LACHLAN

I arrived to the worksite at seven, sleep deprived and working on my third cuppa coffee. After spending most of the night walking the halls with a colicky, angry baby, I wasn’t much in the mood for playing the genial boss with my crew. We’ve had our moments, but right now the blokes seem to know what needs to be done and don’t require much supervision.  Many of our day workers have been with us since the project started and they’re all just happy to have steady employment for a time. Mitchell’s after me to keep a couple of ‘em on; a kid who’s a bonzer electrician and an older bloke who knows his way around with a trowel. Can’t make any promises, but agreed to discuss the matter with Kevin later in the week.

As I pulled my truck onto the newly finished driveway, I drained the last few drops from my cup and was just startin’ to feel human again when I saw him, sittin’ in his Porsche with the motor still running, waiting. Jessie’d been after me to let Skinner help out and there he was, tryin’ to keep warm and reading the morning paper. He didn’t hear me as I pulled up behind him, and jumped when I tapped on the window.

His eyes lit up all happy like and I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. Maybe I’d been too rough on him; you couldn’t fault a man for wanting get into his own house. This old place was really coming along despite the delays and I was damned proud of what we’d accomplished. It was the finishing touches that were driving me mental, but seeing Skinner’s eager expression, I checked my attitude. 

“Mornin’ mate. You ready to get your hands dirty?”

He grinned like a kid and I was relieved to see that he’d arrived appropriately dressed; faded, well-worn old jeans, sturdy work boots, and what looked like a favorite flannie poking out from under the collar of his heavy black down jacket. He even brought a decent set of work gloves.

“Good morning, Lachlan. Just show me where I can start and I’ll try to keep out of everyone’s way.”
 
Bloody hell. His enthusiasm was contagious and I felt a jolt of energy surge through me. I clouted him on the shoulder and motioned towards the house. “Come on then; let’s have a look around and we’ll get ya set up.”

Skinner hesitated for a moment, a look of concern flashing across his face. “Perhaps I should have brought biscuits or scones for the crew?”

“No worries, mate. Mitchell brings the donuts and coffee every morning. But if you feel like springing for lunch, we break at noon.”

He nodded and grinned. “Seems only fair.”

MAX SKINNER

To my surprise, I find that painting can be amazingly restorative to one’s peace of mind. Well, to my peace of mind anyway. And I’m sure it helps that, in particular, I’m painting my own house. My own plaster walls. I like being part of the progress in a process, and I must say, Lachlan, Jeff, Egan and whoever else has been involved in the renovation of my crumbling farm house and future dwelling have done a marvelous job so far. They know what they’re on about, and I’m beginning to understand how easy it is with projects like these to fall behind on schedule. There is so much involved, and every next step hinges on what came before, and …

But I digress. Suffice it to say that I thoroughly enjoy being part of the whole deal, even if it’s only a relatively small part, and I have gained a whole new respect for my brothers as well as, I hope, a budding friendship that goes beyond our, erm, well, connection. Sharing a beer and a laugh after an afternoon of hard but satisfactory manual labour has its own peculiar charm. Still, it would be a stretch to say that I wish this moment could last forever. On the contrary; I can’t wait for the fifteenth of March.

I simply have to find ways to get out of Pullo’s more, especially now that he and Christina seem to move from the one-night-stand-status into something with a bit more sustainability. I shudder to think I might walk in on one of their more … ardent moments. Don’t get me wrong; even though I thought it was hilarious that Valerie caught Pullo and his love bird in the act, I thoroughly sympathize with the girl.

Christ, Valerie … she can’t seem to stop talking about Riley’s bloody friend from the bloody continent, while I can’t seem to get that woman’s bloody voice out of my mind. Keep hearing that soft, husky caress, that joy, that … promise, lurking there. Drives me to distraction. Bonkers, it drives me. I’m waxing bloody poetic, if I’m not careful. I mean me, Maximilian Skinner, waxing poetic. I don’t do bloody poetic!

I’m not going to say her name. Not going to say it. I’ve got more important things to worry about than a pretty skirt with an impressive mop and a sultry singing voice. And those green eyes. And that smile, really sweet and just a tad on the goofy side … and ...

Focus.

I have a slight sore throat which is a bother, especially now that I had to play the gentleman and lend her my scarf. I thought I was doing fairly well when I burst back into Kennedy’s after I’d discovered I left the bloody scarf behind in my hasty retreat. It was a lovely surprise to see it around her neck. Only when I was driving her back to the Inn … I seemed to lose it. Didn’t know what to say. Only thing I could think of was that as far as I was concerned, I could have gone on driving with her ensconced in the seat beside me for the rest of the night. Forever even, perhaps. It was like there was this … quality to the air, this edge to the night … I cannot possibly explain it.

Focus. Shite, just bloody focus.

Okay. Talked to Pullo about letting an office, possibly in Stowe. The soil seems to be okay and he’ll be absolutely top notch with the grapes and the casks and the whole practical routine of being a vintner, so it’s about time I started showing some results as well. Get the business end of it off the ground. Work on that plan for a showroom and tasting facilities, get the printed promotion material sorted out, get some contacts going, possibly even go international. Only top end hotels and restaurants, of course. I’m quite sure I’ll get the ball rolling good and proper once I get enough of a breather to clear my mind. The Fox and Hound Winery will be well known if I have anything to do with it.

Pullo was in total agreement about the office, and on top of that, he suggested I should talk to Riley about it. He seems to believe that Riley knows the solution to everything, and if she doesn’t know, she’ll know someone who does.

So all right, off I went, in search of Riley, thinking to myself that if I got really, really lucky, I might run into… my scarf again. It had to be somewhere lying around at the Inn. I might as well take it home now; Lord knows I could put it to good use this very moment.

It’s only a short drive, and I decided on a quick fag outside before I went in, to calm the nerves and all that. If ever there was a need to be cool, calm and collected, it was right now, this very moment. I was freezing though, and coughing my way through the cigarette, when suddenly … there was Jackie, handing me a scarf. Hers, apparently. Bollocks, I’ve said her name after all. She was wearing mine. It looked nicer on her than it does on me, I’m sure.

She dragged me inside, made Andy give me another bowl of his beautiful soup to warm up, and then I legged it out of there before my vapid-to-nonexistent conversation became too embarrassing to bear. What is it with this bird anyway? Why can’t I seem to behave like a coherent, intelligent adult around her?

Riley listened intently when I summarized my current ideas about an office space away from Pullo’s, at least until my house is done. Then, she grinned and said, “come long with me,” and she took me down to the pub, into the storage room, and through another door that lead to a small, semi-circular room with one little window. Dingy, was the word that sprang to mind. The window could do with a wash. The room could do with a coat of paint, and the rubble that had gathered in there could do with being tossed out.

“You can use this for the time being, and I won’t charge you anything if you clean it out yourself. Do some work on it if you like,” Riley grinned.

“It’s not very fancy,” I replied, frowning.

“I know,” said Riley, smiling wickedly, “but it’s free.”

Fancy free. Oh ha ha. Her sense of humour never ceases to amaze me. But then, I reasoned, “well it’s only for a few months, really, and it’s conveniently closer to Pullo’s than Stowe; closer to my own place as well. I suppose I could extend my newly developed wall-painting skills to cover this place as well.” And I’d have a much better chance of seeing … my scarf … walking around from time to time if I had a good reason to be here regularly, my mind secretly added. “We seem to have a deal,” my mouth said before I could give it more thought, and I extended a hand.

Riley grinned ever more broadly.

JACKIE

So the gig last week was a success. What a relief that was! I actually had a brilliant time, although I just kept looking around for Maxi while I was up there. Couldn’t help it; for some reason I had been really, really looking forward to having him in the audience. Wanted to make an impression I suppose. But he never showed up during the first set, so I had all but given up on Mr. Soup Factor and I was happily being chatted up by Gerry, who is all male and has no discernible factor of any type of food about him. Hold on though, that’s not quite true. He’s just a little bit beefy.

However, during the break, in waltzed Maxi after all, looking slightly harried with another bloke in tow. Funny thing was that soon as I was finished, and had extricated myself from the enthusiastic hug of Mr. Beefy (who is not particularly inhibited, as he kissed me full on the mouth and would have made more of it too had I not stepped away), Maxi had disappeared again. He apparently ran out, forgot his scarf, which I nicked immediately (and it smelled so nice; what kind of aftershave does that man wear? Eau de Soupe?), and just as I was getting used to having a warm neck, which is always nice after a hearty round of singing … in storms Maxi again, looking for his scarf.
 
So he offered me the use of said scarf for the evening, as well as a ride home, which I took, especially since Gerry wasn’t done in the pub by a long shot and I was suddenly very tired. Maxi is every inch the gentleman, do you know that? Opens doors for you like it’s second nature to him. He did the door thing on our way out, and again with his car, a lovely sleek silver Porsche, and he leaned in to help me with the weird seat belt. I foggily noticed that not just his scarf smells of Eau de Soupe. The rest of him does as well. Or at least the bits of him that came in close enough proximity to my nose.

He climbed in, roared down the street and blasted up the mountainside just a little too fast for my liking. He never looked at me and didn’t say a word; just floored it with intense concentration. We reached the Inn in no time at all and I regretfully started to uncoil his scarf, but soon as he noticed, he insisted I should keep it on. He even clicked his seat belt open, turned towards me and wound it around my neck once more, getting it all tangled up in my hair, and then he looked really confused and started muttering apologies and everything. Classic floppy Brit behaviour.

What I really wanted to do was hug him. There was something so sweet about him, and he was being just a little bit silly. But I didn’t. I’m sure he would have frozen; he seems far too stuffy for anything spontaneous. So I just said thanks and good night, and got out the car and into the Inn with this inexplicable but niggling feeling of dissatisfaction.

Things have been quieting down. A lot of Riley and John’s friends and family have gone back to their respective homes now that their extended holidays are over, and slowly, I feel this calm descending. I was supposed to be on, well not exactly a holiday, but a long break from work, and it’s beginning to feel good, despite the, erm, niggling dissatisfaction that just seems to linger really persistently. Niggling dissatisfaction, well as far as I’m concerned niggling feelings of any kind, should be collectively banned to Siberia, that’s what I say.

You know I’ve been walking around with Maxi’s scarf around my neck. Even indoors. Didn’t give it much thought actually, I just really like the thing. The feel of it and of course the way it smells. Riley grins at me, John looks like he wants to take the piss but he refrains (barely so). He seems to be talking about Gerry and the pub a lot, around me. Wonder if he’s trying to send a message?

Oh, and I met Kim and Emily, who apparently run the more administrative side of the Inn, when I snuck down to the office again to see if I could get onto the Internet there. John is really busy with his plans for the mayoral election (how exciting is that eh? My mate may be married to a bloody mayor in a bit! Woot!), and the Biebemeister needs his computer.

Kim and Emily had been at the gig last Saturday and apparently they had had a laugh, which is always a good way to break the ice. Turns out that Kim is thinking along the same lines as I where wireless Internet access at the Inn is concerned. So I told them a bit about my more nerdy disposition. With the kind of job I have, it’s hard not to pick up on all sorts of useful info and by now I know stuff about networks and bandwidth that would earn me points at Trivial Pursuit, if the right questions were asked. So I offered my help, since Kim announced he was looking to hire an on-site techie. Until he’d find a suitable employee, I might as well make myself useful, right?

Kim gave me a fax and asked my opinion. It was a contract for a satellite wireless, and it looked like a really good deal. Until I came to the part where it said how many workstations could go online in one go. Two, to be precise. And a quick count at the office, front desk, John’s computer and the one in the kitchen set the tally at seven already, and I’m sure there’s a couple more around. And that did not even include guests wanting to go online. The deal did not look so good now, plus I had to ask about firewalls. If the whole Inn would go satellite, so would the booking system, the financial admin… hacker’s heaven, I’m telling you.

Kim frowned then hoisted an eyebrow at me. “Terry won’t like that,” he said.

“Nor would Dino,” said his girlfriend, which made Kim give her a funny look. I have no clue who this Dino might be, but there was a definite undercurrent going on that I did not want any part of.

So I advised them to stick to a broadband landline, buy enough bandwidth for about thirty users at a go to begin with, and invest in an industrial strength wireless router, to be hooked up inside a firewalled network environment. Augment the thing with a couple of boosters, after all it’s a big place, and Bob’s your uncle. I said I’d be happy to help pick out hardware and install the stuff if Kim wanted it done before he hired a tech guy. All he had to do was ask.

While Kim was stewing on that, I drifted into the lobby to see if Gerry had made and delivered new posters for the upcoming gig, when I spotted a silver Porsche in the driveway. And sure enough, there was Maxi, right outside the entrance hugging a smoke with hunched shoulders. I suddenly felt very guilty for hanging on to his scarf and so I raced up the stairs, grabbed my own green fleece scarf, stormed back down and outside just as he blew out the last cloud of smoke. He coughed and sniffled and looked up in surprise when I thrust my scarf under his nose.

“Here, Maxi,” I said, feeling indescribably awkward all of a sudden. “I’m wearing yours, so you should have mine. It’s only fair.”

He suppressed another cough then accepted the thing, his eyebrows practically in his hairline, but he wrapped it around his neck straight away nonetheless. “Thanks,” he croaked. “I have a question to ask Riley. Is she around, at all?”

“She’s upstairs, trying to get Nathan to go for his nap,” I said. “Are you okay, Maxi?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine … well, maybe a little under the weather, but nothing life-threatening, I assure you. I just seem to have contracted some sort of … ” He flapped a hand and didn’t bother to finish the sentence. Instead he just looked at me. His eyes were a greenish-grayish blue in the winter sunlight; a very unusual colour. Luminous, and quite intense. I couldn’t look away, but then another cough ran through him and he shivered.

“You look really cold,” I said, shivering a little myself, coatless but for his scarf around my neck. “We’d better go inside and find you something to warm up a little before you talk to Riley. Maybe Andy will have made some more of that … soup?”

I couldn’t help but grin.

KIM

Listening to Jackie’s suggestions, I’m even more convinced that we need to hire a Network Administrator as soon as possible. Bloody hell, I hate to admit it, but what I don’t know about computers and networking almost cost the Inn a bundle. I felt a little embarrassed about that, but Jackie was nice about not rubbing it in my face.

After she left the office I turned to Emmie and shrugged. “I guess I’d better leave all this IT stuff to the professionals.”

She glanced up from her desk and smiled all sweet like. “I’ll start contacting some of the applicants and begin interviewing on Monday. And don’t beat yourself up over it; we’re just a little over our heads in this department.”

To top it off, her earlier remark about Dino still kind of rankled, but I didn’t want her to know this. Women have a way of reminding their blokes that they’d better watch themselves, and I knew that I’d earned her comment from my own sorry-arsed behavior. I went to pour myself a cup of coffee. Not that I really wanted coffee at that moment, but it felt better than just standing there looking and feeling like an idiot, know what I mean?

I had just filled my cup and was about to add a couple packets of sugar when I felt Emmie come up behind me and wrap her arms around my waist. Her hands felt good as they smoothed across the front of my shirt, then playfully reached higher to tug on my tie. I reached up and took hold of one of her hands and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Her voice was soft and only for me. “You can’t be an expert on everything, babe.”

If she thought I was out of sorts because of Jackie’s information, I wasn’t about to correct her. But I appreciated the hug nonetheless.

JEFF WIGAND

I’m not much in the mood to be light or frivolous lately, and for some reason, everyone has started harping on me to go get a checkup. You’d think I had one foot in the grave or something and the simple fact of the matter is that I’m just tired.

Teaching full time after so many years is a bit more draining than I anticipated. I’m a creature of habit and like my days to be well ordered and planned out. Breakfast at seven, arrive to school forty minutes later, get a cup of coffee and a Danish from the teacher’s lounge and greet the students as they trudge into my classroom for the first instruction of the day. Beginning Japanese seeps in best when the mind is fresh, even though I’m sure my students will claim otherwise. 

Second period is free, so I go over the papers I wasn’t able to grade from the night before and work out new assignments. Halfway through I’ll take a break and have another cup of coffee and maybe another Danish unless Kelly’s packed some sort of snack in my briefcase. But lately she’s been on this health kick and while I applaud her efforts, I just don’t like oat cakes and tofu spread. One bite and I feel like I’m eating cardboard. She’s even tried filling my thermos with green tea, but it just doesn’t have enough flavor to hold my interest. Tea is for after dinner, with a twist of lemon and an almond cookie or piece of biscotti on the side.

When the third period bell rings, I can really feel the drag. I feel achy, like my joints are rusty, although I’m certain it’s nothing more than the weather. I’ve had arthritis in my knees for a few years now, and it really only bothers me during the winter. I think it’s setting into my left shoulder as well. Normally I can work out the kinks and aches by playing a hard round of golf, but its difficult to do with eight feet of snow covering the driving range. Kelly’s been after me to come join her at the gym and take a water aerobics class, but the last thing I need is to be surrounded by a bunch of creaky old folks bragging about their grandchildren.

I dragged myself through sixth period and gathered my briefcase to leave.

“Mr. Wigand, a word if you please?”

I looked up to see our new dean, Father James Carroll standing at the classroom door. I nodded, expecting a discussion regarding the upcoming spring science fair but of course, that wasn’t what he had to say. I had to just grin and bear it.

“Jeff,” his voice was quiet as he sat in one of the student desks and looked up at me. “My friend, I know no other way to say this but … you look like shit.”

COLIN

The law offices of Zaminski and Smythe were located in Ocala, Florida, and I was happy to escape the Vermont winter for a bit and fly out for our meeting. They represented the business interests for Oscar Fuentes and Victory Motors, and while we were in agreement on the details of my purchasing the team, it seemed that Fuentes’ son, Richard had a couple of provisions of his own to toss onto the table before the contract was signed. I was willing to listen, figurin’ that everything I’d ever heard about the kid suggested he was on the level. My own attorney was down with the flu, so I was on my own.

“Just don’t sign anything until I’ve had a chance to look at the contract!” His voice over the phone was raspy, followed by a fit of coughing. I just grinned.

“No worries, mate. I don’t expect the kid to be askin’ for the moon or anything. Probably wants to add a few perks to his travelin’ allowance. He’s got that new wife and baby to think about, and I can’t say as I blame him. We’ll see what happens.”

The receptionist led me into a small meeting room with windows overlooking a small park below. It was nice to see green trees and grass, where Vermont is still under a thick blanket of snow. She set me up with a cuppa before turning to go.

“If you need anything, just dial zero.” She pointed to a phone on the credenza behind me, her eyes shining and her expression suggestin’ that anything might also include her. She was pretty enough, but surprisingly, I wasn’t interested.

“Thank you, love. I’m sure I’ll manage just fine.”

A last suggestive look before she closed the door behind her, and I felt the footprint of a small quiet voice kickin’ me in the arse. Don’t even think about it, mate.

The coffee was good and I was half finished when Richard Fuentes came into the room followed by one of the attorneys, an older bloke with thinning gray hair who walked like he was in some sort of pain. He smiled and held out his hand as he sat down.

“Good afternoon, Mr. O’Brien. I’m Sirus Zemanski. I just got off the phone with your attorney and my secretary will fax the contract over to him for the final review. I believe you already know Richard.”

We’d never met formally, but his father often spoke of him whenever we were together. The kid smiled self-consciously and held out his hand. He looked tired and I was reminded how tired Lachlan looked the last time I saw him. Seems like having a nipper about has that effect on new parents.

“Pleased to finally meet you, Mr. O’Brien.”

His hand was warm and steady. Always a good sign.

Zemanski opened up the file he brought with him, spreading it out across the table top and looking it over quickly. “We’ve included Richard’s provisions in this contract draft, but I’ll let Richard tell you about it himself.”

The kid took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, lookin’ me straight in the eye. I could tell he was nervous, but I gave him credit for doing his own talkin’.

“Your offer to keep on our key employees is much appreciated, Mr. O’Brien. And helping the others with your generous severance package was a kind gesture; you weren’t required to do that under the circumstances. But I have one favor to ask, and your answer will determine whether or not I accept your offer to represent Road Runner Motors as a driver. It’s not a favor that I ask lightly.”

My curiosity was sparked. “Well, ask away, mate. Let’s see if we can work a deal.”

Zaminski cleared his throat, but didn’t say anything. The kid took another deep breath.

“You have to hire my sister on as a full time employee as part of the deal. She’s been out of the business a few years, but she was a big part of it from the very beginning and she’s an excellent mechanic and knows her way around the pit. She’s had a rough time of it lately, and I mean to look after her. She took care of me when we were younger, and I owe her.”

I vaguely remembered Oscar mentioning a daughter during one of our conversations, but that was all. The kid’s reference to her going through a rough time worried me. The last thing we needed was a recovering addict or worse working alongside precision equipment. Or what if she was a single mother with a brood of ankle biters who needed lookin’ after? I hated to ask the obvious question, but felt I really needed to know.

“When you say she’s had a rough time lately, I’m gonna have to ask what you mean, mate.”
 
The kid squared his jaw and gave me a look of challenge. Okay, so he was serious about lookin’ after his sister. Maybe we could work out another arrangement.

“Her husband and daughter were killed last year when their car was run off the road by a drunk driver. Vicki’s tough, Mr. O’Brien, but I think you can understand that she’s been struggling with putting her life back together. Then with dad being so ill … if you bring her on, it’ll help her concentrate on something she used to love and I’ll be able to keep an eye on her.”

There was something in the tone of the kid’s voice that told me he wasn’t just blowin’ smoke. I thought about it for a moment, realizin’ that Hando would never let me hear the end of it, but that annoying little voice spoke up again and told me, do this and you won’t regret it.

Bloody hell. I just hoped this Vicki wasn’t the needy type. Recovering from such a devastating loss would be hard for anyone. But I wanted the kid as my replacement, and just maybe I’d be doing a good deed by acceptin’ his request. We could always use a good mechanic, and maybe hiring on a female would get us some good press. We were gonna need it.

I met the kid’s gaze and held out my hand. “I think we can work something out, mate. I’ll take her on based on the fact that Oscar is an old friend and because you’ll be responsible for her if things don’t work out.”

Richard Fuentes reached over to take my hand. His palm was damp and I realized just how important this all was to him. I only hoped we both knew what we were doing.

Zemanski smiled and held out his own hand. “Excellent, Mr. O’Brien. We’ll fax this over to your attorney right away. Oscar will be so relieved.”

All rightie then. Road Runner Motors had itself a new driver. And a female mechanic. Seems like the Silly Season was startin’ early this year.

GERRY

Right. I’m not cheap. Let’s get that straight, okay? On the other hand, I run a business, and I don’t want to throw money to the wind, and I just know I paid way too much for that bloody PA system I rented last Saturday. I got Jackie exactly what she asked for, but it cost me an arm and a leg and I was well convinced that I could get a set of equal quality for a much better price. I was even considering buying my own set. It had been a success last week, and I was reckoning that if Jackie would play Saturdays while she was here, I had time to find a couple of local acts and get some sort of programme together.

So I called around a bit.

There was this guy who said he had exactly what I was looking for, and he had it for sale to boot. Price was reasonable, too. I thought I’d be streetwise about it though and test it out first. So I drove all the way to Burlington, loaded up the equipment (it looked every bit as professional as the stuff I had in before, only a bit more battered) and drove back with the bloke whose gear it was. He said he’d set it up for me, and teach me how to do it myself. Boudreaux, his name was. Marc-Marie Boudreaux. I should have known that a guy with a name like Marc-Marie is not to be trusted.

It started out nice enough. Marc-Marie built up the PA system for me, explaining how it worked as he went along, and I thought to myself; I can do this! But then he fired it up, and I was required to do the “testing, one, two, three” thing into the mike. It sounded bloody awful, but Marc-Marie assured me that it was just a matter of tweaking the thing. So he started fiddling around with the mixing board, and then all of a sudden WHAM! the lights went, and I heard staff in the back yell a panicky, “Boss! Come over here, quick, the fuse box is on fire!”

So I got out my mobile, switched it on and found the fire extinguisher by the light of the screen. Ran to the back, practically smashed the door in, roared a “get yer arses outta the way” and sprayed the thing right into kingdom come. Crisis averted. Only then we didn’t have any electricity. No heating, no cooling. Well that wasn’t such a tragedy since it was pretty cold outside, but if I didn’t sort this out soon, it would be pretty cold inside as well. And dark. And, well, closed. Not a good thing on a Friday night while the ski season is still going strong.

Cheers, Marc-Marie Boudreaux. Thank you so very much for this shite.

I had to give Lachlan a quick call, see if he could help me out. Oh, and fuck’s sake, I needed to give Jackie a ring! No gig tomorrow, no chance of a quiet, private after party, no driving her back to the Inn. But hang on a sec! I could suggest taking her out to dinner. For compensation. Pub would probably have to stay closed the whole weekend, I’d have to sort out stuff with insurance, get Lach and his mates on the case … might as well try to get some good out of a bad situation eh?

Dinner with the lovely Jackie was just the thing, I reckoned. 

RILEY

My day was moving pleasantly along. It was after dinner when I asked John to keep an eye on Nathan while I ran downstairs to be a part of the Inn. Monday. Nice and quiet. Our formal dining room and even the Pub are closed to the public on Mondays, so most of the guests were either out on the town, dining at other restaurants or huddled in their rooms with Pizza Hut deliveries.

I checked on the next week’s reservations. Still good. It’s been a great winter for the ski season. I looked around the lobby and parlor. Nice and clean, neat as a pin. Making Clari head of housekeeping was a good move. Jackie was in the quiet breakfast room working on her laptop and I had waved farewell to Kim and Emily as they left for the day. God sakes, I love the Inn, especially when it was like this, peaceful and feeling like my home … which it actually happens to be.

I trotted down to the pub, figuring to take a good look at that small space I offered Maxi earlier today. I never really meant for him to do all the work himself to make it useable. There were things I could do for him; have paint and drop cloths delivered; get some of the trash and boxes out. Maybe I’d order a small area carpet and a desk for him, have a few more electrical outlets installed. Phone lines were already down there from when Antony used the space as part of his security office before moving it all out to the cottage near the pond.

I flicked on the overhead lights and frowned. It looked pretty bad. Glancing around, I took inventory of what I could and couldn’t do … considering my secret condition and all, lugging heavy boxes was out of the question.

Daisy was in the Pub, doing her weekly inventory and starting behind the bar. We were calling an amicable chat to each other as we worked our respective jobs and I decided that the case of cocktail napkins sitting in the middle of Maxi’s soon-to-be office floor wouldn’t be too heavy to move into the dry storage room.

Holding the awkward box under one arm, I fished through my keys and found the right one, opened the storeroom door and immediately dropped the box on my toe. But I wasn’t about to yap about the pain … I was staring right into the eyes of a man; a gorgeous, blond man who looked oddly familiar and was seated on a case of Rolling Rock beer.

“Daisy!” I gasped, not quite loud enough for her to hear. Then I yelled. “Daisy!”

The man’s hand went out and his spectacular blue eyes widened. “Relax. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m a friend of Daisy’s.”

“Daisy! Why is a friend of yours locked in the storeroom?”

She finally arrived at my side and gave what sounded like a cross between a squawk and a meow. “Oh … shit!”

Afraid to take my eyes from the man, I hissed. “You know this guy?”

“Um … yeah. His name is Eric … um … Northman … I think.”

“Correct,” Eric sighed, an endearing grin pulling his lips.

“He … well … he was one of the guys who helped me when Fisher tried to kill me.”

“Huh?” I slithered my eyes to the side for a second. I thought Daisy had managed to thwart Fisher’s murder attempt single-handedly.

“Yes, I am an old friend of Daisy’s.”

I had to shake myself into logical thought. “Does Cory know about this?”

“Not that kinda friend,” Daisy grunted. “Eric, what are you doing here?”

He slowly stood his full six-foot-four height and we both gawked up at him. “I’m … actually, I’m not sure. I was curious to see if I could get back here.”

“Into the storeroom?” I spat.

“No, no,” he chuckled. “Ladies.” He lifted the case of napkins I’d dropped and set it on the shelf with the others. Apparently Eric Northman had spent some time there in our storeroom if he knew where the damn napkins were stored. “Shall we talk out in the pub? I don’t have much time.”

ERIC NORTHMAN

It worked! I’d swallowed two bottles of the vile TrueBlood and had a taste of one of Fangtasia’s human waitresses right before I tried this and … it worked. Granted, I’ll need to be a bit more precise with my navigation from now on. It would be a waste of time to end up sitting, locked in that storeroom in hopes that someone would come open the door every time I visit. Granted, it would take nothing to get out; I just have no interest in disrupting things here. I am only experimenting. But … the point is … it worked. And now I had two frightened human women to deal with. I am not mainstreamed enough to cope with this very well, but I intended to try.

We went out into the silent pub and I looked around. “Is business so bad?”

“No … uh … no,” Daisy said. “We’re closed on Mondays.” She turned to her companion and patted the small, dark woman’s arm. “It’s okay, Riley. He’s cool.” She turned to me. “Eric, how did you get here?”

I sighed. “The last time, it was at the hand of a witch that I was transported to this place. And … in the nick of time, I might add.” I tilted a grinning nod to Daisy.

“Right. Thanks. So, why are you here this time? And where the hell are you from?”

I spoke as calmly as I could, considering everything I wished to ask and learn, it was clear that patience would be the best avenue at this point. “I’m from another place, another … world, I believe. I came back to see if I could do it. I like it here. I like the snow. I live in Louisiana.”

Riley dramatically dropped her bottom with a thump onto the cushioned booth seat. “Oh … my … God! I know who you are! Shit, shit shit! You’re screwing with the Portals! You can’t be screwing around with the Portals. It’s dangerous … to you and a whole lot of other people!”

“What is she talking about?” I tried to hide the irritation raising in my gut and watched Daisy rush for a glass of water from behind the bar. She returned to pamper Riley before explaining.

“Well, we have several people who came to this world through Portals. They’re all from … movies. Films. When their movie ended, they ended up here. But they can’t go back. Eric, there’s nothing to go back to.”

“I am not from a movie, sweet Daisy.”

“Are you going to bite us?” Riley garbled as she drank the water; that all familiar terror on her mortal face.

Pretty face, mind you, and I will admit, I had thought to take a few tastes this trip. But old witch Glenda had been pretty adamant about not feeding while here. The fact that Bill and I were catapulted back after drinking from the would-be killer seems well beyond Glenda’s powers. Witchcraft might have nothing to do with Portal. I am banking on the fact that she had simply stumbled onto the phenomenon and that I could master it far more efficiently than she ever will. My foray into this experiment is very secret, even from Pam and most certainly from Glenda. She could be a force to be reckoned with if I am not careful.

The punishment dispensed after our sudden return was most distasteful. Sexual pleasures … the sex was performed by Bill and I … the pleasure was all Glenda’s, I assure you. Not that I dislike sex with older woman … with any woman, in fact … but this witch is ancient. And I thought I was old. The memories of those days with Glenda remind me of another rather unpleasant sensation. One I haven’t felt for over a thousand years. Nausea.

“I will not … bite you, Riley.”

“He said he’s not from a movie,” Daisy’s brows were twisted. The darling was trying to figure this all out too.

“No,” Riley gulped the last of her water. “He’s from a television show. HBO. TrueBlood. You heard about that.”

“That silly vampire thingy?” Daisy snorted and I control my desire to prove to her that vampires do indeed exist. She noticed my expression, shrugged an apology and continued. “But, that show hasn’t ended yet, right? There’s another season scheduled, right? So maybe … maybe … oh shit … maybe Eric can move back and forth through the Portals safely. Maybe it won’t hurt anything … since his story isn’t over yet and all.”

“Over? I will end?” I did not like hearing this. I paced before the women.

“Let’s get back to the point,” Riley sighed. “Okay, so you found a Portal and you managed to come back to Vermont because you like the snow. Why here? Why my Pub?”

I shrugged. “My dear lady, I came here because I feel a kinship with Daisy.”

“Daily has a boyfriend, buddy. A big, strong, very protective boyfriend who –”

“Who does not want to tangle with me. It is not romantic interest, Riley. I am merely curious. I came here already fed and without need of blood. I came to learn and observe. Nothing more. If my calculations are correct, I should be leaving very soon and …”

I was suddenly in my office at Fangtasia. “Damn!”

DAISY

“That’s what he did last time. Poof! Just like that,” I said, watching Riley’s shocked expression. “At first I thought he was one of the ghosts. He came with another guy, a dark haired dude named –”

“Bill? Bill Compton?”

I nodded.

“Jesus, Daisy. That man’s a vampire! We can’t have a vampire popping in anytime he pleases, God sakes!”

“And, pray tell, how are we gonna stop him?” Oh damn. I’d have to fess up to Cory about this, maybe even have a talk with John too. Portals were nothing to be messing with and this could really be a problem.

Why the hell can’t I have a normal life like everyone else, damnit!

ANTONY

I have not been well. I am not ill, but something has been playing inside my mind to cause great havoc in my life. It began long ago with dreams I was able to promptly forget when I woke. With Claudia at my side, waking had become an even more pleasurable event. But lately … lately …

They are always the same nightmares, images of my other life mixed ominously with those of this life. Over the past weeks they have intensified and sleep had become the battlefield I prayed to avoid. But alas, every man must sleep and my work required that I be as rested and sharp as possible. Efforts to control the night terrors began with my own devices; watching late night television until I became bored into sleep; reading books of no interest to me; walking in the cold to tire myself before climbing between the sheets with my woman … even using my woman’s body to help exhaust me (by far the most enjoyable activity I could choose). But alas, nothing stopped the demons from visiting my slumber.

Claudia was aware of my difficulties long before I sought her advice, simply stating that my sleep had not been restful. She is a healer, a magician with assisting where a physical health need is concerned. But even with that, she had little to offer. I no longer enjoy coffee or Coca Cola. I do not use alcohol to make myself tired. I am to relax myself and clear my mind … something she describes as meditation and this does not sit well with my nature … but I have dutifully tried.

Nothing has worked and this plague has grown worse. I have been able to force myself to wake before I bellow in terror … but what I must do then is leap from the warm mattress and find solitude to push the images away. This night … I was not fast enough. I was lured by the comfort of an old friend.

I had done everything I could think of to fatigue myself. At nine tonight after my shift at the monitors, another very quiet day at the Inn, I dressed warmly in a fleece-lined jacket and jogged around the pond several times as I’d often seen Biebe do. I then came into the cottage and ate a sumptuous meal that Claudia had prepared for me. It was a heavy meal and I sipped a concoction of whisky (my secret) and chamomile tea before indulging in a rather lengthy, playful conversation with my woman that had slowly, lusciously become very erotic in nature. I took Claudia to our bed and made love to her, not once but twice and blessedly fell into a comfortable, very deep sleep.

And the dream came to me again. In that dream I woke and sat at the edge of the mattress, carefully tucking the blankets around Claudia so as not to disturb or chill her. I rose to get a glass of water and the door opened. There stood Lucius Vorenus in full Roman armor and wearing a smile of a long lost brother.

The joy that welled in my heart was overwhelming and I nearly wept. “Vorenus! You are here!”

“I am, Sir.”

I looked to the foot of the bed and there lay my sword. Lifting it I hefted the weapon, reveling in the balance and weight of it, a sensation I had not felt for a very long time. I swung it, sweeping it through the air several times before laughing a hardy laugh and passing it into Vorenus’ hands.

I then placed the sharpened tip to my breast and watched as my friend and brother braced the grip against his armor. Settling my hands upon his ample shoulders I looked into his eyes … then plunged myself onto the sword, running it through to my beating heart.

As I dropped a million miles to the floor I watched Vorenus’ solemn expression. I felt the heat of my blood pulsing from the gaping wound, the life drift from my body and as I floated up … up … I looked down upon Claudia, sleeping peacefully in the bed.

And I bellowed my terror, loud and long.

Waking amidst the sound of my own cries, Claudia sought to comfort me but in my confusion I threw her aside, nearly from the bed before I realized it had been the same night terror that had been haunting me since the moment of my arrival. It had this time reached my very essence and I was lost to it.

Claudia screamed my name again and again and finally I was able to blink and see the truth of the moment. Grasping her close I sobbed and shuddered, gasped for breath and holding her as the lifeline she is.

“Antony, oh God, Antony. This can’t continue!”

I could not speak. My heart and my mind were sorely torn between two worlds and I struggled to feel nothing but the one in my arms. Warm and sturdy. My Claudia.

“Antony, my love,” she whispered through her own tears. “Tell me about these nightmares. You’ve got to tell me. There has to be some way to help you get through this but only if you talk about it. Please, talk to me.”

I nodded, slid into sweats and watched her wrap her beautiful body into a thick robe. I could see bruises growing on her tender, fair flesh and I knew I had caused them. Shame triggered my fear further. In my time, it was of no consequence to beat a woman. But in this time, the time I live within … it is a dishonorable, appalling thing, a weight I cared not to carry. But now, I must.

My beautiful Claudia took my hand, leading me to the living room where she served me brewed tea and sat patiently until I could gather myself, smooth my breathing and clear my thoughts. It was my intention to lie, for the indignity of the foolish dream was a disgrace. It is how I died and it was honorable. To hate it, fear the reliving of it was … unacceptable as the General I had been.

But looking into her eyes, a lie would not form. She was correct. This had to end.

“My dear one,” I said, looking down at my still trembling hands. “It is the same dream every time. The end of my life. And I must admit, when the dream begins I find myself longing for that life … but not for long. Claudia, I do not wish to return to that time … whether I am to die again and again or not … whether I am to relive it all again and again or not … I do not desire such things. My life is here and now with you. And I swear with all my heart, nothing … nothing … would ever make me desire to return. Nothing would please me more than to never relive that again. Nothing.”

My fear since the beginning of the nightmares has always been that one of my brothers or Claudia herself would imagine I wanted to return through the Portal, but I had no interest in such a thing. I have been enthralled and amazed by this world since the moment of my arrival. When John was pulled through his Portal and taught the ominous reality of such desires, I was not surprised or concerned. To go back would be to admit failure and I had not failed. My life in this world is not a failure. Why was I to endure this agony? I dropped my face into my hands and gasped. “I can not bear this much longer, Claudia. Is there a drug? A remedy? Even a curse that will take this from me?”

Claudia’s eyes were now dry and clear. “I don’t know, but maybe there is some help.” And I watched her dial her cell phone. Within moments Biebe was at our door and I felt even more humiliated by my predicament.

JOHN

It was just after midnight when Claudia called. Lucky for me, Riles and Nathan were sound asleep so I slipped out of the apartment to answer my cell. What she said gave me the fucking willies. This wasn’t good. No way, no how. “I’ll be right there.”

The trot along the paths from the Inn to the pond-side cottage isn’t really that far, but the temperature had dropped to fifteen below so I was really hoofing it. I expected it to be bad, but not like I saw.

Claudia answered the door and I thought I’d fucking jump out of my skin. Her eye was black, bruises were showing at her neck where the pink robe was wrapped tight, and there was dried blood at her lip she probably didn’t even know was there.

“Motherfucker,” I gasped and gripped her elbow. Her eyes shot to the steps. Antony was up there in their apartment. Was she afraid or concerned? Hell if I could tell. “Jesus, Claudia. He did all this?”

“It was a nightmare, John. A terrible one. One he’s been suffering with for almost a year now.”

“Huh?” I was preoccupied with dabbing the blood at her mouth with my handkerchief. “What nightmare?”

“His death.”

Okay. This was even worse than I thought. I groaned, pushed a hand through my hair and thought a minute. “Honey, go on over to my place, stay with Riles and Nathan tonight. I’ll handle this.”

“Hell no. I’m not going anywhere, John.” She had turned and started up the steps and I snagged her hand.

“Come on. It’ll be safer. I’ll sit with him tonight. I can handle him.”

She grinned. “No, you can’t. Trust me on this, John. I just need you to talk with us. We have to figure this out. It’s killing him to deal with this.”

Damn, I could see the tears mounting in her eyes. In the apartment, Antony was sitting on the sofa, his head in his hands and shaking like a leaf. “Hey man. You okay?”

“No.”

“Talk. I’m listening.” I dragged off my coat and leaned against the wall with my arms crossed. Before long, I was sitting, starting to shake myself. If the man had been suffering like this since he arrived through his Portal, I sure never knew about it. He was way tougher than I thought. “Wow,” I groaned. “Shit. Well, I know Colin and Hando went through something like this. Most likely so did Maximus. But they managed to get through it without anything this bad. Kennedy died before he came through the Portal, but his wasn’t a violent death.”

“I’ve been researching,” Claudia said, holding Antony’s hand and looking like a beat-up little girl at his side.

“Researching what?”

She shrugged. “The effects of battle fatigue … post traumatic syndrome … near death experiences. Nothing seems to fit this scenario though. I’m not sure what to do.”

“Well,” I ran a hand down my chin. “You’re not a psychiatrist, Claudia. You’re not trained for this. And … it’s not like we can call in a pro, can we?”

Antony’s head had dropped back and his eyes had closed. He’d said nothing since divulging his nightmares.

“But,” I said and his head jerked up. “I think there’s someone who might be able to help.” I pulled out my cell and started to dial. “It’s only ten on the west coast.”

“Maximus?” Antony said and I could see his embarrassment.

“Hey, it’s a place to start, man. He’s good at this kinda stuff. Trust me.”

Within minutes it was arranged. God sakes, it was like Maximus was expecting the call. Antony and Claudia would be flying to California in the morning. I crashed on the couch and they slept in the bedroom without any further incident … if they slept at all, that is. At six AM sharp, they were dressed and packed and ready. I went to explain things to my wife and get the car.

“Where the hell have you been all night, John Biebe?” Riles snapped when I walked in.

“At the cottage. Antony’s had some … trouble.”

“Security trouble?” Now her anger had shifted to fear.

“No, something … uh … personal. He’s having a rough time with … nightmares. About the end … in his own time.”

Her expression again changed, this time to concern. “Oh God. Is he okay?”

“I don’t think so.” I forked a few sausages and wrapped them in a slice of bread then collected my car keys from the hook near the door. “I’m taking them to the airport. Maximus thinks he can help.”

She was on her feet and rushing to the bedroom. “Just wait two seconds while I throw on some clothes. I’ll ride with you.”

“Ah … no baby. Let’s give the man a little dignity, okay? Don’t tell anyone about this.”

She nodded, eyes wide and worried. “What about security?”

“Terry’s sending someone to cover until Antony can get back. We’ll be fine. Roger’s manning the monitors. Now,” I kissed her and ran my palm down to her flat belly. “You just stay here and take care of yourself … and this little one. Nathan too. We’ll talk when I get home.”

I left her standing in the middle of the living room, her palm where mine was and Nathan’s arms wrapped around her knee.