Revelations Of Loss -- 2010 NaNoWriMo

Robert and Liz have been growing together over time... but secrets may damage that

This first part, in black, is the result of version / edit #3 of this story

1

         Elizabeth Courtland looked into the mirror atop her bedroom vanity table, brushing out her hair. She loved the feel of it, the silky-smooth touch of her dishwater-blonde tresses sliding against her hand as the brush made its way through. Even with its natural curls, her hair hung down just below her shoulders. It looked and felt natural and full – something that Liz Courtland had once thought she would never again experience.

         Putting down the brush, Liz again looked in the mirror, scanning her face for any makeup mistakes on her 35-year-old face. Not that there was much to make a mistake with – Liz had only put on lipstick, eye shadow, and a small amount of blush on her cheeks. As a teenager, she had eschewed makeup as “fake paint” used to attract boys who, in the balance, weren’t worth the time or effort. And now, she wanted to look as “real” as possible… and makeup felt even more “fake” than it did in her teenage years.

         Leaning back in her vanity chair, Liz liked what she saw in the mirror. She hoped that her boyfriend, Robert Kelsey, would as well. Meeting at a singles movie night several months previous, the two had hit it off instantly. Elizabeth had been surprised to find many common interests with Robert, including cooking and music. So many that on the spur of the moment, she invited him out for coffee, dinner and dessert at a local bistro the next evening. His quick acceptance had Liz wondering on her drive home if the invitation had been a mistake on her part (and possibly opened the door for him to think she was on the make, or out for a “quick lay”). Yes, she said to herself, we talked for several hours tonight. But even so, it’s still too quick! What in the world were you thinking, Liz? Yet feeling there was no way out (and that she had put herself in any potential trap), Liz followed through and met Robert the next evening in the foyer of Bistro Petit Fournier, A French restaurant in the city’s revitalized downtown that had earned rave reviews.

         Her fears soon proved unfounded as she and Robert talked for hours over dinner, coffee and dessert, not once running out of things to say. Both realized that first-night spark was still going between them, and even said so. For a few moments after that, Elizabeth feared that Robert might want to take their friendship to a higher level – and possibly a sensual one – almost immediately. Seeing that concern written across her face, Robert defused the situation by gently grasping her hand and saying, “Don’t worry, Liz; it’s way too soon for me, too.” Liz’s blush and giggle at that comment proved infectious, and both were soon laughing heartily. The evening ended when the Maitre ‘D kicked them out at closing time; the couple hugged (but didn’t kiss) and agreed to meet again soon.

         That “agreement” led to Robert and Liz going out two nights a week on average, and more if their schedules allowed. A lot of the schedule fluctuation was because of Robert; as a computer services entrepreneur, he traveled around the country quite a bit, both selling his company to clients and doing follow-up work. Robert traveled so much, in fact, that he often joked about having more flight experience than some airline pilots, and that his children (if not grandchildren) would use up the last of his frequent flyer miles. He also “promised” Liz that if given the opportunity, he would cash those miles in someday on a good vacation for the two of them.

         Though taking the vacation “promise” as a funny joke, Liz now harbored a secret hope for exactly that. Part of it was her growing feelings for Robert, while another part was her own job situation. Liz worked in the administration offices for a group of area hospitals owned by a national healthcare services company. (“I don’t work for an HMO,” she would point out to various friends. “My company only runs hospitals and care centers. It doesn’t sell insurance, and especially not insurance that can only be used at the hospitals it owns.”) While she found her work boring and even drudgery at times, she also considered it vital in the process of providing health care – something that she firmly believed needed to be protected and kept accessible. While her job paid well, Liz had already decided that it would be many years before she could take a “dream vacation” without putting herself in the poor house. Especially when she thought about her life-long dream of taking a cruise through the Alaskan Inside Passage.

         Her dates with Robert, meanwhile, were often a fun filled reality. They usually fell into one of several categories – movies, Saturday night karaoke, Robert cooking dinner at his house (he was a gourmet chef without a restaurant to his name), or a quiet evening snuggled together on Liz’s couch in front of the fire with a glass or two of wine. Liz didn’t relish one particular type of date over another, and even enjoyed the surprises Robert would occasionally drop on her. Her favorite had been the Saturday morning he picked her up on short notice – only enough warning time, in fact, to shower and throw on a pair of jeans and a polo shirt – and drove her to a state park over an hour away. There they enjoyed a combination picnic, air show, sunset, and fireworks extravaganza. (The nearby air force base was celebrating a major anniversary, and Robert wanted to enjoy it without battling the crowds.) More than anything, Elizabeth Courtland was simply happy to have a man in her life that seemed to want her for the person she was, instead of someone who would try to make her into something she wasn’t. A man who, in her fears, she felt would probably never exist.

         Tonight was to be a “music night” – after dinner, the couple was going to a bar where a friend of Robert’s (who had also become Liz’s friend) ran a karaoke show. Though not singers themselves, Robert had no problem getting up in front of the audience. “If you’re having fun,” he would say, “you’re not making a fool of yourself. And besides… if you can’t laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at?” That “spark,” that desire to have fun, was something Liz had not seen in a lot of her dates over the years – nor, for that matter, in herself. That she found it in both herself and Robert boded well for her. It also meant that something she had not wanted to face might soon crop up… something she was not certain she was ready to handle.

         Finished with her hair and face, Liz walked over to the full-length mirrors that made up the sliding doors of her closet. There she saw what she hoped to see – a well proportioned, 5’ 7”, 135 lb female figure that looked healthy overall. Liz knew she’d never be considered a fashion model, let alone petite. But she preferred the image in the mirror; like her “fake paint” view of makeup, Liz believed that the various ads (be they promoting perfume, clothing, lingerie, cars, etc.) were deceptive. At best, the models were contortionists who could modify their bodies as necessary for the cameras. And at worst, they weren’t people at all, but edited or computer-generated photos designed solely to sell products. Liz much preferred reality to printed fantasy – even if that reality was at times painful or difficult to handle. Looking more closely in the mirror, Liz saw that her dangling gold earrings stood out from her hair just enough to be noticed, and nicely complimented the sapphire blue high-necked sweater with rollover collar. And both the sweater and her light tan slacks hugged her body just enough to accentuate her curves without overly doing so. Okay, kiddo, you’re looking good so far… now for the big tests.

         Facing the mirror straight on, Liz stood as upright as possible. Her eyes traced over her body, looking for imperfections, flaws, even misalignments. Then she turned to her right, perpendicular to the mirror’s flat face, turning her head to again trace her eyes over the reflected image of her body. Then she did the same while facing to the left. Turning back to face the mirror “full front,” Liz decided she would “pass muster” and be okay. Thank heavens, she thought to herself. Maybe some day I won’t need to do this… but it won’t be in time for tonight’s date. Making a quick check of her clutch purse, Liz walked down to the family room, watching the latest college football results on ESPN while waiting for the doorbell to ring.

2

         Driving down the interstate, Robert Kelsey turned up the homemade CD of jazz favorites playing on the stereo. A life-long resident of the area, he knew which exits to take and which to avoid on a Saturday night. He also enjoyed driving his cardinal red Chevy Equinox on the highway; it had just enough sport to suit him, while still looking “conservative” enough to be used by a self-made businessman. The SUV also afforded him a decent amount of cargo space, should he be working on a weekend project at his home. Not to mention carrying blankets and a picnic basket for a day and evening at a state park watching planes, a sunset and fireworks.

         Driving up the exit ramp to Liz’s neighborhood, a part of Robert’s mind thought back over the previous months. While a part of him had wanted to get intimate with Liz that night at Bistro Petit Fournier, he was now extremely glad he hadn’t. Holding her hand, making the comment that he wasn’t ready, and getting her to laugh had done a LOT more in terms of building their relationship than any roll in the hay would have accomplished. (While part of him had been sexually hungry that night, a larger part of him refused to go there for several reasons.) He had also believed that if and when the time was right, that intimacy would happen.

         Their continued dating, especially their nights snuggled in front of the fireplace, told Robert he had found a very special lady. Granted, you thought Miranda was special, too. And she was, though it was in ways you’d never expected. But now… being with Liz just feels so fun, so enjoyable… so GOOD! As if on cue, the soft flugelhorn tones of Chuck Mangione’s 1978 hit song “Feels So Good” started flowing out his SUV’s sound system. Easily recognizing the tune, Robert could not help but laugh – and think that maybe the song was a good omen for his current relationship.

         Even after several months of dating, he still couldn’t believe that Liz had come into his life. The night they met was literally the first night Robert had fully ventured out of his post-divorce shell (a very comfortable place after over four years of inhabitation). He had gone to the movie night at the insistence of Chet and Michael, two friends who, like him, were divorced and using the same singles website. Chet even had plans to meet a lady from the website for dinner, drinks and to possibly “skip the movie.” Robert and Michael insisted that Chet at least stick around for the pre-movie socializing, which he did (disappearing soon after the movies started playing with a tall, thin ebon lady he introduced as “Iris”). Michael and Robert, meanwhile, stayed with their movie group (having chosen to watch a James Bond parody starring Ben Affleck and produced by Matt Damon).

         Several ladies in that group had been willing to strike up a conversation, including Elizabeth Courtland. She and a friend, Louise Montenegro, had joined the three men and “Iris” in a discussion about the movie in particular and things they liked in general. (To this day, Robert had no idea if that was her real name, and doubted he ever would as Chet had quickly moved through several other ladies since then.) Robert and Elizabeth were soon talking only to each other, and the people around them gave the couple some space. When the rest of the singles group started heading towards their respective theaters, Robert and Liz kept on talking. Louise eventually returned to the lobby to interrupt the suddenly enamored couple’s conversation, making them realize the movie was about to start without them.

         After the show, the foursome (they neither knew nor cared what had happened to Chet and his companion) went out for coffee. It became readily apparent to both Michael and Louise that sparks were flowing between their friends; knowing how Robert’s marriage had ended, Michael was grateful to see it. For her part, Louise hoped that Liz was coming out of her own shell a little more. On more than one occasion, she had said, “Damn it, Elizabeth, you are TOO BEAUTIFUL to be spending your nights sitting around your house looking at the walls and the television. Get out and LIVE, girlfriend! While you still have the time and the chance!” A few months before, Liz had rounded on her friend, only to be caught short. “That’s right, girlfriend, you told me about what you went through several years ago. You know better than most that if you get the chance you need to get out and live. So do it!” Elizabeth had indeed started “living” after that, getting involved in the singles group and going to movies and outdoor concerts with friends. But until the night she first met Robert, Liz had not realized just how sheltered she had made her life.

         Seeing how well Robert and Liz were getting along, their friends each decided to give the “new couple” some time to themselves and feigned the need for sleep. (In the parking lot, Michael and Louise decided to go to a different restaurant for an early breakfast.) While Robert and Liz each feared the loss of their respective “security blankets,” they were also grateful for the chance to have some one-on-one time. They each talked about their jobs, their likes in sports, movies and music, and how they had been “dragged kicking and screaming” to the movie night. (Though they didn’t admit it, each was grateful they had been “dragged” to the theater.) Elizabeth disclosed that she was single, never married, no kids, and had moved to the area three years earlier because of her job. In turn, Robert revealed he had lived in the area all his life, and had been divorced for five years after a seven-year marriage with no kids to show for it. When Liz asked if Robert’s job had contributed to his divorce, he explained that his career had not taken off until afterwards, that the divorce had actually given him more time to build his business. “It also,” he added, “gave me a place where I could hide from the pain of the divorce.”

         It was then that Elizabeth had “leaped off the limb” and invited him out for coffee the next evening. And thank heavens she did, Robert thought as he pulled into her driveway. Or I might never have found this lady that makes me feel so good. Turning off the engine, he listened to the last bars of the Chuck Mangione song before getting out of his Equinox. Not to mention she loves football, college basketball, hockey… we share tastes in food and music… if I were a pessimist, I would suspect it was too good to be true or something was going to screw it all up. But I refuse to think that now. Enjoying the mood, he pressed the doorbell.

* * * * *

         Oh wow, he’s here early! Thank God I’m ready. Elizabeth had just walked into the family room from the bathroom when the doorbell rang. She turned off the television and made her way to the front door. A last glance in the hallway mirror confirmed her hope – she was “presentable” and could go out in public.

         She opened the door to a sight she had really come to like – Robert Kelsey, his 195 lbs nicely ensconced on his 5’ 11” frame, wearing dark slacks, a dress shirt and sport coat. His brown hair with occasional flecks of gray was neatly trimmed, and his green eyes twinkled above a moustache-topped mirthful smile. “Hey there, babe,” she greeted him, giving him a light peck on the cheek. Though a part of Liz wanted to give him more of a kiss, the rest of her said it wasn’t time yet, even after several months of dating. Robert hadn’t seemed to object. But the twinkle in his eyes got her wondering… “All right, mister, what sort of mischief do you have planned for tonight?”

         “Moi?” Feigning indignation, he said, “Now, Liz, would I ever try to pull off mischief? Or have something up my sleeve besides my arm?”

         “Well…” After locking the front door, Liz turned and ran a hand along Robert’s left ear. “I could bring up that trip to the state park for the air show picnic…”

         “Okay,” he chuckled, “you got me there.” Offering an arm, he added, “If you’ll accompany me, my lady’s chariot awaits. And yes, I was thinking of a change in plans. How about we have dinner and a show instead of going to karaoke?”

         “What’s this? Gary not doing karaoke tonight?”

         “Yes, he is. Hell, neither wild horses or a heart attack could keep him from doing the Saturday night show.” Liz shook her head as she approached the front passenger door of Robert’s Equinox. She remembered going with him to visit Gary Whitlock in his hospital room after the KJ had suffered a “mild” heart attack, and hearing the man insist he would be out of the hospital in time to do the following night’s show. (He ended up staying in the hospital for five days after tests revealed blockages in multiple cardiac arteries. And though he had said he would change his ways, Gary was still a pack-a-day smoker, living largely on fast food.) “I decided to do something a little different tonight,” Robert added. “I feel like I’m in a karaoke rut – and just what are you doing?”

         “I’m making sure,” she replied while peering in the back windows, “that you don’t have some sort of surprise waiting for me. Like blankets and pillows to turn the back of your ‘chariot’ here into a ‘sin wagon’.” She climbed into the passenger seat, clipping her seatbelt in place as Robert closed the door amid a roar of laughter. Liz relaxed, wondering just what surprise Robert might have in store while knowing she was effectively powerless to change it. Not only was he driving, after all; when he wanted too, Robert Kelsey could be more tight-lipped than the most Top Secret C.I.A. or Pentagon operative. Liz had learned to not push, for it would only exasperate her while making Robert smile. It also reminded her of the reason not to get into a wrestling match with a pig: “It only gets you dirty, and the pig loves it.” She supposed that Robert’s ability to keep things quiet sprang out of his business work, and the need to keep new computer developments and products to himself until it was time to announce and market them.

         Liz learned her “fate” after a 40-minute drive and a selection of good jazz songs. (Since meeting Robert, Liz had developed a growing appreciation for jazz music.) “Okay, honey… you MUST be planning something tonight. You don’t just come here on a spur-of-the-moment decision.” The “here” in question was the Kyoto Steakhouse and Sushi Bar, one of the area’s best and most popular Japanese steakhouses. It was located in the Grand Terrace Mall, which also held the city’s largest movieplex. With 32 screens, Liz was sure they could find something to enjoy after dinner.

3

         “Hallo… welcome to Kyoto Steak and Sushi… My name Kazuki…” Liz and Robert, along with five other people, were seated around a Teppanyaki grill. The chef had wheeled out a cart with all the ingredients for everyone’s main entrees just as the diners finished their opening dinner courses (a green salad with ginger dressing, followed by their choice of either Japanese clear soup or miso soup). “No, not Kabuki… I am not actor…” he said, continuing his introductory spiel with a broad smile as his audience laughed. “I am chef, and tonight I am your chef. I hope you enjoy meals and show.” Having eaten here before, both Robert and Liz were half-expecting such hoopla from their chef – it was, after all, part of the “flying Ginsu show” that made the Kyoto a good Japanese steakhouse.

         Taking a quick look around, Robert was grateful there were no small children at the table tonight; one visit some years ago had been marred by a family’s decision to bring their two-year-old son with them. Not having been to a Japanese steakhouse before, they didn’t know that the cooking started with a big fire on the grill (just like the one now flaring to the applause of those seated around the table). Scared out of his wits, the child started screaming and could not be calmed down. His father had been forced to take the boy outside while mom waited for the chef (who worked feverishly while she apologized profusely to him and her now former dinner mates) to box up their dinners to take home. Luckily, Robert and the other four diners at the table had understood and were willing to wait while the chef completed the departing family’s orders ahead of everyone else’s. The staff had been all smiles, quickly yet politely helping the family get their food and settle their bill with as little fuss as possible. And for their trouble, the remaining diners were each given a free drink. (Robert strongly suspected he wasn’t the only patron at the table that left a nice tip.)

         There were no such problems tonight, and Chef Kazuki had his knives and spatulas flying. In short order, every diner around the table had a bowl of fried rice and the chef was working on the vegetables (including zucchini, onions, Shitake mushrooms and bean sprouts) that would go with everyone’s main course. When the chef used two spatulas to juggle a lemon half into the top of his red chef’s hat, Robert saluted him with a nod of his Asahi Black beer while the other diners applauded. Liz was drinking a non-alcoholic strawberry daiquiri, and both had water as well. After distributing the veggies around the table, the Chef started working on everyone’s main courses.

         “Uh oh,” Liz said soto voce. “I better get a napkin ready for my sweater.”

         “Oh?”

         “Come on, Robert… you know how klutzy I get when the shrimp appear!” It was all Robert could do not to laugh, remembering the first time he had brought Liz to the restaurant. She had not been prepared for the part of the “show” involving extra shrimp (and half-jokingly castigated Robert afterwards for not telling her). As Liz had suspected tonight, there were more than a few left over after the shrimp entrees had been served out.

         “Ho-kay,” Chef Kazuki said to his rapt audience. “I am sure you familiar with ‘flying fish,’ yes?” Everyone agreed. “How many you here… know that… shrimp fly too?” This time, only Robert and Liz nodded; the other five diners were somewhere between confused, dumbfounded and disbelieving. “Ah, I teach you something! Now, pretty lady in blue sweater –” Liz started blushing “– You help me show others how shrimp fly!”

         Before she could agree, the chef had flattened a piece of cooked shrimp with two loud <<SLAPS>> of a spatula. Seconds later, he used the same spatula to fling the shrimp in a high arc towards Liz. Knowing what to expect this time, Liz swayed in her chair as she tried to catch the “flying shrimp” in her mouth. When it landed on her lower lip, Liz rolled it inside her mouth to make the shrimp fall down. “You good, pretty lady! I bet you practice! Ho-kay, who next for ‘flying shrimp’?” In short order, everyone had at least one try at catching a lofted cooked shrimp in his or her mouth; those who missed got a second chance. Robert got his on the first try; when it dropped straight in, not touching anything, he crowed, “Nothing but the bottom of the net!”

         “Show off,” Liz replied, giving him a playful elbow jab in the ribs. After that, the rest of the main courses were served out. As his “last act,” Chef Kazuki rubbed a thick slice of onion on the hot grill then pressed on it so all the rings popped out. Then he stacked the rings one on top of the other until they formed a cone. Spraying something from a squeeze bottle inside the stacked rings, he held a match to the top of the cone – producing a whistling spout of flame. “Ah, yes… volcano!” the chef said as he repeatedly tapped on a large peppershaker. The grains of pepper that fell into the flame burned like embers, adding to the effect. Then he squirted something else in the top of the cone, causing steam to pour out the top and some side openings. Using a spatula, Chef Kazuki pushed the “onion volcano” towards the diner directly in front of him – Liz. As he did so, the chef loudly tapped on the grill with another spatula while saying, “Toot! Toot! Choo-choo train!” The diners laughed and applauded as the steam died away. “I hope you enjoyed meal and show. Thank you for coming Kyoto Steak and Sushi; please come again.” To another round of applause, he made a formal bow to the diners, shut off the grill and wheeled his supply cart away.

         “I’ve heard about places like this,” the lady to Robert’s right was saying. “I thought they were just stories! That show was excellent.”

         “And what about your food,” he asked.

         “Delicious,” the lady said around a bite of medium-rare teriyaki steak. “Between that and the show, it was more than worth the price.” Turning to her companion, she said, “Daryl, we are definitely coming back here!”

         “I agree, Toni, if we stop in town again. After all, we don’t get ‘here’ too often.”

         “In that case, my captain, we’ll find one back home!” The man brought a finger to his moustache, giving the lady a mild shush. She giggled as she gave him a quick kiss. Seeing the looks of surprise on Robert and Elizabeth’s faces, the lady said, “I’m sorry, I’ve been rude. I’m Toni, and this is my husband Daryl. What are your names, please?” After Robert and Liz introduced themselves, Toni added, “We’re in town for a few days on business, and I had heard this was a great restaurant. I certainly wasn’t lied to!”

         “It was fantastic,” Daryl chimed in. “And trust me, we’ve seen a lot of restaurants over the years. All over the country…” Daryl glanced at his watch.

         “I take it that you and your wife have been here before?”

         Liz tried (and failed) to hide her blush. “Actually, Toni, we’re not married,” Robert replied. “This lovely lady is my girlfriend. Yes, we’ve been here several times before, when we’ve wanted to splurge on dinner. Since I’m leaving town on Tuesday on a business trip, I wanted to really enjoy this weekend and make it special.” Possibly include – So I’m treating her to a night on the town.”

         “In that case, show this pretty lady a really good time. And honey,” Toni said to Liz, “enjoy it while you can. Because once you get married, it may not happen very often.” Daryl just smiled and shook his head.

         “How long have you been married?”

         “Well, Liz,” Daryl replied. “Let me think. We had the ceremony in 1975… wow, 35 years!”

         “Holy cow,” Robert said in astonishment. “Please don’t take offense, but I have to ask – how do you do it? I’ve been divorced for quite a while – long before I met Liz – and I barely made my marriage last seven years.”

         “Well,” Toni said with a big smile, “Love has kept us together.”

         “That it has,” Daryl chimed in. “Not to mention that my wife does most of the talking and tries to keep me silent.” Toni gave him a light backhand slap on the chest. “Folks, I hate to sound rude, but I’m afraid we need to get going. We’ve got after-dinner plans we need to make.”

         “Geez!” Toni exclaimed. “Would you look at the time? Say, are you two doing anything Monday evening?” Liz said no, while Robert said he had to pack for his trip. “Packing doesn’t take that long, Robert… especially for a guy.” As everyone chuckled, Toni fished two small cards out of her purse. “Once you’re packed, bring this lovely young lady out here Monday evening. I think you’ll have a good time.”

         “Thank you very much,” Robert said, putting the cards in the inside pocket of his sport coat. “I hope you folks enjoy your visit.” Everyone at the table paid their checks and made their way outside.

         “Oh, that was fun,” Liz said. “And that couple – married thirty-five years and still enjoying each other’s company! They are damn lucky to have that.” Seeing a pained look on Robert’s face, Liz stopped walking and turned to face him. Putting a hand to his cheek, she said, “Relax, honey. It was your ex who had the affair, not you.” Not trusting himself to say anything, Robert simply nodded yes. “She was the failure in keeping you two together.” Pulling him closer, Liz added, “Frankly, I should be grateful to your ex. If she’d been faithful enough to stay with you, then I wouldn’t have you now.” Robert grinned as Liz rubbed her nose against his. “Okay, big shot, what other surprises do you have in store for me tonight?”

4

         Arm in arm, Robert and Liz slowly walked upstairs to the mall’s entertainment complex. As they got closer, they saw a large crowd gathered in front of the cinemas. “Hmm… must be something special going on here tonight. You have any ideas?”

         “I can’t think of any movies that would pull a crowd like this. Wait a minute,” Liz said, lifting her head off Robert’s shoulder. “This crowd’s not in line for the movies; there’s hardly anyone at the theater entrance! Why would… is there something happening at the arena tonight?”

         At the far end of the mall’s entertainment complex was the Wine Stone Arena, a medium-sized concert hall known for handling plays and various stage acts. It was the favored venue for shows that wanted a more “intimate” setting than afforded by a large sports arena (such as the Guilford Center downtown, which regularly hosted basketball and hockey games), or “older” acts that had a core following of fans but no longer drew a blockbuster audience. It was also big enough for shows that used light extravaganzas, pyrotechnics and “in the audience” auxiliary stages. “Okay, do you know something…”

         Instead of joining the waiting crowd, Robert led Liz to the V.I.P. ticket entrance. (While most of the seats were standard music hall / theater seating, the front three “V.I.P.” rows had two-person loveseats, small tables and wait service.) At the gate, he pulled two tickets out of his inside coat pocket, being sure not to lose the cards from “Daryl and Toni” in the process. The couple then took an elevator to the lower level, where they were escorted to their second-row-center seats.

         “Okay, mister,” Liz said as she saw extensive lighting equipment around the arena. “SOMETHING is going on here. I’ve seen concerts before, but nothing this elaborate. The only act I can think of with a stage set up like this… wait a minute… you didn’t…” With a smug smile, Robert showed her the tickets. “You rat bastard… you got us V.I.P. seats to see ‘The Arctic SkyDragon Symphony’! How did you –”

         “You mentioned it last month, honey.” Gently grabbing her neck from behind with his left hand, Robert pulled Liz’s face closer. “You’ve been raving about that CD they put out last summer. And I happen to like them as well. Plus, I wanted us to have a big night on the town before I leave town on Tuesday.”

         “I know,” she said, her crest visibly falling. “And I know we’ll talk on the phone a lot over the next two weeks. But it’s not the same as sitting next to you… feeling you next to me.”

         Tilting her chin up with his fingers, Robert said, “I agree. Phone line affection sucks. So I wanted to make sure we had a REALLY good time before I left.”

         “But the cost –”

         Robert cut her off with a gentle finger on her lips. “You let me worry about that, honey. I made sure I could afford it.” As Robert’s net worth was much more than he let on, it had not been a problem. Raised in a frugal household, he had learned that money was to be respected, not thrown about wantonly. He had kept the same attitude after his company took off, preferring to live in a modest split-level house with a decent yard and drive a less expensive car instead of spending money on “flashy status symbols” that were often more of a headache than they were worth. “The only thing I want you to worry about tonight is having a good time.”

         “I already am –”

         “Excuse me, please.” Robert and Liz looked up to see an Asian lady who barely looked 20 years old, dressed in an upscale waiter’s uniform that resembled a no-jacket tuxedo. “I’m Adele; I’ll be your waitress tonight. Can I interest you folks in something to eat? Or perhaps something from the bar?”

         “I’m not hungry,” Robert replied, “but I could do with a beer. Do you have Heineken?”

         “One of our best sellers, sir. And for you, ma’am?”

         “A glass of white wine, please.”

         “We have a Napa Valley Chardonnay that is quite popular, ma’am. Would you like that?”

         “Yes, please, that sounds delicious.”

         “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

         “Wait,” Robert said as the waitress turned away. “Do you have something along the lines of a cheese plate?”

         “With or without fruit, sir?”

         Turning to his left, he looked at Liz and asked, “With fruit?” When Liz nodded yes, Robert turned back to the waitress and said, “Yes, with fruit please, Adele.”

         “One Heineken, one glass of Napa Valley Chardonnay, and a fruit and cheese plate. I’ll have that out to you in a few moments.”

         After the waitress walked away, Liz said, “now let’s see how good she is.”

         “Oh?”

         “Yeah, Robert. She took orders from at least three other tables, and didn’t write down notes on any of them. Let’s see if she can keep everything straight.”

         “We’ll know she screwed up if I get Pinot Grigio or Merlot, you get a Coors, and our food turns out to be hamburger sliders.” Not a fan of domestic beer, Liz cringed at the mention of Coors. “But I think we’ll get what we ordered; there was something about her that hinted at both confidence and intelligence.”

         “Okay,” Liz said warily. “But if I get a Coors, you’re the one drinking it.” Robert just chuckled, confident he would be proven right. Their order arrived perfectly a few minutes later. After sipping their drinks and eating some cheese, the couple leaned back into their loveseat. Both found it much more comfortable than each having an individual theater seat – especially the lack of an armrest that would keep them from getting close.

         The concert soon started with a rock-and-roll, laser-light and video opening number that got the crowd cheering and yelling. After the second song (where several “symphony” members with electric guitars and microphone-equipped violins descended from the rafters on platforms), the concert evolved into a combination of rock opera and Christmas carol with both slow and fast-paced numbers.

         During a medley of slow songs (with narration in between each), Robert wrapped his left arm behind Liz, resting his hand on her left elbow. Liz experienced a second of panic – he’ll find out about me! – before realizing he was only pulling her closer. Then she snuggled in as the familiar comfort of the couch across from her fireplace took over. Unless a song inspired cheering and hand clapping (including clapping to the beat), or one of them needed a drink, Robert and Liz remained that way for most of the show. The big exception was when the eight backup singers (four men and four women) came into the front rows of the audience during a long, fast-paced rock instrumental number.

         “No, no… please, not me,” Liz tried to protest when one of the male singers urged her to dance with him.

         “Come on, you chicken,” Robert goaded as he playfully prodded her to get out of the loveseat. “Get out there and dance!” Giving in to the inevitable, Liz stood up, earning cheers from the people around her as she started dancing. A few minutes later, one of the more lithe lady singers pulled Robert to his feet. (Unlike Liz, he didn’t hesitate at the opportunity.) The lady and Robert were soon dancing with gusto, to large amounts of applause from the audience around them (including Liz, who was enjoying the “turnabout is fair play” moment).

         “And you keep telling me you can’t dance,” Liz said when Robert returned to their loveseat. “From the way I saw you gyrating out there, you’re not giving yourself enough credit. Either you’ve been holding out on me… or maybe,” Liz playfully teased, “she gave you some sort of special motivation! Now fess up, which is it?”

         “None of the above,” Robert laughed in her ear. “I’m not sure what it was, but I got caught up in the music and started moving. Though I will admit,” he teased back, “that lady was able to, shall we say, ‘motivate’ me to do the best dancing I could do.” Robert was rewarded with a <SWAT> on his left shoulder.

         “Oooh… I swear, you men! You are such hormone-crazed animals at times!” With a hint of a smile and an eyebrow lift, Robert looked down to Liz’s face. The smile he saw there told him Liz knew exactly whom Robert was leaving with – and it wasn’t anyone in the band. As the music slowed, they returned to their “fireplace snuggle.”

         A short time later, the “story” portion of the concert was over. The group’s leader introduced the backup musicians and singers, and then announced they were going to do a few more songs and asked everyone to stick around. Robert had no intention of leaving; even if he had, he knew that Liz would give him a very HARD elbow jab in the ribs for suggesting it. His girlfriend (their physical and emotional closeness told Robert their relationship was much more, a possibility he had at one point decided would never again happen in his life) was currently in musical heaven. Robert had no desire to bring her back down to Earth before the end of the show.

         After another round of introductions (this time all the lead musicians), the Arctic SkyDragon Symphony performed its last three numbers of the night. They took their bows to several solid minutes of standing-ovation applause and cheers. As the band walked off the stage and the audience started to leave, an usher came to Robert and Liz with a note. Once they read it, the usher said, “If you would follow me, please.” They did so, following the young man back stage with several other “dancers” from the audience.

         The group spent the better part of an hour chatting and joking with the members of the band, especially the backup singers who had gone dancing in the aisles. The band’s leader also made comments, as did one of the guitarists and the lady lead violinist. Over numerous amounts of bottled water (the band needed fluid replenishment, not alcohol), everyone present agreed that the evening had been fantastic. “And you, my dear,” Liz’s dancing partner said to her, “are an energetic, vivacious and fearless lady to get up and dance the way you did. Sir, you should be proud of her.”

         “Fearless, hell!” Liz retorted. “I had to be coaxed and cajoled out of my seat!”

         “That may be,” replied Eric Gianouli, her impromptu dancing partner. “But once you started dancing, you threw caution to the wind. Trust me, not everyone does. I love it when that happens; it helps to make a great show.”

         “Liz, you may have needed cajoling,” singer / dancer Elaine Makris added. “But your boyfriend here sure didn’t! I’m not sure I’ve ever had someone get out of a seat and dance with me that quickly! For a second I thought I was going to get mauled…” With arched eyebrows and leering voice, she added, “in a good way! Though it might have bumped our show above a ‘PG’ rating if that had happened!”

         Everyone laughed as Robert blushed a deep crimson. “I’m sorry, Elaine. I certainly didn’t mean to do that, despite what Liz here might suspect.” That got Robert another <SWAT> on his arm as other people laughed. “I was flattered by the invitation and moved by the music. That’s all I can say.”

         “Don’t worry, Robert, I’m just kidding,” Elaine said with a giggle. “Seriously, all of you who joined us tonight were very good sports.”

         “And because of that,” said band leader Jonathan Fremme, “we’d like to give you a token of our appreciation.” Before they knew it, each “dancer” was handed a copy of the band’s latest CD, along with two concert t-shirts. “We tried to guess on the sizes; please check if they’ll fit you.” It turned out that Robert and two of the other audience members needed bigger sizes, which were procured immediately. After a few more comments, Fremme said, “I hate to do this, but we’re going to have to call it a night. We all need to get some sleep before leaving town tomorrow morning. Again, thank you all, both for coming to the show and for helping us make the night so special.”

         “You’ve made it special for us, sir,” Liz said. “And I plan on seeing your show the next time you come to town.”

         “Thank you, Liz. We love having repeat customers.” With a lot of laughter, the audience members were escorted to the arena exit. There everyone got a shock, as a rainstorm had moved in during the show. When asked, the usher said this was the only exit they could use, as the mall had closed for the evening and they would not be able to walk through. Taking Robert’s lead, each of the men told his respective date to wait at the door while they ran to pull their cars closer.

         Five minutes later, a well-doused Robert was driving Liz back to her house. But even the cold of the rain couldn’t dampen their spirits (especially Liz’s) in the wake of the concert. “Robert, when we get to my place, come in and dry out for a few minutes. I’ll make us some fresh coffee.”

         “I’d love that, Liz.” The rest of the drive was spent in silence. Not for a lack of things to talk about, but because Liz had fallen asleep with a smile on her face.

5

         Liz walked into the kitchen in a red soft cotton sweat suit, running a towel through her hair. She found Robert sitting at the dinette table, sipping a cup of coffee, his hair mussed up and a well-used towel draped around his neck. “Sorry I can’t give you any dry clothes,” she said. “But even if they fit, I don’t think my clothes would exactly look good on you… or even ‘proper’, for that matter.” It was all Robert could do to keep from spitting his coffee out.

         “Thanks a bunch, honey. That was almost perfect timing.” Standing up and walking over to Liz, he added, “Why do I get the feeling you were practicing that line upstairs?” On arriving at Liz’s house, Robert had insisted that she change into something dry and warm. She did – once she had hung Robert’s sport coat in her utility room to drip into the open washer, given him some towels to dry off with and poured him a cup of fresh-brewed Kona blend coffee. Robert had managed to drink half his cup while toweling his hair dry. “Grab your coffee, Liz, and enjoy the fire. I’ll join you there in a few minutes.” He had also started a fire in the family room fireplace while Liz was upstairs; she walked in to find it blazing its warmth into the room. As she curled up on the couch, Robert darted out the front door. He walked in a few minutes later with a small duffel bag, one Liz recognized as an “emergency travel bag” he kept stashed in his Equinox. He stepped out of Liz’s laundry room in his own set of comfy sweat clothes, his slacks and shirt dripping into the washer along with his sport coat.

         “Thank you, honey,” Liz said as he sat down next to her. “That fire feels wonderful. And when the hell did anyone say anything about rain in tonight’s forecast?”

         “Not that I can remember, or I would have had an umbrella with me.” Scooting closer to Liz, he put his cup on the coffee table. “And that was a cold rain. Granted, we are in the Midwest in November; we’re probably not going to get many warm rain showers right now.”

         “True, honey,” Liz said. Putting her own coffee cup on the table, she slid closer to Robert. “But hey… this just gives us another excuse to cuddle up.”

         “Like we need an excuse,” he chortled. Soon the two were next to each other, staring with half-open eyes at the fire. “If I haven’t said this before Liz, I’m saying it now – I love you.”

         “I love you too, Robert.” Resting her head by his shoulder, she said into his ear, “I love everything about you. Your hair with its flecks of gray, your lopsided grin when you’re thinking about mischief –”

         “I never think about mischief.”

         “Oh, bull! Tonight was all about your mischief… and I enjoyed every minute of it.” She rubbed her nose against his. “I love the way you treat me like a person, not some object to have on your arm. I love how you make me feel… I feel wanted, needed, loved… it’s been years since I felt that way, Robert. I almost…” Liz’s voice trailed off as she realized she was about to open a door she didn’t want to open.

         “ ‘Almost,’ Liz? Almost what?”

         “I’m… I’m almost ready to make love to you, Robert.” It was the truth… but not the whole truth. Oh, God, she thought. I almost let that it slip out that time… here’s hoping I can keep that secret a secret.

         “Well, my dear… I am ready to make love to you. But I’ll wait; I want it to be special for both of us… and if one of us is feeling rushed, that special flies right out the window.” Sighing with relief on the inside, Liz snuggled closer. “Of course,” he added, “I could always drug and brainwash you into being my adoring slave, if you like.”

         “Oh, dear GOD,” Liz laughed. “You’ve been watching too many of those B-grade science fiction movies again, haven’t you? Or looking at strange porno sites on the web? You know,” she said with a smile, “I never figured you for a net-porn type of guy.”

         Throwing his head back in a loud guffaw, Robert replied, “Not hardly, my dear! But you wouldn’t believe some of the crap I find on people’s computers when we do repair and cleanup work. Some of it is laughable; some of the stuff is downright scary. But enough of that,” he said with a softening voice. “Anything dealing with my company can wait until Monday morning. Tonight, honey, my attention is on you, and the things I love about you…”

         “Such as…”

         “Well, let’s see… I love the way the firelight dances in your eyes. The way you don’t wear much makeup and let the world see the real you…” Liz smiled at this, but inside felt she was hiding even more. “I love how you roll with surprises and problems, and don’t let them get you down. I love your blindness…”

         “Blindness?”

         “Yes… after all you have to be blind to be able to look at an ogre like me.”

         “Oh you… knock it off!” she laughed as she <SWATTED> his arm. “Now go on… tell me the real reasons you love me.”

         “The real reasons I love you… like I said, the way the firelight plays in your eyes… the joy on your face when we go out, even if it is a surprise… the way you make me feel loved and special, something that I had almost given up hope on. The way I feel when we’re together… I love you, Elizabeth Courtland, for you.”

         “If I didn’t know any better,” Liz said with a slight tremor in her voice, “I’d say this was a marriage proposal. And if it is, I’m extremely flattered…”

         “Well… please don’t be disappointed, Liz, but I’m not proposing. I’m not quite ready yet, and I can tell you aren’t, either.”

         “You’re right, Robert, I’m not. But it still feels good to hear and think about.” Stretching her neck, she gave the man a light peck on the lips. He returned the kiss… but did so stronger, and with more passion. Despite herself, Liz began to respond, running a hand along his chest. She soon felt herself sliding backwards, with Robert lying atop her. “Robert, honey… please, wait a second…”

         “What’s wrong, Liz?”

         “Well… if we get any more active, we just might roll of this couch and smash the coffee table. I’d rather not risk either of us having wood or glass splinters in our backs, or me needing to replace any furniture.”

         “Hmm… I think I have an idea.” Rising up from the couch, Robert stood and held a hand out to Liz. Taking it, she followed him to the open floor on the other side of the coffee table. Robert sat down first, motioning for Liz to join him in front of the fire (an invitation she readily accepted). They held each other close for several minutes, Liz’s head resting on Robert’s left shoulder. Then with his right hand under her chin, Robert lifted her face to his. Their lips melded together in a deep, passionate kiss. When they broke apart, each looked into the other’s eyes; then Liz put a hand behind Robert’s neck and pulled his mouth to hers.

         Oh, my God, rang through Robert’s mind. Is this possible? Is it really happening? Am I actually finding LOVE in my life? Love beyond what seemed possible? Despite the warnings from old emotional scars, Robert desperately wanted to believe he had finally found the lady he was meant to be with, and hoped beyond hope that this moment was the indicator, the arrow pointing towards happiness. God in Heaven, I beseech you, please do not be playing a game with me! Please let this be true! As the mutual kisses continued, Robert’s right hand floated upward to caress the left side of Liz’s neck.

         At the same time, Liz was massaging the back of Robert’s neck. On occasion, her tongue would dart through the gap in his lips to parry with his tongue (and he would return the favor). At the same time, her left hand was caressing his chest and neck before dropping to his right side. Oh… oh, yes, she thought to herself. Yes, please… hold me… touch me… Robert moved to her right side, concentrating his kisses where her neck and shoulder met. God, yes… Oh God… oh Robert, my love… hold me, touch me… take me… As Liz’s head lolled to her left, Robert slid his hand down her chest from her left shoulder. Love me… yes… ye-no… no… NO! “NO!!”

6

         Totally startled by the scream, Robert backed away while still holding Liz close, his right hand resting just above her left breast. Both of their faces were framed in shock. Then Liz took Robert’s right hand and kissed it. As she did so, Robert looked down in shame.

         “I… I’m sorry…” he stammered. “I… must have… gotten carried away… I’m sorry, Liz, I didn’t mean… to go so far… with you…” Robert started to move away, only to find Liz would not let him go. Each looked in the other’s eyes, finding both sadness and confusion. Then Liz leaned down and kissed Robert’s hand again. “Liz… are you angry with me? If so, please tell me so we can work it out.”

         “No, Robert… my love… you haven’t done anything wrong.” Damn, damn, damn! She thought to herself. I knew it was too good… too good to last and not talk… and now… now he’s going to find out the AWFUL truth about me. I hope I can survive this… and reassemble the pieces this will shatter me into. “It’s not you at all, honey… it’s me.” Me… Liz Courtland… the freak.

         “Okay, Liz… I am getting more and more lost by the second here. We’ve been dating for several months… working towards what happened between us in the last fifteen minutes. Everything I’ve seen says you’re wanting us to be together as much as I am, if not more so.”

         “God, yes, Robert! Damn it to hell… I love you! You have been the sunshine in my life these last months. You’ve made me feel like I could actually LOVE again! And be loved by someone!”

         “I feel the same about you, Liz. Hell, you pulled me all the way out of the shell I crawled into after my divorce from Miranda. And once I found you, I wanted to STAY outside, not crawl back in like I had before! Damn it, I am ALIVE for the first time in almost five years… and it’s all because of you.

         “And it’s not just me, Liz. Over the last several months, you’ve been a bright red rose opening its petals.” Several tears fell from Liz’s eyes as she choked up. She nodded yes, acknowledging the truth of what he was saying. “And now that we’re here, you’re closing up and backing away. Please, Liz… tell me what’s going on, help me to understand.”

         “I’ll try, honey.” Just please don’t hate me when I’m done. “You see… there’s something that I don’t like to admit about myself. I face it everyday, yet hide it from the world. And until now … I’ve hidden it from you.” Pausing for a moment, she looked down as she added, “I hid it from you because I don’t know how to face it… how to bring it up… how to talk about it. How to admit to you, my love, that I’m not…” Liz buried her face in her hands, unable to keep herself from crying. Once she regained her composure, she said, “You deserve better than me, Robert.”

         “I deserve you, Liz… I love you!”

         “You love what you’re able to see, Robert!” Liz yelled this not at him, but to the piece of floor she was sitting on. She couldn’t yell at her boyfriend, because he had done nothing wrong save falling in love with her – and that was not wrong, for she had fallen in love with him as well. In Liz’s mind, the “wrong” was to have let Robert get that close, feel that strongly about her (even though she returned those same feelings for him). She had given him the chance to be himself, in the process turning out to be the man she wanted – and in her mind could never have. Because that would mean revealing the truth she tried to hide even from herself, let alone the rest of the world. To reveal the truth that made her, in her mind, a freak.

         “Yes, Liz, I do love what I see.” Tilting her chin up so they looked each other in the face, he added, “I see a beautiful woman, both inside and out. I see a fiery spirit, a loving heart, and a determined and intelligent mind. And yes, I see a woman with a beautiful body, who has so much going for her besides her physical looks.” Pausing for a breath, he added, “On our fourth date, I wanted to quote an old country song title, but you didn’t give me the chance.”

         “And just what,” she asked, “would that song be?” Waiting for the answer, she wondered how in the Hell country music (not a usual part of Robert’s repertoire) had come into the conversation.

         “It’s a song by the Bellamy Brothers, called, ‘If I say you have a beautiful body, would you hold it against me’.” Her head spinning, Liz cracked a smile despite her onrush of fears. “But you never gave me the opportunity… because that night, you invited me inside for coffee, and we snuggled on your couch for the first time. Your beautiful body… your beautiful mind, your fiery spirit… you held all of that ‘against me’ that night.” Pausing for emphasis, he added, “You let me come farther into your life than I expected at that point… and I found happiness when I got there.”

         “Please, Robert… please, do not say any more. If you do, it will tell me just how much I’ve hurt you… something I never wanted to do.” Seeing the confusion (and pain) on his face, Liz resolved she would somehow find the courage to tell him her secret. I’ll let the chips fall where they may, she thought, and glue them back together – if that’s possible. “And now that I’ve hurt you, my love, I fear I’m going to have to do it again. When I’m finished, you’ll see why I’ve done everything I have. I can only beg of you to find a way to understand.”

         “I’ll try, Liz. But right now… well, most computer internal hard drives spin at 5400 rpm while working,” he said, finding a refuge in his work (as he had done for the first two years after his divorce). “That means the drive plates where the data is stored turn a full circle 5400 times every minute. I think my head is spinning at least twice as fast as that right now.”

         “Ill try to slow it down if I can, my love… but I fear I may send you spinning even farther.” Silence reigned for several minutes; Robert could not find anything to say in reply, and Liz was trying to voice what she had worked to deny for so long. “You’re an incredible man,” she finally said. “Loving, kind, resourceful, supportive, intelligent, and special… too damn special to have to deal with this. But I fear you must. You see…. something happened nine years ago. And because of it… I’m not a… a ‘complete’ woman, a –”

         “A complete woman,” he interrupted. In his fugue from the events of the last 20 minutes, Robert’s mind went racing in multiple directions. As a result, a “comedy valve” opened, trying to relieve the tension and confusion he felt. Before Robert realized it, he was paraphrasing a line he remembered from a late-1970’s sitcom: “Are you telling me that you, Elizabeth Courtland… are the result of the most diabolically successful sex-change operation to have been performed by medical science?”

         “What?” In her own cloud of fears, Liz wasn’t hearing everything Robert said.

         “Liz, I asked if you were once a man… and had undergone the most stunningly successful sex-change operation in human history.”

         When Liz finally comprehended what Robert was asking, she fell backwards in a roaring gale of laughter. “Oh… oh my GOD! I… No… oh, good heavens, Robert! No, my love, it’s most certainly not that!” Liz was rolling from side to side, literally grabbing her ribs in pain because she was laughing so hard. “Oh, God… please, Robert… let me catch… catch my… Oh God…” Panic crept into her voice as she said, “I can’t… catch my… breath…”

         “Where’s your nearest inhaler?” Liz had told him early on that she was an asthmatic, and kept “rescue” medicine inhalers in several different places in her house (as well as in her purse) in case an attack started coming on. But in his mental state, he couldn’t remember where she said the inhalers were.

         “End table,” she gasped, pointing to the end of the couch closest to the front door. “In the drawer.” Robert ran around the coffee table, jerked open the aforementioned drawer, and saw the inhaler sitting right there. He brought it back to Liz and helped her sit up. Liz took two quick puffs, breathing down as much of the medicine as she could. (She had specifically told Robert in the past to let her use the inhaler if something like this happened, not to puff it for her. And if she couldn’t use it herself, he was to call 911 immediately).

         “That’s it, Liz… calm down… relax… slow your breathing down… let yourself breathe…” Over several minutes, her breathing slowly returned to normal, with another puff of medicine in the process. “That’s it, honey… ease down… relax…” When Liz took two slow deep breaths, Robert also started relaxing – and mentally berating himself. “Judas H. on a horse!” he swore, angry that he had seemingly put Liz’s life in danger. “Liz, I’m so sorry… I forgot about your asthma… my God, I could have KILLED you!”

         “No you couldn’t, my love.” Taking his hand in hers, Liz added, “If it had been that bad, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you where to go to find this.” Liz reached over and put the inhaler on the coffee table. “It’s right there in case I need it again. And frankly, my love… if I were to ‘die laughing,’ then I will have died well.” Liz pulled Robert’s hand to her chest. “And you can feel my heart beating, proof that I’m alive and kicking. I’ll just need to rest… and maybe not laugh so hard.”

         “Honey, I have to ask… why was that so funny?”

         “It just struck me as silly, Robert, that I would have had ‘the operation,’ as people used to refer to it.” No, I didn’t have that one, but there is one I will have to tell you about. “I am very much female, and have been all my life.” Her voice grew somber as she added, “For the last nine years, however, I’ve not been what some would call a ‘normal’ or ‘complete’ woman… and that’s what you deserve… not me.” Unable to say more, Liz’s head lowered in self-shame.

         “You’re not a ‘normal’ or ‘complete’ woman, you say. I take it I don’t ‘complete’ you?” Robert’s voice was not accusatory, but bitterness was glaringly apparent in his question. “Is there another man? Or is it… another woman?”

         “What?” This time, the words raced through Liz’s own fog – and she realized the specific hurt Robert was feeling. “No… there’s no other person of any sort, Robert. Please, please let me explain…”

         “It’s happening again…” Robert was shaking his head. “It’s Miranda all over again…” Liz tried to comment but couldn’t – words were tumbling out of Robert’s mouth as his mind went back to the events that led to his divorce from Miranda Towson Kelsey. Realizing a damn had burst, Liz sat and listened as Robert talked in detail about things he’d told no one – not his own family, his minister, not even a counselor he had seen for a year after the divorce was finalized.

         Liz silently uttered a quick prayer – Dear God… if this is the last time I get to be with Robert, please allow me to help him heal in some way. Then she sat quietly, drinking in details she had never expected to hear from anyone about their life. And realizing in the process that Robert’s emotional pain was as great as her own, if not greater.



The following is from a previous version that is still being edited

7

         “Are you sure you don’t want to go out with us, Robert?”

         “I’m too bushed from work, Miranda. Besides, I’d be intruding on ‘ladies night out,’ wouldn’t I? Plus, I’m on call this weekend, and I don’t want to have to leave halfway through something… especially something good.”

         “Aw, crap, that’s right. How is it you get so many weekends on call?”

         “Just ‘lucky,’ I guess.” Robert’s reply had been heavily laced with sarcasm. “I guess that’s what happens when you work your way into ‘resident guru’ status. The bosses always want you on a short leash in case everything goes to Hell in a hand basket. Either that, or,” he said with resignation, “they’re figuring out that I’m looking at striking out on my own at some point, and punishing me for it.”

         “Well, if that’s the case, then you need to make your exit at the first opportunity. But don’t be surprised if they are keeping you close to save their bacon.” Leaning down to his face, she added, “After all, we both know who the real brains behind that company are.” As Robert started blushing she kissed hi cheek and said, “I’ll try not to be too late, but don’t wait up for me. And if you do manage to stay out of the office tonight, don’t stay up too late with those b-grade sci fi movies you like to watch!” They chuckled and kissed again before Miranda walked towards the garage, slinging a large canvas shoulder bag on her left shoulder.

         “Have a good time, honey!” Watching her shapely body walk away, Robert thought to himself, I wonder what she’s got in the bag this time? He had made a disturbing discovery several weeks ago, one in what turned out to be a string of such events. And no, Miranda, I’m not watching any movies tonight. I’ve got some “research” I need to do.”

         From where he sat in the living room, Robert could both hear the garage door open and close (the opener was a loud machine, despite being only three years old) and see the lights of Miranda’s car shine on the front windows as she backed out of the driveway and turned to drive down the street. Waiting several more minutes (both to make sure she had actually left and debating whether he really wanted to do what he was planning on doing), Robert got himself a can of Coke from the kitchen before retiring to the study.

         “Alpha-sigma-three-one-paranormal,” he said upon walking into the room. His business computer (there were two machines in the room, one for his business and one for his and Miranda’s personal use) whirred to life. Even before starting his computer services company the year before, he had installed voice-recognition software on any home computer he used as part of his job / career in the computer industry. When Miranda has asked why, Robert explained that it would keep anyone from hacking into the system when he wasn’t around, whether they broke into the house or tried to get in through their online service provider, as it would only respond when the correct password was delivered by his voice.

         Robert then tapped the keyboard of their home / personal computer several times, bringing it out of sleep mode. It responded right away with a password prompt, which Robert correctly entered. The first thing he did, as he always did with any computer he was using, was to initiate a virus scan. (His business computer did it automatically upon receiving the verbal activation code from Robert.) Once that was done, he opened various browser, e-mail and Internet chat programs, checking their histories for activity and downloads. God, I hate this, he thought to himself. Here I am… spying on my own wife. But if what I think I’ve seen – Hell, admit it, you’ve seen and KNOWN these things for the last year – is true… our marriage is all but over anyway.

         Robert had been holding on to his marriage, not wanting to accept what was becoming more and more true. He had exerted “the will not to believe” (a phrase he’d read in a novel, uttered by a priest in Europe at the start of World War II) to avoid the evidence that Miranda was having an affair, and had possibly had several during their six years of marriage. But the evidence had been mounting over the last year; no longer able to avoid it, Robert had gone in search of further proof. It wasn’t so much to prepare for a confrontation (he already had more than enough information for that likely event). Robert Kelsey was now looking for the why, not the what.

         Why had Miranda gone looking for companionship outside their marriage? Had he been too much of a workaholic? Was he somehow not meeting her needs? And if so, how long had this situation existed? And why hadn’t Miranda come to him, talked to him, made him realize what was going on and that things needed to change if they were going to stay together? And if she hadn’t been willing to talk to him… was the marriage really worth saving in the long run?

         Thank God we don’t have any kids, Robert thought as he opened file after file to peruse. At least we won’t be tearing them apart as well when all is said and done. A lot of the files were totally unrelated to their current situation, dealing mostly with home finances, Miranda’s curling club and their schedule of matches, and various recipes she had downloaded from the ‘net. Then something caught his eye – a receipt from an online sex toys and supplies store, dated the previous Monday. After reading for a moment, Robert made sure there was paper in the printer (and more paper in storage if he needed). The receipt showed an $84 purchase of sexual lubricants and aphrodisiacs – none of which Miranda had ever used with him. They’re probably in her shoulder bag right now. Either that… or she’s making use of them.

         As much as Robert had not wanted to admit it, this “purchase” was the latest in a series of items and events he had uncovered over the last year. His suspicion had first been aroused when Miranda’s statements about her “Ladies nights out” had not always jibed with what he heard at the office (some of his coworkers’ wives were also friends of Miranda and supposedly on these ladies jaunts with her). The biggest “early kicker” in the whole mess had happened when he heard one of his coworkers (over the cubicle wall) raving rather lewdly about his adventures with his wife the night before – a night when his wife had supposedly been to the movies with Miranda and three other ladies. Not wanting to ask questions (that would have been very out of character or Robert, who rarely talked with other people about their private lives or his), he had simply listened and made mental notes. Then he had checked the ‘net for a review / synopsis of the film Miranda said the group had seen. What he found did NOT match Miranda’s description of the film; Miranda’s telling didn’t even have the cast correct.

         That was the first in a string of inconsistencies Miranda gave to Robert. As they compounded, a part of Robert’s mind became suspicious. Se he placed a “tracer program” on the personal home computer to see what sites Miranda was visiting (she had become voracious in her appetite for the Internet over the previous two years). The findings of the program reported the website URL’s and IP addresses to his work e-mail; he then used his work computer at home to track down what she was looking at.

         At first, it appeared that Miranda was simply sexually dissatisfied, as there were a variety of porn sites. (He could somewhat understand that, as his employer had sent him on some long business trips and she was left alone, though he wished they could have talked about it.) As he kept going through the various websites, Robert came to a startling realization – after a certain point (about six months before his “investigation”), all of the sites were geared to lesbians.

         Is Miranda gay? A closer check (made possible by finding her login and password; Robert had made a good guess as to where Miranda would jot such info down, because she wasn’t that great at remembering such things) showed he was partially right. If the posts she had made were correct, Miranda was not lesbian but bisexual, and feeling increasing cravings to satisfy the “female” side of her sensual desires. While clearly stating she still deeply loved Robert, the “feminine” side of her was growing too strong to ignore after having been “suppressed” since her marriage. Though reading such things hurt Robert, he also realized that he would obviously not have been able to satisfy those “feminine” desires.

         It also hurt him that Miranda felt she had to hide this part of herself from him (an aspect of her life, her posts said, that had existed since late high school / early college years). A part of Robert’s mind said, Miranda, if you had only TALKED to me! We might have been able to work something out! He even thought at that point that, as long as Miranda was careful, he could have actually endorsed such actions so long as he knew who else was involved and felt he could trust the lady.

         Then her e-mails through one sex-matchup website turned more serious. By the time that had happened, Robert saw, Miranda had been in one-time flings with several different women. But the last one, a lady named Naomi, had turned more serious. The letter Miranda sent after her fourth clandestine meeting with Naomi (any other lady Miranda had been with had been a one-time fling) went beyond sexual pleasure, expressing love for this woman.

         It had also listed Miranda’s personal e-mail address (the one she used at home), with the instruction to contact Miranda there the next time Naomi wanted to meet her.

         That little missive had sent Robert roaming through Miranda’s e-mail files. Sure enough, within a week Naomi had written back, expressing the desire to “again share our special love, a love that most men will never understand.” Three more e-mails had set up the rendezvous, at a hotel on the west side of town. (It appeared that this Naomi was also married and frolicking behind her husband’s back.) Robert had done some more checking, finding that the meeting in question had been on a “ladies night” where Miranda said she had bought several rounds of drinks at a club (the alcohol purchase was listed on her credit card bill, as well as a purchase at a local sex shop afterwards).

         Then Robert came across the pictures. They were posted on one of the “lesbian love” websites (as he’d come to call them in his mind). Not only were they nude shots of Miranda, but also pictures of Miranda and her lover engaged in lesbian sex. Though Robert (like many straight males in the United States) had harbored visions of a “three-some” with two ladies where he got to watch the ladies have sex, seeing his wife – the love of his life – actually engaged in lesbian sex (with the proof of it posted for all the world to see) had almost made him throw up. Yet in morbid fascination, he could not pull his eyes away from these pictures. In his fascination, Robert also noticed that after a certain point, the room Miranda and her lover used did not change. Comparing the dates of the pictures versus her e-mails, he found a letter that invited Miranda to Naomi’s home, giving the address. The reason Naomi felt “safe” in doing this was because her husband (a man named Galen) was out of town on his own business trip for several days.

         The very next e-mail from Naomi told Miranda how good it had felt to Robert’s wife “making love to me in my own bed, instead of some out-of-the-way hotel… from now on, my love, we’ll meet here, and I’ll have everything ready for us when you walk in the door.” Robert also found Miranda’s very enthusiastic reply. It clearly and blatantly described a need for a “feminine” sexual touch – one Robert could never supply.

         Yet even this did not shatter Robert’s desire to save his marriage. Getting an idea of just how important this was to Miranda, a part of him resolved to try to find a way to “work things out” so his wife could meet all of her needs. In the meantime, he kept up his “research” and bided his time, waiting for the “right opportunity” to breach the subject.

         It didn’t mean, however, that Robert was sitting at home brooding. Part of his “research” had been to find out just where Naomi lived, should a confrontation be necessary. After checking Google maps, Robert had ventured out one evening to find the “house of ill repute” in question. It was a night that Mirada was supposed to be on one of her “ladies night out” trips. About an hour after she left, Robert had called Mirada’s cell phone to say he had been called into the office on a client emergency. (It was a good ruse on his part; as one of his employers best staffers, he often got called in to fix the critical “can’t wait” problems.) He also asked Miranda what she and her friends were doing; Miranda said they were having dinner at a French restaurant on the east side of town. Robert told Miranda he didn’t know when he’d be home, that it was best to reach him on his cell if something came up, and to make sure to have a good time with the ladies before hanging up.

         Then he put the cell phone on the passenger seat of his Ford Focus and started crying. He had proven beyond a doubt that Miranda was lying to him, and wondered what else she was lying about. The proof was sitting across the street – Miranda’s Honda Civic, sitting in the driveway of one Naomi and Galen Barkley. Their house was in the Stoneleigh Hills subdivision, a housing development on the city’s far northwest corner, not far from the airport or Robert’s office. Not to mention being clear across town from Café Bordeaux, the restaurant where Miranda had claimed to be having dinner with her friends Julie, Rose and Serena.

         Regaining his composure, Robert drove to (of all places) the parking lot of his office building. As he had suspected (hoped), it was empty. Once he parked his car, Robert broke down and cried again, this time for over 20 minutes. It wasn’t the fact of Miranda’s lesbian trysts that had shattered him; it was realizing just how far she would go (having heard the sounds of a restaurant in the background of her end of their phone call) to deceive him.

         Yet he couldn’t pull himself away from her, not yet. Looking at his wedding band, the marriage vows they had both spoken rang clearly in his head: For richer or poorer… in sickness and health… I take thee as my husband / wife… for as long as we both shall live… and with this ring, I thee wed. Also coming to mind were the words of the minister, when he said, ladies and gentlemen, it is my extreme privilege and pleasure to present to you… Mr. Robert J. and Mrs. Miranda T. Kelsey.

         What God has brought together, these two now made one with each other, let no man on this Earth tear asunder.

         “Well, reverend,” Robert sobbed inside his car, “you called… for no man… to break… to break Miranda and I apart. But you never… said anything… about a woman… doing that… to our marriage!” His crying continued for several more minutes, until Robert felt he could cry no more. When the tears abated, part of him wanted to file for divorce right then and there, while the other part wanted to take Miranda in his arms, make love to her, and try to keep her in his life.

         “Aw, Hell,” he said to the empty car. “I’m not going to get anything figured out sitting my car in an empty parking lot.” Just as he reached for the ignition – his phone rang. And Miranda’s ringtone was unmistakable, because it was her favorite Evanescence song. Bring me to life, he thought bitterly before answering the phone. I guess you’ve found someone else to do that for you no, haven’t you? Calming down (to make sure the was no rancor in his voice), he opened the phone and said, “Heya, hon! How’s the ladies night going? You all out painting the town red?”

          “Not quite,” he heard her laugh. “We’re leaving the restaurant and heading to the movie theaters across the street. There’s a new Robert Redford film playing that Julie has heard good things about. She and Rose and I are going to see it. How are things going at the office?”

         “Hell, this one has turned out to be a monster Kludge,” he said with not-so-feigned disgust. Knowing where he had seen Miranda’s car 30 minutes ago, Robert also knew that even if she had walked out the front door of her “tryst lair” as he pulled away, it would have taken her 45 minutes at best to get to Café Bordeaux from Stoneleigh Hills. And the same restaurant noises he’d heard in the background of his earlier phone call to Miranda were coming through now, loud and clear. “I’m not sure when I’m going to be home, hon; this may be a 3:00 or 4:00 a.m. job. It’s a needle-in-a-haystack job trying to find a database problem with one of the company’s West Coast clients. Though part of me thinks it may actually be a hardware or connection problem on their end, but no one in Sacramento wants to buy that one yet.”

          “Sacramento? You mean THAT crazy contract is why you’re not home tonight?” Miranda was well aware that Robert’s employers had landed what was at first thought to be a lucrative contract providing computer services and solutions to a financial services company with its national headquarters in Delaware and several regional headquarters, one of which was in Sacramento. The Sacramento office had been chosen as the “test bed” for Robert’s employers to implement their system; if it worked there, it would be expanded company-wide. “I swear; that thing has been a pain in your guys’s ass from the start!”

         “You’re telling me? Ugh,” Robert said, “this project hasn’t worked right from day one. Frankly, I still suspect their IT guy in Sacramento is purposely gumming up the works, but I can’t think of why he’d do it.” That was also a very real suspicion he’d voiced to Miranda numerous times, one that Robert had yet to fully prove to anyone. “Listen, honey, I better let you go in case Sacramento calls again; you know how the company counts the number of rings on the tape recording before we answer the phone to make sure we’re providing ‘prompt service.’ You and the ladies have a good time at the movie, okay? And tell me all about it when we’re both home tomorrow.” Let’s see how accurate you are this time, he thought to himself. “If I get home real late, I’ll just sleep on the couch so I don’t wake you up.” While rare, it was something Robert had done several times when an emergency call in had lasted till the wee hours of the morning.

          “Okay, hunny-bunny,” he heard over the phone. It took all of Robert’s will power not to cry; until that night, the phrase had been one of their most romantic endearments to each other. To hear those words tonight, after what he had learned and proven in the last hour, felt like a knife being twisted in his stomach. Yet it also signaled some ray of hope in Robert’s mind that all was not yet lost, that he could reclaim his wife as his lover and somehow, someway work her “feminine” desires into their relationship without totally destroying their marriage. “Hey, before I forget – do you need me to stop at the store on the way home for ay breakfast stuff? And how much coffee are you drinking tonight?”

         “I’m already partway through pot number one,” he replied. “And yes, my stomach is rebelling at me, but I’m going to have to keep drinking the stuff as long as I’m going here.” She IS thinking about me… maybe there’s some hope yet. Though he could drink it in small amounts, large doses of coffee – such as on call-in nights – tended to irritate his stomach. And when that happened, only milk seemed to calm it down once Robert got home. “I can’t remember how much milk we have in the fridge; could you get a half gallon of skim as insurance?”

          “Count on it, hunny-bunny. I may get some hash browns and sausage, too. Should I just plan on seeing you in the morning, then?”

         “That’ll probably be best,” Robert replied while thinking, thank heavens I shut the computers down and put everything away before I left. “Now, I’ve got to get back to work, honey,” he said, thinking and hoping there might be some possibilities once he did sit down and talk to her about all of this. The fact that she was asking about his stomach and overall health, he thought, proved that Miranda still loved him. Though I wonder how her lady-lover is reacting right now… is she as hurt as I’ve felt tonight? “I’ll see you at breakfast… hunny-bunny.”

          “See you then, hunny-bunny,” Robert heard before the phone line went dead. He sat in his car for several minutes, considering his next move. Going straight home was out of the question; he at least had to make it look like he had been in the office for several hours tonight. With that decision made, he climbed out of the car and made his way into the office. Walking towards his cubicle, he saw that Chuck Epperson, one of the newer company staffers, was also in the office.

         “Well… hey, Robert,” he said nervously. “What… what brings you in here… on a Friday night?”

         “I’m the on-call tech schlub this weekend,” he replied. “Miranda’s out with some friends so I figured I might as well come in and see if I could get ahead on some the new project proposals. After all, that Rylerson Industries contract will be HUGE if we can get it, so our presentation and design plans need to be top-notch from the get-go.”

         “Oh… ah, okay.”

         “What are you working on tonight, Chuck?”

         “Aw… I fell behind on the follow-up from Piedmont Aviation. It’s got to be finished by Monday, and if I’d rather work on it now than miss the NFL games Sunday. Especially the Sunday Night game; the Giants are hosting the Packers, it should be one hell of a shootout!”

         “So long as both sides show up to play,” Robert retorted. “The Giants have been a Jekyll-and-Hyde team this year, and Green Bay is finally emerging from the shadow of Brett Favre. Not to mention that Bradley, the Giant’s outside linebacker, is a game-time decision; they lose him and there goes most of their pass rush.” Barron Bradley, widely believed among New York Football Giants fans to be the “second coming” of Giants great Lawrence Taylor, had badly sprained his left ankle in the previous week’s game against the Washington Redskins. The anchor of their “stacked sack attack” pass rush, the Giants were waiting as long as possible before deciding whether Bradley would play. And with the team needing every win it could get (both the NFC East and NFC Wildcard Playoff spots were still up for grabs with four weeks left in the regular season), the Giants weren’t going to make any announcements that might tip their hand to the opposing team. “Right now, I’ll give the edge to the Giants – so long as Bradley plays. Without having to face him, the Packers can protect Rodgers all day long, and they got both shot and deep receiver threats.”

         “Ahh-baloney,” Chuck replied, for once not sounding nervous. “The Packers d-line is ancient, fer chrissake! They can’t stop the run, and the Giants have Percy Hillyard at halfback! He’s won the rushing title the last two seasons!”

         “Yeah,” Robert scoffed, “Running behind a much tougher offensive line. The Broncos never should have let him go in free agency. I’m beginning to think Denver wants to throw everything away! Hell, what talent they didn’t lose in free agency, they traded away without getting squat in return.” A new regime had arrived in Denver, both in ownership and management, and had been remaking the team in their image ever since – much to the team’s detriment. “They’re acting like John Elway is going to come out of retirement, wave his magic throwing arm over them and make them an instant Super Bowl champion.” The longtime Bronco great still lived in the area, and had in the last few months become one of the team’s loudest critics. At first, sports pundits were claiming he had sour grapes because his bid to purchase the team had been passed over in favor of the current ownership. Now over a year later, those same pundits were beginning to agree with Elway. “Anyway, I need to get to my computer. See you later, Chuck.”

         “See ya, Robert.” Robert made his way to his cubicle, settling in to see what make-work he could complete. Ironically enough, 20 minutes later a problem did occur with the Sacramento operation, though nowhere near as difficult to figure out as Robert had fibbed to Miranda about. Another hour after that (and with the problem solved), he saw Chuck Epperson slowly walking down the aisle towards him. “Robert, you got any Tyelnol? Or Motrin? I’ve been looking at that screen so long my eyes are about to bug out, and I’m getting the headache from Hell.”

         “Here you go,” Robert replied, pulling a bottle of generic Ibuprofen out of his desk. “Take two of these and call me at the end of the shift.”

         “Funny guy, aren’t you?” Chuck tapped out two tablets, closed the bottle and handed it back. Then he popped the tablets in his mouth, washing them down with a cup of coffee. “Why don’t they warn you that staring at computers is hazardous to both your sanity and your eyesight?”

         “And scare away potential employees? Yeah, right,” Robert scoffed. “Listen, there’s no sense in burning yourself out in one night. Go home, get a few hours of sleep, and come back this afternoon. That project’s not going to go anywhere while you get a few hours of shut-eye,” Robert said from experience. “Besides, if I remember right, you’re not that big of a fan of college football, so working this afternoon won’t take you away from any games you might want to catch… whereas working on Sunday will DEFINITELY put a crimp in your NFL viewing.”

         “Yeah, college football lost me when they went to that cockamamie BCS system. It’s a complete crock of…” Chuck took a moment to calm down. “Sorry about that. As far as I’m concerned, the BCS is a bunch of BS designed to make sure the ‘big boys’ in college football can get all the glory. Not to mention that bowl game money talks. God, I can’t wait for ‘March Madness’; at least that’s a real championship.”

         “And what about expanding the basketball tourney like they’ve been talking about, and adding another round?”

         “Then I’ll really know that the money is talking, because you’ll be awarding mediocrity with a berth in the tourney. No, keep it at the 64… 65… 68, Hell, I’m too tired to remember how many teams are in right now; I just know that adding another whole round to the ‘Big Dance’ is a crock. Especially when you’ve got teams with losing records still making it into the tourney on occasion as it is.”

         “When you start talking like that, Chuck,” Robert chortled, “I know you’re too damn tired to get much productive done. Go home, get some sleep, come back this afternoon when you’re more alert.”

         “Okay… as soon as I get my desk shut down, I’m out of here. I’ll see you Monday, if not sooner. Though I hope I don’t’ see you here this afternoon.”

         “If you see me here this afternoon, I will have been here way too long. See ya later.” Robert watched the man walk first to his desk, then out the door. He waited for another five minutes before accessing a special program suite on his computer. Once he did, Robert did NOT like what he saw there. Okay, Chuck… those files you accessed tonight have NOTHING to do with Piedmont Aviation. No wonder you were so nervous when I popped in here. Along with being a ‘resident guru,’ Robert had been tasked by his bosses to set up a “security sweep” program to monitor who was accessing what files, and when. Over the last month, there had been hints that competitors were learning company secrets, and the bosses wanted to find out who it was. Robert also suspected he was not the only staffer doing such work; after all, “Who watches the watchmen?”

         Starting work on his newest “case for the prosecution” (Chuck was actually the third staffer he had found accessing and either transmitting or copying information they shouldn’t have been), Robert was actually grateful for the diversion. Not because he was probably going to end up destroying Chuck Epperson. Robert found no joy in trashing other people’s careers, even if they were siphoning off trade secrets for various personal gains (as Chuck appeared to be doing). No, tonight the work was providing him a needed distraction from his personal situation – one he was glad to have without even realizing it.

         By the time he had reached a stopping point and had cataloged all his new findings, Robert looked up to see the clock reading “03:07:32” – seven minutes after three in the morning. “Well,” he muttered to himself, “I did tell Miranda to not wait up for me. Living room couch, here I come.” After making sure all of his own work was properly secured and encrypted, Robert shut down his computers and made his way to the car. Soon after starting his drive, Robert turned off the CD player. For some reason, Warren Hill’s “The Passion Theme” seemed oddly inappropriate to him. And when he got home, Robert was so worn out that the couch could have been plywood and he still would have slept soundly. Miranda woke him at 11:00 a.m. for breakfast.

8

         “Robert… my God… I knew your marriage had turned bad, but I had no idea you had gone through something like this.” Not sure what to do, Liz tentatively put a hand on her boyfriend’s – Dear God, I HOPE he’s still my boyfriend – shoulder. When he didn’t shrug or brush it away, she felt a small flicker of hope.

         “Yeah,” he sighed, “I ended up being the reason three people were fired. Granted, they were breaking the rules, and it was proven in court that two of them were effectively doing ‘commercial espionage’ for different competitors.” Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, he added, “the last I heard, they were both at ‘Club Fed’ minimum-security prisons, though I don’t think they went to the same place. One because he was sending his information across state lines to the people he was really working for; he was busted when the feds did their big computer-crime crackdown a few years ago. The thing is, the Feds were mainly trying to get porn traffickers at the time. But they decided to make an example of him and fight commercial espionage in the process.” Taking a sip of coffee (Liz had refilled their cups shortly after he started telling his tale), Robert added, “The other one got busted on federal laws because he was trying to get into a defense department contract operation we had to get information for a different contractor.”

         “And the third?”

         “In the state pen at Colson for embezzlement. It turned out he was trying to hack into our bank accounts, as well as those with several of our local clients, in order to set himself up in some private tropical paradise. Instead, he got a five-to-12 reservation at the Graybar Hotel for his troubles.” Taking another sip of coffee, Robert added, “and that’s not all. Not long after he was incarcerated, his wife divorced him.”

         “Oh, my!”

         “Went back to her maiden name, legally changed the last names of their kids after she won custody in the divorce, did everything she could to disassociate herself from Jerry Freivogel. As far as Sheila was concerned, Jerry no longer existed. And she made sure the kids felt that way as well. Oh, they know Jerry is their dad… but since he’s a convicted felon, they want nothing to do with him.”

         “And how do you know so much about all of this?”

         “Sheila was our receptionist.” Hearing Liz gasp in disbelief, he added, “We checked everything and found that Sheila had no clue what Tom was doing. After his conviction, he tried to tell Sheila he had done it for both of them, but she refused to accept that. Especially as she knew of at least one affair he’d had. A lot of us figured his real plan was to scoot off to the tropics with whatever bimbo he had at the time and leave Sheila and the kids high and dry – and possibly tagged to pay for his mess.”

         “Robert, you don’t feel bad for bringing about justice, do you?”

         “No, Liz, it’s not that. I did what I had to do, what was necessary. And yes, Chuck, Jerry, and Mitch Grunhard all deserved jail time for what they did. It was, after all, grand larceny in one form or another. I guess after that… I lost my taste for being the company watchman.”

         “Love, this is all important… but it wasn’t what I was talking about earlier, and you know it.” Sipping her own coffee, Liz was glad she had added some milk to it.

         “Yeah,” he sighed, “I know you meant Miranda. And yes, there’s more to tell about that saga… a LOT more… Let’s get some more coffee before I totally unburden on you.” The two of them walked into the kitchen and refilled their cups. As Robert walked back to the fireplace (still going, though not as blazing as before), Liz pulled a green box from the freezer. As she sat down next to Robert (despite everything that had happened that night, they were still at most an arm’s length from each other), Liz opened the box and put it on the coffee table where they could both reach it.

         “Well… I’ll be… I haven’t had these in I don’t know how long.” Pulling the chocolate-covered wafer out of a plastic sleeve, he popped it into his mouth. “Ahh, yes… Girl Scout Thin Mint Cookies, still as good as ever.”

         “The Hansen sisters down at the end of the block are both in Girl Scouts. They seem to know I’m an easy touch; I’ve gotten several boxes of cookies from each of them the last three years. Plus, these cookies go great with coffee.” You’re the one who’s been talking, Robert, she thought to herself. And I can tell you have more to talk about. I’ll wait all night if I have to for you to open up… especially if it keeps me from having to talk about my freakishness.

         Liz’s wait turned out to be a short one. After three cookies and half a cup of coffee, Robert was again traveling back into his past…

* * * * *

         Still at a loss for what to say to Miranda and how to say it (or even bring it up), Robert spent the next several months surreptitiously keeping tabs on his wife. She still maintained her various subterfuges (especially the “ladies night out”) but Robert now knew what to look for, and where.

         To his dismay, about once a week several new pictures of Miranda and Naomi would appear on one lesbian porn / lesbian love website or another. This was in addition to continued e-mails of love and affection between the two ladies as they made their various plans for secretive rendezvous. As time went on, Robert saw a new note in Miranda’s letters that, in hindsight, wasn’t all that surprising… Miranda still loved Robert, but was growing increasingly attached to Naomi, and feeling torn between husband and lesbian lover.

         Then Robert was forced to take a break from his “spying” (which his heart hated while his conscience and sanity demanded it). Of all things, it was the Sacramento project that had been such a pain in the ass for the whole company that forced the break, by sending him to the West Coast for two weeks after a series of problems had occurred. And the pressure was on – the client’s home headquarters in Delaware was demanding a fix of the problems “once and for all, or we yank the contract.” Faced with that ultimatum, Robert’s bosses (somewhat reluctantly, because they wanted his expertise available for other projects) decided he was the person to go and root out the problems.

         The night before he left, Robert came down from packing his suitcase and pulled Miranda aside. “Honey, if you have any plans tonight… could you cancel them?”

         “Uhm… yes, I can. Michelle and I were going to go the movies… but with you leaving town tomorrow, I can push that back a night or two. Why?”

         “Well… because a part of me feels I’ve neglected you, not paid much attention to you, and… and I want…”

         “Listen, hunnny-bunny,” she said, caressing his left cheek, “you most certainly have NOT neglected me. Not in the slightest.” Robert noticed she said it with a straight face. Either she means and believes that, he thought to himself, or she’s such a good liar and bluffer that I need to sponsor her trip to Vegas for the World Series of Poker. “I know what your job and your schedule are like; I knew it when I met you, I knew it when I married you, and I know it now. And I don’t feel one damn bit neglected.” Wrapping him in a hug that put their chests against each other’s, she said, “You’ve protected me, cared for me, loved me since before we said the vows. You’ve made sure we have food, clothing, shelter… and yeah, I’ve helped on that a little,” she replied, forestalling the comment she knew was coming. “But you’ve done the lion’s share. Hell, you even help with the laundry,” she chuckled. “How many husbands do that?”

         The laughter that comment produced was enough to break some of the building tension. “Okay, I do a lot of things to keep us safe and warm,” Robert admitted. “But sometimes I feel like I’m not showing you enough affection. I love you, and I want to make sure you know that before I leave on this trip.”

         “Robert,” she said as she shook her head, “I don’t know where you’re getting this, but you have nothing to prove to –” Miranda’s comments were cut off as Robert’s lips pressed against hers. Her body jolted, seeming to stand up straighter as the kiss went on. Then it grew taller still as Robert fondled her left breast. “Like I said,” Miranda gasped when they came up for air, “I don’t know where you’re getting this idea, where it’s coming from…. But I’m liking it.” The smile spreading across her face was one of sensual passion, and couldn’t be faked.

         “Then make love to me, Miranda, because I want to make love to you.”

         They started into each other’s eyes before Miranda pulled Robert’s mouth to hers for a long, sensual, luscious kiss. As the kiss continued, Robert’s hand again found Miranda’s breast. In return, Miranda plunged a hand between Robert’s legs, fining something very desirable there. As their mouths again parted, she asked, “Do you have protection?”

         “Yes, hunny-bunny. I thought ahead.” Though both had promised on their wedding day to accept any children God provided them, the couple had also decided that children were not something they wanted to rush into. Between that and a history of uterine problems and miscarriages in Miranda’s family, she and Robert had readily agreed to use condoms whenever they made love. Knowing they had not made love in over a year, Robert wasn’t sure the ones in their nightstand would be effective and had stopped at the pharmacy for a fresh box on the way home that afternoon.

         “Let me make a phone call.” Miranda walked into the kitchen and dialed the phone. “Hey, Michelle?” Robert heard from the living room. “Can we push that movie back to tomorrow night… Robert’s leaving town tomorrow for at least a week, and we want to have a night to ourselves… oh, okay… yeah, that’ll work out fine. Okay, I’ll see you then. Bye!”

         “Thank you, hunny-bunny, ” Robert said as Miranda sidled back into his waiting arms. Looking down at her (Miranda was on the small side of petite, carrying only 105 lbs on her 4’11” frame, and practically dwarfed by her foot-taller husband), Robert saw a flame in her eyes that had been absent for some time. At least, it’s been absent for me, he thought to himself. Then he dismissed it; tonight was a night to think about Miranda, not her erstwhile lesbian lover. The sight of Miranda’s nipple clearly trying to poke through bra and t-shirt further threw those thoughts out of Robert’s mind.

         “Hunny-bunny,” she replied, “you are a LOT more important than a movie with Michelle… more important by far.” Licking her lips, she continued, “And at the risk of sounding a little callous, I can get together with Michelle for a movie any night this week. I’ve only got you for tonight.” Then she pulled Robert’s face down for another long kiss. This time they both caressed and fondled each other’s bodies, Robert concentrating on Miranda’s right breast while she glided a hand over and over his crotch. When the kiss broke, Miranda seemed almost to pass out, her body sagging against Robert’s. Robert was not concerned; this was a part of their foreplay, Miranda’s physical signal that she was ready to fully surrender herself to her lover. Scooping her up as he always did, Robert carried Miranda up to the bedroom, where their king-sized bed was already turned down. From there, it was game of slow striptease as each helped the other remove one article of clothing at a time.

         Almost time, Robert thought to himself. Time to claim my love. The thought, this time, had nothing to do with any lady Miranda might have been seeing. It was actually a thought he had every time he made love to Miranda, an affirmation that what was about to happen was meant to happen. Reaching over to the nightstand, he opened the drawer and pulled out a small foil package (a quick check in the low light told him it was one he had bought that afternoon). Still sealed, he traced it up Miranda’s body from her “sensual gateway” to her mouth, caressing both nipples along the way. Once at her mouth, Miranda licked the package before taking an edge in her teeth.

         Then she took a firm grip and started tugging. In less than a minute she had succeeded in her goal – not to pull the packaged condom out of Robert’s hand, but to tear it open on one side. When she let go, Robert pulled the condom out and dropped it in Miranda’s waiting hand. “If you would do the honors, my dear…” Miranda followed the cue and rolled the condom into place.

         Miranda moved her hands to Robert’s face. “I love you, Robert. And I am here for you.” The words were part of their lovemaking ritual. “I want you… I need you… I love you…” Looking directly into his eyes as she licked her lips. Miranda breathed, “Please, Robert… take me… become part of me… fill me… complete me… make me whole with you…” the next thing heard in the room was Miranda’s sensual moan as Robert fulfilled the request, making the first moves for he and his wife to indeed become one…

* * * * *

         Oh, my God, Liz thought, a tear sliding down her cheek for this powerful yet fragile man sitting next to her in front of the fireplace. No wonder… please forgive me, love; I had no idea those words about me would trigger such PAINFUL memories for you. “Robert, my dear,” she said while partly choking up, “If you want to stop, if it’s too painful, I understand. If you want to keep going, I’m right here.” For a moment, Robert looked at Liz; she wasn’t sure what the expression on his face meant. Then he reached back, moved the box of cookies to the floor in front of them, and slid over to hug her. Still holding Liz, Robert continued his story…

* * * * *

         The next morning, Miranda took Robert to the airport. Both of them still basked in the glow of their sensual union the night before, and were still moving slowly as they made their way through the terminal to the airside containing Robert’s gate. “Have a safe trip, hunny-bunny, ” Miranda said as she caressed his left cheek. “And I’ll see you next week.”

         “Hopefully,” Robert replied, the reality of his work trip poking through their mutual euphoria. “I’m hoping this can be taken care of in one week… but this mess out in Sacramento has gotten so kludged that my visit may be extended. Wish me luck.”

         “You don’t need luck… just be the ‘Resident Guru’ you are, kick that computer’s rear data dump device, and come on home.” Robert nearly fell over laughing at his wife’s comment about the backside of a computer; he thought only the nerdiest of nerds in his office used such terms. “Hey, you and your tech-language have tended to rub off on me a little bit after several years of marriage.”

         “Okay,” he chuckled. “I’ll try to speak ‘regular English’ more often.”

         “Not ‘English,’ Robert.” Taking on a slight British accent, Miranda added, “Remember, we speak ‘American’ here. Just ask my mum or my aunt Hilda.” Miranda’s mother had been an English “War Bride,” a lady who had married a U. S. serviceman while he was stationed overseas. In this case, Agatha Ravensdale had married Air Force Captain James Towson, an F-111 “Aardvark” Weapons Systems Officer (WSO) assigned to the 48th Tactical Fighter wing at RAF Lakenheath.

         Though born in the U.S. after her father was reassigned to Nellis Air Force Base in Nevada, and having grown up with a completely “Yankee Doodle” childhood, Miranda had learned English both in American schools and sitting on her mother’s knee. Both her mother and her Aunt Hilda (who had also come to the states on the arm of a U. S. serviceman) had strived to put an English spin on Miranda’s otherwise American life – including insisting that people in the United States did not truly speak “English” but a variant they called “American.”

         “I stand corrected, my dear,” Robert chuckled. “It’s a good thing I was born and raised in the Midwest, where we don’t have a strong accent.” Affecting a bad Southern drawl, he added, “Just imagine whut your mother wouldda though if wuz from the Deep South.” Pulling her close, he dropped the accent and said, “I better get through security and to my gate. The last thing I need is to miss my flight to Phoenix – even if it was because I was saying goodbye to you. I don’t think my bosses will be too appreciative.”

         “Phoenix? What happened to Sacramento?”

         “Connecting flights, hon.” Though a smart woman, Miranda on occasion didn’t make immediate mental connections. “Fly U. S. Airways to Phoenix and wait there for an hour to change planes, then fly on to Sacramento. The wonders of the ‘hub and spoke’ airline system.” Leaning down, he kissed her cheek while she bussed his. “I’ll let you know when I’m coming back, hon.”

         “Okay, hunny-bunny. I’ll be waiting. I love you.” Another quick kiss, and Robert walked to the security checkpoint. Going through the line, he felt a tap on his shoulder as a Transportation Security Agency officer said, “Sir, come with me please.” Following the TSA agent, Robert grimaced as he realized he had somehow been randomly selected from the crowd for a full-body pat-down instead of the usual metal detector walk. At one point he turned around to face the way he’d come, shook his head and started laughing.

         “I fail to realize,” the officious lady agent said, “just what is so funny, Sir. Aircraft safety and security is a VERY serious matter.”

         “I agree, officer. I’m not laughing at you.” Having further turned 90 degrees to his right, Robert tilted his head to the left and said, “that lady in the black jeans and lilac shirt trying to keep from laughing her head off? That’s my wife. She’s never going to let me hear the end of this.” After looking in the indicated direction, the agent’s facial features softened while she finished sweeping Robert with a hand-held metal detector.

         “Thank you for your patience, sir,” the stocky, late-40’s African-American woman said with much more politeness. “Your carry on items should be waiting for you over there. Have a good trip.” Collecting his laptop case and assorted belongings from the end of the x-ray conveyor, Robert nodded his head as Miranda waved one last time. Then she turned and left while he sat down to put his shoes back on. After buying a decaf latte (an order that confounded the barista to no end; why would you make a latte with decaf coffee?) for four dollars and change, Robert found a chair near his gate and waited for his flight to be called. He resisted the urge to pull out his planning notes for Sacramento, knowing he would have the better part of two flights to look them over. It was just as well, for only five minutes later, he heard, “Your attention please… U. S. Airways announces the pre-boarding of passengers for Flight 265, non-stop service to Phoenix, at gate B-19. Those passengers on U.S. Airways Flight 265 with small children or needing special assistance please proceed to gate B-19 and have your boarding pass ready. We ask that all other passengers on Flight 265 please allow those passengers with special needs a clear path to the boarding gate; we will begin regular boarding of passengers on Flight 265 in approximately 10 minutes.” Unlike most of the people around him, Robert stayed in his seat; he knew the airline would be boarding the First Class seats next, and then calling for various sections of the coach cabin where he was booked into an aisle seat. Good grief, people, you’ll get to your seat eventually. There’s no need to crowd each other like sardines in a can. His patience paid off as Robert’s row was in the first coach section called by the gate staff; it allowed him to go by most of the people who had crowded up to the boarding check point right after the first announcement. Five minutes later Robert was settled into his seat, his laptop bag under the seat in front of him. To his surprise, no one else sat in his row, allowing him to slide over to the window seat once the aircraft took off, as well as spread out his working papers on the middle seat.

* * * * *

         “Robert… if I hadn’t known about your divorce, I would have thought that night of love-making would have been the catalyst of keeping you two together.” Liz reached for a cookie, only to find the sleeve empty. Opening the other package of cookies in the box, she pulled one out and scooted the plastic sleeve towards Robert. “Do you still want to talk about what happened?”

         “That night of love-making was beautiful, Liz. I thought…” Robert had to take a moment to catch his breath; during that, Liz squeezed his hand. “Thank you, hon. As I flew out to the West Coast, I couldn’t help but think that Miranda and I had turned a corner and were drawing back together. Little did I know that some of the last grains of happiness were flowing through the hourglass of our marriage…”

9

         Robert ended up spending two weeks in Sacramento. After his second day, he called his bosses to give them an update. He made the call from his hotel room using his cell phone; he did NOT want the Sacramento client’s IT staffers to hear what he had to say. Robert felt he had caught them, despite their attempts to cover it up, purposely giving Robert’s company incorrect info about their computer systems from day one. In reviewing the equipment and software, Robert found it a wonder the system his company had designed was working at all.

         “Their hardware doesn’t match the spec sheets they sent us,” he told his bosses. “Not in terms of manufacturer, models numbers, RAM capacity, hard-storage capacity… the list goes on. They’re using some of the most arcane internal-routing and network-routing designs I’ve ever seen. And here’s the kicker, gang…”

          “You mean it’s worse?”

         “I’m afraid so, Merrill.” Merrill Dirkson was the company’s Chief of Network and System Design, effectively the number-four man in the company hierarchy. “They’re using a knock-off operating system that may not have been licensed by anybody. The only way it’s not a rip-off is if this thing is home grown. And either way, it’s full of Kludge. Bad enough that no system or network could properly work with it.”

          “Oh, geez…” Robert wasn’t sure whose voice he had just heard (the group he was talking to were on a speaker phone), but he could hear the upset in that man’s voice. “I think there needs to be some serious back-checking done. Sir, how quickly can you get us your information?”

         “Wait… to whom am I speaking with, please?”

          “Robert,” Merrill Dirkson said, “that last voice you heard was Barrett Moynihan. He’s the overall director of Information Services for our client, Remington Financial. I asked him to come out to our offices when this mess blew up so bad. Barrett, can you explain your situation to everyone?”

         “Thank you, Merrill,” Robert heard the previously unidentified voice say. “We have had, shall we say… concerns… about the Sacramento IT staff. Even before we hired your company, we had questions as to the actions of our people there and if they were legitimate. Robert, I need you to send me any and all information you can about the equipment and software you personally saw…”

         Moynihan arrived in Sacramento himself two days later. Two days after that, the top four staffers in Remington Financial’s Sacramento IT department were out of work and facing embezzlement charges, and their cohorts at the computer equipment companies were facing fraud allegations. The functions normally handled by the Sacramento IT center were temporarily transferred to corporate headquarters in Delaware. The Sacramento IT center was then gutted of ALL its equipment, to be replaced with the machines and software that company headquarters thought had been previously purchased. What it all meant for Robert was that he would be spending a second week in Sacramento, helping Remington Financial’s remaining Sacramento IT staffers get everything installed, tested and working properly – and doing so most likely without a day off from the project.

          “Hunny-bunny… you can’t be serious!”

         “Totally serious, Miranda. I’m going to be here another week, and hopefully not more than that. This is a mess almost beyond comprehension.” Rubbing his temples as he talked on the cell phone, he said, “How the Hell did I get so lucky to play ‘police investigator’ both inside and outside my company?”

          “There’s a line you’ve said to me about situations like this: ‘Hard work… is the reward for hard work’.” Robert grimaced at being hoisted upon his own petard. “Seriously, Robert, you get these projects because you’re one of their best people. You’ve saved their bacon – and their contracts – multiple times in the last three years. And you’ll d it this time, too. Just do your best – like you always do, hunny-bunny – and everything will be fine.”

         “Thanks for the support, hunny-bunny. Now I just need to find a few things to help me physically get through this mess.”

         “What’s that?”

         “A case of Advil, and a fresh half-gallon jug of milk every day to go with all the coffee I’m drinking.” Hearing the sympathetic chuckle on the other end of the phone line, Robert couldn’t help but join in. That and some good sleep in a few hours. And YOU! You be sure you’re resting as well.”

          “I am, hunny-bunny,” Miranda replied. “In fact, since a certain night last week… for some reason I’ve been able to sleep extremely well…” Robert was overjoyed to hear the “purr” in his wife’s voice talked about how their last love-making session had both reinvigorated and de-stressed her, and that her boss (Miranda worked as a medical transcriptionist at a local rehabilitation hospital) had also notice an improvement in both Miranda’s attitude and quality of work the last few days. “And hey… maybe I can… shall we say… ‘Rejuvenate’ you when you get back from the West Coast… hmmm?” Feeling his body respond to the sexual promise in Miranda’s voice, Robert was suddenly grateful he was in a private office for this phone call.

         “I’ll remember that, Miranda… and quite probably hold you to it. Unfortunately, I need to let you go so I can get back to our latest late-night work-a-thon here. I’ll let you know as soon as I have any inkling of when I’m coming back.”

          “I’ll be waiting to hear from you, Robert. I love you!”

         “I love you too, Miranda. I’ll talk to you soon.” Robert pressed the “end” button on his phone, reassured that his marriage just might survive his wife’s indiscretions. He walked out of the former IT Manager’s office (the man was at home with an electronic tracking bracelet on his ankle; while released on $200,000 bond, the judge had agreed with the district attorney’s office that Royland McEvoy was a flight risk and had ordered the extra security measure) to see a very pained expression on Tori Finchard’s face.

         “Robert, I need you to know… none of us, Bobby, Kelly, Jay, myself… we didn’t…”

         “Relax, Tori,” Robert said as he put a hand on her shoulder. The woman was borderline crying, and the fear in her voice was verging on panic. “Calm down, and tell me what’s going on.”

         “I can’t… I can’t tell you. You… you have to… see this. I can’t… find the words… at least, not without throwing up.” A ball of acid suddenly formed in Robert’s stomach. While the Sacramento IT operations had been moved to Delaware, the resident files had been copied for later use. One very large group of files (it had almost entirely filled one server) had been pass-coded and encrypted, and none of the remaining staffers knew the encryption / security keys. Uncertain of what they had been, Robert had ordered them not be transferred to Delaware until someone could crack the barrier. Tori Finchard was the main person working on discovering the secrets in that file; Robert suspected she had made a very unpleasant discovery.

         “Okay, Tori. Show me what you’ve found.” The two walked to her workstation, where she turned on a monitor and entered her own security code. “Oh, good God,” he said when the first image appeared. “Tori, I need you to find a phonebook.”

         “Phonebook? Why that?”

         “Look in the government section of the White Pages. See if the F.B.I. has an office here in Sacramento. If not, I’m sure they have one in ‘Frisco. If what we’re seeing is any indication, we need them here ASAP.” As Tori went in search of a phonebook, Robert thumbed through the numbers stored in his BlackBerry. “Hello, Merrill? Robert Kelsey. I need Mr. Moynihan to call me ASAP… Yeah, we made another discovery, and it’s a bad one…”

         Forty minutes later, Robert and Tori had been joined by Barrett Moynihan (he had not yet flown back to Delaware) and Agent Todd Creelman of the F.B.I.’s Sacramento Field Office. All four were getting increasingly sick to their respective stomachs as they paged through the collection of images in the formerly encrypted file.

         “Do you have a count,” the agent asked, “of how many images are in this collection?”

         “No,” Tori replied. “No count on the actual images… but I can tell you how much memory space this group of files is taking up.”

         “And that is?”

         “12 Terabytes.”

         “Remember, folks,” the agent said, “I’m not as computer savvy as you are. Where does a terabyte rate compared to a megabyte or a gigabyte?” Tori explained that each name-change of increasing size meant a rough thousand-fold increase. (It was actually 1,024, but Tori decided to keep it simple.) Thus, kilo was one thousand bytes, mega was one million, giga was one billion and tera was one trillion. “And the average picture file is 500 kilobytes to one megabyte in size. So there could be roughly –”

         “One million of these… ‘pictures’,” the agent said in disgust, having dome some quick math in his head. “On one file location… holy…”

         “Agent,” Robert asked, “doesn’t the F.B.I. have an office that specifically looks into this sort of crime?”

         “Yeah,” he replied. “It’s called ‘Innocent Images;’ it’s handled out of the Baltimore Field Division. I’m going to have to give them a few phone calls real soon. I’m also going to have a stenographer come down here tonight to get your statements; I’ll need to know exactly what is involved here and how you discovered this mess…”

         Three hours later, Robert walked into his “home away from home” at the Comfort Suites downtown, dropping his laptop on the couch before turning on the shower. After answering the F.B.I.’s questions about his visit, the computer systems and exactly how the huge stash of child porn had been discovered, he, Tori Finchard and Agent Creelman started cataloging and detailing what they could of the newly discovered files. Tori also detailed how she had been experimenting with various words, names and numbers in order to break the security on the storage drive and discover the contents. The code that unlocked the file – 82carolus12svecha17 – pointed to one of the recently dismissed IT staffers, Charles Candlemeer. A check of the personnel files gave Agent Creelman the address of Candlemeer, while Tori filled in what details she knew of the man: 27, divorced, no children (everyone in the room expressed relief at that bit of news), and something of a social loner. Armed with everything he’d learned so far, Agent Creelman called his boss (who by this point was at home) and got the indictment and search warrant process started. (If there’s anything a senior F.B.I. agent knew, it was which judge to call to get an “emergency” search warrant for a particular crime.)

         While not every file involved children, Robert had estimated at least half of the “items” he had “viewed” over the previous hours contained / featured teenagers and pre-teens. (Several of the images had been especially disturbing to Robert, as the ladies presented there unintentionally reminded him of his quite petite wife back home.) Most were standard “still” pictures, but a good fifteen to twenty percent were assorted “home movies” and other video files. The whole thing made Robert feel sick to his stomach, and “dirty” enough to feel the need for a shower when he walked in the room instead of waiting for the morning. He was grateful he’d not had anything to eat for a while; after the last few hours, Robert was certain he would toss his cookies. Even the apple sitting on top of the hotel room’s mini-fridge looked unappealing.

         20 minutes later, Robert walked out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, his body thoroughly scrubbed pink. Though the images he had seen earlier hadn’t fully faded away, Robert felt better at having done something to rid himself of the effects of the spectacle. The shower had also made him feel “clean” enough to consider getting a late dinner. Looking over some advertising cards in his room while he set up his laptop, Robert surfed the ‘net and found the webpage for a local chicken and barbecue restaurant that looked good. After checking with the desk clerk (who raved about the restaurant, saying that she was enjoying one of their combo platters when Robert called her), he placed an order.

         Robert was back in his hotel room 30 minutes later, carrying three soft drinks from a hotel vending machine and two bags of food. The barbecue aromas had tantalized him the entire walk back from the restaurant, a booming business designed to look like a “mom and pop, hole in the wall” restaurant. Housed in the shopping center just north of the hotel, it was well within walking distance. The stroll (he had taken the time so he could further clear his head of what he had seen) had also energized Robert’s appetite, threatening to wreck his plan of taking the leftovers to the office so he could keep working instead of having to scramble for a fast food burger during the midday.

         As he put the food down on the coffee table, Robert tapped his laptop’s keyboard to bring it out of sleep mode. An “alert” balloon immediately popped up on his screen, telling him he had several e-mails waiting. One was a congratulatory / thank you e-mail from his bosses for the work he had done so far in Sacramento. The date-time group on the letter was from the afternoon, meaning his bosses had no idea yet of the “porn cache” discovery, and he’d have to tell them shortly.

         The next e-mail was a note from his brother Richard, asking when they would get together for an NFL game. Robert dashed off a quick reply while munching on some boneless teriyaki wings, telling Richard that his plans were very much up in the air. While Robert and Miranda very much enjoyed the family football gatherings, the six-hours-each-way drive meant the investment of a whole weekend, including hotel and food costs… and flying was too expensive to consider for one football game. That was followed by a letter from Miranda, also asking about the possibility of an NFL trip (Richard had also e-mailed her, thinking Miranda could wield extra influence). Miranda also expressed her love for Robert, her desire that he come back soon, and a need to be with him. The expressions of love warmed Robert’s heart, reinforcing his hope that his marriage could somehow be saved, or at least modified in a way that could allow him to keep Miranda while letting her fulfill needs he could not address.

         That hope blunted the pain caused by the next set of letters – several auto-forwarded e-mails between Miranda and Naomi. (It was part of the “snooping” Robert had initiated after discovering this part of Miranda’s life, something his heart had qualms about despite the apparent sanity it provided his mind). The “purloined” letters, which had actually been sent over the previous three days, expressed mutual physical desires for each other, and sensual joy at what happened when they fulfilled those desires. Not being gay, Robert had trouble understanding a sexual desire for the same gender, but he was willing to let Miranda do what she needed to do to be “whole.”

         Sitting back while munching some more of his late dinner, Robert realized that was one thing that had been missing from tonight’s discovery – same-sex porn. He was just as glad it hadn’t been present; what he had seen earlier was bad enough. Especially the fresh-faced young ladies; though obviously teenagers, they reminded Robert of Miranda because of her petite stature. The thought of seeing any more pictures of lesbian sex / sensuality (especially involving teenage ladies) almost blotted out Robert’s hunger.

         Robert took a break from the computer to concentrate on his dinner – and catch up on the latest sports news. Turning on the television to ESPN, Robert sat down on the couch to try and enjoy more of his dinner. In short order, a dozen boneless wings and half a bottle of Dr. Pepper had been consumed while Robert learned the latest NBA and NFL news, as well as “informed supposition” about probable off-season trades and free agent moves in Major League Baseball. Most of it washed over him; between the work he’d completed the last few days, the evening’s discoveries, and his continuing emotional turmoil over Miranda, Robert was physically and emotionally exhausted, watching the television in a near stupor.

         After some more food (this time, barbecue brisket with some fries and slaw), Robert decided it was time for bed. A last check of the laptop showed no new alerts; before shutting the computer down and packing it in its travel case, he put the “personal message” category into standby mode so such items wouldn’t interrupt him while at the office the next day. The leftovers were put in the mini-fridge, the lights and television turned off, and a wake-up call arranged before he stumbled into bed. In minutes, Robert’s physical and emotional exhaustion sent him into a deep sleep.

* * * * *

         “Speaking of sleep… don’t you need to get some?”

         “No, I’m actually doing okay. And besides, tomorrow’s Sunday, Robert, and I can sleep in…” Taking a sip of her coffee, Liz added with a smile, “I’ll stay up as long as you need me to, my dear.”

         “Thank you,” he replied, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “There’s not too much more to tell, at least about that trip. Though I did come away understanding what it felt like to be ‘interrogated’ by the cops.”

         “What?”

         “Once we let the FBI know about that porn discovery, they wanted to know EVERYTHING they could. And so did the Sacramento Police, the California State Police, hell, everybody who could found a way to latch on to the investigation. It was like the sharks had smelled a large pool of blood in the water, and swam in for the feeding frenzy. And because of it, we were questioned… and questioned… and questioned yet again. But I guess it all worked out – The FBI ended up taking down a criminal enterprise that covered 12 different states, one that was also into prostitution and drugs. I think a few people in Europe were arrested as well.”

         “Wait,” Liz said, suddenly sitting upright. “I remember that case, it was all over the news. Didn’t they call it the ‘Paradise’ case? And wasn’t there a senator involved?”

         “Almost, hon. It was referred to as ‘Paradise Lust,’ after a website that turned out to be the hinge pin. Several senior congressional and senatorial aides in Washington were involved as customers of the website, and had even recruited some female pages to be ‘models’ for the pictures. The aides weren’t involved in the drug dealing, but it was enough to ruin their careers. One senator and two congressmen resigned over the scandal, and three other congressmen were voted out in the following election. The senator was a very conservative Fundamentalist Christian; after being linked to the porn site, his reputation was so damaged he couldn’t serve out the rest of his term.” Taking a sip of coffee, Robert added, “further investigations revealed that website owners were not only using Remington Financial’s servers as a storage site, but the three senior IT staffers in Sacramento – the same guys busted for embezzlement, actually – were running the picture catalog and using the computers to launder drug money. It was a very sordid scandal. And when we discovered ‘our’ part of it in Sacramento, the FBI put us through the 3rd through 7th degrees making sure WE weren’t involved. Then came the city and state cops; like I said, it was a feeding frenzy that everyone wanted to get involved in.”

         “But they cleared you, obviously.”

         “Yeah, after several days of questioning and some VERY close looks at my career and my financial records.” Shaking his head, Robert continued, “It’s a wonder we ever got our actual jobs done. But we managed it, got all the servers humming on the network, the right software working… and amazingly enough, we didn’t have a problem with Sacramento for another year!” Stretching his arms and back, he said, “You have no idea how good it felt when that United Airlines flight rotated off the Sacramento runway to start my trip home.”

         “Was it just leaving Sacramento behind that felt good?”

         “No… no, at the time I thought there might be other reasons to enjoy the trip back. The e-mails made me feel like there was a chance to save things, as did the phone call the night before I left…”

10

         “That’s right, honey. We wrapped up the last of it this afternoon.” Eleven freaking days after I got here… sheesh! Robert was standing in the IT manager’s office at Remington Financial – Sacramento. “The final checks are done, the network is up and operating, and my flight itinerary is set.”

          “That’s fabulous, hunny-bunny! When are you getting in?”

         “There’s a little tale, I guess you’d say. I’m booked through U. S. Airways, but I’m actually flying on United. And not only that; it’s costing the company less money to put me on three flights to get home instead of two.”

          “But that doesn’t make any sense!”

         “Tell me about it, hon. But I am coming home, thank God. This trip has been such a nightmare… and if I have to hopscotch around the country to end it, then that’s what I’ve got to do. So I’m leaving Sacramento tomorrow morning around 8:45 West Coast time. I go from there to Denver, and then on to Chicago, before finally flying home. If everything goes according to schedule, I should be landing about 4:45. I know it’s short notice, hon, but can you pick me up?”

          “Don’t, worry, hunny-bunny, I’ll be there,” Miranda replied. “If necessary, with bells on. I’ve been talking with Howard; everything’s arranged for me to take off on short notice if I need to.”

         “Better find a way to hold him to that,” Robert replied. “You and I both know how he tends to flip on a dime on decisions.” They had seen Miranda’s boss, Howard Clausen, seemingly change his mind at the drop of a pin on decisions ranging from which dictation and data storage equipment to use, to granting vacations months ahead, only to cancel them days before, claiming the staffing levels wouldn’t allow it. In one case, Clausen claimed he had never signed the paperwork… until Miranda showed him her copy, with his signature. Robert considered the man mercurial at best, and wandered if he might have “personal problems” because of incidents he had heard about (from Miranda and several of her coworkers) where the man had suddenly burst into verbal rages with no apparent warning or reason.

          “Yeah, don’t remind me,” she sighed. “I’ll do my best to be there, but if I’m not, wait for me, okay? And if something changes, your flights screw up, let me know as soon as you can.”

         “I will, punkin. Hey, I’ve still got to finish packing and get things ready for the trip, so I’m gonna let you go. You take care… and don’t party too much tonight!”

          “I wish,” he heard Miranda laugh. “Rose and I are going to a book reading and signing at the West Oaks Barnes & Noble. A mystery author that she really likes, her name is Amelia Suskind, is there tonight.” Miranda paused for a minute, then added, “I’m saving my ‘partying’ for when you get back, hunny-bunny.” The saucy, sultry tone in Miranda’s voice sent a thrill racing through Robert’s body.

         “Hmm… why do I get the feeling whatever jet lag I might have is going to find a very delicious cure when we get home?”

          “Count on it, honey,” Miranda replied. To his surprise, Robert felt his cheeks reddening. Been a while since that’s happened, he thought to himself. “I’ll have a nice dinner waiting for us – bite your tongue; I may not be the gourmet you are, but I can do some tasty Crock Pot cooking – and then we can relax… and possibly more…”

         “Okay, hon… and yes, something like your home-made chicken soup sounds really good right now.” Maybe not all that romantic, he thought to himself, but damn tasty. And certainly a lot better than most of the food I’ve had here. Robert’s barbecue sojourn had been the one culinary bright spot of his trip, and he was almost ready to completely swear off coffee (and beginning to wonder if the word “FOLGERS” had been imprinted on his kidneys). “Barring any problems, I’ll see you at the airport between 4:45 and five o’clock tomorrow afternoon. And you can leave the bells at home. But you might bring me one thing.”

          “Oh? What’s that?”

         “The weather was nice when I left home, and it’s been great here. So I didn’t think to bring a jacket with me. If it’s turned cold, could you bring one for me?”

          “A jacket? Yeah, I can manage that,” he heard her laugh. “I’ll bring you a jacket to keep you warm… then I’ll warm you up in a different way we once we get home.”

         “Gonna make your soup extra spicy?”

          “Why, you… ‘extra spicy’ soup… you keep this up, I’ll let you freeze your ass on the ride home! Geesh … what in the world am I going to do with you, Robert?”

         “We’ll figure that out when I get home. Now, I need to wrap stuff up, send off some final reports and finish packing. And I’m sure that Rose is waiting for you to meet her at the bookstore, so I’ll let you go.”

          “Actually, she’s in the living room.” After a pause, her heard Miranda yell, “Hey Rose, say hello to Robert!”

          “Hi, Robert!” came a different female voice, one Robert recognized as Rose Kellogg, one of Miranda’s coworkers. “And hey, it’s a good thing you’re coming home – Miranda’s getting impossible to deal with at the office! She’s a monster!”

         “Don’t listen to her,” Miranda added. “She’s just causing trouble… AS USUAL!” Miranda yelled at her waiting friend. “Okay, honey, we’re going to be on our way. You take care, have a safe trip home, and I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

         “I will, punkin,” Robert said into his phone. “You two have a fun evening, and behave yourselves. And don’t be out too late!”

          “No worries there; we both have to be at the office at the butt-crack of dawn tomorrow. But it’ll be worth it, especially if it will let me get out of there early. Plus, I have to get everything for dinner ready tonight so I can throw it in the Crock Pot before I go to work. Take care, hunny-bunny, and see you tomorrow!”

         “See you tomorrow, punkin,” Robert said before pressing the “end” button on his phone. He then walked back onto the main IT floor of Remington Financial – Sacramento to say his goodbyes to the staff (including Barrett Moynihan, who roundly praised Robert for his work). Then he drove back to the hotel, stopping to get some more boneless chicken wings and sides for dinner. “Hello, walls,” he said as he walked into the room. “You’ve only got me here for one more night, so enjoy it!”

         Setting his dinner on the coffee table, Robert set up his laptop for what he fervently hoped was the last time in Sacramento. In short order, he dashed off a report to his bosses and replied to several work-related e-mails. Seeing no pop-up alerts for personal letters, he decided that things must have somehow cooled off between Miranda and Naomi. (Over the last week, Robert had forgotten to reset his e-mail alerting program to include personal e-mails. And in his hope that the marriage could and somehow would be salvaged, he had not gone “snooping” on his own in that time.) After glancing through several sports-related websites, Robert shut down and packed away the computer.

         Flipping through the assorted cable channels, Robert was surprised by the number of war / patriotic films he saw. Then he remembered – Veterans Day was this week. Seeing an add on TNT for the following show, he stopped there to catch the last 20 minutes of the D-Day invasion movie, The Longest Day. That was followed by one of Robert’s all-time favorite movies – A Bridge Too Far, the Sean Connery film about the unsuccessful “Operation Market-Garden” campaign in 1944. He spent the commercial breaks packing and organizing his luggage, and deciding what clothes to wear on the trip home the next day.

         By the time that film was over, Robert had everything ready for the morning (clean clothes out and ready, luggage packed except for toiletries, laptop packed away and sitting with his luggage). Between the stresses of the last two weeks and a belly full of good boneless wings and sides, Robert started getting extremely drowsy. He tried to watch the next film, the 1965 Henry Fonda film The Battle Of The Bulge, but sleep won out about halfway through. Setting his wake-up call, his last thought before fading out was that TNT was being serious about their “historical progression” of war films.

* * * * *

         The morning got off to a mediocre start for Robert. He had woken up on time, showered and shaved, and gotten everything packed away as planned. The first “bad sign” came as he finished getting dressed – the shoelace broke as he tried to tie his right shoe. Fortunately, he carried spare shoelaces in his “traveling emergency kit,” along with such things as Motrin, Pepto-Bismol and a stash of travelers checks should his wallet go missing. That made the right shoe a minor inconvenience instead of a major hassle.

         The next problem happened at the hotel’s complimentary breakfast buffet, which was late being set up. (They normally had it ready at 5:30 a.m., but this morning the staff was still bringing things out at 6:15.) It again proved to be a minor inconvenience, though Robert feared a case of indigestion from inhaling his waffle, raisin bran and fresh fruit. Then he loaded his rental car and checked out, being sure to express his thanks to the man at the counter for the things all of the staff had done to make his stay more bearable.

         The return of his rental car and trip from there to the airline check-in counter went without incident. Robert’s next hint of a messed-up day, however, came when he arrived at the United Airlines counter. He tried to bypass the crowd and use an automated check-in kiosk, only to get the message, “Mr. Kelsey, please see a United Airlines customer service agent for assistance.” He then joined the line of passengers waiting to check in, hearing others say that they, too, had tried to use the kiosk to only get a similar message. As the time for him to make his flight dwindled, Robert began to fear he would either not make his flight out of Sacramento or somehow miss his first connection in Denver (thereby totally screwing up his flights). As he inched closer, Robert looked at the computer monitor that showed departing flights – and saw his flight delayed by at least an hour. Don’t panic yet, he told himself. Get up to the counter, check your bags and find out what’s going on. The buzz of the waiting crowd, however, told Robert he could be walking into a mess

         “Yes, Mr. Kelsey,” the customer service agent said after he identified himself and explained his problem. “Let me pull up your itinerary and see what’s happening.” The woman appeared to be in her mid ‘40’s, and was quite polite. Yet Robert could notice a harried tension to her face, as though she had been dealing with a mess for hours (and quite probably several customers who hadn’t looked past their own immediate situations). “Okay, you’re scheduled to fly from here to Denver, and then to Chicago, before getting to home.”

         “That’s correct,” Robert said. “I also noticed on the departure monitor that my flight has been delayed by an hour. May I ask why?”

         “A blizzard hit Denver this morning, Mr. Kelsey.” Being somewhat familiar with the national airline system because of work travels, Robert knew that Denver was a major hub for United, and that weather problems there could mess up a large portion of their system. He winced but didn’t complain; Robert understood that weather in another state was well out of the lady’s ability to control. “Frankly, we’re looking at a lot of passengers plans being upset and re-routed. The FAA is delaying our flights out of here so there aren’t a bunch of planes waiting in the air to land in Denver.”

         “I take it they’ve instituted ‘flow control,’ then?”

         The woman looked at him, an expression of almost relief coming to her face. It seemed to say, Thank you, sir for having at least some understanding of the situation! “Yes, that’s correct, Mr. Kelsey. There’s a chance your flight out of Sacramento may be delayed further; if it is, I’m not sure we can guarantee that you can make your other flights. The situation in Denver is a REAL mess at this point.”

         “I understand. How about we just check my bags and we’ll go from there.”

         “Thank you, sir,” she sighed with both a sigh and a smile. The woman (her name badge identified her as Valerie Johnson) processed Robert’s information and handed him his barding passes for his scheduled flights. He watched her put the destination tags on his luggage (he had long ago learned to be careful that the wrong information didn’t get applied, sending his luggage far from where he was going). Then he saw her put a second destination tag on his belongings. Before he could ask, Valerie Johnson replied, “I’ve also booked you onto an alternate flight, sir, that goes direct to your destination should you not be able to make your connection to Chicago. It may mean extra time in the Denver airport… but frankly sir, you’ll be looking at that in either case.”

         “Will I or my company be billed –”

         “If you don’t use the alternate flight? No sir, it’s simply a seat reservation should you need it. If you do make your scheduled flights, that alternate one disappears out of the system. If you miss your Chicago flight, you’ve already got a backup plan.”

         “Thank you, ma’am,” Robert said. Then affecting his best (or worst) Elvis voice, he said, “Thank you… thank you very much.”

         “You’re welcome, Mr. Kelsey,” she replied with a laugh. “You’ll be boarding at gate B-34; please follow the corridor to my right here to the departure lounges. And thank you for flying United.” Robert walked in the indicated direction, going through the TSA security check point (this time without being selected for a random pat-down) and made his way to his gate. Finding a seat nearby, Robert pulled out his cell phone.

          “Patient records, Miranda Kelsey speaking.”

         “Hey, Punkin.”

          “Hunny-bunny! What are you doing calling me here? Is something wrong?”

         “It turns out I’m at the mercy of the weather, hon. Apparently a blizzard hit Denver overnight; my flight out of Sacramento is being delayed until the FAA is sure it will have a reasonable chance of landing in Denver. I have no idea what it’s going to do to my connecting flights. So don’t come out to the airport until I can give you a better idea of what’s happening, okay?”

          “Aw, Hell… Okay, honey, I’ll wait to head out there. Should I check with the airline periodically?”

         “Don’t worry about that, punkin. At this point, I’m not even sure what flights I’m going to be on. The check-in agent actually set me up on an alternate flight out of Denver in case I can’t make my connection, so I’ve got a back-up plan. And before you ask… yes, I do have clean underwear in socks in case I get stuck in a Denver hotel overnight.”

          “All right, mind reader,” he heard laughing over the phone “knock it off. I’ll see what I can find out about the Denver weather while I’m working. And I’ll wait for your phone calls as to what is happening.”

         “Sound good, punkin. I’ll call you when I know more. Love you!”

          “I’ll be waiting with baited breath… hunny-bunny. I love you!”

         Robert hit the “end” button on his phone, settling back to watch the info board at his gate for further updates. Over the next twenty minutes, he saw his departure time pushed back three times. Ugh, he thought to himself, this could be a really screwy day. “Hello, Merrill,” he said after dialing the office, “Robert Kelsey here. I’m sitting in the Sacramento airport, waiting for my flight to Denver to leave.”

          “Denver? What the frap are you doing flying through Denver? U. S. Airways doesn’t hub in Denver!”

         “No, they don’t,” Robert replied. “But the folks at Gilbertson Corporate Travel booked me on code-share flights that are actually with United, not U. S. Airways.” Robert felt lucky he was talking to Merrill; the man flew enough for the company to understand how airlines would “code-share” flights, taking bookings under various revenue-sharing agreements to fly passengers on each other’s planes. “I’m set up with layovers in Denver and Chicago before getting home.”

          “Except the weather in Denver has turned into garbage,” he heard Merrill reply. “It was the lead story on The Weather Channel this morning. It also made ESPN; there’s concern the Broncos may not be able to fly to Kansas City for this Sunday’s grudge match with the Chiefs.”

         “Well, my flight is delayed right now, instead of canceled,” Robert replied, thinking that what Merrill was really worried about was how the weather might affect his fantasy football team. “So flights seem to be going in and out of Denver at this point. My problem is whether I make my connection either there or in Chicago, or if I end up taking an alternate flight out of Denver.” At the question from Merrill, Robert explained how the travel agency had booked him on a “multi-city tour” in order to get home (to which Merrill muttered something about getting a new corporate travel agency). “Anyway, Merrill, with my travel plans all screwed up… is there any way I can take tomorrow off?”

          “What? Didn’t you read your e-mail this morning?”

         “No, I didn’t. I was so happy to find out I was leaving that, after I sent last night’s progress report, I packed my laptop away! I didn’t think I would need it! What’d I miss?”

          “Just a little note Ronny sent you saying to not come in tomorrow.” Ronny was Ronald McMasters, owner, CEO and self-described “chief cook and bottle-washer” of DataMasters, Inc., Robert’s employer. “Hell, today’s Thursday, and you’ve been busting your butt out there for just under two weeks. So we decided to let you rest tomorrow and make it a three-day weekend. It sounds like you’ll need it even more now.”

         “I just might,” Robert replied, immensely grateful for the day off to recover from everything. “Tell Ronny thanks for me, Merrill, when you see him. Something tells me I probably won’t be seeing any of you guys until Monday morning. I’m just hoping I’m home tonight to enjoy a three-day weekend.”

          “I here you there, Robert. Listen, once you get back, send me and Ronny an e-mail so we know you’re back in town safe. Other than that, we’ll see you Monday morning. Unless, that is, you and your lively wife come join the football group at Sidecki’s Sports Cave for the Sunday Football Binge.”

         “We’ll see how I’m doing once I get back, Merrill.” Every Sunday, Merrill tried to organize a gathering of work friends and fantasy-football opponents to watch the NFL games. Depending on various plans, Robert and Miranda would make it there about every third week. “Right now, though I’m more concerned with getting home. Plus not running my cell bill too high, so I’m going sign off. Talk to you later.”

          “Safe trip, Robert!” Hanging up the phone, Robert began to realize a men’s room visit was in order. Taking the laptop with him (he didn’t want it to walk off, and he certainly didn’t want airport security thinking he was leaving a bomb or similar), he made his way to the nearest lavatory. He stopped for a Starbuck’s latte on the way back to his gate, hearing his name being called to the ticket counter just as he walked into the departure area.

         “Mr. Kelsey,” the gate agent said, “there may be a problem.”

         Oh, that’s just freaking fabulous, he thought to himself. “Okay, what exactly is it? Are my connections in trouble?”

         “They could be, sir,” replied the Near-Eastern woman, whose name badge identified her as Tahira Shahwani, and whose voice carried not a hint of an accent. “Though I can’t totally tell what the other flights in Denver are like – the weather has really screwed things up for us – I’m afraid you may miss your connection to Chicago.” Looking at her computer for a moment, she added, “I see our check-in agent here set you up with an alternate later flight direct to your destination. Would you just like to switch to that now, or wait to see what happens?”

         “Will I get home sooner if I switch flights?”

         “Normally, sir, you wouldn’t. But many of our Denver flights are, for lack of a better expression, up in the air right now. It could go either way.”

         “Then let’s keep what we’ve already got,” Robert replied, “and I’ll keep the other flight as an insurance policy. Frankly, I’ve been away from home for almost two weeks and I’d rather get back as soon as possible.”

         “I understand, sir,” the young lady (she appeared to be in her late 20’s) said. “If I were in your shoes, I’d probably feel the same way. Let me look at one other thing for a moment… Mr. Kelsey, could I see your boarding passes?” After Robert handed them over, the gate agent flipped through them and made a phone call. “Yes, Phil… that’s right, I’m looking at a possible code change, because of weather and routing changes… file YQ643576D… Okay, what’s that? Wait, let me grab a pen…” For several minutes, Tahira Shahwani listened intently as she took notes. After hanging up the phone, she started punching things into her computer. Before Robert could ask what was happening, she was on the phone again. “Phil, can you look at that record again? I just want to make sure I didn’t miss something somewhere… okay, I’ll print it up, thanks… what’s that? Okay, I’ll make the announcement in a moment. Thanks again.”

         “May I ask what’s happening, ma’am?”

         “Ah, sorry about that, Mr. Kelsey,” Tahira replied. “I had to verify a few things with my boss and make sure I had the right codes. Here are your new boarding passes, sir.” She handed him the ticket envelope.

         “New passes? Did my flights change?”

         “Not your flights, sir, but your seat assignments.” Leaning closer, she said, “Because you’ve been so helpful, and things have been so up in the air with your itinerary, we’ve upgraded you to first class on all your flights – even your alternate – without any charge to you.”

         “I’d say, ‘pinch me, I’m dreaming,’ except I don’t want to wake up and find myself in cattle class.” As Tahira laughed, he added, “thank you, ma’am for your help. If I can get this kind of service, I may just book more of my winter flights on United going through Denver!”

         “You’re welcome, sir,” Tahira said with a smile, trying her best not to laugh while she talked. “It’s not something we can do everyday or with every flight. But we try to when we can. And now,” she said with resignation, “I need to make an announcement.”

         “Another delay?”

         “I’m afraid so.” As Robert found a seat, the gate agent picked up a microphone: “Your attention please. United Airlines regrets to announce the further delay of flight 871, nonstop service to Denver with continuing service to Nashville. Due to continued weather problems in the Denver area, we are now projecting a departure time of 10:55 a.m. We also have to add that further delays may be possible. We appreciate your understanding in this matter, and thank you for flying the Friendly Skies of United.” While others around him groaned and muttered about the inefficiency of the airline (all the while forgetting that airlines couldn’t control the weather), Robert pulled out his cell phone for another call to Miranda.

          “Ut-oh,” she said after recognizing his voice. “How bad is it, hunny-bunny?”

         “They just announced another delay, punkin. It’s going to be another hour at least before we leave. And the flights in Denver are badly screwed up by the weather. I hate to say it… but those spare socks and underwear ma come in handy.”

          “In that case, I’m not coming out to the airport until I know you’re on your way.”

         “Good thinking. I’ll keep you apprised of the latest, hon. Talk to you soon.”

          “Talk to you soon, hunny-bunny!” Robert hung up the phone, leaning back in his chair to finish his overpriced latte and wait for the next update. He was surprised 45 minutes later when Tahira the gate agent made the announcement for passengers who needed assistance in boarding his flight to proceed to the gate. He bounced out of his seat a few minutes later as Tahira called for the first class passengers to board. He made his way down the Jetway and was directed by the cabin steward to seat 3A. Robert settled into the left-side window seat in the third row, putting his laptop under the seat in front of him and looking out the window. Fifteen minutes later, the plane was taxiing out to the departure runway while the cabin crew made their required safety announcements.

         A few minutes later, the Airbus A320 was lifting off the runway, to the scattered applause of the passengers. Though Robert didn’t clap, his smile was wide as he realized he was finally going home, that this company mess was over, and that he was going home to loving arms that wanted to be with him.

         His thoughts were interrupted as the cabin steward asked if he’d like something to drink. She returned a minute later with a fresh cup of decaf coffee (he’d had enough of the regular kind the last two weeks) in a porcelain cup and saucer. Wow, he thought to himself, an actual cup and saucers instead of Styrofoam. If this keeps up, I may need to travel in first class more often.

* * * * *

          “What’s the latest word, hunny-bunny?”

         “They’ve put me on the alternate flight, the one that goes directly home,” Robert told Miranda. “But it’s not going to leave here for at least another three hours. My original flight to Chicago will probably leave before then, but it’s highly doubtful I could make my Chicago connection. So the airline went ahead and switched me to the direct flight home. So I’m going to do my best to relax here in Denver, maybe have something to eat, and possibly have a massage while I wait.” While checking out the amenities of the United Airlines concourse in Denver, Robert had found a massage therapy business on one of the upper court levels. “If nothing else, I’m just going to pass the time while the snow swirls around here. You should see this weather, punkin.”

          “No thanks,” he heard in reply. “The coverage on The Weather Channel’s website has been cold enough for me. I can only imagine how screwed up the airport is right now.”

         “They’re doing their best, from what I can see. And luckily for the airlines, most of the passengers have been agreeable. I’ve stayed away from the bars, though. I can only imagine how ugly some drunks might get if this continues. And the biggest complaints I’ve heard are that some of the food vendors are running out of ingredients or menu items. So I’m going to see what food I can get and check the airline schedules. If I can, I’m going to squeeze in that massage before my flight.”

          “Okay, hunny-bunny. Just be careful, and let me know when you’re going to be flying in. I take it I won’t have to leave the office early?”

         “Nope. I don’t expect to land back home before 7:30 tonight. After all, the plane I’m flying on has to get here first, and then it has to fly out. I’ll give you call before I go aboard so you’ll have a god idea, punkin. Now, I need to go before my cell phone gives out on me. Love you!”

          “Love you, hunny-bunny. I’ll see you later tonight!” Hanging up the phone, Robert went to check on the latest info on his newly scheduled flight. Tariq Hanson, the young African-American male gate agent, assured Robert that his reservation was confirmed and the flight would not be leaving for at least three hours due to weather delays. (As he had told Miranda, the plane had yet to even arrive in Denver, like many other flights.) When told that his luggage might not make it with him, Robert explained that he was going home and could pick it up from the airline in a few days if necessary.

         Robert then went to the massage therapy shop, where he lucked into an immediately open slot for an hour’s massage. He walked out feeling more refreshed than he had in days. With laptop bag looped over his shoulder, Robert waited in line for Chinese takeout that he took back to his gate. There he marveled at the swirling snow between bites of Chicken Lo Mein and Moo Goo Gai Pan with fried rice, amazed that so many flights were moving in and out of the Denver Airport. He actually fell asleep after finishing his meal. A fellow passenger on the flight nudged him awake when Tariq started announcing their flight.

         “I’m sitting on the airplane,” he told Miranda from seat 2A. “It’ll probably be another half an hour before we roll down the runway; we’ve got to taxi out and go through a deicing before we can take off.” Listening to her question, he replied, “I don’t expect to land there before eight o’clock, punkin… yeah, this has been a crazy day. But there is a little bit o good news – Merrill told me earlier that I’ve been given tomorrow off, so I’ll end up with a three-day weekend… yeah, I punkin, I agree that I’ve earned it. Listen, I need to hang up and turn off the phone before we take off. I’ll see you in a few hours hon. Love you!”

         Robert shut off the phone, slipping it into the laptop case (again under the seat in front of him) so he didn’t chance leaving it on the plane. Every minute here meant he was inching closer to home. And to his wife, who (from everything he was sensing) wanted to come back to him / stay with him. We’ll work it out, he thought as the plane taxied from the terminal to the de-icing pad. We’ll find a way to give you what you need and still stay together, punkin. Robert couldn’t help but smile as he thought about that, and about the welcome (and follow on activities) a few hours in the offing.

11

         “Oh, my God,” Miranda said as she clutched Robert to her. “It feels so good to have you back.” Robert had barely gotten 10 steps outside the security area before Miranda wrapped him in a hug. The small, supple feminine body felt incredible against him, and Robert again felt that when the time came, things could be worked out. “I’ve missed you so much,” purred up to his ears from the petite woman.

         “I’ve missed you too, punkin.” For the moment, all Robert could do was hold Miranda close and enjoy the feel of her body next to his. A few minutes later, he said, “let’s go see if my luggage made it with me.”

         “And then?”

         “Let’s go home.” Arm in arm, they made their way to the baggage carrousel. After a 10-minute wait, Robert’s luggage (much to his surprise) appeared from the depths of the airport’s luggage area. At her own insistence, Miranda carried Robert’s hanging bag while he pulled his main suitcase through the terminal and parking garage to Miranda’s car. They had barely closed the doors before wrapping each other in a passionate kiss and mutual grope.

         “Oh… wow…” Miranda said when they came up for air. “I think we better get home.” Robert chuckled softly as she started the car. “Are you hungry, hunny-bunny? If you are, there’s homemade soup in the Crock Pot.”

         “Please don’t take this wrong, Punkin… but I’m going to need something to eat once we get home. But don’t worry… I won’t need to eat much.” Miranda lightly ran a hand on Roberts left leg, her smile matching the “evil grin” on Robert’s face. Miranda drove home as fast as she could without breaking any speed limits or causing accidents.

         Walking in from the garage, Robert dropped his luggage off in front of the washer and dryer. “It’s all laundry anyway,” he said to Miranda’s questioning look. “Sitting in luggage a few more hours won’t hurt anything.” After putting his laptop in the den, Robert walked into the kitchen to find a bowl of soup waiting on the table, with oyster crackers on the side. It turned out that Miranda had done a little experimenting, mixing Italian dressing seasoning into her chicken soup recipe… a change that Robert found quite delicious.

         “Would you like another bowl?”

         “No, punkin… now, I want dessert.”

         “I… I don’t have anything for dessert.” But the look in her eyes told Robert she had other ideas. Ideas that Robert suspected had nothing to do with food.

         “Well, honey… I was thinking about a dessert of punkin pie.” A few seconds later, the two were again kissing and groping each other. This night, however, they practically raced upstairs, quickly stripping each other once they were in the bedroom. They slowed down as they went through their verbal ritual – then proceeded into one of the most torrid love-making sessions either one had experienced. By the time it was over, Miranda barely had enough energy to set her morning alarm; when that was done, she found Robert fast asleep. She curled up next to him, falling asleep mere seconds after snuggling close to her husband.


         Robert awoke to sunlight streaming through the bedroom windows… and an empty bed. He had a mild panic when he saw the clock read 9:37, but then remembered he had been given the day off. Relaxing back on the bed, he pulled Miranda’s pillow close to him and relished the scent she had left behind. He stayed there for half an hour before deciding it was time to get up and see about some breakfast. Miranda had left a note on the kitchen table for him:

Hey, hunny-bunny,

         Don’t worry about cooking dinner for tonight; there’s plenty of soup leftover. Barring any problems I’ll be home about 5:30. If you’re up to it, Rose and her husband want us to join them at the movies tonight. Oh, and don’t worry about he laundry; like you said, it can wait until the weekend. I’ll see you tonight.

         Love you!!!!
                                                                     Miranda Punkin

         “I love you too, punkin.” Pulling out cereal and milk, Robert made himself a simple breakfast, slicing a banana into his raisin bran. He spent the next hour in the den, making sure there wasn’t an onslaught of stuff from work for him (there wasn’t). Still forgetting he had not re-set his alerts for personal e-mails, he wandered into the living room to watch some television.

         Then it hit him – after the frantic activity of the last two weeks, and several months of intense projects at the office, he didn’t know what it was like to sit around and do nothing. The idea of just sitting around and watching the world go by had been foreign to Robert most of his life. Even on the weekends, he and Miranda usually managed some sort of day trip or project around the house, even if it was just cooking dinner. Sitting around like a lump actually felt depressing.

         Then he remembered – his bags were still packed with laundry from the trip. “Might as well get it going,” he mumbled. “Whatever I get done today is stuff Miranda won’t have to worry about over the weekend. Which will also give us some more time to do things with each other.”