SOPHIA

I woke slowly, realizing that for the first time in weeks Maximus and I were sleeping several inches apart, not touching at all. Since John’s disappearance, every night, every moment we were together, we had somehow been attached; the soft touch of a fingertip, the intertwining of hands or legs, my head on his chest, his lips in my hair. But this brilliant morning, I could simply sense that he was at my side. Opening my eyes, his form lay still in my peripheral vision and I sighed. Birds chirped outside the window and I felt the beauty of my perfect life. My surprisingly perfect life.

A pregnancy I had yet to celebrate, a child they said I would never carry inside my body. The success of our vineyard. The surety that my husband would not be taken from me. I pressed down the fearful knowledge that once he had actually chosen to leave this life, had sought death at the other end of the mysterious Portal that had brought him here. No longer would he think such things. He is bound to me and I to him. Perhaps something John said was correct … perhaps the Portal is a giving thing, a direct conduit to the ultimate creator and perhaps that creator had helped us plant the child within me to make sure Maximus would remain here. Perhaps … perhaps … perhaps.

A small flutter, like the wings of a butterfly, stirred in my belly. My mind spun with the numbers. How many weeks had the pregnancy progressed? Was I to be feeling the child move yet? Was it possible? Yes, yes, yes.

I turned to take in the beauty of my husband’s body, thick and muscular, covered to his waist by the soft sheets. I slowly slid the fabric to his ankles then straddled his naked flesh, looking down at his fluttering eyes and welcoming smile. And I was inspired to speak a line from a film I had only seen twice. A film I now knew held the essence of the man I love.

“Mmmm, Maximus,” I sighed deliciously. “Mi Gladiatore.”

His hands reached up and cupped my face, pulling me into his all encompassing kiss. “No, my love,” he whispered. “No more. It is time to be a man of this place and time. Time to be the man you need. A man to move with this world fully and without limitations.”

“And how do you wish to change?”

“Acceptance,” and his kiss intensified.

JESSIE

Lachlan awoke early and in a good mood. I still wanted to sleep but he kept doing annoying little things to wake me up; stealing my covers, talking to the cat; humming softly to himself; cracking his ankle over and over again until I finally sat up and smacked him alongside his head with my pillow. He just laughed and grabbed me, holding me close and nuzzling my neck and earlobes as he ran his hands over my body until I finally had no other choice but to give in. It isn’t easy to say no to this man when he’s in the mood, even when I still could use a couple more hours of sleep. Not that I’m complaining, however. It’s not like he didn’t make it all worth my while.

While the day had started out on a high note, by the time mid-morning rolled around I began to see the gray moodiness seeping in once again, coloring Lachlan’s behavior. He has to report back to base the day after tomorrow and I know he’s dreading the final outcome. I’ve been doing my best to be patient during all this, telling myself that it’s all just a temporary setback and that Lach’s going to pull out of it any day now and return to being the sweet, adorable man I fell in love with; it’s not like he’s being mustered out of the service under less than honorable conditions. He has numerous options for the future, but every time I’ve tried to point this out, he just closes up even further.

“It’s more than just that, Jess. Everything’s changed.”

I came up behind him and slipped my arms around his waist and lay my cheek against his back. I could hear his heart beating and I closed my eyes, feeling the heat of his body and wishing that I could wave my hand and make everything better. “It doesn’t mean that it’s a change for the worse, you know. You’ll heal and still be able to fly once you do. Just not fighter jets.”

He pulled away, almost as if he couldn’t break free from me fast enough. “You have such a simple way of looking at life. Too bad that it has no bloody bearing on my reality.”

His words felt like a slap and I cringed, expecting yet another verbal blow. “Babe, I’m not the enemy.”

“No, you’re something else, entirely.”

“Meaning?”

He grabbed his cigarettes from the nightstand and his crutches from the nearby corner. “Meaning that I need you to give me some bloody breathing room.”

I moved aside and watched as he made his way towards the door. My heart wanted to call after him but I clamped down on the urge to do it. Maybe things will improve once we get back to San Diego. Maybe he just needs to deal with everything that’s happened and maybe I’m being unrealistic in expecting him to just snap out of it and quit acting like some angry stranger. Maybe with time …

But maybe I’m kiddng myself.

LACHLAN

Shit. I sure handled that one well, didn’t I?

I know that none of this is Jessie’s fault, yet she’s the one that I’m always lashing out against. Hey, I know that makes me resemble a mean, low life bastard, and I tell myself that I need to take a good look at what I’m doing, but each and every time I think I’ve got it under control, Jess mentions something about the future and I just snap.

When do I ever get to have a say about the direction my life will take? John went on about how this bloody portal gave us all a gift by dropping us into this world, but what kind of gift is it when you realize that all your memories of your life before this time never really happened? That your existence before this was nothing but a story that someone had written and then portrayed on film by some actor? Does that mean that my memories are just the fabrication of some bloke preparing for a movie role?

I can remember the sound of my mother’s voice. Her name was Jeanne Foster before she married my father, and she had red curly hair that she wore down around her shoulders and had blue-green eyes. Her favorite song was “Danny Boy” and even though it drove me nutty as a kid, I can still hear her voice singing if I just close my eyes and remember … My father was named Malcolm Curry and he was six feet tall with dark thick hair and green eyes and worked as a carpenter in between raising livestock at our station in Cloncurry. I had a younger brother by three years named Thomas, he died of rheumatic fever when he was six. He wanted to be a sea captain when he grew up and he liked baked apples for dessert.

And now I learn that none of it was ever real.

Part of me tries to convince myself that it doesn’t matter; that it’s all part of who I am regardless of whether or not it actually happened … and what’s important is what I do with my life now that I’m here. Yeah, sounds nice, but it’s all coming on the heels of accepting the cold hard fact that my military career is over. I have no bloody idea what to do next. I feel like I’m caught up in the current of some swirling river. I can’t break free and swim towards the safety of the bank. Jessie deserves more than a broken down ex-fighter pilot with no prospects for the future and a fabricated past. She deserves someone who is whole and centered and who knows who he is and what he wants … a bloke who can hand it all to her gift wrapped on a silver platter.

I just don’t think I’m the one who can give it to her.

RILEY

The baby and I had just finished picking up toys in the nursery when the sitter arrived. I absolutely hate hiring sitters, but that day, John was back to his own work and I needed to get out and about the Inn. We offer a babysitting service to guests and it was the first time I used it. Today’s sitter was Mrs. Beckingham, known around the Inn as Gramma Becks and she’d be watching over Nathan alone at our apartment. There were no other children on her books so he’d have all her attention. Nathan liked that. Just like his daddy; undivided attention always made him happiest.

I had no pressing responsibilities. It seemed that the past few weeks of fearful vigil had pretty much taken me out of the loop but I wasn’t looking to jump right back in too quickly anyway. The reason I needed to get out of the apartment had to do with the family; our amazing family that had once again pulled together to support each other. They came, offered their energies and skills to keep the Inn going; lent their prayers and kindness while I sat alone, terrified and crying in my room.

John’s back home, safe and sound. I woke this morning realizing that everyone was leaving now … and I hadn’t spent any time with any of them … except Terry who was also grumping about heading to New York and back to his business. I simply wanted to make the rounds, bestow thank you hugs and heartfelt appreciation.

Stephen would be leaving with Jack the very next morning. We may have convinced Nash to stay on but one never knows with John Nash. Ben Wade left for Connecticut this morning; he’s on a mission to regain the favor of one pretty Tracy Pinkerton. I hope he’s successful. Dino and Zack cut out right after John’s meeting; they had a business to run and a field case pending. Pullo had taken Valerie to help with the run down farmhouse at his vineyard. The poor kid had no idea of how tough that was going to be; she was excited, sleeping bag under her arm and thinking it was just a camping trip with her dad. Maybe it would be. But with them at the old house, it felt like even more family had left. They were all slipping away to their own lives, if not to houses a few miles away, to places very far away … and I wanted to touch base with every one of them.

But I wanted to start with Lachlan.

Poor Lachlan, hurt and struggling. Thank heavens for his new lady. She seemed so nice but knowing Lach, she definitely has her hands full. Not that he was a bad patient, not that he was inconsiderate or even unkind. Lachlan Curry is just a man; a man looking at life changing injuries and if my guess is right … looking at them very negatively.

When I tapped on the suite door, I was surprised to see him alone. He had that hang dog look of the guilty and I simply groaned. “What did you do?”

Lach shrugged and hobbled on his crutches to the sofa. “How are ya, love?”

“We ain’t doing this, buddy. We’re talking about you. Where’s Jessie?”

“Gone for a walk. The nipper okay?”

My heart was cracking. He looked normal but I could feel the misery floating off of him in waves. “What’s wrong, Lachlan?”

“Nothin’.”

“We’ve been friends way too long for this crap. Are you afraid they’ll kick you out of the Marines?”

He chuckled, shook his head. “Not afraid it’ll happen … positive it’ll happen.” He was silent for a moment, thoughtful. “Tell me somethin’ Riles. What the bloody hell do I have to offer a woman like Jessie?”

And I grinned. It was a smooth, easy litany of all his best qualities, the things about him that made me love him so much, made me know that he deserved the best of everything … made me worry about him. When it was over (a full ten minutes later), he smiled sadly.

“Maybe I should have you record that so I can listen to it every now and again. It’s great to hear … but you’re my mate. You said all the good things.”

“Shall I list the bad things?” I grunted and he shook his head.

“Ah … no, no … I’m good here. Maybe some other time.”

“When are you and Jessie leaving?”

“Tomorrow mornin’, need to report to the base doctor in San Diego by noon, Wednesday.”

“You’re gonna be fine, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I know.”

NATALIE

Our afternoon walk with the girls was filled with emotions; happy, sad … bittersweet. We were overjoyed that John made it home safely, returned to his family relatively unscathed. We … I … was so scared he was gone for good and as the weeks wore on, it certainly seemed like it. But our prayers were answered and he’s home now. The Portal taught us all an important lesson and it’s time for our lives to move on.

Moving on. That’s the key, isn’t it? We’ve been living across the hall from Riley and John for months now and it’s become home to me, the first real home I’ve had since moving here from L.A. And one thing I’ve learned is that it’s not the place but the people that make a home. John, Riley, baby Nathan, the girls, but most of all Jack. And now he’s leaving. Oh, I know it’s only for three months and in the grand scheme of things, that’s not a long time. But to me, it felt like years. And if everything goes according to plan, our house will be finished by the time he returns from sea. We will be moving to Maine then, to a new home to begin our new lives. And there’s something infinitely sad about that. Goodbyes are always heartbreaking.

But, we learned the Portal’s hard truth: this is our life. It’s all we’ve got and it’s time we got about the business of living. Our lives needed to return to normal; Jack had to leave for Maine, teaching his navigation class then sailing for two months with his students. His class had already begun with a substitute who was willing to finish out the lecture series. But, Jack’s strong sense of duty wouldn’t allow that and he would be gone in the morning.

I watched him as he walked a few feet ahead, Catherine securely wrapped at his hip. He spoke softly, almost whispering in her ear as he pointed out flowers, birds, clouds, anything catching his eye that he wanted to share with his daughter. Every once in a while, his lips brushed against the peach fuzz of her hair, saying a heartfelt, tender goodbye.

He meandered through the gardens, strolling slowly, but soon, I realized where he was leading … the gazebo; the spot where our lives intertwined and began. We sat close to each other underneath its sheltering roof, the girls on our laps, cooing and wiggling, his arm around me … we didn’t talk. Instead, we savored the nearness of each other, the reality, the solidness … the truth. And we said our goodbyes quietly, softly, knowing full well that although our separation was only temporary, it was still heartbreaking.

TERRY

Yeah, I escaped. I knew Riles had plans for the day and as much as I love my godson, I wasn’t interested in watching the nipper. Over the past two weeks my whole life was about takin’ care of Biebe’s family … it was time to take care of Terry. I strolled the Inn, stepped into the kitchen to chat a bit with Andy and Monna , who, by the way were kissing like hormonal adolescents in Chef Chris’ office. I had a brief visit with Nash in the breakfast room then headed off to locate Aubrey. He’s leaving tomorrow and I wanted to wish him well on his teaching voyage.

As I walked past the parlor I saw something that was a cross between bizarre and intriguing. The odd goth maid, Clari Oakley was in there, kicking the living shit out of a silent vacuum cleaner and I swear she was speaking in tongues.

Clari had caught my attention the first time I ever saw her. A strange young woman probably in her late twenties, she looked like a tattoo queen in one of those body art magazines. Her ears were pierced several times as was her nose, her tongue and … I can only wonder what else. Since I’d first met her, her hair has been bleached white, black as night, multicolored and currently, a golden shine looking almost unnatural as it caught the light. She was wearing black fishnet stockings beneath her very short maid’s uniform, leather wrist cuffs and those ever present black lace-up biker boots. Clari certainly doesn’t sound like much to look at but trust me, there are qualities about her that drive a man wild.

Her eyes, brilliant hazel with flecks of gold … her lips, full and luscious no matter what bizarre color she chose to coat them with … her complexion, flawless, nearly Vermont milkmaid fresh with a sprinkling of freckles that made me wanna groan … and her body? Jesus bloody Christ … her body was beautiful, even wrapped in the ugly grey maid’s uniform. Her legs were unbelievably long net covered delights and I could only guess at the delicate shape of the ankles encased in those hideous boots. I leaned against the doorway as she slammed one of those boots against the vacuum cleaner and huffed.

“Ya think that’s gonna help, love?”

She looked up at me and my breath caught. Have I mentioned Clari’s smile? Stunning.

“Nope. Don’t think anything’s going to help this damn thing,” she said with a shrug. “I think it’s done … shit the bed … kaput … fini … dead as a doornail.”

“Yeah? Maybe we can look underneath,” I sat on the floor beside her and we toppled the thing. With my good hand I fingered the brush roller, the belt.

“The bag is fresh,” she said before I could ask and I slid a finger deeper around the roller. “Uh … maybe I should unplug this thing before we mess with it.”

I pulled my hand away like it was on fire and she laughed then leaned her body over my legs to reach for the cord. As she gave a good yank, my eyes trailed to the hem of her skirt. Damn. Those fishnets are thigh high and bound to the curviest, creamiest thighs I ever saw. I’m sure she caught me lookin’ but didn’t say a word. Was that a good sign or a bad sign?

We fiddled with the vacuum another five minutes before I tossed my hands in defeat. “It may be dead … it may be an easy fix … maybe nothing’s wrong with it at all. Fuck if I’d know.” Yeah, I was goin’ for another laugh and got it. “What’re ya gonna do now, love?”

“Put it away and leave a note for Mr. Barrett. I’ve been off the clock for almost an hour, thought I just do a quick run over this carpet before I left.” Her eyes sparkled molten gold at me. “What are you gonna do now, Mr. Thorne?”

I stood and helped her to her feet, then I took the cleaner and twisted the cord tight before tucking it in the supply closet hidden behind the drapes. “Why?”

“Well,” she smiled … my knees weakened … I smiled … and she finally continued. “If you keep being so damn charming to me, I’ll simply have to seduce you.”

“Ah,” I bit the inside of my lip to keep from grinning. “See, Ms. Oakley, either I’m not a very good communicator … or I’ve lost my touch … but it’s me who’s been tryin’ to seduce you.”

“Your place or mine?”

“I have no place, personal guest with the Biebes.”

“There are dirty dishes in my sink.”

“Are ya planning to serve food on the dirty dishes? ‘Cause eatin’ food isn’t what’s on my mind, darlin’.”

She smiled and stepped so close I could smell her musky, wanting scent. “No eating food on the agenda … and … the sheets are clean. I’ll drive.”

“Lead the way.”

EMILY

I just can’t stop grinning. My stomach is full of kamikaze butterflies and I’m so full of energy that I want to laugh and dance and yell all at the same time.

After the meeting in the tower room yesterday, Kim took me out to an early dinner and we talked until nine. I think we had Italian food – I seem to remember something about spaghetti and meatballs – and afterwards Kim dropped me off at my apartment. He walked me to my door and I tried inviting him in, but he just shook his head and smiled as he took my face in his hands and kissed me.

“Not yet.” He purred in his deep growly voice as he gently moved in closer to nibble on my bottom lip. I threw my arms around his neck and he held me tight, lifting me up off the ground so unexpectedly that I lost my left shoe. It was all I could do not to attack him right there against the balcony railing, in full view of my neighbors and anyone who might have happened to be passing by.

“Mmmmmm … when?” I probably sounded like a spoiled brat, but I didn’t care. I’m an adult and can have sex with whatever man I want, and at that moment, all I wanted was Kim Barrett. I guess I’ve wanted him for a long time, but only now been able to admit it. His hands felt so nice as they pressed me close and his mouth tasted even better as I explored it with my tongue. I wanted more; I wanted all of him.

“Soon … I promise.” His words came out in breathless gasps that seemed to mirror mine. “I want everything to be perfect.”

“It already is.” I hooked one leg around his thigh and he groaned; I thought I almost had him, but he surprised me by setting me down and untangling himself from my hold.

“Oh Emmy, if you only knew …” His blue eyes were shining and he had the sweetest little smile as he looked into my eyes before leaning down to kiss me yet again.

No one outside of my family has ever gotten away with calling me by my childhood nickname. But coming from Kim’s lips, it sounded liked a caress to my heart. He stopped kissing me suddenly, pulling away just slightly; his eyes never leaving mine.

“Now get inside where it’s warm and I’ll see you in the morning.” He kissed the center of my forehead and waited for me to open my door before turning to go.

“Sweet dreams,” he called out as he headed back down the stairs. 

I listened to his footsteps and waited for the sound of his car starting before I closed the door and locked it behind me. I only got as far as the living room when my cell phone started to ring. I smiled when I saw the name on the caller ID.

“Hey, what are you doin’?”

Again, that sexy growly sound in his voice that caused shivers to go up and down my spine.

“I just locked the front door and right now I’m in the kitchen getting a drink of water. I thought we already said good night.”

“We did, but I’m not ready to say good bye.”

We didn’t stop talking until two-thirty, when my cell phone started beeping that my battery was about to die.

“Get some sleep, Emmy. We can have breakfast together in the morning.”

I think I finally did fall asleep somewhere around three. But I was wide awake when the alarm went off at six. Just two more hours before I can see him again!

KIM

I don’t think I’ve ever spent five hours on the phone with anyone before, but I just didn’t want my evening with Emmy to end. Ever since she first kissed me a week ago I’ve been looking for any excuse to get her to want to kiss me again. The blanket of doom has been lifted and I no longer have to deal with the guilt for feeling so wonderful while John was still missing.

What haven’t we talked about so far? I’ve told her my childhood secrets, even admitted to being a bully on occasion.

“Oh, you can be a real ball breaker, trust me, I know.” She was laughing as she said this, and I started to feel guilty all over again.

“I was pretty hard on you in the beginning,” I admitted.

“You were a complete jerk. I remember the very first day I met you – you looked so handsome in your Armani suit and coat, and I was so curious about why Riley was showing you around. Then the next day when you came to the gift shop to see me; remember what you said?”

Actually, I had no bloody idea, but I cringed anyway. It was probably something rude and pretentious.

“You said that you expected me to dress professionally. And there I was, wearing a pair of Dolce and Gabbana overalls and a Vivienne Westwood sweater. You looked me over like I was a little girl who had gotten into her mother’s closet and was playing dress up and I remember your lip was curling.”

“My lip never curled. I was probably trying not to smile and let on that I thought you were the most adorable woman I’ve ever seen. I was starting a brand new position with a lot of responsibility and I didn’t want you to distract me. You know, it would have been better if Riley and John had chosen someone really unattractive as my personal assistant. Do you know how hard it was NOT to just sit there and stare at you?”

“I never noticed you staring at me …much.”

“Ah, then I was successful, after all.”

“Actually, I thought you hated my guts in the very beginning. You were so overbearing, cocky, arrogant, self-centered …”

“Okay, I get the idea.”

“…did I forget conceited?”

“You know, it’s a good thing you’re over there and I’m back over here, because I’d be really tempted to …”

“Tempted to do what?”

“Probably take you in my arms and kiss you senseless.”

“You already did that earlier tonight.”

“Emmy, that was just practice.”

“Well, they do say that practice makes perfect. I’d be more than happy to help you with your technique.”

“My technique? I’ll have you know that I’ve never had a sheila complain after I kissed her.”

“Well, you’re obviously deluded, then. I have a very big complaint.”

I began to feel a bit nervous. Could she really think that I was a lousy kisser? She sure didn’t seem to act like she thought I was a lousy kisser. “All right, let’s hear it.”

She gave a soft giggle and if I wasn’t cracking a fat earlier then I certainly was right then.

“My complaint is that you wouldn’t let me kiss you as long as I wanted to.”

Now that was something worth hearing. “Hey Emmy?”

A soft pause before she answered. “Yes?”

“Are you in bed right now?”

“Um, yeah. Why?”

“Tell me what you’re wearing.”

“Only if you tell me what you’re not wearing.”

Okay, that’s all I’m repeating. Let’s just say that as two consenting adults, what we do with our cell phones is no one else’s business.

I think I fell asleep with a grin plastered onto my face.

DAISY

I’m a bartender. It’s a craft, an art. It’s what I do and have done since I was twenty-one. It paid my way through school. Yes, school. You see, I have a master’s degree in psychology from USC. Someday, maybe I’ll go get that PhD, but for now, I’m happy with what I’m doing. And the psychology comes in handy while serving up beers, whiskeys and drinks, believe me. You’d be amazed at the stories I’ve heard, but I’ll save those for another time.

Just after John Biebe disappeared, Steve, the Inn’s bartender, had to take time off for a family emergency leaving the pub without a tender, so I stepped in. Had to do something to help out, it being Cory’s family and all, and what better way to help than doing something I love. As it turns out, Steve’s not coming back. It’s too bad Cory and I aren’t staying. I’d love to work in a place like this … old fashioned polished wood bar, cozy booths, great clientele. At nights, the place was hoppin’, full of guests and partying out-of-towners. But the afternoons were quiet, just a few regulars sipping their brews and making small-talk with the substitute tender … moi.

This afternoon, though, was dead. No one came into the pub, so I had time to take inventory and prepare that week’s booze order. My nose had been in the cabinet when I turned toward the bar and jumped ten feet out of my skin!

“Jesus! You scared me.” I hadn’t heard the man on the other side of the wood come up and take a seat.

He chuckled, “Sorry, ‘bout that.”

He was cute, in a short-haired, military sort of way, and spoke in a broad Boston accent. But, I could tell this one was a bad boy, the kind your momma always warned you about. The mischief just oozed from his pores. God, I love the bad ones!

“No problem,” I countered. “What’ll ya have?”

“Beer. Tap’s fine.” Placing the pint in front of him, he added, “So, new here?”

“Yeah, just filling in for a while. Haven’t seen you before. First time?”

He grinned a big, cheesy grin. “Naw. Been here for a while now.” He patted the bar. “Kinda tied to the place, ya know?”

“Yeah, I can understand that.” I looked around and nodded, satisfied with the surroundings.

“Hey, gotta go. Say hello to my pal, Terry, for me, ‘k?” He got up to leave.

“Sure. What’s your name?”

“Brian.”

I turned to ring up the register and when I turned back, there was a five on the bar and Brian was no where to be seen. It was freaky, just seemed to have vanished into thin air! And wouldn’t ya know, not five minutes later, Mr. Thorne himself strolled into the pub with the biggest shit-eating grin I’d ever seen.

“Terry! You certainly have a glow today.” I winked.

He laughed. “Yes, I do.”

Giggling, I poured him his usual stout. “Hey, you just missed a buddy of yours. Was here just five minutes ago and said to say hello.”

“Really, love?”

“Yeah. Said his name was Brian.”

Terry choked. “Uhh … no, love. No. You couldn’t have met Brian.”

“Sure I did. He was right here.”

“No, love. Brian’s dead. Parachuting accident fifteen years ago. Ya can’t have seen him.”

“But I did. He was here,” I insisted. “Maybe he’s one of the ghosts that live here.”

“No such thing as ghosts, love.” He lit a cigarette and took a long drag, his glow long gone. “He’s a figment of my imagination.” He took another drag. “Ya see, something happened between his wife and me after he died. Not something I’m proud of, but there it is.” He stubbed out the half-smoked cigarette. “And now, I gotta go. Ta for the beer, love.” He stood and headed for the door.

“Terry,” I called, “maybe you should talk to someone about that guilt complex.” I smiled, trying not to appear as harsh as I sounded. “And something else to think about …”

“Yeah, Daisy?”

“If Brian is a figment of your imagination, how could I see him or even know about him before you told me?”

He thought for a moment then turned to leave. “Good point,” he called back.

CORY

I sat on the floor packing up my equipment. Next would be my clothes but the truth was … I didn’t wanna be packing anything. I didn’t wanna be leaving. This big hulking house had become home to me. It’s the place my family lives and breathes, loves and grows. But … Daisy and me, we live in LA.

Yesterday Gemma left. We talked about the show and about how we had more than enough remarkable footage for ‘The Ghost is Inn’ to have the best show ever seen on television … another award winner without a doubt … and … we jointly decided not to use any of it. It was too much, almost unbelievable, and far too personal for either of us to share. The segment on the 1876 Manor Inn at Mount Mansfield was canned and I for one am glad. I’m thinking maybe Granddad Bud is pleased too.

Daisy was all packed but I was having the hardest time preparing to leave. Gemma could see that. Before she left she asked me, “Was this the end of your journey, Cory?”

I didn’t answer.

“Will I see you in Los Angeles?” she sighed.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure you will,” I said as enthusiastically as I could but even I could hear the hesitation in my voice. Damn, I don’t want to leave Vermont. But Jesus … what the fuck would I do in Vermont?

KELLY

We came home the evening after the meeting in the tower, our hearts full of relief and our minds finally at ease after hearing John’s account of what had happened to him during his absence; how it provided a warning to all of us to be thankful for what we have in the here and now.  I wonder if Jeff has ever longed to go back to his former life, even though we now know what awaits anyone who tries to go back to from where they came. 

“Let’s just look forward and leave the past to worry about itself. My life is here, right now, with you, Kelly Lynn O’Grady.”

I always smile when he calls me by my full name, because I know he’s saying it to get my complete attention. Not in the way of a parent addressing an inattentive child, but in the way of a lover who knows you sometimes almost better than you know yourself.

“Is this enough for you? You’re not just accepting it because you now know that there’s nothing waiting for you if you ever decided to go back?” I needed to know that he doesn’t feel like he’s settling with his decision to spend his life here with me. I watched his eyes narrow as he considered his answer, ever the one to weigh all sides of a problem before speaking from the voice of authority.

He reached for my hand and pulled me down to sit beside him on the couch. His palm was warm but his fingers were surprisingly cool and I liked the feel of his rougher skin against mine; it felt solid and real.

“I’m perfectly content to be where I am, right now, right here with you. Nothing’s changed between us from two weeks ago, aside from you now knowing the truth behind my past. And what about you? Are you content to go ahead with our plans despite all what you now know?”

His voice was steady and confident as he asked me this, but I could see the vulnerability shining in his beautiful proud eyes.

“I love you now more than ever, Jeffrey Wigand. I understand why you kept this part of your life to yourself. But it doesn’t change you one bit in my eyes. You’re still the guy I fell in love with from the very first moment we met.”

“You fell in love with me that quickly?”

I pulled his arm up around my shoulders and snuggled in close, feeling the warmth coming off his body and passing into my own. “You know I did. It’s not every day a woman literally runs into a guy like you. I learned a lot of things from my marriage, and one was how to appreciate a really good man. I was just extra lucky to find one who was as wonderful as he was handsome.”

“And you’re okay with all this crazy stuff? About the Portals and the ghosts and God only knows what else?”

I thought about it for a moment, but only because the question seemed to require a certain amount of contemplation before responding. I already knew my answer. “Yes, I’m okay with all of it.”

“You sure?”

“Would I still want to marry you if I wasn’t?” I wrapped my arm around his waist and glanced up to catch him smirking. “What’s so funny?”

“Honey, let’s just up and do it. Let’s go to Vegas this weekend and get married.”

“Can we get married by an Elvis impersonator and catch a Wayne Newton show?”

“I kind of thought you’d want to see Cirque du Soleil.”

“That too.”

“What about gambling? Are you the kind of gal who likes Baccarat and Blackjack, or do you like to sit around and work the slots?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been to Vegas before. You’ll have to educate me.”

He laughed then; this remarkably infectious sounding giggle that bounced off the walls and danced along the ceiling. “Oh baby, have mercy.”

So okay, it was a really bad Elvis impersonation. But it wasn’t Elvis who kissed me just seconds later. Elvis had long ago left the building. But Jeffrey Wigand was here to stay.

COLIN

Tuesday morning and it felt like a bloody mass exodus. Seemed we were all heading out, standing together in the lobby, tearful women, grunting men. Carrie and me, we needed to get our arses back to the circuit, I had a race in a few days and needed to get back into the swing of things.

We had a fight last night, not a big blue, just a kinda tiff. I can’t even say I got any clue how it started, but Carrie, she seems like a protective mama bear since all this Portal stuff happened. She watches me like a hawk and I’m kinda lookin’ forward to getting back to our lives. To having at least 500 laps a week without her in my ear worrying about everything I do.

Maybe she’s not so bad, maybe it’s nice to have your sheila so crazy mad for you she worries you’ll disappear through a fuckin’ Portal or fall down the steps … but this bloody shit had gotta stop. I fuckin’ drive a racecar for a livin’!

We finally stepped out the doors and onto the porch; I’d packed the bags in the rental earlier and parked it near the steps. But before we could leave the porch, we were both dumbstruck. There at the foot of the steps, the most beautiful, shiny, tricked-out Harley I’ve ever bloody seen. The sunlight flashed off its pulsing, polished fenders and I swear to bloody hell, I could smell the fine leather saddle ten feet away.

“Bloody hell, would ya look at that!” gasped Thorne, pushing past us to get closer. Biebe was on his heel and before I knew it, Andy and Kim were gawking at the bike. I moved to get a closer look when Carrie, a tiny shiela mind ya, slammed her purse against my shoulder so hard I yelped.

“What?” I hissed.

She hissed back. “You are sending it back, Colin! There’s no way you’re risking your life on that … that … that thing!”

I opened my mouth but before I could say a word, Maximus came out the door decked out in black leather slacks and biker jacket. He slithered through the admiring crowd and settled a black helmet on his head before turning the key and roaring the engine.

“Jesus! Max? What the fuck?” shouted John.

“Brother, I’m simply embracing the twenty-first century. Now, make way, gentlemen. Sophia requires ice cream.” And he was gone, leaving us all with brows high and mouths opened.

I turned to my wife. “Jesus,” she sighed all moony eyed. “King Leonidas on a Harley.”