LIZBETH

Let me introduce myself. My name is LizBeth Annalinda Compton, and I'm not actually sure how I feel about being a part of these chronicles. But, it seems a though I am. My admiration for Riley and deep feelings for John have made me a part of all this. And so, I will tell you my story.

Several years ago I met a gorgeous, remarkable man. He was scruffy and rugged and I liked his look. Never in my life had I dated or been involved with such man. The truth is, I'm a rich kid from the extreme right side of the tracks. My family's money goes back as far as the Declaration of Independence. It has survived the great depression and several near disasters, and what it had also done is create entire generations of men and woman who have little knowledge of what the real world is like.

Of course, I wasn't the first Compton to take a sidetrack into the unknown and explore a relationship with a man like John Biebe. I was simply the first to be changed by it. This isn't the place to describe that relationship and how horribly I ruined it. But it is the place to explore what he had taught me.

John is his own man. No matter how hard I tried to change him, he was always true to his soul. Had he ever realized why I was trying so hard, things might have turned out differently. I'd never fallen in love before John, and I needed him to fit into my life. That meant dressing him in an acceptable fashion that would make my parents sit up and notice. I loved John in jeans and flannels, sweats and dirty tennis shoes, but that would never fly in the Compton family. And I wanted him in the Compton family so much I could taste it. He simply had to be accepted. Needless to say, I did everything wrong.

When it ended with a resounding crash, I was devastated. Over time, as I suffered, pushing my imagination into every possible way to regain his love and attention, I discovered that several things had changed about me. Fundamental things that governed my heart. I left daddy's business and took full control of my own money, focusing it on various charities and important efforts. That is how I became aware of the minister, David Cortland's bachelor auction and the various needs for his shelter. I had no idea John would be there. I mistakenly thought it was my chance. It wasn't.

Over the years after John left me, he had simply disappeared. All my efforts to track him down were thwarted, but when I was diagnosed with cancer, I went all out. I have to admit, I needed him, his strength and compassion, his strong arms and shoulders to cry on. But he was gone. Really gone. My family was not a part of my life any longer, so they never knew of my condition. Well, of course they did know, I doubt there's much they don't know. But we all chose to leave me alone with it.

During that time I learned things about myself I never expected. The experience made me stronger and more resilient at once. And it made me see clearly how alone I was. After the auction I made one last effort to locate John and oddly enough, this time it was suspiciously simple. His name was attached to a Vermont Inn being developed near Mount Mansfield. A single real estate search tracked him down to his phone number and address.

Finding him was easy; discovering that he was married to his perfect soul mate was most certainly not. Into my life walks Kevin Boyer, and of course I thought it was an impossibility. How could I accept the loss of the love of my life only to find the next one? It took weeks for me to accept it.

Kevin isn't John. Where John had always been closed and secretive about his past, Kevin slowly became more and more opened. I knew about his childhood and family in New Hampshire before I even had a chance to get up the nerve to talk about my own disowned family and the ramifications of it.

Kevin is amazing. He is pure fragility beneath the toughest exterior I've ever seen and trust me; I've seen many a tough exterior. He is powerful and joyous and honest to a fault. And I knew that I'd seen sides of the man no one other than his late wife knew about. Confessing my cancer was letting loose my last defense and it appeared to have backfired terribly. He was shocked, afraid, and I just ran.

Riley brought me home where I belong. Home to Vermont and the project Kevin was working on. Back to my heart which I'd left pumping in Kevin's chest and I was afraid. But not too afraid.

I walked into the bedroom of his small cottage and sat on the old chair, just watching him sleep. I thought about all the times we'd made love on that bed, in the very chair I was slumped on. And I chose at that moment to release him if that was what he really wanted, what he truly needed.

He stirred and turned bleary eyes to me, his hand reached out and I went, lying tight at his side and we cried.

KEVIN

Was I dreaming? She was in my arms, but I could see the big x-ray envelope sitting near the chair. What the fuck was I going to do? I knew at that moment, as I had every moment since I buried Allie that I would never be able to survive it again. What the fuck was God trying to do to me?

Nightmarish images soared through my brain. Hospitals, the smell that made me feel sick, chemotherapy, needles, pills. Choosing a casket and the hardest part of it all, watching it lower into the ground. Allie and I had no kids, just each other. Then I had nothing but my work.

Thank all fucking heaven for Biebe and his wife and their project. Their strange, amazing project. They'll never know how close I came to ending my own life before I got the call to manage the construction for them. How much it's meant to me. How much they mean to me. It's been a tough year. Today is Allie's birthday and I was wondering if LizBeth was her gift to me.

She always did that, you know. Gave me a gift on her birthday. Maybe Allie knew something I didn't. Maybe she knew I was what LizBeth needed. Maybe she's what I need, I don't know. But how on earth can I go through all this again?

"LizBeth," I said into her soft hair. "This is gonna be hard. The hardest thing I ever tried to do, cause this time, I know the worst that can happen."

"You don't have to do it," I could feel her tears on my neck. "We can just say goodbye and - "

"Too late, sweetheart. Way too fucking late."

RILEY

Things seemed good between Kevin and LizBeth after that. Seemed is the operative word. It was almost as though they were stepping gingerly over rocks in a creek. It wasn't their love that seemed questionable; it was their tentativeness to move ahead. Needless to say, we got the surprise of a lifetime six weeks later. After watching them do a strange, unreadable emotional dance, we were shocked when they announced their plans to marry. Thrilled, but shocked all the same.

We'd been opened for a month and were already almost completely booked. The restaurant was hopping every single night and it took an act of Congress to get me out of there to sit with John at their table for the announcement.

"Queen Biebe! I see you finally got your crown," Kevin teased as I tugged my paper chef's toque off and tucked it under my chair, attempting to fluff my hair into some semblance of a style.

We hadn't seen hide nor hair of Kevin or LizBeth in two weeks, they'd gone off for a vacation after the opening and final touches were taken care of. Final touches Kevin wouldn't let go unwatched or un-inspected. They were glowing and I turned to John, who gave me that concerned glance he'd adopted since the moment I started working fifteen hours a day.

"Yeah, she got her crown, now how to get it off of her is the issue," John grunted.

"You do look tired, Riley, maybe it's time for you and John to go on that honeymoon you never had." LizBeth was grinning ear to ear and I put two and two together.

"Did you get married?" I squealed.

"Without a big wedding? Never," said LizBeth and Kevin took her hand. "When can we book the Inn? We'll wait no more than a month."

Plans ensued feverishly and John sat quiet, watching me and shaking his head. Later that night he broached the subject with far less than the careful approach I'm sure he intended.

"You can't do it, Riles. Fuck! Look at you, you're gonna drop before you even start with that wedding. Get someone else to do the work. Take a break, God sakes, before you have no choice."

"John," I pulled a big tee shirt over myself and climbed into bed. Every muscle in my body ached. "You need to face it. This is our life now. This is what I do."

"What? Work till you kill yourself. I'm not standing for it, baby. Hire more help. Put more responsibility on Andy and Monna. I don't give a fuck what you do, but this can't go on. Fuck, we haven't even . . ." He charged out of the bedroom and I heard the shower start. It's what John does when he knows he's pressing too hard, spray away his frustrations with steamy water.

And he was right. We hadn't. Sex was one of those luxuries I just couldn't find the energy to get into for weeks. I'm not a big one for a quick fuck, but maybe I needed to compromise. Obviously he was needing it. What I couldn't understand, was why I wasn't.

I tried so hard not to fall asleep. I swear. I made myself crazy with thinking about all the wedding needs, after all, Kevin and LizBeth would be our first wedding at the Inn and it promised to be covered by several newspapers. It had to be perfect, for them and for the Inn. But damned if I didn't drift to sleep before he got out of the bathroom. I felt him gently crawl into the bed and hug me tenderly, but then I just fell into a deep slumber that demanded everything.

As if he'd prophesied it, the very next morning I woke up sick as a dog, looking worse than Sophie who followed me for hours back and forth to the bathroom while I puked my guts out. John was attentive, biting back his I told you so's, and the kitchen ran perfectly without me.

Two days later, afraid to say I wasn't feeling any better, I dressed and went down to the kitchen. Most of the smells made me nauseous but I fought my way through it. That evening we sat in our suite with Kevin. LizBeth had gone to New York to find a wedding dress. I felt so bad about that, she had asked me to join her but I had to work. Where was my life going? Was it running away without me? But what the hell could I do about it anyway? It was what I wanted, right? Time to pay the piper.

I carried beers for the guys and ginger ale for me back to the living room where John and Kevin were talking. Even in my miserable state of mind and body, I could sense that it was a serious conversation, one I'm sure those two never had before. They were talking about children and my heart ached for John. I handed over the beers and snuggled into a comfy chair across from them to watch and listen and learn.

"It's not that important I guess," Kevin was saying.

"Well, man it is. Every man wants someone to follow him, carry on his name or his blood, ya know. But really Kev, it just ain't what it's cracked up to be."

Kevin eyed John. He knew John had three sons he never sees but gratefully never asked more about it. "How so?"

"Well, first there's pregnancy. Yeah, yeah. Your woman looks great, glows and all that, but man, the fucking hormones! She'll just as soon bite off your balls than . . . well, ya know." He caught my expression, thank God and eased up.

"And," John continued. "It fucking changes your whole life! Every stinking thing has to change. And it's not always like you want, I tell you. You gotta watch what you say, when you say it, and that's to your loving bride turned periodic psycho. If you survive the pregnancy, next comes the delivery, Jesus! They say it's something amazing to witness, but trust me Kev; it's like watching someone gut a damned dear. Not pretty and not the best memories I can think of.

"Then you have the crying, yours and the new baby's. The walking all night with a squealing infant on your shoulder cause you don't dare wake the wife, she's in lala land, recovering from something you know damned well you'd have never survived. Shitty diapers, vomit . . . oh, that's called spit up . . . it just smells like a drunk puked on you. And all this time, you can fucking forget about getting laid."

Kevin was laughing, I wasn't.

"As the years crawl by, you gotta watch what you say 'cause they'll repeat it, you gotta worry about their grades, their future and find time to play with them when you have none, you're too busy working and saving for a good college, which by the way, they may not even want go to. Trust me. Not having kids is not all that bad a proposition."

I was astounded. I never knew any of this about John.

"Well," Kevin said. "I guess there's a difference between not having kids and not having a choice about it. We can't risk it. I can't risk her. The cancer . . ."

We were all silent.

"I know, I know," John said softly and reached a hand out to me. I crawled onto his lap. I knew too. John and I knew about not having a choice. It was different for us, but somehow the same. It made a huge impact on me that John felt that way about babies. Maybe I was lucky to know these things. It made it easier for me, not being able to get pregnant or give him children.

I went to bed long before Kevin left and I cried for LizBeth. I was crying for me too.

JOHN

What the fuck? Life had gotten way too complicated, far tougher than I expected. Riles looked like shit but kept on going. She insisted that she wasn't sick, but I knew better. And she just kept working like a lunatic. I was working my ass off too. I had some fucking idea in my head that things would get easier after we opened. Stupid me, ay? I became everything from concierge to the resident step-and-fetch-it. Handyman when a guest couldn't figure out how to light the fucking fireplace and bell boy, carrying luggage for the lazy rich fuckers staying with us. And I had to smile through all of it.

As I sat in the suite, hiding from just about everyone, I was trying to locate the number of the company who'd laid the asphalt for the parking lot. It had to be expanded; turns out that a restaurant that seats two hundred needed parking for three hundred. Riles called it 'turning over tables', I called it a fucking inconvenience I didn't feel like dealing with. But with a loud crack of thunder, a storm rolling over the peak of the mountain at us, I started to feel a crack inside myself.

I wasn't sure what the hell I needed, but I needed something and I needed it now. I eyed the laptop and wondered. What would happen if I contacted a Sister and had a little fun? Nope, couldn't do that, I'm married now. But the fun part seemed interesting. I booted up and wrote a sweet e-mail to Riley like I used to write her all the time. The kind of e-mail telling her how much I miss her, want her. But I never sent it, deleting it letter by letter, realizing she never had time to check e-mails anyway.

I sighed and rubbed my eyes as the rain pounded against the windows. Then an idea sparked. A honeymoon. Riley and I needed a honeymoon. I got on the internet and looked for the perfect place to take my overworked new wife, a place with sun and surf, great music and most importantly, a huge bed where I could roll her over and over till she was exhausted from loving me. After all, that was really what I needed, to make love to my baby.

That and a change in my perspective. I took on the Inn, loved it while we suffered and struggled to make it happen. It was time to love it again, cranky guests, tired wife and all. If I wanted things to change, I had to start with myself.

I made reservations at a resort in Hawaii for right after Kevin's wedding and stretched my arms high. It was the first time I was smiling in a long time. I'd tell her after dinner. She had promised not to stay and close the kitchen that night, so we might actually have an evening alone for a change.

Of course, it didn't happen that way. It wasn't Riles who dropped the ball, it was me. Well, actually it was the party of sixteen guests who arrived three days early for their reservations and we had no rooms for them. They insisted they were right, I knew they weren't, but smiled nice and made arrangements for an Inn down in Stowe until their rooms were vacated. They were pissed and stormed out into the rain complaining that they'd never come to the 1876 Manor again as long as they lived.

I glanced down at Sigrine, the desk manager and shrugged. She giggled.

"Welcome to the world of Hospitality Management, John."

When I got up to the suite, Riles was sitting at her desk staring at her laptop. Fuck, I was pissed that I hadn't sent her that e-mail. She was so engrossed in whatever she was doing; she didn't even hear me come in. I walked closer, looked over her shoulder and noted that she was crying, tears covering her face. Another turn got me the reason. She quickly switched off the computer, but not before I could see that she was having a chat with fucking Wigand! I was fuming.

Ladies and gents, this is where things really went down hill. I will never fucking learn how to handle my jealousy. She turned to me, tears in her eyes and I didn't give a flying fuck.

"What the fuck are you doing? Talking to him?" I shouted, but she answered quietly.

"I needed to ask him something, John. Jeff is a very educated man and he knows things - "

"Thanks! Thanks a whole fucking lot, baby!" I spit out and left.

Inside our suite, things went from bad to worse. For then next twelve days, I slept on the coach, at fist because I wanted to be as far from her as I dared, then because she wouldn't let me within arm's reach. Outside, in the public areas of the Inn no one would have ever guessed that we weren't the perfect couple. There I had opportunities to reach out and touch her, wrap an arm around her and tug her close. Man, I felt like fucking hell about it all, but she wouldn't even let me explain. What was there to explain anyway? I'm a fucking prick. News? Fuck no.

As Kevin and LizBeth's wedding came closer, I decided it was time to fix things; after all there was a trip to Hawaii I wanted to take Riley on. She still looked bad, tossing her cookies every day and every night. I guessed it wasn't the flu anymore. It was stress and I certainly wasn't helping things any.

We'd gotten into a sickening rut of storming out whenever one of us tried to talk. Even now that I wanted to get it over and fixed, I just couldn't forget the tears in her eyes while chatting with her ex-lover, (note, I kindly didn't say old). I thought about contacting Wigand and asking him point blank what they were chatting about, but thought better of it. Who knows what would come out of my mouth.

I went to the professional kitchen, after all where else would you find Riley, right? She wasn't cooking on the line or expediting trays going out to the dining room. I checked her office. Empty.

I stood at the end of the line of hot, flaming and bubbling equipment and shouted over the sound of the exhaust system.

"Andy! Andy! Where's Riley?"

To my surprise, he walked away from the broiler, thongs in hand and a pretty pissy look on his face.

"I sent her outa here, mate," he glared.

"What? Where is she?" I was starting to panic.

"Bloody resting, I hope! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

I blinked and clenched my teeth as well as my fists.

"Start takin' care of her, ya bloody prick." And he turned back to the steaks on the broiler, ignoring me.

I ran up to the suite, three floors that reminded me that my leg was still not a hundred percent. No Riley. I checked the left tower, went to the top floor, no Riley. I checked all the public areas, lobby, lounge, even the quiet breakfast room. Nothing. Porch? No.

I trotted to the stables, wondering if she'd finally left me. Really left me. I wanted to cry, but just kept searching. I circled the property to the lake, there were guests picnicking there, but no Riley. Finally I went to the Bear's grave, sat and silently begged Granpa Luke for help. Christ, usually he was pretty vocal, but obviously I was alone with this one.

With a groan I followed the path back to the Inn and there, alone in the shade of the gazebo, sat my wife. My love. My Riley. I stood for a moment to collect my thoughts, making sure I was going to really talk with her. Get her to talk with me. I had a plan, hoped it would work. I stepped up into the shade and sat across from her. There were tears in her eyes and she wouldn't look at me.

"Hey baby, I got a surprise for you."

"Yeah?" She was looking at her hand, at the wedding ring there. Fuck, panic went into overdrive, pressing my heart almost into palpitations.

"Yeah. I'm taking you away, baby. We're going to Hawaii." Even I didn't sound excited about it.

"And what's that going to fix, John?"

"Look at me, Riles. Please."

She finally turned and faced me; her eyes were blank but worried too.

"I'm sorry about the Wigand thing. I'm not good about that shit, you know that."

"Yes, I do. But John, do you know you talk in your sleep?"

I blinked.

"Do you know what you talk about, John?" Her eyes were sad.

I shook my head.

"Natalie and Darcy and - "

"Hey, hey, wait. I'm fucking sleeping, baby. I don't know what the hell I'm dreaming, I can't . . ." Fuck I was no better than her, was I? I did remember the dreams. Some hot, some just holding and talking to past lovers. What the fuck? Was I supposed to stay awake for the rest of my life now?

She was silent, still fingering her ring.

"All right. Yes, I dream about them. I dream about all of them, Darce and Nat and Reags. Hell, Riles, I even dream about Donna. But I don't contact them, God sakes."

She shot to her feet and I reached for her arm, pulled her tight.

"No more running away. We both gotta stop this shit. Riley, I love you!"

"I know," she whispered.

I tugged her back to the bench and held her close. "It's time to fix this, baby. We leave for Hawaii the week after the wedding. Three weeks together. And don't even try to tell me you can't go. You need rest, Riley. And we need a honeymoon."

She pulled away and sighed, still not looking at me and it was driving me nuts. What the hell else could I do?

She stood slowly, I could tell her knees were shaking and I supported her arm. "Listen John," she said, looking out at the garden around the gazebo. "I'm leaving for a few days, going to New York with LizBeth."

Where's my fucking head? Up my ass? "No, you're going to see that old fuck, aren't you?" I shouted like an idiot.

"I leave in an hour. We'll talk when I get back. About Hawaii, about everything," she said calmly then turned and walked away.

I sat there shaking like a leaf. By the time I got back to the Inn, LizBeth was carrying Riley's suitcase and tucking it into the trunk.

"What the fuck is going on?" I glared at her like she was the fucking devil or something.

"I have my final gown fitting and finally Riley's coming to see it." LizBeth too wouldn't look me in the eye.

"Is that the truth?"

"Yes." She got behind the wheel as Riley climbed into the Porsche. I ran around to her.

"Riley." It was all I could say. Her name. She opened the door and stood then kissed me. It was first time in weeks I'd felt her lips and nothing short of terror shot through my veins.

"Don't leave me, baby. Oh fuck, don't leave me."

She didn't say a word.

LIZBETH

Somewhere over the last few weeks the world had altered. It stopped being about me and my wedding to the man I loved, and became completely centered on Riley.

When we told them about our marriage plans, I was shocked at how bad she looked. I did my best to keep everything in perspective but understandably, as a cancer survivor I was thinking the worse. It took several weeks before she talked to me, but Riley too was thinking the worse. She was struggling with how to deal with her thriving business, her overprotective and occasionally emotionally volatile husband, and her growing fears.

I tried to convince her that John's jealousy issues were my fault, but she knew far more about his past than I. And besides, it wasn't his jealousy she was concerned about; it was his reaction should the worst come to pass.

Riley did the one thing a sick person should absolutely never do. She got on the web and began researching. See, Riley was long ago told that she would never again be able to conceive a child. After a miscarriage, I suspect caused by her abusive first husband, she discovered that one of her ovaries was corrupted by a serious case of endometriosis and the second ovary was apparently never functioning from the very beginning.

All of this would be a mute point, except that soon after we starting planning the wedding, Riley noticed that she had missed a period. Over the counter pregnancy tests repeatedly came up negative, but her weakness, exhaustion and continued bouts of nausea concerned me. I tried to be light hearted and calm about it, but with the absence of her second period, Riley was beside herself. Another negative pregnancy test and a huge argument with John brought it all to a head.

She'd apparently gotten caught having an IM session with her old friend and unfortunately ex-lover, a scientist she hoped could tell her something positive.

John went ballistic and the scientist friend demanded that she seek council with a specialist immediately. It took me six days, but I finally secured an appointment with a doctor my specialists recommended. Having conveyed Riley's symptoms and my concerns, my own doctor fired even more fears by insisting that I have Riley looked at A.S.A.P.

God I hated to lie to John, and technically it wasn't a lie. I did have a final fitting scheduled and most likely before we returned to Vermont, Riley would see my dress. I had to be evasive; she had begged me to keep our real reasons for the trip silent. It all couldn't have come at a worse time, and I also chose to keep the information from Kevin. He didn't need to face this anymore than John yet. We had to just go and see what we could see.

JOHN

I was fucking losing my mind! I paced the suite till long after dark, ignored the phone, only checking to see if it was Riley or, God help me, that fucking Wigand. I sat at my laptop thinking I needed to talk to someone. I searched for the Family I'd turned my back on to marry my lover, even though I didn't imagine there was anyone who'd even talk to me. No one was on line. I thought I'd explode, so I started drinking, figuring that if I got drunk, I might not be able to imagine
Riley . . . with . . .

Bong!

I'd just sat back down at the computer when Natalie popped up, her IM window bright through my fucking tear filled eyes.

Hey John! She wrote.

Hey sweetheart, how are you?

Great! How's married life treating you?

Fuck, did she have to ask that? I remembered all the times she held me while I worried about Riley. God sakes, I needed to talk.

Bad. God sakes, Nat. I'm in so much trouble.

What did you do? She asked pretty fast, already knowing it was my fault.

I don't even know where to start. But Nat, I think she's left me.

There was a long silence then the phone started to ring. As I was searching for it across the room, Nat's IM screen bonged again. Pick up the phone, John. It's me.

"Hey," I groaned.

"You okay?" She asked.

"Crying like a fucking girl. What the fuck am I gonna do?" I was pacing, making my leg hurt even more than usual.

"Well, you're going to calm down and tell me what happened."

I did. I told her that Riles was working herself to death, that somehow we lost track of the couple we were before the Inn opened and all about my blow up over Wigand. I told her that I was trying to take Riles away, that she needed a break, rest, and I needed a honeymoon but it didn't look like that was gonna happen after all. And I cried. Yeah, like a girl.

Natalie, always the thinker, was silent for a while. "John, you said she's sick. What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know, stomach shit, probably an ulcer from everything this fucking place and I put her through. Throwing up every time I look at her."

"Do you think she just might be pregnant?"

I sat on the sofa and rubbed my eyes. "No, sweetheart. That's not possible."

"You never know, John. Maybe the energy has changed for you and Riles. You guys are no longer playing the Game."

"That's not it, honey. Riley couldn't have kids before she crossed. That's not what's going on. Fuck, I wish it was, but it isn't." How much can a grown man cry? Fuck, my sleeve was soaked.

"Okay," she said slowly and I could feel the caution in her voice. "Listen John. Riley loves you. Completely. Think about everything she gave up for you, all the crap you both struggled through after your marriage. She's not leaving you, baby."

"Right," I groaned. "So what's this shit with Wigand?"

"John, please don't panic, but I need you to think hard about that. Jeff Wigand is a scientist, right? Maybe she really did need to ask him some questions. Maybe she was worried about . . ."

"What the fuck's wrong with Riles?" It was Colin, booming on the extension. Obviously sitting and listening to one side of the conversation wasn't keeping him content any longer.

"Oh crap, now I've got two scared puppies," Nat whined. "All I was saying is that Riles might have wanted his opinion about why she wasn't getting better, that's all."

"He's not a medical doctor!" Both Col and I shouted.

"So, you two would rather believe that Riley would choose Jeff over John? I give up," and she hung up her receiver.

"That ain't happenin' mate." Colin said. "She'd never leave you for him."

So I was left to wonder what the fuck she wanted to know from the old man . . . and if she was with him that moment.

RILEY

I knew I was making myself crazy. But even though I couldn't possibly get pregnant, all those negative pregnancy tests only strengthened my sense that something really bad was wrong. Having spent that time with LizBeth at her oncologist's office didn't help. All I kept thinking was . . . cervical cancer . . . ovarian cancer . . . uterine cancer. But as she drove me away from the Inn I realized I'd already come to grips with the fact that it could really be happening to me. How bad was it going to be? Would I die? And what about John? How was I ever going to be able to give him this kind of news?

"That's enough, Riley!" LizBeth shouted at me before we entered the airport. "You have to start realizing that there's as good a chance it isn't something terrible, as there is that it could be."

"Say the word, LizBeth."

She blinked, reached for my suitcase and dragged both hers and mine inside the door. "Cancer," she said calmly. "It's not a sin, it's a disease, and there is still a good chance that you don't have it. Now stop this shit before I have to bitch slap you in public."

I broke out in hysterics; it was the funniest thing I ever heard come out of her mouth.

"You think I'm kidding?" She grinned. "I always thought slapping the shit out of another woman would be a blast. And if it will knock some sense into you, I'd be thrilled for the opportunity. Now, here's you ticket."

On the plane I pulled out a notebook I always carry in my big purse and I started a letter to John. It wasn't a farewell letter or something I wanted him to read after they bury me or anything quite that morbid. It was just my observations about how badly I'd been handling everything thus far. Of all the people in my life, no one had ever loved me the way John did. He watched over me and supported me. He had never done anything to stop me, but had often reprimanded me for overdoing. I honestly didn't know why I hadn't talked about all my fears with him. After all we'd been through to keep the Inn and get it opened and running smoothly, I just wanted to make it perfect, for him, for me, for all of us.

So again, I hadn't seen the signs. John never flipped out until I pushed him really far and then went one step further. Why couldn't I tell him why I was talking to Jeff?

Oh yeah, his jealousy, that's why. Well, if he can be jealous, I can be private. Right? Wrong. Dead wrong. I knew I had to apologize and do it in a big way. Writing a letter wasn't going to cut it. Then suddenly, like a ray of sunshine I realized that LizBeth was right. Maybe it wasn't cancer or anything else so God awful. What was I going to do then? No apology on earth could make up for how I'd treated him. How I'd shut him out. He was never going to forgive me for the past few months, I just knew it.

The next morning I sat in my paper examination gown and listened to the nurse explain all the tests they were going to do. My heart actually shuddered and all I wanted was John. How the hell did I think I was going to get through this without him? I was awful! I hadn't even called him the night before. Not because I wanted to punish him. I was just afraid I'd say too much and terrify the hell out of him.

After a standard pelvic exam, some blood letting and a few drops of pee in a cup, I lay there and waited . . . and waited . . . and waited more. I looked at my watch. When did they plan to do all the shit they intended to do? The scrapping and the prodding, the freezing (oh God!) and the . . . other stuff I didn't even want to think about. Where were the ultrasound equipment and the nurses? The rubber gloves and the needles? And where, oh God, where was John?

I wondered what he was doing that moment. Was he driving himself nuts thinking I was with Jeff? In a way, I'd rather him thinking that, than knowing what I was really doing. Waiting in an oncologist's office for ten thousand tests that they never seemed to come and do.

The second hour found me pacing the room on cold bare feet. As the door opened, I had full intentions of begging whoever walked through it to please get this started before I ran like a terrified rabbit.

LizBeth entered, lifted my clothes off the chair and tossed them to me. "Get dressed Riles. We've got an appointment down the hall."

"What? Are you saying we're at the wrong doctor's?"

"Yup."

"Jesus!" I was pulling on my jeans and really pissed off. "How long is that going to take? Christ, we've wasted all day here! Don't these people keep records?"

"Chill, little mama. Turns out you don't need an oncologist, you need an obstetrician."

"What!"

"You're pregnant, Riley. Let's go," she grinned.

I couldn't move a muscle. "They're wrong. LizBeth, I can't be pregnant."

"Looks like your old doctors were wrong. You are as pregnant as you can be; twelve weeks worth according to the test results."

"But . . . but," I couldn't say anymore without talking about the Game to someone who shouldn't know about it. How was I going to explain that John shoots blanks? I suppose she might believe that he'd had a vasectomy. But now I had another problem. A much bigger one.

If John shoots blanks, how did I get pregnant? Lord knows I'd been with no one but John for over six months. What the fuck was John going to think? And even if he believed it's his baby, he didn't want any babies! Oh my God! The room spun and I woke on the floor.

"LizBeth, I am so fucked!"

KEVIN

Biebe was a fucking basket case. He didn't say much, but I know that look. He thought Riley was cheating on him, I'd bet my bottom dollar that's what was eating at him. It made me laugh. Riley? With anyone other than John? Fucking impossible to even imagine.

So I did what I'm supposed to do. I took him out and got him drunk. Yeah, he was really out there, mumbling about some old fucker Riles was once in love with.

"So, what are you going to do when she gets back?" I asked, pulling the next beer out of his hand and shaking my head at the barmaid.

"What? Fuck, whatever I gotta do to keep her from leaving me again."

"John, technically she hasn't left you unless she doesn't come back. We know she'll be home tomorrow afternoon, thus - "

"No, man. She might go to him again. And again. And again."

"You're fucking snookered, you don't know what the hell you're saying." I paid the tab with a grunt. Christ, that fucker can drink.

"No, man. I do know. Trust me . . . oh fuck!" He covered his mouth and ran to the men's room. Shit, I hope he made it.

JOHN

Hung over. Again. Let's see, that's twice since our wedding. Man, I was doing this badly, and I thought I was ready for it, having gone through marriage once before. Guess a man never really learns anything. We're like dogs. Good dog. Roll over. Speak. Here's your treat. No treat, no rolling over.

I was mad. Mad about what I'd been thinking and really pissed that Riley would let this whole thing get out of hand. That was the last straw. She was never, and I mean never getting out of my sight again.

I showered and did what I could with my bloodshot eyes. Not enough Visine on the fucking planet to make me look like I hadn't been drinking and crying for two days. Crying. Some big tough guy I turned out to be, ay? But that was over. She wasn't going to do this shit anymore. She was staying where I could see her. She was going to Hawaii with me. She was going to get enough rest and she was going to fucking love it . . . dammit.

I chuckled. It even sounded stupid to me. Riley was Riley. I just needed to figure her out, that's all. We had a lifetime to do that. Hell, if I could forgive Donna for fucking around on me, I could certainly forgive Riley. After all, it wasn't like even I hadn't thought about wanting a little of the old times once in a while. Especially lately when I was getting so little. I guess that's what all those fucking dreams were about.

But in the pit of my stomach, I knew she wasn't with Wigand. I couldn't decide what was eating at me, but I was sure it wasn't an infidelity. I did something I never, ever do. I sat at her laptop, logged in as her and checked her saved IM's. There it was. The dreaded conversation with Wigand. I shouldn't read it. And for once I did the right thing, closing the window and her computer. I sat, drank strong coffee and waited for Riley to come home.

"John?"

Riley was shaking my shoulder; I'd fucking fallen asleep at the table.

"Hey, you're back." I rubbed my eyes and wiped drool from my chin.

"Go to bed, John. You look like a fucking brewery fell on you." She went to the bedroom with her suitcase and I followed. Good dog, ay?

I lifted her suitcase to the bed, looking at her face. She looked even worse than she did before she left. Jesus, I'd hoped the few days off would have gotten her a little rest at least. She started unpacking and I just grabbed her, tugging her onto my lap. Shit, I don't even want to think about how much weight she'd lost over the past weeks.

"That's it, baby. I'm taking you to see a doctor first thing tomorrow."

She cuddled on my lap and man, it felt good.

"I just saw a doctor. Well, several doctors," she said softly.

I think my heart stopped for a minute. "In New York?"

"Yes. John, I thought something really bad was wrong with me. So did Jeff. That's what I was chatting with him about. He wanted me to see a specialist as soon as I could."

"Why didn't you tell me all this?" I was too scared to be mad. I can't even begin to tell you what kinda shit was going through my head.

"I didn't want to worry you."

"Nice. Real nice. So you made me even more crazy. Great plan, Riles."

"Yeah, well I realize I was wrong and I'm very sorry."

I couldn't ask. Couldn't even form the words so I just waited, holding her tight, terrified to look in her eyes.

"I'm fine, John. It's not . . . cancer or anything awful at all . . . I just need to rest, that's all."

I reached back and pulled down the blankets. With shaking hands I stripped her and tucked her into bed, then I crawled in beside her and held her as close as I could. "Good, good. Thank God. But Riley, you ever do this shit to me again, I swear, you're gonna wish you were dying."

"John?"

"Yeah baby," I was kissing her shoulder, making my way to her breasts.

"Can we still go to Hawaii?"

I answered with my body, taking her and loving her like never before, doing my best not to imagine what terrible things could have happened.