

### The Gordian Knot  
and Other Short Stories

Copyright ©2017 K. Winters

Published by Buckhorn Publishing at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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

A Special Thank You

To the students of the Fiction Studio class at the Muse.org and Michael Khandewal for their support in making these stories...interesting.

Table of Contents

About This Anthology

The Gordian Knot

The Photo Shoot

Catching Falling Girls

A Second Chance

Connect with the Author

About this Anthology

Here are four stories, a collection of work that I have created over the years, and I finally found a way to get them to you, the reader.

---

_The Gordian Knot_. Blake Dalton faced a conundrum. "There are some things you just have to trust," Blake whispered to Naomi Tanner as they stood silently waiting for a killer on a snowy night in Washington, DC.

_The Gordian Knot_ , is a mystery filled with political intrigue, an attempted assassination, and subtle twists that leave the reader wondering who everybody really is?

_The Photo Shoot_ , a romantic story about meeting "Mr. Right" and leaving "Mr. Wrong". Karin West signed her name on the line her lawyer indicated. The signature made it official. Ten years dissolved with a single signature. Her Ex-husband, as it turned out, made a lousy husband. It took her ten years to realize that. Then she met Mark, a freelance photographer, with his two beautiful daughters, and it changed her life.

_Catching Falling Girls_. "Kevin was always good at catching falling girls", his brother claimed one day. He just wasn't able to talk to them. But Claire was determined to crack his shell when she realized he was the childhood crush she fell in love with ten years ago. _Catching Falling Girls_ is a delightful romantic short that will leave you smiling.

_A Second Chance_. The water looked cold as Alex stood on a footbridge thirty feet above the rushing river, cold and grey, the lure of its icy depths inviting. More than once he'd considered stepping off the railing to the momentary embrace of numbing cold oblivion. Not today. Too many people about; he didn't want to traumatize anyone. Nobody should add more misery to the world. A Second Chance a story about love and trust destroyed then rediscovered.

# The Gordian Knot

=ONE=

Blake Dalton opened his eyes and the room, dark and masculine, came into focus; the aroma of leather and pipe tobacco filled the air. Across the room, heavy drapes were drawn across tall windows. Moonlight peeked through a gap and fell across the couch to settle in delicate pools on a table only to run over the edge and puddle like liquid silver onto a plush oriental carpet.

He moved his head slightly; his body ached from a sudden fall earlier. Remnants of the vision lingered in his mind. It was vivid in detail, frightening, blood splattered like ice into hot oil. He'd never felt something so violent, so visceral before; it shook him to his core.

He rubbed his eyes; the dull ache of his headache was dissipating. Suddenly, he sensed someone near.

Above him, a woman's face appeared. Her features were soft, feminine and attractive; soft auburn curls framed her face. Her expression was clouded; worry lines were etched across a furrowed brow. Blake began to rise and her hand gently pushed him back against the comfort of the couch. He offered little resistance as his dizziness lingered. Covering his face with his hands, he attempted to rub away the dull ache lodged somewhere above the bridge of his nose, while muffled laughter drifted through oak paneled walls from the room beyond. A party, to which he was indirectly invited, continued. He sighed and closed his eyes, then darkness. Was she a dream?

He opened his eyes again; the woman's face still hovered nearby.

Blake moved his hand to rub the tension building in his neck. "Where am I?"

"The study, from the looks of it," she answered softly. "Are you okay?"

Rubbing his forehead he mumbled. "I'm still a little groggy but things are getting clearer." He dropped his hand and turned toward her. "Who are you?"

"Naomi Tanner, a friend of the hosts, Allison and Drew." She sat back and retrieved a cellphone from her purse. "Should I call an ambulance?"

A wallet fell out of her purse and popped open as it hit the floor. The bi-fold held a photo ID and an official symbol that looked familiar. She reached down quickly and retrieved the wallet, shoving it back into her purse. The glimpse of the ID, and her desire to hide it, bothered him. What was she trying to hide? Was she a cop or private security?

"No," he said slowly shifting his body to prop himself up on one elbow, "I'm okay. Sensory overload I guess, too much alcohol and not enough to eat." The truth was too bizarre to explain to a stranger, especially a cop.

Turning away, she set her purse on the desk behind her. It was one of those small black beaded clutch purses, more for style than practicality. The satin gown she wore rustled as she moved; the emerald color complimented her hazel eyes.

He leaned against the back of the couch. "I'll just rest here for a minute and then I'll be okay, thanks."

She stood. "Would you like some water?"

He offered a weak smile. "Yes, thank you, that would be nice."

"I'll be right back." As she reached the edge of the carpet her heels clicked softly on the hardwood floor. "I'll let them know you're all right, too." She closed the door gently behind her.

He carefully surveyed the room, hmm...Allison and Drew Watson. It's amazing what daddy's money can buy for the junior senator from Wisconsin. Like this cozy little row house just off DuPont Circle, replete with an oak-paneled study and lined with dozens of legal reference journals, all neatly leather bound. The books were probably meant more to impress than be functional, at least for the current tenants.

Beyond the ornately carved oak door was an apartment tastefully appointed with elegant furniture and décor. It was currently filled with people intent on celebrating the holiday season with vigor.

He held his head in his hands. The throbbing persisted, perhaps from the fall he took when he blacked out, or from the visions that bombarded his senses the moment before.

Naomi returned with a glass of ice water. "Sorry that took so long. I had to find Allison and let her know that you're all right; she looked worried." She slipped a napkin under the glass and set it on a table nearby. Her face still showing signs of concern, she sat down across from him. "I couldn't find Drew anywhere. Funny thing is, it's supposed to be his party." She offered that last remark with a subtle smirk.

He picked up the glass and sipped the ice water. "Thanks."

Her eyes shimmered with curiosity. "You're welcome." She paused as if measuring her next question carefully. She leaned forward slightly, surveying his face. "So what happened? You don't look like the kind of guy who faints for no reason."

He set the glass down slowly. She was closer now, and her fragrance was intoxicating. The emerald pendant that draped around her neck drew attention to her curves. He suddenly felt awkward. Who was she? Was she working? She said she was a friend of the hosts but there was something about her manner that made him hesitate. Was it her wallet that made him feel cautious? "I'm not sure what to say. You're right. I don't faint. I guess that was a first for me."

Her expression appeared guarded but intense. "Then what was it? Something you ate?"

He paused again. Maybe she was a hired gun? The way her dress hugged her curves offered little room for a weapon. But, he mused; security comes in all flavors these days.

"I'm not sure I can say, it's hard to explain. In either regard, it wasn't food or drink," he replied cautiously. He took another sip of the ice water then replaced it carefully onto the table.

A burst of laughter from the adjoining room distracted her for a moment. She turned to the door then back to him, her head tilted slightly. "Who are you?"

"Blake Dalton." He offered his hand, which she took. "I'm not on the 'A' list if that's a concern, I'm a friend of a friend so to speak. I was invited by some acquaintances at work, sort of a 'plus one'. I'm not even sure if they've arrived yet."

She nodded, as if considering his comment. "Where do you work?"

He offered her a subtle grimace anticipating her response. "The Library of Congress. I deal with records mostly."

She sat back with a smug smile, as if deciding to dismiss him. "Oh, so you're one of the moles?"

"I've heard the term before," he replied offering a steely smile to her typical response. "Not very flattering is it?"

"No, I suppose it's not. Sorry." Her eyes narrowed. "You don't look like someone --."

"Who spends his life buried in minutiae?" He folded his arms. "Perhaps. Sometimes I have to do background research."

She began to fidget with her emerald necklace. Nice hands, well manicured, and no ring. She moved the pendant back and forth, casually glancing at him.

He picked up the glass of ice water and took a sip. "I spend my time looking for conflicts, little legalities, that might cause complications later," he said, meeting her gaze. "That brings me into the catacombs, but I do see the light of day from time to time." On the plus side, she was attractive; on the minus side she was nosy. Just like a cop, it figured.

She turned away looking a bit annoyed. "You're a lawyer?"

"Yup. Just not a litigator." He paused sitting the ice water down. Courtroom shenanigans by shady lawyers seemed to get under his skin, he preferred research anyway.

She seemed to hide her beauty behind amber locks pulled into a tight bun and mousy, oversized glasses that shielded her beautiful eyes. A few tendrils escaped capture and framed high cheekbones and arched eyebrows. He wondered how she managed to keep this side of her life from interfering with her work. She seemed out of place at an upscale Washington party filled with politicos. Beneath the unassuming exterior, she was slender and walked with a natural grace. He liked the way she moved when she got him the ice water, as if beneath the modest feminine shell was someone much stronger than she appeared.

His attention was interrupted by a burst of laughter from the next room.

After glancing at the door she turned back to him. "So, why can't you tell me why you fainted?" She tilted her head slightly with a thin smile as if trying to soften the directness of her question. "Is it medical?"

"Not exactly." What was it about her? Why did he hesitate? Was she trying to pry or was it just idle curiosity? Did he think he could trust her? Why? He turned and met her stare directly. "Are you a cop? I saw your ID, or at least what looked like an ID fall on the floor."

"Treasury Department," she replied flatly, shifting slightly in her seat.

He took a breath and let it out with a sigh. "So, Secret Service. Are you wired?"

"No, I'm not an agent." She shrugged, her face flushed slightly. "Just a friend trying to help a friend with her party. Allison and I were roommates in college."

"If you're not an agent, what are you?"

She avoided his eyes and turned her head to scan the room. "I work in the office, I do clerical work, okay?" She returned her gaze to him, like a challenge.

He felt her eyes bore into him. Why did it matter what he thought of her job? "Hmm, so do I, sort of."

She nodded and sat quietly waiting, as if expecting him to explain why he fainted.

Why should he tell her what he saw? It's not like she can do anything or stop what might happen. Hell, he didn't even know who the killer was let alone the victim, or that anyone was going to be murdered. What good would it do if he told her? She'd just think he was some sort of crackpot better suited for the nut house.

The room was silent except for the ticking sound of the mantle clock. The party going on next door apparently had reached a lull.

He shifted uncomfortably. He might as well tell her, one more witness to his lunacy, and it didn't matter whether she believed him or not. "Oh, what the hell. It's not like people haven't looked at me like I was some sort of freak before," he muttered.

She scowled at the implication.

He hesitated a moment longer then set his jaw as he turned to face her stare. "I get impressions, okay? Expressions of emotion, which sometimes become visions," he muttered, regretting it the moment the words fell out of his mouth. "I have this ability to sense someone's desires, like snapshots of how they feel," he added as if digging the hole deeper.

She moved her hand in front of her mouth to hide a smirk. "So you're some sort of psychic? Like a fortune teller?" She formed mocking air quotes around the words 'fortune teller'; her attempt to look serious was betrayed by her gestures and the mirth in her eyes.

He shook his head at the classic cop reaction. "No, nothing like that. I'm not a sideshow. I can't tell what you're thinking, Miss Tanner, but I might be able to see how you feel about it if the emotions you connected to the thought are strong enough."

Her expression shifted and her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, see?"

Was she really curious or just play-acting? He paused a moment longer. "I see images that are connected to strong emotions, like snapshots, glimpses of a moment. Sometimes they're blurry and out of focus, rarely are they crystal clear. They don't happen all the time, usually when they do it's rather commonplace. You know, the mundane things that revolve around work or family, often stress related. Sometimes desires to achieve something at someone else's expense, or...sometimes they're sexual. I just ignore them, they're mostly flights of fancy or desires unfulfilled."

She reached forward and touched his hand. "But not this time?"

"No, not this time," he repeated shaking his head. "This time they were crystal clear." He turned away and folded his arms tightly across his chest. Why did he bother? It's not like she or anyone else would believe him. It's too scary to think that someone like him could peek inside and see what others believed were private. He couldn't blame her for being skeptical.

She leaned back in her seat and paused, as if working through the implications of what he had just admitted. Then she shifted forward again and softened her voice. "So...what happened?"

"A murder, or at least it looked that way. It's either happened or it's about to happen, I'm not sure. The emotions were frightening; I could see everything in remarkable detail. The moment the knife struck, I blacked out." He wiped his face with a handkerchief.

Her eyes sparkled with curiosity. The mirth faded to become serious as she moved to sit next to him. "Look I'm not going to say anything to anybody, they probably wouldn't believe me if I did. But if what you say is true, or even partly true, and we can prevent something bad from happening, then I'm all ears – regardless of how strange it might sound."

He leaned back against the couch and covered his eyes, rubbing his forehead.

"Could you see who did it?"

Blake shook his head. "No, it was like I was looking from the inside out. I could feel his emotions, but I couldn't see his face."

"You said, 'his face' - was it a man?"

He nodded. "I think so, I saw his arm, his hand, and the knife, just not his face. The images were striking, and violent. It was very disturbing."

She paused a moment, as if considering the validity of this crazy story. "What about the victim? Could you see who it was?"

He shook his head. "No, just flashes of her dress. It was red and strapless. I saw her chest and the knife striking. Then blackness."

"So it was a woman," she murmured softly, as if thinking out loud. The smirk was gone, although her tone of skepticism lingered.

He buried his head in his hands. She probably thought he was nuts. He would too if he didn't know better. This was beginning to really unnerve him. Could he trust her? She might turn him into the police. Even if the murder didn't happen yet, he would be the prime suspect if and when it did. Why would they believe that it was just a vision? Things like that don't happen to normal people. He had to get out of there before things got more complicated.

He shrugged and offered her a half smile. "Look, it was probably just a bad dream. Nothing really happened. Maybe my brain might have flashed on one of the stupid cop shows I saw while flipping through channels last night. I don't have much stomach for things like that." He stood up. "I should probably go. Thanks for helping, and thanks for the ice water."

Naomi stood up and grabbed his arm. "Mr. Dalton, wait." She paused a moment, still holding on to him. "Please?"

He turned to her.

"How do you get these impressions? What triggers them? Do you have to touch someone like in that movie _Dead Zone_?"

Her expression was serious and intense; gone was any sense of mockery, although she still seemed skeptical. Maybe she did believe him. That would be a first. Most people scoffed and dismissed his impressions, then again, she wasn't 'most people,' she was a cop. Even if she only worked as a clerk in that world...things tended to rub off.

He shook his head. "Not really. It's not all that consistent. Rarely does it happen when I touch someone. Usually I have to touch something they've held, something personal or private, then I might see something, as long as the emotion was strong enough to linger."

She let go of his arm and sat on the couch. "Like a napkin or a plate?"

He nodded. He felt like he was falling into a hole. He wanted to leave, to forget the whole thing like some sort of bad dream, but he knew he couldn't. There was something about her that was intriguing, beyond the obvious, something captivating.

He nodded. "Yeah, it could be anything. I don't remember clearly what triggered it. I might have touched a spoon or a napkin or something else." He sat down next to her on the couch. "I just can't remember."

Laugher from then next room distracted them for a moment.

He met her gaze. Her eyes shimmered in the soft light of the study. He reached over and picked up the ice water glass again. The vision of a man, perhaps her partner, filled his mind. His arm was broken and bandaged, but it was healing. "That guy, the one with the red hair, he'll be all right," he said, nodding with reassurance, "it was just a minor accident and not your fault, nothing to be worried about."

She turned to him stunned. "How?"

"Is he an agent?"

She hesitated. "Someone from the office." She nodded briefly. "I guess I worry too much."

Blake nodded. "Well, it seems like he can be reckless at times."

She shrugged her shoulders. She was hiding something, but ultimately it didn't matter.

She paused a moment as if deciding something, then she turned and touched his shoulder. "Are you willing to try something? It may not work but maybe..." She gently pushed his shoulders, encouraging him to lie down.

He nodded and moved across the couch. He closed his eyes and folded his hands across his chest.

"Just relax, an agitated mind tends to forget details." She spoke softly, almost whispering. "Try to remember the room. Where are you?"

Taking another big breath, he let it out slowly. "I'm not sure. It's not here, someplace else, maybe another floor. The carpet in the room is rich and full of color. It's ornate, maybe oriental, but blue instead of red. I'm surprised at how clear everything is, the image is remarkably detailed."

"Good. Can you see anything else in the room?"

"A bed, yes, part of a bed, a large bed. The sheets are pulled down and they look rumpled. There's a bench at the foot of the bed. She's sitting on it but her face is obscured. The focus is on her breasts."

"Just her breasts? Nothing else?"

"No, there's a necklace...it looks expensive, diamonds maybe."

She took a pen and a small piece of paper from her purse. "Could it be robbery?"

His eyes were firmly closed. "I think it's something...darker. I can sense greed but it's not about the necklace. It's something bigger. I think the necklace might be a distraction, if it's missing it might throw people off, but it's not the focus of the emotion." He began to toss his head back and forth.

She reached over to touch his hands as if to calm him. "Just relax." He stopped tossing his head and calmed down. "Okay. Can you see the dress? What is she wearing? You said it was red, is it shimmery or soft?"

"Only parts of it...just the upper part is soft and supple. It covers her breasts, but only partly. She seems young."

"Why do you say that?" She leaned forward.

"No wrinkles...her pale skin is smooth and youthful looking. She can't be over 30."

"That's good." Naomi continued to scribble notes on the back of a receipt she found in her purse. "Anything else? What's he wearing?"

Blake took another big breath and let it out slowly. "Um...I'm not sure, a suit maybe? Yes, a suit, well at least a suit jacket. It's dark, black I think. Maybe some tiny pattern lines like a pinstripe but very subtle. And he's wearing a watch, its expensive, gold with a flexible band."

"Can you see the time?"

"Twelve oh five. I get the impression that it's today as well, I mean tonight."

'Five minutes after midnight." She glanced at her watch. "It's nine o'clock now. That gives us three hours. That's not much time to stop a murder."

He sat up and rubbed his forehead. "One other thing, he wore a small gold ring."

She scribbled another note. "Did it have a stone or any inscription?"

He nodded. "It did, a symbol was engraved into the top." He pulled her makeshift notepaper over and patted his pockets for a pen. She handed him her pen. He slowly drew the symbol that he saw. "There was a circle that encompassed an equilateral triangle that enclosed a square that held another circle. It looked like this." He turned to Naomi when he finished and kneaded his brow. "What do you think it means?"

She nodded her head slowly. "Alchemy. It's an ancient symbol."

"How did you know that?"

Her eyes pierced his with a stone cold intensity. "My...ah, department has been researching it for months." She was distracted by laughter from the door that led to the outer rooms. "It's one of the reasons why I'm here."

Leaning back he offered a little smirk. "So, not just to hand out hor'dourves?"

Her face flushed.

He turned the image around to look at it from another angle. "Alchemy? That's a bit medieval isn't it?"

"Yes, and now it's used to represent something else," she sighed.

"What?"

She hesitated.

"Great, just what this country needs, more cloak and dagger stuff," he muttered. "Are we stuck in some sort of Dashiell Hammett novel?"

"No," Naomi shook her head. "But it is political, I can tell you that."

He shook his head. "Yeah, well, no surprise there. What isn't in DC?"

"Alchemy was a medieval form of chemistry," she added, as if she was rattling off a report. "It was based on the supposed transformation of matter, the change of baser metals into gold."

"So, we have a group of nut-jobs trying to change lead into gold?"

"No, remember, it's political, and the key word here is transformation. That's all I can say. "

Blake nodded solemnly. "So, what now?"

She shrugged her shoulders.

"You still don't believe me do you?"

She glanced at his drawing. "I'm skeptical, but I'm willing to examine both sides. Let's see what happens." Another burst of laughter from beyond the door broke the silence. "Perhaps we should rejoin the party. Who knows, you might get another clue." She winked as her eyes gleamed with mirth. "Try not to fall down this time."

He nodded then stood up and moved towards the party beyond the door. "Humph."

=TWO=

Inside the second story window of a small hotel, a slender, gloved hand drew a long narrow black case out of a duffle bag and laid it gently on the dresser by the window. Two clasps were flipped open to reveal a long black barrel, a pistol-grip mechanism, a slender scope, and a blunt shaped tube made specifically to silence weapons like the one fitted into the velvet lined compartments.

The curtain covering the window was drawn back to reveal a Victorian row house across the street below. It was ablaze with lights as dozens of people walked in and out of the front door while several men, dressed like servants, greeted them cordially.

To the untrained eye, it appeared to be a well-heeled holiday party in a fashionably upscale neighborhood, one of many such holiday parties in the nation's capital.

To Roxanne Marshall, the young woman who stood gazing through the riflescope from a hotel window across the street, the two barrel-chested men dressed as valets, were obviously bodyguards, trained in weapons and martial arts. They were a minor inconvenience if all went as planned.

Bodyguards and escape routes are easily planned. What played out in Roxanne's mind were the infinite variables of hitting her intended target, the randomness of movement, the shifting of impulsive activity around a table filled with sweets. That would present a problem. But, she had been well compensated for any risks she might encounter, and she'd met challenges like this before. It was a job; it paid the bills, handsomely. Her handler, Bruno, dropped a note with a phone number into her post box. The number was most likely a burner, something impossible to trace.

Now she had to decide whether she wanted to take the job. This was the first time she intimately knew her target. Would that have an impact? She had no idea who had contacted her handler, she had the 'who, when, and where'. Nothing else.

Why did it have to be someone she knew? How would she feel standing there, in the same room, after what she did?

"Get out of your head, girl, it's just a job," she muttered softly as she assembled the single-shot weapon silently. The task had been performed blindfolded countless times before.

A moment later, the weapon rested on two small metal legs that extended from the muzzle of the rifle and were placed on a small table in front of the window. She looked through the scope into a room filled with people moving about a large table filled with a variety of holiday treats.

It wasn't going to be an easy shot; patience and perseverance were necessary. There would only be one chance before her hotel room would be flooded with security, a single shot and then her escape through a carefully planned route. If all went as planned, after a few moments, she'd be standing next to the dying woman she just shot.

Looking through the scope, she laid her finger flat against the trigger guard. Patience.

=THREE=

Blake's hand moved randomly across the table, sensing, but not touching the assortment of dishes filled with holiday treats. Nothing.

Holding a glass of wine as if trying to decide which treat to select and thus distract the casual observer, he felt disappointed. More determined, he stepped back to move his hand across the side table where dirty dishes and napkins were piled. Nothing, not even a faint vibration, yet he knew the images that flooded his mind came from something he passed over moments before he fainted.

Naomi crossed the room impatiently and stood next to him. "Well, anything? Or was it just a case of bad television choices?"

He shook his head choosing to ignore the reference. "The food table is clean. My guess is whatever triggered my response has been placed on the tray over there." He pointed to a service tray loaded with dirty dishes. "And it has probably been cleared several times by now."

Naomi nodded to a server passing by as she spoke. "What now, the kitchen?" The staff person gathered up the tray filled with dirty dishes next to Blake.

His eyes followed the server as she maneuvered through the room towards the kitchen. "Do you know her?"

Naomi popped a canapé in her mouth. "Only briefly," she mumbled, finishing the canapé. "Allison introduced me to the wait staff before the guests arrived."

"Why don't you follow her and find out where the dishes are stored. I'm going to take another pass around the main table," Blake murmured. "I might have missed something."

Naomi shrugged and turned to follow the member of the kitchen staff. "More like chasing more geese if you ask me," she muttered.

As Naomi moved quickly to catch up with the staff person, the centerpiece of ice and glass on the table exploded and someone screamed. The room was thrown into chaos as guests near the dinning room table rushed for cover.

Blake turned to a woman kneeling on the floor, her shoulder covered in blood. He rushed to her, knelt, and placed his hand over her upper shoulder as blood seeped around his fingers. Several guests pulled out a cellphones and dialed. From their conversations they must have dialed 911.

Slowly, when nothing else happened, everyone began to recover. How did she get cut? Was it shrapnel from the shattered centerpiece? The bleeding slowed somewhat. There doesn't seem to be any shards of glass near the woman on the floor. Maybe the cut was caused by something else.

Across the room, waiters peaked out of the kitchen as other guests pushed through the crowd of onlookers. Naomi rushed back to stand in the middle of the room.

"Everyone, please move across the hallway to the front parlor while we inspect the damages," she barked like a drill sergeant, the authority and tone in her voice was so very different than what Blake had experienced with her in the study. "There's no need to rush," she continued. "If you need to leave, security will escort you to your car after they've had time to speak everyone."

The guests were ushered across the hallway and into the large living room by some of the staff as Naomi knelt down next to her friend in Blake's arms. "Allison, are you okay?"

"No, dammit, it hurts like hell," she hissed. "What happened? Did I get cut by flying glass from that centerpiece?" The shattered remains of which littered the dessert table but not near her. "That damn caterer assured me the sculpture would be stunning, not explosive."

Naomi shook her head, stood up, and, following a line from Allison's shoulder when she stood at the table; she walked towards a window across the room. "No. It must have been a bullet. Look," she said pointing to a windowpane laced with spider web cracks. "The same one that came through here." Her finger touched the ragged hole that penetrated the glass near the center of the pane.

Blake grabbed a cloth napkin and wrapped Allison's arm. He put pressure on Allison's wound as he turned to Naomi. "Can you see anything?"

"No, but I didn't expect to anyway. There does seem to be a lot of commotion in the building across the street," she said, turning with a grimace. "Let's move her into the study, it's more comfortable in there."

"And out of sight," he murmured as he bound her wound tighter with a second piece of cloth. He gestured to a guest to open the door to the study and helped Naomi guide Allison to the couch, then he turned to usher the curious out of the room. He closed the study doors and stood in the dining room waiting for the paramedics to arrive.

A moment later, Drew Watson rushed in followed by two paramedics carrying medical cases. He looked ashen as he scanned the room. "Allison? Where's my wife?"

"She's in the study, sir," Blake shouted over the murmur of conversation as the guests parted for Drew and the paramedic team.

Drew stood in the center of the room and glanced about. "What happened? Has she been shot?"

Blake blinked a moment then recovered to open the study door. "No, she's okay. It appears that her arm has been cut, perhaps from the glass centerpiece when it shattered," he said, gesturing towards the mess on the dinning room table. He decided not to mention the bullet hole in the window that Naomi pointed out.

Drew glanced back at the table, nodded, and then he followed the paramedics into the room.

Blake wondered how Drew, who wasn't in the room at the time, knew that his wife had been shot. Where was he, in the hallway, waiting? He seemed to have arrived very quickly after the shot.

Drew rushed past the paramedics and sat by Allison on the couch. "My God Allie, what happened?"

"I really don't know for sure. My arm was cut by something; Naomi thinks it was a bullet. All I know is that it hurts and there is blood all over my new gown. When they finish I'm going to my bedroom to lie down."

"Of course, darling. Should I ask the guests to leave?"

"No. You've worked so hard to make this all happen we shouldn't let something like this spoil it."

"Of course, rest and then, if you feel better, change and come back for the midnight celebration."

"I wouldn't miss it. You should get back to the party, they need a host."

"Drew, I asked your guests to step into the living room and wait," Naomi said. "You should join them there. I'll supervise the clean up in the dining room."

"Thank you Naomi, I'm sure I'll need to calm some ruffled feathers. Excuse me." He walked to the study door and turned. "Don't mention the bullet thing to anyone else, okay? I don't want to fuel any speculation."

"Of course," she said, glancing sideways to Blake.

Allison waited patiently until her wound was dressed then she stood up and marched out of the study, another friend escorted her up the stairs.

The paramedics packed up and left shortly afterwards.

Naomi closed the study door after they left and turned to Blake. "That was odd."

He turned to her quickly. "What?"

"The way Drew reacted to his wife being shot."

"Oh good," he nodded. "I'm glad I'm not the only one. Earlier Drew asked if Allison had been shot when he saw the blood on the floor but he wasn't in the room when it happened."

"So, you didn't see this happening too?"

"How could I? It came from outside. I'm not a fortune teller, Naomi," he growled.

Naomi grimaced then bent down to retrieve the bloody napkin from the couch. "Why don't you go to the kitchen? The wait staff told me that the dirty dishes are stacked near the exit. You can continue you're wild goose chase there while I talk to the head of security." She walked to the door, folding the bloody napkin.

Blake stood silent for a moment. "I don't suppose you could dispense with the snarky remarks. You may not believe me but I know what I saw."

"Fine. Send a few of the wait staff out to help me clean up. I'll ask them if they're missing a knife."

"Fine," he turned and slammed the kitchen door open. "Stupid cop," he muttered as the door swung shut.

=FOUR=

"Whose in charge here?" A barrel chested man, dressed in a dark, ill-fitted suit, appeared at the entrance to the hallway. Two other men dressed in dark suits followed him.

"I am," Naomi said walking into the dinning room.

"Who are you?"

Naomi flashed her ID wallet at the gruff man blocking any escape to the hallway. "Naomi Tanner, Treasury Department. Who are you?"

The gruff man flashed his ID. "Detective Bob Ashby, Washington PD."

"She's an administrative assistant to Director Blockman," murmured one of the suits behind Ashby.

"I need to speak to someone in authority Ms. Tanner, not a secretary."

Ignoring the slight, Naomi gestured to the living room beyond. "I've asked the guests that were in the dining room when the incident occurred to wait next door until they could be interviewed." She narrowed her eyes and offered him a thin smile. "Perhaps you could look there for someone in authority." She turned towards the mess at the table.

"Don't touch anything until forensics clears the space, Tanner," Ashby barked.

Naomi started to respond but at that moment a woman swung open the door that led to the kitchen. She was dressed in a strapless red gown and matching heels. Her blonde locks framed a youthful face and her lips offered the hint of a smirk. She paused a moment and nodded to Naomi. Then she walked calmly into the hallway passing Detective Ashby and the two men behind him, knowing that every male eye in the room was on her body and the way it moved in that dress.

Ashby cleared his throat, spinning around to confront the woman. "Where do you think you're going young lady?"

The woman in red paused and glanced back over her shoulder. "In the living room with the rest of the guests, unless you have a problem with that...officer." She turned back and strode off towards the living room leaving a speechless detective, his mouth opening and closing silently, in her wake.

Detective Ashby spun back around and glared at Naomi. "The rest of you don't leave this room unless you've cleared it with me first." He spun back and strode off towards the living room in a huff.

=FIVE=

Roxanne mingled quietly among the guests in the living room as she listened to a variety of complaints about ill treatment and inconvenience. A crooked smile crossed her face. How would they have reacted if she hadn't missed?

Across the room, a large landscape by the 19th century British artist Turner dominated the wall. Beneath it, several women sat looking bored and dejected on an overstuffed sofa. Besides them a Henri Adrien Trodoux bronze of a dog capturing a rat sat next to a statue of a draped nude on an early 20th century parquetry side table. Several books were arranged next to the sculptures like a display. It was all very staged and it made her sigh as staff members brought in additional chairs to accommodate the guests.

To her left, several guests sat at a baby grand piano trying to stumble through a version of 'Twinkle-Twinkle Little Star'. And beyond them a knot of guests surrounded a blustering police detective in a dark suit trying desperately to write in his notepad.

If it wasn't happening in reality, she imagined that she'd just stepped onto a movie set. She walked closer to the police detective interviewing guests.

"What's the hold up, officer?" A portly woman draped in jewels, huffed in an indignant tone. "My husband is the senior senator from Pennsylvania, I'll have you know. I'm not accustomed to this sort of treatment."

"Yes, officer," a man with an obnoxious holiday tie and a cardigan sweater attempted to divert the officer's attention. "Why are we held in here? I have other parties I'm supposed to attend this evening. Can't this be hurried up?"

"I agree," muttered another guest stuffing her face with a truffle, "this is ridiculous."

"Please, ladies and gentlemen, one at a time." The harried officer scribbled in his notepad and sighed.

A sergeant in the ill-fitted uniform stepped into the room and shouted over the din. "Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for any inconvenience this may cause but we need your contact information in the event that we have further questions. So patience please, we have to follow procedures."

Roxanne shook her head subtly with a smirk. Procedures, humph, stalling until they decide what to do is more like it. Her cellphone vibrated. She pulled it out of her clutch purse, swiped the face and entered a code. A message from Bruno appeared. It read: You failed. There are consequences.

She stuffed the cellphone back into her purse. Her 'hobby' didn't allow for mistakes, this one was going to cost her. The room continued to fill with guests but Bruno wasn't one of them; at least not yet. She turned to the hallway door and Drew was fast approaching.

"We need to talk," he nodded his head in the direction of the stairs. Drew nodded to the police sergeant standing at the hallway entrance.

"Sort of hard with all of this." She gestured towards the uniformed police in the hallway.

Drew whispered. "You heard what happened?"

"No, what?" She smiled seductively and moved to fuss with the lapels of his suit jacket.

"Alison was shot." Drew took her hands and pulled them off his jacket. "Nobody knows about it yet, except for one of her friends, someone named Naomi."

Roxanne walked over and sat on a chair. "What are you going to do?"

"Do? What can I do?" He continued to pace in front of her. "The police are everywhere, guests are leaving, and the party's in shambles."

She stood up and blocked his way. "Calm down, Drew. No one suspects anything. If the chaos continues at least they will have something new to talk about in their boring little lives." She slipped her hands around his neck and smiled. "So don't worry, everything's fine."

He sighed. "I suppose." He pulled her arms from around his neck and shrugged. "I can't, not here." He leaned to her ear and whispered. "Upstairs, five minutes?"

Roxanne sighed, slipping back to her seat. "I suppose."

He stepped closer and leaned down. "I'm sorry dear," he said, caressing her face. "All this added security, the mess in the dinning room, I'm totally distracted."

A moment later a large man in a tailored black suit entered the living room from the front foyer.

"Bruno," she muttered.

=SIX=

After Ashby left, Naomi turned to the mess on the table when Blake peeked around the corner of a hallway that led off to the kitchen. He motioned for her to come near.

No one connected to Ashby was in sight so she walked quickly over to him. "What?"

"I found it, look." He opened a cloth napkin and revealed a silver-plated butter knife.

"What, that?" Naomi rolled her eyes. "That hardly looks like a murder weapon."

He glanced over her shoulder towards the foyer. "I didn't say it was, but it's what triggered the images, I can still feel the vibrations."

Naomi took another cloth napkin and picked up the knife. She dropped it back onto the cloth in his hand. "I don't feel a thing."

"Never mind that, let's see if we can find the room that I saw."

She glanced across the room towards the foyer. "How? There are cops everywhere."

Blake pointed down the narrow hallway. "Service stairs, come on."

She followed as he led the way up the back stairs to the private bedrooms on the third floor.

He peered around the entrance to the hallway. No one was in sight. "This way," he motioned as they moved quickly across the corridor and into the first room. He flipped a switch and a lamp on a side table near the bed dimly illuminated the room. The oak floor was covered with small, solid color, area carpets and the bed, adorned with several lace-covered pillows, looked untouched. Pastoral pictures of the New England countryside adorned the walls.

An impatient Naomi looked past him into the room. "Well?"

"Not here," he said, ignoring her tone. "Let's check the next room." He crossed the hallway and opened another door. He flipped on a switch and muttered. "Nope, not here either."

"How many more do you have to check before you realize you're chasing wild geese?"

Blake turned around, shaking his head. He heard it all before. "Why don't you go back down stairs and hold the nice policemen's hat while he questions of all the guests who had nothing to do with any of this?" He stormed off down the corridor towards a door at the end. "Perhaps it'll be a better use of your valuable time," he muttered over his shoulder.

Naomi stood in the center of the hallway defiantly; her hands were firmly placed on her hips. She opened her mouth to respond as Blake flipped on the light to the next bedroom.

"Found it," he whispered, "Come here."

Naomi walked quickly down the corridor to stand behind him. She remembered his description; the room was a match. The oak floor was covered by another oriental carpet, but this time it had a blue field, just as he described. The walls were covered in a dark ruby patterned wallpaper and several abstract pictures akin to the work of Mondrian hung opposite two windows covered over with heavy drapes made of a moray-patterned silk.

Across from the door, a large bed with rumpled covers dominated the room and adjacent to that were two side tables and lamps with French laced shades. The room had the markings of a feminine hand.

"It's just like I saw it," he whispered, "down to how the sheets were rumpled on the bed."

"Are you sure?"

Blake nodded. "Positive."

Suddenly, they heard voices of someone coming up the stairs. Blake flipped off the light switch and they ran down the corridor to the back staircase. As they reached it, Drew Watson and the same young woman dressed in red who came out of the kitchen earlier, stepped into the hallway from the main staircase. They turned to enter the room that Blake thought was the one he saw in his nightmare vision.

Hmm...Tanya Sokolov. "Interesting," he murmured.

"That's Drew with a woman who calls herself Roxanne." She turned and leaned back against the hallway wall. "So, now we have a man and a woman dressed in red in the room you saw in your dream," Naomi hissed, "What's next, do we jump in and surprise them flagrante delicto?"

"And accuse them of what? Meeting privately in a bedroom?" He shook his head. "We have to wait. His watch said twelve oh five, we'll surprise them just before that."

"By doing what, knocking on the door and asking him to please not stab her? Right, that'll do just fine." Naomi rolled her eyes. "Besides, I saw three other women in the dining room tonight all wearing a different color of red. Not to mention that woman whom I hadn't seen before," Naomi muttered with a toss of her head towards the bedroom, "also dressed in a red gown."

Naomi scowled. "By the way, as she waltzed out of the kitchen and past the cops, you'd think it was her party and the rest of us were on the wait staff." She folded her arms across her chest. "Plus, we don't even know if this is the one he stabs or if he is even the murderer. It could be someone else who uses the room later. Too many ifs."

Blake slumped his shoulders. She was right, too many ifs. This wasn't going to be easy, even if what he saw was true.

"You can stay up here if you want, but personally, I have a mess to clean up in the dining room and I don't have two hours to waste waiting for your fantasy vision to materialize." She turned and began to descend the back stairs.

She took two steps down the stairs then stopped suddenly and turned to Blake. An acrid odor filled her senses. "Why do I smell gun powder?"

Blake turned towards the door at the end of the corridor. "I smell it too. Did you hear anything?"

"No, not a sound." She returned to the end of the staircase and peered around the corner with Blake. "Even a silencer makes a sound."

Blake turned to her with a frown. "How do you know that?"

"I read," she hissed.

The door at the end of the corridor opened and they ducked back around the corner. Down the hallway, Drew stepped out followed by the woman from the kitchen.

The woman leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. "Tomorrow, at my place, I'll serve something provocative for lunch." She moved in front of him to caress his chin. She dropped her hand, turned her back to him, and smiled seductively. Then she descended the staircase towards the floor below.

Drew straightened his tie then he reached into the bedroom and turned off the lights. He closed the door and disappeared down the stairs leaving the hallway quiet once again.

Naomi leaned against the wall at the top of the service stairs. She took a big breath and let it out slowly. "That was weird." She sniffed the air; the acrid smell of gunpowder was gone. "The odor seems to be gone now."

"Yeah." He peeked around the corner. The hallway was empty. He turned back to her. "Do you want some help with the mess in the dining room?"

Naomi sighed and nodded at the top of the service stairs. "I could use some."

She grimaced as she entered the dining room and surveyed the mess on the table. Ashby was right, she couldn't touch a thing until forensics arrived. She might as well inform the kitchen staff.

Blake stopped and leaned against the corner of the service hallway.

"I think some of that woo-woo stuff of yours is rubbing off on me," she said over her shoulder with a grin. Her expression became serious. "Why could I smell gunpowder one moment, and then the next it was gone?"

Blake shrugged his shoulders. "It happens, I've long since stopped trying to find answers."

There was still no sign of the forensic team. She huffed her displeasure at the empty room. "I'm not an agent, you know." She folded her arms tightly. "Officially, I sit behind a desk and answer the phone. I make coffee, take notes at meetings, and handle expense accounts," she added resolutely. "But I'm still part of it, even if I'm not directly involved."

Ashby's voice came bellowing from the foyer. "Sawyer, keep an eye on that dinning room until forensics gets here. I don't want anybody messing with a crime scene."

Naomi set her jaw and turned to stand beside the dinning room table. She'd had it with narrow-minded beat cops pushing her around.

She strode into the foyer. "Ashby!"

He turned around swiftly. "What?"

She marched across the room and stood glaring at him. "I really don't give a damn who you are Detective, you do not treat people that way, especially those who've made your job a damn sight easier!" She strode back across the foyer then spun about and glared at the detective. "In fact, I expect an apology from you on Director Blockman's desk Monday morning. In writing. Is that clear?" She spun around again and almost ran into Blake standing in the archway watching what was happening. Her expression was filled with fury.

"Excuse me," she grumbled then stormed off through the dining room and into the back hallway. She leaned against the wall, took a big breath, and let it out slowly. "Why do I let clowns like Ashby get me all riled up?"

A moment later Blake leaned against the hallway wall next to her.

Naomi fiddled with her necklace. "You know, I face assholes like Ashby every day at work. It's the climate of the times in law enforcement I suppose. Usually, they don't get to me, but this time, with everything else going on..." She shook her head.

He nodded and kept silent.

"It's not like Allison and I are best friends or anything, we were in college together, and we got along. She tended to run in different circles, but we still knew one another. Seeing her lying on the floor, shot, the shattered ice and glass everywhere, and the bullet hole in the window..." She took another big breath. "Then Drew in the bedroom upstairs, the one you described perfectly, with a woman whom I've never seen before, acting like she owned the place. I guess it was just too much. Besides, she wasn't even on the list!"

Blake offered a cockeyed grin. "Do you want a drink?"

Naomi shook her head slightly and chuckled. "Yeah, a stiff one. I think I saw a liquor cabinet in the study." She led the way out of the back hallway.

She filled a couple of glasses with ice and poured an ounce or two out of a decanter of whiskey. She handed a glass to Blake and lifted hers. "Salute." Then she knocked back the whiskey in a single gulp. "I've met attitudes like that before, even a car salesman who told her he'd wait until she could bring her husband along to discuss details. My life seemes to be filled with Neanderthals."

Blake paused and blinked. "You know, you're not like any woman I've ever met before." He turned and leaned against the bar. "You're cool and collected, even in the face of undeserved antagonism. Where are you from?"

"Huh?"

Blake offered a faint smile. "You know, where were you born? How did you make it into the Treasury Department?"

Naomi turned and leaned against the liquor cabinet counter next to him. "Ohio. A small town on the eastern border called Lowelville. It's on the Mahoning River. It wasn't much, just a bend in the road, so to speak."

"How did you end up here?"

"I took courses in criminal justice at the University of Akron and interned at the State Department. One thing led to another and ten years later here I am."

At least that's the official record, Blake thought. Then he turned to Naomi. He set his jaw and paused as if weighing his next thought before he said it. "You're not who you seem to be, are you?

She glanced at him then turned towards the open door that led to the dining room. "What do you mean?"

Blake walked to the door and closed it. "You're not really a secretary to the Director or whatever you want to call it, are you? You're too calm and collected under pressure. You're observant and careful about details, you've handled all the complications of a detailed guest list, arranged the security, and you even knew how to handle an incident situation. You had the whole thing perfectly under control before Ashby even turned up."

Naomi turned and poured another drink. "You're on a fishing expedition, Dalton." She drank the shot in another gulp.

He arched his eyebrows. "Am I? What you said about Alchemy earlier didn't seem to fit but now that I think about it," he took a step closer and whispered. "Who do you work for?"

"Drop it Blake. I mean it." She set her glass down and strode across the room. "There are some things you just don't need to know." She paused as she reached for the door, leaning her forehead against the wood paneling. She took another breath. "Just drop it, okay? Please." She opened the door and walked into the dining room.

A moment later Blake followed her. The forensic team had finally arrived and the area around the table was being cordoned off by a couple of team members. Two of the team members found a bullet lodged in the wall opposite the window and were busy trying to remove it.

He walked up to stand beside Naomi. "I suppose we should just go into the living room and wait until forensics is finished. There doesn't seem to be anything else we can do. Besides, the party is probably over anyway, no sense trying to restore the room."

Naomi nodded and started to move to the foyer as Blake checked his watch, it read eleven-forty. "Back in a bit, it's nearly mid-night," he muttered as he dashed to the service hallway and bound up the back stairs.

"Wait." Naomi turned and nearly stumbled. "Stupid heels," she muttered as she followed him. By the time she reached the stairs he had already disappeared around the corner on the next floor. She lifted her hem and climbed the stairs quickly.

"Blake," she whispered at the top of the stairs but he seemed too intent on making it too the door at the end of the corridor to stop and wait for her.

She peeked around the corner. At the end of the corridor he opened the door carefully and slipped inside, closing it softly behind him.

Naomi rushed down the corridor and opened the bedroom door. "Blake?" She whispered. "Where are you?" She stepped inside and closed the door softly. She paused; a dim light from streetlights outside glowed around the edges of the drapes to her right. The room offered few choices for hiding.

Across the room Blake cracked open the closet door and gestured to her. "Quickly, it's almost time."

She moved to join him as he closed the door behind her. They shifted positions slightly and Naomi pushed an elbow into his ribs. "Sorry," she whispered.

She detected an unmistakable odor of gun oil as she reached around to move her elbow and felt the edge of a weapon in his hand. She turned to whisper something and Blake placed his fingers on her lips. He shook his head slightly and nodded towards the room with a subtle smirk.

A moment later, light from the hallway crept into the room as a hand reached around the door frame and flipped on the bedroom light. Two people walked in and quickly closed the door.

Naomi joined Blake as they peered through the slats in the closet door. She had seen the woman who called herself Roxanne earlier; this was the first she'd seen the man.

His shoulders and back were broad and muscular, like a weight lifter. His hands were huge and his fingers were like sausages. He towered over the woman, leaning down to sneer in her face.

He grabbed Roxanne by the arm and spun her around to land on the bed. "What have I told you about mistakes?"

Roxanne shrugged her shoulders and rubbed her arm. Her back was to Naomi so she couldn't see her expression, but her body language seemed defiant.

The large man leaned forward, inches from her. "We don't make them...do we?" He slipped his hand into a pocket and pulled out a stiletto like blade, flipping it open with the flick of his wrist. He pressed the blade against her neck. "Do we?"

Snap, snap and two small darts flew across the room to lodge in the big man's neck. He slumped on the bed unconscious as Blake stepped from the closet holding a miniature gun.

Roxanne jumped up and started to move towards the door as Blake dashed across the room and grabbed her arm. Then he twisted it around and up the center of her back. "Not so fast, Tanya, I have a few friends who have some questions for you." He pulled out his cellphone and pushed a speed dial number.

Who the hell is Tanya? Naomi squinted through the slats in the closet door; her hand was on the knob. She hesitated as Blake pulled out his cellphone. "Stay there," he said turning towards the closet and then he pressed a key on his cellphone.

"Yeah, it's clear. Come down the back hallway." He snapped his cellphone shut and returned it to his pocket. Blake pivoted the woman around then reached below her waist into the slit of her red wrap dress. She squirmed in a feeble attempt to resist him. He retrieved a small automatic and slipped it into his coat pocket as two men in dark suits entered the room.

"His name is Bruno," Blake muttered, nodding towards the man slumped on the bed and still firmly holding the woman he referred to as Tanya. "He's probably her handler."

Blake turned and looked at the closet door. "It's only eleven fifty-five," he said loudly. "I suspect that more guests will be here shortly. I'll be back to help as quickly as I can."

Then he turned to the two men in suits who looked at each other with a shrug. "Take Bruno down the back stairs. And move quickly, we don't need Ashby poking his nose in where it doesn't belong."

The two men nodded. They lifted Bruno's sagging body into a drunken sailor's pose and moved towards the door.

Blake nudged the woman towards the door. "Be a dear and turn off the lights, Tanya, we don't want to waste electricity."

Her elbow caught the light switch and the room plunged into shadows. They walked into the hallway and closed the door.

The moment it clicked shut Naomi sprinted from the closet to peek down the hallway. She carefully opened the door. Near the end of the corridor, Blake was escorting the woman towards the back staircase. By now both of her hands were bound with an electrical ties. When they turned the corner Blake waved over his head and they disappeared down the stairs.

She closed the door and dashed back to the closet.

A few minutes later and nearly midnight, Blake entered the room and moved quickly to the closet. He crowded in, pushing up against Naomi and wrapping his arm around her waist. His eyes twinkled in the dim light that filtered through the slats in the closet door.

Naomi turned her head to face Blake and whispered. "So, who are you?"

He smiled, leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. "There are some things you just have to trust."

Naomi grinned and shook her head gently then she reached out and took his other hand to place it around her waist. "I suppose that means we may be working together again."

He leaned in a kissed her ear gently as he whispered. "I hope so." Then he covered his lips with his finger as the door to the hallway clicked open.

Light from the hallway flooded the room until a hand reached in and flipped the switch. Drew Watson walked in followed by Allison now dressed in a shimmery red, strapless, evening gown.

It was easy to see a small ring on Drew's finger; exactly as Blake described it.

Blake leaned into to Naomi and whispered. "Time to save the world?"

She nodded, kissed his cheek, and whispered in his ear. "At least our little part of it."

Copyright © 2015/Winters

# The Photo Shoot

THE PARK.

Karin West signed her name on the line her lawyer indicated. That was all it took. The signature made it official. Ten years dissolved with a single signature.

She considered returning to her maiden name but it was such a legal hassle that she decided not to bother. Besides, everyone knew her as Karin West, children's book author not Karin Campbell, the college graduate, which was the last time she had that name.

She took a big breath and let it out slowly as she walked out of her lawyer's office. It felt like those ten years were left behind as she pulled that office door shut. What loss she felt was tempered by distance. Robert, her ex, hadn't been part of her life for years. The whole signing of documents was all so matter of fact, so cold, like the dissolving of a business, certainly not a marriage.

She unlocked her car with her remote then paused. Across the street was a large city park. She rarely took walks, but after that meeting in her lawyer's office she needed a change. From this moment on her life certainly was going to be different, even if Robert hadn't been around the last few years. No more worries about what he was or wasn't doing, no more waiting for him to be late, or wondering why he never called. She sighed.

The park was filled with people out walking their dogs, or standing in conversation, even playing games of catch. Perhaps fresh air and different scenery might be a good place to start. She checked the traffic on the street and crossed into the park.

It was supposed to be an uncontested agreement. But the lawyers picked over every detail like vultures. It ended with months of negotiations and endless hours of bickering over minutiae. Her friends tried to tell her that it wasn't going to be easy. She had hoped that they were wrong...they weren't.

She married later than her friends in college; she was nearly twenty-eight at the time. Now, after ten years, she was single again. What did that mean? How much was that going to change things? Or would it change anything?

At least her writing career and the part-time job at the bookstore kept her mind from being idle. She wasn't too worried about everything else. Her last book was really successful, in spite of the fact that Robert refused to illustrate it. It was just those idle moments when she wasn't working or volunteering that her mind drifted back to what once was and what should have been.

She slipped her coat sleeve away from her wristwatch as she walked across an open area in the park. It was nearly three o'clock. She was supposed to volunteer at the women's shelter at four. There was still time. Maybe the park would help clear her head.

A group of young girls was playing soccer nearby. She paused a moment. They squealed with glee, chasing the ball down the field, jabbing at it with their feet, trying to turn it this way and that. Suddenly, a good pass from one girl to another and the ball flew past the goalie and into the corner of the net. The whole team gathered around, jumping and laughing. It all ended in a big group hug. It made her smile to watch them giggle and laugh.

She didn't have any children. Robert resisted the idea. He always told her that he thought he'd make a lousy father. As it turned out he made a lousy husband too.

Across the practice field a photographer stood snapping shots of the girls. Perhaps he was an eager father ready to capture every moment and save it for future embarrassment. Like her dad did to her on more than one occasion when she was in school.

Suddenly, she had the feeling that she was being observed. Across the practice field that same photographer who moments earlier was photographing the girls on the field was taking pictures of her. She began to feel anxious. She turned to leave when she heard the man shout at her. He gestured frantically, and she hesitated. Why did she stop? He was a total stranger and now he was walking towards her. She shou8ld be wary, and yet she paused and waited.

A well placed kick and the soccer ball headed back up the field towards the man crossing towards her. He ran the remaining distance with a bulky camera bag flopping around his neck as he jogged. He stopped a few feet away from her wearing a big grin.

"Hello. I'm sorry I startled you," he said as he held out a business card. "I wanted to give you my card and apologize if taking your picture upset you."

She took his card. Mark Blake – photographer. His web address and a phone number were under his name.

"Uh, hi, no," she stammered, "well, yes it did surprise me when I realized that you were pointing your camera at me." His smile was nice and his eyes twinkled in the sunlight.

"I'm Mark. I'm sorry; it's a habit of mine. When I see something beautiful I want a photo to remember it by." He offered her his hand.

Being called beautiful was a bit forward for a complete stranger, but then again, it was nice to hear it. He looked sincere, which was an odd thought given that she had just severed a relationship with a man who wasn't.

"That's okay, it just surprised me. I'm Karin West." She shook his hand.

"It's nice to meet you. Look, if you want, I'll delete them, but I'd like you to see them first, the camera really loves you." He turned his camera around so that she could see the image screen on the back.

"Really?"

He moved to stand beside her. He held the camera up and pushed a button to scroll through a dozen images. His hands were slender and there wasn't a wedding ring. Nor was there a tan line to suggest it might have been removed recently.

"Oh, they look lovely, especially that one."

"Would you like me to send them to you?" He stepped around and faced her. "Email them to you is what I mean."

She held up his business card. "I can't afford to pay you."

"No, no, as a gift, for being such a lovely model." A breeze tousled his sandy blonde hair. He brushed it back out of his eyes.

"Yes, I'd like that," she said. She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ears. He was so completely opposite from Robert. He seems so open and so...genuine.

Suddenly, in a burst of speed and laughter, two girls collided with Mark from behind and hugged him.

"Oof! Hey you two." He reached around to tickle them. "Come around here and meet Ms. West. She was watching your practice. Ms. West, these are my daughters, Amy and Lea." He pointed them out as he named them. Amy was the taller of the two and she seemed a little reserved. Lea wore a pair of pigtails with pink ribbons. She peeked around Mark with a big grin displaying two missing teeth on top.

Both girls spoke in unison. "Hello."

Daughters? The girls looked Asian. "Hello. It looked like you both played really hard today. Is your mother here to watch you too?"

Amy, the older of the two girls, shook her head. "Our mother doesn't live with us." Then she grabbed her sister's hand and they dashed off across the field.

Karin turned towards Mark; her face felt warm. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's okay," he replied quickly. "She lives in South America, that's what she meant."

Karin nodded, not knowing what else to say. Families and relationships were so complicated. Her mind flashed back to her lawyer's office and her signature. It seemed like everyone was divorced these days.

His daughters ran back to tug Mark's arms. They giggled as they pulled him towards the parking lot. "Oh, you guys are too tough for me. I guess we're going."

"It was nice to have met you, Mr. Blake."

He grinned as his daughters let go of his arms and raced ahead of him. "I'll email the pictures to you tonight. Oh, wait, I forgot. What's your email address?" He walked over and handed her a pen with another of his business cards.

She jotted down her email address and handed it back to him with a shy smile. "Thank you, I'm looking forward to seeing them."

APPOINTMENTS.

A week later, Karin's finger skimmed across the dialing pad on her cellphone. She hesitated a moment, checking Mark's number to make sure she got it right, then she pushed the send button. It began to ring.

She had hoped that one of the pictures Mark sent her from the park would work but Elaine, her publisher, rejected each one.

"You look out of place for this to be a book jacket photo," Elaine complained as she skimmed through the digital images Mark sent. "Your hair is blowing across your face, you look too casual. None of them say 'She's a children's book author,' do they? Maybe if we saw a book in your hands," Elaine shrugged. She handed Karin's iPad back to her.

Karin dropped the tablet into her bag. "I suppose not." She liked the images. She looked so carefree, even happy. She was glad she told Mark to keep the copies. But only after he promised not to post them.

She paused; her pulse was racing. Why was she acting this way? All she needed was a simple photograph. It wasn't like she was going to ask him out to dinner or anything. Of course, the idea was intriguing, a casual dinner out, candlelight, perhaps a little conversation. She quickly dismissed the idea. It was too soon.

The phone rang once more, then a click, and a man's voice. "Hello? Blake Photography. How can I help you?"

She hesitated. "Hi, is this Mark Blake?"

"Yes, can I help you?" His voice sounded happy. It was so nice to hear him again.

"It's me, Karin West." Her mouth felt dry.

"Oh, hi, how are you?"

"I'm good. How are you and the girls?"

"They're fine, they drive me crazy sometimes, but I love them. What's up?"

"Well, it's sort of a long story but the gist of it is that I need to hire you as a photographer."

"Really? What are you looking for? Headshot? Family gathering? Passport photo?" He emphasized the words of last suggestion, which brought a chuckle out of him.

"No, nothing like that." Outside of her house, Elaine was pulling up into her driveway. She was early. She was usually so punctual. "Damn it."

"What?"

"Oh, no, sorry, I, uh, just spilled some coffee." She lied.

"Did you get burnt?"

"No, it just made a mess." She lied again. Her face felt warm.

She drew a big breath. Elaine could wait.

"I need a photo of me for a book jacket," she said taking a big breath and letting it out slowly. "Oh, but I don't want it to be a headshot. Not that a headshot is wrong, but they just doesn't appeal to me."

Elaine got out of her car and was pushing her car remote several times making the lights flash incessantly. Why did she have to be so early today?

Mark's voice sounded hopeful. "Would one of those shots I took of you at the park work?"

"No," she sighed. "Elaine, my publisher, said none of them looked book author-ish."

"Oh, got it," he replied. "What sort of book is it?"

"It's a children's book. I'm doing a whole series on children growing up on a farm."

"That's great." There was a pause. "Wait, what's one of your titles?"

"Well, my latest is _The Day the Donkey Chewed My Hat_."

"I've got that book! Lea loves it. Now I know where I've seen your name."

She began to twist a strand of her hair. "Really?" Her finger became tangled in one of her curls. She let it go and dropped her hand into her lap. "Thank you, I'm glad to hear that."

"Did you do the illustrations too?"

Elaine was walking up the driveway. "Yes. I used to work with another illustrator but it didn't work out."

"I'm sorry."

"That's okay, don't worry about it. Look, my publisher just walked up to my front door so I have to go. Can we meet sometime soon to discuss the details? Maybe over coffee?"

"Sure, how about later today?"

"I can't, I have an appointment. Tomorrow?"

"That works, how about two o'clock?"

The doorbell rang and Elaine was peering in through her front window.

Karin rolled her eyes. "I have to get the door."

"Say," he said, "there's a coffee house on Grove near Ninth Street, do you know it?"

"I do, that'll be perfect," she said as she opened the door. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you then," he replied and her phone clicked silent.

Elaine flounced on the couch flipping her floppy hat on the coffee table in front of her. "Who was that?"

Images of Mark and his girls drifted through her mind as she stood at her front door. "Huh?"

"On the phone just now, who was that?"

"Oh, Mark Blake," Karin replied still not connected to the present. "That photographer I told you about. He took those pictures of me in the park. He has a good eye." She set her phone on the coffee table.

"Oh, yes," Elaine nodded, "they were nice, just not what we are looking for. Are you going to meet him?"

"Yes, tomorrow at two," Karin walked across the room into her kitchen. "Want some coffee?"

"Sure. Where?"

Karin pulled out two mugs and filled them with coffee from her carafe. "The coffee shop on Grove near Ninth Street." Karin returned to stand in the kitchen doorway. "Why?"

Elaine shrugged her shoulders. "No reason, just curious."

"Elaine Tanner, don't you dare meddle." She felt her face suddenly get warm. She walked across the room and set a cup of coffee for Elaine on the table in front of her.

"I won't," Elaine replied with a smirk. "I just want to make sure he's not some random axe murderer." She glanced up at Karin innocently. "What?"

What was with the 'mother-hen' routine? "Elaine, I don't need you to protect me. I can do this on my own. There's no need for you to be there."

"I'll leave before you meet with him. I just want to make sure you're safe."

"Oh for heaven's sakes," Karin grumbled as she flopped down in a chair.

"Humor me, I promise I'll leave right away."

"You had better."

COFFEE.

The coffee shop was busy the afternoon Karin agreed to meet Mark. She sat at a table away from the front door but it was still in view. Elaine sat across from her jabbering on about a new client she just signed. They were jammed between two other tables; the room was filled with people intent on idle conversation.

Three minutes after two Mark walked into the shop and Karin smiled.

Elaine turned towards the door. "Is that him?"

Karin nodded as Mark waved and made his way towards the counter. He spoke briefly to a clerk who stepped away to fill his order.

"Hmm, very nice."

"Elaine, you promised." Karin hissed between clenched teeth.

"Okay, okay, I'm going," she said as she stood up, her eyes sparkled with delight. "Call me later with details."

Karin glared at her as Elaine smirked, then wove through the crowd of customers heading for the front door.

"Hi." Mark pulled a chair out to sit. "Did I interrupt something?"

"No, that was just my nosy publisher." Karin scrunched her lips into a half smile. Outside the front door Elaine gestured through the glass with an exaggerated 'thumbs-up'. Karin rolled her eyes then turned to Mark. "She means well but she can be exasperating sometimes."

"Good friends often are," he replied stirring a sugar packet into his coffee.

Yes, she is a good friend.

He pulled out a small notepad. "You know, in a way, I'm glad none of those photographs I took of you in the park worked for your book cover."

That caught her off guard. "Why?"

"Because this way I get to see you again." His eyes sparkled in the sunlight. Then he shrugged with a sheepish grin. "I suppose that was a bit too forward of me but still, I am looking forward to it."

She turned away and smiled then turned back to him. "I am too." Why did the thought of being photographed by him make her feel like she was twenty again?

He scribbled a note and looked up. "So, tell me about the new book?"

"It's a continuation of my farm life series. It's called _Three Goats and a Wayward Duck._ "

"Sounds like fun," he made another note. "Are you finished?"

"Nearly," she replied. "I completed the last of the illustrations on Friday."

Mark nodded and made a few more notes. His handwriting wasn't all that legible but then again, whose was these days?

"Have you always written children's books?"

"I did try my hand at a romance novel once, but that didn't pan out too well."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"That's okay. I was going through a difficult time and I guess my heart wasn't in it."

"I know it's hard to be creative when things around you are crazy. I remembered how hard it was to stay focused after my ex left."

"You said she's living in South America?"

Mark nodded.

"Separated?"

Mark shrugged his shoulders. "More like abandoned."

That was so unexpected it made her laugh. It wasn't something she'd done in a while. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have laughed but I didn't expect you to say it quite that way."

"That's okay, I suppose it sounds kind of extreme and at the time, I thought it was. Mieko, their mom, always was a free spirit so I guess I should have seen it coming, but it still was a surprise."

Mark sipped his coffee as Karin stirred more cream in hers.

"I met her when I was working in Hawaii on a photo shoot for a sporting goods company. They were doing a startup campaign and she was the company rep in Honolulu. We stayed together for a few years, until Lea was born, and then she decided that motherhood wasn't what she wanted in life." He shrugged his shoulders with a half smile.

"She's living in Bolivia now with an airline pilot she met on a vacation trip to Brazil. She was down there with some friends when Lea and Amy were one and three. That was five years ago." His eyes were gentle, even talking about something so difficult.

"Do the girls ever get to see her?"

"Not since she left," he shrugged his shoulders again, "maybe someday. Amy was a little angry about it but Lea was only one when Mieko left so all she's ever known is me and her grandparents."

Karin sipped her coffee. Raising two girls all by yourself has to be tough. They seemed so happy though.

"My girls thought you were nice, especially Lea when I told her that you wrote her favorite book."

"Thank you, at least I have one fan."

"Oh, I imagine you have lots of fans, Ms. West."

"Please, call me Karin."

He nodded. "So when do you want to do the photo shoot?"

"Does next Saturday work?"

Mark flipped through an appointment book. "Yes, it does. I have to see if I can find someone to watch the girls. Can I get back to you with a specific time?"

"Sure. Do you want to meet in your studio?"

"You said you didn't want to do a headshot so I thought it might be better if we took some photos in your office where you do your work."

She smiled as she paused a moment. "Yes, I like that, professional but not stuffy."

"Exactly."

"Is there anything I need to do to prepare?"

Mark slipped his appointment book back into his pocket. "Not really, though it would help if you have several changes of clothes so we have something to pick from. Sometimes the first choice isn't necessarily the best one."

"Okay," she said somewhat distracted by the swirl of cream in her coffee.

Now it was time to go, the reason for their meeting was over. But she didn't want to leave and she didn't want him to go either. She wasn't sure why, she just met him a week ago. But somehow sitting across the table from him was nice. She wanted him to stay with her and enjoy the afternoon. Not to talk about anything important, but just to be there, together, for a while.

"Karin?"

"Huh?" The spell was broken. Her face felt a little warm.

He handed her his notepad and pen. "May I have your home address?"

"Oh, sure." She jotted down her address. "Next Saturday then?"

He stood up and offered his hand. "I'll call you when I know what time."

She took it, holding on to it perhaps longer than she should. "Thank you." Then she realized that he was expecting her to return his notepad. She handed it to him with a meek smile and dropped her hands into her lap. Her face felt even warmer. She hoped he hadn't noticed.

"Bye." He wove back through the crowd then turned to offer her a little wave at the front door and was gone.

PHOTOS.

The faces of two little girls, one in pigtails and the other with a ponytail, peered through the side window by Karin's front door as a door chime repeatedly announced their arrival.

"Lea, only push the button once, sweetheart." Mark grinned as Karin opened her front door. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," she said then gestured towards the living room. "Come in. Have a seat. Would you girls like some lemonade?"

"Yeah," both girls said in unison.

"Let me show you to the kitchen," she turned to lead the way. "My friend Elaine is making some for you now."

"Karin, you really don't have to," Mark said following behind them.

"It's my treat," Karin interrupted with a smile and a wave.

In the kitchen, Elaine filled several glasses of lemonade on the counter. "Have a seat girls. After we have some lemonade we're going to play a game."

Amy's face lit up. She climbed up onto a stool next to her little sister. "Really? What sort of game?"

Elaine spread a card deck on the counter. "How about Old Maid, I bet you can't beat me. Ever played it?"

Both girls shook their heads.

"Okay, here are the rules."

Mark nodded to Karin and they slipped quietly out of her kitchen. "Elaine is great."

Karin smiled. "She has two teenage girls, don't worry, she'll keep them busy." She gestured down a hallway. "My office is down to the right."

In her office, Mark set his camera bag on a small table and began to pull out a couple of lenses. "I'm sorry about my daughters, my usual sitter is sick and my parents are out of town."

"Oh no problem, I love your kids. Besides, it keeps Elaine out of my hair so that's a good thing too."

He laughed as he placed some reflective umbrellas in front of a couple of portable lights then put the lights onto some stands. "Good point. It'll be just a minute and I'll be set up. Can you hand me that extension cord?"

It wasn't long and Mark was ready for the first pose. "I love the light coming through those windows behind the desk. I'm going to throw a color filter in front of my lights to balance things out." He pulled a couple of color frames out of his lighting kit and snapped them in place.

"Okay, sit behind the desk and start typing. I'm going to move about the room and shoot several angles. Don't look at the camera unless I tell you to, okay?"

Karin nodded and began typing. "What should I type?"

The camera clicked and he moved to the other side of her monitor. "It doesn't matter, we'll never see the screen." Then he moved closer with the camera and clicked several more shots.

He paused a moment and reviewed some of the images.

"Can I see?" She craned her head to lean around the monitor.

He came around the desk and held the camera as he scanned through the images.

"They're okay but I think I want something more dynamic," she said.

"Me too." He surveyed her office. "What if you're reading one of your books?"

"Let's try it." She stood up and walked around her desk to pull a book off a nearby bookshelf.

Elaine poked her head into the office. "How's it going?"

"Okay," Karin said, "how are the girls?"

"They're wicked players," she said glancing at Mark. "Who taught them, you?"

"Nope, they're just really smart."

Karin walked back around her desk and sat down. She opened the book to pretended to read.

Lea slipped past Elaine followed by Amy. "Ms. West, can you read _The Day the Donkey Chewed My Hat_ to me?"

Amy stood scanning the books on Karin's bookshelves. She found the book and turned to hand it to Karin. "I'd like to hear it too Ms. West."

"First of all, please call me Karin." She turned to Mark who stood with a sheepish grin, and then to Elaine who nodded encouragement. She reached across her desk to take the book Amy offered. "Okay, come around here so you can see the pictures."

Both girls ran around her desk. Lea climbed into her lap and Amy leaned next to her sister. Karin wrapped her arms around the girls and opened the book to read.

The afternoon sun streamed through the bay window as they sat listening to Lea's favorite book. Mark moved silently around the room, the click of his camera was the only sound beyond Karin's gentle voice.

"The end," she said hugging both girls when she finished.

"Come on you two." Elaine held out her hands to Amy and Lea. "Let's go back into the kitchen and let your dad finish up."

"I think I'm done, look." He held up the camera to scroll through several images as Elaine looked over his shoulder.

"Oh my, that one is perfect," she said.

Mark tilted the camera down to show his daughters as they crowded around Elaine. Then he lifted the camera up to Karin. The afternoon sun bathed them in an amber glow and illustrated the cherub faces of the two girls listening to Karin read her story. It spoke volumes.

"Oh, the light is beautiful." She smiled at Mark then touched his arm. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, it was my pleasure." His cheeks blushed.

"Come on Amy and Lea, back into the kitchen while your dad packs up." Elaine tried her best to herd the two girls out of Karin's office.

Mark turned off his photo lamps and pulled the reflective umbrellas off the stands. "It'll take a few minutes for the lamps to cool before I can pack them away."

Karin stopped at the office door and turned to him. "Would you like some lemonade while we wait?"

He nodded. "That'd be great, thanks."

A few minutes later Karin returned with two glasses of lemonade. Mark was packing the last of his lights into his light kit. "Here you go."

"Thanks." Mark took the glass and sat it on a small table near his chair.

Down the hall Lea squealed, "Slap jack!"

"This was fun." Karin took a sip of her lemonade. She didn't want the afternoon to end but the afternoon sun was fading.

"It sounds like the girls are enjoying themselves."

"Elaine is in her element. She's basically an overgrown kid at heart."

Mark wrapped a cord and placed it in his kit. "Have you two known each other for very long?"

"Since high school, we took western civ together and hated it," she said with a chuckle. "I think we formed a pact after that. How about you? Anyone special?"

"Nope, just family. I came back here after Mieko left so my parents could help with the girls while I got back on my feet. It was slow going for a while but things are finally looking up," he added with a grin.

They both sat silent. The only sounds were the squeals and laughter coming from the kitchen.

She took a big breath and let out slowly. Things like this were always so hard to say. "Mark, I like you and I adore your daughters. I guess this is just a case of bad timing. We both came out of difficult relationships so..."

"We should take things slow, I know."

"Uh-huh."

"I want that too." He turned and looked into her eyes. "And life is always more complicated when you have kids involved."

"I know."

He reached across and took her hand. "So maybe we can be..."

"Friends who share a cup of coffee from time to time?"

He nodded. "Exactly. Until things change and we both want something more." He glanced beyond her to the office door.

She followed his glance. "I'd like that too." Two little faces were peeking around the doorframe.

Amy stepped into the room. "Daddy, did you finish packing up?"

"Yup, are you ready to go?"

"Uh-huh."

He turned to her with a wink. "It's been fun Karin. I'll put these images together onto a proof sheet and we can go over them next week."

"Call me and we'll meet for coffee or something."

"Sounds great." He stood up and turned to his older daughter. "Amy, can you carry this bag for me? Lea, don't forget to say thank you to Ms. Tanner."

Lea ducked back down the hallway and gave Elaine a hug. "Thank you Ms. Tanner, I had lots of fun."

Mark and Amy appeared in the kitchen doorway as Karin slipped past them towards the front door.

Elaine gathered the cards off the counter and stood up. "Are you all done?"

"Yes, all packed and ready to go," he replied. "Elaine thanks for being such a big help with my girls. It made the whole day go a lot easier."

"Happy to help and from the looks of those images they helped you too."

"That they did. See you." He walked out the front door with his daughters in tow.

Karin closed the door and leaned against it with a smile.

"What did you two do in there? Packing shouldn't have taken that long," Elaine said leaning against the wall with a cockeyed grin.

Karin sighed and flopped down on the couch. "We talked."

Elaine sat down in a chair and leaned forward wearing a subtle smile. "And?"

"And I like him. He's so completely different from Robert, thank God. We both agreed to be friends and see where that leads. That's enough for now." Karin reached over and pulled a pillow over her head. "Argh, why does life have to be so complicated?"

"Come on, grab your coat," Elaine said pulling Karin's arm. "I'm in the mood for sushi."

THE STUDIO.

Mark called the following week and Karin suggested they meet in his studio instead of a coffee shop. He gave her his address.

"Hi." Karin said as Mark opened his front door. She was wearing a colorful sundress and sandals, and her heir was pulled back into a ponytail. "I'm sorry I'm late, Elaine insisted on telling me everything about her date last night. She was very elaborate."

"I imagine it's an occupational hazard," Mark replied laughing. "You said she has older children. Do the children see their father?"

"Sometimes, never as often as they'd like. He lives in another city and sometimes his new wife is a bit caustic, at least according to Elaine. Well, divorce seems to be the fashion du jour, I guess."

"It's a difficult climate sometimes," he said leading the way through his house.

Karin admired the photography on display in his living room. Some of the landscape shots were spectacular and the images of his daughters were especially touching.

Mark pointed to a hallway near the back of the living room. "My studio is in the basement," he said directing her down the hallway to a set of stairs.

He flipped on a set of lights and Karin followed him over to a layout table. He picked up a set of proof sheets and a grease pencil. "I really liked these two but only one is needed. What do you think?"

Karin studied the photo proofs carefully.

Mark handed her a loupe, a sort of close-up eyepiece, to help her see the images better.

"I really like this one. I love the way the light hits Lea's face, and with Amy in the background, it's adorable."

"I agree," he said looking over her shoulder. "I'll print up a couple of eight by tens and send them over to Elaine for her final approval then we can go from there." He took a grease pencil and marked a small check by the photo she selected.

Karin turned and looked at him, the soft light of the layout table bathed her face in an amber glow. "Mark, this is really great, I can't tell you how much I appreciate this. I never would have imagined that an image like this would have worked out the way it did."

"Me either, total accident but I'll take credit for it nonetheless," he grinned in agreement as he turned to her. She was still close enough to kiss him. She wanted to, but she felt that the timing was a bit off. Then again, the sound of rapid footsteps racing down the stairs changed the moment in a split second and the moment was lost.

Amy burst through the studio door breathlessly. "Daddy, can Sarah and her cousin come over to play?"

"Sure. Wait, where are you going to be?"

Amy turned abruptly and ran into her little sister who stumbled around her and headed to Karin. "In my room, I've got a game setup and everything," she said as she scampered back up the stairs.

Lea came over to stand next to her favorite author. "Hi," she said brightly turning her face into the light. She looked so cute when she did that.

Karin leaned down and wrapped her arms around Lea. "Hi back at you. What are you and your sister doing?"

"Amy wants her friend Sarah and her cousin to come over and play a board game. I'm not interested in that. Can we read another book together?"

Karin looked up to Mark who shrugged and nodded. She smiled at Lea. "Sure, which one?"

Lea grabbed Karin's hand and pulled her towards the stairs. "I'll show you. Daddy bought it for me yesterday."

Karin looked back at Mark and smiled.

He grinned. "Stay for dinner? The girls and I are cooking. It's pasta night at the Blake household."

"Sounds great." Then she disappeared out the studio door to follow Lea up to her bedroom.

Mark stopped in the upstairs hallway and knocked on Amy's door. He opened it to peek in. "Hey kiddo, we have a guest for dinner and you promised to make the salad. So you only have another hour before we start, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy," she said coming to her door as two other girls giggled in the background. Mark closed it softly.

They were probably talking about bugger-headed boys at school more than playing chutes and ladders would be his guess. But sometimes ignorance is bliss, at least when it's girls and they're only eight.

A little more than an hour later Amy's friends were gone and she was in the throes of dicing carrots for the tossed salad that her dad asked her to make. Lea helped by pulling the tomatoes and cucumbers from the fridge. She found a peeler and began to remove the cucumber skins.

Karin sat on a stool across the counter and watched it all while nursing a glass of Chianti. "You guys are quite a team. You look like you've done this before."

"Every Thursday night is pasta night at our house," Mark said. "Amy made the dessert tonight too. It's an apple crumb crisp."

"That sounds delicious," Karin replied and Amy blushed a little in response.

"It has cranberries in it too," Mark added.

"Great." Karin noticed that Amy tended to be a bit standoffish around her, not reacting openly to compliments from her dad. Her sister, Lea, was much more accepting. She wondered if it was because Amy was old enough to remember her mother before she left.

Karin stood up and set her wine glass on the counter. "Where's your restroom, Mark? I need to freshen up."

"There's a half-bath down that hallway behind you," he replied with a gesture towards the bathroom.

After Karin left, Amy turned to her dad. "Why is she here tonight?"

"Because I invited her, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Amy replied rather crisply.

Knowing his daughter too well, Mark stopped stirring the pasta sauce and turned off the stove. "Okay, Amy what's really bothering you?"

"I don't want us to be hurt again," Amy said placing her hands on her hips and offering him a little pout.

If it wasn't such a serious conversation, he would have grinned because she looked too cute for words. Mark pulled his daughter over to the kitchenette and sat down with her. "Karin is not your mother Amy, she knows that, too. Right now she's just a good friend. But even if something were to come of it, Karin is not going to hurt me, I'm sure of it. And she's not going to hurt you either, okay?"

Amy folded her arms with a shrug. She turned her head and "humpfed." It would take a while before his oldest daughter could trust again. The thought sadden Mark, but he knew that soon enough Karin was going to make a difference in her life like she was making a difference in his. Mark returned to his saucepan.

Karin walked back into the kitchen and took her seat at the counter. She could sense that something had happened while she was gone. Amy looked sullen and Mark shook his head. She knew she had to say something but she was unsure of what that was.

Suddenly, it became apparent what she could do. "Amy, can you help me a moment?" She stood up and walked to the hallway that led to the living room.

Amy was puzzled for a moment and then looked to her dad who shrugged and nodded. She smiled briefly at Karin and followed her into the hallway.

Karin pulled out her folder with the photo proofs that Mark showed her. "Can you help me decide which one I should use, I still can't make up my mind."

Amy nodded briefly and looked over at the images on her daddy's proof sheets. She studied them carefully then eventually chose exactly the same one as Karin and Mark did earlier.

Karin smiled. "Yeah, I liked that one, too. I'll tell your dad later which one he should print up for Elaine. Thanks."

Amy looked up with a slight frown; she stood twisting her foot in the area rug. "Are you going to hurt my dad?"

Karin sighed. "No. I was hurt once too, I guess both of us are a little broken. And maybe that is what will help us mend," she said candidly. Amy frowned a bit on that thought.

"What I mean is, if we decide to get together, maybe we can help each other get better, with your help, and Lea's too."

Amy smiled, for the first time tonight her expression was open and sympathetic. Karin almost cried but she held her tears. What a precious little girl, so worldly wise and yet so young.

"Why don't you see if your dad needs any more help, I just need to put these away and I'll be right in, and thanks sweetie, for all your help." Amy smiled then walked back to the kitchen and Karin wiped the tears forming in her eyes, then she dropped the proof sheets back into the folder and placed them on top of her purse. My God, they're both precious in their own way.

BAGELS

It was a Tuesday the following week and Karin asked Mark to coffee at the bagel shop where they first met.

Mark waved to her as he entered the shop; he walked over to her and handed her an envelope. "Hi. Here's a SD card with all the images on it, including the ones I took in the park. They're bigger images than the ones on that proof sheet."

"Great, thanks. Want to get some coffee?"

"Sure, I'll be right back." He walked up to the counter and ordered a mug of decaf. Then he turned to join Karin at her table.

"So, how are those new illustrations going?"

Karin smiled. "Well...but they take time. Even though watercolors are supposed to be fast, I still labor over each one."

"It shows. That may be why they're Lea's favorite books, although Amy has taken a keen interest in the images lately."

"Really?"

"She's a budding artist in her own right. The next time you're over, ask to see some of her pictures. They're rather good, especially for an eight-year old."

Karin took a sip of her coffee. "I will. So, how about you? Any new work lately?"

"It's kind of slow at the moment. Things get crazy hectic at Christmas and in the spring with school photos and the like but until then, it's catch as catch can. I was thinking of going on a camping trip with Amy and Lea sometime in the fall, want to join us?"

"You have a camper?"

"No, a bit more rugged, we have a tent. We usually head over to Lake Williams for the weekend and get back on Sunday. I have all the other amenities, camp stove, coffeepot, of course, a few cast iron skillets, and a Dutch oven for the campfire."

"Dutch oven?"

"It's a cast iron pot with a lid that you place in the coals and fill it with a roast and potatoes and carrots, plus a beer garnish. Totally yummy."

"Now that sounds appetizing. What about showers and such?"

"The campsite is a state-owned facility but they do have a nice shower house with hot water and toilets."

"Okay. I'm in, when do we go?"

"Two weeks? I need to arrange my schedule. Will that work?"

"It does. What do I need to bring?"

"Do you have a sleeping bag?"

"No, can you help me buy one?"

"Of course, let's go after this if you're free. We can go over to Bass Pro Shop on the other side of town near a Wal-Mart."

"I've seen it, that's perfect."

"Then if there's anything else there that catches your eye we can get that too."

Karin finished her coffee and set her mug down. "I hear the weather should be good for camping too."

Mark laughed.

Karin's expression was puzzled. "What?"

"I was supposed to talk about the weather. Didn't you see the fine print in the friendship agreement? Whenever the conversation lulls the guy is supposed to talk about the weather."

"I missed that part," she said as they gathered their things and walked out the front door.

Mark shrugged and grinned. "I guess all that's left is a hug and a kiss." He turned and kissed her on the cheek, and then he hugged her briefly.

She stood a moment and blinked. That was nice, real nice. She offered him a subtle smile. Next time, she hoped that kiss was on the lips.

She followed him across town and parked in the camping store parking lot. He stood by the entryway waiting for her. Once inside, they made a beeline for the camping gear.

There was a vast assortment from sub-zero to temperate. "I'd start with a nylon bag for temperate climates. It usually doesn't get below 50 on the nights we camp so a sub-zero bag is nice but overkill."

Karin nodded and looked at each bag carefully; finally selecting a nylon[-lined bag with a polyester shell. "I think I like this one, what do you think?"

"It looks like a good choice, we have several like it already."

"Great." She searched the boxes for the correct bag, pulled it out and placed it on the sale counter. "What about flashlights?"

"They're over here," Mark gestured to the right. "We already have some but you can never have too many flashlights. Especially at home in a storm."

Karin nodded and searched the selection, finally choosing a small one with a bright case. "What about a lantern?"

"We have two, the girls love them."

"Then I guess we're done," she grinned as she walked to the register. "This is going to be fun. I haven't camped out since I was a little girl. My daddy took me and my sister on a couple of trips."

"Where's your dad now?"

"He passed several years ago...cancer," she said looking a bit sadden by her loss. "He really loved his daughters. Sort of like you."

Mark nodded and offered her a half-smile.

Karin paid for the bag and flashlight. Mark grabbed the sleeping bag and helped her to her car.

She smiled, waved, and slipped in behind the wheel as Mark closed her trunk.

"I'll see you soon, Karin." He walked to his car as she backed out and left the parking lot waving outside of her window as she left.

FRONT STEPS

On Thursday of that week, Karin walked down the sidewalk towards Mark's apartment. She showed up at his doorstep about the time a school bus pulled up and stopped a block away. A moment later, the girls hopped out of the bus and ran up to the house.

Karin sat waiting and waved to them. They clustered on the steps and Lea wrapped her arms around Karin's neck and hugged her from behind. Mark didn't seem to be home quite yet.

"Where's your dad?"

Amy sat digging in her backpack. "He had a sports shoot in Springfield at the high school. It was the annual football team picture; he's done it for years. He should be back at any minute." She pulled out a key on a ring with a cute little kitty key fob. "I've got a key if you need to go inside."

"That's okay, it's sort of fun to sit here with you two and enjoy this lovely weather."

Lea snuggled close, draping her arms around Karin. Her cherub face just glowed. "Are you going to write another book soon?"

"I'm working on another now, but they take time, especially all the pictures."

Amy turned to her with a puzzled expression. "You do all the paintings, too?"

"I do. They take a lot of work sometimes. Do you want to come over and watch?"

Amy brightened considerably. "Could I?"

Lea perked up and hugged Karin, again. "Me too!"

"Of course, why don't we ask your dad if you can come over this weekend?"

"Okay."

Karin pulled out a copy of her latest book and held it open to the picture of them together.

Lea crowded over her shoulder and smiled. "Wow, we look great!"

"Yes you both do, Elaine loved the photograph and your dad is a great photographer."

"Yes, he is," Amy agreed.

They studied the image for a while as they waited for Mark to return.

"You know," Karin said after considering the photo, "I bet someone could make a graphic out of this image and then I could use that as a logo for my work."

Amy looked at the image again. "You mean like a drawing?"

Karin nodded. "It might be really nice, don't you think?"

Amy smiled. "Yeah. My teacher showed me how to do a special drawing where we don't lift the pencil off the page, ever. We just copy something without looking. Most of the time they look funny. They're even hard to tell what they are supposed to be, but every once and a while they're really neat."

Karin grinned. "I know what that is! It's called a contour drawing. Here," she said pulling out her cellphone, "I'll search for an example." She swiped the screen on her phone and tapped in a few key words. In a matter of moments, several images appeared."

Amy pointed excitedly. "That's sort of like what my teacher wanted us to do. We drew a basket of fruit, it didn't look like that at all, but it was fun."

"Hmm," Karin said as she looked back at the image. "I think that might look great as a logo. So do you mind if you're part of it?"

Amy shook her head and beamed a broad smile. "No, not at all."

"Fantastic."

Then Amy's expression clouded somewhat; she seemed to be working through a thought. "Do you want to date my dad?"

"Would that be all right with you two?"

They nodded and Amy replied, "you're cool, so it'll be okay."

Karin glanced at Amy. "Did you say that to your dad?"

She nodded and shrugged. "Yup, but I think he's afraid to ask you."

"Why?"

"I don't know, maybe because of my mom," Amy replied half-heartedly.

"What do you mean?"

"She was my mom," Amy said quietly. "But she didn't want to be."

That meant something to Karin. It still did. Did she want to be a mom? She looked off across the street at nothing in particular and thought about it for a while. Then she turned to Amy.

"What would you think if your daddy and I started living together?"

Amy considered the idea for a bit while Lea looked on. Then she asked softly. "Would you sing me a lullaby?" Lea nodded enthusiastically.

"Always."

Amy grinned and suddenly leaned her head against Karin's arm. It brought tears to her eyes. She tried to wipe them subtly as Mark walked around the corner and up to the steps.

"Hey girls, sorry I'm late. What's for supper?"

Amy grinned. "It's Thursday night, Daddy!"

Then all three shouted. "It's pasta night!"

Mark opened his front door and Karin followed everyone into his home. As Karin passed through the living room she glanced again at the images of the two girls.

"You really love your daughters, don't you?"

"I do," he smiled, "but why do you say that?"

"Just the way you've captured their images in these photographs, they're beautiful."

"Would you like a copy?"

"I would love that, thank you." She followed Mark into the kitchen. Amy had already filled a pot with water and set it on the stove. She wasn't allowed to turn the stove on yet so she stood by beaming a broad smile as she waited for her daddy.

"Karin said we could come over this weekend and watch her paint pictures. Can we go, Daddy?"

"Of course, what day?"

"Tomorrow, maybe in the morning? I usually start early but whenever you get there is fine; I should be at it most of the day."

"Great, we'll be there as soon as I can get the girls ready. I must warn you, though, weekends are slower for getting up than school days, especially with Lea."

Lea turned with a pout. "Not true, Daddy, that was just one day. But tomorrow I'll be specially ready, you'll see." She turned and grinned with a gap between her two front teeth.

Mark looked shocked. "When did you loose a tooth?"

"This morning, when I was brushing. It's perfect for eating 'skettie' the noodles go right through!"

Mark laughed and Amy shook her head. Karin squatted down and looked at the gap in Lea's mouth. "It looks good, the new tooth is beginning to show." Then she stood up and whispered in Mark's ear. "I'll make the note that the tooth fairy leaves, I've always wanted to do that. You can place it there tonight after she goes to sleep."

"That sounds wonderful," he whispered back.

After dinner while they cleaned the kitchen and put the dishes in the dishwasher, Amy nudged her dad over towards Karin, who stood at the sink rinsing the bowls.

Mark looked down at is daughter with a puzzled expression.

Amy poked him in the ribs and nodded towards Karin. He leaned down to hear Amy's whisper. "Ask her," she said softly, cupping his ear with her tiny hand.

Mark blushed and grinned sheepishly at Karin. "Karin, I would like to know if you would like to go out with me, for dinner and a movie."

"I'd love to go, when?"

"I'm free tomorrow night," he grinned.

She smirked in reply, "So am I."

KARIN'S PLACE

Mark rang Karin's doorbell and waited on the front porch, Amy and Lea stood anxiously behind him. She opened the door a moment later. "Come in, come in, I've got everything set up in the office now acting like an art studio." She pointed towards the back hallway that led to her office.

Inside, she had a large wooden table lid set on her desk and several pieces of specialty watercolor paper strewn around her desk with pencil sketches drawn in lightly.

She sat down and picked up a brush while Amy and Lea crowded around and Mark, ever with a camera in his hand, began to snap pictures.

"These images might look good on your website."

Karin smiled and turned to Amy. "I start with a pencil sketch of what I want to show then once I'm satisfied with that, I start to add some background color. With watercolor it's different than tempera or acrylic, you have to do the background first and then layer on new colors afterwards."

"Sort of like lots of colors, each on top," Amy said, watching the process closely.

"Exactly," Karin added and then she held out a smaller piece of watercolor paper. "Here, why don't you use that pencil and draw me a picture of a bunny standing on its hind legs?"

"Can I?"

"Just don't press hard, keep the pencil drawing very light. I want to see what a bunny looks like to you."

Amy began to sketch her bunny, her tongue immediately slipped between her lips as she concentrated on her work. In no time at all, the form of a bunny began to take shape. When she finished, she handed the image back to Karin.

"Let's see," Karin said, studying the piece of paper with an image of a bunny standing up on it. She picked up a brush and began to add color to the background, making it look like the bunny was reaching for a particularly delicious piece of lettuce. Adding a bit of shadow made the image really pop visually and in a few minutes, the drawing was transformed into a painting.

"That looks great!" Amy said enthusiastically.

"It does, and I know just the place for it in my book, if that's alright with you? Can I use this image?"

"Of course!" Amy just beamed a broad smile as she turned to Mark and Lea. "She's going to use my bunny in her book," she gushed and wiggled excitedly.

"It sort of looks like the work of Beatrix Potter," Karin said to Mark. "It has the same feeling."

"Well, the 'Peter Cottontail' books are Amy's favorite," he said smiling broadly.

The girls, Amy in particular, continued to watch Karin paint for another hour before their dad told them they needed to help him grocery shop. That was met, as he expected, with groans, but Karin promised that they could help her again soon.

Later that evening, near six o'clock, Mark returned to Karin's doorstep and rung her doorbell. She smiled as she opened her door. "Hi."

She was dressed in a simple wrap dress of dark blue silk with low heels. Her hair was back in a ponytail, which gave her a youthful appearance.

"You look wonderful, tonight. When did you find the time? We only left a couple of hours ago. I apologize for that, both girls seemed infatuated with what you were doing."

"Don't worry about it, I loved the company. And you're right, Amy is going to be quite the artist in a couple of years. She's a fast learner."

"She is," he agreed. "Shall we go?"

"What movie are we going to see?"

"Do you like older ones?"

"Some of them."

"Well, they're playing _Roman Holiday_ at the Bijou tonight, would that be okay?"

"I've never seen it, who's in it?"

"Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck, it's a classic."

"Wonderful, that sounds perfect," she said turning to lock her front door. "I was worried for a moment that it was some sort of war picture."

"I know better than that!" He grinned, placing his hands on his hips as his ears shot red. He held out his hand and escorted Karin off her front steps.

"But before that, there's a little Asian place I'd like to visit, I haven't been there in a while and I thought it might be fun. Do you like Ramen?"

"You mean the stuff you get at the grocery store?"

"No, that stuff is junk food. I mean real ramen. There's a place on Sutton I like to go to when I'm in the mood and tonight is a great night for a treat. How are you with chopsticks?"

"Hmmm. This sounds like it's turning into an adventure."

"It sort of is, are you up for it?"

Her eyes sparkled with anticipation as she nodded.

After dinner, Mark drove them over to a little 'art house' theatre that played classic run movies in a trendy neighborhood. They sat in the back row and necked through most of the movie.

As the credits rolled across the screen, Mark turned to Karin. "Want to come to my place for a nightcap? I need to relieve my sitter." She blushed as she nodded.

"Swing by and let me pick up my car and I can follow you over there," Karin offered.

"Sounds great," he said holding her hand as they walked to his car.

Twenty minutes later, they walked up to his front steps. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the lips. "A glass of wine, perhaps?"

She leaned forward and returned his kissed with a smile. "Of course."

Mark glanced up to see his two girls watching from the front window; Karin joined him. A third face appeared in the window, it was an older woman with a kind smile.

Mark grins. "You know we're being observed, don't you?"

Karin laughed and hugged him. "The front window with all the curious eyes?"

He nodded as she glanced back up to the window again. "Who's that with Amy and Lea?"

"That's my mom. She's watching the girls tonight, but if I'm out too late she gets tired."

"Hmm, do you think she approves of me?"

"Of course, but the big one to win over is Amy, she's the stubborn one. I think she gets it from me," he said with a sheepish grin. "But, so far, I'd say you're accomplishing that."

Karin glanced back up to the window and the girls waved enthusiastically.

He beamed a broad smile. "You know if we open our arms they'll both be down here in a flash."

She grinned. "Let's see." They both turned to the second story window and opened their arms. A moment later the front door burst open and two girls slammed into them. "Oof...group hug," Mark shouted. He turned to Karin already wrapped in little girl arms. "I guess I'm a package deal, sweetheart."

Karin laughed. "I've pretty much have known that from the start."

"Are you interested in an instant family?"

She paused and looked down at the two angelic faces shinning up at her and laughed as she leaned down and kissed both girls on the top of their heads. "Yes, I am."

Copyright © 2015/Winters

# Catching Falling Girls

=ONE=

It was a lovely spring day, especially lovely for Claire Carson, because today she was going on a 'date' with Kevin. At least it was sort of a date in her eyes. A light breeze played with the hem of her dress as she walked across the campus commons heading for his office. They hadn't really set a place to meet so she thought to start looking there first.

As she walked she remembered meeting him several days ago. At first she didn't recognize him, he'd changed so much from the last time she saw him, almost ten years earlier.

She had just gotten off work. It was late and she was in a hurry. Dana Reilly, her boss, had kept her in the office doing stupid stuff, which was really Amanda Dixon's fault in the first place. "That stupid cow," Claire muttered to herself as she pushed open the inner glass entry doors to Trend Magazine's corporate offices. She was an intern just like Claire; she was even hired the same day. But if you asked Amanda, she was the 'Queen of the Nile'. She spent more time making goo-goo eyes at Conner Albertson, the retouch guy in the layout room, than doing anything like real work. Which meant it all fell on Claire's shoulders.

She glanced at her reflection in the glass of the outer door as she adjusted her scarf. Her wavy brunette hair fell in gentle curls past her shoulders to frame a lovely face with a button nose and lips that curved into a naturally bright smile. Her eyes sparkled as they reflected the streetlights from the sidewalk.

She fastened the last button on her coat and pushed the doors open.

Now she was in a huff; her silk scarf fluttered behind her as she walked briskly passed several people on the sidewalk. Up ahead, another man stood staring into a shop window. There was something about him that jiggled a distant memory but she dismissed it. She was in a snit and she didn't have the patience at the moment to dwell on ancient history. She stepped around him and suddenly slipped. Her high heels were clearly no match for the slippery newspapers on the sidewalk and in an instant she was falling towards the street where a city bus headed straight towards her.

From out of nowhere, a hand reached for her and pulled her back from the approaching disaster and she fell backwards, landing awkwardly into someone's arms.

Her rescuer scrambled to stand up quickly and offered her his hand. "I'm so sorry, Miss, hopefully I gave you a softer landing than what that bus had to offer. Here, let me help you up." He held out a hand for Claire as she tried to stand, keeping intact what little dignity she had left.

She looked up and found herself gazing into the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen. "Thank you. I should know better than to run in heels."

She dusted off her coat and then she felt a stabbing pain in her left ankle.

Her rescuer smiled and turned towards the street. "You're welcome. Can I hale a cab for you?"

"Actually, I think I need to sit down somewhere." She leaned against a building. "It feels like I might have twisted something. My left ankle seems kind of tender."

He held her arm to steady her. "There's a little café over here, we can find a booth in there."

"You think it will be alright? Just sitting I mean?"

He put her arm around his shoulder and helped her limp towards the front door of the café. "It'll be fine, I know the owner. The menu is great and everything tastes good, except the coffee, it's mostly tar."

"You obviously come here a lot if you know the owner." She grimaced a little as she tried to favor her left foot.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, my brother John runs the place so it's a family thing. Come on, there's a booth up front."

She hobbled over to the front booth and removed her coat before she sat down. After she slid towards the back wall of the booth, he folded her coat and placed it under her ankle so that her foot was slightly elevated.

"Just sit here and I'll get some ice for that ankle." He walked towards the kitchen, grabbed a clean towel, and wrapped it around a bag of ice. He waved at the cook as he brought the towel back filled with ice. She winced slightly as he laid the makeshift ice pack gently on her ankle. It was more from the anticipation of pain than anything else.

"There's not much evidence of swelling so that's a good thing. I'll bet a few minutes with this and you'll be fine." He stood there with a sheepish grin. "Can I get you a cup of coffee?"

She offered him a subtle smile. "Didn't you just warn me about the coffee here?"

"Ah, you were listening...how about a cup of tea then?"

"Tea would be nice," she sighed. "Herbal, if they have it, would be lovely."

He stepped behind the counter in search of cups and tea packets. It took a few minutes as he filled the mugs with hot water. He looked away and waved at someone in the back of the café so it was the perfect opportunity to study him.

He was cute, very cute, and tall too. She liked the way his hair looked. His blonde locks were a bit shaggy, which meant he probably wasn't some boring business type.

He cleared the end of the counter with two mugs of hot water and a basket of tea packets under his arm. He zigzagged his way past a couple of tables to stand in front of their booth.

"Here," he set the basket on the table. "Your choice, it's on the house."

She selected Chamomile and he took an English Breakfast packet out of the basket. He tore open the tea packets and dropped them into the cups.

He looked down to make sure the tea bags were steeping properly. When he glanced up at her, she smiled sheepishly. She blushed a bit and looked away only to glance back when he became preoccupied with the tea.

He seemed so sincere. How odd it was for her to think that. Let's see. He looked to be maybe twenty-six? He had kind eyes, and the corners seem to crinkle when he smiled. His hands looked soft. She wondered if he had a girlfriend? What a random thought.

He called towards the kitchen. "Hey Ralph, is my brother here?" A tall man with a handkerchief tied over his hair and an unlit cigarette stuffed behind one ear walked towards them from behind the counter and shook his head.

"Would you let him know that I owe him for two cups of tea? Thanks." The man nodded and returned to the kitchen.

"Sorry, here I am out rescuing damsels in distress and I don't even know your name." He stood there grinning as if he knew full well the sweeping wave and modest bow was way over the top.

Oh my God that's so corny, but way too cute. "Ah, it's CC." Well, that was her work name anyway. Only her grandmother and her best friend Taylor called her Claire. CC sounded so much more professional anyway."

"Nice to meet you CC. Where do you work?"

"Right now I'm with Trend Magazine."

He sat down in the booth opposite her and stirred a packet of sugar into his cup. "Wow, the fast-paced world of fashion. I don't envy the pressure. I probably wouldn't last a week. Of course, all the clothes and shoes, that must be amazing."

"Yes, that's what it's all about, the clothes, and the shoes." She lifted her foot above the table. "It's looking better already. Thank you. Can I have the name of my gallant rescuer?"

He chuckled as he reached into his jacket pocket. "Sure." He pulled out a business card but held on to it a moment as he handed it to her and introduced himself.

"Hi, I'm Kevin." He let go of his card and paused a moment, giving her a quizzical look. "You know it's kind of strange, I usually don't speak very well around women. Actually, I hardly speak to them at all. But I feel remarkably comfortable around you. I wonder why?"

Claire shrugged her shoulders. "Perhaps it's the situation. How often do you rescue women from collision with a bus?"

"Never," he replied.

"See."

Kevin smiled and shook his head. "Well, perhaps we can do this again sometime. Without the twisted ankle, of course."

"That would be nice."

Before she put his card away she glanced at it briefly. Her eyes moved across the card in wonder. It read: 'Professor Kevin Davis, Jefferson College, Department of English.' Her mind began racing, as her eyes grew large. Kevin Davis? The boy who hung out at her grandma's house ten years ago with his brother John, Kevin Davis? Images and thoughts sped through her mind. He said his brother's name was John.

She seemed to freeze in place still holding his card and staring off across the café. She suddenly realized that she needed to find her grandmother's photo album.

"Are you okay? Is something wrong?"

"Ah, er...no, I'm okay." She quickly put his card away and tried to recover her composure. "I just remembered I have to do something when I get home that's all. I'm fine now...really, my ankle hardly hurts at all."

"You sure? Because I'd be happy to take you wherever you need to go."

"No, no, I'm fine. My car is parked just across the street. It's been a long day and, well...thank you again for all your help. You're very kind, Kevin. Good night."

As she got up he helped her with her coat.

Kevin smiled brightly as he held the door open for her. "It's nice to have met you CC, if you're ever in the neighborhood stop by for another cup of tea."

"Thanks, I will." She was brimming with excitement as she walked across the street towards her car. The nagging pain in her ankle was the furthest thing from her mind. She needed to be home. She needed time to think. She needed to remember the boy she fell in love with ten years ago.

=TWO=

Kevin scrambled after the fleeing term papers that fell from his arms knowing it was a loosing battle against the wind. "Dammit, I'm such a klutz."

A pair of shapely legs in high heels came into his view as he raced against the wind. "Maybe I can help."

"That would be great," he said scrambling to grab as many term papers as he could. "Because right now I think the wind has got the best of me."

Claire crouched down and helped him gather papers off the ground.

Surprised to see her here of all places, he stopped abruptly. "What are you doing here?"

She grabbed a stack of papers fluttering in the wind and handed them to him. "I thought a stroll through the grounds of academia might be a pleasant diversion on my way to work, besides, I decided it would be nice to see where you taught."

He stacked the term papers together roughly and stuffed them into his satchel. "And? What do you think?"

"Kind of nice, very festive too."

"Oh, that's for the Founders Day celebration. It's tomorrow. Want to come watch?"

"What? The ceremony? Won't it be boring?"

"Of course," he offered her a wide grin. "But there's a nice party afterwards on the chancellor's lawn that you might enjoy."

Claire gathered another stack of stray papers. "Ah, I see how college works, you have to suffer before you can have fun."

Kevin laughed out loud and shook his head. "You've got it! My God, it takes some of my students four years and they still don't understand that. Well done!" He paused a moment. She was remarkably beautiful, way out of his league. Maybe that was why he felt so comfortable around her.

Claire stood there beaming; her hands were overflowing with term papers. "Can I help you take these somewhere?"

"Sure, if you have time. My office is in the next building." As they walked down the sidewalk slowly, he glanced towards her several times. "You look rather stylish for a campus visit."

"I was on my way to work and decided to take the scenic route. My boss expects us to dress fashionably. I guess it's not necessarily appropriate for a campus visit." Across the campus grounds banners and signs fluttered in the wind. "There sure are a lot of people here today. It looks like there are lots of things going on."

"Yep, the Founder's Day celebration is a weekend filled with parties and last minute get-togethers. For some it will be the last time they see one another casually before graduation. Many of them have formed some strong friendships but after graduation everything changes."

She climbed the building stairs behind him. "Sort of bittersweet then; distance and time affects everything doesn't it?"

He walked down the hall then opened his office door and gestured to invite her in. "Yeah, it does." As she passed by he caught the faint aroma of jasmine, it was intoxicating.

"I thought that the office of a college professor would be considerably larger," she offered with a grin.

"You would think so," he said dropping his satchel on his desk. "Actually, Hollywood has a lot to do with that myth. This is considered an average sized office for an assistant professor here at Jefferson. That's why I do so much of my work at home."

After depositing her stack of papers on his desk, Claire looked at the books that lined Kevin's bookshelves. "Wow, Vonnegut, Kierkegaard...and even Joyce! You have quite the collection here."

"I am impressed, not everyone I bring to my office can pronounce Kierkegaard let alone know who he is."

"Hmm, mixing philosophy with twentieth century literature isn't one of my favorite past-times but I've skimmed a few chapters." She continued to browse the book titles then her finger stopped on a book that she didn't expect to see.

"Vivian Desk? You have one of her novels? Interesting."

Kevin stammered a little. "Ah...er...well, yes, you see." That wasn't something he expected her to see.

"No, no, it's okay, she's my favorite author." She thumbed through the book. "I just didn't expect to see it on an English professor's book shelf." She paused as she flipped through several more pages. "Wait, I don't know this title. Is it new?" She turned to him abruptly. "Hey, somebody wrote all over it."

He walked over to stand near her. "It's a galley proof."

"Huh?"

"A galley proof. It's what publishers send back to authors, editors, and sometimes reviewers before the final copies are printed and distributed. Sort of the final draft version sent out for a last look before the ink is dry. That's why there isn't a finished book cover; it's just a generic jacket."

"Oh, very cool." She looked at the book with renewed interest. "You mean this is what it looks like before it's finally printed?"

"Yeah, sort of, without all the scribbles of course."

"So, nobody has this yet? Not even the bookstores?"

"Nope."

"Then how do you have it? Do you know Vivian Desk?"

"Well, let's just say we're good friends. I've edited a couple of her novels early on in her career."

Claire clutched the book to her chest and her eyes sparkled as she turned to Kevin earnestly. "Can I read it? Please?"

"Well..."

"Please, I have every one of her novels. I'm her biggest fan." Claire crushed the book, unwilling to let it go.

"All right, but you can't let anyone else see it; absolutely no one, not even your best friend. Promise?"

Claire squealed. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Kevin touched her arm. "Hey, hey. No squealing. Very frowned upon by my grumpier colleagues."

"Oh, sorry, sorry." She whispered a tiny squeak, "thank you."

He smiled at her exuberance and returned to his desk. "Don't you have to go to work?"

"Oh crap, I forgot. When do I need to get this back to you?"

"A couple of weeks should be okay. I can't imagine you have much time to read while working at Trend. Just get it back to me as soon as you can. I've sent my comments to the publisher already so I really don't need it right now. Oh, there are a bunch of random comments in the margins just ignore them. They're mostly printing notes for the publisher, okay?"

"No problem. Thanks so much." Claire spun around and headed out of his office door. "I'll keep it safe. See you tomorrow. Bye."

And she was gone in a flash leaving Kevin to stand alone in his office wearing a perplexing smile. A hint of jasmine still lingered in the air.

=THREE=

A morning breeze played with her hair as she walked across the campus grounds towards Kevin's office building. In the distance, several rows of seats were temporarily set up in front of a large platform for the Founder's Day celebrations.

Around the commons area, hundreds of students, parents, and guests stood visiting while waiting for the opening ceremonies to begin. She looked around for Kevin but she didn't see him.

Standing on the top step near the building entrance Claire surveyed the commons area looking for him. There was a large group of people gathered around a collection of tables with refreshments. He would probably be over there.

As she crossed the lawn and got closer to the refreshment tables, Claire noticed someone she had not expected to see at Jefferson. Amanda Dixon! Damn it! And she's with some older man. Why is she here?

As Claire got closer she could see that Amanda was acting rather coquettishly towards a third man in the group, but because of the way they were standing she couldn't see who it was.

Finally the man Amanda was talking to turned to greet another couple and Claire realized who it was. Kevin! She's talking to Kevin! How does she know Kevin? The thoughts raced through her mind and panic began to set in. "Stay calm," she murmured to herself. "She has no idea about Kevin and me."

Claire put on her best spring day smile and walked over to where they were standing. "Good morning."

"Oh, there you are." Kevin extracted his arm from Amanda's clutches with a slight grimace then turned to her with a smile. "I'm so glad you could make it today. It will make an otherwise dreary day a lot more fun. Oh, forgive me, let me introduce you to Mr. Randolph Dixon and his daughter, er...ah."

"Amanda." Amanda stepped forward to curl her arm around Kevin's. "We know each other from..."

"Trend magazine," Claire interrupted quickly, "we both work at Trend for Dana Riley."

"Of course you do," said Mr. Dixon, an older gentlemen wearing an ill-fitted suit and an off-color tie. "If I'm not mistaken I think I saw Miss Riley here a few minutes ago. She's a business acquaintance of mine. I should introduce you too her, Mr. Davis, she's an excellent writer just like you."

"Well, I've only managed a single textbook, Mr. Dixon. I can't imagine the pressure of writing and managing a successful magazine like Trend. She must be quite the powerhouse."

Mr. Dixon cleared his throat with a wink. "Oh she is a force to be reckoned with, sir, that's very true, very true." He downed his glass of punch in one large gulp.

Claire forced a smile as she looked at Amanda. "What brings you here?"

"Why Daddy has been a major benefactor of Jefferson College for years." Amanda hugged Kevin's arm; he looked a bit helpless in her grasp. "We never miss a Founder's Day celebration."

Mr. Dixon glanced at his daughter a bit perplexed and Amanda nudged him gently.

"Ah...ah, that's right princess, our family's connection with Jefferson goes back generations." Mr. Dixon added proudly.

Someone announced over a loud speaker that the opening ceremonies were about to commence. They asked if everyone would take their seats.

Mr. Dixon began to move towards the audience area. "Come on princess, let's find our seats."

Amanda tugged gently on Kevin's arm. "Why don't you join us up front Mr. Davis?"

"Thank you but perhaps another time." Kevin graciously detached himself from Amanda's grasp. "I have a seat in the faculty section waiting for me. I invited CC to join me there. I enjoyed meeting you both, Mr. Dixon, Amanda."

"We should get together for coffee sometime, young man." Mr. Dixon replied as his daughter, scowling, pulled him away. "Amanda, don't tug so much." Amanda looked like she just bit into a bitter lemon. Claire's eyes sparkled as she bit her lip to suppress a smile.

Kevin waved them off and then turned to Claire. "You look lovely. Every man here will be jealous."

He gestured towards a front section of seating cordoned off for faculty and staff. She couldn't see Amanda, which was good because she expected that she was going to have to deal with her later and it probably wasn't going to be pretty. Amanda was accustomed to having her way, so being shunned by Kevin was going to make her difficult to be around. She would probably have to make herself scarce around the office for a while. The thought made her smile.

Several speakers shuffled back and forth to the podium until finally all the introductions were made and a lone woman stood quietly before the microphone. Kevin leaned over to whisper in Claire's ear. "That's my grandmother."

Claire was surprised. So that's Virginia Donahue. She wondered what she looked like now. She hadn't seen her since the funeral of Kevin's mother and that was nearly ten years ago.

Virginia Donahue was her grandmother's roommate in college. Claire heard countless stories, each of them more outrageous than the one before. Every one of them describing all the crazy troubles those two girls got into here at Jefferson so many years ago. Virginia Donahue and her grandmother were what they called in her college years, 'a handful'. But, as a war correspondent, Virginia Donahue was more often referred to as a 'spitfire'.

Her stories were published around the world and were often accompanied by her husband's photos. There she stood, a rather diminutive figure that at first glance no one would ever suspect to be such a tenacious person. But Virginia Donahue was, by all accounts, unstoppable when it came to getting to the heart of a story, and Claire was impressed.

She was rarely home, usually off covering some international event with her photographer husband. It was probably why Kevin and John spent so much time at her grandmother's home, especially with their mother working all hours of the day and night.

Kevin leaned over and whispered in her ear. "You'll get to meet Grandmother afterwards at the chancellor's reception. I think you'll like her. She's a very independent woman just like you."

Once again Claire was surprised at Kevin's remark. A sweet smile danced across her lips and she whispered back. "I can't wait."

When Virginia's speech was finally over and the applause died down, Kevin turned to Claire and said, "She's amazing isn't she? Come on, let's go meet 'Grandma Ginny'." He wore a broad grin as he pulled Claire to her feet.

They walked across the lawn towards the reception area. Claire was amazed at how jubilant he was. His euphoria was catching and she could feel his excitement.

"Grandma, I would like you to meet a good friend of mine. CC, this is my grandmother Virginia Donahue."

Claire's mind was a flutter as she reached out and shook Virginia's hand. "So happy to meet you. You have led such a fascinating life."

"I'm glad to meet you as well." Virginia grasped her hand firmly. "And happier still to see such a lovely young lady with my grandson Kevin." Virginia's nose wrinkled and she raised one eyebrow as she pondered Claire's name. "CC, you look very familiar. Have we met somewhere before?"

Panic crossed Claire's face as she realized what was about to happen. Oh God, she was going to figure it out. Not now, not now, oh please, not now. Claire opened her eyes wide in a feeble attempt to stop her from spilling the beans. As Virginia continued to search her memories, Claire tried a subtle shake of her head. It was too soon. It would ruin everything.

But Virginia looked up just as she was about to make the connection and saw Claire's attempts to stop her. She winked at Claire and said, "Oh, I remember now, there was this correspondent for the United Press I met in Tunisia in 1968. You remind me of her."

Claire sighed, her heart still beating rapidly.

Kevin turned to her a bit concerned. "Are you all right CC? You look a bit flustered."

"No, no, I'm fine. Though I think I need to find the ladies room."

"Oh, I do too. May I join you?" Virginia took Claire's hand and steered her away from Kevin. "We won't be a minute, Kevin, can you get us some punch?"

Virginia and Claire walked up the steps of the administration building and followed the signs leading towards the restrooms. Once Kevin was out of sight, Virginia stopped and turned to Claire.

"All right, young lady, do you mind telling me what's going on?" Her eyes twinkled with mischief.

"Thank you, Aunt Virginia, that could have been fatal." Claire sighed as she looked over her shoulder to see if Kevin was anywhere about. "He doesn't know it's me. He thinks I'm this professional model or writer at a fashion magazine in town. He has no idea that I was that awkward kid who he used to hang-out with in Grandma's back yard."

"Why not?"

"Because if he did remember, he'd treat me completely differently." Claire held Virginia's hands and gave them a little squeeze. "Right now he's charming and kind and generous and I utterly adore him. If he finds out who I am now, all he will see is that gawky tom-boy staring up at him with braces and pig-tails."

Claire quickly explained the gist of Kevin's issues with women. How he stutters and stammers whenever he's around a woman, especially a woman he thinks might be attracted to him.

"He's perfectly fine with women who are married or who are not interested in him, but once a girl starts to show any interest, he runs for the hills," Claire lamented.

"Yes, I know. He's been like that since his college years. How did you find out about him?"

"I overheard a conversation he had with John the other day, apparently he has had several relationships that went really sour so he's retreated into his work."

"But what about you? He seems perfectly comfortable around you, even boisterous."

"He mentioned to me when we accidentally met last week that he felt unusually comfortable around me. I tried to dismiss it, but I'm sure he still thinks about it. Besides, he told John that when he met me that I was, in his words, 'so out of his league' that he didn't feel any pressure. He sees me as a woman who he believes is totally not interested in him and therefore not someone he needs to be worried about. And that part sucks...sorry."

"I don't see that. He obviously adores you, I can see it in his eyes and the way he carries himself around you. You affect him a lot more than he lets on."

"The 'this sucks' part, is that he will eventually find out about me and when that happens..."

"Oh. Yes, I see."

"So what should I do?"

"I don't know but we had better get back before he begins to worry and comes looking for us." Virginia took Claire's hand and held it gently. "I can't imagine Kevin finding a nicer girl than you Claire Carson. Come on."

Claire and Virginia walked back towards the reception. Ahead, Kevin was looking desperately about for them. He was cornered near the refreshment table by Amanda, her father, and Dana Riley. Oh God, poor Kevin. Virginia gave her a hand a little squeeze before they walked down the steps that led to the reception and Kevin.

Virginia walked up and touched her grandson's arm. "Sorry for the delay, too much punch I guess."

"Oh, Grandmother, I'd like you to meet Randolph and Amanda Dixon. Mr. Dixon is one of Jefferson's major donors and his daughter Amanda works with CC in fashion." He stepped back a bit and gestured to Dana Riley. "And this is Dana Riley, managing editor of Trend Magazine."

Virginia smiled and shook hands all around. "So nice to meet you all, I hope I didn't bore you to tears with my speech."

Mr. Dixon gulped his punch quickly. "No, no, very impressive. We enjoyed it very much, didn't we pumpkin?"

Dana Riley pumped her hand like a well had just run dry. "So happy to meet someone as accomplished as you, Miss Donahue."

"Grandmother, I need to check on a few things at the office. Will I see you later?"

"Of course, I'll call you." Virginia turned to Claire and winked.

Kevin removed Amanda's hand from the tenacious grip she had of his arm and took Claire's hand. "I'm sorry, Miss Dixon, I need to go now, I hope you had a good time today."

He turned and holding Claire's hand firmly, walked briskly away from the reception leaving a scowling Amanda in his wake. They were half way across the commons before Kevin slowed down to a reasonable pace and Claire could catch her breath.

Kevin turned to look past Claire. "Do you know that Dixon girl very well?" They were both a bit out of breath as they stood on the sidewalk in the middle of the commons.

"Sort of, she works at Trend as an assistant like I do. Why?"

"Because she's a leech." He looked back over his shoulder as if half expecting her to be right behind them. "There's definitely something not right with that girl."

Claire kept her face as stoic as she could, but inside she was jumping up and down yelling, _YES_! Her hand rose up to her face to hide a smirk. "Oh, I see." They turned towards his office and she walked by his side as calmly as she could.

Kevin stopped outside of the building where his office was located. "Do you have plans tonight?"

Her eyes were wide with wonder. "Not really, why?"

"I was hoping you could join my grandmother and me for dinner." He wasn't stammering but she could tell he was nervous. "I-I know you probably don't date and I know this sounds a lot like one, but my grandmother really seemed to like you and I thought maybe..."

"Of course, I'd love to." Claire took his hands and held them tightly. "Your grandmother is the best, I wouldn't miss it."

"Great, can I pick you up?"

Claire thought for a moment. "Ah, no, I probably should just meet you there. Where are we going?"

"I'm not sure yet but if you give me your cellphone number I could text you."

"Sure, let me see your phone." Claire quickly entered her number and pushed send. Once her phone rang she saved Kevin's number in her phonebook then handed Kevin's phone back.

"Okay, text me when you find out when and where."

Claire grabbed Kevin's hands in hers and squeezed them tightly. "Kevin thanks again for today, the reception, and especially meeting your grandmother. It was all just wonderful. Bye."

She turned and, with a twirl of chiffon, was down the sidewalk and gone. Kevin could only stand there and smile the same goofy smile that has been on his face lately whenever Claire was around.

=FOUR=

Claire arrived wearing a midnight blue silk dress that was simply stunning. Her hair fell around her face and tumbled over her shoulders in a caress of curls as she peeked through the curtains that adorned the entry into the restaurant. She looked around for Kevin and Virginia but didn't see them. A hostess greeted her and asked if she had a reservation.

"I'm looking for Virginia Donahue and Kevin Davis, do you know where they are seated?"

"Certainly, please follow me." She followed the hostess, weaving past several tables to a section in the back of the restaurant. As she approached the table she immediately saw Kevin and Virginia. Virginia smiled sweetly but Kevin had more a look of shock and amazement on his face as she walked in, which was just the look she was hoping for.

Kevin stood up immediately and moved to hold a chair for her as she sat down. Claire noticed two empty chairs directly across from her.

"Are you expecting others to join us?" Hopefully not that stupid cow, Amanda.

Claire looked up to see two more guests walking towards their table, John Davis and, she guessed, his wife. Holy Crap!

Virginia leaned over and whispered in Claire's ear. "Don't worry dear, they're on your side." She took Claire's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Claire blinked a couple of times at Virginia then she looked at Kevin as he introduced his brother. "CC, this is my brother John and his wife Elaine." Claire blanched as she turned to them and extended her hand.

"So nice to meet you." Claire felt nervous.

"Likewise." John had a mischievous gleam in his eye

"Lovely to meet you," Elaine replied while John helped her with her chair. "How did you meet Kevin?"

"Ah, slipping on a sidewalk outside your husband's café. Kevin caught me before I got hurt. He was kind enough to offer me a helping hand exactly when I needed it."

John sat down next to Elaine; his eyes began to twinkle at the mention of Kevin catching Claire again. "Yes he does seem to be pretty good at catching falling girls." Elaine pushed her spiked heel into his toes, to which John grimaced in silence.

Kevin glanced at John with a quizzical look but rolled his eyes and returned to his menu. The rest of the meal passed without incident, much to Claire's relief. For her, the conversation was entertaining and the food was delightful. Kevin was, as always, charming, Virginia was graceful, Elaine was sweet, and John was tactful...for once.

Virginia turned to Kevin. "So, Kevin, what have you been doing lately? Any new work?"

"Ah, well, not really." Kevin shifted in his seat nervously. "School work does seem to get in the way of any serious writing."

Claire dabbed her lips and turned to Kevin. "What about that Vivian Desk novel? You must have done something with that because of all your notes."

"Vivian Desk?"

"Yes, tell us about that, Kev?" John's smirk quickly turned into a grimace as Elaine drove her heel into another toe. "Ow!"

Virginia turned to her grandson. "Is something the matter Johnny?"

"No, I think I bit my tongue." John glared at Elaine.

Virginia dabbed her lips with a napkin and turned to Kevin with a smile. "So, what about the Vivian Desk novel?"

"Oh, I just did some proof notes on her latest novel, it was no big deal."

"Kevin you are too modest," Claire interrupted. "Vivian Desk is a very popular author and giving feedback to her editor IS a big deal."

Kevin shrugged and blushed again then he turned to his grandmother. "How long will you be in town, Grandma?"

"Just today, I'm taking the late train back to Boston tonight," Virginia replied.

Kevin set his fork down and turned to his grandmother. "Are you going to visit Aunt Sarah before you leave?"

"I can't Kevin." Virginia sat her cup back on its saucer. "I have to get back for an early doctor's appointment tomorrow so I had to book the late train to Boston tonight. I called her the other day and promised that I'd stay longer next time I'm down."

"Do you need a ride to the train station?"

"Thank you but no," Virginia replied. "I've already booked a cab."

After the dinner Virginia told them that she had to get back to the hotel to pack for the train. John and Elaine both had work in the morning, so they needed to leave as well. There were hugs all around as everyone parted.

John hugged Claire and whispered in her ear, "I'm so glad it's you."

Claire caught her breath but whispered back, "I'm surprised because you were always the one who was so mean to me back then."

"That's how you're supposed to treat a kid sister." He whispered back with a big grin then he snuck a tiny kiss on her cheek.

"Really?" Claire was blushing bright crimson as Kevin adjusted his grandmother's coat. She turned away quickly before he could notice.

"Really what?" asked Kevin.

"Ah nothing, I just invited Clai...ah, CC to a dinner at the café. It'll be on the house."

"Thanks John, but honestly CC, stay away from the coffee."

"Hey, there is nothing wrong with my coffee," John shouted as Elaine tugged him down the sidewalk towards their car.

"Well Grandma, thanks for being part of everything today. Would you like us to walk you to your hotel?"

"No thanks, it's really right across the street. I can find it. You two go on. It's a lovely night for a stroll why don't you both enjoy the evening."

Claire nodded to Kevin. "Okay, I think we will."

"Good night, Grandma."

"Good night Kevin, and CC," Virginia added with a knowing smile, "it was lovely to meet you. I truly hope to see you again real soon. Good night dear."

"Good night, Mrs. Donahue." Claire held Virginia's hands; her eyes were sparkling with excitement as she mouthed the words 'thank you so much.' She stepped back to stand next to Kevin as Virginia crossed the street towards her hotel. "Your grandmother is so cool."

"Yes, she is, isn't she." Kevin was beaming. "You two seemed to really hit it off well today. I'm glad you like her. Do you want to take in a little window shopping before you head home?" Kevin offered his arm to Claire.

"Absolutely." Claire was almost bouncing as she walked by his side.

They strolled along the sidewalk peeking into the windows of shops closed for the evening. A crowd of party goers spilled out near the corner from a local bar making a good deal of noise but it seemed like it was all in good fun. Their party blocked the sidewalk so Kevin and Claire crossed the street and entered a small park.

The green space meandered along the center of the city as a way to break up the monotony of urban density. There were park benches and fountains scattered along the many paths that intersected the park. Near one of the many intersections a cluster of swings and a teeter-totter along with a climbing tower and play fort were crowded under a canopy of trees.

On any given weekend the play area was crowded with the children, but tonight it was quiet. Kevin sat in one of the swings as Claire climbed the steps of the play fort and sat at the top.

"So, do you write anything other than textbooks? Like fiction or something for fun?"

"Well, actually I do write some things just for fun. I mean it started out that way but somewhere along the line I must have gotten pretty good at it because I began to make a little money."

"Really? You mean like Stephen King or JK Rowling kind of money?

"Oh, Lord no, but a lot more than I thought was possible.

"What do you write about? Have I read any of your books?

"Well...promise you won't laugh." Kevin took a big breath and let it out slowly. "I can't believe I'm going to tell you this," he muttered.

"I promise."

"I write romance novels." Claire giggled and Kevin blushed. "Hey you promised!"

"I'm sorry but romance novels? Come on your kidding. I just could never imagine you would be doing that."

"No I'm serious. Think about it, in novels everybody is a prince or a princess. They always say the right thing at the right time and never look like a dork or an idiot...unless you want them to. I usually add a bit of adventure or mystery to mix things up a bit but yes, I write romance novels. I don't know, I guess it was more on a dare from my brother than anything else."

"A dare?"

"Yes, he dared me to do it. He said 'well at least you might learn something about women, if nothing else', I think he was more surprised than I was how successful they've become."

"So why romance novels? Why not adventure or mystery novels?" Because of his apparent gynophobia, Claire almost knew the answer but her curiosity was piqued. She wondered how much he'd be willing to admit.

"Well, like I said, I usually add a bit of adventure and mystery into the work just to keep it fun. But the real reason is that I tend to be a bit shy around people, especially women, and John thought that writing this type of story would get me out of my shell, so to speak. Writing was the goal but the romance novel was just John's way of trying to get my goat. Who would have thought I'd be so successful at it."

"So, has the writing helped?"

"Not really, it did give me something to work on, sort of like therapy I guess. I could immerse myself in the story and, in a way; work out some of my issues. After the first few novels I began to understand the genre and the writing got a bit easier so I sort of stuck with it."

"Hmm, so what you said was true. All genres follow a specific structure. If you know the structure and add your imagination, chances are you'll succeed." Oh crap. She regretted it the moment the words fell out of her mouth.

"What? Where did you hear me say that?" Kevin turned in the swing to face her.

"Ah...well. I sort of snuck into your class the other day. It was really by mistake but it was kind of cool to hear you talk about writing," Claire stammered trying to look innocent.

"Oh, so that was you asking all those questions in the back of the classroom. I was wondering who that was. I figured there had to be something going on."

Claire blushed and grinned sheepishly. "Yup, that was me."

Kevin nodded his head with a smirk. "Well, anyway, what started out on a dare quickly took off. It's sort of funny when you think about it, I'm not much of a romantic but I write romance novels. Go figure."

Claire looked at Kevin and smiled wistfully. Damn. Those girls from your college really did screw you up, didn't they?

"So do you use your own name? Romance is my favorite genre so I've read a book or two. But I don't remember Kevin Davis as an author. Do you write under another name?"

"Sort of."

"So that's why you know Vivian Desk. You two are colleagues; you both write the same type of book. I'd love to meet her. Wait. That means that Vivian Desk is your main competition then isn't she? By the way, I'm part way through that galley you gave me and I love it."

"Thank you. From what you've told me you've already read all of my novels."

"Huh?"

"Here I go again. I can't believe I'm going to tell you this. Promise me that you won't tell anyone what I am about to tell you."

"Okay, I promise...what?" Claire's eyes sparkled with excitement. She was going to share a secret with Kevin. The thought ignited her imagination.

"There are only two people in the world who know this, my publisher and John, which means that Elaine probably knows too because John is a big blabbermouth, so that makes three."

"What, what?" Claire sat on the edge of her seat giddy with anticipation while Kevin hesitated.

"Remember, you promised. You can't tell a soul." He waved his finger in front of her impishly.

"Yes, yes, I promise."

"Vivian Desk is an anagram of Kevin Davis. I write under the name of Vivian Desk."

"Oh my God! You've got to be kidding me! I don't believe it!" For a moment, Claire the model became Claire the schoolgirl as she nearly jumped up and down. She stood there stunned, her mouth agape. "You're Vivian Desk?"

"Shush! That's a secret!" Kevin's blush was growing more crimson. "No one is supposed to know anything about that, even Grandma doesn't know! You can't tell a soul! You promised!"

"Okay, yes, I promise, I won't tell a soul, cross my heart. I never would have guessed that in a million years." She squealed then covered her mouth with her hands.

"Apparently female romance authors are more acceptable to readers then male authors. At least that's what my publisher tells me." Kevin turned and buried his face in his hands. _"_ I can't believe I told you that," he muttered.

"I bet you think I'm some sort of schoolgirl carrying on like this. It's just that...Vivian Desk, oh my God! I have never met a really successful author before. I mean someone who's written books I love to read. I mean, wow. I'm sorry, I'm totally flustered. Did I say that out loud? You must think I'm an idiot."

"Of course not, actually I'm usually the one who says I'm the idiot."

"This is unbelievable! And I can't tell anybody? Oh, this is going to kill me."

Kevin sighed. "Well, you can imagine how that might affect my position at the college if everyone knew that about me. Sorry."

"I understand. You're third book, the one set in Morocco...so romantic, it was wonderful. It's my favorite."

"Thanks, it was one of my favorites too.

"Wow, Morocco. It sounds exotic."

Claire climbed down the steps of the play fort and walked over to sit in a swing next to Kevin.

"I took a trip there during Jefferson's winter break so no one knew what I was doing." Kevin rocked back in forth in the swing glancing sideways at Claire. "Those friends I made over there helped me immensely and I'll never forget them. I try to stay in touch with them from time to time but life and school often get in the way."

"Morocco sounds very romantic," murmured Claire.

"I guess it was, sort of. Of course I was wrapped up in research so it was more of a working trip than anything. I told my friend Hassan that I'd come visit before the fall semester starts. I hope I can make good on that promise."

Claire was lost in thought as she swung back and forth. Kevin Davis was Vivian Desk; she mulled the thought over and over. Rats, she promised to keep silent and she can't even tell her best friend Taylor! She leaned back in the swing and gazed at the night sky through the canopy of trees.

"Too bad the city lights mask any chance for a starry night," she sighed.

"You sound like you're yearning for a trip to the country, CC. Are you frustrated with city life and the fast paced world of fashion?"

"A little," she lamented. "There are times when I just want to wring a few necks over there, but..." Her voice trailed off at the end.

"Hmm, troubles in paradise?"

Claire slumped her shoulders as she sat in the swing. "Oh, not really, just the usual clash of egos, it goes with the territory. I mean I love writing, I think I'm good at it too, of course nothing like what you do but really, it's like I'm just their lackey some times." Claire jumped off the swing impatiently and yelled at the treetops. "And it just really pisses me off." She turned and grinned at Kevin then climbed back up the steps of the play fort to sit on the top deck again.

"I guess I didn't tell you that I'm a writer too. I don't do much...yet. But I want to someday."

"So that's why you were aware of my textbook." Kevin swung around to watch her climb the play fort steps with a wry grin.

"Yep."

The noise from the party at the corner bar filtered through the park trees as Kevin swung back and forth on the swing in silence. Claire sat on the play fort stairs and fiddled with a necklace.

She knew she had to find a way to tell him who she really was. But if the timing was off she was afraid that he might end up hating her and that would be the worst. Suddenly a plan came to mind.

She took a big breath and let it out slowly. "Well Kevin, you seem to be confessing tonight. So I think it's only fair that I should tell you something else about me."

"Yes?"

"I really hope this doesn't change how you think about me."

"I can't imagine anything you would say would make me change my mind about you, CC. So, go ahead."

"Well," she hesitated. "I used to be quite the tomboy when I was young." She pulled herself up and stood on the top deck of the fort. She walked over to lean against the railing and turned towards Kevin.

He chuckled as he stood up from the swing and walked over to stand below her. "Now that's something that I can't imagine at all. You? A tomboy? Come on."

"Absolutely, I used to hang out and rough house with the neighbor kids in my backyard all the time."

"No dolls and tea parties?"

"Only once or twice but it was more like pirates and buccaneers." She struck a pose like a swash-buckling pirate. Then she leaned against the narrow railing.

"There was this tree fort where we used to play. We would climb a rope ladder and swing out as far as we could and then fall back again."

As Claire described the swinging rope she leaned a bit too far out and lost her balance. "Oh crap!" she cried as she fell off the edge. "Yuiii!"

The moment she landed in his arms, Kevin's mind flashed on an image he had long forgotten. It was of a girl in pigtails and braces, falling from a tree fort into his arms.

He looked at her, then up at the tree fort, then back to her.

"Thank you," she said lying in his arms, "you always seem to be there to catch me."

Kevin continued to stare at her in wonder as he looked into her beautiful eyes. "Claire?"

"Hi," she answered, blushing a bit.

He slowly released her and her feet lowered to the ground, but she kept her arms around his neck. His face was still filled with wonder. "It was you."

She shrugged. "It was me."

"It's always been you. Ever since we were kids playing in your grandmother's back yard, it's been you.

Claire eyes sparkled. "Really?"

"Every other girl I've ever met...I always compared them to my memory of you. Each time they always came up wanting. You were always someone I could trust."

Claire stood close to Kevin; she released his neck and placed her hands on his chest to look into his eyes. "Yes. Well, I guess you're brother is right about one thing."

"What? John? Right about something? You must be joking." Kevin added with a laugh.

"Yup. He said you're really pretty good at catching falling girls." Claire leaned up and kissed him on the cheek then smiled sweetly. "I should go." She didn't want to, her heart fluttered as he held her in his arms. She wanted to kiss him and to hug him. Her mind raced through a dozen thoughts, but it was too soon. If she rushed things too quickly she would ruin it. She took a big breath to settle her nerves. "It's getting late and I have to work tomorrow."

"Yeah, so do I." Kevin stepped back; the grin he wore hung off his ears. He took her hand and they walked slowly out of the park in silence; sneaking sideways glances at each other as they continued up the sidewalk towards her car.

The moon was just rising above the treetops. Its dappled light filtered through the branches to leave patterns of light along the narrow brick path as it led to the street. It was magical and Claire found herself in a place she had only dreamt about. Kevin Davis...she took another breath to calm her nerves.

What do I do now? She tried to hold back a sigh; her chest was filled with butterflies. She unlocked the car door with her remote and Kevin opened it for her.

She smiled gently, trying to hide how nervous she was. "This has been a lovely evening." She brought her lips to his and he leaned forward and kissed her. It was a long, delicate kiss that lingered delightfully. She opened her eyes as they parted and gazed into his. "A delightful end to a wonderful day."

He leaned forward and kissed her again, gently. "Can I see you tomorrow?"

"I hope I see you every day for the rest of my life," she murmured, looking into his eyes.

"I hope so, too," he said as she slipped in behind the wheel and he closed her door.

She rolled down the window and smiled sweetly. "Call me?"

He leaned down and grinned. "Count on it."

Copyright © 2012/Winters

# A Second Chance

=ONE=

The water looked cold as Alex stood on a footbridge thirty feet above the rushing river, it's rocky shoals emerging from the white water, cold and grey, the lure of its icy depths inviting. More than once he'd considered stepping off the railing to the momentary embrace of numbing cold oblivion. For some reason, the 19th century builders never envisioned someone plunging to their death from its railings.

Not today. He turned away from the railing. Too many people about; he didn't want to traumatize anyone. Nobody should add more misery to the world.

Alex Turnbolt, tall and lanky, walked his bike to the other side of the river...perhaps another day.

Suddenly, images of a cane rod, slicing through the air and striking his back flashed into his mind. Another attack, and then another followed by the wicked laughter of a vicious woman. That laughter lingered and haunted him, nearly driving him insane.

He mounted his bike and continued down the sidewalk to the office building where he worked, he shook his head trying to purge the thoughts of pain from his mind.

It had been two months since he left her. He loved her once, in college and after. But she had beaten that out of him, forcing him to do humiliating and degrading things.

Now she was out of his life, but not out of his head. He had to concentrate on his work; it was the only solution he could find that would bring him some peace, if only momentarily.

He turned the corner on the sidewalk and paused to look up at the glass monolith. Sunlight glared off the windows on the upper floors above the tree line. His cubicle was on the third floor, amid a sea of others, all of them accountants and bookkeepers, like him. A constant flow of people streamed though the front doors of the building, never a good place to end your life, jumping off a building. Besides the inevitable bounce and splat of a body as it landed on the concrete ten stories below, there was always the chance of hitting someone unexpectantly. He took a big breath and let it out slowly, perhaps a cup of coffee to delay the inevitable.

He rode to the end of the block and parked his bike in a rack across the street from a local bagel shop. The place was crowded, but he stood in line anyway, all he wanted was a coffee. He finally got a cup of his favorite and went over to the condiments stand. He added some cream and then looked around. There wasn't an open table anywhere, even outside.

Kaitlin sat in her usual chair by the front door of the shop. A man walked in looking a little shy and lonely. This isn't the first time she'd seen him, he sort of stood apart from the crowd of usual customers in an awkward way.

He walked to the counter and ordered a cup of coffee and then turned to the condiments counter near her table. He always dumped a lot of cream in his coffee but never any sugar. She wondered about that.

He turned to leave when Kaitlin smiled, hoping he would join her. "You're welcome to join me here." She was curious about a guy who didn't fit into the usual crowd, one who looked a little like an abandoned puppy.

He looked down quizzically. "You sure?"

"Yes." She was dressed for her Saturday morning exercise class wearing comfortable black Yoga pants under a loose t-shirt with brightly colored running shoes.

She nudged the empty chair out with her foot and gestured for him to sit.

"Thanks. I'm Alex by the way," he said, sitting and extending his hand to her.

She shook his hand with a smile. "I'm Kaitlin."

"It's nice to meet you. Thanks for sharing your table."

"Anytime. You looked a little bewildered standing there."

"I often do, it's my nature on Saturdays when I have to work," he said, and then glanced at his watch. He took a sip of his coffee and grimaced.

"Too hot?"

"Nah, too bitter." He stood up and dumped another couple of ounces of cream in his cup and took another sip. "That's better." He sat back down and grinned sheepishly.

She tilted her head slightly. "You have to work today?"

"Every other week I draw the 'Saturday short straw', so-to-speak," he replied with a shrug.

She sat her cup down. "What do you do?"

"I'm an accountant. I work in an office, just down the street. I'm just one of the staff employees, nothing special."

"Oh, do you do business taxes?"

"When I get the chance, which hasn't been all that often lately."

"How come?"

He furrowed his brow. "It's, well...it's, complicated."

She paused a moment and then she reached into her purse and pulled out a business card. "This is my store on 18th and Polson Street. I know it's not tax time yet, but I could always use extra advice, especially with organization. I can't pay much, but I'll do what I can. I'm afraid it's quite a mess." She handed the card to Alex. "Call me if you have time to drop by and lend a hand, I'd appreciate it."

"Sure." He glanced at his watch again. "Crap, I have to go, thanks again."

She offered a cheerful wave and he was out the door.

He moved her card into his shirt pocket. Maybe he'd call her. She was quite beautiful for what little makeup she wore. Her auburn hair framed a lovely face with high cheekbones and arched eyebrows that accented an amazing pair of lavender-violet eyes. She seemed nice and after the violence of his ex-girlfriend, he needed nice right now.

The office was quiet for a Saturday; not that it was ever boisterous, but with less people around the usual banter of comings and goings, was diminished. Alex pulled the card out again.

Now that Ashley was out of his life, maybe he could find the time to help Kaitlin. Besides, meeting an organizational challenge would help take his mind off things. He read the card: 'Antiques and Lace: A Vintage Boutique'. He stuffed the card back into his shirt pocket. Perhaps he'd think about calling her sometime.

It was Thursday afternoon, after he got off work, before Alex worked up the nerve to visit Kaitlin's shop. He called her yesterday and said he was available to come by today. A tiny bell on a spring announced his arrival as he stood at the front of the store, surveying the place.

It was a combination antique store, old-fashioned jewelry store, and vintage clothing store all rolled into one. In the front several glass counters displayed antique jewelry. Some of it looked like it was costume jewelry, but old, noting he'd seen in contemporary stores.

Behind the counters were racks and racks of clothing, most of the things seemed like they were taken right out of his grandmother's closet; well, maybe his great aunt's closet, she was a lot wealthier. All kinds of lace and ruffles, blouses, lingerie, and accessories were on display. This was definitely a ladies antique shop, not a top hat to be seen anywhere.

There was shelving on one wall filled with shoes, some vintage and some new; there were boots, flats, and stiletto heels; even button up Victorian knock-offs. He ran his hand along the fabric as he worked his way towards the back; it was such a sensuous sensation.

Near the back she had several pieces of furniture, dressing tables and wardrobes, popular at the turn of the last century. It was quite an eclectic collection.

Kaitlin stood waiting for him at the end of one row. She waved at him. "I'm glad you remembered and called. Thank you."

He followed her as she moved through another door and into her office. She pulled up several large paper sacks filled with notes, scribbles, and receipts.

"Here, this is the mess I'm in. If you want, you can use my desk." She gestured towards a desk and chair and then dashed out of her office when she heard the tinkling of the doorbell.

He sat down and within minutes it was obvious that he had chaos on his hands. She was right when she mentioned organization; it was a nightmare, notes that weren't attached to receipts, scribbles describing measurements or phone numbers to call. He was at a loss.

A few minutes later, she walked back into her office to check on him and as she looked over his shoulder she touched his back. He jumped at her touch.

"Oh my, I'm so sorry," she said pulling back. "Are you hurt?"

"What?"

"You jumped when I touched your back."

"Oh, eh, well...I have a few tender spots, you must have touched one."

"I'm sorry." She tilted her head with a smile. "So, can you figure it out?"

"What?"

"The receipts."

"Oh, yes, um...it appears that everything is a total mess."

She looked concerned. "I know. Can you help?"

"I can but..." He shrugged his shoulders and smiled at her meekly. "I'll need more time than a few minutes in your office."

"Perhaps we could stay after I close my shop, maybe a glass of wine would help?"

He hesitated; if she continued to be close, she might discover what he wanted to keep from everyone.

"Please," she pleaded, "the whole thing is my mess in the first place, at least let me help fix it."

He took a big breath and let it out slowly. What she was asking was troubling, still, the pile of notes and scribbles in front of him were going to take weeks to rectify if he only had a few minutes each night. She would be a big help, especially with his limited understanding of how her business worked; and the receipts were in total disarray. Maybe if he arranged a basic rule about touching.

He nodded his head. "Okay. We'll start tomorrow night. Say around six, after I get off work?"

"Fantastic." She moved to hug him but then she hesitated and extended her hand. He shook her hand then she smiled meekly and walked to her office door. "I really do appreciate this, Alex, thanks."

He nodded as he swept the notes and receipts back into a paper sack. He gathered the other sacks and placed them on a nearby shelf. It was going to be a long couple of nights but she seemed like a nice person and regardless of what she was going to pay him, he wanted to do this for her. Besides, this wasn't taxes, it was just organization.

Just before six o'clock the following evening the tiny bell on her shop door rang. As he walked back through the store he found her sorting through the day's receipts on the back counter.

"Thank you so much Alex, this means a lot to me. I was basically abandoned six months ago. My business partner left everything in total disarray. She was the organizer; I was the buyer." She shrugged her shoulders and spread her arms wide. "So now it's all just me."

He nodded and led the way to her office then paused as he turned to her. "I need to establish a simple rule Kaitlin, I sort of have a few sensitive places on my back and I really don't want anyone to touch them, okay?"

"Of course, I'm sorry about yesterday, it won't happen again. Is there anything else?"

"No, that's pretty much it." He moved to sit at the same desk and chair as before.

"How about a glass of wine?"

"Just water would be fine," he said as she turned to step into a small kitchen nearby.

She filled a glass with water then turned off the tap. Sensitive areas, huh? Maybe it was a birthmark; some people are oversensitive about those things. She shrugged and poured a glass of white wine for herself.

She thought about him for a moment. He was tall and lanky, attractive in an offbeat sort of way; she couldn't put her finger on it. She liked him though, if first impressions counted for anything. She'd seen him in the bagel shop several times before, always quiet and soft spoken, perhaps that was an attempt to be unassuming, to blend into the background. He had that look in his eyes, sort of vacant and lost. Someone who's been there knows the look. It was as if he'd tried to off himself a couple of times, but failed. There weren't any scars on his wrists but that wasn't the only way to end it all.

There was a small moustache under his nose; it looked like it was an afterthought, an attempt to change or renew himself...perhaps. She shrugged and shook her head to clear her thoughts. He seemed to promote all sorts of odd ideas, just by being close.

She walked back in and handed him a glass of water and sat down on another chair to watch him organize everything. Soon, catching on to his organizational style she began to help. He separated the notes from the actual sales slips and handed them to her to sort. "Thanks."

Beyond that, little conversation passed between them as they set about the task of sorting through her receipts and notes. They worked for several hours. She sorted the general notes while leaving the receipts to him. She proved to be very helpful in deciphering her notes and the little scribbles that he placed in her pile.

After a while everything began to fall into a pattern; reminders to return calls by her former partner, which were ignored; notes on a clients' sizes which were filed for future reference, and sales notes that augmented the actual receipts.

They finished one bag and Kaitlin watched Alex stretch, trying to ease a few kinks. At the bottom of his shirt several scars that lashed across his rib cage, were exposed. They were mean and angry looking...definitely not birthmarks.

She was staring at him as he looked up. He yanked at his shirt to conceal the scars. His face burnt bright red. "Don't tell anyone, Kaitlin, promise me." He pleaded.

"I won't, I promise. But Alex, how did you get them?"

"Kaitlin..." He lowered his head. "Perhaps I should go. It's been a long day and... "

"Alex," she interrupted. "Those scars...did I touch one of them yesterday?"

He nodded.

"My God, I'm so sorry. Were you in the war?"

"No. Just forget about it...please." He stood up. "I really need to go," he said softly as he turned to leave.

"Alex..."

He bolted out of her office as she sat there perplexed.

The tiny bell on the front door told her he'd left.

His reaction was so unexpected. The scars were red and angry looking. If he wasn't in a war then how did it happen? If someone did that to him how would he let that happen? Why would he stand for it? Kaitlin shook her head; too many questions and no answers.

=TWO=

A week went by and Kaitlin didn't see or hear from him. She texted several times but he never responded. Maybe he'd call her tomorrow. Except for an occasional sales call, her phone remained silent.

It was another Saturday, a few weeks after that and Kaitlin sat in the same chair by the condiments counter hoping, as always, he would come into the store. In her mind it wasn't an ambush, she was worried about him and wanted to help in any way she could. She just didn't know how else to contact him. She remembered that he worked at an accounting firm somewhere but she never knew the name.

It was nearly nine o'clock; if he were coming he would have been there by now. She shrugged her shoulders with a sigh and stood up. Then her cellphone chimed, she had a text message.

It was from Alex and it read: _I'm sorry, Kaitlin. I just can't explain the scars right now. It's too soon._

She sat back down and replied. _I completely understand, please believe me, I really do. I just want to see you. I'm worried._

Minutes passed and then another chime: _Meet me on the footbridge over the North River._

She replied immediately: _I know it. I'll be there in five minutes._

She raced out of the store and down the block. The bridge he mentioned, an ironwork footbridge built at the end of the 19th century wasn't far; she hoped she would be there in time. She dreaded what it all meant. That place held memories for her, dark ones. She turned a corner and kept running.

Alex stood at the apex of the bridge, the water beneath him was cold and in a weird way, inviting. The jagged rocks that peeked above the white water rushing beneath the bridge looked menacing. Perhaps, now that he was alone.

"Did you invite me here...to be your witness?"

He turned abruptly to the foot of the bridge. Kaitlin stood like before, in running shoes, yoga pants, and a tank top. She was bent over, trying to catch her breath.

He frowned at her. "How do you know what I'm going to do?"

She stood up slowly and leaned against the railing holding his gaze. "Because a year ago," she panted, "I stood in that same spot...with the same thoughts."

She held out her hand and beckoned him to join her.

He turned one more time to gaze at the cold river then walked slowly off the bridge.

"There's a bench over there," she said, gasping a little. "Would you join me? I have a story to tell you." He followed her off the bridge.

She sat down and patted a place next to her inviting him to sit.

He turned to her a bit curious. "You said you've stood there before with the same intent? What changed your mind?"

She smiled as if remembering the moment. "I heard a voice asking me if what I thought about doing would really solve anything? I turned to a woman standing where I stood earlier. She had wiry grey hair and her hands were on her hips while a cigarette dangled from her lips. I thought she was some sort of bag-lady looking for loose change," Kaitlin chuckled as she shook her head.

Alex pulled his knees up, wrapped his arms around them, and rested his head, still listening.

"I was hurt. I was in the darkest of places and I was angry at the world for letting someone like my asshole ex-boyfriend exist. I wasn't a nice person to be around."

"The woman coughed and blew another big puff of smoke. She turned around and told me to follow her. I don't know to this day why I did that, but I found myself sitting next to her on this very park bench staring out at an unjust world, as I saw it."

Alex sat quietly and listened.

"She asked me if my parents knew? I said they had both passed; I was adopted later in their life. Brothers or sisters? None, I answered. Then she turned to me with a stern expression and said, well your ex sure as hell doesn't know or even care one way or the other, does he?"

Alex snorted, he settled his head against his knees.

"I shook my head and sunk even further into my depression."

"She blew out another puff of smoke and said, so if it doesn't matter to anyone who might care, then you're free to do whatever you want, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I said, I guess."

"She cackled and said, then why not live just to spite them all? And I snorted a bit at the irony."

"We talked a long time. I found out, much to my surprise, that she was a trained counselor. She told me she was out picking up trash in the park as part of her community service for hitting a guy in a bar, a month ago.

"The snake had it coming, she scoffed, he was tormenting one of my friends and I lost my temper. Not a good thing to do for a counselor but I'm human after all. I decked him out cold with one punch but his buddies started to rough up my friends and me, so the bartender called the cops. I ended up with one hundred hours of community service she added with a grin and a shrug. I guess it could have been worse."

"Then she asked me to tell her my story."

Alex turned his head to her. She stared off across the park at nothing in particular as she told him what happened to bring her to the same place.

"I was young and foolish, isn't that always the case? I believed in Cinderella and fairy tales and dreams that could come true if you only wished hard enough. I was in college and I met someone. He wasn't Prince Charming yet he was nice, at least at first. But I was careless and naïve and I got pregnant."

"He wanted me to get an abortion, but he didn't want to pay much for it. He arranged for me to go to this doctor he'd heard of. I didn't want to go, but he insisted. He said he didn't want his parents to know. That he would be cut off and forced to leave school."

"I was reluctant but I trusted him so I went along with it. He drove me to this place that looked dark and abandoned. It was an old storefront in a bad part of town. When we knocked, a fat woman in a dirty white coat opened the door and let me in, pushing my boyfriend outside. She muttered girls only and slammed the door shut. I found out later the bastard was sleeping with a friend of mine all along and that's the whore he ran back to."

Alex scoffed and shook his head, and then he laid it back on the cradle of his knees.

"Anyway, I was led to a room with a ragged couch and a man emerged from another room with a long wire like device. I screamed and bolted through a door that led out into an alley. It was raining now, really hard, and the alley was lined with trash and beat up cans of garbage. I stumbled at first then two pair of hands grabbed at me. The two men murmured to me, running their hands across my hair and my butt. 'Are you lost, baby? We can help you, baby. They repeated their murmurs."

"I screamed again but they put their greasy hands over my mouth to stifle me and then they tried to pull me back into a corner of the alley. I kicked and bit and scratched until they lost their grip on me in the rain. I ran as fast as I could down the alley, then I tripped and fell...hard."

She turned to Alex, her eyes glistening with tears. "That's when I began to hemorrhage."

"When I woke up I was in a hospital bed. A nurse notified the doctor and he came into the room along with an old Chinese couple I didn't know. He told me I'd miscarried and that I lost a lot of blood, along with the baby. The Chinese couple found me on their back door; I must have fallen against it. Apparently, they ran a small bakery at the end of the alley and heard me scream and fall. They called 911."

"I thanked them and promised to visit them once I got out of the hospital. From there it was a downward spiral. I dropped out of school and started drifting."

Alex lifted his head and turned to her. "Drugs?"

"No, that costs money and I had none. That's why I ended up there on that footbridge staring at the cold water below. Suicide is cheap, Alex, it costs nothing but your life."

He nodded solemnly and rested his chin back on his knees.

"That's when Kathy, that's the bag-lady's name, called out to me. She told me that since I had nothing better to do but jump off a bridge, I might as well give her a hand for a month or two on her ranch."

Alex snorted. "A ranch?"

"Yeah, I thought so too, until I got there. It was me and Kathy and a couple of other girls to handle most of the chores. There were horses and chickens to feed, eggs to gather, free-range of course, and a barn to clean. She was even hoping to pick up a couple of pigs in the fall."

"There was no Wi-Fi, no TV, and only one phone in the hallway outside of the kitchen, but who was I going to call?"

She shrugged. "So of course I rebelled. She said it was my choice. I spent several days and nights in my bunk just stewing until I got so bored I decided to help."

"My first job was to find all the chicken eggs the little buggers hid all around the place. It took me the better part of the day and I only missed three."

"After dinner when the chores were done, Kathy and I would talk. I found out that the other women were mostly like me, sort of broken, but they decided to stay on and help out for a while. One of the women was still going through some serious shit, she had nightmares sometimes and it was scary."

"Well, to make a long story shorter, my watershed moment was late in the summer, I was mucking out one of the stalls in the barn. Yeah, me, heaving piles of horse-shit into a wheelbarrow and hauling it to a compost pile." She shook her head and laughed.

"I slipped and fell, landing in the middle of a huge pile of shit, I was covered from head to toe and straw was sticking out of my hair. I was a total mess.

Suddenly, I just started laughing; I was lying there covered in crap and laughing my ass off. When I stood up Kathy took a hose and drenched me. Damn, that well water was cold! She said, you are not bringing that smelly crap into my house, darling, now wash up."

"I was still laughing, if anything even harder, snot was running out of my nose. I know, not a pretty picture, but it was."

I realized at that moment that a shower would wash it all away. All the shit in the world would just wash away...the baby, my ex, the miscarriage, all of it, down the drain. And I would be clean again."

She closed her eyes, took a big breath to let it out slowly, and leaned back against the bench.

Alex turned to her and laid the side of his head on his knees. "You've never told anyone else but Kathy this story, have you?"

She kept her eyes closed and gently shook her head, smiling. "Nope."

They sat quietly on the bench next to each other for some time, joggers passed them by, women pushing baby strollers, and little kids running for a swing set. It was peaceful.

Alex raised his head and turned to her. "I still can't tell you my story, not yet, anyway. It's too soon."

Kaitlin smiled. "I know, I just wanted to share with you, that's all. You'll tell me when it's time, I can wait."

Alex stood up and looked off across the park. "It may take a while, the scars are pretty deep."

"I'm patient."

He walked away from the footbridge and from the bench where Kaitlin sat. He crossed the park silently, a lone figure in a wash of people.

=THREE=

Kaitlin made a habit of getting a cup of coffee from the same place every Saturday in hopes of running into Alex. On the third Saturday, a beautiful spring day just right for shopping, her nose was buried deep in the classified section of the local newspaper. She was scouring the page for estate sales to shop at later in the afternoon when someone tapped her shoulder.

She turned to Alex who was bent down and peering over her shoulder. "Anything interesting?"

She turned back to the paper with a smile. "A few, they're holding an estate auction this afternoon at one. Its on Maple Avenue, the ritzy section, and it looks like a large one, too."

"Are you going?"

"I might," she said. "It depends on you."

He stood up grinning. "How about I join you? I've never been to an estate auction, it sounds interesting."

"Really? I'd like that a lot," she added with a broad smile.

He stepped back and held the door open for her. "We might have a chance to talk before then, too."

Kaitlin nodded, the day was looking brighter and brighter. She gathered her purse and her coffee and followed him out the door.

"Can you drive? My bicycle seems to be only built for one."

"Of course," she said grinning and searching in her purse for her car keys. "Don't you have a car?"

Alex followed her across the street. "I haven't felt the need until recently, perhaps you can help me look for one next weekend."

She stopped and turned to him. "What happened to make you change your mind?"

He shrugged his shoulders and muttered. "Life."

Kaitlin nodded and used her remote to unlock her car. Alex opened the passenger door and got in while she slipped in behind the wheel.

She started her car and pulled out into traffic. It was almost eleven-thirty so perhaps lunch would be in order, but in a quiet place with an outside area and nothing claustrophobic. Alex sat silently as Kaitlin drove down the street; houses and cars flashed by his window.

She pulled into an old-fashioned burger place, the waitresses there still wore roller-skates and served you in your car. "Hungry?"

He nodded as they both looked at the menu. "I'll have a plain burger with mustard and ketchup."

"No fries?"

"Nope, just the burger."

She reached over and pressed a button. A moment later, after a squawk and a screech, a cute voice asked them for their order. Kaitlin placed it and then turned to Alex.

They sat in an awkward silence waiting for their meal. It wasn't too long and a girl on roller skates arrived with a tray. Kaitlin took the bag off the tray and handed it to Alex then she opened her purse to find her wallet.

"Let me," he said reaching for his wallet.

She put her hand on his arm and shook her head. "My treat."

Once the waitress was gone she turned to Alex. He smiled bleakly then sighed. "It all started in college. Ashley, my ex, was someone I met in my senior year. I was always shy around women and maybe she picked up on that. I was sort of skinny and awkward; kind of an Ichabod Crane without being so ugly."

She covered her mouth to hide a smirk.

He turned to her with a half smile. "Anyway, we started dating. One thing led to another and within a month we had moved in together, which was her idea. She was always kind of bossy, but I didn't mind as long as I had a cute girlfriend, I suppose."

Kaitlin started the car and pulled out of the burger place. She turned left and drove down the street, listening.

"Then Ashley met Betsy, another girl from school and a bit of a 'Goth'. Betsy seemed to have some sort of influence over Ashley; at least she listened to what Betsy told her."

"Suddenly, I needed 'training' as she put it. She slowly began to add things to my wardrobe, things to humiliate me. Needless to say I was totally embarrassed but as long as I could keep it private, I thought, what the heck. I believed that I still loved her and she loved me. As far as I was concerned, that was all that truly mattered."

"I got a job as an accountant after I graduated and I thought maybe things would quiet down." He shook his head with a bleak smile.

She flipped her turn signal on, coming up to a stop sign. "Why didn't you just leave?"

"I should have but I was timid. I still hoped that we could be together, that we could work it out. My own Cinderella dream I suppose."

Kaitlin smiled at the remark. She turned another corner and drove down the street.

"I tried to reason with her," Alex continued. "But it was of no use; Betsy's influence was iron-clad." Alex began to fiddle with some loose strings on the bottom of his jeans

"After a while, she began to escalate things to the point where she was demeaning me with all sorts of threats. She was really out of control; she started beating me, using a cane mostly, even if I did what she asked. I can still hear the 'whoosh' that thing made before it struck me."

"Finally, I was kneeling on the floor; my back was bleeding from countless strikes. She hissed at me that I was worthless as a man and that she'd had enough. I stood up and walked out. But the scars remained."

Kaitlin came to a stop at an intersection and stared out the windshield. After a few minutes another car behind her beeped its horn. She took a big breath and let it out slowly. Her cheeks were damp and she wiped them with the back of her hand. She turned the corner and pulled into a shopping center parking lot.

Alex turned to her, his eyes full of sadness. "And that was the last I saw of her."

"Do you want to talk to Kathy?"

He shook his head slowly. "No, not yet, I barely worked up the courage to talk to you."

Kaitlin nodded; too soon perhaps. He'd bolt if she pushed.

They finished their lunch in silence. What could be said to ease the burden of such pain.

She paused a moment, smiling bleakly. "So, do you still want to go to the estate sale?"

He nodded. She started her car and drove out of the parking lot in the direction of Maple Avenue, the ritzy part.

Alex peeked into a wardrobe clustered behind several other pieces of furniture. He turned to Kaitlin with a smile. "What do you think of this piece? The door hinge is a bit lose but the finish still looks to be in good shape."

Kaitlin wove around several boxes of assorted lamps and lampshades to examine the wardrobe closer. "It's not bad, a coat of wax and a buff and it might make a good addition to store. I'll see what others bid on it, I can't spend a fortune."

Alex nodded and moved on. Kaitlin was surprised at how excited he was. "Keep this up you'll become my new buyer in addition to my accountant."

He grinned and waved as he rooted through a box of glass containers.

The auction proved to be productive, even if she was out bid on the wardrobe. Alex helped her carry the boxes of her 'treasures' back to her car.

"The real find was those cotillion dresses, they were spectacular," she said grinning as if she'd won first place in the county fair.

That night, sitting around a table near Kaitlin's desk they sorted the final bag of receipts. It all took time, but with sharing their stories in the quiet time after the store was closed, the atmosphere in her little office somehow seemed lighter. Their evenings were filled with wine and wit, and they continued to find things they shared in common including, most surprisingly for Kaitlin, a Shakespearean sonnet.

During a break, Kaitlin leaned back in her chair and lifted her glass of wine, swirling it twice before taking a sip.

"Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments." she began. "Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove: O no! It is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken; it is the star to every wandering bark, whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken."

She leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. "Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks within his bending sickle's compass come: love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, but bears it out even to the edge of doom." She paused to finish the last of her wine. "If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved."

Alex grinned as his eyes sparkled with anticipation. Then he leaned forward to rest his hands on the table filled with receipts and notes to quote his favorite sonnet:

"When my love swears that she is made of truth, I do believe her, though I know she lies, that she might think me some untutor'd youth, unlearned in the world's false subtleties." He grabbed his wine and chugged it with a grin.

"Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, although she knows my days are past the best, simply I credit her false-speaking tongue: on both sides thus is simple truth suppress'd. But wherefore says she not she is unjust? And wherefore say not I that I am old? O, love's best habit is in seeming trust, and age in love loves not to have years told: therefore I lie with her and she with me, and in our faults by lies we flattered be."

She laughed and clapped her hands. "I love that one, too. I've read it many times; where trust surpasses truth! And here I was expecting to be compared to a summer's day," she said with a mischievous smile.

He smiled. "Perhaps tomorrow, I still have to memorize it."

"What a surprise to find a lover of sonnets AND an accountant!"

He stretched and glanced at his watch. "It's getting late and I have an early meeting that I can't get out of."

"I think we're done here," she said surveying the ordered piles of receipts placed neatly on the desk. She reached across and took his hands in hers. "Alex, I...thank you, for everything, and especially for listening."

"You too. I really needed to tell someone and I'm glad you were patient with me. Thank you, Kaitlin...really." He stood up and gathered his jacket off the back of the chair.

"You know, I could use your help this weekend. There are at least three more estate auctions on Saturday," she said, offering him an impish smile.

"Don't forget you promised to help me shop for a car this weekend," he said.

"Please," she pleaded with her hands together in prayer. "Can we go on Sunday instead?"

He grinned and nodded. "Text me when and where for Saturday. It'll give me an excuse not to go into work that day." He turned to walk out of her office.

She stood up and bit her lower lip then took a big breath and let it out quickly. "Would you like to meet Kathy?"

He paused at the door and bowed his head then he turned slowly. "I suppose it's time."

"Should I call her?"

He nodded slowly then turned and left.

That night, as Kaitlin lay awake in her bed, her cellphone chimed. She leaned over grumbling that she forgotten to turn off the stupid ringer. She swiped the screen and surprisingly, it was a text message from Alex.

I guess I have the jitters. I know you didn't spring that on me, I've been expecting you to ask that question for a month now. Still the thought of talking to a stranger is daunting.

She paused a moment before replying. _I haven't called her yet. You can wait until you're ready._

Her phone chimed again. _I know, but it's inevitable. I can't climb the mountain if I don't get over a few hills along the way._

She smiled. It was nice to be needed by someone again, if only as glowing letters in the dark. _Goodnight, Alex._

Goodnight, Kaitlin.

=FOUR=

Wednesday morning of the following week, Kaitlin stood up slowly as Alex walked into the bagel shop. She turned to Kathy as Alex approached the sales counter and ordered a cup of coffee to go. "He'll be here in a minute, he's fragile so don't beat him up too much."

Kathy smiled and nodded her head. "Thanks. Remember, after the introductions you have to leave, got it?"

Kaitlin smiled at Kathy as Alex walked to the condiments counter and added an ounce or two of cream to his coffee. He turned to Kaitlin then to her guest.

"Alex, this is Kathy Munson, the woman I met last year in the river park."

"Alex Turnbolt, nice to meet you." Alex extended his hand and shook Kathy's. Kaitlin gestured for him to sit down and join them.

"Hello," Kathy said. "Kaitlin has told me very little about you so I hope we get a chance to talk at greater length. Do you have to work today?"

Alex shook his head. "No, I took the day off knowing that I was going to meet with you. I hope you don't mind."

Kathy smiled and shook her head. "Not at all, perhaps we can go somewhere quieter to talk?"

Kaitlin took that as her cue to leave and stood up. "Sorry guys, I have several appointments I can't miss. Can I catch up with you all later?"

Kathy nodded. "Sure." And Alex gestured to his cellphone looking a bit apprehensive.

Kaitlin walked briskly out the door.

A moment later Alex's phone chirped. It was a text message from Kaitlin. _Little hills, remember?_ He smiled and put his phone away.

"She's a good friend, isn't she?"

Alex nodded. "The best." He hadn't realized until that very moment how important Kaitlin had become in his life.

"Let's take a walk." Kathy stood up and gestured toward the door. "I saw a path that meanders away from the street across the way. Would you like to join me?"

Alex picked up his coffee and followed her out. They were quiet for several minutes as they walked along the jogging path. It quickly left the noise of the street behind them and wandered deeper into the grove of trees that surrounded a small park.

"Kaitlin told me that you're an accountant, is that correct?"

Alex nodded.

"Are you a CPA?"

"Not yet, I haven't decided to pursue it and even if I did, it would be a couple of years of hard study before I would be ready." He wasn't sure he would ever be ready, but that left an empty hole next to the others, including the one created by Ashley, the slowest to heal.

Kathy opened her purse and took out a pack of cigarettes. "Did Kaitlin tell you about me?"

"Not much, although she did mention something about community service, did you finish it?"

Kathy chuckled then nodded, lighting her cigarette. "Yeah, I'm now highly regarded in the park sanitation department." She laughed as she blew out a huge puff of smoke.

It seemed odd to Alex but he never really paid much attention to this park before. He'd heard that it was a common lunch area for many of his colleagues on nice days but, for some reason, he never visited here. Nestled in the middle of all of it was a beautiful Japanese garden, a gift from a sister city in Japan. It was a far cry from the hustle and bustle of the city that surrounded it.

Kathy led them over to a bench that overlooked a small coy pond and a delicate stone footbridge. It was unusual for him to use the words delicate and stone in the same thought but there was no other words to describe the narrow footbridge.

They sat and watched the fish swim in endless circles waiting for something to happen that would change their lives.

"So many people are a lot like those fish in that pond," she said, taking another pull on her cigarette. "They swim in circles waiting for something to happen; hoping that they will be the first to snatch that tiny morsel before another."

Alex sighed. "In a way, I'm one of them," he said quietly. "After I walked out on my ex I started treading water unable to make a decision for myself; it had been so long since I did that I'd forgotten what it took to just live my life."

Kathy slipped another cigarette between her lips and lit it with the coal of the first one. "What happened?" She exhaled a puff of smoke.

He shrugged his shoulders and sighed. "I was led to believe that I was a worthless person, incapable of making a single decision for myself. When I rebelled, I was punished. Even when I complied I was punished. It became a downward spiral into degradation and humiliation. Eventually, I left, but not before I was beaten nearly senseless. Kaitlin saw the marks I wanted to keep hidden." He glanced at her as she exhaled another puff of smoke. "I got careless."

Kathy nodded. She paused and watched the fish continue to swim in circles. Suddenly, a turtle popped his head out of the water. It made her smile. "How did it start?"

Alex spent the next ten minutes relating the same story about Ashley he told Kaitlin. He spoke of the sound the cane made as it whipped through the air, his desperate desire to work things out, and his attempts to reason with his ex-girlfriend. Finally, in a very soft voice, he spoke of the beatings and his sense of guilt.

Kathy sat quietly and watched a turtle bob around in the pond, disturbing the swimming patterns of the fish. "People can be so cruel to one another," she muttered. "Well, hell. So the solution was to off yourself?" She blew out another big puff of smoke.

"I suppose so, at least it was until I met Kaitlin."

That brought a grin to Kathy's face. "You should have seen that silly girl, laughing her ass off and covered in shit, standing in my barn. She scrubbed for hours to get rid of that smell."

Alex smiled, remembering Kaitlin's story.

Kathy turned to him. "What do you want to do now?"

"I don't know."

She turned and gestured to the little pond beneath the stone footbridge. "Well, you can be a fish or you can be a turtle."

He turned to her, confused and unsure of her metaphor.

Kathy shrugged her shoulders and blew out another large puff of smoke. "You can be a fish and swim in circles for the rest of your life, one step away from oblivion. Or you can be a turtle and chart your own course. One choice needs no sense of responsibility, the other demands a lot. You pick."

Alex sat silent for a long time. Several joggers passed by the bench and disappeared around the bend in the path.

"I expected a question somewhat like this, I just didn't think I'd be compared to a fish or a turtle."

"Well, I have to work with what I got," she grinned, a cigarette clinched between her teeth as she gestured wide. "It's a gift."

"In that case, I guess I'd rather be the turtle than the fish."

Kathy nodded and snuffed out her cigarette on the ground. "How are you at work? Will they miss you?"

Alex shrugged. "Perhaps, but I've taken so many sick days these last six months that they've moved me to part-time. Even said, I'm not sure I would want to go back, I felt like I was drowning in there."

She stood up and dusted the back of her dress. "Give them notice that you're taking a leave of absence starting on Monday. Then meet me at the bagel shop, nine-am sharp."

"I thought Kaitlin told me that your place was only for women?"

"It is, but my neighbor could use some help and maybe he'll let me borrow you from time to time to do a little heavy lifting," she cackled and coughed then dropped her cigarette pack into her purse.

=FIVE=

Rodger Thornson owned a small ranch west of Kathy's place. It wasn't much by western standards, a little over 200 acres, but enough to run a few head of cattle, some goats, and a dozen of so chickens. He wasn't in it to make a fortune; he'd left those dreams years ago when his wife died. He sold off a couple of sections and kept the acreage around the house so he wouldn't feel hemmed in by his neighbors. The goats and the cattle kept the taxman at bay; the rest was slowly declining, like he was.

Kathy pulled up in the yard near the barn. She stepped out and shouted for Rodger. The place was rather quiet, just an occasional clucking from a nearby chicken. A couple of minutes later a two-seat four-wheeler came around the corner of the barn dragging a wagon full of supplies for fencing. A large brown dog sat in the passenger seat, barking. The four-wheeler pulled up next to her truck.

"Hey neighbor, what brings you out here?" A wiry old man stepped off the cart. He was shorter than her by a couple of inches and he missed a few whiskers on his chin this morning shaving; but the twinkle in his eye was unmistakable. What he lacked in height he made up for in personality. He wore bib overalls and a 'Caterpillar' tractor ball cap; the bill was frayed and sweat stains discolored the label. He sauntered over to his screened in porch and grinned at her. "I bet you can't wait to taste my latest brew."

Kathy leaned over to Alex, still sitting in her truck, with a sparkle in her eye. "Rodger's been running a still in his garage now for, what's it been?" She turned to him standing by his porch. "Twenty years?"

He nodded then turned and opened the screen door on the porch. He returned with two glasses glistening with moonshine. He looked into her truck and noticed she had a passenger. "Where are my manners, you want a sip young man?"

Alex waved him off and smiled. "Perhaps later."

Kathy knocked the glass back and downed the drink in one gulp. She handed it back to Rodger with a breathless, "smooth."

"The first batch is always the smoothest," he said with pride. "So, what's up, Munson?"

"Well, I have another lost soul who could do with a little hard work if you can use him, it might clear his mind."

Rodger leaned on the cab of Kathy's truck and turned to Alex. "You ever worked on a ranch, son?"

"No sir, but it doesn't mean I'm not willing to try," Alex replied.

Rodger nodded and then turned to Kathy. "What's he need?"

"Room and board...peace and quiet."

"Well, we've got plenty of that. Scramble out of that truck, son, let me take a look at you."

Alex walked around the cab of the truck and stood next to Kathy. Rodger looked him over, grabbed his biceps and his back.

"I feel like I'm at a horse auction," Alex muttered.

Rodger paused a moment. "Ever been to one?"

"Nope, just seen one on TV."

"Humpf. Well, we'll give it a day and see how he does." Rodger turned to Alex. "Take you bags to the porch and I'll meet you there in a minute."

Kathy grinned as Alex hefted his bags out of the bed of her truck. "I'll be over at the end of the day to have a little chat with him...sort of see how he's doing."

Alex did as he was instructed and sat in a rocking chair while Rodger finished with Kathy. They spoke in soft tones so he couldn't hear what they were saying but it appeared that Kathy was trying to reassure him that Alex would work out. A moment later, Kathy got into her truck and drove off.

Rodger turned and came inside the house. "Take your bags upstairs, son, first door on the left is your room. The bathroom is down the hall at the end. Dinner is at 6pm sharp and breakfast at 6am. Settle in and come back down, I'll be on the front porch."

A few minutes later, Alex came down the stairs and joined Rodger on the porch. "The names Alex Turnbolt, thanks for taking me in."

Rodger smirked. "We'll see how happy you are after tomorrow; it's going to be a long day." Rodger rocked a bit then turned to Alex. "So what did you do in the city?"

"Since I graduated I've mostly worked as an accountant, just a small fish in a big pond."

Rodger nodded. "You have any work clothes in those bags you brought in?"

Alex nodded. "Kathy warned me to 'pack to work', she called it."

"She's been a good neighbor...over twenty years now," he said looking off across the yard. "She was with me to the bitter end when my wife died, I don't know if I would of made it without her."

He stood up and turned to Alex. "Well, I might as well show you around the place. Not much to it, but it's home." He opened the screen door and stepped out. "Come on. After that I guess you can check out the pantry and figure out what you're cooking for dinner."

"I'm cooking dinner?"

"I suspect so, unless you want to starve." He led the way to the barn with Alex and the brown dog in tow.

The barn was getting old, like it's owner. There was a hay loft above and stalls below, including a place to park the four-wheeler. He even had an old Allis-Chambers tractor in one of the stalls.

Rodger walked over and pulled a tarp off. "Ever driven a tractor before?"

Alex shook his head.

"Can you drive a stick-shift?"

"Yeah, I learned when I was sixteen. My dad thought it was important."

"Good. Well, the biggest thing to remember with this old girl is to double clutch between gears." He patted the engine housing affectionately. "She's been going strong for twenty years." He turned to Alex with a grin. "They don't make them like this anymore."

He flipped the tarp back over the tractor and turned to walk out of the door. "Come on, I'll show you the pasture. You'll be replacing fence posts out there tomorrow."

They walked out into the yard and Rodger hopped into the four-wheeler, the dog jumped into the passenger seat. Rodger motioned for the dog to stand on the fender behind them and Alex sat beside him. Rodger floored the accelerator and wheeled the cart around to head out past the chicken coup and a couple of other sheds. The dog barked at the chickens as they squawked and flapped out of the way.

The rest of his two hundred acres was beyond. He drove across the green pasture passing a few head of cattle and some goats.

"What's the dog's name?"

Rodger stopped the cart. "Henry. He's a little put out that you're riding in his seat, but he'll get over it."

He pointed out a fence line that ran from a gate near the house. It ran into some low hills in the distance. "Best thing to do is follow the fence line. There are a lot of rotten posts along the way; those are the ones you replace. I'll get you started with a couple tomorrow morning, then the rest is up to you."

Alex followed the fence line as it disappeared over a hill. "How much needs to be done?"

"All of it, at least the ones broken. Carson McGuiness is running sorghum in the next field over and if the fence is broken my cattle will get into it. Not to mention the damn goats. I've had an earful too many times to count. It's best to keep the fence mended."

He started the cart up again and roared off to the right. He crested a small hill and a stream meandered across the property. "You like trout fishing?"

Alex shook his head. "Never tried it. Fly fishing?"

Rodger nodded. "Yup, best kind."

He rolled back off the top of the hill and headed towards the barnyard. "Getting close to dinner time, Alex," he grinned. "I hope you're a good cook."

Alex felt a bit apprehensive as they roared up to the porch.

"Hop off, I'll put the four-wheeler away while you start dinner."

Rodger roared off as Alex opened the screen door and stepped into the house. The pantry was a large pass-thru near the back of the kitchen that led to the cellar. Alex scanned the shelves looking for something recognizable. Eventually, he settled on a can of red beans and a box of Uncle Ben's Wild Rice.

"You can do a lot worse than beans and rice," he muttered.

He found a large saucepan and filled it with water then set it on the stove to boil.

An hour and a half later, with dishes piled next to the sink, Alex filled the sink with soapy water.

"You can leave those for later," Rodger muttered.

"Which is why I couldn't find a fork to save my soul," Alex replied as he scrubbed an old saucepan. "This won't take long. Henry looks hungry."

Rodger nodded and filled Henry's bowl with dry dog meal then coated it with the remaining beans and sauce. He took the bowl out to the front porch as Henry pranced behind him anxiously.

Twenty minutes later the dishes were done and as if like clockwork, Kathy pulled up in her truck.

=SIX=

Stepping from her truck, Kathy waved to Rodger. "Hey neighbor, what's Alex up to?"

Rodger stood next to a hungry brown dog cleaning his dish like it was the last meal he was going to get. "He's finishing the dishes." He gestured over his shoulder inside.

Kathy nodded and stood waiting until Alex came out onto the porch. "Hey there, got time to talk?" Alex nodded and moved to sit on a simple white wooden chair, badly needing a coat of paint. Kathy sat in the old rocking chair while Rodger wandered back into his house and turned on the television.

Kathy looked across the barnyard. "How's it look to you, do you think you can handle it?" She rocked back and forth slowly; the dog lapped at his bowl trying to get the last morsel.

"Yeah, I think so. Of course tomorrow will be a better judge of things. Rodger wants me to do some fencing. I've never done it before so that should be interesting."

Kathy smiled and nodded. "How about home, do you miss it?"

Alex considered her question for a while. Did he miss the city, all the people and congestion? What about his co-workers, were any of them really his friends? He thought about Kaitlin for a moment, and that left a lingering tightness in his chest, something that had been missing for a long time. Her smile could brighten up any room; he did miss her.

He shrugged his shoulder and offered her a half smile. "Parts of it, but I'll be okay. Tomorrow is the more immediate concern, I hope he has an extra pair of gloves."

The conversation drifted between the work he was expected to do on the ranch and his life before he met Kaitlin. They talked into the night and before Kathy stepped into her truck. The moon had risen well above the eastern horizon by now.

Alex waved to her as she pulled out of Rodger's barnyard, turning her truck back onto the gravel road that led to his ranch. He stood a moment and gazed up into the night sky, the stars were spectacular in the country, even with a quarter-moon lighting up the sky. Alex shoved his hands into his pockets and turned to go back inside.

In the living room he found Rodger sound asleep while the evening news blathered on about storms raging in the south. Why they bothered to talk about weather that would never reach them was beyond him. He nudged Roger's arm.

"I'm heading for bed. I expect that tomorrow is going to be a long one."

"Probably a hot one at least," muttered Rodger as he picked up his remote and turned off the TV. Alex nodded and turned to climb the stairs to his bedroom. Rodger flipped off the lights and followed Alex up the stairs.

=SEVEN=

At five-thirty in the morning, Alex heard Rodger knock on his bedroom door. "Breakfast time." He could smell the aroma of coffee drifting up the staircase. From the sounds of it, Rodger had been up for at least a half hour. Well, if he didn't demand a full meal, breakfast would be easier than dinner. He needed to remember to make a shopping list for groceries later today.

Alex stood up, pulled on a pair of jeans and a chambray shirt, and then dug in his bag for a pair of socks. Once that was done he pulled on a pair of work boots he bought just for this occasion. After a trip to the bathroom he walked down the stairs to meet Rodger in the kitchen.

Alex sipped on a cup of coffee and waited for the toaster to pop. He grabbed two slices and buttered them up then he slathered strawberry jam across them both.

"Come on," Rodger mumbled walking out of the kitchen. "Best get at it before the sun beats you down."

Alex pushed the two pieces of toast together into a 'sandwich' and he and Henry followed Rodger out to the barn. He wolfed down his breakfast as he waited for Rodger to start the four-wheeler. Rodger backed the rig up to one of the stalls filled with metal and wooden fence posts. He pointed to several bundles. "Just load up two bundles each for now, you can get more after lunch if you're not broken," he added with a crinkled grin.

Alex set his cup of coffee down on the fender of the four-wheeler and peered into the wagon. "I don't suppose you have an extra pair of gloves do you?"

"Yup, over there on the rail," he said pointing to the railing that defined the stall in the barn. Alex grabbed a pair that wasn't missing fingers and shoved them into his hip pocket.

Once they loaded the supplies Alex picked up his coffee and took a sip. Rodger scratched Henry behind the ears as Alex finished his breakfast. That accomplished, they headed out. Henry rode the fender again, barking at all the chickens as they drove past. "Henry likes to bark at things, especially chickens," Rodger chuckled. "It makes him happy I guess."

They rounded the corner of the chicken coup and headed for the barnyard gate. Once past that, Rodger steered left and pulled up to the fence. "We'll start here and you can work your way back along this line. Metal posts are for flat land, especially this bottom soil, and wooden posts are best used in the hilly areas. They're harder to pull out."

Rodger stepped out and lifted a metal post out of the wagon. He walked to the fence line and set the post on the ground, nearby. The wooden post in front of him was rotted off at the ground, hanging on by the three barbed wires that strung between it and the next post. He pulled out a fencing tool and pried the staples out of the old post. "This here's a fencing tool, it does most of what you need to get the work done."

Alex stood close, watching the way he handled the tool. "You don't put the metal post in the same hole do you?"

"Nah, that would be stupid, wouldn't it. Just get it close, that's all you need to do."

"Like horseshoes and hand-grenades?" Alex quipped.

"Huh?"

"Close counts," he grinned.

"Oh, yeah." Rodger pulled the metal stake up and placed it near the old posthole. "Grab that stake driver would you?" Alex wasn't quite sure what he meant until Rodger pointed to a long pipe laying in the wagon. He pulled up what looked like a metal tube weighted at one end and handed it to Rodger. "Here," Rodger said lifting the stake driver over the top of the metal post. "Grab this thing and drive the stake down until the blades at the bottom are below the ground."

Alex lifted the stake driver and slammed it down on the head of the metal stake. After several blows the blades at the bottom sunk beneath the sod. He lifted the stake driver off the metal post and set it in the wagon.

"Good, but next time drive the stake straighter," Rodger said, pulling the metal post vertical. "Look in that box in the front of the wagon for wire clips, we need three of them."

Alex pulled up a tangled mess of clips and sorted out three. He handed them to Rodger. "I'll do the first one so you can see how it's done, you do the rest," Rodger said handing two of the clips back to Alex. He twisted the clips around the wire and held it tightly against the post. "Here's where that fencing tool comes in handy," he grinned, handing the tool to Alex. "Your turn."

It took a try or two to get the hang of it, but eventually, Alex was able to twist the clips onto the wire and hold it fast to the metal post. "All right, one done, let's move on to the next," Rodger said, skipping two good ones and pointing to a post further down the fence line. Rodger started the four-wheeler and moved further down the fence line. Another broken post was up ahead, it was located on a gentle rise. He stopped and pulled out a wooden post.

"For these wood posts, use those metal staples in the other box over there," he pointed to a smaller box filled with heavy metal staples. "The post-hole digger is what you use to dig the hole. There's a mark on the handles for two feet, that's the depth you have to go for each post." Alex nodded trying to remember all of his instructions. It wasn't complicated, once you understood the system, there were just a few more parts than he was aware of.

He started digging a hole six inches from where the rotten post was broken off. Once he got the depth right, Rodger dropped the post in place. "Now get the shovel and fill in around the post while I hold it vertical. Use the butt of the handle to tamp the dirt down around the new post real tight."

After they set the wooden post, Rodger walked off in the direction of the goats grazing on a small knoll. "You got the hang of it, the rest is up to you. Once you get to a corner, I need to show you how to make a 'H-Brace', they are a little tricky. But you ain't getting there anytime soon. See you at lunch time."

The work continued on as the sun rose in the sky. Alex was beginning to feel its effects; sweat was rolling off his back.

By noon, he had set nearly twenty posts, mostly metal, and the barnyard was nearly a quarter mile away. He wiped his brow and shook his head; this was a lot different than pushing numbers on a page. But, somehow it gave him a greater sense of accomplishment.

Rodger stood at the barnyard gate and put two fingers in his mouth to make a shrill whistle and signal Alex that it was lunchtime. He stood waving to him after Alex looked up.

Alex climbed onto the four-wheeler and started it up. The gears were a lot like a motorcycle shift box, it reminded him of high school when he bought a small dirt bike. His parents were adamantly against it but he did it anyway. He only broke his arm once.

The four-wheeler roared to life. He slipped the clutch too fast and the machine lurched out from under him. It was going to take some getting used to, he supposed. He turned back to the barnyard and met Rodger at the door to the screened porch.

"How far'd ya get?"

Alex stood up slowly and joined Rodger on the porch. "Not far, maybe a quarter mile. I think I set nearly twenty posts."

"Twenty? That's good but slow down a little or the afternoon sun will bake your brains out." Alex nodded with a grin.

After lunch, Alex returned to the barn and retrieved more posts, mostly metal ones. He spun the four-wheeler around and headed back into the pasture to pick up where he left off.

Late in the afternoon, he watched a hawk soar in lazy circles around a stand of trees in the distance. Probably watching for a gopher or a rabbit, he thought bringing his hand down from shielding his eyes from the setting sun.

It was nearly four-thirty and the shadows were getting longer. Alex took off his shirt and let the warmth of the sun's rays bake his back as he set two more metal posts.

Alex walked up to the four-wheeler on the down side of a small hill. He couldn't see the barnyard from where he stood; his wristwatch read nearly five o'clock. If Rodger expected to eat at six he'd probably have to finish up soon. Alex pulled his shirt back on and turned the four-wheeler around to head back to the barn, remembering where Rodger stored the four-wheeler over night.

He's replaced another ten posts since lunch and he felt pretty good but he knew that his body would remind him that tomorrow would be tougher.

"How'd you do?" Rodger sat rocking in his favorite porch chair as Alex passed by looking for the bathroom.

"Another ten posts. I'm on the other side of that first hill just before the stream."

Rodger nodded and smiled. "Tomorrow will be tougher."

"I know, but I'll be alright. Dinner in a half hour."

"What are we having?"

"No clue. I'll see what's available and let you know." He found a box of macaroni and cheese in the pantry and a package of hot dogs in the refrigerator. The hot dogs didn't smell bad so he sliced them up and dropped them in the macaroni after he mixed in a bag of cheese mix.

After dinner Alex sat on the front porch and waited for Kathy to drive up.

He yelled in through the front door to Rodger sitting and watching TV. "We need to go to town soon, you're about out of everything fixable in that pantry."

"Sounds good, we'll go Saturday, I gotta get more staples too," Rodger replied.

About then Kathy's truck roared into the barnyard. She stopped near the barn and hopped out. "Still alive?" She shouted over Henry's barks.

Alex waved and stood up. "Just barely," he chuckled.

Kathy walked up to the screened in porch and swung the door open. She flopped down in Rodger's rocker and put her feet up. "Whew! I've been shoveling horse-shit all day, I'm missing Kaitlin, I guess."

Alex nodded and smiled, her name congered up fond memories of the times they spent sorting her receipts in her office.

"So, how was your first day?"

"Okay, I guess. Truth will tell tomorrow morning when I wake up and attempt to get out of bed," he laughed, rubbing his neck.

"I suppose so, especially for someone not used to manual labor."

"But it gives me a sense of satisfaction at the same time. I look back over the fence line and I see something I've accomplished. With numbers, they just seemed to blur together after a while."

Kathy nodded and leaned over to whisper in his ear. "You don't have to go back, you know?"

"I know. But maybe there's a reason for me to do that this time. I can always drop in and give Rodger a hand."

"Oh, I suppose Kaitlin is a good reason to go back. Does she share your feelings?"

"I'm not sure, but I think so. Anyway, I'll never know digging fence posts out here."

Kathy offered him a half-smile. "You have time tomorrow to stop by and help me put up some supplies?"

"What time?"

"After lunch. I'll clear it with Rodger first. I bought some stuff for winter and some of it's too heavy for my girls."

"Sure, I should be limbered up by noon," he yawned. "Excuse me, I guess I'm worse off than I thought."

"No worries, I feel the same way." Kathy stood up slowly and reached for the screen door. "I guess I'll head back. See you around noon, oh, I forgot. Hey Rodger, can I borrow your hand tomorrow around noon to help me lift some heavy stuff? Rodger?" Kathy peeked into his living room. The television was blaring and he was sound asleep. "I guess I'll ask him tomorrow, it shouldn't be a problem. Good night, Alex."

She opened the screen door and stepped out into the night air. As she walked to her truck her path was lit by a lone yard light, a swirl with bugs attempting to land, then pushed off by the heat. Alex stood up and watched her go. Kaitlin was on his mind again. He wondered if she shared his growing feelings for her. Sooner or later, he would have to find out.

The next day, Alex stood on top of a small hill and watched a flock of wild turkey slip under the fence and into Carson McGuiness' sorghum field. He pulled out his cellphone and snapped a few photos. Evidence, he thought with a smile.

As the day wore on, Alex felt his body begin to loosen up. Waking up at five-thirty was tough even if he didn't have to face a day of hard labor. Still, looking back on what he'd accomplished, gave him a newfound sense of pride. It was a simple thing, setting fence posts, but it was good work that needed done and Rodger was well past the age when he could do this sort of work on a regular basis. Alex decided that in the future, if he had time, he'd come out and lend Rodger a hand with things.

After lunch, Kathy showed up in the barnyard and picked Alex up. Rodger grinned. "Need some time away from fencing, do ya?"

Alex waved and hopped into Kathy's truck. Two hours later, they returned. All she needed was some bales of pine straw put up for winter mulch and a few bags of feed for the horses stowed away so the rats wouldn't spoil them. The girls that helped Kathy out stood around and snickered as Alex pulled the bags and bails from Kathy's truck. Alex could see why she needed help, the girls tended to be on the skinny side.

Saturday came and went with å trip to a small town nearby for groceries and some hardware that Rodger needed to repair an old wagon. Alex spent the afternoon restocking the pantry and planned a nice roast dinner as a surprise for his host.

The next day, Sunday, was a day for rest. Rodger didn't say anything about going to church and Alex didn't know what to expect. Instead, he spent his day lounging around the front porch reading a magazine Kathy brought over. He hadn't seen a copy of the New Yorker in ages and he scoured the pages looking for interesting articles.

The days blended into weeks and the fence line was nearly finished. He was getting leaner and stronger as time wore on; the flab of city life and work behind a desk was melting away each day with the setting sun. On really warm days, he would take his shirt off in the late afternoon and let the sun work its magic on his scars. In a way, they faded with the setting sun as his skin toughened up.

He spent most of his nights thinking about Kaitlin, what she might be doing, where she might be. He thought about his 'new' car and the day they spent looking for it. Well, it was a used Ford sedan, but it was still new to him. It's had been years, probably his freshman year, since he owned a car. With Kaitlin he had a reason, the thought made him smile.

=EIGHT=

For the rest of the summer, his work continued to take him along the fence line during the hot summer days. And, each afternoon, he would take off his shirt and let the sun bake his scars away. It took him almost a month, but by the end of August he had finished the fence around Thornson's main pasture.

He never really looked for it but one day in late August, he felt like he had that same single moment that meant more than any other, just like the one Kaitlin had.

It was especially hot that day; the wind blew out of the south stirring up dust and dried grass along the way. He was covered in sweat and grime from fencing most of the day so he took a dip in the stream to rinse off. The mountain water was cold but refreshing. He stood in the middle of the stream dripping from the icy cold water and paused to watch the sun go down over the hills in the distance.

He suddenly felt cleansed. He realized that the part of his life, the one filled with anguish and pain was finally over. He was free. Free of everyone and everything that held him down. Finally, he could live his life. He could go back to accounting or not, it didn't matter...he could do anything...he was free.

That night he shared his thoughts with Kathy and Rodger. "I've managed to complete that fencing job for you, Rodger. I think you need a scratching bar for those cows; they like to move against the fence wire to handle an itch. It might save you a little in the long run."

Rodger smiled and laughed. "I've been thinking along those lines myself."

Kathy leaned over and scratched Henry behind his ears. "You need a ride into the city?"

Alex nodded. "I could use one. These past months have been rather therapeutic for me, if that can be attributed to setting fence posts," he said with a grin. "I think there's a special person I'd like to see. Rodger, when you're planning to put up hay this fall, give me a call and I'll come help."

Rodger smiled. "I will...I could use some."

Alex turned to Kathy. "When do you plan on stopping by?"

"Probably early, say eight?"

Alex stood up and stretched. "Sure, I guess I need to pack my bags then. Good night." He turned and climbed the stairs as Kathy and Rodger stood and walked out into the barnyard.

"The stars are out again tonight," Rodger said.

Kathy nodded, knowing the old man would most likely be a little lonely after spending a summer with Alex around.

"I guess I'm going to miss my cook, best one I had so far."

She smiled. "There will always be broken people who need mending, Rog," she said as she stepped off the porch and walked towards her truck. "I'll stop by on Saturday and bring dinner, deal?"

Rodger nodded and smiled, then he turned off the porch light as Kathy's truck swung around in his yard and headed down his gravel driveway.

=NINE=

That afternoon, a truck pulled up in front of Alex's apartment. He stepped out and grabbed his duffle bags from the bed of the truck. He waved to Kathy as she drove off. He turned and walked up the three flights of stairs to his tiny apartment. He needed to wash a bit of the ranch away, but not too much, he thought; the ranch had become an important part of his journey.

It was now in his past and, hopefully, Kaitlin would be in his future. He shaved and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. He smiled at his reflection in the mirror; he was leaner, stronger. His new look for his new life.

He grabbed his keys and walked down the stairs. His car, parked where he left it that Sunday afternoon in June, stood idle in the parking lot behind his apartment building. A turn of the key, a short crank, and it came to life.

Now it was time to see Kaitlin. Would she be happy to see him? It was time to find out.

The sun was just setting as the clock on the bank tower displayed six o'clock. Alex walked into Kaitlin's shop and, once again, the tinkle of the bell announced his arrival. He stood by the door unsure of what her reaction would be. He wondered what she had been doing all these months he was gone. He guessed that now was the time to find out.

He felt jittery, like a schoolboy on his first date. He realized that he'd forgotten flowers. Oh well, it was too late now. Maybe it wouldn't matter.

Once Kaitlin realized he was there, she raced to the front of the store; laughter and tears were streaming down her face. She stopped short, remembering his aversion to hugs then he opened his arms wide and beckoned her to him.

She slammed into him, kissing his cheek. "I've missed you," she whispered next to his ear, hugging him tightly.

He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. "I've missed you too."

He kissed her on the cheek. "But now I'm back."

She looked into his eyes, searching. "For good?"

He smiled and kissed her gently on the lips. "For always."

Copyright © 2016/Winters

Connect with the Author

K. WINTERS is a writer, playwright, artist, teacher, and designer who spends his days teaching in Virginia. He spends his evenings with his family, and his weekends writing, a rediscovered passion.   
His most recent novel, Vampire+Love, a book that continues to put his unique spin on the age-old vampire myth, was first published in May 2014 here at Smashwords.com

Coming Soon:

"KISMET" explores the human side of the age-old vampire myth; with all the faults and uncertainties that being human encompasses. Zoe Bertrand, a 'dhampir' - the ancient Romanian word for vampire half-breed - is discovered in a dark alley, having just captured a would-be rapist. Tristan Walker, her observer, turns out to be Zoe's childhood friend, long since forgotten. Mix magic and ancient relics with paranormal romance and you come close to Kismet, the Arabic or Turkish word for "meant to be."

Other fiction work by K. Winters available on Smashwords.com and in print at Amaon.com:

The Girl on the Bench in the Rain

Vampire+Love

I really appreciate you reading my book! Here are my social media links:

Friend me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/konradwinters.author

Find me on Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/konradwinters

Visit my Website: http://www. http://konradwinters.weebly.com/

