tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38120779779941318312024-02-20T09:33:05.204-08:00Falls Chance Ranch ExtrasUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger105125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3812077977994131831.post-61075564163430604712021-07-10T22:50:00.001-07:002021-07-10T22:50:12.260-07:00A Few Thoughts from and Aging Clown<p> </p><div class="content clearfix"><div><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He would have made an excellent father, except that wasn’t <span class="coloradmin">a</span> dream we were supposed to have. Hell, we weren’t even supposed to be together, much less get married and have <span class="coloradmin">a</span>
family. Two men together was even against the law, but the heart
doesn’t follow popular opinion or laws and regulations. The being
together we could do, but the family…..not so much. <br /> <br />It was
because of children that we met. We both loved kids, though I must
admit to liking them more for the paycheck they generated rather than
because they were wonderful. But He……He was <span class="coloradmin">a</span> teacher in <span class="coloradmin">a</span> school that handled <span class="coloradmin">a</span> lot of special needs kids. His classroom had <span class="coloradmin">a</span>
dozen ten year olds that he called his children, all of them with
various behavioral issues. It amazed me how he and Percy, his classroom
assistant, managed to teach the kids actual facts and figures in
amongst all the behaviors that kept the children <span class="coloradmin">from</span>
regular schools. Both of them had the teacher voice – you know the one
that made your stomach do weird things when you heard it, knowing that
you’ve done something not quite up to their expectations of you? The
day we met I heard that voice and even though it wasn’t directed at me,
it struck like lightening and tingled for the next <span class="coloradmin">few</span> days as I kept running into Him.<br /> <br />Northlands had hired me for <span class="coloradmin">a</span> week. I was <span class="coloradmin">a</span> <span class="coloradmin">clown</span>
with an appetite for knowledge about what makes people tick. When I
was young I read true crime novels. That carried over into psychology
books about those criminals which lead further back into how they were
raised. I devoured book after book and while I was performing for all
sorts of children, I developed different shows that might appeal or be
better for those kids that faced challenges. I like to be different.<br /> <br />So here I was, in front of His classroom, halfway through my show. Let me tell you, kids are <span class="coloradmin">a</span>
tough audience. If you’re not having the best day, kids can tell and
they have no problem calling you out on anything. I learned quickly
that if I was having <span class="coloradmin">a</span> bad day, I had to figure out <span class="coloradmin">a</span> way to drop all of that as I stepped on my stage. It’s hard. There are those days when you’re just in <span class="coloradmin">a</span>
sucky mood and you can’t or don’t want to let go of that feeling. I
can mostly let those days go, because being called out for sucking by
kids is <span class="coloradmin">a</span> heck of lot worse than letting go of that, and sometimes feeling better by the end because of the children’s laughter.<br /> <br />I had just pulled <span class="coloradmin">a</span>
rabbit out of my shoe. I know, most people pull rabbits out of hats
but as I said, I like to be different. The rabbit was obviously happy
to see daylight and didn’t want to go back in his cage. He gave <span class="coloradmin">a</span>
mighty kick and wound up on the floor. That was too exciting for two
of the kids, both of whom came flying towards the rabbit. I didn’t see
Him move, but as I was bending down to grab the rabbit, He was bending
over to stop the two children <span class="coloradmin">from</span> grabbing him as well and our heads knocked together.<br /> <br />If
I wanted to be more romantic, I’d say that I saw stars, then came to
with an Angel carrying me off into the happily ever after. Instead, I
stood up, grabbing my head and thought Ow! and then lightening struck.
He had <span class="coloradmin">a</span> hand on one shoulder of each child and said “Do NOT touch the rabbit.” Yup, I’m <span class="coloradmin">a</span>
weirdo and that was all that I needed to hear to fall madly, deeply in
love. I didn’t know it at first, of course. I just thought that there
must have been <span class="coloradmin">a</span> nerve connected to the bump on my head that shot down through my stomach and out through my toes. <br /> <br />Deimos – most people think bunnies are cute and cuddly so he HAD to have that name – hopped over to the side and hid behind <span class="coloradmin">a</span> trash can. The two children were escorted back to their pillows on the floor, with <span class="coloradmin">a</span> stern reminder to stay put, and then He came to check on me. I had to swallow <span class="coloradmin">a</span> smile because he had <span class="coloradmin">a</span> smudge of my face paint on his face, looking for all intents and purposes like <span class="coloradmin">a</span> child having gotten too creative with paint they were supposed to be putting on paper.<br /> <br />“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” He asked, taking <span class="coloradmin">a</span> deep look into my soul. I blinked to break the spell and took <span class="coloradmin">a</span>
step back. I had never met anyone that seemed to think they were
allowed that deep inside me, even before we’d officially met. <br /> <br />“I….I’m
fine. Where did Deimos go?” Not sure why I was stuttering, other than
for just having my head bumped, as I looked away <span class="coloradmin">from</span> him, though I didn’t miss that twinkling eye and slight upturn of his mouth when I named the bunny.<br /> <br />“This
cute little thing surely doesn’t have anything to do with dread and
terror?” He said, picking up Deimos and bringing him back to me.<br /> <br />“That is kind of the point?”<br /> <br />“What point is that?”<br /> <br />I
took Deimos and put him into his cage, locking the door to prevent
another escape attempt as I tried to come up with an answer. His casual
questions were sounding <span class="coloradmin">a</span> bit interrogating. “Juxtaposition.”<br /> <br />“I haven’t met <span class="coloradmin">a</span> <span class="coloradmin">clown</span> with such <span class="coloradmin">a</span> wide ranging vocabulary.”<br /> <br />I managed to get my eyes up to meet his. “There’s <span class="coloradmin">a</span> lot more where that came <span class="coloradmin">from</span>.”<br /> <br />“Where did the rabbit go?” <span class="coloradmin">a</span> small voice said <span class="coloradmin">from</span> the middle of the pillows. Both of us blinked and returned to the classroom with what felt like <span class="coloradmin">a</span>
resounding thud that everyone could hear. I managed to finish my show
and escape the room while He and Percy were getting the morning snack
together for their kids.<br /> <br />He told me later that Percy put her
foot up his behind so that he’d actually ask me for my number, since I
was only on day two of the four I was supposed to be in the school. She
was <span class="coloradmin">a</span> really lovely
woman who didn’t see why everyone shouldn’t be able to love who they
wanted to and I thanked her for that many times. The fact that he fell
in love with me, without even seeing my real face, was amazing.<br /> <br /> <br /> <br />We
met Philip Winthrop in 1981 because of Jake. Jake’s home was in flux
and Philip decided the best course of action was to take him out of the
city and move him to the middle of nowhere, which turned out to be <span class="coloradmin">a</span>
beautiful ranch in Wyoming. He was hired to visit the ranch to give
Philip some help in getting Jake settled and schooled. What was
supposed to be <span class="coloradmin">a</span> two
week, well paid vacation turned into finding our extended family for
life. Philip was kind enough to invite the both of us and it was two of
the most blissful weeks in my life to that point. Here was <span class="coloradmin">a</span>
house where you could show affection without worry, where you could run
outside for miles completely naked and not see another soul, where
there were horses and birds and trees and grass and mountains…..well,
you get the point. Totally unlike Boston where you will see trees, but
they’re manicured to within an inch of their lives and placed just so.<br />I hadn’t seen anyone else in <span class="coloradmin">a</span> discipline relationship before. Didn’t even know there was <span class="coloradmin">a</span> term for it, or that it was <span class="coloradmin">a</span>
thing. And no, I didn’t see anyone get spanked while we were there,
but you could just feel that …current. I suppose you have to be wired
for it to come across that way, because nothing was ever right in your
face. You could just tell that Philip had IT, same as He did. <br /> <br />It was <span class="coloradmin">a</span> very…..arousing two weeks. It had been <span class="coloradmin">a</span> long time since my teens but I sure as hell felt like <span class="coloradmin">a</span> teenager that fortnight, discovering <span class="coloradmin">a</span>
whole bunch of stuff I hadn’t known existed, was allowed to exist,
especially for people like us. If someone had asked me to write down my
dreams, this was it. <br /> <br />Three days in, He grabbed <span class="coloradmin">a</span> bag, <span class="coloradmin">a</span> blanket and my hand and we walked out into the pastures. We walked for <span class="coloradmin">a</span> couple of hours, never in <span class="coloradmin">a</span>
hurry, and just talking about our good luck in having Jake in His
classroom. I was getting rather hungry and had asked several times to
stop and have our picnic, but He kept saying no, this wasn’t the spot.<br /> <br />The spot ended up being beneath <span class="coloradmin">a</span> single large tree. It was on the crest of <span class="coloradmin">a</span> hill, with <span class="coloradmin">a</span> view for miles. You couldn’t pick <span class="coloradmin">a</span>
better view. You could tell the river was off in the distance because
the trees were lining it. There were mountains elegantly placed behind
that, <span class="coloradmin">a</span> couple of them still seemed to have some snow left on them, even though it was early summer. There was <span class="coloradmin">a</span>
lazy breeze blowing, just enough to move the air, bringing amazing
freshness with each breath. You could hear some birds calling to one
another now and again but otherwise there was silence. Absolute, total
silence. Boston wasn’t <span class="coloradmin">a</span> loud city, but it wasn’t until you were in <span class="coloradmin">a</span>
place where there wasn’t anything mechanical within miles that you
realized how much background noise there is in everyday cities.<br /> <br />The
blanket got spread, the shoes came off and we settled on it and totally
enjoyed the bits of meats and cheeses and crackers that were in the
bag. It was topped off by <span class="coloradmin">a</span> couple of apples and would have only been better with <span class="coloradmin">a</span> bottle of wine. There was nothing that needed to be done, no place we needed to be and it was GOOD to relax. <br /> <br />We must have bored ourselves to tears because I woke up feeling <span class="coloradmin">a</span>
little warm. We had situated ourselves near the edge of the shade and
the sun had moved, leaving my feet and calves in the sun. I poked Him,
planning on getting up and getting back to the house but that didn't
happen for <span class="coloradmin">a</span> while longer. My poke elicited <span class="coloradmin">a</span>
deep and wonderful grumble and we rolled around on the blanket doing
things to each other that would have gotten us arrested in Boston, but
was blessedly, perfectly right in Wyoming. We barely made it back in
time for dinner and it was one of the best days of my life. We had
found our extended family and it was the best feeling in the world.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />"William, come here."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">I
nearly jumped out of my skin as my gaze returned to the paint in front
of me as my stomach landed somewhere near my toes. I slowly turned <span class="coloradmin">from</span>
the corner, torn as always between the relief that I'm out of the
corner vying with the knowledge that what comes after that moment in
time is nothing to look forward to. I take the <span class="coloradmin">few</span> steps over to him, tears already stinging my eyes. He's pulling the chair out away <span class="coloradmin">from</span> the table and the screech it makes sounding like my stomach is being pulled along behind me.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He has taken <span class="coloradmin">a</span> seat in the chair. I have never figured out how someone can have such <span class="coloradmin">a</span>
commanding presence, even when I'm towering over them, but he does it
well. His arms are well defined, just like the rest of him. Solid and
strong, and still not an ounce of fat anywhere.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">"What
did you decide?" He asked in that teacher voice that reached all the
way inside. Now was definitely not the time to confess to having the
best parts of your life flash before your eyes when you were supposed to
be thinking about your answer to this question the whole time you were
in the corner. Since this was <span class="coloradmin">a</span> recurring issue, I didn't really need all the time he afforded me to answer.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">I swallowed to clear the lump that had formed in my throat and had to start twice to get out my reply without sounding like <span class="coloradmin">a</span> ten year old child. "I......I need to check with you before purchasing anything that even resembles soap or lotion." </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">"And why is that <span class="coloradmin">a</span> good idea?" He asks, as if I might have forgotten the answer to THAT question as well.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">"Because I purchase too much, but -"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">"Because
we will be, our entire extended family will be, and probably every
horse, cow and sheep on the ranch will be, clean and smelling like <span class="coloradmin">a</span> daisy for months if there ever comes <span class="coloradmin">a</span> time when the last bar of soap is ever manufactured. We. Have. Enough." </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">It's
SO not appropriate to laugh out loud at that preposterous statement.
So I work hard at not doing so but guess I wasn't controlling my mouth
as well as I thought.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">"It is not <span class="coloradmin">a</span> laughing matter, William."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">"It is <span class="coloradmin">a</span>
tiny bit. TINY bit. I don't think the horses want to smell like
daisies. They would probably prefer to smell like marshmallows, or
coconut, not flowers."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">That didn't stop the spanking, and it was <span class="coloradmin">a</span> good one, complete with promises, tears, and I'm ashamed to say <span class="coloradmin">a</span>
lot of blubbering. He's really good at making his point and I didn't
buy any more lotion or soaps for at least an entire month that time. I
was in the doghouse for <span class="coloradmin">a</span> <span class="coloradmin">few</span>
days, but that didn't dampen the pleasure I felt in seeing the corner
of his mouth upturn when he would have preferred it not to, nor the
sparkle in his eyes right before I lost my pants, and my dignity, at his
hands.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">The End</span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"> </span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"><i><b>Copyright Rolf & Ranger 2021 </b></i><br /></span></div></div>tarabeth1210http://www.blogger.com/profile/14902928357845152351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3812077977994131831.post-78039845721065070622021-07-10T22:42:00.002-07:002021-07-10T22:42:10.214-07:00Albion Way<p><span style="color: #6aa84f;"><i>Our
muse took us for a short road trip away from MEC, probably because
being shut up in the house with either one of us can be a bit difficult <br /><br />We'd like to post this story today with a special hug for our friend Knox, a sweet forum member, who knows why. <br /><br />So off we go! (Or maybe not....) <br /><br />Enjoy! <br /><br />R&R </i></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">Albion</b> <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">Way</b> <br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He’d
spent about forty minutes walking up and down the porch with the phone,
dealing with the several and in all honesty fairly trivial issues in
Milan that the junior CEO that ANZ had sent out there did not appear to
be able to do anything productive about.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Paul
brought him a mug of tea out at one point, balancing it on the porch
rail near him. Dale, crouching by the pots of herbs as he pointed out
the obvious flaws in the package being negotiated, gave him an
appreciative smile and went on picking the withered leaves from the
thyme and the sage plants with his free hand, breathing in the familiar
and clean scents as his fingers brushed the leaves, looking at the snow
caps on the mountains on the horizon and assessing how what would be
required to strip down and recover the window frames along this wall and
the kitchen and study door for proofing this fall. When the junior CEO
finally sounded as if he had the confidence to return to the deal, Dale
accepted the transfer of the phone over to the head of the corporate
being worked with; an older man and a pleasant colleague that Dale had
worked with several times in the past few years, and finished off the
final details.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Paul came out to sit on the swing as he was ending the call. Dale turned off the phone and sat down beside him to drink the tea.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“That should be the end of that one. I don’t think they’ll call back.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I do enjoy hearing you tell people off in Italian.” Paul said placidly. “What did they need?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Honestly?
A few prods to get a grip and think.” Dale drained his mug. He had
mostly finished the yard chores when the call came. Riley and Flynn were
in sight in the home pasture, the dogs streaking ahead of them. Jasper
was re filling feed bins in the corral with Hammer and Gucci rubbed down
and turned loose and nudging to get under his elbows and eat as he
handled the big sacks.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Dale
gave the stables a sweep out since it became dusty at this time of year
in good weather when it wasn’t in use, and then swept off the porch and
refilled the water troughs while Flynn and Riley dealt with the horses.
They took turns with the shower and set the table around Paul while he
finished preparing dinner and ate while they swapped notes about the
varying points of their day apart.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“So
Italy’s just feeling insecure?” Riley summarised when he got the gist
of ANZ’s query. He and the others took a steady interest in any
fragments of work that came in day today, whether it was ranch based or
ANZ; Dale never ceased to appreciate it or to be slightly surprised by
it since it was usually tedious stuff.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“More or less. It’s a young CEO with low experience, and it’s a corporate I’ve worked with a few times.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Did
you ever ring anyone else for help in your early days?” Riley leaned on
the table with one elbow, voice casual, eyes dancing at him. Dale
picked a little off his bread roll and flicked it in his direction.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Yes. Constantly.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Liar.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“How’s
the heifer with the stitches?” Paul asked Jasper, who paused between
mouthfuls of the spiced pork and salad they were eating.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Better. There’s no sign of infection today but I’ll clean it out again tomorrow.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“That
reminds me, we’re almost out of antiseptic solution,” Riley added, “I
saw we were down to the last couple of bottles this morning. I’ll pick
some up in Jackson tomorrow when I get the feed delivery.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“And salt, we could use another half dozen salt licks. The shires go through them like buzz saws.” </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“They’re on the list. I’ll go via the store over on <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">Albion</b> <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">Way</b> and get the giant ones. They like those.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“If you’re going in there, don’t come back with another dozen horse toys.” Flynn warned. Riley grinned at him.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“They have good stuff. Leo loved the cone.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“They fought over the cone. I had to go down and take it away from them at two am when the bickering got rough.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“If we got them one each it wouldn’t be a problem.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Flynn
shook his head. “If I catch you with any more cones or more armfuls of
plastic junk you’ll have the problem of not sitting down for dinner,
halfpint. Your choice.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Mean.” Riley said without heat. “Anyone else want anything while I’m there? Dale? Want a cone?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“No,” Dale leaned helpfully out of the <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">way</b> to let Flynn get to Riley, “I think I’m sorted for cones thanks.”</span><br /><br /> <br /><br /> <br /><br /> <br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
The late spring weather was pleasantly cool at night. Dale fell asleep
easily in the soft breeze from the open window, turned against Flynn’s
side. When he jerked awake it was with a start, as if there had been
some shout or sound outside. His heart was thundering, sweat was
breaking out across his shoulders and palms, and for a moment he
listened hard, wondering what had woken him. The house was peaceful and
silent. Outside there was the occasional voice of a horse or sheep, but
they were the normal quiet, night-time murmurs, not the sounds of
animals with concerns. Dale took a few slow breaths and listened some
more. Nothing. No clue as to what had startled him. Flynn’s hand found
his back, Flynn’s voice was soft behind him, but Dale knew Flynn would
be feeling the thudding of his heart under his palm.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Dream?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“No. I thought-” he trailed off, with no real idea of what had happened. Flynn leaned up on one elbow and listened with him.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You thought what?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“….I don’t know. That I heard something.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“The
phone? Fax?” Flynn knew his proclivity for hearing even the soft sounds
of wires activating. Dale didn’t need to consider that hypothesis to
abandon it.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“No. I’d know what that was.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">All
was quiet outside. Dale slid towards the edge of the bed and Flynn
followed as Dale made a brief check on Paul and then Riley. Both were
sound asleep. Jasper’s bed was empty; that was not at all unusual on a
fine night, but Dale stood in his doorway for a moment, concentrating
until he was as sure as was possible that the feeling had nothing to do
with him. Behind him, Dale heard Flynn pad softly down the stairs. He
was back a moment later, large and calm with the planes of his bare
chest reflecting slightly silver in the darkness.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“He’s
left the back door on the latch. The stove and boiler are fine,
everything else is locked up and the dogs aren’t out of their beds.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">They
had an entire alert system out there. The dogs let them know in no
uncertain terms if anything happened outside during the night that they
didn’t approve of, and the corral horses equally made plenty of noise if
they were suspicious or interested. If the dogs weren’t even up and
about in the yard then nothing was outside to be concerned about. In the
interests of thorough elimination of all possibilities, Dale checked
the phone and slipped quietly upstairs to check the fax machine.
Nothing. Both, as he’d known, were devoid of any activity. Flynn was
waiting for him on the landing, and put a hand in the small of his back,
guiding him back to bed. Dale lay down with him, looked up at the
ceiling and tried to clear his mind. And stop his heart thudding out of
his chest since it was still going strong. Sometimes if he could blank
his thoughts, just be and not interfere, information got clearer, but
there was nothing. No feeling of an email they needed to see, no feeling
to go and shut a gate or to check a lock, and those kind of minor urges
were usually clear and dispassionate enough that he found himself just
knowing to do them without really having to think about it.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Flynn’s
hand rested on his chest over his heart, then Flynn took his arm and
pulled, and Dale turned over far enough to let Flynn tug the t shirt he
was wearing off over his head and toss it across to the chair. Dale lay
down in his arms, bare skin to bare skin. Flynn was cool from the night
air, the hardness of his chest and the scent of him deeply familiar.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Anything on your mind?” Flynn said in his ear.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“No.” Dale said it with certainty and without hesitation. “No, nothing I know of.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Flynn’s hand rubbed slowly on his spine. “Take some deep breaths.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“If
you like I’ll go and get a paper bag to breathe into,” Dale said with
some irritability. The hand on his back slid lower and patted, firmly.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Breathe, and I’ll keep that in mind.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">With
an effort, Dale made himself stop and take a few deep, slow breaths. It
slowed his heart slightly. Flynn went on rubbing in slow circles, his
voice rumbling under Dale’s ear. “Anything you can think of that might
have triggered a panic attack?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“That’s what you think it is?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“That’s
what you’re telling me you think it might be, if you’re talking about
paper bags.” Flynn said without heat. “Think it through, kid. Things can
sneak up on you, we know they do.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I
honestly can’t think of anything.” Dale sorted rapidly through the last
forty eight hours, all of which had been usual and tranquil and…</span><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Fine. Good days.</span></i><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“No,
nothing. The Italy business was nothing, it was a casual chat. I’ve
been fixing fences and moving sheep around the past two days, it’s been
all as usual.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">And
yet there was still an overpowering sense of something wrong, something
to be alert about. He was still shaking slightly, he could feel it.
Sweat was cooling on his skin.</span><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He’s right, by process of elimination it probably is a bloody panic attack. So get a grip.</span></i><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Annoyed,
Dale shut his eyes and intentionally slowed his breathing, forced his
body to relax and mentally focused on grounding himself. The deep
pressure of Flynn’s hand on his back, the cool of the sheets beneath
him, the movement of the mattress. It helped somewhat.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Neither
of them returned to sleep. Dale because whatever was triggering his
body to run on high alert was declining to shut up and stop it, and
Flynn because it had to be impossible to try and get some rest next to
someone whose heart was apparently trying to run a marathon on its own.
After around twenty minutes of that, Dale lost patience, pulled away
from Flynn and sat up.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Look. This is ridiculous, you get some sleep. I’m going to get dressed and shift the rock pile. Maybe that will stop it.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">It would at least burn off the adrenaline. And be tiring and distracting. <i>And painful, because you’ll make sure it is, because you’re getting angry with yourself. Which is not helpful.</i></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Flynn
took his arm, the yank was a strong one and it turned Dale directly
over his knee, and the swat was hard and very well placed. And if Dale
were honest, he’d more than asked for it.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Corner. That one. Hands on your head.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Slightly
ashamed of himself, Dale took up the corner, which their room possessed
due to specific arrangement of the furniture for his benefit, and which
Flynn made good use of. Flynn made no further comment. Linking his
hands on the top of his head with his butt stinging hotly from that
swat, Dale shut his eyes rather than stare at the wall and made the
effort to stand straight and still, very aware of Flynn behind him. This
was a physical challenge, but rather a different one to hauling rocks.
And with it, slowly but in a wave, came the usual sense of acceptance
that he was not the one making the decisions. The sense of handing over
and letting go all responsibility, and the usual following wash of deep
relief. It was a form of meditation he’d always, reluctantly, found
rather useful.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Flynn
left him there a good twenty minutes and approximately forty seconds by
Dale’s calculations. Long enough for his arms to be complaining and his
knees starting to ache from the stillness. Then Dale heard him get up
from the bed.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Dale.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Dale turned to face him. Flynn jerked his head at the door.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Let’s go.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Dale
couldn’t read his expression, but his stance suggested that doing
anything but obey him, quite quickly, was not a good idea. Not quite
sure what he had in mind and more than slightly aware that this might be
a short trip downstairs to the study since Flynn’s tolerance for temper
and messing about in the middle of the night was not high, Dale walked
ahead of him. Instead of the stairs though, Flynn steered him into the
bathroom, closed the door and turned the shower on. He made no comment,
just stripped them both and took Dale with him under the stream of
water, turning him so the water fell on Dale’s shoulders. He’d set it to
hot, the kind of hot that soaked out muscles at the end of a hard day,
and he put his arms around Dale’s waist and held him there, so the only
option left was to surrender, lean into the familiar planes of his chest
and let the water fall. There were several minutes of silence under the
spray in his arms, Flynn’s head against his, Flynn’s arms hard around
him holding him still, skin to skin and breathing the steam, and then
Flynn nudged his chin up and Dale gladly enabled him in several deep,
hungry and demanding kisses that searched his mouth. It was never
possible to kiss Flynn and think about anything other than Flynn;
particularly considering Dale’s entire mind and body tended to rather
irresponsibly hurl aside every other consideration but Flynn given a
third of a chance. It was a deeply, powerfully physical comfort that
melted the last of the tension away to flow down the drain with the
water. Then Flynn turned off the spray, grabbed a towel and rubbed them
both down in the same brisk and efficient manner he tended to rub down a
horse and which scoured Dale’s neck, shoulders, back and behind to
glowing, and took them back to bed.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Sleep came quickly after that.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">There
were still restless dreams. A number of them came in quick succession
where Dale found himself vaguely looking for something or trying to work
something out without having all the information but knowing it was a
problem. He woke when Paul went downstairs, the usual signal for the day
starting, and it was almost a relief.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Flynn
stirred when he got up, but it was their usual routine and he didn’t
object. Dale still held strong suspicion that he was likely to be sent
back to bed after breakfast: making up sleep lost to chewing, obsessing
and other forms of overdramatic enactments of stress was one of the many
immovable boundaries Flynn held. Dale shaved, aware and monitoring as
he did it that it was only once and that no other impulses or
compulsions or obsessions were involved. They weren’t. The only thing he
was aware of, constantly, was a strong feeling of dread, of anxiety, as
if something awful was going to happen. Not a call to action but a
solid brick wall of trepidation.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Which was ridiculous, but he couldn’t shake it.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Frustrated
with himself, Dale wiped down the sink, dressed and went downstairs
quietly enough not to disturb the others. Paul would be putting the
bread in to bake and doing the other small chores he began his day with,
which usually included a pot of tea, and this was time that he and Dale
usually spent together. This morning, as he got halfway through the
family room, his eyes fell on the garage door ahead of him and his heart
jolted again, as hard as it had in the night to wake him. It was hard
enough to stop him dead.</span><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"><b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">Albion</b>.</span></i><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">It
was the one word or coherent thought that came to mind; crystal clear
and as strong as if someone had said it aloud. And instantly all the
sensations of dread consolidated and came together in one rush, focused
towards that word and the garage. It was overwhelming.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Dale
stood for a moment more in the silence of the empty family room,
alarmed and trying to frame it into any kind of coherency. The ranch
tended to send its signals to him like this, frequently without clarity
or support like some kind of mad cryptic crossword and however he racked
his brain and tried to focus it, it got no better than a dread – an
overwhelming and horrible wall of fear.</span><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">So why? Don’t give me half the information and leave me with the mess of it! David, are you there?</span></i><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">There were times he could make that connection. This morning there was nothing. No help of any kind.</span><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">David,
please, for pete’s sake help! Is this information? Is it something I
need to do? And if it is, how the hell am I going to explain it? Or is
this random panic that I’m letting get out of control and I’ve just
found a focus to put it all on? </span></i><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">At this point, he really had no idea. At all.</span><br /><br /> <br /><br /> <br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">*</span><br /><br /> <br /><br /> <br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"> Dale had an outstanding line in <i>no, I don’t intend to talk about this </i>that
took natural talent and extended it to genius level. He walked into the
kitchen this morning looking poised, immaculately tidy, and bearing all
the signs to Paul of a bad night. A cup of tea and ten minutes to
cuddle and talk first thing in the morning always mattered a great deal
to Dale, and Paul took his time over it this morning, gently nagging the
details out of him until he was able to talk about middle of the night
showers without looking as if they ought to be court martialling
offenses. By the time the others came downstairs it had taken effect and
Dale was looking less tense and he ate a fairly good breakfast, albeit
to begin with in the determined Look At Me Being Fine <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">way</b>
that made Paul take his fork away from him and Flynn explain that his
choices were to can it or to go and stand in the kitchen corner until he
felt more like canning it.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Riley,
sympathetic to middle of the night panic attacks and with an eye on the
time as it was several hours to Jackson, grabbed his wallet and jacket
as soon as he’d finished eating, kissed Paul on his <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">way</b>
past, gave Flynn the required promise of driving with due care and
attention, and headed out to the garage. The rest of them, still eating
bacon rolls, heard the splutter and an odd whine from the jeep. It was
repeated. Then Riley reappeared in the kitchen doorway, swapping one set
of keys on the hook for another.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“The jeep’s dead. Might need to check the battery when I get back.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">It
happened. A couple of weeks could pass between one of them taking a
jeep out, and the batteries needed checking regularly to manage the time
they spent standing in the garage. Riley disappeared again. Paul,
finishing his roll, lowered it at the second splutter and whine.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Both of them? They can’t be that bad, I took one over to Clara the other day to pick up the sutures she ordered for us.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">They
heard the jeep hood pop. The points were kept in the garage to recharge
batteries; it was something they all knew how to do. Paul was about to
take Riley another cup of tea to fill the time while he waited for the
battery to charge, when Riley reappeared in the doorway.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“The
battery’s fine. On both of them, I checked. I can’t see what’s wrong
but I can’t get either of them to start. Dale, will you come take a
look?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Dale,
who had long since become established as the most successful mechanic
the family possessed, got up. Flynn however looked across at him as he
got up, and then put a hand out to stop him. “Hey. What’s that
expression about?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“What
expression?” Riley demanded. Paul, looking with Flynn, could only see
grim and slightly wired in Dale’s jawline; both characteristics that
tended to go with too little sleep. Jasper, leaning on the table and
drinking tea, looked too. Then he got up and went into the garage. Flynn
kept hold of Dale, waiting. Jasper was back a moment later and he
leaned on the door frame, long and casual and his soft voice calm.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“The plugs are missing on both.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Missing?”
Paul looked to Flynn and then Dale in bewilderment. “If that was what
you heard last night Dale, someone messing about in the garage, why
would they-”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jasper held out a hand to Dale, palm upwards. “I’ll take them please.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">There was a moment’s silence. Paul looked at Dale, shocked. Then Dale said stiffly and very politely, “No sir, I can’t do that.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You can’t do what?” Riley said, confused. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Flynn turned him by the hip and Paul watched Flynn check Dale’s jeans pockets, then look up at him. “Where are they?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Dale didn’t answer. Less, Paul could see, because he didn’t want to, than that he couldn’t find any appropriate or polite <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">way</b> to say it. He looked trapped, determined and very slightly panic stricken.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“<i>You</i> disabled the cars?” Riley said, sounding completely baffled now. “Why would you-”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Halfpint, come sit down.” Flynn interrupted before that got any further. “Dale, give those plugs to Jasper. Now.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“No sir, I won’t.” Dale said it quietly but promptly, and he meant it. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Paul knew the expression<i>.</i>
Flynn knew it too and he was watching Dale with a whole lot of
thoughtfulness. Paul turned his chair to where he could better see
Dale’s face.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Ok. So you decided that taking the plugs was necessary. Tell me why?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Just say it, kid.” Flynn said when Dale hesitated. “It’s all right. Any part of it, start anywhere and we’ll work it out.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I
can’t explain, because it’s insane.” Dale gave them a steady look, one
after the other direct into their eyes, and it was somewhere between
despairing and the kind of determined he got when he was really,
seriously upset about something. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, I
really am.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Are you serious?” Riley said in disbelief. Dale gave him a short nod.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Very.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Now
tell us the part of it you think is insane.” Flynn had hold of Dale’s
hand and he hadn’t let go. “This is to do with whatever happened in the
night.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I
have an extremely bad feeling about the cars and about Jackson, and in
particular, Riley driving to Jackson.” Dale said very shortly. “There
you are; that is it. That is all. No further information, no specifics
of any kind. I apologise but that’s all I can tell you, I don’t know
anything else. I very much wish I did.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">There was another moment’s silence in the kitchen.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“So
because you have a bad feeling about me going to Jackson, you went into
the garage and broke both cars?” Riley summarised. “Well that’s normal.
That’s really a good <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">way</b> to start the day. I have stuff I need to do today you know-”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Just
Riley going to Jackson, or any of us?” Jasper said from the doorway,
across what promised to become a tirade. Dale looked across at him.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I can’t be sure. Certainly Riley in particular.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jasper nodded slowly, absorbing. “So if I drove to Mac’s ranch, would that be ok? Take a moment. Think how it feels.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I…..
really don’t know.” Dale sounded somewhere between tired and
frustrated, and Paul’s heart went out to him. “I’ve been trying and I
can’t distinguish exactly if it’s focused on Riley or the cars or the
place in Jackson. But I have no idea if this really is something
important or it’s just me randomly obsessing because of a panic attack
last night – I have no idea. I’m very sorry, but I have no idea.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“But
it’s bad enough for you to make sure there’s no chance of Riley leaving
the ranch today.” Flynn confirmed, and it was a tone that took hold of
and calmed the slightly despairing note in Dale’s voice. There was a
pause where Flynn and Paul and Jasper discreetly exchanged glances, and
they reflected together on what on earth to do. Then Flynn leaned on the
table and looked at Dale. “Right. If you feel this strongly then I
won’t let Riley drive today.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You <i>what?</i>” Riley said hotly.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Dale looked down at Flynn, and Paul saw his eyes; the overwhelming relief and the deep <i>thank you</i> for that act of trust.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I
agree.” Paul said to Dale as much as Riley. “Dale, go unbreak both cars
please, then bring us the keys. Yes,” he added when Dale hesitated,
“you don’t control us by taking over and you know that. You tell us what
the problem is and then you trust us. That’s how it works. Go on,
love.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Dale
went. Not willingly but he went, and Jasper went with him. Riley hissed
in sheer exasperation. “He has some random feeling that my driving
today is a bad idea so I can’t drive?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Flynn
reached over to snag Riley’s wrist and pulled Riley over into his lap,
wrapping him enough to prevent a further outburst although to Paul’s
eye, there was as much reassurance in it as restraint. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“This is <i>not</i> fair,” Riley muttered savagely, “I had plans today,”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Flynn
squeezed the arm around his waist. “I know, and I’m sorry. But there’s
no essentials we need in Jackson that won’t wait until tomorrow.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“So he just says and I can’t?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Wait
a minute.” Paul ran a hand through Riley’s hair, moving to sit next to
him and Flynn. “Just give it a minute and we’ll sort this out. I know
you’re angry.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You said you wouldn’t let me drive today, how is that sorting it out!”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Flynn
didn’t answer, waiting. In the garage, one engine started, then the
second. They heard the sound of hoods and doors close, the sound of the
locks engaging and Dale emerged with Jasper and handed the keys to
Flynn.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Sweet.” Flynn said, pocketing them.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Sweet what?” Riley demanded. “Flynn! He can get upset when one of us leaves, you know this happens-”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“How
many times have one of us come and gone to Jackson or Clara’s or to the
garage in the past month?” Paul interrupted gently but firmly enough to
stop him. “How many times have you ever seen Dale ask us not to?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“But
he is right.” Dale said rather tonelessly. “That does happen, it is a
fact. I become randomly obsessed with things at times; that is another
fact,”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“No,
you don’t. Occasionally you get anxious about not knowing when you’ve
done something enough or right. I’ve never known you to focus it on one
of us.” Jasper was standing close to him and he spoke with certainty. “I
have known you, plenty of times, to know something that the rest of us
haven’t picked up on, including when a piece of machinery is going wrong
or when you need to be somewhere or to do something, and you’ve been
proven right. Riley, do you agree?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Riley cast him a grim glance that said yes he did, but he was not ready to admit it.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“So
we need to take some time.” Jasper told him. “Dale, I want you to
detail the cars this morning. Start there. Go over them, check there’s
nothing about them that’s pulled your attention. We’ll see what else
emerges and we’ll know more in a while. And I’ll do it with you, because
put a level on this?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Riley gave Dale a very pointed look.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Dale
answered him immediately and quietly. “Level one. Manipulating or
hiding things to control; not to mention up and down through the night.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Then
let’s straighten you out on managing us instead of talking to us, and
flat out disobeying Jas and I when we ask you to do something.” Flynn
said. “Both of which you know are unacceptable. Go get me a paddle,
kid.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Riley
looked up as if he wanted to say something, but didn’t. Dale went. He
returned a moment later with the lexan paddle in his hand. Riley rolled
his eyes skyward. Flynn took no notice of him, scooting his chair back
to make enough room. He took the paddle from Dale and waited. Dale
unbuttoned his jeans without expression and pushed them down, sliding
his underwear down after them. Flynn turned him over his knee, settling
him with his hands on the floor. Paul could see the tension in his neck
and shoulders, most of which had nothing to do with the paddle in
Flynn’s hand. Flynn pushed Dale’s shirt higher up his back and rested
his hand below it on the small of Dale’s back. He didn’t lecture any
further; just used the paddle to apply a short, but sound and thorough
spanking to the bare bottom over his lap. It took less than five spanks
of the paddle to shift Dale’s silence and the rigidity of his back, he
was yelping and starting to twist almost immediately, and somewhat
ragged but sincere and much more fluent apologies and commitments to
behave followed in swift succession, not that they did much to distract
Flynn. He didn’t stop using the paddle until Dale’s behind was one
solid, warm red across his lap and promises had frayed out into tears.
Which was most of what would do him good. Flynn laid the paddle on the
table when he was done, giving Dale a minute to lay where he was,
shoulders shaking, to catch his breath. Across the table Riley looked
subdued more than angry now. Flynn helped Dale turn over, pulled him up
into his lap wet faced and with any reserve yanked down, and hugged him
as Dale’s arms closed around his neck.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Stop
with the bull. We will straighten this out, and Jasper, Paul and I will
make the decisions on the available information. It is not your
problem. Understood?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Dale’s voice was unsteady but considerably calmer. “Yes sir.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Riley?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">With the lexan on the table Riley answered him swiftly and sincerely. “Yes sir.” </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Then go tack up Leo and Snickers, we’ll check on that heifer and sweep up through the sheep on the other side.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Yes sir.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">It
wasn’t happy, and Riley as he left didn’t look happy, but a long day
spent riding with Flynn was never a bad day where Riley was concerned.
Flynn put Dale on his feet and helped him to sort his clothes out.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You, face that corner there until Jas calls you to sort the cars out. We’ll wait, we’ll see what happens.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“And
if it turns out I am just randomly making stuff up or being
controlling?” Dale trailed off, sounding shaky but he looked
considerably calmer and there was a frankness there now that there
hadn’t been before. Flynn turned his chin up, bringing Dale’s face close
to his and holding it there.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“If you are, then it’s anxiety. It’ll be for a reason, that reason will get clearer and we’ll handle that too. Either <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">way</b>, we are going to be fine. Got it?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Yes sir.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Come
here.” Flynn pulled him into his chest, giving him a crushing hug that
went on a while. Dale gripped him back just as hard; Paul could see the
clench in his shoulders. Flynn kissed him when he let him go, turning
him towards the corner with a soft pat on his backside.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Corner.” He pulled the car keys from his pocket and handed them over to Jasper. “Riley and I’ll be back mid afternoon.”</span><br /><br /> <br /><br /> <br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">*</span><br /><br /> <br /><br /> <br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
Jasper backed the jeeps out into the yard and he and Dale spent the
morning going over them one at a time. Paul, baking and working through
the household chores, kept an eye on them out of the kitchen window. He
saw them both sit on the grass out by the paddocks for a while and knew
they were taking the time to ground, to centre themselves, to clear
energy. After which, they started on the cars and Jasper seemed to be
getting Dale to look at and talk him through each section of the car
workings at a time. It was taking time, it was keeping Dale’s attention
on him as much as the car, and they were unfastening bits and poking
them, and cleaning them. Generally Dale looked as if he was finding it a
useful thing to do; mechanics of any kind was usually something he
could lose himself in for hours without difficulty. To Riley, this would
have been a heavy consequence. To Dale….. no, this was something he
often did for enjoyment, and it would be a practical <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">way</b> to act on anxiety too if that was the issue. And that would be the really hard part for him; the not knowing.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jasper
came in to wash his hands at one point, and having checked through the
window that Dale was still occupied underneath the jeep they were
focused on with a spanner in his hand, Jasper collected the phone and
quietly dialled in a number.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Hello?
Hi Cheryl, it’s Jasper out at Falls Chance Ranch. We’re all good
thanks, how are you? Yes. I was calling to ask, what are the roads like
in Jackson this morning? Traffic all ok?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Paul
went on kneading bread, watching his face. Jasper nodded, absorbing
whatever the Sheriff’s radio dispatcher was telling him.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Ok. Thanks, just considering if we’re going to drive out today.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He put the phone back and shook his head in reply to Paul’s look of inquiry.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Nothing, all clear.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’ve checked the local news sites a couple of times this morning on the computer.” Paul admitted.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“We’re
most likely never going to know.” Jasper said simply. “I’ve had that
conversation with him this morning. How are we ever going to know if he
picked up on something that would only happen if Riley was on the road
this morning in a specific place at a specific time? We can’t. He
doesn’t have the experience yet to know any more than we do. Gifts like
these aren’t convenient, they aren’t meant to be.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“And
he doesn’t get randomly anxious, there’s always a reason and a cause.
We can always find the root of it.” Paul went on pounding dough, having
given this a lot of thought this morning. Dale was right; it was a valid
fear. Sometimes the worst explosions did come out of nowhere for him.
But you could always find the trigger. And Jasper having left Dale under
the jeep instead of insisting Dale came inside with him and stayed in
arm’s reach said a lot too. Jasper was always acutely aware of what
either of their brats needed to feel safe: if he’d truly thought Dale
was struggling this morning he wouldn’t have walked this distance away
from him. “Yes, that’s what I think too.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jasper paused to wrap an arm around Paul’s hips and Paul turned his head to kiss him.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Do you two want to stop for lunch?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’ll take something out and we’ll eat as we work, I’d rather keep him busy.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“All right, I’ll bring a tray out in a while.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Paul
ate out there with them on the porch while they went on working on the
cars, and when they were done the two of them did the yard chores
together, Jasper keeping Dale with him which made everything take longer
but getting things finished wasn’t Jasper’s priority. After which he
took Dale to shower, and the two of them walked down to check the post
box.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Riley
and Flynn came in while they were gone. Paul took tea out to them in
the yard as they were rubbing down the horses. Riley looked his usual
self, he looked up over Snickers’ back with his usual cheerful smile.
His temper while it tended to burn bright in the moment, usually blew
itself out fast. Riley rarely had difficulty in moving on and seeing a
more balanced picture, and if Paul had to guess, Flynn had made
thoroughly sure that Riley had had the chance to rant himself out and
talk himself into a better frame of mind.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Flynn paused in checking Leo’s hooves and straightened up to stretch his back. “Dale been ok?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Quiet, but yes. They didn’t find anything on the cars.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Riley
snorted. “Yeah well the deer I would have hit at ten oh seventeen by
the fourth tree to the left of the eighth rock isn’t there anymore, so
the problem’s over.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You
think that’s what it was?” Paul asked him. Riley went on rubbing
Snickers down in long, hard strokes that Snickers was leaning into and
blissing out over.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Of
course it was. I was mad about it this morning but he doesn’t mess
about without reason. No one else may get the reason, but there always
is a reason.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jasper
and Dale rounded the corner together with a couple of letters in
Jasper’s hand that looked like circulars rather than anything
interesting. Riley ducked under Snickers’ neck to start on his other
side.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Hey. If I was going to take a jeep out and drive to Clara’s place right now would that be ok with you?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Dale,
who had looked rather stiff and as if he was apprehensive about how
angry Riley still was with him, looked towards the jeep and Paul saw him
consider it. Carefully, thoroughly.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Yes. Not a problem.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“And run it up and down the drive and to the landing place?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Yes.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“And out to Pinedale?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Yes.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“And into Jackson?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You don’t want to go to Jackson now.” Dale said almost automatically. Riley paused and nodded at Paul.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“There you go.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“It was the word,” Dale said a little unwillingly, as if he expected this to sound too foolish to share. “<b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">Albion</b>. That was the word that hit me this morning when I saw the garage. That store.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Only because you were worried I’d come back with a trunk full of cones and Flynn would strangle me.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">It
was a gentle attempt at teasing, but Dale shrugged, rather bleakly.
“That’s as possible as anything else. I really don’t know.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">It
was really bothering him. Multi billion dollar deals and international
complexities, easy. He handled those without effort. Responsibilities
like this? Not anything like so straight forward, never where the ranch
and its people were concerned or where he felt a duty through the gift
he had.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Can I go to Jackson tomorrow?” Riley asked Dale. “Anything in you saying to freak about that?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Dale
looked at the jeep again. “No. That seems to be fine when I think about
it. I can’t promise not to change my mind in the middle of the night.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I guess we’ll see.” Flynn let Leo go with a pat to his neck. “Turn Leo into the corral for me.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jasper
walked with Dale down to the corral to open the gate. Paul jogged up
the steps hearing the telephone in the kitchen, leaving Flynn putting
tack away and Riley still grooming Snickers, more now because Snickers
loved it than anything else.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Hello, Falls Chance Ranch?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Flynn
came out of the stables and closed the door, brushing off his hands.
Paul came out onto the porch and leaned on the rail waiting for him.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“That was Cheryl from the Sheriff’s office.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“And?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Paul looked across the yard, waiting too for Jasper and Dale who were coming to join them.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Jas rang her earlier to ask about the roads in Jackson today.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Dale
abruptly stood slightly straighter, like a man before a firing squad.
Paul looked down into the silver-grey eyes, gentling his voice.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“She
just called to say if we’re still planning to drive out today to stay
away. A store delivery truck opened its doors in the car lot on <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">Albion</b> <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">Way</b>
around lunchtime and found a chemical container it was carrying had
exploded. It’s all over the tarmac and the fumes went over everyone in
the vicinity. There’s a few ambulances there, all the store staff and
customers are having to go to hospital to be checked over. The police
have sealed off the road and the fire service are trying to figure out
how to get the chemicals safely up off the ground.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">There was a moment’s silence. Then Riley shook his head.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Wow.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Dale
turned and would have walked away towards the garage except for Jasper
who stepped in front of him, and put his hands on Dale’s shoulders. Dale
braced against him; Paul saw his hands against Jasper’s chest to fend
him off. It didn’t move Jasper an inch. Jasper cupped a hand behind his
head, talking steadily and very gently.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You acted on the information you had. There was nothing more that you could have done.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You can’t be upset that you were right?” Riley said in dismay. “Come on….”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jasper
held Dale where he was, not letting him go. “It’s the first time you’ve
felt anything like this. You had no means of understanding it better or
knowing more.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You <i>can’t</i> feel responsible for anything that happened!” Riley left Snickers and came to them. “Dale, you can’t,”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“People
were hurt.” Dale sounded grim, “What is the point of this if I don’t – I
knew something was going to happen, I knew where,”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Really?”
Riley put a hand on him, close to shaking him, “You did? Because for
the longest time all I got from you was a general idea of something
about not good for me to go. You never said where or why or what time.
So tell me again how you knew all that?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I knew you shouldn’t be there.” Dale said with difficulty. “<b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">Albion</b>, I had that word. I knew I didn’t want you near there or near the jeep.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“And that was all you had? So you were going to call who and say what? I’ve got a bad feeling about that street?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Riley,
I’ve shut down plenty of buildings before now.” Dale gave him a flat
stare, one of his ice stares and they rarely saw those aimed at them.
“If I wanted a street shut down, a street would be shut down.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He meant it. Riley shook his head, seriously and with affection.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“On
a feeling so vague you broke the jeep so we’d just not go out today?
You weren’t even sure enough of what was happening to tell <i>us</i>
about it. Even if you’d closed the street the truck just would have
opened up its broken load somewhere else, you can’t blame yourself.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Enough
now. There’s nothing we can do about it from here.” Flynn jerked a
thumb at Riley. “Take a head collar up and get Petra, halfpint; I dug a
stone out of her near fore this morning and I thought she was bruising.
Bring her down and we’ll soak her hoof.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jasper
pulled Dale’s head against his and Dale returned the hug. Somewhat
wearily but he returned it. Flynn nodded at him when Jasper let him go.
“Go get your journal.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He
waited, hands on his hips, watching. Dale took the outside door into
the study to retrieve the book off the shelf where it lived, and a pen,
and brought both back to him. Flynn opened it to a fresh page. “I want a
description, with a clear timeline, of what you knew and when. Take a
seat on the steps.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Dale
climbed the porch steps and sat, gingerly enough to say he was still
tender from this morning’s paddling. Jasper rested a hand on his head as
he passed and went to feed the dogs.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Flynn,
filling a bucket of hot water for Petra in the stable doorway, kept an
eye on him and saw him sit, hands clasped in front of him with the pen
between them, looking down at the hard earth of the yard. Flynn’s sharp
whistle made him glance up.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Stop chewing and write.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">It
gained him a somewhat fulminating look. Flynn set the bucket down and
crossed the yard to him. Dale raised his hands before he was halfway
there. “Ok, ok, I’ll do it-”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Flynn
tugged him to his feet with one hand and soundly swatted the seat of
his jeans with the other before turning Dale to face him. “First time of
asking, good attitude.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">That
shook the iced look. Dale answered hurriedly and Flynn saw the hand
twitch that was trying not to grab for his backside and rub. “Yes sir.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’ll expect that done when I’m done with this hoof.” Flynn sat him firmly down on the step. “Get on.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Riley
was walking the matriarch of their shire horses over the grass towards
them. Flynn went back to finish filling the bucket, added a heavy dose
of Epsom salts to the water and glanced at Dale. His jaw was tight, but
his head was bent over the journal and he was writing. Once he started,
he would be unable to be anything less than brutally and factually
correct. Petra came into the yard and stooped her great head to meet
Flynn, nudging into his shirt front and hopefully whiffling at his
hands. Flynn rubbed her nose and dug in his pocket to find a lifesaver
which she accepted graciously as Riley tethered her to the rings on the
barn wall.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“She’s walking a bit light on that foot but not exactly limping.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Flynn
patted Petra’s hip and clicked to her as he took her massive, shaggy
foot. She willingly lifted it for him, let him grip it between his knees
and gently prod around the inside of her hoof. “No heat, she’s less
tender there than she was this morning. We’ll soak it and check again in
the morning but that looks better to me.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Petra
stood with her foot in the bucket, serenely ignoring Boris and Raglan,
the other two shires, who were hanging over their paddock fence and
calling to her. Mostly in indignation that she was getting to go out and
they weren’t. Flynn, crouching on the yard earth beside the bucket with
a hand on her knee to steady her, glanced again at Dale. He was
completely absorbed now. Wholly focused in what he was writing,
committed to it. The <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">way</b> he committed, entirely, without guard or reservation to everything that mattered to him.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">When
Riley walked the now comfortable Petra back towards her paddock, the
big shire pacing gracefully with her head looming above his, Flynn
tipped the contents of the bucket down the drain, swilled it out, and
went to sit beside Dale. “Let’s see it.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Dale
surrendered the journal, not too willingly. There were several parts
where he’d annotated; Flynn could feel him itching to write out a neat
copy. Flynn skimmed through it, nodding slowly.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Good.
Now you’ve written risk assessments and crisis analysis plenty of
times. Show me where, based on that timeline within that information,
you could have acted in a <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">way</b> that benefitted the driver of the truck at <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">Albion</b> <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">Way</b>.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I can’t.” Dale admitted. It was grim, he didn’t want to say it. Flynn tapped the page.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“All right. Where could you have benefitted the staff of the shops at <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">Albion</b> <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">Way</b>?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I can’t. Nor the bystanders. I know.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“But you don’t believe it.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I
do.” Dale leaned his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together
between them as if to stop himself taking the pen back and trying to
make the evidence reach another conclusion. “It just seems wrong.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“What seems wrong?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“That
I didn’t know more. That I didn’t make better sense of it.” Dale’s
hands moved in a stifled, expressive gesture. “That I didn’t think more
widely than just about me and mine.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Based on that evidence.” Flynn repeated. Dale looked back at the page.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“There is a responsibility that comes with this.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Yes. There is. You have a sense of service.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Yes.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“And
you tell me that in that service, you are the tool, and not the
architect.” Flynn said bluntly. “That it’s need to know; you don’t get
all the information. That your curiosity and your emotions about what
you can know and how it goes aren’t a part of it. In fact you say they
get in the <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">way</b> of you doing the job as it should be done.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">There
was a long silence. Then Dale breathed out and it was a tired, defeated
sound that went with him abruptly turning a little so his shoulder
leaned against Flynn’s.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I have never liked not knowing.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You would have liked to have been able to protect the people at <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">Albion</b> <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">Way</b> the <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">way</b> you managed to protect Riley.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“After a great deal of ineffective faffing about.” Dale said heavily. “Yes. Very much.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Try that again.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You’re relentless.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I know I’m waiting.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Dale
ran both hands over his face and Flynn felt him lean more of his weight
against him. “I am hideously embarrassed I actually…..”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Took the plugs out of both jeeps.” Flynn finished for him. Dale made a faintly stifled sound from behind his hands.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’m sorry. One day I will stop panicking.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You
will.” Flynn hung an arm around Dale’s shoulders, tugging him closer.
“It’ll happen, kid. All of this will get easier with time and
experience.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He
felt the give in Dale’s body against his; the acceptance of the truth
in that. Then Dale turned his head to find Flynn’s mouth and kissed him,
a brief and gentle kiss that said <i>thank you</i>. Flynn closed the journal and handed it to him.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Put this away and come get a shower with me.”</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">The End</span></span></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"><i><b><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Copyright Rolf & Ranger 2021 </span></b></i> </span><br /></p><p><br /><br /></p>tarabeth1210http://www.blogger.com/profile/14902928357845152351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3812077977994131831.post-90499818051526442152021-07-10T22:32:00.006-07:002021-07-10T22:33:50.590-07:00Naughty but Nice<p><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">23<sup>rd</sup> December 2010</span><br /><br /> <br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">You could see it if you knew him well.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Riley
leaned on the doorframe of the kitchen, looking through a large crowd
of people surrounding the table and helping themselves to brunch. The
day before Christmas Eve there were a few more due to arrive today, the
ones squeaking in on the last flights, <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">but</b>
the majority of the family were now occupying the house and thoroughly
enjoying Christmas the way they always did. It was happy noise and
busyness, Paul was turning out potato cakes from the stove with Luath
and Darcy helping out with washing up and talking with Lito who was
sitting on the counter to be out from under their feet. And Dale was
looking remarkably hot in a pine green shirt that set off the darkness
of his hair and the line of his shoulders in a way Riley was privately
enjoying quite a lot, and he was discreetly, efficiently doing
everything.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He
was listening to and handling conversations while he did it, and he was
doing it discreetly enough that probably no one else around the table
knew. <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">But</b> used glasses
and cutlery were vanishing off the table like snow slipping off a hot
roof, dishes were being moved around the table to within reach of the
older members of the family who found it harder to fight through a crowd
to get around the table, chairs were being placed by the people who
hadn’t yet realised they wanted to sit down <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">but</b>
would in a moment, cup mats were within reach of more or less everyone –
if you really wanted to see Dale’s eyebrows move to stun, put a wet
glass or hot mug down on a wooden surface, he was worse than Paul over
that – and crumbs were vanishing almost before they touched the floor.
Like a master illusionist with a tidying up fetish, and no idea
whatsoever of how to chill.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He,
Paul, Flynn, Niall and James had arrived back from London with vast
amounts of stuff, some of which was really excellent stuff, the
chocolate and cheese in particular. Luath, Wade and the others had
arrived about twelve hours later, and most of them were still dealing
with the jetlag. Flynn in particular was tired and grumpy this morning
and had gone out to deal with the corral horses. His answer to Riley
asking if he wanted help had been a short no, he wanted hard work and
leaving alone, punctuated by a kiss that was both his apology and
appreciation for the offer. Paul was sublimating it in potato cakes. And
Dale………</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Paul caught his eye across the kitchen, nodded very slightly at Dale, and Riley saw the swift message flashed to him. <i>Help? Without embarrassing him if you can, love.</i></span><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Yes.</span></i><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jasper’s
hands rested on his hips from behind, Riley didn’t need to look round
to know it was him. He felt Jasper’s chin rest on his shoulders for a
moment, the warmth of Jasper’s breath on his face and the faint spicy
scent of his aftershave as Jasper looked where he was looking.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’ve got it.” Riley muttered to him. “I’ll drag him out riding-”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Go put outdoor clothes on.” Jasper said in his ear. “Layers.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Well
that sounded promising. The family room wasn’t much quieter than the
kitchen. Riley jogged upstairs and shouldered into the fleece and
sweater and lined pants they were all wearing at the moment to work
outside. He heard Jasper bring Dale upstairs and give him similar
instructions, and they met on the porch a few minutes later in the few
more inches of snow that had fallen since they scraped it this morning,
pulling boots and jackets and hats on. Everyone in the kitchen save for
Paul was being too noisy to notice them go. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“What
is it you need doing?” Dale asked Jasper, leaning on the porch rail and
jumping down into the deep snow in the yard. Riley followed him, not
unappreciative of the effect of landing shin deep in snow, or that Dale
was wholly unaware that he was playing. In the snow. By automatic habit,
because around here he did that. The sheer cluelessness could be
extremely sweet.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Job
up by the bunkhouse.” Jasper said, heading across the yard which was
easier for him since his legs were longer. “We’ll take a look at the
shires on the way.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Riley
followed them, picking up a handful of snow off the fence rail as he
walked. It was white and shining, undisturbed since the heavy fall
overnight, and it was perfect this morning. It crunched in his hand when
he squeezed it. The snow was deeper as they got further away from the
house, and it had drifted several feet high against the fence posts. The
shires were playing in it. Riley loved to watch them gallop, Boris and
Petra were dodging each other in a slow, heavy game of chase that sent
the snow showering from their great hooves. They were thickly blanketed,
a new bale of hay was out in the middle of their pasture, and while the
door to their shelter was open, they were ignoring it and would until
it started to get really cold this afternoon. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">The
bunkhouse looked like a swiss chalet up by the tree line. Heavy snow
covered the roof and the porch, the rails and the window frames. Jasper
stamped on the porch to shake snow off his boots and pulled the key from
his pocket.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Get some of the snow off the porch? I’m going to check the pipes.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">The
small stable at the bunkhouse held some shovels. Dale collected a
couple and the two of them cleared the steps and the front porch. It
didn’t take long; they got in enough practice at shovelling snow at this
time of year that it was something they could do on automatic pilot.
Dale was carefully knocking some of the heavier snow off the windows to
lighten the load on the frame when Riley leaned the shovel against the
porch rail, formed a large snowball and scored a direct hit on the
middle of his back. Dale didn’t react in the least, just continued to
knock off snow. Riley waited, knowing him, and ducked the swift snowball
Dale launched straight back at him as he turned.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Is that a snowball I saw whizz past the window?” Jasper inquired from the door. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Might have been?” Riley said innocently. Jasper nodded, closing the door.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Good
snow for it?” He reached down to feel – and straightened, shying a
snowball straight at Riley as both his brats fled. Dale dodged around
the back of the house and Riley ran after him, which was not easy in
deep snow. There was no sign of Dale behind the house. Jasper caught him
up, glanced at where the footprints stopped and glanced upwards,
signalling to Riley to be quiet. Riley smothered a laugh and backed
away, casually rolling another snowball in his hands.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Dale?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">The
snowball flung from the roof hit him straight in the chest, several
more showered down and Riley heard the thud of Jasper catching several
as he climbed up the porch roof and onto the bunkhouse roof. Riley
walked further back as the snowball shower stopped, far enough to see
Jasper capture Dale and roll him over in the snow to stuff snow down his
neck. He could hear Dale laughing and there was nothing responsible or
subdued about it. Jasper slid off the roof a moment later and reached
back to catch and steady Dale as Dale dropped down after him. Both were
plastered in snow, and both looked cheerful. Jasper shook his hair to
get the worst off.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Come on inside. And strip, don’t walk snow in here, the house is dry.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“It’ll be freezing.” Riley complained.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“It won’t.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">They
stripped and left snowy clothes in the alcove inside the door, which
meant they were down to sweaters, shorts and socks by the time Riley and
Dale followed Jasper into the small sitting room at the back of the
house. It was one of the most protected rooms in the little house, the
windows were thickly curtained and small in the stone walls, and Jasper
had lit a fire in the grate. He must have lit it before the snowball
fight; it was roaring now and the warmth was blasting out into the room.
Dale knelt in front of it, holding his hands out to get warm. Jasper
took a seat on the hearthrug beside him. “Ri, there’s a box over on the
table? Bring it here.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Riley
picked it up. About two foot long, three inches deep, wrapped in gold
paper and the kind of delicate ribbons that Jasper excelled at knotting.
He could add art to parcels.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“It’s
early for gifts?” Riley pointed out with interest, handing it to him.
“Something for Paul? Is there a card you want us to write?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jasper took the box and then his hand, drawing Riley down on the rug with him and Dale.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“No. Go ahead and open it.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Riley
gave him a curious look, settled cross legged and unwound the ribbons.
The paper parted. An ornate lid lay underneath, and Riley lifted it with
delicate fingers. Then he and Dale together burst out laughing. “<i>Chocolate?” </i>Riley demanded<i>. “</i>You want to hole up in here and eat chocolate? Where did you find this much in one box anyway?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“That
has to be about four pounds of the stuff,” Dale pointed out. There was
craftsmanship in the row upon row of individual chocolates inside the
box. Swirls and coloured candy toppings, different shapes, different
colours….</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“It’s Christmas.” Jasper stretched out on one elbow on the rug, selecting one at random. “It seemed like a good idea.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“It’s the best idea ever!” Riley chose one, still laughing.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Dale shook his head. “At eleven o clock in the morning, still full of breakfast?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“That’s right.” Jasper put a hand on his shoulder, gently <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">but</b>
firmly pulling until Dale lay down beside him. He selected another from
the box, bit it in half and put the other half in Dale’s mouth. “What
do you think?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Well
with Jasper leaning on one elbow over him, he didn’t have much choice
other than to try it, although Riley couldn’t help grinning. “Stop
looking like he just fed you a live rat, it’s chocolate. You’ve got
nothing to feel guilty about, hedonism isn’t illegal in this state.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I think it was probably caramel,” Dale said somewhat indistinctly, although it was his <i>you’re all slightly mad </i>voice. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Good.” Jasper selected another, bit that in half too and put the other half in Dale’s mouth. “How about that one?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Probably mint of some kind.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Mmn.” Jasper relaxed beside him, running a hand slowly up and down his chest.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Oh
wow, I just found a hazelnut thing.” Riley stretched out in bliss,
sucking slowly and watching the fire crackle and jump. “Oh this is <i>good</i>. It’s the first time I’ve been anywhere there aren’t ninety seven people talking at me in two days.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Paul’s
currently trying to cater for those ninety seven and he could probably
use a hand?” Dale said rather dryly. Riley snorted.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Come
on, you do know how this works. He’ll tell the nearest person what he
wants done the minute he wants help, and there’s a house full of them.
They’re family, not guests. You don’t have to wait on them, you get to
just enjoy being there with them.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Some of them are quite elderly.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You do realise they will kick your butt if they hear you saying that?” Riley helped himself to another chocolate.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jasper selected two from the box and with care bit both in half. “Close your eyes.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">It was mildly said <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">but</b>
it wasn’t a suggestion. Dale rather slowly did as he was told. It was
something Riley knew hit his buttons. It wasn’t the first time he’d
watched Paul or Flynn or Jas quite intentionally do this with him. There
was a lot of trust involved in letting someone feed you, and there was
even more with his eyes closed. Jasper parted his lips with one finger
and ran one of the opened chocolates across his tongue, taking his time
about it. “That’s one. No, I don’t want to hear what it was. This is the
other one. Which do you like better?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“If
you say ‘better in what sense’ or mention molecular structures I’m
telling Flynn.” Riley said indistinctly. That broke him; Dale laughed,
fending off Jasper.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Ok, ok the second one. I have no idea what either were, <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">but</b> the first one was….reminiscent of soap.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Seriously?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“It was offensively lemony.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“When does a lemon become offensive?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Well I largely assume that depends on what you do with it.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Give
me the soap one?” Riley asked Jasper, who put the remaining half in
Riley’s mouth and the other half of the preferred one to Dale. Riley lay
back, considering.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“It’s
not that overly lemoned. You got made to eat peas in strawberry airs
and marmite before we got hold of you for pete’s sake, lemon fluff can’t
be that bad by comparison?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Right.”
Dale leaned over to search the box, located what he wanted and pushed
it firmly into Riley’s mouth. “If you want ‘it can’t be that bad’-”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“What the heck is this?” Riley demanded, wincing as he chewed. Dale lay back against Jasper.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“A Parma Violet. You’re welcome.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Good grief, it’s like eating air freshener.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Told you.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Is
there anything with chilli?” Riley rolled over to explore, took one
out, licked the base of it and stuck it to Dale’s nose. “There ya go.
Chilli served en cowboy, no soap in sight.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jasper leaned down before Dale could do anything, nipping it delicately off Dale’s nose with his teeth. “Perfect, thank you.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Dale
burst out laughing. Jasper smiled down at him, his dark eyes twinkling.
The front door opened in the distance and Flynn’s voice called down the
hallway. “What’s going on in there?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Absolute obscenity,” Dale shouted back. “It’s appalling.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Get
your kit off and come and help.” Riley called after him. Flynn looked
through the doorway. He’d left his boots and coat at the door and his
face was reddened with cold. He took in the three of them sprawled in
front of the fire and the box of chocolates and his jaw shifted in the
downward tug of one of his real grins. Riley lay back on the rug,
holding out one of the chocolates to him. Flynn unbuttoned and slipped
off still slightly snowy pants, and came to join them. Behind him, Paul
shook snow off his hair. Riley saw him glance past Jasper to Dale, his
eyes warmed and he caught Riley’s eye and smiled.</span><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Thank you.</span></i><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Trust you two to hole up with sugar and drag Dale with you,” he said, taking his own pants off and following Flynn.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Dale was not unwilling.” Dale pointed out. Jasper smiled, hand still stroking up and down Dale’s chest.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“There wasn’t much resistance. Not really. We’re getting him better trained.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Flynn
took a seat on Dale’s other side, stretching out close beside him. Paul
settled next to Riley, leaning around him to take the chocolate Riley
put in his mouth. Riley shifted over to get his head in Paul’s lap,
watching the fire dance.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“So,”
he said casually. “Are we really going to lie here, in total peace and
quiet and no one else around, and just eat chocolate?”</span></p><div class="content clearfix"><div><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">23<sup>rd</sup> December 2002</span><br /><br /> <br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Darling,”
I said firmly, and I may or may not have been holding a kitchen
implement at the time – I think it was a spatula. He later said it was a
carving knife <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">but</b> I’m positive he’s fibbing. “You can stop, right now, or this morning is going to involve a shallow grave in the woods.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">There
are moments when Philip used to look thoughtfully at me, disappear for a
moment and then return armed with my jacket and a handful of cash which
he’d hold out not quite at arms’ length. These he would hand over along
with the keys to one of the jeeps and a suggestion that I went into
town and watched a film or had a meal I hadn’t cooked and had an evening
away from it all. It was extremely tactful and very kind, <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">but</b>
it may also have been to do with wanting to protect his brats from my
head exploding messily all over the kitchen. I was younger then, I
exploded more easily.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">I
do love the house full to the brim and the busyness of it all at
Christmas, and I love every person that comes into the house so it’s fun
from start to finish. <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">But</b>.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">I
had, that morning, gone into the family room and firmly extracted Bear
and Gerry who had tracked muddy snow across the (mopped half an hour
ago) kitchen floor on their way into the bathroom, and put them to work
with a mop and cleaning cloths to return the bathroom to the state I
expected, with a flea in their ears. I had also retrieved Miguel, who
somehow, apparently, runs his own home, and explained about soaking wet
jackets hung up in a pile which would never dry, and sorted the pile of
equally soaking and snow covered jeans waiting by the washing machine
which was working on the load of jeans soaked this morning, since it was
knee deep out there and still coming down. Riley, who went through more
clothes than anyone else because the novelty of serious snow had still
not yet worn off for him and frankly I wasn’t sure it ever would, was
responsible for about a quarter of them. The dryer was running on high
since trying to keep people clothed to go out and do yet more work out
there in a couple of hours’ time was becoming a challenge when there
were this many of them getting plastered in snow at frequent intervals. I
had presented Luath with the stain remover and the cloths and left him
to supervise the sorting out of the wine stain on the rug and referee as
to exactly whose fault it was, as Wade and ‘Lito were hotly debating
the matter.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">And
when I took the car keys and a heavy jacket to nip over to Jackson and
get the last few odds and ends essential to getting through the next few
days, Mr O’Sullivan took them out of my hand and said if I really had
to risk breaking my neck on the roads in this weather then he was
driving me.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">It
was then that I held up the very definitely a spatula, and made the
comment about the shallow grave. And a reminder that I was driving the
roads to Jackson when he was laying in fields in New Zealand doing his
homework.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Flynn
merely snorted at me, ducked straight past my defence to snatch a kiss I
didn’t succeed in dodging, and went to start the jeep.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Men.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">The
high school band were banging out Jingle Bells vigorously in the town
square when we arrived. A couple of the trumpet players were right-note
optional, and they triumphantly hit a high note and slid off it again,
making me wince. Flynn locked the car in the spot he’d insisted we
parked in, and glanced at his watch. “Quick, we’ve got an hour’s
parking.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">There
is a car park two streets away where we can leave the car all day if we
want to. He knows it. I know it. I didn’t waste time arguing with him;
in Flynn’s opinion there is no shopping anyone can justifiably do that
requires more than forty minutes, and he regards that as him being
extremely generous. I pulled out my list and surveyed it, since I’d
spent a fair amount of time last night in planning. He was not going to
hurry me; he could just forget that idea.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Whatever you’re going to do, go do it. I have to grocery shop.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I have nothing to do,” he said infuriatingly. “I came to help you.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“No,”
I informed him, heading across the icy street and ignoring that he was
gripping my arm as if I was going to slide over if he stopped playing
the Neanderthal for two minutes. “You hate grocery shopping.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’m perfectly capable of following you around and carrying bags.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Go to the library. Look at saddles.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He held open the door into the butchers.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“We
don’t need a ham that size,” was the first helpful comment he made. “No
one needs a ham that size, you could feed Michigan with that.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">The butcher looked at me in consternation since I’d ordered the ham two months ago.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“That
is exactly the size I need,” I said very firmly to the butcher. “It’s
perfect in fact, since I know exactly how many meals I need it for and
exactly what the stock I will be making from the ham bone is for,
because I think about these things. A lot. I don’t actually pull meals
out of a hat, they require planning for. I also need all twenty pounds
of the turkey.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I could take out a mortgage with what that costs.” Flynn commented as I handed cash to the poor butcher.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“It’s worth every cent,” I said even more loudly and firmly. “Thank you. That’s lovely. Have a wonderful Christmas.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Flynn
wrestled me for the two bags and held the door for me out onto the
street. “Stand here, I’ll put this in the car. Stay off that ice.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I am not going to fall if I take two steps without you.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“These pavements are bloody lethal, stay put.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Apparently
magically immune from falls himself he headed rapidly back towards the
square. The high school band was still going strong. A group was walking
down the street, mostly consisting of truly embarrassed local high
school seniors dressed as elves in stripy leggings and tunics, waving to
the crowd and trying desperately to avoid the eye of their parents,
siblings and school friends. I stood with the crowd and watched for a
moment. In the middle of it a man was dressed in a Santa outfit and was
vigorously ringing a bell. Which was more tuneful than the band. He was
followed by a seven foot tall, two legged reindeer with an enormous mask
head.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Oh
my God.” Flynn said in my ear, reappearing behind me. “Well that should
successfully traumatise every small child in the town.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Behave.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You
did see the shed they had in the children’s play area over by the
square? The one they had marked at Halloween with the sign saying
‘abandon hope all ye who enter here?’ and told all the kids it was a
haunted house? I just passed it. They’ve cleaned off the cobwebs and
written ‘Santa’s Grotto’ on it now as though children lack any form of
memory. Come on in little kiddies. We’ve got forty five minutes left on
the parking.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">If I tried throttling him, he’d probably laugh.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Fruit.” I said, determinedly ignoring him.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">The
Christmas lights were flashing over the main street, all the way down
to the ski lift. At this time of year with this much snow, the resorts
were full, the town was hopping with tourists and the pavement was
crowded. I kept a strong supply of apples, oranges and lemons in supply
in the cold of the garage through the winter, and I’d stocked up
prepared for Christmas a good month back. Fresh soft fruit however, as
opposed to what I bottle in the fall, has to be bought fresh. I wanted
grapes to frost for the top of desserts, I had a pavlova in mind for
tomorrow evening’s buffet which is always a bit of a special one in our
house and I like to make it as varied as possible. Limes are useful for
dressings, and for putting in ice cream bombes which I was fairly sure
some of our finickier cowboys would say were beneath them as
insufficiently manly <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">but</b>
Gerry and Jasper wouldn’t care, and we have more than a few people in
the family addicted to bananas and berries for their breakfast pancakes.
</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Flynn
kept his mouth shut and just took packs of fruit from me to hold,
pointedly moving out of the way of two little boys, aged about three and
five, who were battling it out on the floor beneath the melons while
their harassed looking father was debating his shopping list by cell
phone with whoever had sent him out. They were rolling on the floor and
it had reached the point of grabbing hair and squealing when we went to
the checkout.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“If
people can’t control their offspring,” Flynn muttered, stuffing fruit
into a paper bag as the cashier rang up, “I want the right to come
shopping with a rope.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Go and look at saddles.” I ordered under my breath, preventing him squashing raspberries.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You need help.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Right now I really, passionately, want you to go and look at saddles.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">The melons finally tipped over. The father yanked the boys to their feet, still wrestling with the phone.</span><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Everybody knows a turkey and some mistletoe help to make the season bright</span></i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">, the store music was playing. <i>Tiny tots with their eyes all aglow…</i></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Screaming and hitting each other with melons…” Flynn added.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“<i>Flynn O’Sullivan</i>!” we were stepping out of the shop door at the time and I don’t thunder as well as he does <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">but</b>
about half the people on the pavement turned around. I dropped my voice
as much as I could, grabbing the bag of fruit off him. “<i>Get</i> your
behind as far away from me as you can manage before I do something I’m
going to get arrested for!” I saw the glint in his eye, and swatted him,
which never makes a whole lot of difference. “And I <i>don’t</i> mean like that! Give me the car keys and <i>go away</i>.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’ll put that in the car,” he said, trying to take the fruit. “We’re down to thirty minutes parking-”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">I let him have the fruit, turned on my heel and stalked away. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">I
needed a coffee. Preferably a lot of coffee. And to be somewhere not
knee deep in cowboys. It was on days like this I really missed Philip
who used to be very good at offering a well-timed hug and a sympathetic
ear, having spent much of his life living with a particularly difficult
cowboy himself.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">It
was then I heard the screech of brakes in the street. There was, thank
goodness, no bang. I whirled around. The man with the two little boys
must have followed us out of the shop. He was face down on the road, the
cell phone he’d been knocked out of his hand and he wasn’t moving. The
driver of the car was running around the hood looking distraught. I
jogged as best I could across the road as most people in the street were
standing in shock and doing nothing useful. There was the man; I
couldn’t see the kids and that was terrifying. A second later someone
sprinted past me regardless of the ice and snatched up the smaller of
the two boys who had wandered on past the car towards the other lane of
still moving traffic, scooping him out of danger. It was Flynn. As I
knelt beside their father, Flynn swung the smallest boy to sit on his
hip and grabbed the hand of the other child, leading them back towards
the sidewalk. “This way. This way honey, stand with me.” </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">That
tone worked on every panicking horse and brat I knew. With the kids
safe, I knelt beside their father on the ice. I couldn’t see any blood,
he was sprawled <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">but</b> there were no angles suggesting anything broken.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I didn’t hit him!” the driver of the car sobbed to me, wringing her hands, “I stopped as soon as I saw-”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“He slipped, I saw it.” someone else said behind me. “He slipped on the ice in front of you, you never touched him.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">The
locals around here are good and mostly chilled out people; I saw
whoever it was had an arm around her shoulders and someone else was
checking the front of her car.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“He’s
only knocked his head, he’s coming round.” I rubbed the man’s shoulder
as he lifted his head, groaning. “Hey. Are you ok? Anything hurt?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Ow.” the man said from the heart. “<i>Ow.</i> Oh God, the boys-”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“They’re
here, I’ve got them.” Flynn was crouching on the pavement with an arm
around the youngest child and the other one beside him, and from what I
could see he’d pulled lifesavers from his pocket where they always
resided for the horses, had broken several into fragments and was in the
process of feeding the bits to the kids to keep them busy, in about the
same way he does with foals. There’s no one small or vulnerable he
can’t calm, and it was working. With their father sitting up and looking
more normal, the kids were willingly splitting their attention between
him and the candy.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Arms and legs ok?” I said mildly to the guy, helping him get upright. “Take a minute and check it all works.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’m
good. Just sore.” The man put his hand up to rub the rising egg on his
head. I picked his phone up and gave him my arm for support as he got to
his feet.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Is there someone we can call for you? You should probably get yourself checked over, you were knocked out.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“My wife’s up the street, we were…” he rubbed his head again.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Getting the last bits of shopping?” I suggested. He grimaced at me.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Yeah. Fun isn’t it?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I
think your phone’s ok,” I began and stopped as I saw a woman in jeans,
boots and a thick parka making her way down the icy street as fast as
she was able, and she looked terrified. “Ah. Is this her?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">If
the guy had looked sheepish before he looked way more sheepish now. The
woman took in the kids eating peppermint with Flynn and came straight
to her husband, gently touching the lump on his head.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I saw the traffic stop – tell me that wasn’t you?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I slipped, that was all.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“He was knocked out for a few seconds,” I told her, “Only a few, he seems pretty oriented,”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’ll
make sure he’s ok, thank you.” The woman put her arm around her
husband’s waist. Flynn brought the boys across to them. The crowd on the
pavement began to disperse. Flynn’s arm came around my waist and
squeezed. “Coffee?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">The
street was freezing cold, I was even colder now from kneeling on the
ice, and it came out before I’d had time to consciously think about it.
“Oh yes please.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">I
waited outside one of the many shop fronts dispersing hot drinks while
he bought them, thinking that there he was, doing the exact same thing
he’d been doing to me since the day I met him. Being ruggedly gorgeous,
absolutely infuriating and the kind of man who turned shopping into a
hell. While also snatching small children out of traffic, being there
the second I needed him, and comforting a bewildered toddler with a
gentleness that turned my heart over watching him do it. There is
nothing about that man that is straight forward.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He brought me a cup with a lid and I leaned with him against the wall, taking a sip. My eyebrows shot up at the taste of it.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Schnapps?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“And cream. And a peppermint stick, obviously because what else would you throw in what’s supposed to be coffee?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">I
grabbed his drink out of his hand and sipped it. Of course he had plain
Americano. Since he wouldn’t drink something with a peppermint stick in
it if you paid him. His dark green eyes laughed at me. On the other
hand, alcohol and sugar were exactly what I wanted right now, and of
course he knew it. He always knows it. I went back to drinking the
schnapps. It did help. Flynn’s hand found my spare one and held it, his
thumb tracing over my knuckles.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“There’s twenty minutes left on the car.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Argh.
I was going to kill him. I grabbed him by the collar and snatched a
quick kiss instead. They can be infuriating, cowboys, and as someone
very wise said once, there’s no re sale value. <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">But</b> I wouldn’t ever be without them.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"> </span></div><div><div class="content clearfix"><div><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">The
spinning seemed to go on forever. Riley, clutching the dash and the
door, was aware of Dale turning the steering wheel beside him with a
look of cool concentration as the jeep slid, then the front right wheel
buried itself in a snow drift, they were both flung hard against their
seatbelts, and the car was still. Dale turned off the engine. The
silence was shocking. Riley, rigid with shock from the smash of a moment
ago, struggled to catch his breath. He felt Dale’s hand on his knee, a
calm grasp, then Dale was out of the car and jogging towards the truck
behind them.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">It was on its roof. The truck was on its roof.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">With
shaking hands, Riley popped his seat belt, looked blankly at the
snowbank blocking his door from opening, and climbed out over the
driver’s seat. Dale was wrenching at the truck’s driver door. Riley went
to help him. The man was upside down inside, hanging from his seat
belt, and the engine was still running. It took both of them to prise
the bent door open, however long hours of hauling cattle, sheep and
horses together made this easy. They didn’t need to exchange a word to
get hold of the guy, shift his weight enough for the seatbelt to
release, and then manhandle him out between them as gently as was
possible.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Sitting
on the icy road, he proved to be fairly elderly. Silver haired, thin,
starting to shiver in the ridiculously below temperature of a sunny
Wyoming winter morning on the white glare of snow, <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">but</b> his eyes were alert and clear, and while he was shaking, he gave them a rueful nod.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Thanks.
I’m sorry, the truck went out of control on the ice and I went into the
back of you. I was watching the road, watching the distance, I don’t
know what happened-”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“It’s like a freaking ice rink out here today.” Riley reassured him, “Are you hurt?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“No, just shaken about.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Got a jacket in the car?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“In the back.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Dale
was leaning through the driver’s cockpit, and Riley heard the engine
cut out and the sound of the keys being pulled out of the ignition. The
clutter of belongings dropped to the roof of the truck held a coat, old <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">but</b>
thick, and the guy accepted his help to pull himself to his feet and
get the coat on. It was a battered truck, and had been before it was
flipped. Many ranchers’ vehicles had seen service longer than city ones
did; make do and mend was a way of life out here. Riley stood back to
survey it, seeing Dale doing much the same.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“We’re not going to be able to roll that back up, are we?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“The
floor pan’s buckled,” Dale leaned over the upturned truck bottom to
examine it, placing his hands carefully on the smoking and oily metal.
Steam was rising strongly in the freezing air, a white mist lifting from
both their cars, and the smell of engine oil was strong. “And the
exhaust’s fractured, it’s not drivable. Where were you headed, sir?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“John Dolan.” the man offered his hand to Riley since Dale had gone to look at the jeep. “I … had a meeting, <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">but</b> they didn’t show. I was heading back to Pinedale.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Riley
Hamilton and Dale Aden, we’re from the Falls Chance ranch about five
miles over that way,” Riley nodded in the general direction. “I’m afraid
there’s no cell phone signal around here, we can’t call a garage-”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“The
jeep’s drivable.” Dale interrupted. Despite the fact he had no coat on
and it was perishing out here, he was laying on his stomach on the ice
examining the undercarriage and he pushed briskly to his feet. “We can
take you-”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Well
to the ranch. Obviously. A warm kitchen and plenty of tea while the guy
waited what would probably be hours for a garage to get a truck out
here. <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">But</b> Dale paused,
looking sharply at something beyond the jeep. Riley knew the look. Dale
looked quizzical for a second or two, and then faintly impatient at
something Riley couldn’t see, <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">but</b> then he went on in the exact same tone,</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“- to the garage up the road. There’s a phone there and they may have a recovery vehicle.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">The
garage was some miles further than the ranch. Starting to shiver in
earnest, Riley shook his head and opened the passenger door.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Come get in the warm, John. Dale, want to slide that truck off the road?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">The
road was icy enough that between them they slid it on its roof without
too much difficulty to where it was less likely to cause more accidents.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“What?” Riley muttered to Dale while they were out of John Dolan’s earshot.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Yes.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Who?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“David.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Why the garage?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I
have no idea.” To Riley’s ears Dale sounded more than slightly ticked
about it. There wasn’t time to ask more. They got back into the warmth
of the jeep, and Dale reversed with care back onto the road. He was –
Paul would add that this was contingent on him having at least one of
them in the car with him – an exceptionally good driver in this weather.
It was why Riley had gladly handed him the keys to let him drive when
they left the ranch. And it was typical; in this weather, this close to
Christmas, this road might see a vehicle an hour. And they’d still
managed a collision.</span><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Flynn is going to go mad.</span></i><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Where were you headed?” John asked them. Riley glanced back to him from the passenger seat.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Home. We were helping out over at a neighbour’s ranch, it’s a lot of snow shovelling for one person alone. Are you local?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“No.
Lived over at Pinedale for most of my life.” The guy’s shivering was
stopping in the warmth of the car. “I was supposed to meet with my son.
Up at that garage, actually. That was where we were supposed to meet.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“He didn’t show?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“No.”
the man sounded tired. “I waited an hour. We hadn’t talked in a while –
a few years. Swapped a few letters, he agreed to come meet me and talk…
I guess he thought better of it.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’m sorry.” Riley said quietly. The man gave him a resigned shrug.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“It’s
my fault, not his. Christmas always seems like a good time to try and
fix things. Sometimes I wonder if that’s a good thing or not.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">They
passed Clara’s place, where the newly ploughed and shovelled driveway
bore testament to their handiwork this afternoon. Some minutes further
on, the garage came into sight. Riley was watching the snowdrifts at the
side of the road and only noticed as Dale failed to turn in at the
garage. John Dolan also glanced over in surprise.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Hey, that was the garage there.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Where are you going?” Riley demanded. Dale winced.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Sorry. Day dreaming. I’ll find somewhere to turn around.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">What?
Riley gave him an ironic look. No, he didn’t daydream when he was
driving. The man moved around the county like he had inbuilt satellite
navigation; he went exactly where he planned to go with the same
mathematical precision with which he handled the wheel in the middle of a
collision spin. And ‘find somewhere to turn around?’ There was no
traffic for miles, he could have done a fifty-two-point turn right here
in the middle of the road without bothering anyone.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You sure you didn’t get a knock when I ran into you?” Dolan asked him. “You’re looking a little spacy?”</span><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">That’s just his thinking about a What look; you get used to it</span></i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">.
Riley was looking for something helpful to say to stall for time, when
Dale abruptly slowed the jeep and drew it to the side of the road.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Here.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“What’s here?” Riley demanded. “Now what are you doing?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Tracks. Look.” Dale turned off the engine and got out.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Take a <i>coat</i>.” Riley reminded him, grabbing theirs from the back seat. “Not Freezing Is Fun. Where are you going?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Is
your friend ok?” Dolan demanded, following them. Dale walked briskly,
some feet forward to where – Riley saw them, the marks in the ice of a
swerving vehicle, and began to jog after him, zipping his jacket.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Oh hell. In the ditch? They’d have landed in the ditch.”</span><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Please don’t let this be Clara or Emmett. Please.</span></i><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Dale was already climbing down the deep snow of the ditch. Riley saw the truck on its side and swore. “That’s <i>Mac</i> – is he in there?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Dale climbed out over the hood, swiping snow off the window. “Yes.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Riley
felt for handholds, pulling himself up onto the side of the truck.
Through the back window he caught sight of Mac through the snowy glass,
his face alight with relief, waving to them from where he was sprawled.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“The door’s buckled.” Dale said shortly, “We won’t get that open without power tools.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Put
your coat on. We’ll smash the window, I’ll get a tire iron.” Riley
jumped down to jog back to the jeep. By the time he got back, Dale had
managed to communicate through the window to Mac, who had pulled his
sweater and coat over his face as far as he could. Riley dug the tire
iron into the windscreen with all his strength, hacking until it
shattered. With Dale’s assistance they managed to batter and kick out
the screen until they cleared the glass and Dale pulled his knife from
his pocket, leaning inside to cut Mac free of the seatbelt. Mac gripped
his hand, Riley grabbed a handful of Mac’s sweater and jeans, and
together they hauled him out. He was white and shivering with cold and
probably with shock too, <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">but</b> he clambered down off the truck by himself and shook his head as Riley followed him.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“How
the hell did you know I was there? I really thought I’d had it, I’d be
lucky if anyone ever found me, there’s no one on the road today and I
was right out of sight of the-”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He paused, staring at the grey haired man standing on the road. The man nodded to him.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Mac.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Dad.” Mac looked to Riley. “Did he tell you to come looking for me?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I
waited at the garage an hour.” Dolan told him. “I’d given up, I was
heading home when I rear ended these two. My truck’s written off – same
as yours by the look of it. They were taking me back to the garage when
they missed the turning, and they saw the tracks.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Well
actually someone had sent them on if Riley had to guess. Coincidences
tended to stack up like this when Dale’s Whats got involved. Dolan took
Mac’s hand to pull him up the bank.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Are you ok?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Bruised.”
Mac turned his head gingerly this way and that, trying it out. “Nothing
worse. I hit a patch of ice and the truck just slid sideways, I
couldn’t do a thing.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“We’ll take you home.” Riley told him.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Dolan
cleared his throat, looking at Mac. “I’m … probably not going to get a
tow truck out here today. If I come with you I’m probably stuck with you
overnight.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You’re welcome to come with us if that works better for the two of you.” Riley said, picking up on the man’s unease, <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">but</b> Mac shook his head.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“S’ok Riley. That’s no problem.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">They
dropped Mac and his father at the Yellowback ranch. Mac nodded his
thanks as he got out of the jeep, the quiet and sincere nod of one
neighbour to another in this place where people weren’t effusive <b class="coloradmin" style="color: #00ab00;">but</b> where they’d help without question or hesitation.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I appreciate it guys. I’ll call Falls Chance and let them know what's happened and you're on your way.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Yeah that really wasn’t helpful of him, not that it would have been polite to say.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">The End</span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"> </span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"><i><b>Copyright Rolf & Ranger 2021 </b></i><br /></span></div></div><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"> </span></div></div><p><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"> </span></p>tarabeth1210http://www.blogger.com/profile/14902928357845152351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3812077977994131831.post-41731512121519922642021-07-10T22:17:00.005-07:002021-07-10T22:19:24.168-07:00Also On The Corner of 5th<p><i><span style="color: #800180;"> <span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Happy start of summer
to those of us on the upper side of the equator! We had some time and
started work on the ongoing stories we've got started. However, some
maniacal plot bunny hopped all over the place until we finally gave up
and followed him. What do you really need when you have a full length
novel about three quarters done, and several novellas paused mid book?
Well obviously, another different ranch story! </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">You remember the story<b> On the Corner of 5th</b>? </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Well this is <b>Also On The Corner of 5th</b>. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">R&R </span></span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">The tables were increasingly full in the grand dining room beneath the chandeliers. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Plenty
of people in leathers, although there were suits and formal dresses,
costumes and all the rest of the paraphernalia you would expect to see
at a particularly high end BDSM event. Several of the waiters were
serving in leather chaps and very little else, and there was at least
one who’d walked past the stage on a leash. Champagne was still flowing
in the wake of a highly expensive dinner, and the sense of anticipation
in the room was rising. </span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">What the hell are you doing? </span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Aware
that his palms were slick with sweat, his knees were starting to shake,
and that he honestly had little idea, Darcy stood a little straighter
in the spot he’d been positioned in. It was officially backstage,
although the stage had been created with curtains and screens and looked
highly artistic and formal, while at the same time providing those
working with easy glimpses to keep tabs on what was going on in the body
of the room. </span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">It’s perfect. I know; I designed it. </span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He’d
supervised the setting up of this room personally. It had been the work
of most of the past week, among organising the many other complicated
aspects of this event. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">There
were plenty of staff quietly running the show back here, including
amongst the number of Dominants, a couple who Darcy could see were
looking at him increasingly frequently. There were fifteen of them in
this line that the staff were supervising. Most of them very partially
dressed, and almost all of them looking either excited to the point that
it was becoming x rated, or blissed out with anticipation. Somewhere,
early in his life, Darcy had cultivated what Gerry and Roger used to
privately refer to among themselves as the Foxtrot Oscar expression. It
was one of serene distance, a slightly amused and sophisticated air that
had got him a long way. He was using it now, although the thought of
either Gerry or Roger was one that he pushed away as sharply as
possible. Tonight was no time to be thinking of them. At all. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Here.”
One of the older male Dominants, a man in a crisp tux that gave the
impression the younger men in leathers were merely schoolboys yet to
graduate, touched Darcy’s hand and Darcy took the crystal glass,
gratefully sipping the iced water. The man’s eyes were sharp, and Darcy
was neither used to nor entirely comfortable with the way they surveyed
him, not stopping politely at his face but taking detailed, careful
account of his body, a lot of which was currently very visible to view
in this costume. There was nothing predatory or invasive about it at
all; it was a look that searched for himself, <i>how exactly are you doing right now?</i>
as if he couldn’t be relied upon to be sure. It wasn’t at if he hadn’t
seen plenty of men do this many times before; just not at him. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’m
a little warm,” Darcy said in the bright, cheerful tone that they’d all
been familiar with him since the planning meeting. In which they’d all
been wearing a lot more clothing. The man did not stop looking until he
himself was done. Then he shifted his stance, just slightly, but it
meant that Darcy was more screened from sight from the rest of the
performers and staff waiting. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’m
not sure that’s the truth. I’m going to remind you that you do not have
to do this. It is perfectly fine to change your mind and we’ve had
people step down even at the point they’re called on stage, it is
normal. We do consent here.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’ve signed everything you needed,” Darcy pointed out. The man’s eyes didn’t waver. Darcy smiled at him, finishing the water. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Really. If I feel any differently I won’t hesitate to say, but it’s fine.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He
knew the look he got in reply to that too, and that was one with which
he was personally very familiar. That was the look of a dominant man who
was thinking in the privacy of his own head about if you and he had any
kind of personal understanding at this moment, this conversation would
not be over. </span><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Several
of the stage crew with headsets were starting to signal. One of them
smiled at Darcy as she passed. He’d had the reputation amongst them in
the past week of work that he always had with the crews he worked with.
The high energy, unshakeable organiser with the expensive, high fashion
clothes and the foot squarely in the high fashion world; slightly camp,
slightly risqué, discreetly involved in a varied and exciting high life
that they never more than glimpsed and gossiped about. A sophisticate,
au fait with the wildest parts of society and with very few hang ups.
They hadn’t been in the least surprised to find him involved in the
night itself; the admiration was in their glances. This is exactly the
kind of place and event you would fully expect Darcell Julian to be very
at home in, if you knew his professional reputation. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">A
woman in a leather harness and gliding on astoundingly high heels was
guided past him towards the stage. Lot number one. Available for seventy
two hours of whatever her buyer chose, although the contracts were
extremely specific and hard limits were not only very clear but had been
very thoroughly checked by the organisers. Having had a hand in it
himself, </span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">And advised on, because goodness knows I have all the observed experience and can sound very convincing, </span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">It had been really rather easy to cheat the safeguards placed to avoid a complete novice ending up on the stage. </span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">What are you doing?</span></i><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Mostly shaking. </span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">The
bidding for the woman went on for some minutes before it slowed down,
and the figure paused in the realms of several thousand dollars. It was
not surprising. There was a lot of money in the room tonight, and this
was a well known event. By the time they reached the fourth lot, the
room was increasingly relaxed with a large crowd of people enjoying
themselves, and Darcy was aware he’d reached a point of unreality. The
room seemed distant, the sounds muffled, everything very far away. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Lot
five.” The older Dominant touched his elbow, making a courtly gesture
to signal Darcy ahead of him. He did not look any less grim about it.
Darcy straightened his spine even further, pulled together the
sophisticated, ever so slightly amused expression and strolled ahead of
the man onto the stage. The lights were artfully arranged; he’d spent
hours with the tech crew to ensure it. The Dominant announced the lot
number, the few clear guidelines they had stated each time to specify
what the purchaser should be aware of and the limits, which on the forms
as Darcy had seen them, ranged in general terms from <i>dinner companion and escort, no sex</i>; to <i>would like to be nailed through the floor day and night by a small team of deranged maniacs</i>. His own given instructions…. Yes, this was not the time to go there. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He
saw the numbered paddles raise without having heard anything much of
what was being said. There was just a sea of faces ahead of him amongst
the blinding shimmer of the stage lights. The Dominant’s hand was still
on his elbow; not in any way pushing him forward. There was a hell of a
lot more unwillingness to let him step any further forward than <i>here’s today’s special offer</i>. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">The
bidding had hit four thousand. It was still fairly high speed. The
auctioneer at the podium wasn’t looking their way, all her attention on
the room. Five thousand dollars. The bidding was down to three; Darcy
could not see who. It slowed further. Dropped to two bidders. And very
quickly the price froze and Darcy heard the gavel fall. Five thousand
eight hundred dollars. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">The
Dominant guided him down the steps on the opposite side of the stage,
and stood there with him. There was much going on out of sight in the
holding area here; credit cards being cleared, payments organised, and
due to the nature of the event several payments being made in cash. It
was a blur around Darcy. The Dominant did not release his elbow, holding
him well out of the way of the coming and going. It was only as the
team clearing payments said a very polite thank you, enjoy yourselves
and goodnight that Darcy felt himself being drawn forward. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Lot five,” the Dominant said over his head, grimly. “He’s all yours.” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Man
or woman? Darcy hadn’t specified on his forms. What was the point? It
wasn’t as if it mattered. Heart sickly thundering, he saw black suit in a
sea of black suits, and pulled himself together as it was definitely
the time to smile, be charming, <i>get the hell on with it</i>. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Then a hand took his arm, and it was neither tentative, nor amorous, nor <i>you’re mine boy, get over here</i>.
Instead it towed him smartly out of the way of several waiters passing
through with trays, and Darcy looked up – and up again, as the man in
the immaculate tux was taller than anyone else around them – and stared
in shock as the man gave him an equally grim look. Wide shouldered, fair
haired in an immaculate tuxedo, he glanced over Darcy’s head to nod to
the Dominant, voice calm. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Thank you Michael, I appreciate it.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">It was Jake. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">It was actually Jake. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jaw
dropping, face turning so hot that Darcy felt it burning with absolute
humiliation, Darcy watched the Dominant give Jake a nod and return to
the backstage area. Jake, gripping his arm, pushed him very briskly
behind a curtain and across to one of the service hallway entrances. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“How <i>dare</i>
you?!” Darcy began in absolute fury about halfway down that hallway as
his stomach returned to its place and his knees began to shake in
earnest. “How <i>dare </i>you Jacob! What are you doing here? Get off me-”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Give
me,” Jake said very calmly, very pleasantly, still pushing him at high
speed down the hallway, and there was no way that Darcy could have
pulled free of that large hand wrapped around his arm, “Just one more
excuse and I will swat you. It’s already taking all the self control
I’ve got. And in that outfit, I really don’t think you want me to.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">In
this outfit… goodness knows he’d let the family see some of the weirder
stuff in his time, it was something he did quite deliberately to shock
them, but this one was not one he’d have ever allowed any of them to
have seen him wearing, even in his worst nightmares. He was barefoot,
something he only remembered when Jake took him straight out of a side
door onto the street and to one of the waiting cabs in rank. With no
choice about it, Darcy climbed where he was pushed, didn’t hear what
Jake said to the driver, and ran his hands over his face, too humiliated
and furious to think straight. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You have no right at all,”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I
have every right, I bought you.” Jake interrupted him. “Considering you
could be headed anywhere with anyone with any agenda right now, and you
were open to that, you don’t have much grounds for objecting to it
being me. Sit down, be quiet.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">That
was a tone Darcy knew well although the family didn’t use it with him.
Jake looked at him before he had time to argue, blue eyes glinting and
voice soft, “And before you remind me that you don’t play those games,
I’ll remind you that’s exactly what you signed yourself up to tonight.” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Darcy
froze, flushing even more darkly. The cab didn’t go far. It was only a
couple of streets before it halted, Jake passed some bills to the driver
and got out, holding the door for Darcy to follow. There he pulled off
his tux jacket and wrapped it around Darcy’s shoulders. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Put that on.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“So
I’ll look respectable?” Darcy snarled at him. Jake put a hand in the
small of his back, pushing him faster than he could comfortably walk
into the glass foyer of an expensive hotel. He did not pause at the
desk, simply took Darcy straight into an elevator and a moment later
down a carpeted hallway where he unlocked a room. By that point, Darcy
was utterly terrified that they would find Tom in it. It was some relief
that it was empty, other than a single rucksack by the bed, and the
hanger and wrappings from the hired tux Jake was wearing. Jake closed
the door behind them, put the lights on, and put Darcy down on the end
of the bed. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">There
were any number of things Darcy would dearly love to have spat at him.
But that threat to swat was still very much in the air, and animal
instinct said that at this moment, he’d probably never been closer to it
becoming a reality. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jake
was moving around the room. Furious and utterly humiliated, Darcy
wasn’t paying attention to where until a glass landed in his hand and
Jake pulled him up off the bed by his arm, took the jacket off his
shoulders and took him into the bathroom. A bath was running. Jake
tapped the glass. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Get that down. Now.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’m-”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You’re
shaking like a leaf and you’re frozen.” Jake said bluntly. “Then you
can get yourself out of that contraption you’re wearing, because if I
have to do it for you it’ll be with a pocket knife.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I hate you, Jacob.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“We’re both going to survive the experience.” Jake folded his arms. “Want me to count?” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Foxtrot Oscar. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Darcy
drained the single finger of amber liquid in the glass. It was brandy,
not at all his taste, but there was only about one large swallow there.
It still made him choke, like a kid on his first drink, and burned from
his nose to his gullet. Jake took the glass from him. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Get that thing off.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’ll
bet if you saw Tom in this you wouldn’t be complaining.” Darcy couldn’t
help the question that followed, “Where is he anyway?” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Not
in this city. You don’t have to worry.” Jake took the leather harness
from him and waited. “Are those shorts spray painted on?” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Oh
shut up.” Darcy peeled off the leather chaps shorts and the g string
underneath, dropping them to climb into the bath. He was shaking. He was
also freezing; the water was the first warmth he’d felt in hours. Jake
collected the abandoned clothes, which was almost more than Darcy could
bear. He was gone a moment; Darcy heard the tap at the door and Jake’s
voice answering, and a moment later he brought a large mug of hot
chocolate to the bath, putting it into Darcy’s hands. The tub was more
or less full. Jake turned off the taps and sat on the edge of the tub,
looking down at him. Darcy looked down into his mug. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“What the actual fuck, Darce?” Jake said after a while, conversationally. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He
was the only Top in the family who’d swear like that. It was a habit
Philip had never managed to convince him was a problem, and he was
fairly immune to Tom’s stern tellings off about it too. This was
probably in fact the least shockable Top of the entire lot of them, but
Darcy suspected he’d managed to do it. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“It
is my life, I’m a free adult.” Darcy gave him a furious look over the
mug. “You have no idea what I do in my free time and nor should you.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Except
when I get an alarmed call from Michael Morrison saying a total novice
has apparently lost his mind and is determinedly trying to pass himself
off as an experienced submissive, he can’t let it go ahead but he also
can’t find a way out for you without humiliating you.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“He’s managed that.” Darcy said bitterly. Jake snorted. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“No.
He didn’t. According to everyone else in that room you were sold like
anyone else, and for a very good price. He managed that for you, your
public reputation is as exciting as you apparently wanted it to be. But
only because I swore to him I’d outbid anyone else and he could be
certain if he let you on that stage you wouldn’t end up in anyone else’s
hands but mine, and even then he had a plant in the room to bid for you
in case. Experienced sub?”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Neither you nor Michael know anything about what I do in my free time-”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Oh
Morrison knows, you weren’t fooling anyone.” Jake interrupted him. “Not
anyone with any actual knowledge or experience. As a prospective buyer I
picked up a copy of the information you put in your auction papers,
Darce.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“<i>Argh!</i>”
Darcy buried his face in his knees as Jake pulled several folded sheets
out of his pockets and unfurled them, turning them for Darcy to see. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“All these things you’re apparently experienced in? Hard limits…. Well not many, let’s put it that way. What were you doing?”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“How does Michael even know you?” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“He
was a friend of Philip’s, and he knew you were one of Philip’s boys.”
Jake said rather softly. “And he knew me as a relative of Philip’s. He
tracked me down through the family lawyers in Boston. And that’s not
what I asked you.” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I do not have to explain myself to you.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You’re
forgetting a few things here.” Jake folded his arms, looking down at
him. ““I bought you. I’ll remind you, for over five thousand dollars.
According to what you signed up to, which states your commitment to
being ‘pliant to my desires within your hard limits’, I get to do
whatever I want with you for the next seventy two hours. And unlike you
would have done with any other Top in that room, you know how I roll,
Darce. You know exactly how we all do, you’ve lived alongside it for
decades.” He waited a minute, letting that sink in before he went on in
that same, sweetly sinister tone. “And that means you know I carry a
paddle when Tom and I travel. As a matter of fact, I think the martinet
is probably in there too. So if I tell you to explain yourself, that’s
what you’re going to do.” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He
waited a long moment. Darcy stared at him, eyes huge. Jake looked right
back. As the family Tops went, he was not at all one of the stern ones,
or the ones Darcy was slightly careful to mind his manners around, in
spite of himself and of being known neutral territory. James was. Flynn
was. Kit was. But not Jake. And yet he sat there with that genial half
smile on his mouth and those glinting eyes, and he looked right now,
every inch one of them. </span><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Darcy
knew the script; he’d seen Gerry and the others begin right now what
Dale referred to as rabbit trailing, and which Dale could certainly do
with enough skill that a lot of the time many of the family missed
entirely that they had been managed. He’d also seen them called out for
it. In words of one syllable, often with a verbal or a practical
reminder as to what happened to those who tried what was, in fact, a
direct act of disrespect and treated as such if the Top in question
wasn’t feeling indulgent. Right now, Darcy didn’t think he’d get away
with it if he tried. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Instead,
and pathetically, he found himself putting his head down on his knees
and balling up, with a tone that had no business coming from a man of
his age, experience or sophistication. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I won’t. Leave me alone.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jake
unfolded his arms, removed the hot chocolate and stood the mug on the
side of the tub. Then his hand closed on Darcy’s arm, hoisting him part
way out of the water, and the swat that landed across his backside – it
was resounding on bare, wet skin, Jake’s hand was large and covered
plenty of ground, and Darcy’s mouth dropped open at how badly it stung.
Before he’d had time to process more than the sheer shock of <i>he did it! he swatted me</i>! Jake put him back in the water and stooped down to him, face close, voice very soft. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“That is the last warning I will give you. Do you understand me?” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He’d
heard it said so often it came without him having to consciously think
first, bursting out urgently, fast, with his heart thundering. “Yes
sir.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I am waiting.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He’d
never known Jake could be this scary. And there should have been a part
of him pointing out that he was sitting in the bath with a member of
the family a lot younger than he was, who he’d hung out with eating
chocolate in front of the fire and swapping bad jokes with at Christmas,
who he’d shared breakfast in pyjamas with, had known for decades. All
he knew at this moment was that Jake’s large hand was holding his arm,
painlessly but very firmly, and that to argue with him any further would
be a really terrible idea. And at that point he found the shaking get
right out of control and the tears spilled. There were a few seconds
where he balled up even tighter around himself and sobbed, and then
Jake’s arms wrapped around him and he was pulled far enough out of the
water to get his own arms around Jake’s neck. </span><br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> <br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
It took a while to calm down enough to drink the overly sweet hot
chocolate that Jake insisted on. It was around then that Darcy realised
Jake thought he was in shock. Wrapped in a hotel bathrobe and warm for
the first time in hours, he did not want to think about the possibility
that Jake might be right. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Where’s
your phone?” Jake asked him, hanging the tux back in its wrappings on
the rail. He’d changed back into his travel clothes; jeans, a shirt and
jacket, with the heavy boots he always wore that worked for climbing,
hiking or riding. It was the work clothes of home, and that didn’t help.
He’d almost been easier to take in the unfamiliar suit. Darcy wrapped
his arms tighter around himself. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“At my apartment.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Wallet? Keys?” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“The hotel are holding them for me. They did for all the subs in the auction.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Presumably you have proper clothes there too.” Jake surveyed him. “Where’s Luath this weekend?” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Out
of town, so you can’t dump me on him.” Darcy said bitterly. Jake took a
seat on the edge of the dressing table, crossing his long legs at the
ankle. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Out of town where?” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Dallas. He had a meeting in Dallas.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">And
would stay a few days with Wade while he was there. They both knew it.
Jake nodded and collected his rucksack off the floor. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Let’s go.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Where?” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Your apartment to start with. I want to see your phone.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You are <i>not </i>invading my privacy by-”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jake Looked at him. Darcy stopped and swallowed. “…. I can’t travel like this.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Looks like you’re going to have to.” Jake herded him off the bed and into the hallway, deaf to protests. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He
said nothing on the cab ride across the city, and he slipped the lock
on the apartment door in seconds, with the dispatch of an ex cop. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Spare keys.” He ordered as soon as they were inside. “And phone. Show me where they are.”</span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Bastard. </span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Darcy
thought it several more times, as he had done at being forced to walk
through his apartment building barefoot and in a bathrobe. The fact his
neighbours had frequently seen him in far less modest attire was neither
here nor there. Jake took a quick and very untactful look around the
apartment, followed him into his bedroom, accepted the keys Darcy took
out of the drawer, and held out a hand until Darcy unwillingly handed
him the phone on the nightstand. He could have taken it himself, it was
only a few steps away. He still waited and made Darcy unlock and hand it
over himself. Having watched many such acts of discipline enforced on
men he loved and was very close to, to the point of having quite an
extended academic understanding of it, he was still not at all prepared
for how it felt in person. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You
have no right to go through my phone,” he said uselessly at Jake,
feeling increasingly small and embarrassed as Jake scrolled directly
through his texts. Jake didn’t look up. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Put some clothes on. Something warm.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“It’s nearly eleven o clock at night, you’ve made this a truly horrible evening, I want to go to bed.” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jake
ignored that too. “So you didn’t let any of them know,” he said at
length. “According to this text this afternoon, Gerry and Niall believe
you to be heading out for a hot date with someone called ‘Rufio’. I’m
fairly sure I saw that movie.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Well I wasn’t going to explain it to them, was I?” Darcy said bitterly. Jake raised an eyebrow at him. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“That they wouldn’t understand, or they would have questions you wouldn’t have liked?” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“That they’d have gone running to their partners who’d have pulled the same Captain Saviour crap you’re pulling right now!” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Well
the fact you didn’t put them in that position is a plus.” Jake said
dryly, putting the phone away. “Because if I’d found that any of them
had knew and hadn’t done something about it, it wouldn’t just be you
sitting uncomfortably tonight.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Did he mean that swat? Not daring to ask, Darcy hoped, seriously, that he only meant that swat. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jake indicated the closet. “Dress.” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Why?” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jake
leaned over and appropriated the clothes brush from the dresser,
weighting it thoughtfully in his hand. Darcy hurriedly opened the closet
and dressed as fast as possible in the plain shirt, jeans and sweater
Jake handed him. After which Jake put him in a jacket, locked up his
apartment and pocketed the keys, and took him downstairs. He went to the
edge of the pavement, raising a long arm to flag down a cab. Darcy dug
his hands in his pockets, shaking his head as a truly horrible suspicion
became a certainty. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“If you think we’re going where I think you think we’re going-”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“We’re
going to the airport.” Jake said bluntly as the cab pulled up. “Dale
isn’t the only one that can pull planes out of the sky when necessary.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I am <i>not</i> going there, you can’t make me!” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jake
leaned on the open cab door, giving him a very straight look. “Darce, I
am tired; Tom is in another state to me; and my patience is getting
really thin. If you want to try negotiating for a scene on the sidewalk
go for it, but it’s going to get you more than swatted.” </span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">*</span></p><p><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">The training of Tops is a Difficult Matter</span></i><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">It isn’t just one of your Holiday Games… </span></i><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"><br />
It had been one of Philip’s sayings, something Flynn had heard him
murmur, usually to make one or more of them smile in a difficult moment.
Up on the landing strip, Flynn folded his arms, leaning back against
the hood of the jeep as he watched the sky. Jake’s message had been
succinct, arriving via the house phone at a little after two am. </span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Houston, assume the position. 2.30am. </span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">It
had followed Tom, who had arrived that evening with few details but the
key ones. Jake had gone to New York to an emergency which appeared to
involve Darcy; he would decide once there what the best course of action
was. Clearly, Jake had felt it necessitated bringing Darcy here, and
with all speed instead of via a commercial flight. </span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">And Luath does not know. </span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Ash
and Gerry were close to Darcy. Bear and Theo. Niall and James. But it
was Jake who had received the message, dropped everything from the site
in Barbados where he and Tom were working, and immediately got on a
plane. Jake, who was one of the unlikeliest Tops in the family to be
pulled out to cover this kind of crisis. Which usually stemmed from the
more vocal members of their family, but there was no whisper from Gerry,
from Bear or Wade who were usually the most reliable sources of
anything bubbling up. And Luath, who knew Darcy closest and best, was
always the first to look after him. </span><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He always had been since the days when it had been Darcy and Roger permanently joined at the hip. </span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">The training of Tops is a difficult matter….</span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">It
was making him think of a night, about three years ago, when Jasper had
driven him through the darkness of the Teton forest where the trees
loomed thickly on either side, on his way to Jackson and the first
flight he could catch to New York where Luath and Dale were…. not doing
so well together. He’d been hearing Dale’s voice over and over again in
his head every mile of the way, his words from the phone call. </span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Luath
is being rather too nice about it. He asked me to take a rest this
afternoon, and I sneaked out and went for a run instead.” </span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">To
inexperienced ears, that would have sounded like the confession of a
remarkably well behaved brat with a penchant for honesty. To the ears of
the four of them to whom Dale belonged, that detached, dispassionate
tone might as well have come with an alarm siren. <i>I am sufficiently
desperate now to manipulate Luath and to break our rules to self
medicate in order to cope with this. I don’t know what else to do. </i></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">And
Luath was clearly not being of much help. They’d sat in silence around
the table for a few seconds after Paul ended the call; not a relaxed
silence either. Riley had said it first, bluntly and simply. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“That’s a scream for help.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Yes.
It was. Flynn looked at Paul, then across to Jasper’s dark eyes which
were thinking the same thing as he was. He put a hand over Riley’s to
squeeze it and got up. “I’m headed out there.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Good.” Riley said shortly. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“And we’ll tell Luthe what?” Paul asked him. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Nothing.” Flynn headed for the stairs. “There’s no need to worry either of them. I’ll turn up and we’ll take it from there.”</span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">And we’ll hope in the meantime Dale doesn’t get desperate enough to spin any further, because it sounds like he’s on his own.</span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">The
jeep’s headlights had picked out the frame of a deer in the road ahead
of them, head raised, antlers shadowed, looking towards them. Jasper had
slowed to a stop, waiting. The deer continued to survey them. </span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“How are you going to do this?”</span></i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"> Paul had asked as he’d watched Flynn pack. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">It
was a loaded question for all three of them who knew and loved Luath.
Flynn hadn’t answered, just putting an arm around Paul’s waist to kiss
him as he took his rucksack downstairs to where Jasper was waiting, coat
on and car keys in hand. To Riley, sitting on the arm of the sofa and
keeping Jasper company, it was no more complicated than: Go there. Be
there. As if his mere presence was the solution in itself. That Riley
saw him that way was something Flynn found deeply touching, but…</span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">It’s a bit more complicated than that, halfpint. </span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“The
training of Tops is a difficult matter.” Jasper quoted. Flynn looked at
him. Jasper gave him a wry smile that said he remembered too, and it
was on his mind as well tonight. Philip had trained the both of them. He
hadn’t trained Paul. Nobody trained Paul; Paul just did it by sheer
instinct and there wasn’t a Top in the family who didn’t get out of his
way when he did. Even Philip hadn’t been able to do anything with Paul.
Paul who was the one other of them who could get on a plane tonight and
go where Dale so clearly needed them; but with his customary generosity,
and Paul had a bottomless pit of it, he hadn’t so much as raised the
subject of which of them should go. He could certainly handle this
situation if he had to. Possibly better. But however tactfully this was
done, there was no way to do it that didn’t let an older, more
experienced family Top know he wasn’t doing a good job with a family
brat, to the point they were forced to step in and help. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“What’s
Luath doing?” Flynn demanded of Jasper, and he’d known on that night
that Jasper had no more answers than he did. “What’s the matter with
him?”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I guess you’ll find out.” Jasper said simply.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Ahead of them, the deer had apparently reached a decision and paced slowly across the road, disappearing into the forest. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">The
first lights of a plane coming in appeared in the sky. Flynn watched it
descend, following the landing strip lights he had switched on half an
hour ago. The same question was as strong in his mind tonight as it had
been on the road to Jackson three years ago. </span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">We have a vulnerable member of this family in a bad way, right on Luath’s turf. Where is he in all this? What is he doing? </span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">The plane touched down and taxied to a halt, and the door and steps released. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">It
would have been clear even to an inexperienced Top that the smaller of
the two men who came down the steps and across the grass did so under
protest. And that the larger was being less protectively tender with his
companion than moving in a style Flynn associated with <i>get your butt moving right now young man, if you plan on being able to sit on it</i>.
And he’d never seen Jake pull that one before. Once they were close
enough to see faces, Darcy looked furiously, miserably angry. Jake
looked like Jake; laid back, relaxed, except for the eyes that met
Flynn’s and swapped a few succinct messages. Taking note of them, Flynn
offered a hug to Darcy who very uncharacteristically stepped away and
dug his hands in his pockets. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I am not here on a social visit.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“It’s
kidnapping.” Jake said to Flynn, opening the jeep door. “With menaces.
But it’s all legal, I’ve got the contract. There’s a whole section about
fantasy scenarios.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I hate you so much Jacob Forbes!” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">That
was quite a spit, and more fury behind it than Flynn had ever heard
from Darcy, although he got into the jeep. That was something to be
grateful for; Gerry or Riley would have been either sitting on the grass
and refusing to move, or stalking off into the distance by now. The
energy in the venom was reassuring too; any family member that good and
mad, as well as walking under their own steam, was not in that bad a
way. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">The lights were on downstairs in the house as Flynn drove in through the open garage door. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“They’re all up, aren’t they?” Darcy demanded with loathing, and to Flynn’s ear the tone was getting increasingly brittle. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Jasper and Paul are, yes.” Flynn said levelly. “They were worried about you. Dale and Riley are in bed and asleep,”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“If you believe that you’ll believe anything.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“And
Tom was reading in his room when I last saw him.” Flynn caught Jake’s
eye in the rear view mirror since Jake had, without comment, got into
the back beside Darcy. “They won’t come downstairs until breakfast, as
they have been told not to.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Or at least, in Tom’s case, he wouldn’t come down via the stairs until breakfast. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’m
staying here.” Darcy informed the jeep roof. Jake opened the door and
waited. He got a look of utter loathing, but Darcy nevertheless slid out
and stalked ahead of them into the kitchen. Paul immediately got up
from the table with his arms open. For the first time in Flynn’s memory,
Darcy ignored him and walked the other way around the table. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“We’re
in the middle of a really lovely paddy,” Jake said cheerfully to Paul,
going to hug him instead. “It’s somewhat better than the state of shock I
found him in around ten pm this evening. He’s still shaky, he’s doing
his best to hide it, but he could use a hot drink and something sweet.
Darce, put your butt in a chair. Now.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Looking still more furious, Darcy yanked out a chair and sat. Paul met Flynn’s eyes over the table and raised his eyebrows in a <i>what the….?</i> Flynn shook his head slightly in reply. <i>No idea. Waiting</i>. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Hi.”
Jasper said quietly to Darcy. Darcy looked down at his hands and didn’t
answer, and that was the confirmation of how bad this was; Flynn had
never seen Darcy not respond to Jasper. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Does
anyone want to explain please what on earth is going on?” Paul said
rather crisply for Paul. Jake reached into his pocket. Darcy buried his
face in his hands, cringing. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You’re
going to utterly humiliate me in front of them too, and it’s none of
any of your business! None at all! I don’t belong to any of you,”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Utter nonsense, of course you do.” Paul said definitely. “Stop shouting, before you wake the others. What is this about?” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Having
seen Paul handle a number of their more challenging older brats like
this, in the same way he’d done when he lived with them years before
Flynn ever came to this house, Flynn let him get on with it and moved
quietly around the table to put milk, honey and cinnamon in a pan. He
had an eye on Darcy as he did so; the angle of his shoulders, what his
hands were doing, what his breathing was doing. Jake put the papers
where Paul could see them and Darcy more or less put his arms over his
head. Jasper came to stand behind him, resting his hands on Darcy’s
shoulders and rubbing very slightly as he looked with Paul. Paul turned
over one sheet, frowning in what looked to Flynn like growing
bewilderment. Jasper glanced at Flynn with a faint signal of eyes and
shoulders that said he had no idea what he was looking at. It was
apparent that Paul did; he turned over the third sheet and then reached
over to pull Darcy’s hands down. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Darcy look at me right now. Is this what I think it is? How much of what is on these sheets is you? Honestly?” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Darcy
didn’t answer. Jake leaned on the table on one hip, arms folded. He was
quite intentionally looming over Darcy; something Flynn had never seen
him do, but had seen plenty of other Tops use with a brat they were
communicating to. “According to the guy in charge, none at all. I got a
call yesterday when he managed to track me down to say he had a ringer
in this event, a guy he liked and had no wish at all to embarrass, and
could not see how to get him out of the corner he’d painted himself
into.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“How far did it go?” Paul demanded. Jake shrugged.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“All the way. I bought him on an auction block around ten pm this evening.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Jacob go <i>away!</i>” Darcy erupted to his feet, scarlet and near to tears. “I’m going to bed, you can talk about me all you want!”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I
have not told you to go anywhere.” Jake signalled at the chair with one
finger and he hadn’t got off the table but he’d straightened enough to
make his height and the breadth of his shoulders clear. Flynn did the
same thing with Dale sometimes, mostly in reply when Dale unconsciously
did it to him, programmed from years of using body language to manage
difficult clients. <i>Bigger than you are, kid. Stand down, or you won’t like what happens next.</i> </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Darcy
growled at him, a sound of sheer, mortified fury. “You got me here, in
the middle of nowhere, surrounded by people you can tell all about it,
what more do you want?” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I am getting really tired of the dramatics,” Paul pointed out. Jake shook his head at Darcy. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’ll
tell you what I’ll ensure. You won’t find the car keys tonight, nor get
near the computer, and whichever room you plan to sleep in I will be
sharing it with you. Sit. Down.” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He didn’t raise his voice in the slightest. He didn’t need to. Tears started to fall, but Darcy sat. Hard. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Right
now I plan to leave you alone like I plan to come to breakfast wearing
whatever the hell it was you were modelling tonight.” Jake went on. “I’d
remind you you’re sitting here because this is where I chose for you to
be. Which is exactly what you signed up to. Neither you nor I have any
idea where any other buyer might have chosen for you to be. Or what
they’d intend to do. Or how you planned to cope with it, or what you
intended to do when it went wrong. So however much you want to shout at
me right now, however much you don’t like having this conversation, you
are having it in a safe place, with people who love you, who will make
damn sure that you don’t come to any harm.” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Other than stamp all over my privacy and my independence.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“In
about the same way I’d stamp all over your privacy and independence to
jump off a bridge.” Jake said flatly. “Yep. We’re on the same page.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Honey,
if any of this form is true tell me.” Paul said a lot more gently. “If
you were doing this for fun because you wanted to, and you had all the
experience you’ve listed here then we’d gladly hold your coat and say go
enjoy yourself. <i>Is</i> Jake wrong? And this organiser, whoever he is?” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Or
are we,” Jake added, “talking about a form that’s three pages of lies
and wishful thinking, and would have put you as a complete novice in the
hands of someone who had every reason to believe they were playing with
an experienced, and fairly extreme end sub, who knew exactly what they
were doing?”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">It was brutal, but it needed saying. Jake shook his head in the silence that followed. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You’ve
lived in this house and been part of this family for how long? You know
exactly how we run and what consent looks like. You were part of it
when Riley had to talk and talk for days to convince them he knew what
he was getting into. You saw how hard they made Dale work, and wait and
think, and he was an experienced, grown adult. You have these friends,
you go to these places, you know all this, you’re not this naïve. So
what the hell were you thinking? What did you think would happen when
the poor sap playing with you had to tell you they’d seen through you?
Or worse, pick up the pieces of a screaming or terrified sub and feel
responsible? How did you think they’d feel?”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“It would not have been that bad!”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jake
tapped a finger on the paper on the table. “Plugs. Whips. Fire play.
Fisting. Tom searched that thing and only calmed down when he found
breath play was explicitly banned, otherwise it would have been him who
came and got you and you’d have never got near the stage tonight.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“He’s got nothing to do with this and you have no right getting judgy about-”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You
are not talking about what you choose to experiment with in the hands
of a trusted partner,” Jake said and his voice dropped half a semitone,
getting no louder but considerably icier, “You are not even talking
about a well supervised event with monitors to ensure safe play. You are
talking about a total stranger, alone in a hotel suite. And Tom is the
one of us here who does have an idea of what he’s talking about and <i>is </i>experienced,
and he was horrified, Darce. Horrified and furious. As he said, thank
God for Morrison and his team that they saw and wouldn’t let it happen. I
suppose you didn’t think either about what it would do to their and the
event’s reputation if you had managed to fool them and it went wrong?
These situations run on trust and honesty, being able to absolutely
trust in the honesty of the others you are with, and you know that
because you have always lived it here with us. So I’m back to what were
you thinking?”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Darcy
stared down at the table. Flynn poured the now steaming milk into mugs,
putting one in Darcy’s reach and sharing out the others. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’m tired.” Darcy said eventually. “It’s the middle of the night, I want to go to bed.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“And
I say I own your time right now, so you’re not going anywhere to get
out of this conversation.” Jake sipped milk, staying right where he was
on the table. “I’ve got all night.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Honey,
can you see how dangerous this looks to us?” Paul asked him. Never
above a bit of good cop bad cop to get an upset brat talking, his soft
tone was a considerable contrast to Jake’s. “It looks down to the point
of self harm. If I’m wrong about that you need to tell me, because I’m
getting pretty worried here.” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“It
is not self harm.” Darcy muttered at the table. The tone was holding
Flynn’s attention. Darcy was tired, he was fraught, all the shields were
right up, but this was the kind of grumbling whine typical of some of
their brats in the grip of avoiding emotion, and it was very unlike
Darcy. Anything less than self-possessed, perceptive and emotionally
controlled was very unlike Darcy. But then to Flynn’s memory he’d never
seen Darcy on the end of an interrogation like this before. If Darcy was
involved in some mischief or mess with the brats of this household then
he did mostly maintain as much neutrality as was possible. He respected
both sides of the situation, he walked the line usually with a great
deal of care and awareness for it, and they all respected his position.
The most Flynn had ever seen him receive was a telling off, which he
usually responded to with amused but honest apology. He was therefore
always on the fringe of a scene like this; never on the receiving end.
His response to it was interesting. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jake glanced up, still drinking milk, and Flynn read his question. </span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Are you seeing this? </span></i><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">I’m seeing it.</span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Across the table, Jasper’s eyes were thoughtful. Not communicating anything, he wasn’t sure yet, but he’d seen it too. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Then what did you want to happen?” Paul said patiently. Darcy shrugged, still staring down at the table. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I don’t know.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Sit
up, look at us, stop the shrugging and answer respectfully when you’re
spoken to.” Jake said bluntly. “You know the expectations around here,
and right now you’ve signed up to them with me. For seventy two hours
there is no such place as Switzerland.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He
did sit up. And he lifted his eyes, swiftly and Flynn thought very
nervously, looking to Jake first although then to Paul who was currently
the most sympathetic around the table. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“There isn’t anything I can say. I can’t explain it.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Did
you want to be hurt?” Flynn said mildly. Darcy put his head down on his
hands. The lack of reply…. Well there was no attempt at denial there.
Paul looked up at Flynn, and the concern was clear in his face. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Right.”
Jake said, finishing his drink. “We’ve got that far, at least that’s an
answer we can start with. We’ll take James and Niall’s room, let’s go.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You’re not seriously…” Darcy mumbled. Jake waited pointedly, looking at the mug on the table. Darcy picked it up and drank it. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’m
serious.” Jake told him when the milk was gone. “Get the sheets from
the linen closet, make up the bed, I’ll be there in a minute.” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’ll
help you hon.” Paul said quietly, and went with Darcy upstairs. Jake
waited, listening until the footfall was out of earshot before he got
off the table and collected up the mugs. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“The
instincts,” he said, rinsing them under the tap, “Are getting stronger
all the time to push this to a catharsis, turn him over my knee and
absolve it. And then we might move on and get to what’s got him into
this state, and how long it’s been coming.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I agree he’s asking for it.” Jasper said reflectively. “Repeatedly.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’ve
been badly tempted ever since I hauled him out of the hotel,” Jake said
unequivocally, “I did swat him. I only had to do it once to get him
convinced I meant it, but so far I’ve threatened him more times than I’d
expect to get away with without an action demonstration if it was any
other brat of ours. But it’s working. Which makes me even more inclined
to grab a paddle and spank his behind until I’m certain he never does
anything like this again, because it reaffirms to me just how bloody
inexperienced and easily frightened he is, and how bad this could have
gotten. What I don’t know is how much he’s asking for it right now
because it’s a part of whatever’s going on, or how much it’s with an
intentional, genuine idea of what he’s asking for.” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You’re doing a good job playing the part,” Flynn informed him. Jake gave him a slightly wolfish grin. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I
don’t usually have to pull this out for anyone but your brat. We got to
tears when I swatted him, but he didn’t get that much release. He could
use a lot more. Keys?” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jasper took the ones from the hook by the door. “I’ll lock up and keep them with me.” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Flynn
tossed Jasper the ones from the jeep. “The phone’s in our room, I’ll
keep it there, and the office is locked. You’re the one who’s worked in
security; anything else you want done?”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Other
than be physically in his way tonight?” Jake shook his head. “You’re
set up for this with clients anyway. My usual security system is to set
up everything I can think of and then get Tom to destruction test it. He
finds any cracks in the system in minutes, but I don’t think Darce has
anything like his experience, and this is less about any real concern
he’s not safe than making it very clear I’m all over him. If he’s
determined he wants something like this, then I’ve got it covered and
I’d rather he took whatever it is he wants from one of us than a
stranger.” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He’d
been the one called out to New York to deal with one of theirs, a
family member without a partner, and moreover, it was Darcy. Not a brat,
and yet not exactly not either, and to the protective members of their
group, he was very much counted as one of the vulnerable ones. <i>My responsibility, my job to do.</i>
Flynn understood it. He would have felt the same way, and Jake had a
partner who was probably one of the most likely to understand. Tom had
strong instincts himself for a soul in need. And Jake knew too, as they
all did, he wasn’t one of the family members Darcy already had any sort
of understanding with; he wasn’t one of the ones he teased or liked to
play with as he did with the ones he was closest to. As a Top, Jake was
one of the most unknown quantities to Darcy, which was quite possibly
helping. </span><br /><br /><br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
Riley was sound asleep when Flynn checked on him, arms folded under his
pillow, shoulders relaxed. Dale wasn’t. With all this going on in the
house, he would be no more able than Tom to let go, although in Dale’s
case much of it would be to do with an inability to let it be someone
else’s problem. He wasn’t trying to fake it either, although he was
obediently in bed, with all the self control necessary not to put the
light on or come any closer to listen. He must have heard the movement
on the landing. Flynn undressed, hearing Paul go quietly down the hall
to his room, which he would not have done if he was not satisfied Jake
and Darcy had everything they needed. Tom was sprawled on the covers of
his bed in the room he usually shared with Jake when they stayed; not
undressed but to Flynn’s eye when Flynn checked in on him, much the same
as Tom usually was in the early hours of the morning. He was slightly
exasperated with Darcy and more than slightly concerned from what they
knew so far, but that was all. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“How
is he?” Dale asked quietly when Flynn slid under the covers. Flynn
stretched out and reached for him, pulling Dale over into his side. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Too early to say. He’s here, he’s physically ok, and Jake’s staying in his room with him. Get some sleep.” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Tom thought at Christmas he wasn’t looking too good.”</span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Which
you checked on, and I checked on and we all checked on, Jas included.
Luath thought he was a little overworked, but hadn’t seen anything to
worry about and he sees Darcy the most. Most days. </span></i><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Luthe, why don’t you know anything about this? </span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He
had dozens of memories of Luath with Roger and with Darcy since Roger
and Darcy were always together. Both of them easy going, happy go lucky
men who enjoyed each other’s company and anyone else’s who was around,
neither of them given to angst or drama, although they were patiently
tolerant of it in other family brats. Whatever they did they always had a
good time. They were an unlikely pair in a lot of ways, Roger had been
very ordinary looking, shy and on the quiet side and a lover of his
home, his family and family life. Nothing like Darcy’s exoticism,
vivacity and enjoyment of the highlife, the best clubs, the strangest
fashions, the endless range of questionable boyfriends.</span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">We’ve
always known he liked talking that up and that at least some of it was
exaggeration. Wade’s come straight out with it a few times when he’s
annoyed enough, that he thinks more than half of these wild boyfriends
are mythical. The clubs aren’t; or at least weren’t. I remember Philip
getting quite firm about some of the ones he went into and the company
he kept, but that was more than twenty years ago. How much has this just
become an illusory habit he shows us because we expect it?</span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Luath
probably knew the most of any of them, but he was discreet, his loyalty
was with Darcy and he wasn’t saying. It had been Darcy first and
foremost who had got Luath through the loss of Roger. Darcy who had more
or less lived at the apartment with him, although he’d always been in
and out constantly when Roger was alive. It was more than half his home
and always had been. He and Roger and Luath were too close for it not to
be. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">So
long as Darcy was happy, his career going well and his personal life as
private as he wanted but satisfying him, they weren’t going to intrude.
Darcy was in many ways a private person, a watcher on the edge of
things where he was comfortable. But this wasn’t happy and it wasn’t ok,
and that was when questions had to be asked. </span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Luthe, you see him the most, why haven’t you seen this? </span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He’d
had to explore that before; on that morning three years ago that he’d
arrived at Luath’s apartment in New York, deeply sympathetic and aware
that this was difficult for him, but with the same essential question in
mind. </span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">We
warned you. You knew Dale was a complicated brat, and you had to be
alert. You’re good at this. Why didn’t you see he was struggling?</span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">With
Dale, there had been reasons, specific buttons that he hit in Luath.
But Flynn was not ever going to forget looking through the glass pane of
the office in the ANZ building in New York and seeing Dale at that
table. Self possessed, wholly engaged in what he was doing, doing it
perfectly. And exhausted. Numbed. All that ridiculous contrast of power
and intelligence and command while, if you had the eyes to see deeper,
looking like a lost little boy. It had turned his heart over. Almost as
much as had the control with which Dale had, without an expression in
his face walked him so courteously down the hall to an office and once
the door was closed, thrown himself into Flynn’s arms so hard Flynn
could still feel the crush of him hours later. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Dale
hit those same reflexes hard in Paul. Jasper. Jake. James. Ash. In fact
pretty much every Top in the family, he quite unconsciously triggered
the lot of them just by sitting quietly in the same room; Flynn saw him
do it. But it had taken Dale in brat terms putting a bomb under Luath by
heading out, in the night, to the one specific place Luath had told him
not to go in blatant disregard of pretty much everything, before he
managed to rouse those instincts in him. They’d been awake all right
when he’d driven Luath to turning him over his knee in the park and
impressing on him who exactly made the rules, and they’d been wide awake
in that office. While Flynn had been focused on pushing as many buttons
in Dale as fast as possible, the tones and the words that pulled his
head into the right place and made him feel safe, grounded and able to
let go at least some of what he was carrying, Luath had been tag teaming
him in that lecture and letting off a whole lot of steam. He knew all
the words too, when pushed to it, and he knew exactly how to use them.
Expert, effective Top. </span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Possibly we should have left Dale with him for another few days. And added Gerry, Ri and Wade. </span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">It
was a dry thought and not in any way a serious one, not least because
to leave Dale with a Top who was not wholly on it at a time when Dale
really needed to be able to rely on a good Top wholly on it, was
something all four of them strongly agreed was not going to happen
again. Since that incident, if Dale was working away from the ranch one
of them went with him. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">There were particular reasons why Luath had had a blind spot with Dale at the time. And yet….</span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">I’m making excuses for him. </span></i><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“It may be that he doesn’t want to, and he won’t again.” </span></i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Paul had said at the time.<i>
“You think of him as that Top you knew and admired and learned from,
but if that isn’t who he is any more, then I can understand. Losing
Roger may have ended that for him. We don’t know. He might not know.”</i></span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“But when he’s here with us, it’s there. Not that strongly, but it’s there.”</span></i><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“In
a familiar place, with people he knows very well and has the habit
with, yes. We live it, Flynn. All the time. Luthe doesn’t any more, and
he may not want to.”</span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Raised
as a young Top himself in this household, Flynn knew he’d learned
partly through being part of a household where you couldn’t help but
pick up on the expectations, the duties, the responsibilities set by
Philip who was a quiet and gentle expert in the art. But mostly through
seeing it modelled by older, experienced Tops who took the time to share
their experience, their insights and what they’d learned through the
inevitable trial and error with their partners, and through living in
this house where brats were a constant part of their every day. If you
had the instincts, you couldn’t live around them or without becoming
involved, and as they became your friends, your loved ones, you became
even more involved. Luath had learned the same way he had. And it had
been Luath who had been part of the older generation who modelled and
talked to and encouraged the young family Tops, from clumsy inexperience
onwards. It was partly down to him that Jake knew so very exactly how
to sit on the table tonight and use a tone and words he would never need
to use with his own brat, and to be committed enough to a brat in
trouble to insist on sleeping in his room. And it had been a couple of
Christmases ago that Luath had dropped everything and gone to Paris to
support Darcy in the midst of a brat texting fight and come to be with
him to sort it out. Those weren’t the actions of a man who’d stopped
feeling any pull towards his Top instincts. </span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">So
how much is he hiding from you Luthe? Because unless you’re trying
very, very hard not to see, I don’t think you do or could ignore those
instincts where you see a problem. Especially with Darcy. </span></i><br /> <br /> <br /> </span><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Darcy might be
borrowing freely from Gerry’s chosen epithets and ‘I hate you’s at the
moment – Ash had largely broken Gerry of that but he still came out with
it without thinking at times – but his body said something else
entirely. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jake,
in t shirt and shorts under the covers in one of the largest beds in
the house, would have given Darcy all the room and privacy he wanted.
The light had been out barely a minute when Darcy turned over and buried
himself in Jake’s side. Jake wrapped his arms around him, rubbing his
back under the weight of the blankets, and saying nothing. It was for
Darcy to talk if he wanted to, or just to take what comfort he needed;
they’d been friends a very long time and Darcy knew that always came
with no strings attached. The older man felt slight in his arms tonight.
Darcy had always been lithe and lightly built. Which made Jake think
again how easily overpowered. Easily broken. </span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">I still, seriously, want to turn you over my knee and turn your butt five kinds of red. </span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Darcy
was asleep around dawn when Tom paused in the half open doorway,
dressed for a run. He looked shaggy, unshaven and Jake read the bleak
concern in the silent nod at Darcy. </span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He ok? </span></i><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">So far. You? </span></i><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Going out. Watch him. </span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jake blew him a kiss, got a raised eyebrow and a <i>get a grip</i>
look in return, and Tom left. Quite possibly through a window; locked
doors were not going to present much of an obstacle to him on his way in
or out. He’d more or less had steam coming out of his ears reading
Darcy’s auction documents. The kind of silent, tight angry that Jake
associated with him being really, seriously mad. Although the first
thing he’d said was a short, “I knew he wasn’t ok at Christmas. Bright
and brittle and glitzy, and slumping the minute he thought no one was
looking.” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“What
do you think this is about?” Jake had asked him, aware Tom had far more
knowledge than he did from several years hanging around scenes like
this auction. Tom had grunted and said much what Flynn had last night. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Well
you don’t do something this naiively insane without some part of you
wanting to get hurt. Although this is a rather different of achieving it
to many other ways, and that’s worth thinking about. He’s always struck
me as a rational adult. Doing something this nuts, this impulsive… that
worries me.”</span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Me too. </span></i><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">I
know there was a time there were parts of his social life that Philip
warned him back from. But I’d have always trusted Darcy to know what he
was doing, and to be enjoying himself instead of taking mad risks. World
wisdom and common sense, he’s always had plenty of both. I’ve seen him
rein Gerry and the others in many times. He often kept Roger out of
trouble, and that took a lot of work. </span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">When
he heard Paul start downstairs, shortly after five, he eased gently
away from Darcy, settled the covers more closely over him and left him
sleeping. Paul looked more awake than anyone had a right to at not yet
six in the morning, particularly after being up half the night. He
kissed Jake on his way past to the fridge. A teapot and mugs were
already on the table. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Did he sleep?” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Yes. Fairly quickly and he’s well away now. I won’t wake him for a while yet.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’ve
been fighting the urge to call Gerry and Bear and Wade and Niall and
Miguel and that’s just my short list, and demand to know if any of them
know anything we should.” Paul shut the fridge with his hip and filled
the milk jug, adding it to the table. “Except I don’t want to spread
this around any further unless we absolutely have to. Darcy’s
embarrassed enough that we know.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I
went through his phone before we left New York, there was nothing on it
in email or text that suggested anyone knew anything, or there’s been
any kind of fight that’s set him off.” Jake heeled out a chair and sat
down. “As far as Gerry’s concerned, Darcy had a date last night, and
that’s all. Luath sent a brief hi from Texas, a picture of him and Wade,
he asked how ‘the show’ was going and Darce had said a lot of breezy
stuff back about waiters. I don’t think Luthe had any idea it was a BDSM
event.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Darcy did the event planning for it?” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“He’d
been involved for a couple of weeks, the past week setting it all up
and working with the organisers. Which is how, thank God, they realised
the problem. Morrison’s a good Top, he did this as gently and with as
much care for Darce as he could. He very tactfully sounded me out on how
much I knew of Philip’s private life, and I could hear the relief when
he realised not only did I know Philip was a Top but so was I, and he
could speak plainly.” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“And the apartment looked ok?” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Yes,
Paul would think of that. With the confidence of a history in security
work and policing that made a swift, on the spot mental health
assessment a familiar habit to pull out as needed, Jake gave him a nod
of reassurance. “I checked. Tidy, bed made, fridge full, he’s been
taking care of himself.” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“So
we’re down to nothing at all unless he chooses to tell us.” Paul pulled
out a seat beside Jake, waiting for the kettle to boil. “We didn’t get
too far last night.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I
haven’t yet pulled out the big guns, and I will if necessary.” Jake
said shortly. “He’s not a novice in this household, he knows how we
work.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“We don’t exactly have his consent for that.” Paul reminded him. Jake shook his head. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Right now, I do. I think what he could use is a good dose of hard bastard.” </span><br /><br /><br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
Waking up was a fairly horrible experience. For a moment there was just
the warmth of bedding, the faint and very familiar baa of sheep in the
distance and a feeling of not having had nearly enough sleep. And then
the memory of yesterday hit like a brick and it took everything Darcy
had not to crawl under the covers and hide. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">The <i>how dare he!</i> was still strong. The utter mortification of seeing Jake standing there, of being dragged back here and everyone being told…. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">And it covered an even nastier little voice of relief that the worst hadn’t happened. That this morning he was here and not-</span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Well you wouldn’t be in a hotel room with a stranger right now, would you? </span></i><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">By
late last night you’d have been in tears one way or another with
someone either very angry or having to pick up the pieces, who was owed
about six thousand dollars.</span></i><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">If it was someone responsible. </span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Otherwise it could truly have been a whole lot worse. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He
had totally humiliated himself in front of Morrison, a man he liked.
He’d had no idea that Morrison had known Philip. And he’d never, in his
worst nightmares, ever thought anyone in the family would ever find out
about this. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Getting
back under the covers and hoping, desperately, that all of this might
somehow just go away, seemed like about the only plan. </span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">They must think you’ve gone out of your mind. </span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">They could be right. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He
was still trying to find the courage to let the covers go when Jake
pushed the door open, shaved, dressed, large and matter of fact.
“Breakfast. Let’s go.”</span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">I seriously can’t. Not this morning. </span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You’re
keeping up the whole Captain Universe thing then?” Darcy muttered at
him, making it to the edge of the bed. Jake came quite unhurriedly but </span><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Darcy’s heart still lurched and he couldn’t help shrinking back.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Keeping
to the contract. Yes. You don’t seem to have clicked on this, Darce.
You signed one with me last night, and it stands for another sixty hours
yet. You wanted a Top, you’ve got a Top. No white card, and no hard
limits other than you stated on the form you gave me. So get out of bed,
put those clothes on, I don’t let brats hang around in bed all day or
skip breakfast. Move it.” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“This is not a game!” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’m so pleased you realise that.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You
don’t get to pull this crap on me Jacob!” Darcy, despite himself,
rolled off the other side of the bed to get away from him. “I’m not
playing around with you, I’m not Gerry or Tom, you’re not going to teach
me any kind of lesson,”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Watch me.” Jake said flatly. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Darcy
stared at him in utter frustration, watching him fold his arms over his
chest in a way that made his biceps rise, and seeing the grimness in
Jake’s blue eyes levelled directly on him. For years he’d been watching
men he loved do that with their partners or with other brats in the
household. Sometimes they teased him with it. Sometimes he teased them a
little and they knew on both sides it was a game with limits; something
friendly and done in fun. Even Philip, whose lines were a little less
easy to play with, and whom Darcy had never quite lost the genuine
suspicion that pushed far enough, he might quite easily do what he
threatened to and so treated him quite a bit more carefully, had been
mostly joking. When necessary, the real Top guns they tended to pull on
him was the coaxing and reasoning parts. That he’d had his fair share of
over the years. And he’d laugh it off, he’d flirt or tease them. </span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Darling, I’m Switzerland. Go and play that game somewhere else. </span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">But
this was the first time ever that one of them had looked at him like
that and Darcy had believed, down to his toes, that they meant it.
Particularly after Jake had hauled him up out of the bath last night and
swatted. There had been nothing fun or joking about that swat, it had
been hard and it had damn well hurt, and he had years of experience that
Jake, just like the rest of them, was wholly capable of doing every
single thing he was threatening and a whole lot more. He’d seen them do
it. Often. He’d spent several decades living in a household of wolves.
Just with a <i>not your little red riding hood</i> exemption card. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He muttered something obscene – very, very quietly – and got dressed. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">There
were the sounds of a family breakfast time going on in the kitchen.
Darcy’s knees pretty much froze as he heard them; he did not want to be
in that room this morning – and then Jake steered him instead to the
study and Darcy discovered that no, the idea of the kitchen by
comparison really wasn’t that bad. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jake
shut the study door behind them. A glass of milk and several rounds of
buttered toast were waiting on David’s desk, alongside a highly ominous
stack of lined paper and a pencil. For some reason the pencil was even
more annoying than all the rest of it. Jake walked him around to the
chair. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Take
a seat. Eat your breakfast, have a good hard think about how you want
the next hour to go, and then I want a written explanation of what your
intentions were when you got yourself put on that auction block last
night.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I will refund you the damn money!” Darcy said in desperation. “I will pay you back every wretched cent,”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Nope,
I think the contract’s very good value. I’m quite happy with it.” Jake
took a seat on the edge of Philip’s desk, folding his arms again. “Do
carry on.”</span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">And if I tell you to get stuffed? </span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">In
all honesty Darcy did not dare to say it. That kind of answer was easy
to give in your head or in a friendly game of make believe. Not when you
had a Top sitting right there, looking right at you in an extremely <i>if you want to play so can I</i>
kind of way. He found his respect for Riley, for Dale and Wade who did
at times come out with those kind of responses in this situation
exponentially growing. None of them had a get out of jail card, or
wanted it. </span><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jake raised an eyebrow at him, giving him a lazy smile that was deeply sinister. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“What’ll
I do if you say what I can see you’d love to? Well there’s a corner
over there. You’ll be making its acquaintance anyway this morning, but
we can start there if you like until you feel ready to write.” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Argh.
Pushed to the brink Darcy found himself nearly stamping in frustration.
“For pete’s sake Jacob, I am not standing in a corner!” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Plugs
and bullwhips are fine but you’ve got a hard limit on corners?” Jake’s
smile deepened. Darcy swore at him and dropped down in David’s chair. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Ok, ok, ok! Stop talking like that.” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Like what?” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Like you know what you’re talking about.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jake’s eyebrow raised further with amusement. “I’d start writing if I were you.” </span><br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> <br /> <br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
How the others managed to do this was beyond Darcy; twenty minutes
later he was still staring at a blank sheet of paper. And Jake was still
sitting there as if he meant to go on sitting there forever. </span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">I remember Flynn standing in that corner for hours. And hours. Locked in combat with Philip and refusing to give in. </span></i><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Because Flynn is about as naturally submissive as an armour-plated bulldozer. </span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Need an incentive to get started, Darce?” Jake asked gently. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Not the kind you’ve got in mind.” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Oh
it’s pretty effective.” Jake shifted his long legs into a more
comfortable position, continuing to watch him in that supremely
disturbing way. “And it makes the point that doing it isn’t optional.
You could start with what was going through your head when you filled
out that form.”</span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Not over my dead body. </span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Darcy thought it, and knew as soon as he did that it had crossed his face, as Jake nodded. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“And
there it is. You do know; you just don’t intend to give up that control
yet. For an ‘experienced submissive’ that’s a whole lot of optimism.
Ok, let the games begin.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You do <i>not </i>have my consent.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“But
I do. In writing. Next time you may want to negotiate your boundaries a
little more carefully first. You know how wilful refusal to communicate
works, I’ve seen you warn Roger and the others about it plenty of
times.” Jake leaned down to the desk and opened the bottom drawer. Darcy
froze in his chair at the sight of the lexan paddle he pulled out. He’d
seen it before; it had never looked so big, or so heavy or so utterly
terrifying as it did right now in Jake’s hand. His throat closed, he was
sweating, his hands were shaking and his knees were starting to, and
when Jake reached for him he found himself out of the chair and backing
away from him, near to absolute panic. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“<i>Jake!</i> You won’t! I know you won’t!”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You
don’t, in fact.” Jake pointed out, following him with that paddle in
hand. “You only know I haven’t up to this point. What you <i>do</i>
know,” and he caught Darcy’s arm, jerking him briskly off balance. Darcy
fell, hard into his chest, felt Jake’s arms lock around him and hold
tightly enough to suppress the shaking, and Jake’s voice went on in his
ear, “is that you trust me to respect your boundaries and keep you safe,
and you are right. I don’t have your consent, and I certainly don’t
have any belief you know or want what you’re getting into. Darce, look
at yourself. You’re not finding the slightest thrill in this. You’re
petrified, and that’s knowing me and knowing the worst anyone’s ever had
in this room, the absolute worst, was a sound spanking. What the hell
would you have done last night if I hadn’t been there?” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I
don’t know.” Darcy found himself clinging to Jake and the tears came
out in a flood this time, part with relief, part with shock as it really
dawned on him. “I don’t know.” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“What
were you wanting?” Jake’s voice was still demanding in his ear, much as
his arms were comforting. “I can’t believe you’d struggle to find
someone in that group who’d be delighted to help a novice explore if
that’s what you were after; you’d be fighting off Doms with a stick.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“The
auction.” Darcy drew a breath with difficulty, aware his voice was
wobbling horribly. “It was a fundraiser. They lost a long term member of
their group in the towers.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“<i>That</i>
was what you were doing?” Jake sounded shocked. And then Darcy felt him
shake his head. “Darcy. There’s other ways to raise money, there’s
other ways to support them, you don’t have to literally give them your
blood,”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“This
is something I get. At least partly.” Darcy said bitterly. “I’ve lived
here long enough to understand, I’ve been a part of it for decades, it
seemed… this is something I could actually do to help,”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“If
you tried hard enough. And if you hurt yourself and scare yourself
enough you’ll do what?” Jake demanded. “Have made a big enough sacrifice
to atone to Rog? Make up the score sheet that you’re here and he
isn’t?” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I just….. wanted to help.” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">It
sounded as lame as it was impossible to express. Not the crushing
weight of emotion behind it, not the huge muddle of thoughts that came
with it. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You
have been tempting me ever since I got Morrison’s call, and I have
honestly never been closer to putting you over my knee,” Jake informed
him. “Although for your information, if you ever do successfully push me
to it, it won’t be with a paddle in my hand. Go get me the phone. Now.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Darcy
didn’t dare ask him for what. The kitchen thankfully was now clear of
anyone but Paul, washing dishes. Tears still flowing, Darcy went slowly
to the cupboard where the hidden compartment held the house phone. Jake
had followed him, he waited with hands on his hips until Darcy made it
even more slowly back to him, then he took a seat at the table, took a
firm hold on Darcy’s hand and dialled from memory. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Luthe? It’s Jake.” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“<i>Don’t</i> <i>do that to him!</i>”
Darcy began in a strangled sound of utter horror, but Jake held on to
his hand, taking no notice whatsoever. “I’m at the ranch, I’ve got Darcy
with me. Whatever you’re doing, trust me, you need to put it down and
get over here right now. No. We’ve got him and he’s safe but he’s not
all right. Ok.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He
killed the call with one finger. Paul, who had been listening to this
in silence, went on drying plates. Darcy gave Jake a look of utter,
horrified betrayal, and Jake put a hand to his face, running a thumb
over his cheekbone. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“He’s on his way. And yes, this is exactly what we need to do.” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“He does <i>not</i> need all this put on him, and you’ll have just scared him to death!” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“There’s
a time when being scared is the right, proportional response.” Jake put
the phone back in the cupboard, keeping hold of Darcy’s hand. “Luath
isn’t nearly as breakable as you think, and yes. He’s who needs to talk
with you about this.” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“We
did talk. We have talked. Endlessly, for bloody years!” Darcy pushed
angrily at tears that were starting to fall again, with one hand as Jake
was not letting go of the other. “We have said everything that’s
possible to say,”</span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">…. And then we stopped talking. Because what was left? It didn’t change anything. Rog still wasn’t there. </span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jake
shook his head with a lack of co operative sympathy that was not
helpful. “Then one or both of you needs to start listening better.” </span><br /> <br /> <br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"> </span><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">*</span><br /> <br /> <br /> <br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">The training of Tops is a difficult matter….. </span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Raking
the yard over, which it was late in the evening to be doing but gave a
view of the drive, Flynn found himself reciting the phrase under his
breath. The training never ended. In Philip’s opinion there was never a
point at which a Top was no longer in need of learning. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I
have to agree with Darcy, Jake will have petrified Luath.” Paul had
said earlier when he’d come out to bring Flynn a mug of tea. “Which he
did intentionally; not that he’s explaining.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You, I and Jas are used to moving as a team.” Flynn pointed out. “Jake doesn’t Top via committee when he does it.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">And
Jake wasn’t joking about feeling the realities of the contract to
Darcy; no responsible Top would have done. He’d given Luath time to
think on a three to four hour flight at best if he found one without
connections, then a drive out from Jackson – a good long time to simmer.
</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I think he’s seeing what’ll happen if he gives Luath a big enough jolt.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“It’s a bit harsh.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I
think we’re at the point we all need to know. We’ve been doing the
gently-gently approach for a long time now.” Flynn leaned on his rake,
sipping hot tea. “If Darce is still carrying all this and he can’t talk
to Luthe or get the support he needs there, and if that isn’t going to
change, then it’s time we knew. This has floated on long enough.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“What does Dale think?” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Didn’t you ask him?” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Paul
shook his head. “He thought it was more important that he got out of
the way this morning. He knows Darce has always been scared of him, he </span><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">thought it wouldn’t help. And Darcy has always been clear on why, hasn’t he? He says it. Dale sees too much.” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“He does.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“He headed out straight after breakfast, they all did. I didn’t have a chance to talk much.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Both
of their brats had decided they were going out to the barn roof on the
tops that had needed repair for a while now. They intended to sleep up
there tonight and finish the job tomorrow, and Tom had gone with them.
It had been an extremely tactful gesture. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“He
wasn’t saying much to me either,” Flynn agreed, “He was thinking a
whole lot about it, but if I had to guess; data not yet analysed. Ri was
nearer to hopping mad with Darcy, not wanting to let it loose and
wanting to get out of the house as fast as possible before he said
something unhelpful.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“And you?” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I keep thinking of Dale’s first work project out in New York.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Paul
sighed. “In fairness to Luthe, Dale isn’t the easiest brat in the
family and he’s very, very good at snowblowing. It took us some months
to really start to get a handle on it, and he was ours and living with
us – you and Jas got there quicker, but it took me more or less a year.
Rog was a darling, and he was a much, much more straight forward brat.
Late, lost, unprepared, it was all right there in your face. He didn’t
boil up out of sight the way Dale specialises in. And Gerry and Bear and
Wade are the emotional, volatile type, where it all hangs right out
where you can see it. Luthe’s brilliant with them, he always has been.
Dale’s a very different type.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Have
you ever seen any other Top in the family not react to Dale?” Flynn
asked him. “Think about it. Right from the start. Ash came over all
gentle and protective at the sight of him once he got over the initial <i>good grief that’s Dale Aden</i>.
Theo talks to him like he does to Bear; Dale’s the only other one Theo
does that with. He hits every button James has got. ‘Lito jokes about
how much Colm starts flexing his shoulders around Dale and hovering –
although he does that with Riley too, Colm gets like that about any
younger brats-”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I know. I know what you mean. I can understand though why Luath’s scared to let himself go there with Dale.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“When
I went out to New York it was Darcy who had Dale nailed.” Flynn said
quietly. “Not Luthe. It was Darce who told him Dale was messing him
around, it was Darce who asked Luath what he thought he was doing and
pointed out how messed up his boundaries were. Darce could see Dale
playing games when Luath couldn’t and he moved to protect Luthe. I think
Jake’s right. If Darce can’t look to Luath for support in the way he
needs, as a Top, then as a family we’re going to have to organise other
ways to meet that need for him. We need to know now.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Over
on the swing, Jasper was sitting with Darcy. They were rocking slowly,
Jasper had got Darcy talking about something he obviously found
comfortable enough to be talking fluently about. Flynn could see the
beginning of the graceful, active hand movements that went with Darcy
chatting. Jas could usually get most of their shyer, quieter brats out
of their shells, he’d been good at that with Roger and he’d always had a
particularly soft spot for Darcy. Flynn thought he saw a vulnerability
there that perhaps not all the family did; someone who watched and
assisted from the sidelines without always being seen. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">That was a quality Jasper always recognised and appreciated. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jake
was sitting on the porch rail. Not participating, but he was using his
size, using space, using his position to keep in clearly in Darcy’s mind
all the time that he was there, and not as a casual spectator. He
hadn’t left Darcy all day, he was on this job and Flynn had no doubt
that he wouldn’t pass it to Luath unless he felt satisfied to do so.
Less Jake now the friend and family member than Jake the family Top with
a vulnerable brat he was responsible for. </span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">This is the role we were trained in; it’s how Philip taught us. That responsibility comes first. Over everything else. </span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">A
car came into sight, bumping slowly over the grass track towards the
house. Flynn recognised the car hire fleet colours from Jackson, and
leaned the rake against the barn wall, walking around the house to meet
it before Darcy had time to see it coming. Luath saw him and pulled in
against the fence down by the winter shelter. He got out leaving the car
door swinging, face grim as Flynn reached him. His shirt was crushed,
his tie pulled loose, the ruins of a business suit put through a few
hard hours. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“What is it? What’s happened?” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Jake’ll
let you know. He went to New York last night, and brought Darce out
here with him.” Flynn took Luath’s arm to stop him, making Luath pause
and look at him. “Take a minute and calm down. It’s taken a lot of the
day to get past him bursting into tears.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Luath pushed his arm aside and took the porch steps in one long stride. </span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Yep. Good. </span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Flynn
followed him down the porch and around the corner. Darcy had heard them
coming; he was hunched on the swing looking somewhere between miserable
and alarmed. Jasper quietly got out of the way, making space for Luath
who sat down on the swing beside him and pulled Darcy into his arms,
running his hands over him. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“What’s happened? Stop shaking. Whatever it is, we’re going to be ok.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Calm.
He’d found the control over his tone in his deep, smooth voice that
would reach and calm Darcy; and he took a minute to hold him before he
turned up Darcy’s face. He must have seen the reddened eyes and his
expression. He then looked directly at Jake, who had risen to stand,
arms folded, weight square. Top to Top they rarely pulled punches. They
tended to tell it exactly as it was with all the information up front
that the other Top needed to get the most acute feel for what was going
on at the heart of it, and handle it right. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I
had a call from an old friend of Philip’s, Michael Morrison,” Jake said
bluntly, “That Darce had entered himself in a BDSM auction as an
experienced submissive, and he was very concerned that this wasn’t the
truth and he didn’t know how to deal with it without embarrassing Darcy.
Who had organised and planned the event with them, so Morrison was keen
not to blow his image in front of anyone else.” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Luath looked blankly at Darcy, who shrivelled deeper into the swing. “You did what? An <i>auction</i>?”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“And
he went through with it. I bought him off the block, lot number five,
for over five thousand dollars. Leather harness, g string and all.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“<i>Don’t</i>.” Darcy implored through his hands. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jake
took no notice, watching Luath. “I swore to Morrison I’d be there and
would win the bidding whatever it went to. Morrison actually had
stationed another planted member of their club in the room in case for
whatever reason I didn’t, he was that concerned. Looking the way Darcy
does, with the brief he set out on paper? He had some serious players
very interested. You might want to take a look at those.” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Despite
Darcy’s pleas he handed the auction paperwork to Luath. Luath sat
limply back in the swing, reading. His eyebrows rose steadily more
steeply as he read. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“What? This is absolute rubbish, you’ve never – you <i>what?</i>” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“We’ve
been through this.” Jake leaned on the porch rail, arms folded. “We’ve
established it’s lies from end to end, we’ve been through that he could
have been bought by absolutely any Dominant in that room who’d have been
expecting a highly experienced submissive fully up for all of that with
pretty much no limits,”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Have you <i>any</i>
idea how dangerous?” Luath demanded of Darcy, who was scarlet faced and
tears were starting again. “What did you plan to do when it got real?” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I
think he planned to grit his teeth and suffer through it as best he
could, in as much as he had a plan at all.” Jake said gently but
directly. “It was an auction to raise money for a 9/11 fund, Luthe. The
group organising it lost a friend in the towers. He’s been working with
them for several weeks, it’s been intense stuff, and he said to me he
felt this was something he could do. I suspect he meant ‘give’.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Damn.”
Luath said it softly, and with absolute understanding. He’d kept hold
of Darcy; all of Darcy’s curling up hadn’t managed to get rid of the
heavy arm around his waist, and Luath wasn’t as tall as Jake but he was a
big guy. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jake
watched him, eyes very level. “Flynn asked him the night it happened,
if he wanted to be hurt. He couldn’t say no. I think that was at least
part of it.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Well
it would be.” Luath said grimly. “Trying to feel anything you can make
sense of is… very much part of it. Right. I’ve got this, Jake. Thank
you.”</span><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">The
utter dismissal in that ‘thank you’ would have sounded rude and cold to
anyone else, anywhere else. To Flynn, it was the best sign yet. That was
the sound of a Top. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Luath
took Darcy with him, peeling him off the swing without difficulty, and
disappeared into the house. Left on the porch the other four Tops stood
in silence for a moment, until very faintly, upstairs, a door closed.
Then Jake lounged back against the rail, tipped his head back to look at
the porch roof and the evening sky above it, and released a long, slow
breath. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Ok. Now we see.” </span><br /> <br /> <br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">*</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Luath
took him to his and Roger’s room. The small room under the beams where
Luath had been banging his head for decades, and where one of Roger’s
bookcases crowded the room even further, his battered paperbacks in
lines on the shelves. Many were family favourites which is why they went
on sitting there; detective fiction, true crime, thrillers and an
eclectic selection of biographies jostled each other for space. Roger
had loved this room that looked out over the corral and the tops in the
distance, the steady climbing of small hills up through plateaus with
all the different shades and colours and the woods to the right to mark
where the river lay. Luath closed the door, took a seat on the bed and
pulled Darcy down beside him, folded the arm around his waist a whole
lot tighter and held Darcy hard against him, hip to hip. He was a lot
bigger and broader than Darcy was; something Darcy was deeply familiar
with. It was common enough that they’d curl up together on the couch at
Luath’s apartment much like this to watch something on television on an
evening. There had been a time there would have been three of them piled
together like this; it was a very old habit from a very long
friendship.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Head
against his shoulder, Darcy looked down at the deep black of Luath’s
long, strong fingers below the silver of his watch, the free hand that
rested on his knee. They said nothing for a moment, just sitting there
in the quiet, although Darcy could hear his heart pounding in his ears.
Then Luath said quietly in the way that more or less rumbled in his
chest. “You didn’t tell me you were working with this group.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“It was a memorial event.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“And you didn’t want to upset me.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“No point the two of us having to think about it.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Are you as tired as you sound?” Luath demanded. Darcy managed a forlorn snort of amusement.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I had Jacob drag me out west in the middle of the night for an interrogation, I think we got to bed sometime around four am.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“That wasn’t the kind of tired I meant. And I don’t like that kind of smartness when it’s something this serious.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Oh
don’t.” Darcy pulled away and lay flat on the bed, closing his eyes.
“Don’t, please. Jacob has jumped all over the whole ‘I bought you, I own
you, you want a Top you have got one’ thing,”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“And did he?”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Did he what?”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Did he do what a Top would do? Since you were looking to be Topped, and thoroughly, without limits?”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Darcy coloured, swallowing. “Well I got swatted. That was a first.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“When?”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“He
took me from the auction to a hotel, I suppose he’d had to book a room
to change, he had to rent a suit – he stuffed me in a bath there.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You were that shocky.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I was fine, I just had a large cowboy going all-”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Ok,
we’re done with this act.” Luath’s hand closed over Darcy’s wrist and
pulled him upright, holding him face to face. “I am done with that tone,
and that act. If Jacob felt you needed it, then you were in shock.
Which scares me because that tells me what a state you were in on that
auction block, and how much of a mess you were in to do this at all.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I have had all four of them going on and <i>on</i> about how serious this is!” Darcy snapped back. “I get it! It was not a good decision-”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“So you were in the bath.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Yes. And he hauled me out and swatted me.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Which was still a shock to think of. Decades of threats, and that was the first reality, and it had not been a pleasant one.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Why?”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Darcy
swallowed. “…I guess I got a little smart with him. And he made a lot
of threats. And finally he pulled that wretched lexan thing out of the
drawer in the office and..”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">For a moment he’d honestly thought Jake was going to do it.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“He made you think he might?”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“How do you know he didn’t?” Darcy demanded. Luath shook his head, voice still soft and level.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Because I know Jacob. And I know you.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Darcy swallowed, no longer at all sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. There was a moment’s silence.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“It
scared the absolute life out of me.” Darcy confessed very quietly. “And
Jake pointed out, it was him, here at home, and I knew nothing ever got
any worse here for anyone than a spanking, I knew that- I saw Rog in
serious trouble plenty of times, I know. I’ve heard it, I’ve seen it-
and then I felt even more of a coward.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Neither Rog nor I require that of you.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Darcy stared at the floor for a while. “Maybe I require it of myself.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“No.”
Luath said it very firmly. “I know what you’ve heard from Gerry when
he’s angry and looking for a way to hurt you, but you know it isn’t
true. It is ok to not want the whole lifestyle. You get to choose what
works for you. It doesn’t mean you’re afraid of it or you’ve chickened
out of the tough bits.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’ve spent my life hanging around it and watching, Luthe. Maybe he has a point.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You have got to stop letting him and Wade get to you. Do you think Roger thought like that?”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Darcy
gave him a ghost of a smile. “Oh Roger didn’t think at all about stuff
like that. Rog adored you and he just took every hour and every day as
it came, and I loved that about him so much. He didn’t have questions,
just whatever we did was ok.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">There
were still times he missed that dear, easy friendship so much it
physically hurt. Roger had made it so easy to just be with him, to just
do and enjoy with a total lack of questioning or worry. Always good
natured, always content just for them to be together and entertained
with whatever was happening. He’d be baffled by all the drama tonight if
he was here. He’d be piled on the bed with them, listening,
sympathetic, but focused mostly on yes, all right, now let’s get past
that and do what really matters. He’d joked, plenty of times over
Darcy’s head to Luath about picking up a paddle and using it.</span><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He said to me, more than once, and fairly seriously, he thought I could use it.</span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">But
Roger was a gentle man, who didn’t push. Always accepting. Always
tolerant. In many ways a man with a lot of chivalry. And Luath was like
him. He and Roger had blended and merged in that beautiful, easy way
that Darcy saw in so many of the closest, happiest couples he knew, in
time with each other and effortless in what flowed between them. The
hole in Luath broke Darcy’s heart. It had for years. He’d teased, he’d
coaxed, he’d gently kept the apartment going until Luath was able to
again, he’d kept the fridge filled, he’d gently dragged Luath out with
him to a restaurant or a show or a comedy club or anything at all to
keep him interested in life. Worn clothes that would shock him and make
him look and rouse his interest, teased about boyfriends and a nightlife
that made him laugh and make Toppish noises, which was good for him.</span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">It’s been years. Maybe it became an act, a habit.</span></i><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">If
Darcy was brutally honest, for the past five years evenings had been
far more about a glass of wine, his work files and the tv in his
apartment than in swinging in any club, shocking or otherwise. The dates
he went on were casual, teasing affairs, but these days he very rarely
took up the invitations that flowed to go back to a man’s bed and enjoy
his closer company. He lived the life of a monk while putting up the
illusion of living his day job, and it was something he thought most of
the family would find far harder to believe than they had ever found the
illusion.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Except Dale. Who looked, in that grey eyed, steady way, and saw….. way, way too much.</span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">I am scared of their brat.</span></i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"> Darcy
had said it the first time he met Dale, and meant it. Even more so when
he discovered Dale didn’t just notice too much. There was no knowing
what that man picked up on.</span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He just knew, </span></i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Gerry had said, months ago. <i>I
never told him. There was no way he could have known, but he knew the
details. The place, what I said, what I was thinking…. He dreams it, or
he just sees it or knows it. It’s like he tells Riley when there’s an
email in their box or tells Paul where the car keys are before Paul asks
him.</i></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">That
was way more than Darcy was prepared to cope with. It was hard enough
managing a fleet of Tops. And when Dale looked at him like that,
sometimes it was too hard not to think of Philip, who had worn the same
look at times.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">And
nothing was going to happen to hurt the man sitting beside him on the
bed. A gentle, kind man with too much heart, who was too beaten down for
all this. Who had already had to handle more than anyone like him
should ever have to. Darcy curled an arm through Luath’s and laid his
head back on Luath’s shoulder, hugging him.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’m sorry they scared you.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I
think I needed to be scared if you’re struggling enough to have done
something like this.” Luath said quietly. “You need to go back to that
therapist. Yeah, you do. I’ll go with you.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“There
isn’t anything he can say I haven’t heard or read or couldn’t hear from
Flynn any time I picked up the phone.” Darcy said wearily. “There isn’t
an answer. This was a … mad decision. I know. I’m glad Jake ended it, I
know this could have gone much, much worse. But it was just a perfect
storm. They miss their friend, this event mattered so much to them, and
you and I both know how that feels. I wanted to help, and I stopped
thinking.”</span><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">That
was a whole lot of bullshit. So much so that Philip would have laughed.
Darcy would not have expected to get away with that with Jake this
evening either. But he held his breath in spite of himself, leaning
against Luath, carefully showing no sign of it.</span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Don’t look. Don’t think. Don’t question it, Luthe. Just believe me and we’ll be all right.</span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Promise
me you’ll see that therapist.” Luath said against his hair. Darcy
nodded, accepting that for now. He could negotiate gently out of that
later. Meetings, work calls,</span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">No
window in the schedule Luthe, it’s just so busy busy, you know me! I’ll
find time in the summer. In the fall. After Christmas. In the never
never.</span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I will.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Luath
dropped a hard kiss on his hair. Loving. Understanding. And like that,
Darcy knew they were done. This was accepted as far as Luath was
concerned. Settled. Over. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’m really tired.” he said softly. Luath’s arm squeezed around him.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Want to stay with me tonight?”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">They’d
done that plenty of times, especially when the house was busy or one of
them was lonely. Darcy had shared a tiny tent with him and Roger more
than once, and Luath and Roger were affectionate people; he was more
than used to hugs or being physically close to both of them. When Roger
died, Darcy had fairly often shared Luath’s bed, to be there to hold him
and give him the physical comfort he needed, or to chat about nothing
much through the small hours as you could with your dearest friends.
Chaste and platonic, and the best friend he knew how to be. With much
love, Darcy put a hand against Luath’s jaw and kissed his cheek.
Beautiful, sweet man, who always tried his best.</span><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jake should not have put this on you. This is not for you to carry.</span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’ll be fine, I just need to catch up on sleep. I was working ridiculous hours up to the event anyway. Thanks for coming.”</span><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You
know I’m always here for you.” Luath turned him and hugged him
strongly. “I always will be. Get some sleep. It’s going to feel better
in the morning.”</span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">No. It really won’t. But thanks.</span></i><br /> <br /> <br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">*</span><br /> <br /> <br /> <br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jasper
had gone to lock up. Paul was setting bread. Out on the porch Jake and
Flynn were sitting more or less in silence, trying not to look too
obviously like they were waiting for news. Luath took a moment in the
kitchen to fill a glass with water, smiled at Paul and pulled his tie
even looser, walking out onto the porch to join Flynn on the swing.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“He’s ok. He’s gone to bed, he was exhausted.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">That
had taken fifteen minutes at the most. Flynn looked at him, seeing the
relaxed hands, the limp shoulders. Done. Relieved. He didn’t need to
look at Jake to see Jake’s shoulders set in response.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’ll
get him to see the therapist in New York that he worked with a few
years ago.” Luath sipped orange juice, leaning back into the swing.
“Thanks for rescuing him, Jake. He says it was a perfect storm and I
think he’s probably right. I’ll take him home with me tomorrow,”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Tom
and I are out in Barbados at the moment, we’re on a diving project
there.” Jake said and it was in his usual, genial tone, but Flynn read
everything underneath it. “It’s all right Luthe. I’ll ask Darcy to come
back with us. The vacation would probably do him good.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“What are you diving?”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Pirate
wrecks. Literally. There’s a suspected well known one in the bay where
we are. The hotel has plenty of rooms, it’s quiet, lots of time out on
the beach, blue skies and sand and not much else to do.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“If he’s free he probably could use that.” Luath agreed. Jake inclined his head.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“He’s
free. I checked his schedule on his phone last night. Other than a few
phone meetings he could do from anywhere he’s got nothing for the next
ten days.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“When did you check his phone?” Luath asked, surprised.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I
got him to take me by his apartment. I wanted to know if there was a
work crisis we didn’t know about, or if he’d had another fight with
Gerry and the others, or if any of them knew what he’d got himself in to
and hadn’t told us.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Luath nodded slowly, reflecting on that. “….yes. All good points. Bit invasive though?”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Needs
must.” Jake said lightly. And it was that which gave it away to Flynn
more than anything else. Jake had the information he wanted, and now
there would be no more waiting, no more arguing. And Flynn agreed with
him. Regretful, sad, protective of Luath, and he knew they all were; if
Luath wasn’t prepared to do it then they had to.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“How was Wade?” Jake asked. “Did he show you that new marina they’re building?”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">And like that, he changed the subject. And Luath let him.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“It was bloody heart breaking.” Flynn said later to Paul and Jasper, when Luath had gone to bed.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“It’s
his choice.” Paul said, and he was looking the most upset of any of
them. He’d known Luath the longest; he and Luath had been close in the
days before Roger and Luath were a couple. “The option was there. He
knows Darcy the best. So he’s choosing to let it slide, and not to take
it any deeper, and we have to respect that. As much as we respected his
right to step in and take over if he wanted. Luthe doesn’t have to do
it, he gets to decide without guilt, without pressure. His consent
counts too.”</span><br /> <br /> <br /> <br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jake,
sitting out on the porch in the darkness, heard the soft and uncertain
footfall on the stairs a little after midnight. Tom was up on the tops
with Dale and Riley; they wouldn’t be hard to find and Tom would be
enjoying himself tonight, out in the open with the two of them. But he
wouldn’t have left Darcy. He’d have been reluctant to even if Luath had
been fully on it; as it was – Darcy remained wholly and entirely his
responsibility. Which he’d manage as discreetly apart from Luath as
possible, but he would manage it.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He
leaned far enough from the swing to push open the kitchen door,
unsurprised by who he found there. Slight. Barefoot. Large eyed. Darcy
looked exotic when he was carefully dressed, but in a t shirt and sleep
shorts, tonight he looked lost, fragile and miserable, in a way
guaranteed to hit a wired up Top in the guts.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I
just wanted to get a drink…” he began lamely, although he hovered
somewhere between the fridge and the stove as if he wasn’t sure what to
do next. Jake got up, took his hand and towed him gently out onto the
porch, resuming his seat on the swing and pulling Darcy down into his
lap.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He’d
seen Philip do this many times, and Darcy, presented with warm arms and
someone confidently taking the lead, curled up on his chest. He was
shaking a little with misery. Not tears. They’d had plenty of tears over
the past twenty four hours, although in Jake’s opinion it was mere
overflow and not getting near the real release he needed.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“What did Luthe say?” Jake said quietly as he rocked the swing. Darcy sighed.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“To
see the shrink in New York again. I don’t think it’ll help, but ok. It
was just a perfect storm. Bad timing, bad subject, bad idea-”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“</span><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Yeah,
try that utter bollocks on someone who’s going to believe it Darce,
don’t waste it on me.” Jake interrupted just as gently. “You could have
got seriously hurt, and that was in part your intent, so don’t use that
tone to me or pretend this is ok. It isn’t. This isn’t something we’re
going to brush off or ignore, you and I.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Oh Jake. You’re being very sweet, but-”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Contract.” Jake said shortly. “Signed. I’m headed back to Barbados with Tom in the morning. You’re coming with me.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I can’t-”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I
checked your phone at the apartment, I know your schedule. You can. You
can make any necessary work calls from the hotel, and I can keep you
under my eye. You can come willingly, or you can come kicking and
screaming Darce, I’m not really bothered which. You are coming.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’m not going anywhere with Tom!”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I never thought you disliked Tom.” Jake said mildly. Darcy drew a breath, sounding increasingly close to tears.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“<i>I don’t</i> dislike
Tom! Of course I don’t. I am just not going anywhere with him looking
at me thinking what an utter, contemptible fool I am for…”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“He
does not think that.” Jake hugged him closer, preventing the attempt to
get up and walk away. “Neither of us think that. We’re worried that
this was an impulsive, destructive action that suggests you’re feeling
pretty numb, or pretty desperate, or possibly both. And if you’ve got
questions around what you want, wanting domination, wanting that kind of
play and you’re not sure of the reasons why or what it is you’re really
after, then Tom’s probably the best person you could have to talk to
about it. He gets it. He’ll be honest with you about his own history
there. It took him a long time to figure it out.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">There was a long silence. Darcy’s voice was even less steady when he spoke again.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Luthe
said he thought this is to do with Gerry and Wade… they’ve always said
when they’re mad enough and wanting to lash out, I play with the
dynamic. I take the bits I want, and I’m too afraid to get real and go
any further. It’s cowardice.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“What do you think?”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Luthe
says it’s fine to choose the parts that work for me.” Darcy sounded
deadened about that. “I pointed out to him I’ve been hanging around this
lifestyle and watching from the edges all my adult life. Maybe Ger and
Wade have a point.”</span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Luthe, he straight out told you. He told you clearly, right here.</span></i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"> Jake
mentally shook his head, torn between frustration and pity and concern
for a Top he’d respected and loved since he was a kid. He kept his voice
relaxed out of habit, the genial and easy one that tended to reassure
Tom in an escalating panic.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Yeah
well you really didn’t have to fling yourself into the deep end of BDSM
to try and work that one out, sweetheart. You’ve got plenty of us to
turn to if you want to talk about it or if you’ve got needs to be met,
we’re safer quantities.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“And all of you know me,”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Yeah,
that’s it. Exactly. Right there.” Jake pointed out. “We don’t play,
we’re very much for real. Which means yes we know you, and you can talk
to us, and that makes me wonder just how real you are being with any of
us lately.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Oh try for years.” Darcy said wearily.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Yeah,
I’m getting the impression that’s how you’re feeling.” Jake said with
compassion. “And that you’re tired. Not physically but in a lot of other
ways. And carrying way too much, and it’s getting on top of you, and
this was a whole lot bursting out. In a pretty self destructive way. Am I
getting anything wrong so far?”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">The lack of reply was telling. Jake rocked the swing slowly beneath them.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Darce, not everything has to be in the context of a relationship. Negotiation works in friendships too,”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’m not a brat.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You
don’t have to take any label you don’t choose to. You know we don’t all
fit neatly into those two boxes. I don’t think that you’re entirely
neutral either, and never have been, not to mention that people’s
perspectives and needs change over time. We all evolve.” Jake paused to
let him think. “That part is all your choice and you don’t have to
justify it, which is why we’ve spent years telling Gerry and the others
to shut up and back off. But quite apart from that. If you’re looking
for catharsis, and I think you are, then it’s going to be with me. And
safely. With me making sure that you’re ok before, during and
afterwards.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You’ve
been threatening since yesterday evening, Rog and Luath used to
threaten too, Philip did,” Darcy began, with the slightly brittle
amusement that had worried Tom at Christmas when he heard it. Jake
interrupted it without compunction.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’m
not threatening. I’m saying I think that’s some of what you were
wanting. I very much understand that feeling. I agree that sometimes
that kind of a release can help a lot, and you know I speak from
experience; Tom finds it very much so. And I’m letting you know I am
willing to provide you with that release if you want it. And I’m also
letting you know that if I see you go looking for it anywhere less safe
again in this kind of unthought out, self destructive way then I will be
providing it myself without waiting for you to negotiate first. I will
take that as you making it very clear to me that you need me to step in.
Understood?”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He spoke softly but Darcy still nodded, eyes large. “Yes.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Then
let’s go on up to David’s map room. You’ve got a lot of associations
with the study, I don’t think they’re all helpful ones, and we’re not
going to get disturbed in there.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Darcy’s eyes couldn’t have got any larger if he tried. Jake slid Darcy off his lap and got up, holding out a hand.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I
will remind you, you’re bound to be pliant to my desires within your
hard limits for… well around thirty four hours more yet. And my desire
is very definitely for you to do and take whatever you need for you
right now. You’re the only one who knows what that is. So I’m offering,
and you only do this if you want to.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“If
I come up to the map room, will you spank me?” It came out as mostly a
squeak that had no business coming out of the mouth of a mature man.
Jake gave him a calm, decisive nod.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Yes.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">For no reason Darcy understood at all, even though his knees were shaking, he took Jake’s hand.</span><br /> <br /> <br /> <br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
It was cool in the map room. It was a room Darcy was intimately
familiar with; a room much loved by those who had known David best. His
spread out three d map was on the floor, with its harbours and ships and
the ranch by the river. A single chair was in the light of the roof
window, with a bookmarked book lying on the cushioned seat.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jake
didn’t pause to put the map lights on. He didn’t pause at all. He just
gently and directly led Darcy to the chair and took a seat there,
keeping hold of his hand. A large man, tall and broad and yet the grasp
on Darcy’s hand was a gentle and a comforting one, there was no sense of
being pulled anywhere.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Are
you all right? Try breathing.” He suggested it softly, teasingly but in
his usual friendly way, there was no mockery in it. It was radically
different from this morning when he’d advanced with a paddle and made a
very clear demonstration of what it could be like.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Darcy drew a trembling, careful breath.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Jake nodded approval. “That’s the way. In and out.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I haven’t.” Darcy began somewhat incoherently. “I’ve never,”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I know.” Jake sounded perfectly relaxed about it. “It’s not rocket science, Darce. Everyone had a first time once.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">It
was something the family brats were unusually shy of talking about, as
if it was something intensely sensitive. And now Darcy understood that
as he never before had.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You
won’t pull anything down…?” he began stupidly, aware he was too
embarrassed and emotional now to be coherent. Jake smiled at him, very
kindly, shaking his head.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Of course I will.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Darcy had no idea if he was more horrified or relieved by that answer.</span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">This is me. This is really me, standing here, about to……..</span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He
was scared. Very. But it wasn’t the choking terror of this morning at
all. And Jake’s grasp on his hand was comfort, support and not
restraint. He wasn’t even noticeably waiting. He was just relaxed and
there, and the kindness of that, the support in that, was making Darcy’s
throat hurt. Jake was watching him, and Darcy felt the soft squeeze on
his hand.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Ready?”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">It
wasn’t as if he didn’t know what to do. He’d seen it. Many, many times.
He’d heard it even more. He’d been part of the conversations about it
between the brats, between him and Roger, for most of his adult life.</span><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">All second hand knowledge. All one step removed. Story of your life.</span></i><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He
took that intentional step forward, not at all sure how to do this, and
Jake helped there too, not pulling but putting an arm around his waist
that supported as much as guided him as he laid himself over Jake’s lap.
It was high. His fingertips could barely brush the floor, his toes
weren’t anywhere near. Jake’s hand clasped his hip, the weight of Jake’s
forearm rested on his back, warm and heavy and making him feel held and
stable rather than dangling. He knew even then he could have stopped
Jake with a word. He knew it. He was trembling, his palms were slippery,
his stomach was twisting wildly, his throat was dry, and he couldn’t
swallow back an absolutely pitiful whimper as Jake did what Darcy knew
he would do; grasped the waist of his shorts and lowered them, gently
but efficiently and right out of his way to his knees. He wore clothes
on a regular basis that others found revealing to the point of pushing
the boundaries of acceptability. That was fashion. He wore those without
thinking twice, they never made him feel vulnerable. It was absolutely
no preparation for being bare bottomed over the lap of a highly
competent Top. None at all.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“You’re
ok.” Jake said softly, and his large, heavy hand rubbed soothingly over
Darcy’s bottom. “Keep breathing sweetheart. You’re going to be fine.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">The
members of Morrison’s club did this for fun. Right now Darcy had no
understanding of that at all. That many of the people he loved most were
frank about not finding this fun but still quite willingly exposed
themselves to it and didn’t really worry that much about it was equally
incomprehensible. And yet he still didn’t get up, or plead, or throw his
hand behind him and try to defend himself, or do anything else
sensible. He just went right on making those ridiculous, soft whimpering
sounds.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He
should properly have been thinking about here was the nearest reality
to what it would have been like to have been taken from the auction by
an unfamiliar Dominant who would have expected that he undressed and got
involved in something a lot more challenging than an over the knee bare
hand spanking. It should have brought home to him how nightmarish that
really would have been; how there would have been nowhere for that
situation to go from there that would not be awful for both himself and
the poor Dominant involved.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">He
didn’t. He didn’t really think much about anything at all, there was no
coherent thought, there was just being in his body and very aware of
it, and very, very apprehensive, and then Jake’s hand lifted and
slapped, and a sharp smart blossomed across one cheek, and was swiftly
matched by one on the other side. He was more surprised initially than
hurt. The swat in the bath had been much harder. But unhurriedly and
steadily, Jake’s hand spanked against his bottom, firmly rather than
sharply, covering a range of ground some parts of which were rather more
sensitive than others to the point that he was aware of some jumping
and flinching, and of… a growing warmth and smart that was uncomfortable
right from the start. But it was an intimate and surprisingly calm
experience. There was no panic. There was no conversation either and
that was a relief; the communication was entirely non verbal and it made
so very much more sense than any words did. It was to do with being
bare, with being held like this across the lap of a man Darcy had loved
and trusted for decades, with the entirely physical expression of <i>that auction was a really bloody awful idea </i>and <i>there is only so long you can keep all this in. There is only so long you can last. </i>It went deep, it really, really did. It went to places words never did.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">The
heat and the smart built up quite quickly, by about the third or fourth
round of Jake’s hand landing no harder but definitely very firmly on
already well smacked skin Darcy was aware he could no longer keep still,
his hips were developing a life of their own and so were his feet. He
was getting increasingly breathless and the whimpering he wasn’t able to
stop was getting louder and less controlled. The calm steadiness of it
all was perhaps what loosened his throat and his reserve the most; it
just went on, quite composedly, the repetition doing the work, and
somewhere after that he was actively wriggling and gripping Jake’s
jeaned legs, and now it hurt, it wasn’t just uncomfortable, it hurt, and
his breath was starting to come more and more freely and loudly, and
his face was wet. Then Jake paused and Darcy felt his palm rub softly
around the top of his thigh where the blazing, smarting throb wasn’t,
and Jake’s voice was very kind.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Still ok? We’re nearly done. We’re going to finish with some harder ones.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">That
was not in any way a comforting or helpful thing to warn of, but
somehow it had an effect, Darcy felt his breathing involuntarily sink
with his stomach and the tears wash harder out of his eyes, and then
Jake’s hand spanked down across his already very well warmed behind and
it was a whole lot sharper, a hard spank that ripped out all his self
control, and for what felt like an eternity Jake was delivering those
hard, well placed spanks, one calmly after another right on target, and
he was twisting and yelling and sobbing hard, and blubbering out a whole
lot of incoherent stuff most of which he wasn’t sure of, and there was
no coherent thought anywhere. There was just feeling and reacting.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">When
he got to the point he could hear himself think and was breathing
rather than gasping and sobbing, his face felt drenched. His chest felt
free, released and aching with it, his whole body felt limp and his butt
felt torched. It throbbed, the fire of it was dominating. There was
nothing anywhere in him that could compete with that for attention. It
was quite a shock to take a break from all the things that normally and
habitually dominated him. That was what he had been looking for and Jake
had known it; something big enough and physical enough to get in the
way of his head and give him an escape. To un-numb a lot of what had
been frozen and stuck. He still couldn’t stop sobbing, not the sobbing
of distress or pain so much as just a lot of things rushing free and
releasing themselves; he couldn’t make his chest or throat contain
themselves and swallow it down. Even when Jake helped him up, took him
into his lap and rocked him, his big arms wrapped so closely around
Darcy it was like being swallowed up, he couldn’t stop. Jake didn’t try
to encourage him to. He just rocked and murmured quiet, soothing things,
and let him cry.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">They’d
all done that. In all honesty they had all done that, they had been
wonderful. He and Luath had always been able to cry all they needed to,
there had never been any shortage of men from this family to listen, to
hold them, to be there with them, to encourage them, patiently.
Untiringly, and this wretched process went on for years. But it hadn’t
been anywhere near so damn a powerful release as this.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Now
he had some clue of what Gerry was talking about when he talked about
an attitude adjusted or a mood changed, or about feeling absolved.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">His
face was extremely stiff with salt when Jake helped him to his feet and
guided him by the hand downstairs to the kitchen. His butt was hot,
somewhere along the line he’d reacquired his shorts in the right place
and he could feel the heat through them, but none of the stiffness in
the hips he’d seen in well spanked brats in this house. He suspected,
even still sniffling and swallowing, that this had probably been a
pretty mild spanking by the standards of the experienced. It hadn’t felt
like it. Jake rested a hand on the warming plate then felt the kettle
standing on it. He must have left it like that earlier; Paul never left
it on the plate through the night, but it meant he poured them both a
mug of fairly hot, milky tea. Darcy leaned against him, under Jake’s
arm, and drank in the darkness of the kitchen. The house felt peaceful.
Stable and safe, as it always had.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“What are we doing in Barbados?”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Diving
pirate wrecks.” Jake swallowed tea, giving him a hug. “Which is right
in the bay, I can keep an eye on you on the beach. You can catalogue the
gold as we bring it off.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“Is there any?”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“That’s
what we’re there to find out.” Jake’s aqua blue eyes gave him a lazy,
teasing glint that always made it hard to know how serious he was.
“You’ll need to raid the airport bookstore on the way out. You’re going
to be swimming, sunbathing, reading and not much else for a few days. I
want a close eye on you.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“And then?”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“And then we’ll talk about what’s next.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’m not your problem.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“I’m family.” Jake dropped a firm kiss on the side of his head. “Can you sleep?”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“For a week.” Darcy admitted. “What about Tom? Is Tom going to mind? I don’t want to-”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">“It
was Tom’s idea.” Jake said softly. “I told you, if you want someone to
talk to, you won’t find anyone who understands better than him. It’s ok
Darce. You are going to be ok.”</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">To Be Continued... </span><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">but it WILL take some time. </span></span></span></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Keep breathing, and remember that last line.</span></span></span></b></p><p><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"><i><b><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">Copyright Rolf and Ranger 2021 </span></b></i><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;"> </span> </span><br /><br /><br /></p>tarabeth1210http://www.blogger.com/profile/14902928357845152351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3812077977994131831.post-81381696339709358572021-07-10T16:32:00.002-07:002021-07-10T16:32:15.911-07:00The Speaker's House<p>
</p><div style="border-bottom: solid #4F81BD 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-themecolor: accent1; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 4.0pt 0in;">
<p class="MsoTitle"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: windowtext;">The Speaker's House </span></b></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
<br />
</span><span class="Heading1Char"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Falls
Chance Ranch</span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
<br />
</span><span class="Heading1Char"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">December
25th</span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
“Want some company?”<br />
<br />
It was Niall’s voice. Dale, stretched out on the couch by the fire where Flynn
had put him with a quiet but definite implication that getting up without permission
was not going to end well, would have sat up. Niall put a gentle hand on his
shoulder, sitting on the hearth stone beside him.<br />
<br />
“It’s ok, it’s only me. Don’t open your eyes, you’re at home, you don’t have to
be polite. Still a bit blurry?”<br />
<br />
“No, it’s hardly there now, but it is worse when I’m tired.” Dale admitted.<br />
<br />
“Some of which is our fault,” Niall said a little apologetically. “I hope it’s
not worse for us kidnapping you this morning?”<br />
<br />
Dale smiled, keeping his arm over his eyes. That hour in the snow this morning
would stay with him for the rest of his life and he knew it. “If it is, it was
worth it.”<br />
<br />
“Good.” From Niall’s voice he was smiling. “I think we all thought so too.
Although this is the first Christmas in a while I’ve seen quite that many
corners of this house occupied all at one time.”<br />
<br />
Yes, it was the first time in Dale’s experience of seeing a large group of Tops
united quite that way; discipline was something usually fairly discreet when
they were all together like this and it was not easy to pick Top from Brat in
many of them unless you knew. This morning, for about ten minutes, there had
been very little doubt in this house, and to Dale’s observations all of the
brats involved found it as reprehensibly amusing as he did. There had been no
apologies for the simple reason that no one brat orientated at all was sorry,
and no Top type person belonging to this family expected them to be. <br />
<br />
The large Christmas tree was twinkling slowly with its lights by the fireplace,
and candles were lit on the mantelpiece where the family pictures stood. The
kitchen was busy with a lot of people washing up and sitting around the table
chatting; no one was ever in a rush to move after Christmas dinner and the hum
of male voices in the distance were as pleasant as the steady crackle of the
fire. Somewhere, at some time, these had become very much the sounds of home.
It was good. Deeply, wonderfully good, about as good as those little toys on
the tree out there in the woods, or Flynn driving half way across the states to
get them here, Jasper walking out of the snow having hitchhiked all that way to
be with them, or to be officially in disgrace with a large group of other men
who got it, and really didn’t mind much. Dale had been shocked at how distressing
the thought had been of not getting home in time for Christmas, to be in this
place with these people. For someone who had not really noticed the date for
most of their lives, it was a one of the many forcible reorientations of heart
this house had caused in him. He knew this house at Christmas with his senses,
his heart and he suspected his soul, and he knew too that there were many
around the table right now, men he knew and loved, who like him had never felt
like that about any other roots in their life.<br />
<br />
“How was your trip out?” he asked Niall, not having really had much time to
talk to him yet since Flynn had been taking the whole <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">don’t get overstimulated with concussion</i> thing very seriously.<br />
<br />
“It was busy.” Niall said calmly. “We were little late this year, we only
arrived the day before yesterday. I had something of a last minute case.”<br />
<br />
Dale reflected on what he knew of the American judicial system. “Isn’t that a
little close to the holidays? I thought the courts closed.”<br />
<br />
“Oh it wasn’t court.” Niall reassured him. “It was a bit of an odd situation
really.”<br />
<br />
There was something in his tone. Dale lowered his arm to see his face. There
were only the two of them here in the family room, and he had a feeling Niall
wanted it that way. Niall gave him a rather faint smile. “Gerry and Bear tell
me you’re the one to talk to about odd stories. And I think James agrees with
them. Do you know how much James thinks of you?”<br />
<br />
That little question went directly to Dale’s throat and heart. James was a
remarkable man in many ways; it was impossible not to respect him, or to
appreciate the now many times he’d gone out of his way to be extremely kind in
the way only a very experienced family Top could, and to a brat who to James’
experienced eyes must look like a walking disaster much of the time. It was not
always easy to speak frankly, but there were times now when Dale knew what to
say and made himself, because these were connections too important to let
reserve get in the way.<br />
<br />
“I hope you know how much I love James. He’s been very kind to me.”<br />
<br />
Niall’s eyes were very warm. “Don’t think you haven’t earned that. He’s seen
you in action, he understands it, and he sees what you do here on the ranch.
Not to mention we very much appreciated you making it possible for us to go to
London last year.”<br />
<br />
“It was my pleasure.” Dale watched Niall’s face, intentionally making himself
relax and focus in a way that helped pick up the most information possible.
“Niall is there something wrong? I’m very glad to do anything I can help you
with, please do ask.” <br />
<br />
Niall turned the glass he was holding gently between his fingers. It was red
wine and it sparkled in the firelight. “I don’t need anything.” There was
palpable affection in his tone, a much older family brat to a younger one. “Just
an understanding ear would be nice, if you wouldn’t mind? I think you’re
probably someone in this family who’d truly understand it.”<br />
<br />
“Of course.”<br />
<br />
“Cover your eyes if you need to, I’m not going to tire you out.” Niall moved a
little closer on the hearth stone so Dale could lie back and still listen. “I
went to a meeting yesterday. It was… well. A rather unexpected follow up to a
case I dealt with a very long time ago.”<br />
<br />
“What kind of case?”<br />
<br />
“Well that was and is the million dollar question.” Niall said ruefully. “At
the time it happened, James and I had only just moved from here out to Chicago
so I could set up a legal practice. I don’t know if you knew we started out in
Chicago? We’d only been there a month or two and I was quite grateful to have
any case at all, so I was doing any work that I could persuade to walk through
the door.”<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Chicago 15th December 1953<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
His office was slightly more dilapidated than their apartment was. Which was
saying something. In a good light, on a good day, with the wind in the right
direction, it looked – brown. And what might be described as clean but
comfortably shabby for a room that mostly consisted of a desk, a filing
cabinet, a bookcase, a rug on the floor and several chairs. And a picture on the
wall, a painting which James had hung there for him when they’d set the office
up together. On a less good day, such as now, in the chill of a wet December
evening…. the office still looked like a small room in a basement that hadn’t
changed much in about sixty years. Niall was vaguely aware of the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">plink… plink</i>…. coming from the elderly
bucket further underneath the leak dropping steadily past the edge of his desk
from the pouring rain outside. A file was open in front of him, but he wasn’t
looking at it. To be honest, he wasn’t looking at anything. That tended to
happen sometimes.<br />
<br />
The clock, prominently displayed directly across from the desk was supposed to
help with this, but the hands had long since moved unseen past the five pm
point. Niall’s hands were unconsciously steepled in front of his face in that
kind of numb, meditative state where time just went away. It was dark on the
street through the sliver of window in sight high at the top of the wall that
showed street level, and the office was darker. It took a while before he
became aware of the man in the doorway, still patiently knocking at the half
open door.<br />
<br />
“Mr Carey? Sir? Mr Carey?”<br />
<br />
The man’s face was thin and anxious, and he was wet through. The thin and
battered cloth coat was soaked, and so was the hat in his hand. No one would
venture down the dark steps unless they really wanted to find him. Niall
hurriedly got up, dragging himself together, and lit the oil lamp on the corner
of his desk since electricity hadn’t made it down to the basement.<br />
<br />
“I’m sorry, hello. Please come in.”<br />
<br />
The man edged further into the room. He didn’t look hopeful. In the several
weeks of trying to start a law practice, Niall had come to know that the very
few clients who had walked through that door ever did; this was not a district
of residents that had confidence in legal matters. It was a strong part of the
reason Niall had determinedly set up here, instead of in the smarter parts of
town where a steady diet of conveyancing and will writing from the well paid and
well fed members of the Chicago populace would have provided-<br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">a much easier income, an office that
doesn’t leak, that had electricity and actual daylight,<br />
<br />
and no clients wanting anything interesting at all.</i><br />
<br />
“Do sit down.” Niall invited him. “Mr….?”<br />
<br />
“Byrne. Padraic Byrne.” The man’s Southern Irish accent was still strong. It
was similar enough to his father’s accent that Niall warmed to it immediately.
The man took a cautious seat on the edge of a chair, turning his hat around in
his hands. The signs were easy to read. Long used to shocked and numbed
witnesses, Niall seated himself slowly, not making eye contact, giving the man
time to think. It took Mr Byrne a moment to gather himself.<br />
<br />
“I’m sorry to disturb you at this time of the evening. I know it’s late, but
I’ve tried… everywhere else in town.”<br />
<br />
Niall waited, watching the hat turn all the way around in one direction and
then rotate back like a dark cloth steering wheel. “How long have you been
looking for advice, Mr Byrne?” he said gently at length when Mr Byrne seemed to
need the lead. Mr Byrne cleared his throat.<br />
<br />
“About two years now. On and off. The police kept saying to wait, and.. things
kept having to be waited for. Documents. Inquests.”<br />
<br />
“What is it I can do for you?”<br />
<br />
“Well I don’t rightly know. That’s what I need the advice for.” Mr Byrne drew a
slow breath and seemed to find the start of a script, in a way that told Niall
he’d recited this more than a few times. “My daughter, Rose, died two years
ago. The inquest said it was an accident. The police told me it was an
accident. I don’t think it was, but there’s no one who’ll listen to me or give
me the time of day other than to say they’re sorry.”<br />
<br />
“What makes you think it wasn’t an accident?” Niall said gently. Mr Byrne’s
eyes darkened. Beneath the despair, this man was deeply, fiercely angry, and
that too was something Niall recognised.<br />
<br />
“Because there were things she told me about, things weeks before it happened.
And a man she knew of.”<br />
<br />
“What man?”<br />
<br />
“Now that’s the thing, to be sure.” Mr Byrne gave Niall a wry smile that held
no amusement at all. “The police and the state are glad to be telling me that
he never existed. Imagine that. A man that never was.”<br />
<br />
Niall surveyed him. Then opened his desk drawer. Mr Byrne sighed.<br />
<br />
“I know, I know. I’ll be getting along with my imaginings and I’m sorry to take
up your time,”<br />
<br />
“Please, start at the beginning.” Niall put the pad of paper down on the desk
and uncapped his pen, kneeing the drawer closed. “Tell me about your daughter.”<br />
<br />
The man looked surprised. Niall waited, pen poised. “Rose, you said. Rose
Byrne?”<br />
<br />
“Yes. Rose.” The man gathered himself, watching him. “She was twenty three.
Worked as a housemaid for the Lymingtons. The family who own the-”<br />
<br />
“The steel magnates? Yes. I know of them.”<br />
<br />
Few in this city didn’t. The Lymington family were one of the largest and
wealthiest socialite families at the top of Chicago’s celebrity list, they
frequently made the newspapers.<br />
<br />
“My Rose worked for the youngest son and his wife.” Byrne told him. “Housemaid
and lady’s maid.”<br />
<br />
Niall frowned as a thought occurred. “Wasn’t that the Lymington who went
berserk and killed his wife?”<br />
<br />
“That’s the one.” Byrne sounded grim. “For all they tried hushing it up. Killed
his wife then shot himself. Supposedly.”<br />
<br />
“Supposedly?”<br />
<br />
Byrne abruptly leaned forward on the desk, his voice lowering. “It was on the
same night my Rose died. When the police came to the house, Lymington was found
dead in his bedroom and the door was locked. The police had to break down the
door. Rose was found on the stairs outside. Blow to the head they said. The
story they give was that she heard the shot, ran up the stairs and fell. An
accident. A tragic accident so the judge said. Unconnected.”<br />
<br />
“I see.” Niall finished the note he was scribbling and waited, pen poised. “So
why do you believe it might not have been?”<br />
<br />
Byrne surveyed him. “Now you’re the first lawyer I’ve spoken to who’s heard me
disagree with an inquest and the police, and then heard the name ‘Lymington’,
and not run me out of their office as fast as they can.”<br />
<br />
“I’ve had rather a lot of experience listening to odd stories and political
names.” Niall said wryly. “Tell me why you believe this may not have been an
accident Mr Byrne?”<br />
<br />
“Like I told you. There was a man. Young Lymington had a man hiding in that
house.” Byrne sat back in his chair, his eyes darkening again. “No one was
supposed to know. Only the upstairs servants ever saw him, and that was mostly
Rose and Mr Lymington’s valet. Just a family guest they were told, except he
had little to do with the family. Rose said he didn’t leave the house except
when Mr Lymington Senior and other men came for him, or when they came to meet
with him. Didn’t go down for dinner if there were guests, he ate in his room.
Rose heard raised voices a few times, Lymington and that man. Lymington didn’t
like him much from what Rose saw. You remember Lymington’s wife?”<br />
<br />
“Only what was in the newspapers. I remember she was very young.”<br />
<br />
“Barely twenty, poor little thing. She’d been in a film or two before she
married, film star she was. They’d hardly been married a year. Rose said Mrs
Lymington was scared to her bones of that man Lymington had staying there.”<br />
<br />
“Did Rose know why?”<br />
<br />
“Never anything you could put a finger on, but Rose said she saw the looks he
gave her. The way the man watched her. Never anything much enough that she
could complain to Lymington about it, but he made his presence felt. And he
hovered over that cup in its glass case, night and day. Mrs Lymington never
liked having it in the house.”<br />
<br />
Like many upset witnesses, this man was coming to the bones of his case in
pieces. Niall picked up that one, responding calmly to keep Lymington’s flow
going.<br />
<br />
“Tell me about the cup.”<br />
<br />
“It was a gift the man made to Lymington. A late wedding gift, so the story
went.” Byrne sounded cynical. “It was silver. Real silver, large, there were
jewels set around the bowl and the base. No one was allowed to touch or clean
it save Lymington’s valet. It was kept in a glass case in the study off Mr
Lymington’s rooms, and the rumour was around the servants it was from Europe.
Very old.”<br />
<br />
“Do you know this man’s name?”<br />
<br />
“Novotny. Mr Novotny. That’s what the servants were told.”<br />
<br />
So Eastern European heritage. Niall made the note. “And there were meetings in
the house, and sometimes Mr Novotny was taken out of the house by Mr Lymington
senior, but otherwise he stayed in his rooms?”<br />
<br />
“So Rose said. Mrs Lymington wasn’t happy, she wanted him gone but Lymington
said they had to keep him a few weeks more.”<br />
<br />
“I see.” Niall paused again, re filling his pen. “Do you suspect Mr Novotny may
have been involved in Rose’s death?”<br />
<br />
“I don’t know. But I know I don’t believe young Lymington killed his wife.”
Byrne said shortly. “From what Rose said, he was a good young man, in love and
not long married, and Rose liked him. She always said she’d never heard him
show temper or raise his voice to that little wife of his, he was kind to the
servants in the house, a real gentleman. I’ll tell you the worst part of it;
when the police found Lymington and Rose and searched the house, there was no
sign of Novotny. They say there was no sign of a guest anywhere in the house.
The servants gave evidence that there’d never been a guest, they swore there’d
never been one. And the police swear to me there is no cup, never was a cup,
the glass case in the study doesn’t exist. But my Rose told me many times how
Mrs Lymington hated that cup.”<br />
<br />
Niall reflected, looking through the notes he’d written.<br />
<br />
“What about the valet? Does he confirm Novotny’s presence?”<br />
<br />
“No. He gave a statement to the police never mentioning him, got on the train
with a generous pay out from Mr Lymington senior, and no one’s seen him since.”<br />
<br />
“So you believe he was paid off.”<br />
<br />
“I know from Rose that Lymington Senior knew of Novotny.” Mr Byrne said darkly.
“Met with him often, took him in and out of that house. The man existed. Who
has the money to make a man disappear, Mr Carey? Who has the money to close
people’s mouths?”<br />
<br />
The Lymingtons were indeed a politically powerful family with very deep
pockets.<br />
<br />
“The police tell me there’s no evidence. That maybe Rose just spun me stories.”
Byrne told him. “But I know my daughter. If she told me – for weeks – that
Novotny was in that house, that there was something odd about him, that
Lymington Senior himself met with the man often and that Mrs Lymington was
afraid of him – and the police found no trace of that man or anyone living in
the house on the day they died? Isn’t him being missing evidence in itself? And
that cup. Not just the cup gone, but the whole display case from the study?
Isn’t that evidence too?”<br />
<br />
“Well if it were possible to prove that Novotny existed and lived in that
house… yes, it would be. Not just as a missing witness, but as to why all
traces of him were removed.” Niall tapped his pad with the pen. “This is really
an investigative job for the police.”<br />
<br />
“The police aren’t interested.” Byrne said dully. “The inquest is finished, all
the facts have been found and the matter’s over so they tell me. But my
daughter’s dead, Mr Carey. I know there’s truths to this that are being
hidden.”<br />
<br />
Niall looked down the list of notes again. “Let me think about this Mr Byrne.
Where can I reach you?”<br />
<br />
Bryne took the offered pen and wrote an address on the bottom of the page. It
was a street Niall knew of; an area near the dock. Byrne handed back the pen
and stuck out a hand, waiting until Niall took it to shake.<br />
<br />
“Thank you for listening. That’s more than any other brief’s been willing to
do.”<br />
<br />
“You’re welcome Mr Byrne.”<br />
<br />
Byrne pulled on his wet hat and headed out of the dark doorway into the hall.
The line of his shoulders didn’t suggest he held much hope. There was someone
waiting out there in the shadows by the door, a tall figure in an overcoat with
an umbrella neatly over its arm and an eagle nose. Niall closed the note pad
and put it away in the drawer. The figure in the hall waited politely until Mr
Byrne had reached the street before he came in. Niall took his coat from the
hook, found his hat and turned out the desk light.<br />
<br />
“I’m sorry. I’m all right, that was just a last-minute client.”<br />
<br />
“It sounded rather intense.” James’ eyes were searching although his tone was
calm. “What time did he arrive?”<br />
<br />
“I’m afraid I didn’t notice.”<br />
<br />
That was a compromise between a confession and a gentle evasion. There was a
reason why James walked down to meet him if he was more than a few minutes
late. James came to take his coat from him, helping him into it with the deft
flick at the shoulders that settled it straight.<br />
<br />
“It’s still raining.”<br />
<br />
It was. Close together under James’ umbrella they walked down the long blocks
of wet and shiny sidewalk past the evening traffic and the people headed home.
After years on the ranch, with all its many freedoms, it was still an effort to
remember not to automatically link arms with him. Instead, Niall watched the
headlights of the omnibuses shine off the puddles and heard the clatter of
feet, and kept pace with James down the streets that led to their red brick
block. James shook the umbrella briskly at the top of their steps, unlocked the
door of their apartment building and took Niall’s coat as they walked down the
hall. “Bath first, I think.”<br />
<br />
Their tenement block was more than eighty years old, and the single toilet on
the ground floor was shared with four other apartments. A bath required the
heating of water on the coke stove top in the very large pans they kept for the
purpose, and the tin bath that hung on the wall in the closet. James, who had
never before lived in a house without a bathroom in his life, was surprisingly
good with it. He hadn’t been born to this; to a battered old tenement and an
apartment of three rooms, a shared toilet, a rickety stove that was the heat,
cooking source and a lot of the light source too for the whole apartment, or to
living in the back end of a city, but you’d never know it. There was a
wonderful strength and a pragmatism to James, an ability to get to grips with
the practicalities of life that Niall knew was far tougher than his own; and
some part of James relished the challenge too. In the same way that a man with
the education to be an officer had quietly and determinedly joined the rank and
file against all persuasion. This gently bred Boston boy was far more at home
working a ranch or in his shirt sleeves fixing a filthy and obstinate Victorian
stove in a Chicago tenement than he had ever been in society places, and it was
one of the many things that, in a phrase learned from his father, made Niall
love the bones of him. <br />
<br />
James must have set the water to heat before he left: there were two pans
already hot and a third staying warm in front of the stove. The clatter of the
water falling into the tub from the first pan was loud, steam began to rise.
James helped him out of his jacket, unfastened his tie, and Niall automatically
unbuttoned his shirt. The pattern of the steam rising was hypnotic. James
turned him around to unbutton his trousers and peeled him out of the rest of
his clothes. The bath was small: one sat with one’s knees almost under one’s
chin, but the water was hot and it was comforting. Niall leaned his elbows on
his knees, staring down into it. The warmth helped, and it was only then that
he realised that he hadn’t felt fully warm all day. James took his hand and put
a glass into it. Brandy. A half inch. James had seated himself on a kitchen
chair beside him. He had a glass too. James was the one of them who actually
liked brandy; whenever James handed a glass of it to Niall it was not intended
for enjoyment, but for medicinal and was compulsory. Which meant he wasn’t
fooled in the slightest. Niall obediently took a small sip and shuddered at the
taste. James’ hand slid through his hair, smoothing it down to the nape of his
neck.<br />
<br />
“Interesting client?”<br />
<br />
“I’d have appreciated any client at all, but yes.” Niall turned his cheek
against James’ hand. “I am all right. Just a slow, cold day and too much
sitting. I’m not used to doing nothing.”<br />
<br />
James had put the gramophone on. One of Mozart’s concertos, Niall wouldn’t have
known the name but it was a delicate and gentle flow of a flute against
violins, one of James’ favourite pieces that he liked to work to.<br />
<br />
“So what did this client need?”<br />
<br />
The brandy was helping too. Niall steeled himself to take another sip, feeling
the fog begin to lift from his brain. “Information he believes to be missing
from an inquest. It would be investigative type work. The police, he says, have
either given up or been told to give up. Do you remember young Lymington? The
one who shot himself?”<br />
<br />
“Yes. Some kind of domestic dispute, or so the papers said. Philip vaguely knew
of the family, he was quite…. surprised. The wife was a minor film star I
believe. I remember the pictures of her.”<br />
<br />
Yes. They stuck in Niall’s mind too. A delicate wisp of a girl with large eyes,
curling hair, in a white fur collared coat over a dress that seemed far too
grown up. He’d always thought there had been something fairylike about her.
“Do you remember what happened to her?” he asked James, who frowned,
thinking about it.<br />
<br />
“As far as I recall, the house overlooked the river and Lymington dumped her
body in the water from the window of his room. He shot himself, didn’t he?”<br />
<br />
“Yes. The police had to break down the door to reach him.”<br />
<br />
“Where will you start?”<br />
<br />
“The library. in the morning.” Niall finished the last of the brandy, finally
feeling fully real and together in the heat of the water. Sometimes the
spaciness crept up on him slowly enough that it wasn’t until James got rid of
it that he realised how strong it had been. “It’s not like I have anything
better to do. How did your draft chapter work out?”<br />
<br />
“I’m about half of the way there.” James cupped his cheek, giving him a rather
keen look, then stooped and kissed him. “I’m also starving when you’re ready to
start dinner.”<br />
<br />
That was another of the daily things James had built into Niall’s routine and
brooked no arguments about. Like walking to and from the office, despite the
convenience of the street cars which ran virtually door to door. And while
James, working from the apartment, did much of the cleaning and the grocery
shopping, it was Niall’s responsibility to provide a shopping list for him and
to cook. All practical things that used his body and other parts of his mind,
and which kept his feet firmly – and James did firm extremely well – rooted in
reality. There had been a settling in period of a month that James had insisted
on when they moved to the city, before he would allow Niall to set up his
office. Acclimating. Time for them just to establish a home and routine for
themselves, learn a very different way of life, and prove to themselves that
they could manage out here where there were less people to keep an eye out,
where there were crowded and noisy streets instead of open, quiet land. There
was the most recent letter from Philip on the shelf in the kitchen, with a
paragraph from David who still gruffly called them insane for wanting to be
here instead of Wyoming, but to Niall that was David to the core and deeply
affectionate. The message from both of them was equally strong: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">we’re here if you need us</i>.<br />
<br />
There were times when they were in this dingy brown and battered apartment with
the rain hammering down and the shouts in the street outside, when Niall
thought they were insane for leaving Wyoming too.<br />
<br />
He dried off in front of the stove and dressed in more comfortable clothes
before he fried off the chopped steak and onion James had bought at the market
that morning, stirred it in well-seasoned flour, chopped potatoes and carrots
into the mix, and finished it with salt, pepper and a kettle of boiled water. The
whole pot went into the belly of the stove. That was the one gadget in the
apartment that wasn’t at all temperamental: ever since their first couple of
days here when James had stripped it down, cleaned it out and disciplined it
thoroughly, it did a good job. Years of the ranch, where they’d actively helped
with all the chores in the running of the house from cooking to roofing, had
prepared them well for running their own home. It was something Niall took a
lot of satisfaction in. The stone floors were battered and covered with
scattered rugs from junk shops, the furniture was worn and the whole place was
tiny, but it was theirs.<br />
<br />
James had changed the record on the gramophone; Niall smiled as he washed his
hands, hearing the first few familiar bars behind him.<br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Roll me over in the clover….<br />
<br />
Roll me over, lay me down and do it again!</i><br />
<br />
Niall dried his hands and hung the towel over the back of a chair. It was all
one room in here, just floor space between the kitchen table by the stove and
sink, and the two armchairs and the battered old love seat by James’s desk at
the window. James held out a hand to Niall.<br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Now this is number one and the fun has
just begun</i><br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Roll me over, lay me down and do it again</i><br />
<br />
Niall took his hand and fell into step with him from long practice, James was a
wonderful dancer and they could have jived together in their sleep. Hours and
hours of dancing in the kitchen at the ranch, years of it, since Wade and
Charlie loved it too. And it wasn’t possible to jive with James without giving it
your full attention, feeling the speed and the rush pass through you, and the
sheer joy of being alive with him. </span></p>
<h1>Part 2</h1>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The city library provided the archived newspapers with
the articles and the pictures. Mr Burke Lymington and his new bride, Miss Sylvia
Varren. First the pictures of them in bridal gear, and to Niall’s eye they
looked shyly happy together on the steps of the church: the young man who had
been considered the most eligible bachelor in the city and his fairytale
Hollywood bride; the press had loved them. The news of the exotic honeymoon
followed, as did the many entries in the society pages: Mr Lymington senior
with his youngest son and daughter in law at the elite city events he hosted.
And then the headlines. Tycoon’s son in murder-suicide. Youngest son of John
Lymington shoots himself after murdering wife. Niall read on through the
newspaper reports of the inquest. The police had broken in through a locked
bedroom door, alerted by a distressed house servant. Lymington was found dead
from a single shot to the head, the gun in his hand. His wife’s body was in the
river. There was no mention anywhere of Rose.<br />
<br />
Still turning over the information in his mind and wondering if it was worth
trying to access the inquest records themselves, Niall took several streetcars
through the busy morning city to the address of the house.<br />
<br />
Like all of the Lymington properties in Chicago, it was opulent. Expensive.
Backing onto the river, it was one among a small neighbourhood of grey brick
mansions with high gates and railings, pillars and columns by the doors and
immaculately cut and kept lawns. One or two of the mansions had gardeners in
view, sweeping up the last of the fall leaves, and most had Christmas wreaths
on the gates and on the door. The many windows were polished and glittering in
thin winter sun. Except for the Lymington house. That one alone had the
curtains closed, and when Niall looked through the bars of the gate, the
doorknocker had been removed. So the house was still in the ownership of Mr Lymington
senior, and standing unoccupied. Across the drive, a man came out of a garage
and closed the door. From his clothes, he was another gardener or caretaker.
Niall signalled until the man saw him and walked across to the gates. Elderly.
Cold, from the look of him. Niall pulled a card from his pocket.<br />
<br />
“Good morning. Niall Carey. I’m an attorney, looking into some details for an
investigation. Are there any staff resident in the house?”<br />
<br />
“Not now.” The man glanced at the card and handed it back. “Inquest’s over.”<br />
<br />
“This is about Rose Byrne. There’s a few things still outstanding I need to
check on.”<br />
<br />
The man’s face changed at once, from disinterest to something gentle. “I knew
Rose.”<br />
<br />
“Was she well-liked by the staff?” Niall asked on impulse.<br />
<br />
“She was a real nice lady,” the man said sincerely. “She barely got a mention
by the police, what with everything else that happened. I’m glad someone’s
thinking of her.”<br />
<br />
Well that was a cue that here was a member of the household staff who thought
Rose had received less justice than she deserved. <br />
<br />
“I’m here just for Rose.” Niall assured him. “Is there anyone resident in the
house? Anyone who could show me what I need to see?”<br />
<br />
He was taking liberties here, making it up as he went along, but when you’d
investigated… many of the things he’d been part of investigating after the war,
proportionally most things felt simple.<br />
<br />
“Only me.” The man glanced up at the house. “I do a walk around, once every
week or so, check all the pipes are secure, windows secure, that sort of thing.
I guess I can show you around while I do it.”<br />
<br />
“Thank you.” Niall stood back to let the man open the gates. “You’re the
caretaker? Mr….?”<br />
<br />
“Yates.” The man locked the gates behind them and walked with Niall up the
drive. “John Yates. I am now. I was the chauffer and groundsman until the house
was closed up. I oversee a couple of gardeners a couple of times a week.”<br />
<br />
“The cars are still in the garage?” Niall paused by the garage, looking through
the window. A Crysler. A Jaguar. Immaculate cars, side by side. Burke Lymington
had liked fast cars.<br />
<br />
“Everything’s here,” Yates said bleakly. “Mr Lymington Senior’s given no
instructions about the house contents. I don’t think he’s got the heart to. I
had orders to pay off the staff, close up the house and keep the property in
good order. That was it. The paycheck keeps on coming. I guess I’ll do it until
he decides otherwise.” He opened a side door to the house. “What do you need to
see?”<br />
<br />
The furniture was under dust sheets, and the carpets were soft underfoot. It
was cold, the hallways were long and ornate and in the heart of the house – was
a wide staircase, sweeping up to the first floor. The steps were quite shallow,
thickly carpeted in the same red as the hall. On the landing at the top, Mr
Yates paused. “Rose was found here.”<br />
<br />
“I was told she fell down the stairs.”<br />
<br />
“Well not really. Strictly speaking, her legs were on the landing, she was face
downwards laying on the first few stairs here. The police said she ran up the
stairs when she heard the gunshot, slipped and fell.”<br />
<br />
From Yates’ neutral tone, Niall gathered what he thought about it and voiced
his own reservation. “And somehow managed to fall face downwards, head
downwards, facing back the way she’d come.” He tested the slip of the carpet.
“Do you know where her headwound was?”<br />
<br />
“I saw it.” Yates said grimly. “Here.” He tapped the side of his forehead.<br />
<br />
Well possibly from a strike on the bannister, but unlikely from falling on a
thickly carpeted stair or landing. Niall nodded at the door ahead of them. “Is
that Mr Lymington’s room?”<br />
<br />
“Well. It was officially their room but in truth that was Mrs Lymington’s room,
separate rooms being fashionable, or so I’m told. Mr Lymington had a room of
his own, other side of the hall, but I heard he mostly spent nights here with
her.”<br />
<br />
“What about Rose’s room?”<br />
<br />
It was up another flight of servants’ stairs at the back of the house, several
doors leading off a linoleum hallway. Mr Yates opened the third door along.<br />
<br />
“The rest of the staff took their things when they left. Rose’s things are
still here. I haven’t known what to do with them.”<br />
<br />
“I’m in touch with her father. I can see they get to her family.” The room was
sparse, there wasn’t much there. A couple of black dresses hung in the closet,
alongside a couple of brighter dresses and a coat that must have been for her
days off. A hat box held a single hat. A hairbrush and mirror lay side by side
on a vanity stand by the bed, alongside several magazines. Rose had liked to
read about fashion and film stars. Niall folded the whole contents into the hat
box. Mr Yates watched in silence from the doorway. The bedspread and pillow
were neatly arranged on the bed: Rose had left her room that morning as usual,
and never returned.<br />
<br />
“Rose mentioned a man staying here.” Niall said as they left her room and Yates
closed the door behind them. “A Mr Novotny. The servants apparently denied all
knowledge of him, but Rose mentioned him a number of times, and that Mrs
Lymington was afraid of him.”<br />
<br />
Yates looked deeply uncomfortable. Niall watched him, with a long history of
talking to terrified, intimidated people with information they were unsure
about sharing.<br />
<br />
“May I see the guest room?” he said neutrally and mildly. That left it in
Yates’ hands. After a moment Yates nodded.<br />
<br />
The room Yates took him to was one of the family guest chambers. So an
important man, as Rose had explained. It was bare of any personal belongings. A
large, high bed with carved wooden bedposts and an expensive quilt. A thick
rug. Niall gently opened the wardrobe and then the bedside table cupboard and
drawers. There was nothing there. Not so much as a scrap of paper.<br />
<br />
“How old was he?” he said lightly to Yates. Yates had his arms folded, he
looked wary.<br />
<br />
“Maybe – forty? Forty five? Looked like he’d been fit once but getting seedy.”<br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">So you do want to tell me</i>.<br />
<br />
“Did he travel with a valet, or did Mr Lymington’s valet take care of him?”
Niall asked, thinking of the complicated arrangements on the occasions he’d
visited James’ parents at their home which was not so very different to this
one. Yates nodded slowly.<br />
<br />
“Mr Lymington’s valet looked after him.”<br />
<br />
“Are you still in touch with Mr Lymington’s valet?”<br />
<br />
“No. He’s long gone. Hadn’t been here that long, only a few months before Mr
and Mrs Lymington died.”<br />
<br />
“What did he think of Mr Novotny?”<br />
<br />
The man looked even more uncomfortable. “Didn’t like him. Nobody did. Something
creepy about him, the way he watched and smiled… nasty piece of work. Treated
servants like dirt. The valet did tell me once, he brought some fresh shirts
upstairs to put in Mr Novotny’s room. Mr Novotny was dressing. He had a scar in
an odd place. Here.” He touched his arm. Niall’s gaze sharpened, his stomach
jolted hard but he kept his tone neutral.<br />
<br />
“Underneath of his upper arm. Was it the left side?”<br />
<br />
“Yes. Looked like a gunshot scar.”<br />
<br />
…..<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">it probably was</i>.<br />
<br />
Niall swallowed carefully, surprised at the rush passing through him. It was a
familiar rush. A mix of determination, rage and… the kind of automatic bolt of
energy that probably a hunting dog felt when it caught the scent.<br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Here? Here in Chicago, with a maid who
fell on the stairs?</i><br />
<br />
“What about the cup?” he asked Yates. “Rose talked about the cup. Did Novotny
take it with him?”<br />
<br />
“It was a beautiful thing.” Yates led him down the hall and opened the door.
The white sheets covered the table, but the room was a library. “I don’t know
where it went. All I heard downstairs from the servants was that it was gone,
like it was never there. It was on that table, the table was kept under the
window with a glass case on it and the cup inside. Novotny spent hours in here
with it.”<br />
<br />
“Would he have taken the case?”<br />
<br />
“I don’t know. Someone cleared his room. Someone took away the glass and the
cup. I never saw who did it, and I never heard from any of the servants if they
knew.”<br />
<br />
“And you and the other servants were asked never to mention it.” Niall said
quietly. “I understand, Mr Yates. I’m only seeking information on what may have
happened to Rose.”<br />
<br />
They walked together down the landing, and at the door of Lymington’s room,
Yates paused, then pushed the door open. “That was where it happened. He was on
the floor here with the gun.”<br />
<br />
“And Mrs Lymington?” Niall looked with him into the room. Large. Beautifully
decorated, an enormous bed, several lamps. Two large picture windows. “She was
found in the river, wasn’t she?”<br />
<br />
“The window was open and her blood was on the sill, but her body wasn’t found.”
Yates said bleakly. “Poor little thing. She was probably washed out to sea
before the police even got to the house.”<br />
<br />
It was terrible to think of that beautiful young couple from the newspapers
ending like this. Niall took a step back, keeping his voice even. “I’ve seen
everything I need to see, thank you very much for your time. I’ll make sure
Rose’s belongings reach her family.”<br />
<br />
He took the box back to his office in the basement. And there he sat with his
coat and hat still on, his mind buzzing, information gathering and organising
itself in familiar and awful patterns. This was too familiar a story; he knew
its path too well. And then following the strongest impulse, he got up, went
out onto the street and took the streetcar west. The county clerk’s office was
a massive, grey fronted building and in a quiet office, a junior clerk searched
out some materials for him.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The asylum
had once been on a remote prairie outside of the city. These days it was
getting rapidly swallowed up by the city. It had a reputation; Niall had heard
it. Parents muttering half jokingly to their kids, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Behave or I’ll have you sent to Dunning</i>. It had been under a
different name now for forty years, but to the locals it was still Dunning.
There were a list of possible places, theoretical places, but from the rumours
alone…. Niall had learned young and in a hard school exactly how to listen to
rumour, how to pick up the hints that told you where the very worst of the
worst lay, because it was almost inevitably your target. The place was
surrounded by high fences, and the large and heavy gothic buildings looked like
a prison. It was necessary to be firm with the guards on duty at the gate house
and then again with the person on duty in the front office, but years in the
army equipped you for that. Niall got what he wanted.<br />
<br />
Records were checked in large, heavy and handwritten log books. Dates were
checked, another list was provided. Niall took the long route back across the
city, stepped off the streetcar a mile from home and walked the rest of the
way. A brass band was playing on one of the main street corners, sending Silent
Night travelling across the street amongst the sounds of passing street cars. A
lone Santa tolled his bell outside the department store.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
James looked up from his desk and smiled, pen resting in his hand.<br />
<br />
“Good afternoon. You’re early. How was work?”<br />
<br />
“You mean ‘did I have any’?”<br />
<br />
He heard James chuckle, felt James take the coat from his shoulders. “Did you?”<br />
<br />
“Yes.”<br />
<br />
“Your yesterday client again?”<br />
<br />
Niall put down his keys with care, aware of the words sticking on his tongue.
It was not easy to talk about. It had never been easy to talk about. He hovered
over James’ desk instead, looking down at the neatly written pages of notes
arranged in order. “You have most of the chapters planned.”<br />
<br />
“Niall?”<br />
<br />
Yes. Niall dragged himself together with an effort, went into the kitchen and
drew out one of the rickety wooden chairs at the table they’d found in a junk
shop a few weeks ago. James put the kettle on the hob, watching him. In the
watchful way that always made Niall feel safe and yet at the same time sent his
stomach tumbling for the same reason: that James could read him like a book.
Niall drew a long breath, looking at his hands on the scarred tabletop in front
of him.<br />
<br />
“The man who came into my office yesterday believes his daughter died in suspicious
circumstances during the Lymington incident. The inquest is complete. He
believes there’s evidence withheld.”<br />
<br />
“Police incompetence or corruption?”<br />
<br />
“That was his question. I went to the house today.”<br />
<br />
“I believed it was standing empty.” James took the seat opposite him, his eyes
serious. Niall gave him a slow nod.<br />
<br />
“It is. The groundsman was there. He was the chauffeur when the Lymingtons
lived there. He showed me around the house.”<br />
<br />
Oh James knew all about the stories like this. The talking to people. The
driving out to towns, to villages, to abandoned houses in expensive grounds,
the finding the people who had seen and pointed out the disturbed ground, the
cellars, the places where the dark things happened. They both knew all about
this.<br />
<br />
“Did you find out anything?”<br />
<br />
“Corroboration, although word of mouth, that the Lymingtons had a guest.” Niall
had lowered his voice instinctively. “Who had a gunshot scar. Left upper arm.
Underside.”<br />
<br />
James stared at him. He knew what that meant. As well as Niall knew it. James
had seen it first hand as many times as he had.<br />
<br />
“So it looks,” Niall went on quietly to him, “bearing in mind the family
concerned, that a felony was committed on their watch, under their eye, and
it’s one that no one can admit to.”<br />
<br />
There was a long silence while they sat there together at the scarred table.
Then James said just as quietly, “What are you going to do with this
information?”<br />
<br />
“I’m really not sure.” Niall said honestly. “There’s some leg work I need to do
tomorrow. Fact checking. We’re leaving in a few days anyway, the whole city is
closing for the holidays, I need some time to think.”<br />
<br />
“….As a case to begin on,” James said very dryly. Niall sighed.<br />
<br />
“It’s the worst possible one it could be. Yes, I know. It’s familiar work. I
hadn’t expected quite how familiar.”<br />
<br />
“No one would blame you if you closed it and walked away this time.”<br />
<br />
“Oh how can I?” Niall said impatiently. “Who else in this city is going to have
the experience behind them to recognise this? That is probably what the powers
that be are banking on. A girl died. If… this is what it may be, then there’s a
duty to bring this, even more so for me because I do know exactly what’s
involved. And I know you understand.”<br />
<br />
“Yes, I understand. I could wish I didn’t.” James surveyed him. Niall gave him
a wry shrug.<br />
<br />
“In at the deep end.”<br />
<br />
“Very well. Then we will make plans for how we deal with it.” James leaned on
the table, his hands clasping in the way he did with his index fingers touched
and pointed forward. It always made Niall think of the children’s rhyme: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">here is the church and here is the steeple…
here is James about to lay down the law</i>. “I expect you to be extremely
careful. You are going to have to follow our routine exactly. You are going to
have to be even more aware of yourself, and of knowing when it is time to
manage yourself. That means not getting too tired. Not pushing too far. Not
ignoring the signs. You must be sure that you know when it is time to stop and
come home. Do you understand me?”<br />
<br />
“Yes sir.”<br />
<br />
“And that means I will make no allowance for mistakes.”<br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">We cannot afford them. Not here</i>. Niall
nodded, not exactly welcoming it, but it was reassurance all the same.<br />
<br />
“I know.”<br />
<br />
“Then I think the first thing you can do is change and scrub this floor.” James
got up, unknotting Niall’s tie for him. “After which we’ll go for a walk, and
then we’ll make dinner.”<br />
<br />
Yes. Something physical, active and real would help. He was right. Niall
surrendered his tie and stretched up to kiss him.<br />
<br />
“Put some music on? Something lively. I could use the lift.”<br />
<br />
In bed that night, which was an iron bedstead in their tiny room that almost
filled it, Niall curled tighter against James beneath the heavy weight of
blankets and quilts that the thin and draughty glass windows demanded in winter.
They’d left the door wide open to the warmth of the stove in the main room; it
would be some hours yet before the dampened fire went out, but the wind and the
drive of sleet rattled the panes outside. This was not the stolid stability of
the ranch house, built to withstand weather scorching across the pastures,
where other loved men were a mere room away. Here there was just them. As there
had been in Nuremberg, on the nights when Niall had sat by the river and let
himself fade out into nothing but the dark water running past and James close
against him. The wind had rattled the panes like this in his Nuremberg billet.
He remembered it all too well.</span></p>
<h1>Part 3</h1>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It took him the entire day, which was filled with
steadily falling sleet, to check on every name and address in that list.
Knocking on doors, talking to families and neighbours, ensuring that the person
of that address had been known there. It was familiar work; the memories that
came with it were hard to avoid.<br />
<br />
Getting increasingly wet and cold, Niall found one sad story after another, but
the dates he was asking about were recent and the information came readily
enough. Name after name linked up to a known person with a history, with
connections, with a past. In each street, he listened, met men, women and
children, heard about the lives of the people who had been directly affected,
and he’d learned long ago to listen without adding the burden of sympathy or
anything trite. Through the ruins of Nuremberg, through the ruined towns and
villages, the farms, the mines he’d done this… as he left the fourth address he
caught himself trying to dig his hands into the pocket of an army great coat he
hadn’t worn in years, and stopped on the street corner. He recognised the sense
of slowly growing fog when he thought about it. The gradual sense of stepping
away inside. The signs that it was getting too much. Being cold made it worse;
the sleet wasn’t helping. Being tired was one of the biggest causes. Worrying
was another. Things that stimulated those memories.<br />
<br />
But this case was inevitably going to do that; James was right. <br />
<br />
Swearing under his breath, Niall turned up his collar and gave it a few minutes
careful thought. By James’ rules, if he had noticed it happening then he needed
to stop everything and deal with it. Which meant going directly to where James
was. This was not the ranch where there was a group of them who knew about his
occasional… issues… , knew how to help if needed and who kept an experienced
eye out for him if he was gone longer than expected. Nor was this city the safe
land of the ranch. Here there was only them, on unfamiliar territory. And James
certainly expected to be obeyed. <br />
<br />
On the other hand, the whole point of moving to this city was to work. To prove
that he could. And the drive to know the information he was seeking was eating
at him like acid. Niall consulted his list. There were six more addresses to
try. A single day’s work. Reaching a decision, Niall made himself quicken his
pace, pull himself together, and walked on to the next address. It had to be
possible to do this; it was merely a matter of being firm enough with himself.<br />
<br />
The walk was long, he made his way through much of the rougher districts near
the docks, and he’d worked through seven of those names and verified them when
he struck a blank with the eighth. The address held a mother with a number of
young children who explained they’d lived in the house for three years and her
husband was at work. She didn’t know the name he was asking after. Neighbours
had never heard of the name and confirmed it: no one by that name had lived at
that address or any other in the area within the past three years. Names nine
and ten checked out without difficulty when Niall moved on to them. It was only
the eighth.<br />
<br />
The sleet was getting heavier. Chilled to the point he was no longer fully
feeling his feet, Niall walked away from address number ten. It was only about
a mile and a half home from here; a walk he’d have thought nothing of at the
ranch. He started in that general direction with his hands dug deep in his
pockets and his collar turned up. Nine sad stories, and one blank. The human
drift of life, he’d seen plenty of it. The dispossessed, the lost, the
displaced, the traumatised. The ones so far from home that they no longer had
any idea where they were or how to go back. The ones who had lost everything
and had nothing to return to. He remembered many of their names. He remembered
many of their faces. He remembered all of their voices.<br />
<br />
The traffic was loud. Twilight was fast approaching. This deep into winter it
came early now, and despite the Christmas lights in the stores he passed, the
gloom still closed in. Somewhere within that gloom it grew too much of a weight
to carry, and he paused and sat down on a stoop to rest. Just to rest. Just to
take a moment’s respite where it could all go by without him. The lights from
the cars shone in the puddles.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The arm that closed around his shoulders was muscled and firm, and came with a
cheerful, familiar voice in his ear. “Get up, Ni.”<br />
<br />
It drew him to his feet, made him stand there and forced him to start walking.
Initially it dragged him for the first few steps, then his legs began to
respond and walking became easier. It was dark. Not just twilight but properly
dark, and the sleet shone against the street lamps. The walking went on for a
long time. Several times he tried to sit down on a friendly step and sink back
into the quiet, and each time the arm around him resisted and that voice told
him again, No. Keep walking, they were nearly home. Keep walking.<br />
<br />
There were running feet somewhere, feet clattering on the sidewalk and another
voice sounding resigned and exasperated. “I knew it. Just sit in the snow and
stare in sub zero temperatures, why don’t you?” Someone ducked under his other
arm. Someone short and sturdy, and the arm that wrapped around his waist was
tight. “Argh, he’s well gone, isn’t he? Where did you find him?”<br />
<br />
“About three blocks away. He’s ok, don’t panic. He’ll be fine once he’s warm.”<br />
<br />
He was forced up steps. Doors clicked. There was warmth, nearly unbearable
warmth and bright lights. Strong and competent hands stripped off his wet
clothes, towelled him down, and very firmly refused to let him sit down when he
tried.<br />
<br />
“I can’t find the brandy,” the short voice complained. “I can’t find anything.
This isn’t an apartment, it’s a closet.”<br />
<br />
“It’s a city and it’s the right district.”<br />
<br />
“A <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">leaking</i> closet.”<br />
<br />
“Shut it. No, stand up Niall,” the voice added as Niall tried again to let his
knees buckle. The tone didn’t brook argument. A towel was scouring over his
back, down his legs, Niall was vaguely aware but couldn’t feel much of it. The
door clicked again and then James was there, Niall felt the brush of James’
wet, sleet covered coat as James’ hands closed on him.<br />
<br />
“There you are.”<br />
<br />
“Where do you keep the brandy in this rabbit hutch, Jimbo?” the short voice
inquired.<br />
<br />
“In the decanter on the shelf over there.”<br />
<br />
“I’ll get that bath filled.” the competent towel scourer moved away and James’s
arms came around him, James’ chest was against his face. Niall put both arms
around his waist.<br />
<br />
“You’re wet.”<br />
<br />
“Hi kettle, this is pot. We’re all wet. We’ve been running around the district
for the past hour looking for you.” The short voice included a glass of brandy
arriving at his mouth with more efficiency than tact. Niall took a far larger
gulp than he’d intended, and choked.<br />
<br />
“That’s a boy,” the short voice approved. “One more like that,”<br />
<br />
“Get <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">off</i>.” Clutching James,
Niall choked again on the second vigorous slop of brandy tipped against his
mouth and swallowed hard. It burned. It stung his nose and sinuses, and
scorched down his throat, but his head cleared in one rush. Wade grinned at
him.<br />
<br />
“Hello. Life in the big city going really well, I see.”<br />
<br />
“Bath’s full.” The taller, broad chested towel scourer came back to them,
giving Niall a friendly smile that held no criticism for his being soaked,
stripped and shivering like a dog. Muscular, with warm eyes below hair that was
wild from the evening weather, he was an equally wonderful sight.<br />
<br />
“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Charlie</i>.” Niall freed an arm from
James and hugged him, fumbling to kiss the roughness of his cheek. “Where did
you two come from?”<br />
<br />
“We thought we’d stop by on the way to the ranch.” Wade told him. “Weird
geography, but we can live with it.”<br />
<br />
“We took the train up.” Charlie added for Niall’s benefit. “Thought we’d see
how you were doing, check out your new apartment and fly out with you.”<br />
<br />
Mostly because Wade loathed planes and flying, and it was likely going to take
Charlie and James together to get him through it. Niall found Wade and hugged
him too. Wade gave him a crushing squeeze in return, snorting as Niall’s wet
hair came into contact with him.<br />
<br />
“Yuck, get off. Your hair was practically frozen-”<br />
<br />
“It was wet.” There was the sound of a brisk swat and Charlie sounded firm,
“That was all. Stop winding James up, it’s not funny.”<br />
<br />
“Turning blue, I tell you, lips and fingers purest navy – ok, ok I’m done!”<br />
<br />
“Get in the bath,” James guided Niall towards the bath steaming on the floor
tiles by the stove. “And then perhaps you can greet guests while not naked,
which would be an improvement.”<br />
<br />
“I don’t know, I’m for it personally.” Wade flopped into one of their
armchairs. “It’s a conversation point.”<br />
<br />
The bath was initially uncomfortably hot, and his feet smarted painfully as
they defrosted, but within a couple of minutes Niall was pink like a lobster,
considerably warmer, and the apartment felt crowded, noisy, busy and blissfully
comfortable. James said nothing much other than basic directions, but he took
the sponge and scrubbed Niall thoroughly until he was warmed through. He
presented pyjamas when Niall got out of the bath. Warmed pyjamas too, although
possibly not warmed in the way he suspected that James might have liked to have
warmed them tonight under the circumstances.<br />
<br />
“There’s no need for pyjamas, it’s barely seven pm.” Niall pointed out. James
helped him into the pyjama jacket, taking little notice.<br />
<br />
“Socks.”<br />
<br />
“In fact a sweater and cords would be warmer anyway,”<br />
<br />
His dressing gown was fitted around his shoulders. Niall belted it.<br />
<br />
“The relative thickness of-”<br />
<br />
“Are you lawyering already?” Wade demanded. “Hint: when you’re in a hole, stop
digging.”<br />
<br />
“There’s a bakery down the street, they stay open late, can you two walk down
there and find supper?” James handed Charlie their door keys in a way that
Niall found distinctly sinister. The hint of ‘I would like a few minutes alone
with Niall please’ was strong. “That one for the main door, that one for this
door.”<br />
<br />
“Gotcha.” Charlie pocketed the keys, dug one handed in the travel bag beside
the armchair and handed James something about two thirds of a foot long, flat
and… Wade jerked upright in his chair as Niall’s eyes widened in shock. Neither
James nor Charlie ever tended to be tactful about this kind of thing, they were
about as blunt as each other when it came to the crunch, but the item in James’
hand was rather different to the wooden paddle they’d known at the ranch. That
one was a plain, solid and varnished wooden paddle, in a sober coloured wood.
This one…it was about half an inch thick, the blade below the handle was about
six inches wide and the length of a man’s hand, but there was a cheerful
picture in colour on one side of a longhorn steer with a cowboy on a horse, a
cactus and several stars, painted onto the wood under the layer of varnish. On
the other side of the flat was the legend in red: ‘Texas Tail Blazer’, etched
in someone’s cursive handwriting. There was nothing remotely discreet or sober
about it.<br />
<br />
“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What</i>!” Wade said in horror.
“Where did you get that?”<br />
<br />
“I think that might fit with what you were asking me for,” Charlie said to
James, taking no notice of Wade. “I know the guy who makes them, it’s a good
store.” Charlie took Wade’s arm, yanking him up out of the chair. “We’ll be back
in a while.”<br />
<br />
“You can’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">do</i> that! They’re
not supposed to be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">cute</i>!
Never <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">cute</i>!” Wade sounded
outraged as Charlie collected their jackets and pushed Wade ahead of him out
into the hall. Despite the flip flopping of his stomach Niall could hear Wade
ranting about it all the way to the street. James tapped the paddle briskly on
his palm, examining it.<br />
<br />
“Well this appears relatively efficient. I believe we’ll give it a try.”<br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">You’ve been asking Charlie to find you a
paddl</i>e?!<br />
<br />
All right, honestly, Niall had expected that living alone would probably result
in them owning one sooner or later to deal with more serious issues; both he
and Wade were very familiar with the ranch one and Niall was reluctantly
prepared to admit that it was going to be an inevitably necessary part of life.
But this was…. a whole lot sooner than he’d been prepared for.<br />
<br />
“There was not, precisely speaking, intent-” Niall began, and it was amazing
how the sight of that paddle pulled the legal training right out of him. The
purpose being written directly on the paddle in friendly letters somehow had a
very acute effect indeed. James interrupted gently and without compunction.<br />
<br />
“At what point did you realise you were struggling, darling?”<br />
<br />
“I was not struggling, I made an informed choice,” Niall began, watching in
growing alarm as James drew out a kitchen chair, positioning it well clear of
any obstacles.<br />
<br />
“Excellent. I’m making a similarly informed choice, and it is going to involve
a spanking. Come along Niall, please.”<br />
<br />
Very unwillingly, Niall went to him. James took a seat and briskly took the
waistband of his pyjama pants, tugging them with distressing efficiency down to
where they pooled around his ankles.<br />
<br />
“I should take your dressing gown off if I were you. You may get a little
warm.”<br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">No, really?</i><br />
<br />
Resisting the urge to argue that, which with his pants around his ankles wasn’t
something he had the stuffing left for anyway, Niall shrugged off his dressing
gown and James took his arm, guiding Niall over his knee. Niall fidgeted there,
horribly aware of the unfamiliar, awful paddle in James’ hand, and he jumped as
James turned up his pyjama jacket and laid the paddle across his bottom. It
felt lighter than the ranch one did. Slightly narrower. It was in all sincerity
considerably less sinister than the ranch one in appearance, but any implement
in James’ hand while in this position was something Niall had serious concerns
about. James tapped it gently where it rested.<br />
<br />
“Cold. Wet. Tired. In a situation that couldn’t have been more reminiscent.
When did you know you should have stopped, Niall?”<br />
<br />
“…..about eleven am.” Niall admitted.<br />
<br />
“How far had you travelled by then?”<br />
<br />
“…. The first four visits.” Laying over James’ lap with his hands just in reach
of the floor, Niall was aware of his voice drifting slightly higher. The tap of
the paddle behind him was not conducive to calm. “I thought if I concentrated,”<br />
<br />
“You thought that you wanted the information and so did not want to stop.”
James corrected mildly. “I will be very glad to provide you with a stronger
reason to stop yourself as frequently as required, Niall. Obedience is what I
require here, not work ethic.”<br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Whatever else you may find important, you
obey me first</i>. Yes, that was a fairly fundamental rule, and not by any
means their first review of it. Niall shut his eyes as the paddle tapped again,
trying hard not to clench as in his experience that was never helpful.<br />
<br />
“Yes sir.”<br />
<br />
The paddle snapped briskly across the middle of his behind, which was where
James usually started a spanking. Niall jumped, his eyes and mouth opening with
the equally brisk and shocked yelp dragged out of him. The wretched, cartooned
thing packed less punch than the ranch’s paddle, in fact it slapped far more
than it walloped, but it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">stung</i> like
a line of bees. At the second, lower thwack he found his hand clenching in the
effort not to fly back and rub at the maddening smart, and before James had
covered all the available ground once, he was squirming involuntarily and
yelping and squeaking without being able to stop himself. There was no dignity
to the wretched thing at all. None. And the surface sting just grew more and
more heated and unbearable, it was so horribly <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">childish</i>, and somehow that was worse. It just stole all the self
control he had. Any legalities, any training, any case, in fact anything at
all, disappeared. There was nothing but here and now, over James’ lap being
spanked, and the need to twist around and yell as James applied that horrible
paddle, and to deeply and bitterly regret being stupid enough to have talked
himself into breaking those rules this morning. James always took his own sweet
time about this and did a steady and a thorough job without missing an inch.
When James paused, Niall was out of breath and sweating, and his bottom felt on
fire with that maddening heat and sting.<br />
<br />
“Do you feel I have sufficiently rearranged your priorities?” James inquired
politely above him. Niall spared a hand from the floor to push his hair out of
his eyes, resisting the urge to grab behind him with both hands and rub.<br />
<br />
“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Yes</i> sir!”<br />
<br />
“Because I feel it important to be convincing about this. It is winter in a
very large city, Niall. Sitting on the street for several hours in the snow
with no idea of your surroundings when I have little idea of where to find you
if you need help, is neither safe nor sustainable. In fact it is one of the few
things that would compel me to return us to Wyoming.”<br />
<br />
….which would be fair enough, really. With his behind on fire and still
squirming slightly in the vain hope of that awful sting easing, Niall shut his
eyes, abruptly aware too of how selfish this morning’s decision had been. It
was not only for him that they had come to Chicago. It was not only him
affected if they were forced to leave, and it was appalling that he had
forgotten that even for a moment.<br />
<br />
“I always think if I try hard enough I can <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">make</i> it work,” he said as sincerely as he could with very
little breath, not as an excuse but as a genuine attempt to explain himself as
hurting James was not something he would ever willingly do.<br />
<br />
“I know you do.” There was real compassion in James’s voice, he wasn’t unaware
or unsympathetic. “However is it truly in your power to control this by will?”<br />
<br />
“……no.”<br />
<br />
“It is controlled how?”<br />
<br />
“By stopping and dealing with it.” Niall admitted heavily. “Early.”<br />
<br />
“Indeed. And you do not have to choose to do that, you merely have to obey me.”<br />
<br />
Yes. It was at heart, that simple. Simple did not mean the same thing as easy,
but it was simple.<br />
<br />
“Yes sir.”<br />
<br />
“Then let’s ensure that you are able to remember that.”<br />
<br />
James had rarely ever finished a spanking when he paused to talk; he tended to
get your attention thoroughly first, then discuss things, and then underline
his main points, but Niall’s heart sank all the same. This time that wretched
paddle drew tears, less for that abysmal sting so much as having let James
down.<br />
<br />
Charlie and Wade were gone a tactfully long time. By the time they returned,
Niall had resumed a state of ordered clothing and was standing with his hands
clasped on his head in the one empty corner their tiny apartment room
possessed, which was the one at the other side of the kitchen. Neither Wade nor
Charlie looked twice; this was normality for all of them and until quite
recently they’d shared a home together.<br />
<br />
“We found bagels,” Wade announced, dropping the bag on the table, “Still hot,
and pie.”<br />
<br />
“I’ll make coffee.” There was the clink as James filled the coffee pot and
began to assemble plates, knives and forks.<br />
<br />
“James, are you two really going to manage out here?” Charlie asked.<br />
<br />
“In this rabbit hutch?” Wade added.<br />
<br />
“I meant more that you’re not always going to have three people to search ten
block grids in the dark.” Charlie rarely sounded serious, but he did now. He
was right; it was pure luck that James had had them here tonight for help, and
the shame of it was burning. With three ex service men, all of them young, fit,
active, used to walking miles over rough territory, and two of them now
experienced cops: tonight hadn’t been much of a challenge If James had been alone…<br />
<br />
“I still say you need to come to Corpus Christi with us.” Wade said shortly.
“For God’s sake, if you’ve got to have city life, come on. We’d love it, and
we’d be right there if you needed us. Come find somewhere to live that isn’t
Victorian, with better weather, and our door up the street to bang on when you
need help.”<br />
<br />
“We’re still settling in here, and we shall be fine.” James’s hands rested on
Niall’s shoulders, and the weight of them was as comforting as the certainty in
his voice. “This is where we chose to be, we had our reasons, and Niall and I
need time to see how we can make it work.”</span></p>
<h1>Part 4</h1>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">There was snow visible for miles on the ground before
they landed in Jackson, and it was snowing steadily as they walked out of the
airport. The dark haired, tall man leaning against the truck outside, was
hatless and oblivious to the snow. No weather ever had much effect on him. Wade
whooped and jogged to him, crashing into the man with all his strength to hug
him hard. Niall felt the helpless smile break out across his face as David
looked up for him. Bright, lively eyes, the heat of his smile, there was
something about David that reached out through snow and fog and anything else
this world could come up with. David let Wade go, walked around the truck to
him and Niall buried himself in David’s powerful arms and hugged him.<br />
<br />
“I missed you. It is so good to see you.” <br />
<br />
“How long did it take you to get Wade on a plane?” David muttered in Niall’s
ear. Niall laughed, keeping his voice the same soft tone for David’s ears only.<br />
<br />
“They just grabbed him, one arm each, and pulled. We were fine.”<br />
<br />
“James.” David gripped James’ hand hard, and reached over for Charlie’s. “Get
in the truck, it’s bloody cold out here.”<br />
<br />
“If you wore a hat, you might find that less of a problem.” Charlie
affectionately dusted the snow off David’s hair as they piled into the truck.
Five of them were not a good fit, and it took Wade on Charlie’s lap to squash
them all in.<br />
<br />
“I’m not sure this is the safest way to travel.” James commented, locking an
arm around Niall and gripping the door with his other hand as David pulled out
of the car lot. David snorted.<br />
<br />
“No one else on the road today, we’re ahead of the heavy snow but we’ll have
several feet of it by tonight.”<br />
<br />
He was right. It was coming down with increasing force as they drove through
the forest. The road was deeply familiar, the evergreens under snow were deeply
familiar, Niall felt his chest start to unknot for the first time in a few
days. He loved this place. He and James both deeply loved this place, it had
been very hard to leave it.<br />
<br />
“Who’s been helping out at home?” he asked David, and he realised then that
home was still here, far more than Chicago was. David gave him a swift grin.<br />
<br />
“Since you cleared off and left us to it? Couple of men living up in the
bunkhouse. One was working over on the Peterson ranch through round up season.
I went over there to help and he was bloody brilliant with the cattle. We made
him a job offer when he finished there. Ex service; a widower. Only got one
working hand, not that it slows him up. The other’s one of John Sevier’s kids.”<br />
<br />
“Is it Ben?” Charlie said with interest. “I thought he was getting sick of the
crowding over on that ranch. Six of them piled in that little house.”<br />
<br />
“He’s been liking having his own space. Brought his own horse and he’s got the
makings of a nice herd, he’s been running them in with ours. I dropped him over
at the Walker place on my way out here this morning, he’s staying at home until
New Year. Not sure how much he wanted to go.”<br />
<br />
“It might be crowded but they’re a close family,” Charlie protested, “I can’t
see him really wanting to be away from them over Christmas?”<br />
<br />
“It’s more the eyelashes he’s been batting at Anna-Mae Carroll over on the next
ranch.” David said dryly. “It’s amazing how many evening rides he’s been taking
over that way.”<br />
<br />
“She’s a little girl!”<br />
<br />
“She’s just turned fifteen.” David pointed out. “You’ve been away too long, and
he’s only a year older than she is. He’s a nice kid, a hard worker, and if she’s
as keen on him as it looks from the way she’s hanging around our stables, I’d
give it a year or two before Alan Carroll and Anna-Mae make terms with Ben and
his father. They’ve got no boys, no one but Anna-Mae to take on that ranch when
Alan gets too old to run it, and Ben’s going to make a good rancher.”<br />
<br />
“So apart from match making, what’ve you been doing?” Wade inquired.<br />
<br />
“Running cattle. Digging snow. Horses.” David shrugged. It was daily life out
here, the life Philip and David both loved.<br />
<br />
It was starting to get dark and the yard was deep in snow, with smoke thickly
leaving the chimney of the ranch house as they reached it. Philip came out onto
the porch, spilling warm light from the open door behind him, and caught Niall
first as Niall ran up the steps to him. The was always a sense of peace that
hung around Philip, a sense of nothing bad that could ever happen here. He and
David had always made this place a sanctuary. He hugged Niall tightly for a
long moment, then put a hand to Niall’s face to look at him. One of his swift,
kind and all seeing looks. It was only a few seconds, but Niall saw him read a
whole lot there, and his eyes said a great deal to Niall as he turned to catch
Wade, reeling slightly from the force of Wade’s embrace.<br />
<br />
“Hello! Come inside. David, we’ll eat in half an hour.”<br />
<br />
“Need a hand?” Charlie said easily, fastening his coat. Always active he loved
the work of the ranch and travelling left him restless rather than tired. He
gave Philip a bear hug as he passed, and he and David disappeared into the snow
in the direction of the pasture. Wade hauled bags inside and Niall helped,
watching Philip meet James with a quiet and very warm embrace of a kind James
probably gave no one else. “It’s good to see you. Your rooms are ready, take your
bags on up.”<br />
<br />
The house was warm and their rooms were exactly as they’d left them. The
comfort in that was deeper than Niall had expected. The mantelpiece in the
sitting room was thick with Christmas cards; Philip was the social one of the
two and had friendships that stretched far and wide all over the continent, but
Niall knew from experience, David would know all the names and the wives and
the kids. He was better at this than he chose to look. This was a large house
and they often entertained here, or went out to visit.<br />
<br />
“George Brindlow and Daniel asked after you in their card,” Philip said from
the kitchen, seeing Niall look along the mantel. “They stayed with us over
Thanksgiving. They’re entertaining over Christmas of course, they have a house
full. How are your parents doing with Maria’s new baby?”<br />
<br />
“They’re good thanks. Busy, between all the kids running in and out of the
house now.” Niall came into the kitchen where James was setting the table.
Philip knew the gentle yet rather distant relationship he had with a family who
loved him but didn’t recognise their son in the man who’d come back from
Europe, and whom he loved but couldn’t talk to about… well. Anything of
importance really. His family in truth had shifted to being based in this house
years ago, as had James’, and Wade’s. David came in the kitchen door, kicked
snow off his boots and hung up his coat, making room for Charlie.<br />
<br />
“So are you going to explain what’s happened?”<br />
<br />
“You’re a model of tact and diplomacy as always.” Philip said serenely, handing
David a wine bottle.<br />
<br />
“It’s bloody obvious something went wrong, Niall looks bloody awful.” David
pulled a knife out of his pocket and efficiently used the corkscrew. “Pour
that. Get away from the fish, I’ll do the fish.”<br />
<br />
“You’ve been ice fishing?” Wade bounced into the kitchen, in socks, jeans and a
heavy sweater he’d changed into. He looked considerably happier than he had
this morning in the airport, and he went to help James with the plates, looking
with interest at the trout lined up on the counter.<br />
<br />
“Of course I went ice fishing, they didn’t wander into the yard and surrender,”
David said irritably. Philip poured wine into glasses, took his and took a seat
at the table, giving David free reign at the skillet.<br />
<br />
“Go on,” David demanded, tipping butter and shallots into the skillet and
starting to fillet fish at high and accurate speed. “What happened?”<br />
<br />
“I zoned out in the snow on a street corner the other night.” Niall said so
none of the others had to. David gave him a narrow look. There wasn’t one of
them in this kitchen that didn’t know what he meant.<br />
<br />
“How bad?”<br />
<br />
“Bad.” Wade said bluntly. “I haven’t seen that bad in years. Charlie found him.
Sitting on a stoop in the street, there was snow on him. We had to drag him
home, it was a while before we got him together enough to talk. It was the
afternoon we arrived, or James would have been searching half of Chicago by
himself.”<br />
<br />
Niall looked down into his wine, aware he was flushing.<br />
<br />
“Do you know what caused it?” Philip asked him quietly. Niall sipped wine.
Under the table James’ hand found his knee, a discreet but strong signal of
support.<br />
<br />
“Yes. There’s a case I’ve picked up that is a little….”<br />
<br />
“A little what?” Charlie took a seat beside Wade. “It’s good to hear you’re
picking up cases already, but what’s upsetting about this one?”<br />
<br />
“A father approached me, asking me for help with a closed inquest and police
inquiry into his daughter’s death. It was registered as accidental. She was a
maid in the household of Lymington Junior and she died on the night that he –
apparently – murdered his wife and shot himself. The police recorded that she
slipped and fell in the confusion on the night, and it had nothing to do with
the Lymingtons.”<br />
<br />
“I know Lymington Senior a little.” Philip looked very sober; his network of
business acquaintances was vast. “I’d met young Lymington. I must say, it never
struck me that a man in that family would be capable of such… albeit you never
truly know what anyone may be capable of in the wrong circumstances.”<br />
<br />
Niall saw him look to David as he said it; it was the kind of quick and
wordless communication between them that Niall had so often seen in this house,
as if it was a private conversation they’d had before. David’s eyes were
unreadable but he responded automatically to Philip’s faint signal to stop
wandering with a filleting knife that was dripping fish onto the floor and
return to the job at hand. Oddly it made it easier to tell them. There was
little Niall would have hesitated to say to these two.<br />
<br />
“The maid’s father doesn’t believe it.” Niall told Philip. “I don’t think the
chauffeur does either from what he’s said. There was, by all accounts, a
strange man living in the Lymington’s house, described as being hidden there.
Lymington Senior visited him and sometimes took him out of the house. Man of
Eastern European heritage, the servants neither liked nor trusted him and by
report Mrs Lymington was afraid of him and young Lymington quarrelled with him
several times. Also by report, the valet saw a gunshot scar. Here.” Niall
touched the underside of his upper left arm. Charlie swore quietly on the other
side of the table, and Philip’s eyebrows raised.<br />
<br />
“What?” Wade demanded. Charlie looked across to him.<br />
<br />
“That’s where the Waffen SS had their blood group tattoos. After the war, when
they were trying to evade capture, many tried to erase them. Gunshot scars were
a popular way. In Europe having any scar in that place was an arrestable piece
of evidence.”<br />
<br />
“There was some sort of artefact he brought with him, a large silver cup that
sounds very to me like a church relic. It disappeared when he did.” Niall
added. “Which adds to the evidence of this to me.”<br />
<br />
“You think the Lymingtons had a war criminal living in their house?” Wade
demanded. Niall gave him a sober nod.<br />
<br />
“I do. I know – we know – that at the end of the war, some of the most useful
key people captured by the US government were retained and brought to the US,
and that their information has been bartered for avoiding justice for war
crimes.”<br />
<br />
David made a quiet but explosive sound. Philip looked bleak but nodded. It was
information quietly and generally known in many circles and Philip moved in
enough of them to know.<br />
<br />
“The Lymingtons are some of the premier magnates in the country for steel
manufacture.” Niall went on. “War ships. Many other government projects they’re
connected with. This individual may have been on loan to them and under their
supervision while their advice was given. If he was associated with the deaths
of the Lymingtons and their maid – if he murdered a US citizen while in the
care of the government – there would be very good reason for the police and
government to go to whatever lengths necessary to remove him from the picture
and ensure that no evidence remained of his having ever existed.”<br />
<br />
“You’re never going to prove that, surely?” Charlie said. Niall shrugged a
little.<br />
<br />
“What do you do with a known war criminal who has been concealed and exempted
from charges in exchange for information, when he then commits murder under
your supervision? Particularly if you’re going to have to answer to the
American public and the allied nations for it?”<br />
<br />
“Anything that disposes of him as quickly and safely as possible.” David said
bleakly. “Take him somewhere quiet and shoot him. Put the body in the river.
Bury it somewhere.”<br />
<br />
“Would you see that as justice?” Niall asked him. “The responsible actions of a
culpable government? Really?”<br />
<br />
“Well you can’t charge him with war crimes at this point.” Wade said wryly.
“Captured 1945, got around to trial in 1953, oh and please ignore what he’s
telling you about the work he’s been doing for us in the mean time.”<br />
<br />
“Exactly.” Niall agreed. “You can’t hide the man in an American prison either,
you’d have to follow procedure to put him in there which would involve a trial
because we have law in this country, and not just our law but international law
which is going to involve admitting this man has been exempted from standing
trial. And once in a prison, the man will talk.”<br />
<br />
Philip broke the following silence, not debating the matter, simply going
straight to what he found most important as he so often did. “What did you do
when you heard this, Niall?”<br />
<br />
“I got a list of institutions. Local ones.” Niall said shortly. “I went through
the list. There’s one that is notorious in Chicago, a mental asylum of the very
worst kind. There’s supposedly floors of that building that officially don’t
exist, and rumours that they’ve hidden a number of difficult criminal secrets
for decades where a trial wasn’t possible. So I went to their guard room and
argued until I saw the admissions logs. A record of who was brought through the
gates; that’s all. There’s hundreds of poor souls on the ordinary wards, I knew
the approximate dates we were looking at. I found ten admissions, with names and
addresses. Nine of those names and addresses are real people, I found their
families, neighbours, the background on how they came to be admitted. And one
is a false name and address. Which proves nothing at all, except a man was
admitted between those dates under a false name and address, I haven’t pursued
it further. But if you wanted to incarcerate a man safely and permanently, in a
place experienced in his like where he could do no harm, where nothing he said
would be listened to, while also transporting him as short a distance as
possible with as little attention as possible…..?”<br />
<br />
“Seriously?” Wade said, sounding shocked. Niall gave him a grim nod.<br />
<br />
“I’ve seen it done. Not in this country, but I’ve seen it done.”<br />
<br />
“In fact you could not have stirred up those memories more thoroughly if you
had tried.” Philip’s eyes were deeply sympathetic and concerned across the
table.<br />
<br />
“Of all the cases to start with,” Charlie said with equal concern. “James are
you ok with this? It can’t be wise.”<br />
<br />
“If this woman died at the hands of a concealed criminal, and is being denied
justice because of it, is assisting the concealment of that wise?” Niall asked
him, slightly annoyed by this appeal to authority, particularly as James was
sitting beside him and not interfering. “She has rights. Her father has
rights.”<br />
<br />
“What can you realistically do with the case though, Ni?” Charlie pressed.
“Even if you had proof, if you expose this man and the government who is safer
or better off? If he’s in that asylum they’ve done the best they can in terms
of justice for what he was able to do on their watch. If you tell the world
he’s there then they’ll have to move him somewhere else, with all the risks
that entails, and there’ll be nowhere they can hide him once the country’s been
alerted to look out for him. If you expose the government you’re not going to
be popular and that’s putting it mildly. What risk could that create for you?
Because if he’s who you think he is, and he’s in there with no chance of
getting out, I don’t care about him, I care about you.”<br />
<br />
That was sincere. As was Charlie’s concern; Niall met his eyes and saw it
there. He and Wade were cops, and ex service men; they were neither of them
innocent of this kind of thing any more than he and James were.<br />
<br />
“You can’t bring a case when there’s no proof of any of it.” Wade pointed out.
“Can you? There isn’t anything you can prove.”<br />
<br />
“I don’t know yet what I’m going to do.”<br />
<br />
David dropped fillets of fish in the pan, dropped the spatula and walked around
the table to Niall, stooping to put one long arm around him from behind. With
David’s head against his, Niall put his arms up to hug David’s.<br />
<br />
“It will be all right. I just need some time to think.”<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
They rode out to the woods on Christmas Eve morning once the stock work was
done, and took their time about it, choosing the long way around. A ride
through the woods was always one of the most beautiful views on the ranch to
Niall and having left Wyoming when the leaves were beginning to fall, it was a
pleasure both to spend time with a horse he’d loved for years and missed in
Chicago, and to follow well known paths. The smells of pine and crisp air, the
sharp cold, the sounds of running water from the river where it had escaped its
ice coating, the crack and crunch of snow and earth beneath hooves, they were
powerfully familiar and so very different to the rainy gloom and smoke of
Chicago. It was a dose of freedom, something that made his chest unknot and the
low level headache he’d been carrying for the past few days faded away. David
and Charlie argued about, found and cut a pine tree, and Philip’s beloved Shire
mare dragged it home behind her without hesitation, striding through deep snow
where the other horses had to pick their way.<br />
<br />
In the family room they decorated the tree together while the room filled with
the scent of fresh pine resin and wood smoke from the logs in the hearth. Niall
watched David very gently take the red glass ornaments from the newspaper
wrappings and hand them one at a time to Philip; the ornaments that had been
Philip’s mother and were now familiar to Niall from many Christmases spent here
in this house. It was a ritual now as strong to him as the Christmas rituals
from his childhood, something he loved participating in. The radio was on, in
anticipation of the Christmas service from Kings College; the sung service from
England that Philip tuned to every year.<br />
<br />
Charlie, who had spent some minutes fixing the tree firmly in its stand, took a
seat on the arm of the couch behind Niall, hooking an arm around his waist.
“You all right?”<br />
<br />
They’d been good friends for years; Niall had loved Charlie since he first came
to this house. Niall leaned against him, appreciating the hug and the discreet
but strong message, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">don’t be mad;
I’m just worried about you</i>. And the willingness to ask difficult questions
whether or not you wanted to answer them tended to be a strongly inbuilt
feature in a good Top.<br />
<br />
“I’m good.” Niall told him honestly. “I’ve been missing the ranch. The city is
no substitute.”<br />
<br />
And Charlie was aware, as James and Philip and David in particular were also
aware although no one was saying it, there was more than an open chance of he
and James having to move back here if Chicago didn’t work out.<br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">And if it happens it will be because of
me. And not taking crazy cases would be a help with that</i>.<br />
<br />
They’d talked about it around the dinner table last night, long after the
perfectly cooked trout was eaten. David cooked fish like no one else Niall knew
cooked fish.<br />
<br />
“What is your best option?” David had asked. Taller than any of them, his
shoulders bulked at the table when he leaned forward. His hair was wilder than
usual and his bright eyes were intense; David had by far the keenest sense of
danger of all of them. Niall had seen his instincts at work many times, and
trusted them. <br />
<br />
“I basically have only two options as I see it.” Niall said baldly. “One: do
nothing. Two: file a Writ of Mandamus.”<br />
<br />
“Which is what?” David said just as bluntly. Niall set down his wine glass.<br />
<br />
“It would be a complaint served against the District Attorney. Essentially a
request to the court to order the DA’s office to bring charges against Novotny
for Rose and the Lymingtons’ deaths. To put all of this out in the open in a
court of law.”<br />
<br />
“But you don’t have the evidence.” Wade was watching him, his eyes anxious
under the heavy curly hair. “Are any of your witnesses going to come forward
and talk about police and DA cover ups? Especially if you think they’ve been
paid off?”<br />
<br />
“I won’t have anyone but Mr Byrne.” Niall agreed. “I know. But I can lay out
everything I have and it shows, there are lines of inquiry they either didn’t
pursue properly or turned away from. It was a lousy job of an investigation
going by the inquest. The way Rose fell, apparently from a slip on the stairs. Never
explained. Where exactly she struck her head. Never mentioned. I couldn’t see
anywhere that would have inflicted the wound described. Mr Byrne’s repeated
statements that Novotny was resident in that house and the scar on his arm: a
witness with a scar that would be a matter of immediate interest to
international agencies, whose presence in the house has never been mentioned.”<br />
<br />
“And that scar was described to you by a witness who’s been paid off.” Charlie
repeated patiently. “You’ve got a fist full of smoke, that’s all. You can’t
prove any of this.”<br />
<br />
“But it isn’t about proving it, it’s about putting forward enough that the
court compels the DA’s office to do their job. Openly.”<br />
<br />
“And if there is a cover up with a powerful family involved, then like Charlie
says, they’re not just going to say ok, we’ll stop the cover up now, sorry
about that. And they’re not just going to pat you on the head and walk away
either.” Wade said hotly. “For God’s sake Niall. You’re trying to start a
career, not kill one. Or end up with concrete boots on, dropped in the
harbour.”<br />
<br />
“Please.” James said firmly. Wade glowered at him.<br />
<br />
“It’s Chicago. It happens. If you’d move to freaking Texas like I keep telling
you, the worse that’d happen is someone shot you.”<br />
<br />
“Which would be so much better,” David said conversationally to Niall. Niall
smiled, watching Charlie hook Wade out of his chair, wrestle him down into his
lap and nip at Wade’s ear, muttering something that made Wade stop glowering.
He’d missed this too. The teasing, the bickering, the easy companionship of
this house.<br />
<br />
“That was an excellent meal.” Philip picked up his glass, getting to his feet,
and while he said it gently it was a tone that invariably got all of them
together and moving in the same direction and always had done. Philip just had
a presence that seemed to guide people in front of him; Niall had seen him do
it many times. “Niall, would you help me with the washing up? And James,
perhaps you would put on a record and move the table? I could use some exercise
to help digest.”<br />
<br />
They washed and put away the dishes while Charlie and David shifted the table
out of the way. The kitchen was large, and they’d done this through many
evenings for years. In the family room the strains of Glen Miller’s American
Patrol began, and Niall, slotting dishes back into the rack, automatically
began to sway, marking time. Behind him Charlie caught James’ hand, turned him
and James smiled, falling into step with him. The complicated turns and twists
and spins they did together were so calmly done, without either of them ever
losing the grasp on the other’s hand, the fluidity was beautiful to watch.
James was engrossed when he turned his back to the bathroom door, and Wade,
emerging innocently still drying his hands, dropped the towel, managed one of
the incredible bursts of speed and power his short frame was capable of, and
leapfrogged neatly over James’ head. James grabbed for him. Wade backed away,
licking a finger and making a mark in the air. “Got you again!”<br />
<br />
“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Come here</i>!”<br />
<br />
Watching James and Charlie subdue Wade together, Niall placed the last plate
and Philip smiled at him, offering a hand. He was a beautiful dancer despite
the stiff ankle that made his movements more sedate than the vigorous athletics
Charlie and Wade revelled in. Niall slid into step with him, feeling his calm
as much as the firm pressure of his hand that guided them both so there was no
hesitation, no question of which step to take. It was soothing.<br />
<br />
After a while they gravitated back to their own partners. Even David would jive
for Philip, although his patience didn’t last long. Much more to his taste were
the quieter waltzes on the second record James set; those he would do for hours
with Philip. From James’ arms, Niall watched him, the taller of the two, surprisingly
graceful in this, moulded close to Philip and Philip was a strong lead but only
David ever flowed with him like this, as if he’d been made to do it. Niall
loved to watch them. The contentment of the two of them together filled this
house, it flowed from it, and it welcomed you inside its warmth to join them.<br />
<br />
Philip sent him and James to bed not long afterwards on the grounds that they
looked as if they needed it, dispatching them upstairs with cocoa to ward
against the chill of the night wind against the windows. Philip was perhaps the
one man in this world that James would take orders from; not that Philip ever
made them feel like orders, but it made Niall look more closely at James’ face
and watch the line of his shoulders, concerned that Philip was seeing signs of
strain that he’d missed.<br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Of course you must be tired; I’m worrying
you crazy. It would have been worrying enough if I’d been taking normal, sane
cases</i>.<br />
<br />
The warmth of the fire had spread upstairs, their room was comfortably cool,
and in the soft depths of this familiar double bed Niall curled into James’
arms and hugged him. James stroked his neck and back, his long fingers moving
slowly and thoroughly over him bone by bone. Outside in the dark a cow lowed
the soft, harrumphing low of a cow in conversation.<br />
<br />
“If I’m pushing this too far,” Niall said quietly into his neck, “If you think
we need to stop, then we stop.”<br />
<br />
“I know this is important to you.”<br />
<br />
“Perhaps I’ve had my fair share of crusades and I don’t need to seek out more.”
Niall turned his cheek against the smooth, fine line of James’ collarbone,
nudging deeper beneath his chin. “It’s hard enough trying to make this work in
the city without me getting stuck out on stoops in the snow and scaring you to
death-”<br />
<br />
“Which was a simple error of judgement, which we dealt with.” James interrupted
him steadily, “Which I expected to deal with. We’re in a different situation
and temptation is all around you in new ways that we’re learning how to manage,
and mistakes are a part of any learning. What matters is whether we have the
right rules in place.”<br />
<br />
“It would be more to the point if I obeyed them.” Niall said, not without
shame. He felt the firm pressure of James’ lips against his forehead.<br />
<br />
“I assure you I will see to it that we achieve that. I believe you found
Charlie’s paddle quite convincing.”<br />
<br />
“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Yes</i>.” Niall said, flushing. He felt
James’ chuckle.<br />
<br />
“Then it’s merely a matter of necessary repetition, isn’t it? Niall, I never
expected you to find the safe or tame cases. It isn’t in you. And that was not
what we chose our district for.”<br />
<br />
“I think Philip is worried that you’re stressed. And tired.” Niall pushed up
far enough to search James’ eyes, anxious about the faintest possible sign of
tightness around them. James cupped a hand around his head and pulled him back
down, shifting to make them both comfortable.<br />
<br />
“No, Philip merely knows that we are settling into a new place, in a new
routine, and none of us expected the transition to be effortless. It is
perfectly sensible to rest and relax while we’re here. Decide what you think is
best to do, darling. It’s your job, and I believe you’ll come to the right
decision.”<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The stock work took a couple of hours on Christmas morning. It was good to do
the familiar, hard and physical work together and to be outside where the land
stretched out in all directions, snow covered and bright, on a clear and
bitterly cold morning. They ate a hot breakfast on their return, and not long
after that people began to arrive. A couple of the single men from Three
Traders who knew David. The stockman came over from the bunkhouse, shy but an
interesting man that Niall quickly took to and settled with in the nook by the
fireplace. It was Philip and David who had taught him to overcome his own
shyness with strangers and taught him their own warmth to any neighbour or
visitor. It had served Niall well in Chicago so far; their approach to people
worked on any soil. An older couple arrived who lived over on one of the
smaller ranches over west of them, who were particular friends of David’s. And
the Sheriff who arrived with fingers scarlet with cold from driving, and
brought with him a ham the size of a cupboard. Niall helped David and Philip
with dinner preparations and the setting of the large table in the kitchen, and
the fixing of a couple of porch roof slates, and a rewired plug and the
displacing of spare chairs from the barn to the house since David rarely did
just one thing at a time and rarely finished any one of the multiple things he
was doing either unless Philip was watching. It was long habit to join in and
to close the circles David created with energy as the interest or need caught
him; as someone who operated in long, large and complicated projects, Niall had
always found David’s swift line of varying short activities rather soothing.<br />
<br />
They ate ham and three roasted chickens from the Bluewater ranch where Mrs
Jefferson ran them to boost the income from their small cattle herd. The bread
was fresh baked and so was the stuffing; the vegetables were from the outside
store or canned or bottled from the vegetable patch outside under the snow, and
the apple pies were made from apples Niall had helped to can in summer this
year. Good food and plentiful, much of it grown on this land. The table was
crowded and noisy and the conversation was warm. It was past seven pm when
their last guests left, and nearly eight pm when they walked down through the
snowy woods with torches from where they’d left the truck parked, and reached
the bank where the hot springs steamed. There was a kind of peculiarly
masochistic joy to bathing here in the snow; the contrast of bitter cold to
heat. David built a fire on the bank which cast flickering light across the
rocks and out across the water, and Niall stripped quickly to the skin, sliding
fast into the deep water. It was so hot tonight that he yelped as he stepped
down into the water, the steam rising was thick, but here in the rushing of the
river and the brightness of a clear, star lit sky above them…. Life felt good
again. Powerfully good.<br />
<br />
James followed him down into the water, and David, naked and oblivious to the
cold, gripped Philip’s arm to steady him as Philip stepped across the rocks to
join them. For a while the six of them just sat there neck deep in the steaming
water and there was no need to say anything, the pleasure of being here was too
strong. Then Charlie propped his arms along the top ledge of rocks and looked
across to Niall.<br />
<br />
“All right. What are we going to do about this?”<br />
<br />
“Tops.” Wade said in protest. “No sense of timing…”<br />
<br />
“I think it’s very good timing,” James said calmly. “We’re all together.”<br />
<br />
“We’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves.”<br />
<br />
“That might be more effective if no one has to edge around the elephant in the
room.” Philip agreed. “I do prefer to address the elephant.”<br />
<br />
David cast him a sardonic look.<br />
<br />
“Did you plan on things getting this bad?” Charlie said frankly to James. “I
haven’t seen Niall have an episode that bad in a few years now, none of us
have, and that scared me. Ni, it’s no good looking daggers at me. If it’s
affecting you that much, and James is getting left in situations like the one I
found him in last week, I need to ask and James would expect me to, we love you
two.”<br />
<br />
“It’s been worse than usual,” Niall said shortly, mostly to protect James from
having to answer. “We knew it would be, we handle it the way we’ve always
done,”<br />
<br />
“The move, the setting up of a business, is inevitably stressful.” James
sounded far calmer than he did. “Yes, I expected this. We both did.”<br />
<br />
“We have rules to manage it and I broke them.” Niall said even more sharply.
“If I’d done what I was supposed to, I’d have come home and we’d have handled
it like we always handle the low level ones. It was my fault it got out of
control.”<br />
<br />
“That’s happened to all of us.” David said flatly. “It goes with the
territory.”<br />
<br />
“Indeed.” Philip drew David over between his knees, folding both arms around
his chest. David leaned back against him at the prompting, but his eyes were
dark and watchful and he was not relaxed. Philip held him, apparently not
noticing. “Following rules being something James will address, the bigger
question appears to me to be: what can we practically do to help?”<br />
<br />
“While they figure out whether they can do this or they give up and come home?”
David said shortly.<br />
<br />
“Yep.” Wade said from across the pool.<br />
<br />
“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">No</i>, because the whole point is that
they want to do it.” David made an attempt to stir from Philip’s arms and
Philip didn’t move very much but David didn’t get anywhere. Having seen
Philip’s strength and dexterity in managing a difficult horse or a difficult
brat, it was something Niall was used to. “If they want to then it’s only about
the how.”<br />
<br />
“Yes, we definitely do want to.” James said in agreement to him, and James was
usually good at calming David. “That has not changed. We’re agreed on that.”<br />
<br />
David gave him a sharp nod. “Then it’s nothing more than how do we make it
work.”<br />
<br />
“If I wasn’t tied up in this case it would be much less complicated, that part
is my fault.” Niall said to David. Who snorted.<br />
<br />
“Well that’s simple enough. File the bloody case, get it over with. Stuff in
your writ of whatever, it’s all the tangoing around the edges of it that’s
stressful.”<br />
<br />
“It’s going to be a lot to get involved with.” Charlie said gently. David shook
his head.<br />
<br />
“Do you believe he can do it?”<br />
<br />
“Well obviously.” Wade said, somewhat indignantly. “He’s done it for years, of
course he can.”<br />
<br />
“Exactly. It’s his kind of case, it’s on his doorstep. Sort it out.”<br />
<br />
That was a very David kind of approach.<br />
<br />
“It’s going to be like poking a hornets’ nest.” Niall explained to him. “I
don’t know exactly what may happen, but Charlie was right the other night; it’s
going to cause problems.”<br />
<br />
“So deal with the problems.” David gave him a flat shrug, and Niall was used to
both David’s practicality in problem solving and in independence, and his brisk
decisions. “It’s the mucking about that’s stressful. Get on with it, do it,
you’re not going to talk yourself out of it and that’s all you’re really trying
to do.”<br />
<br />
“You didn’t see him sitting on a stoop in the snow.” Wade muttered.<br />
<br />
“Neither did you.” Charlie reminded Wade, who grimaced at him. David sent a
splash of water in Wade’s direction.<br />
<br />
“James is more than capable of keeping them both safe. If that’s what you’re
stuck on then I’ll go to bloody Chicago and follow him around myself until
we’ve got it sorted.”<br />
<br />
“I think we can handle it,” James said with affection. “But thank you.”<br />
<br />
“We do respect that you’re doing this yourselves.” Philip said calmly. “Some of
us more willingly than others, but we do.”<br />
<br />
“We just want this to work for you.” Charlie reached over to grip Niall’s hand.
“Ok. If you’re putting in this writ-”<br />
<br />
“Just get it bloody written.” David slid deeper in the water against Philip.
“Get on with it, for pete’s sake.”</span></p>
<h1>Part 5</h1>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">They returned home and walked across to the court
house on the 2nd of January where Niall filed the writ. James came with
him to do it, waiting quietly at the back of the hall while Niall worked with
the court clerk at the window. And with the writ filed, they waited.<br />
<br />
It should have taken thirty days before a response came: in fact Niall received
a telegram at home only nine days later commanding him to present himself in
court the following morning.<br />
<br />
“That’s interesting. Unusually quick action, as if that’s rattled some cages.
And it’s a closed meeting.” Niall said dryly to James when he showed him the
telegram. James, who had been working on yet more notes, raised his eyebrows,
laying down his pen to survey the terse message. “Which means what?”<br />
<br />
“Largely that whatever is said shouldn’t be available to the general public.”<br />
<br />
“This is the hornet’s nest stirred, isn’t it?”<br />
<br />
“We knew it would be.” Niall said frankly. “Yes. It is. Here we go.”<br />
<br />
James retrieved his pen and began to order his pages on the desk. “Very well.
I’ll come with you.”<br />
<br />
“James, you can’t hold my hand through everything. This is my job.”<br />
<br />
James continued to work on his notes, not troubling to look around. “I think
you will find I can, Niall. Not to mention that this is not an average case.”<br />
<br />
That was difficult to deny.<br />
<br />
James therefore waited in the marble hall outside the court room through the
following morning’s meeting. Niall had predicted that it would either be very
short or very long; James was not surprised when ten minutes after entering,
Niall re emerged, took his coat from James and put it on in short, sharp
movements that betrayed fury. His eyes were blazing. James waited for him to
fasten his coat and resume his hat, and held the door for him. It was a foggy
day outside, the mist from the river and the smoke from many coal fires had
mixed and it hung in the street heavily, yellowed, muffling the traffic and
thick enough that the other side of the street was invisible. They were halfway
down the steps before Niall said very shortly,<br />
<br />
“The judge threw it out. Emphatically threw it out.”<br />
<br />
“On what grounds?”<br />
<br />
“He spent almost the entire time raking me down about that.” Niall didn’t look
in the slightest bit abashed by it either, and James knew his expression well.
A will of absolute iron occupied that apparently fragile frame: if Niall was
truly convinced he was right, then nothing stopped him. “It’s a frivolous
submission. In his opinion. There is no evidence, a great deal of hearsay,
speculation, baseless and irresponsible accusations against a reputable and
grieving family, no witnesses prepared to speak – Rose’s father apparently
doesn’t count, I couldn’t get a word in edgewise long enough to ask why – it’s
disgraceful I should file a writ under these circumstances, I’ve wasted his
time and that of the DAs office, and there was a great deal more on young
lawyers with more thriller novels than sense. The DA apparently has a great
deal of discretion to make appropriate decisions and it is not for the likes of
me to harass or question them. Apparently.”<br />
<br />
“Mr Carey?”<br />
<br />
Niall paused and turned with James. The man in the dark coat coming out of the
fog and walking down the steps after them was middle aged and nondescript in
appearance.<br />
<br />
“He was in the meeting, along with the DA.” Niall muttered to James, “His role
was never exactly mentioned. Yes, may I help you?”<br />
<br />
“Parker.” The man extended a hand to Niall, who took it somewhat warily.<br />
<br />
“What can I do for you Mr Parker?”<br />
<br />
The man slipped a card from his breast pocket and opened it slightly, enough
for James to glimpse, with a surge of alarm, what Niall was being shown. The
identity was an FBI one.<br />
<br />
“Perhaps I could speak with you for a moment? Shall we?”<br />
<br />
Well there were no black cars in sight and Niall looked unshaken. They walked
slowly with the man down the wide steps to a quiet spot where the man took a
seat.<br />
<br />
“I’m aware of your record Mr Carey. I’m not sure the judge was, but I read your
involvement with the army with great interest. I’m well aware that this isn’t
by any means your first dance with a court.” He looked up at James with a
rather friendly smile for someone with a sinister ID badge. “And this would be
Mr Weld, who shares rooms with you and whose military career is also an
interesting one.”<br />
<br />
“Was it Novotny’s name that was tagged, or the Lymingtons?” Niall said calmly.
The man gave him a wry smile.<br />
<br />
“Let’s say the writ came rapidly to our attention once you filed it. Would you
care to come with me on a visit? You have my word, gentlemen both of you, that
you’re quite safe. Regard this please as a gesture of trust on our part. Or
rather of deserved respect.”<br />
<br />
The taxi moved slowly through the fogged streets. It took them to the gates of
an enormous Victorian building that stretched out to many wings in many
directions. Another name was now on the gates but James knew it’s traditional
name in the city. Dunning asylum. The place Niall had visited a few weeks ago.
Another discreetly suited man was waiting for them at the gatehouse. Other than
briefly checking identification, the asylum staff on duty appeared subdued and
anxious to please. They were led inside the massive stone building through
several locked doors where a third and even more grim looking man waited for
them. The sounds coming from distant and unseen corridors were not pleasant:
they were human voices but few were making particularly human sounds. In a
hallway, Parker nodded to James and his colleague.<br />
<br />
“This is the superintendent of the asylum. If you two gentlemen would like to
wait there? Mr Carey is the only one authorised to come with me past this
point.”<br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">To do what to him?</i> James found
himself taking a half step in front of Niall, straightening the additional inch
that brought him to his full height, but Niall’s hand brushed his arm.<br />
<br />
“James, it’s all right.”<br />
<br />
He sounded sure. He followed Parker and the grim looking superintendent through
another locked door that the superintendent unlocked personally. The colleague
seated himself on a stone bench and gave James a look of some curiosity. “You
served as a guard in Nuremberg prison, didn’t you?”<br />
<br />
It was not reassuring to understand that the FBI had done their research on
both of them. Watching the door through which Niall had been taken, James kept
his voice level. “I did.”<br />
<br />
“What was it like?” the man sounded genuinely as if he wanted to know. James
glanced at him, then back at the whitewashed stone walls around them.<br />
<br />
“Not dissimilar to this. Very large. Stone built. Long and wide hallways. About
the same degree of dilapidation.”<br />
<br />
The man nodded slowly.<br />
<br />
They waited perhaps ten minutes. Then the door opened and Niall walked with
Parker and the superintendent back into the hallway. Niall was white; James
couldn’t read his face. The superintendent saw them in silence through the lock
system of hallways, gates and doors until he let them out of the final one, and
they stood in the driveway outside the enormous building. The escape from the
distant and haunting cries and shouts was a relief. fog was worse now; it was
hard to see as far as the road and a slow drizzle had started.<br />
<br />
“So now you’ve seen him. Do you know his real identity?” Parker said quietly to
Niall. Niall shook his head.<br />
<br />
“I could make educated guesses. I knew the ‘wanted’ lists quite well at one
time, and from his professional field… It would not be hard to work out, but
no. I haven’t researched it.”<br />
<br />
“Are you convinced he’s no danger to anyone where he is?”<br />
<br />
“You’re confirming then that he is responsible for the deaths of Rose Byrne and
the Lymingtons?”<br />
<br />
“I’m confirming nothing.” Parker set his hat on his head, straightening it.
“I’m asking if you’re convinced.”<br />
<br />
“Have you questioned him?”<br />
<br />
“Out of respect for your involvement in European trials, my department has
authorised me to share this information with you.” Parker said, ignoring the
question. “We trust of course that you will continue your longstanding service
to national security by not identifying Novotny’s history or location, because
you understand more than most what his history has been.”<br />
<br />
“He’s still entitled to an open, fair trial.” Niall said grimly, and to James’
ear he sounded furious. “In Europe that was what we did. We believed that
regardless of what someone had done or what we felt about it, we had to do the
objectively right thing to the same equal standard of justice any citizen is entitled
to. That every single one of them was entitled to fair trial, by the book,
properly defended. Nothing hole and corner. Nothing that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ever</i> descended to their level.”<br />
<br />
“As I said, we do respect that.” Parker said quite gently. “But this is a
different place and time, Mr Carey. Novotny will never leave here. He will have
no further chance to harm an American citizen. And we will also, of course,
correct the mistake of the inquest and ensure that the police and DA’s office
treat Miss Byrne’s death appropriately, as an open and unsolved homicide.”<br />
<br />
It was so politely done. Not a stated ‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">if
you will say nothing then we will give you Rose Byrne’s verdict…</i>’ but the
implication was obvious.<br />
<br />
“Under those circumstances it can never be anything more than an unsolved
homicide.” Niall said. It wasn’t a question.<br />
<br />
Parker nodded slowly. “Yes. But her family will have the satisfaction of the
crime against her recognised by state and government.”<br />
<br />
“But not justice. Not justice they’ve seen and been part of. And what about the
Lymingtons?”<br />
<br />
“I can’t discuss the decisions of the Lymington Family, Mr Carey.”<br />
<br />
“So Lymington Senior knew who he was sheltering.”<br />
<br />
“Let’s say there was a team around Novotny whose failures have been
investigated.” Parker said gently. “And perhaps people have learned that it’s
not always possible to keep a pet shark, no matter what precautions are taken.
I can’t say more, Mr Carey. But in as much as justice can be done for Miss
Byrne, my department wished for you to see the evidence of it. And be assured
that the DA’s office will re open Miss Byrne’s case. Good day to you Mr Carey.
Mr Weld.” Parker tipped his hat politely to the both of them and walked towards
his colleague who was waiting by a car. Niall watched them climb in and the car
pulled away, disappearing into the fog. The cab, waiting patiently by the
gates, was clearly for them.<br />
<br />
James waited, watching the set of Niall’s head and jaw. There were times when
he recognised the fire there and knew not to touch, not to speak; just to wait.
Finally Niall strode towards the cab and opened the door, waiting for James to
get in.<br />
<br />
He didn’t speak all the way back to their apartment. James hung their coats on
the stand by the door, watching Niall stalk to the window and stand there,
staring out at the street.<br />
<br />
“He knows he’s got me.” Niall said finally, without turning. “The judge had the
FBI and the DA’s office breathing down his neck to shut me down and dismiss the
writ, and Parker knows he’s got me. There’s nothing I can do. It is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wrong</i>, and there is nothing I can do.
This is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i> what the law is
for.”<br />
<br />
James drew out a chair at the table and sat, quietly, watching him and
listening. Niall linked his hands behind his head, staring out at the street.
James was prepared; he realised it as he waited. He was prepared for this to be
the end, the setback that broke Niall’s will to be here and made all this
immense effort of living off the ranch too great a price to pay. They had been
ready for this; it was why the apartment and the office were merely rented. They
had been aware that this experiment, this great risk might not work. And yet
James dreaded it. He dreaded seeing Niall surrender and see the disillusionment
in his eyes. In the appalling, terrible cases Niall had researched and prepared
in Europe, the thousands of hours of testimony, the hours of driving to place
after place with the darkest of histories, the photographs, the organising of
it all – his faith had always been fixed in the justice system. That the law
made the decisions, the rightness of law was what mattered; it was the belief
that all the legal teams held to that got them through each case. And it had
never let him down.<br />
<br />
Until a dark, damp American city in winter.<br />
<br />
“I need to speak to Byrne.” Niall said very shortly at the window, dropping his
hands. “I need to return Rose’s belongings to him and let him know the verdict
will be changed.”<br />
<br />
“I don’t want you to go alone.”<br />
<br />
Niall grabbed his coat and hat. “I’ll be careful, I promise. I need the walk.”<br />
<br />
And he needed the time to think. Most likely to reach the point of being able
to admit it to himself if he wanted to go home. And home was in Wyoming. Aching
for him, James listened to the door close quietly and Niall’s footfall moving
down the street.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Rose’s box
of belongings was on the desk of his office. Niall walked there first,
shoulders hunched against the winter wind which was cutting, collar turned up
high. He was numbed through most of it, with the same thoughts rolling through
his head in a steady wave. He didn’t notice most of the streets he walked down.
It was only as he descended the dark steps to his basement that he stopped,
startled at the several faces that immediately lifted to his in the gloom. A
woman in a battered hat, clutching her bag. A man in a threadbare jacket, scarf
wound tight around his neck. An elderly couple, arm in arm. The woman in the
battered hat nodded to him, moving closer to the wall to let him pass.<br />
<br />
“Mr Carey.”<br />
<br />
“Mr Carey,” the elderly man from the couple murmured in turn. It was a
greeting, not a question, and a surprisingly respectful one. Niall made his way
slowly down the steps, startled out of his reverie.<br />
<br />
“Good….” he made a few hurried calculations, “…afternoon. Were you waiting for
me?”<br />
<br />
“This man was first,” the elderly man said, indicating the man with the scarf.
Niall unlocked the door to his office and held it open, stooping to pick up an
envelope that appeared to have been slid under the door.<br />
<br />
“Thank you. Won’t you come in, Mr….?”<br />
<br />
“Plietker.” The man’s German accent was thick. Niall closed the door behind him
and waved him to a chair.<br />
<br />
“Mr Plietker. Happy New Year to you. Won’t you sit down?”<br />
<br />
By the time the woman with the handbag made her way back up to the street,
Niall was looking at three hurriedly started case files on the desk in front of
him. Three. Small matters, relatively easily addressed ones, but the trust had
been in all four of the faces. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">You’ll
help, won’t you</i>?<br />
<br />
Three. And two of them had mentioned Mr Byrne, the word spread in gossip around
the streets, a lawyer who would take the small cases, the hopeless cases. The
envelope that had been pushed under the door held a small crest on the seal.
Niall picked it up and tore it open. The lines were short and to the point. He
turned out the basement lamp, picked up the box and walked out into the still
murky streets.<br />
<br />
He had been, once before, to this neighbourhood where the Lymington house was.
The address was a neighbouring house, just as elegant, but the gates stood wide
and a housemaid answered Niall’s ring at the door.<br />
<br />
He left Rose’s belongings with his coat and hat in the hall and was shown
through to a library. Six women were seated there, and five of them wore veils.
They ranged, Niall thought, from early twenties to mid forties. Immaculately
and expensively dressed, the scent of Parisian perfume was heavy in the room,
and all six of them fixed him with a coldness of stare that chilled Niall to
the blood. The veils were opaque, but he could feel the fixed eyes. The single
unveiled woman rose to meet him and she did not offer a hand. She could have
moonlighted as a gorgon; her stiff hair and her eyelashes were terrifying.<br />
<br />
“Mr Carey. I understand that you have been making most vulgar inquiries
regarding the Lymingtons.”<br />
<br />
The crispness of her speech spoke of a middle aged debutante, no doubt the very
expensive wife of a very expensive man, most likely a friend or satellite of
Lymington Senior. As Niall looked further at the group he recognised several of
them from the newspapers through the shadow of their veils. This coven were
more usually seen in glittering evening dresses or accepting flowers from small
children while running or opening society events than intimidating very young
lawyers. Here sat the first female rank of Chicago society, radiating distaste
at him. <br />
<br />
“Those inquiries are completed.” Niall said politely. “May I ask whom I have
the pleasure of addressing?”<br />
<br />
“You may not,” the woman said coldly. “You may cease and desist immediately
insulting the memory of the Lymingtons, or I shall be personally forced to take
action against you.”<br />
<br />
“Well I shall look forward to that.” Niall said even more politely, losing
patience. “Good afternoon.”<br />
<br />
“Mr Carey,” the woman said imperatively as Niall turned to leave. “What exactly
has been completed?”<br />
<br />
“I thought you required me to cease and desist?” Niall pointed out. “The
inquiries have been to do with Miss Byrne, a maid in the household. That is
all.”<br />
<br />
“And the result?”<br />
<br />
“Will be for the District Attorney to decide, but I believe the verdict on her
death will change from accidental to unsolved homicide. And I do not believe
that Mr Lymington will be implicated within that verdict.”<br />
<br />
The atmosphere in the room was no less frosty but it changed. Niall felt it.
The woman went to a desk and took up an envelope which she presented to Niall
from sufficient distance to avoid being infected by him.<br />
<br />
“I believe you are acting for Miss Byrne’s next of kin. Please see this reaches
them. You may contact the lawyer named in the letter if you should have further
questions. Good day Mr Carey.”<br />
<br />
The five other women were still staring coldly at him through their veils as he
left.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Mr Byrne lived in an even older building than they did, and if Niall had to
guess he was sharing with friends or relatives. He came out of a crowded single
room apartment to the hallway where he grasped Niall’s hand, looking somewhat
bewildered.<br />
<br />
“I didn’t expect to see you for a while – you said it would be a few weeks yet
before an answer from the District Attorney-”<br />
<br />
“I have the answer, I met with the judge and several other interested parties
this morning. Rose’s case will be re opened and the verdict will be changed to
unsolved homicide. An open investigation.” Niall swallowed the rest of it,
hating himself and hating even more the rush of relief and release in the man’s
face as Byrne grabbed his hand.<br />
<br />
“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Thank you</i>. Thank you, Mr Carey.
I’m very grateful to you, I don’t know what to say-” <br />
<br />
“It’s the very least I can do for you and Rose.” Niall interrupted him, not
able to bear any more. “These are Rose’s belongings, I brought them from the
house. There’s also a letter, but it’s a legal letter and I would like
permission to open it on your behalf.”<br />
<br />
“Who is it from?”<br />
<br />
“A Mrs Hilton’s attorney. It may be requesting that I cease inquiries as I’ve
been stepping on toes about the Lymingtons. In which case I will deal with it
and you need not be bothered by it.”<br />
<br />
“Well open away.” Byrne leaned on the battered wall, watching Niall tear open
the envelope. Niall read the contents. Then he read it again. Then he handed it
to Mr Byrne.<br />
<br />
Byrne scanned through the several sentences, and looked in silence at the
enclosure of the envelope. Then he looked up at Niall, bewildered. “Is it hush
money this is? Is it paying me to stop talking? This is a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">lot</i> of money!”<br />
<br />
“I don’t believe it is hush money, Mr Byrne.” Niall said it gently. “It seems
likely to me that this is the Lymington family acting through a friend or
associate, and that this is the compensation to Rose’s family that they feel is
deserved. She was their employee, I believe this is an expression of their
regret to you, and I have to say from conversations I have had today, I think
that it is sincere. I’m very glad for you.”<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
He passed a bakery on the way home and paused to buy a cheesecake. It was an
extravagance, but the novelty of passing shops and being able to choose items
as the impulse took him was still very new. The lights were on in the window of
their apartment as he walked down their street. It was cold and drizzling and
already starting to get dark at barely 4pm, but the window light was warm and
welcoming, and the battered apartment building door was beginning to be
familiar. Niall let himself in, finding James at the kitchen table, reading by
the warmth of the stove. He looked up and Niall saw his face change as he saw
the cheesecake, and…<br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Not the depths of despair</i>.<br />
<br />
Niall hung his coat up, put the cheesecake on the table and came to put his
arms around James’ neck from behind, kissing his cheek.<br />
<br />
“I have three new cases.”<br />
<br />
“How?”<br />
<br />
“There was a line of people waiting on my office steps. Apparently the word is
getting around that I’m happy to annoy the DA’s office.”<br />
<br />
James sat back in his chair to watch Niall wash his hands at the stone sink.
“And?”<br />
<br />
“And I received a letter and enclosure from the Lymingtons – or I believe it
comes from the Lymington family – for Mr Byrne. I believe they’ve attempted to
take care of Rose’s dependents.”<br />
<br />
“And you’re feeling better about it.”<br />
<br />
“Well under the circumstances, it’s an improvement.” Niall brought a plate and
knife to the table and opened the cheesecake box. “It’s very far from perfect.
But then it is not a perfect system. And the whole point of coming here to work
in it is to do my damnedest to improve it, so there’s no point in giving up at
the first fence, is there?” <br />
<br />
James looked at him for a moment, searching his eyes and seeing the energy in
them. And then he got up, took Niall’s face in his hands and kissed him.<br />
<br />
It was late that night when they were settled in bed beneath the draughty
window when Niall abruptly snapped out of a gathering doze and rolled over.<br />
<br />
“The cup. I forgot about the cup.”<br />
<br />
“What about the cup?”<br />
<br />
“Well where is it? Novotny doesn’t have it.”<br />
<br />
Niall hadn’t spoken of the circumstances in which he’d seen the man known to
Rose Byrne under the alias of Novotny, but James could imagine them, and
personal possessions would not be involved. Niall stared at the ceiling.<br />
<br />
“What did they do with the cup?”<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Dale, listening from the couch, had long since opened his eyes and moved to
watch Niall’s face. Niall gave him a wry smile.<br />
<br />
“So there I was. Enmeshed in a truly abysmal coverup I could do nothing about,
but Byrne got something from it. Actually, other things were quietly extended
his way too over the next couple of years, I was aware of them. He spent some
years working as a repairman on one of those big estate houses, not for the
Lymingtons themselves but I’m sure for a connected family on their behalf.”<br />
<br />
“What became of Novotny? Or whoever he was? Did you ever find out?”<br />
<br />
“I never formally researched his actual identity, but I felt a great sense of
responsibility as to where he was and what happened to him.” Niall said
bleakly. “The section of the asylum he was housed in had a number of difficult
criminal patients, too insane or extreme to take to trial. They were hidden
right down in the bowels of the place in amongst the many, many wards for the
mentally ill and those wards were bad enough. I swear Dale, I will never forget
what I saw on that basement level. I visited a few times for cases regarding
other patients, I never saw Novotny again but the supervisor spoke to me once
or twice about him under the alias the asylum knew him by. I always asked. Some
years later, after James and I moved to Michigan, the place was reorganised and
much of the buildings were adapted or knocked down, and I know that particular
basement no longer existed by that point. Which would suggest to me that the
last of those inmates down there had passed away; they weren’t men who could
have ever have been safely moved anywhere else. Most of the place is long gone
now. There’s a memorial park covering some of the grounds. Do I continue to
feel bad about Novotny? Yes. I always will. It was wrong. However it provided
me with a steady flood of people who knew I would battle with the DA’s office.
And the DA’s office in fact became rather inured to me, having seen I was
somewhat reluctantly part of the discretion around Novotny. It was a glorious
failure of a first case, it really was.”<br />
<br />
“And you had a meeting a few days ago regarding it?”<br />
<br />
“Yes.” Niall’s wine glass was nearly empty in his hands. He took another sip,
the firelight sending streaks of red through strawberry blond hair. “James and
I were packing to take our flight out here when a courier brought me an
envelope. I recognised the crest. It was the same one as was on the envelope I
was given by that witches’ coven to take to Mr Byrne. From a Chicago address.
Requesting that I attend a meeting in Chicago in my formal capacity the
following morning.”<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
He and James had travelled to Chicago many times on various work related issues
over the years, but it had been a long time since Niall had walked into this
neighbourhood. Chicago had been vigorously renovated through the 50s and 60s.
The red brick apartment block where he and James had rented their first rooms
had long since been demolished, and the district where the tenements of Mr
Byrne and many of Niall’s first clients had once stood was redeveloped out of all
recognition. Smog no longer hung in these streets in the winter, and the old
properties on the river had disappeared beneath buildings of the 60s and 70s.
In the last twenty years those had given way in their turn to shiny high rises.
Modernity raged in all directions. However in one small corner of what had once
been the street of elegant, Grecian mansions, one single old house remained,
squeezed and dwarfed between the new tower blocks. The Lymington house.
Dilapidated now, with a number of the windows broken and boarded on the upper
floors, and what had once been immaculately trimmed lawns were beds of weeds
and stacked rubbish.<br />
<br />
James accompanied him up the path. It was the original front door, still
secure, although the once polished wood was chipped, scratched and worn.<br />
<br />
“This is not going to take long,” James warned him, glancing at his watch while
they waited. Niall shook his head.<br />
<br />
“We’ve hardly come all the way to Chicago to say sorry, no time to talk, we
have a flight to take?”<br />
<br />
“We do have a flight to take, which we will be making, since we will not be
travelling through the night.” James said calmly. “If necessary we will make an
appointment with these people to return and discuss in more detail in the new
year. They wanted your services and will wait for you; we will not rearrange
for them.”<br />
<br />
“Depending on how this meeting goes,” Niall began. James interrupted him.<br />
<br />
“If this meeting fails to be contained to allowing us to meet that flight then
the delay will provide time to incorporate a visit with our old friend, Mr
Speaker.”<br />
<br />
“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">James</i>.”<br />
<br />
Niall just about swallowed the hiss with the dignity required of an elderly and
senior judge in a public place. Charlie’s paddle was in its third incarnation:
somehow Charlie had managed a complete reproduction every time a replacement
was required, right down to the friendly lettering. It had become known at some
point as Mr Speaker in their house, mostly due to James having been forced
while accompanying Niall to listen to much bickering in the senate and in the
British house of commons, and remarking that Mr Speaker appeared to be the
ultimate appeal to authority. It meant, unfortunately, James was also perfectly
able to warn him <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">rein it in now or
else</i>, in full hearing of anyone who happened to be around them.<br />
<br />
Charlie had a lot to answer for.<br />
<br />
The door was opened by a man in a suit who bore all the signs of being an
attorney. He stepped aside at once.<br />
<br />
“Judge Carey. Do come in please sir.”<br />
<br />
“Thank you. This is my secretary, James Weld.”<br />
<br />
That was a white lie that had been saving them problems for approaching six
decades now. The hallway was much the same as it had looked the day the
chauffer had shown him around. Colder. Greyer. Older. The furniture lay under
sheets which had once been white. Niall suspected they were the same sheets
that had been here on his first visit, untouched and unmoved. They were thick
with dust when he touched one. The once red carpets were greyed with dust in
the hall and up the stairs. The attorney closed the front door.<br />
<br />
“Would you come this way, sir?”<br />
<br />
He led them through several large rooms on the ground floor towards the back of
the house. Chandeliers hung silently above them. Paintings looked down from the
walls. Through an arch way, a garden room became apparent. The ceiling was
glassed. The windows were opaque with decades of dust and dirt, but Niall could
just about make out the river beyond them. The building sat directly on the
riverbank, a stone dropped from a window here would land in the water as Mrs
Lymington had, falling from the upstairs window. Dried up plants were still in
their pots and containers, withered trees spread their empty branches. In
amongst this odd, withered forest, sat seven women. One more than last time;
apparently the Chicago coven had grown.<br />
<br />
All but one were veiled. One sat in a wheelchair, her hands and fingers
sticklike on the arms. Elderly women. But the scent of Parisian perfume was
still in the air. The elderly woman who rose gracefully from the sofa had stiff
hair which was white now; perfect makeup, an expensive dress, and she held out
a hand.<br />
<br />
“Judge Carey.”<br />
<br />
Her voice hadn’t changed since their last meeting.<br />
<br />
“Good morning Mrs Hilton.” Niall took her hand. She grasped it and guided him
to a sheet covered love seat.<br />
<br />
“Please do sit down. Mr Weld, good morning.”<br />
<br />
Niall and James took a seat together. Mrs Hilton sat too. The silent, veiled
women around her watched, as they’d watched at the last meeting.<br />
<br />
“Thank you for coming all this way,” Mrs Hilton said levelly.<br />
<br />
“Is this meeting also arranged on behalf of the Lymington family?” Niall inquired.
Mrs Hilton shook her head.<br />
<br />
“The descendants of the family are few and no longer live in the state. You may
be interested to know that our first meeting was not arranged by or for the
Lymington family either. The seven of us act quite independently. We always
have.”<br />
<br />
“You required me to cease investigations and provided compensation to Rose
Byrne’s father.” Niall pointed out. “Both in the interests of the Lymington
family.”<br />
<br />
Mrs Hilton inclined her head. “Perhaps it can be said that our interests coincided.
The Lymington family were unaware that we met with you. Or that we arranged for
the interests of Mr Byrne among ourselves.”<br />
<br />
“Perhaps you ladies might identify yourselves to me.” Niall said courteously.
“I did of course originally recognise a couple of you. Mrs Aston. Mrs
Wychbold.”<br />
<br />
“Who we are makes little difference.” Mrs Hilton crossed her ankles neatly
below the hem of her immaculate skirt. “In 1953 you served a writ against the
District Attorney’s office to investigate a Mr Novotny’s role in the murder of
Rose Byrne.”<br />
<br />
“I did. I would imagine you became aware of this through your husband, who I
believe was an employee of Mr Lymington Senior, as well as his friend.”<br />
<br />
“Quite. I am further aware that you visited the man known as Novotny in the
asylum where he was incarcerated, and that you of all people would have
recognised him for what he was. I am sure you realise that several of our
husbands were involved at the time in the supervision and keeping of Novotny. A
government agent was stationed in the house, he worked as a valet for Mr
Lymington as cover, but his purpose was to guard and supervise Novotny. Novotny
was intended by government to advise on some sensitive industrial projects
under charge of the Lymingtons for a period of six months. Mrs Lymington was a
friend of ours. We were aware of the difficulties she and her husband endured
in housing such a guest, but their home was the most remote and secure. We
hoped with her that Novotny would be swiftly moved on.”<br />
<br />
“However that hope was proven a forlorn one when he assaulted and murdered Mrs
Lymington. Her husband and Rose Byrne died in the ensuing struggle.” Niall said
with gentle coldness that matched Mrs Hilton’s.<br />
<br />
Mrs Hilton’s eyes dropped for the first time in the conversation. “As you suspected.
The agent – the valet – allowed himself to be sent out of the house on an
errand. A mistake. Novotny took advantage of his absence. Burke Lymington heard
his wife cry out, and he and Novotny fought. Burke was shot by his own gun in
the struggle. Rose attempted to prevent Mrs Lymington coming to further harm.
She died defending her.”<br />
<br />
“But the bedroom door was locked from the inside, and Rose died on the stairs.”<br />
<br />
“No. The door was not locked until long afterwards, when we left it so.” Mrs
Hilton sounded certain of this. “We staged the scene the police discovered.”<br />
<br />
“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">You</i> staged it?” Niall surveyed
her, startled. “You, as a group?”<br />
<br />
One of the women sitting so upright and still lifted her hands and removed her
hat and veil. The women around her did the same. Elderly women, immaculately
coiffed and made up, but one of the faces struck Niall immediately. It was much
older now, but she was delicate, the elfin look was still around her eyes, and
when she smiled she still looked like a little girl inside a costume.<br />
<br />
“Because of me, Judge Carey. I’m afraid this is all my fault.”<br />
<br />
“Sylvia Varren.” Niall said slowly. “Mrs Lymington. The body that was never
found.”<br />
<br />
“Rose and I together fought Novotny after my husband was shot.” Mrs Lymington
sounded as if that had become no easier to say even after all this time. “I
smashed a brass flower bowl over his head in the struggle. Novotny was
unconscious. Rose died a few moments later. I was with her when she died. I
knew Burke was dead. For those moments I was alone in the house. I was able to
telephone my friends; the houses were close if you remember. We acted swiftly,
and we did not disturb Rose or my husband. We tied Novotny and ensured he was
safe. I was bleeding from several minor injuries. I opened the window in the
bedroom and I placed my blood on the window ledge. I then locked the room from
the inside and I left through the private connecting door to my husband’s rooms
down the hall. It’s a concealed door; the privacy granted to conjugal visits in
grand houses, Mr Carey. The police didn’t notice it.”<br />
<br />
“Why?” Niall asked her. “How did you come to make so immediate a decision-”<br />
<br />
“To disappear? To fake my own death?” Mrs Lymington gave him a somewhat deaths
head smile. “Mr Carey, I’d lost Burke. In the most hideous of circumstances.
Rose was dead. Every instinct I had was screaming at me to flee and never come
back. Burke and I had lived with that – maniac – for weeks under the orders of
my father in law, despite all our protests. I knew that even now they would put
the concealment of Novotny first. And my friends supported me in this. When the
agent returned, he found Novotny tied on the landing and the poor man called
for back up and he and his colleagues made sense of the scene as best he could.
There was of course nothing Novotny could have said that the agents or indeed
any of my friends’ husbands or my father in law would have listened to; they
were dismissed as the ravings of a maniac. It was assumed officially that
Novotny had murdered me and Rose, that my husband had fought and subdued him,
and then committed suicide in grief at his failure and my murder. The agents of
course removed Novotny and every trace of his ever being in the house before
they called the police. You know the rest.”<br />
<br />
“You did not trust the agents or your father in law.”<br />
<br />
“Judge Carey, I saw my husband murdered by a man who should never have been
brought onto American soil.” Mrs Lymington said soberly. “I knew who he was. I
was oh so aware of the wrongness and of the dangers of us sheltering him in our
home. It was a political secret I wanted no part of, one foisted upon us by my
father in law, and I knew very well I was a witness. I wanted only to escape
from it all and to never come back. My friends knew of it all. They understood.
They assisted me to create the scene that allowed me to escape. They moved
quietly to keep information from my father in law and their husbands, and they
made the arrangements for me to disappear. I can only hope you have such
friends who would do the same for you.”<br />
<br />
….Yes. Reflecting on a house in Wyoming, Niall understood that. <br />
<br />
“And you gave the money to Mr Byrne why?” Niall asked. “Guilt?”<br />
<br />
“Because Rose was my friend.” Mrs Lymington said a little defiantly. “I was
young and very stupid when I first married Burke, and Rose was the only reason
I managed. She took me under her wing and showed me everything, how to run a
house, what to wear, how to meet the women you see here and have the
friendships that saved me. There were many secrets among the wives of men such
as we married at the time. Many things that happened that wives were not
permitted to be involved in, were not supposed to see or to question. It was a
time Mr Carey when society believed quite emphatically in the decorative
purpose and general stupidity of well-bred women. Therefore there were many
things we knew among ourselves, many things we organised amongst ourselves and
much knowledge that we kept private and out of sight. Rose was a part of that.
She was a shrewd and intelligent woman, we all of us trusted her. She died
trying to defend me, she was as brave as I at the time was pathetic. When her
father’s name came to light through your submitted writ, we wanted to do for
him what Rose would have wanted. And I have always appreciated more than I can
say that you fought to give her what justice you could and have acknowledged
that a crime was committed against her. Even if you could do no more for her.”<br />
<br />
“And you’re telling me this now why?”<br />
<br />
“The house is to be demolished, Mr Carey. It will be cleared in the next few
weeks, and soon all of this will be gone. We here have only few years left to
tell and know the truth among ourselves; we knew you knew the true story. We
knew you fought for Rose. But most of all because of this.”<br />
<br />
Mrs Lymington drew a large item from beneath the sheet draping down onto the
floor from the chair she sat in. It was silver. A chalice, set with jewels
around the bowl rim and stand. It was unmistakably old, and unmistakeably of a
church.<br />
<br />
“He brought this with him from Europe.” Mrs Lymington said, holding it between
her hands. “I believe it is priceless. He had a number of artefacts apparently
in his possession, most in a bank somewhere, but this was one he gave to my
husband in the name of his safe conduct. We were well aware it was stolen
property, looted during the war. Burke and I loathed having it in the house. On
that night I was determined, if Novotny somehow escaped or was rescued by my
father in law or his associates, he would not carry this any further. I placed it
in a recess in the hidden hallway between mine and my husband’s rooms. It
remained there until today. I would like to pass this to you, Judge Carey. As
an anonymous sender passing you an item of great value lost from somewhere in
Europe during the war. I would like to see it returned to the church from where
it came.”<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
“What did you do with it?” Dale asked, fascinated. Niall pulled out his cell
phone, found a picture and turned the screen for Dale to see.<br />
<br />
“Well James and I found ourselves in a cab in Chicago with this. And it is
probably priceless, I understand it is thirteenth century. We took it to the
Chicago history museum and explained that this had been anonymously entrusted
to me for safe return. They were rather surprised, but once a member of their
team confirmed its validity, they contacted the Monuments Men Foundation, a
relatively new organisation but set up to continue the work of the Monuments,
Fine Art and Archives section of the army at the end of the war in tracing and
returning looted items. They were able to identify this item quite easily from
their records: it was a well-known historic artefact, taken from a cathedral in
Wroclaw, in western Poland. As well as expertise and experience in
international cultural property law the Foundation also have among their
associates a Catholic priest who has a specialty in ecclesiastical art. I
understand he made a rather strong case to the authorities on the grounds of it
being Christmas.”<br />
<br />
“You were able to make arrangements to send it back?”<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Voices were starting to come closer; the crowd in the kitchen were starting to
decamp to the family room and the fire. Niall lowered his voice, casting Dale a
quick and private smile.<br />
<br />
“Even better. I’m told that the priest and a police escort took the chalice
personally to Poland yesterday morning. The chalice will have participated in
this morning’s Christmas mass in its rightful place, for the first time since
the war. It’s seemed rather a fitting conclusion.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The End</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><b> Copyright Rolf and Ranger 2021 </b></i><br /></span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>tarabeth1210http://www.blogger.com/profile/14902928357845152351noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3812077977994131831.post-4695151709367475412021-07-10T16:02:00.001-07:002021-07-10T16:02:08.954-07:00Without Ribbons<p>
</p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="TitleChar"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-size: 26.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Without Ribbons </span></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;"><span class="SubtitleChar"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; font-weight: normal; line-height: 115%;">By Rolf and Ranger</span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Heading1Char"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Part 1</span></span> <br />
He was lounging against the wall, as he does, in a raggy t shirt that was
bulging over golden biceps, and raggier jeans which after months of hanging
around the desert were threadbare at the knees and tattered at the ankles. It
wasn’t fitting well with the bare, white walls and the brightly lit electrics
across the ceiling, or with the blaring of Spanish Christmas pop hits over the
Bogota airport tannoy. He saw me surveying him, winked at me and passed his
coffee over. I wasn’t surprised he’d acquired one. Put the man near
civilisation for thirty seconds and he’s found the coffee. I took the cardboard
cup and knocked back a large mouthful. I needed it. Beau, shouldering her bag,
gave me an askance look.<br />
<br />
<br />
“You are seriously going then?”<br />
<br />
<br />
I held up the tickets I’d just collected. She raised her eyebrows at Jake. She
looked out of place here too, but then Beau looks out of place more or less
anywhere. People tend to stare at her height, the sharp nose and brow and the
white blond spiky hair, and the fact that she makes equally ragged jeans and a
battered and dusty shirt look like something off an expensively grunge runway.
Jake stopped propping the wall up and gave her one of the thorough hugs he
always gives Beau when he says goodbye to her. It always reminds me that when
they were teenagers together they only had each other who was not only gay, but
as disproportionately large. A pair of fair high school giants. Weirdness is
considerably easier when shared. This was where we separated. Bill had left to
catch his plane to Heathrow and Spitz to Madrid; both of them heading out
yesterday morning while we stayed to finish off the last details with the local
government and the museum teams who were taking over the site. After eight
weeks of hanging together around the rust red wilderness near Popayan it was
odd to be parting. <br />
<br />
<br />
“Madrid. January fourth,” Beau told Jake when she let him go. “Or Vienna if you
get bored sooner.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“We won’t be bored,” Jake assured her. Beau did not look convinced. Her family
were currently based in the embassy in Vienna, so she had at least one cocktail
party in her near future, if not several. She wasn’t looking forward to it. I’d
seen her before in a floor length gown like some Amazon ice princess with a
glass in her hand, doing her best to be social but mostly petrifying anyone she
approached. It wasn’t something she exactly enjoyed, compared to being up to
her ears in dust, mud, rock and either overheating or freezing, often while
being lost. That we all had a bit of a taste for.<br />
<br />
<br />
Dorje, serene in his battered woollen hat that he wore regardless of the
weather, gave me a smile and an offered hand. He too was going to Vienna; he’d
have been more than welcome with any of us, but he was quietly racking up the
number of countries he’d seen with a lot of satisfaction. Vienna was new to him
and he would keep Beau sane until January.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Merry Christmas my friend. Enjoy yourself.”<br />
<br />
<br />
I kissed his cheek, took Beau’s arm long enough to kiss her too, then raised my
hands, grabbed my rucksack and jerked my head at Jake, heading for the gate.<br />
<br />
<br />
“That’s it, I’m done, that’s as good as it gets. Forbes, let’s go.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Dorje grinned at me. Jake laughed, gave Dorje a rough hug in passing and ambled
after me. “Merry Christmas.”<br />
<br />
<br />
I handed the tickets and our battered passports to the man at our gate who
raised his eyebrows somewhat at the crowded pages, but nodded us through to our
seats. First class. Jake had insisted and I hadn’t been able to do anything
with him. Whatever the cabin crew thought of the two of us looking like a pair
of tramps they were too polite to do anything but smile. Jake waited for me to
take the seat by the window, which admittedly was wider and deeper with a lot
more leg room than I’d expected, and took the seat next to me, slouching
comfortably into it.<br />
<br />
<br />
“I am not panicking,” I informed him. He pulled a book out of his pocket and
propped his knee against the bulkhead, fencing me in. The cabin crewman,
approaching us with alcohol since apparently the combination of it being a
little past five am and air travel made it appropriate to be drinking at this
hour, gave me a reassuring smile.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Nothing to worry about sir, we’ll get you there.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“That’s mostly what he’s worried about.” Jake accepted two glasses from the
tray and passed one to me. “Thank you. We’ll hit the hard liquor once we’re off
the ground.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Champagne at this hour is ridiculous,” I told him, swallowing a large mouthful
much as I had the coffee and for much the same reason. <br />
<br />
<br />
“And we’ll have to buy clothes as soon as we get there, if there is any
clothing to buy in an airport right now that isn’t crazed ski wear.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Jake passed me his glass to hold, dug a hand unerringly into the pocket of my
backpack and handed me the letter I’d been carrying around for some weeks. Then
he took his glass, his book, slouched a little more so that his shoulder was at
an inviting level to lean on, and peacefully settled in to read as the plane
began to taxi.<br />
<br />
<br />
I put my seatbelt on, poked him until he buckled up himself and the cabin crew
weren’t forced to make him, and put the letter… into my jacket pocket. I didn’t
need to look at it. I knew what it said. I knew every word by heart, I’d been
reading it for weeks. It was in Flynn’s handwriting, which was much more neat
and formal than usual. More in the style that Dale and Paul usually wrote,
complete with immaculate notepaper in the kind of invitation I used to see my
mother send out by the dozen. And which, damnit, showed how well he knew me. It
was in the blood; I couldn’t help but respond to formality like this.<br />
<br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tom, we would very much love to have you
with us through the holiday, and I know your company would mean a great deal to
Riley and Dale</i>.<br />
<br />
<br />
What the hell were you supposed to do with that? This was why nobody sane went
around making friends with psychologists.<br />
<br />
<br />
I swallowed more champagne, watching the rainy Columbia dawn pass by the
rolling plane. An actual, in a house, with tree and people, type Christmas.
Seriously. Us. We were doing it. Here we went.<br />
<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
We had a layover in Dallas long enough to ransack the airport for clothes; the
kind of ubiquitous stuff we tend to grab whenever we need to stuff the rags
we’re currently wearing in the nearest bin. It was mostly ski wear. A sports
shop provided lined trousers and soft shell fleeces since we’d be knee deep in
snow out there. Another store provided corduroys and underwear, and that covered
most of it since we both kept a basic stock of jeans and stuff at the ranch
now…. which was still a fairly new thing for me. I hesitated over the t shirts
I usually would have taken the nearest and least brightly coloured of, looking
at Jake who was assembling sleep wear. Which we hadn’t bothered with in weeks;
it had been warm out in Popayan, but wandering to the bathroom at night in a
house full of guests required the politeness of not being starkers.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Are we supposed to be taking anything more respectable if they’re doing
dinners or whatever?”<br />
<br />
<br />
I had horrible memories of my parents many, many dinner parties at this time of
year when the house tended to be full of guests from mid November through to
early January. Most of it had been black tie level stuff. Jake gave me a nod
over a rack of neon cycling shorts.<br />
<br />
<br />
“We can probably rent the tuxes in Jackson. Dress shoes might be harder, but
there’s probably silk ties somewhere here.”<br />
<br />
<br />
For the split second before his straight face cracked and he started to laugh
at my expression, he really did have me. I gave him a glare that promised I’d
get him for that the moment I got him somewhere without witnesses, and went
back to the t shirts. “That’s not funny.”<br />
<br />
<br />
His aqua eyes glinted back at me, promising me he’d look forward to it. “You
know them. You’ve stayed in that house, you know we’ll all be out with cattle
multiple times a day, can you imagine Riley or Flynn in a tie? How formal do
you think it gets?”<br />
<br />
<br />
Yeah there was no point in him being all reasonable. I still grabbed a couple
of proper shirts and sweaters as the kind of thing Dale and Flynn and the
others mostly hung around the house in, and which was slightly less ‘look
sideways at me and I’m going to go camping’ than our usual fleeces.<br />
<br />
<br />
We rented some bathroom suite type effort in the terminal, and showered
together where I spent several minutes sorting him out for that tux crack. He
mostly helped rather than resisted, but then he’s like that. It’s always a
rather striking experience getting properly clean when it’s the first time in
weeks. We lingered for a while under the hot water, shaved, and changed into
the new clothes, which left us both looking somewhat more respectable. Hair was
harder; we were both distinctly shaggy, but Jake at least carries that off
well. In crisp jeans, a blue fleece and a turquoise ski jacket since they were
the only coats for sale here and we were going to need them, he looked fit and
active as we boarded our next flight.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Can’t we collect Wade?” I’d asked Jake a few weeks ago when he’d been reading
out bits of a letter from Paul to me while we sat in the shade and took a break
from the trench we’d been digging. “We’re nearest to Texas right now, it adds
hours onto the journey for everyone else.”<br />
<br />
<br />
It seemed ridiculous to drag anyone else all that way when it was no effort for
us to divert a bit. And it was the family thing to do, wasn’t it? I did try
about this stuff. Really. Jake had agreed. We’d offered. <br />
Apparently Wade was quite enthusiastic about the idea.<br />
<br />
<br />
It was only an hour and a half flight from Dallas to Corpus Christi, and then a
cab ride out to the street address Jake knew. I wondered how many times he’d
been out here before; he hadn’t since I’d known him, but then he stuffs
postcards in boxes to plenty of people in weird locations whenever we can get
stamps. He ran up the steps of the building to knock at the door of the
apartment. I followed, with mixed feelings since while I’d always liked Wade
and time with him was never a chore, this was definitely the start of full
Christmas-type involvement. The steps distracted me, I climbed them looking
rather askance at the steepness. This wasn’t the best place for someone of
Wade’s age.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Does he manage on these?”<br />
<br />
<br />
Jake leaned on the rail, waiting for the door to be answered. “James and Luath
keep a fairly close eye on it, but he lived here with Charlie for twenty years.
He doesn’t want to move on.”<br />
<br />
<br />
I understood that, although I couldn’t imagine a house Jake and I could stay
put in for twenty years. It wasn’t in our blood. Wade, considerably smarter
than either of us in a jacket, sweater and shirt, opened the door with a phone
to his ear, patted Jake, waved to me and herded us inside, still talking.<br />
<br />
<br />
“I don’t Jimbo, if I knew any more I’d tell you. Yes, it’s them. No I won’t
give the phone to Jacob, go and boil your head. In Chicago. Well if you won’t
tell me why you’re going to Chicago I’ll just text Niall. I don’t know why
you’re bothering to act like it’s some spy mission you’re both– no, I’m <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i> giving the phone to Jacob.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Jake, who had been listening with interest, put a hand over Wade’s shoulder and
took the phone off him at this point. Since Wade was nearly two foot shorter
than him, it wasn’t difficult. Wade rolled his eyes at me and went to get the
suitcase waiting in the little galley kitchen.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Tops. Can’t live with them…. Period.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“James, it’s me,” Jake said without heat, lounging against Wade’s kitchen
counter. I took the suitcase from Wade, appreciating how small and light it
was. I didn’t see many of the family guys bring much with them to the ranch;
they rarely needed to. I had seen them disappear upstairs in the street clothes
they arrived in, and come down a few minutes later in the ubiquitous jeans,
shirts and sweaters they all wore without minding about them getting inevitably
covered with grass, horse hair, dog hair, hay, straw, engine oil, mud and
worse. They all looked more at home dressed that way too; the house was always
an informal and practical place. In an admittedly comfortable way. Which
explained a lot of Jake laughing at me this morning; I did know this stuff. And
from what I understood from Dale and Riley, it took Paul practically threats
and holding the orange juice hostage before Flynn dressed in anything neater. I
didn’t seriously expect there to be dressing up or anything else alarming, not
really. It was just………<br />
<br />
<br />
About being bloody terrified.<br />
<br />
<br />
Wade nodded me into the small sitting room, taking me aside from Jake who was
making <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mhm </i>noises at the
phone.<br />
<br />
<br />
“It’s all gone fubar as usual, this lot never do anything in an organised way.
James isn’t meeting us at Jackson, he and Niall are going to Chicago. As you
do, without warning, this close to Christmas. It was a pain of a city when they
lived there, I have no idea why they want to go back but it’s probably some
crisis Niall has to go sort out.” Wade’s eyes assessed me. They were always
lively, I enjoyed this man’s sense of humour as much as his sharpness, neither
of which were remotely dulled by his age, but there was a care behind it this
morning that reminded me that Wade, like Jake, had once been a cop and had done
his share of breaking bad news. “The other crisis no one could get hold of you
two to tell you about since you were gadding about digging up pyramids or something;
Dale dragged Flynn out a couple of days ago to some shipyard in Wisconsin for
some meeting he had to go deal with, and the shipyard exploded. Dale ended up
in hospital overnight. He’s ok, he’s fine,” he added swiftly before I had time
to take the first part in. “Scans all clear, he was released within twenty four
hours – which Paul said was a relief since even with Flynn there he was
terrorising the nurses. You know what he’s like. But he’s got a concussion and
it’s messing with his vision. It means they can’t fly either, so Flynn’s
driving him back in stages and swears he’ll have him back to the ranch by
Christmas Eve.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“And that’s how far?” I asked warily. Wade’s eyes were kind, but I could see
that yes, he was concerned about this himself.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Yeah, it’s a good couple of thousand miles. But Flynn’s a good driver, they’re
doing a few hours a day.”<br />
<br />
<br />
I took that in, picking up on the many implications involved. “How’s Paul
doing?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“About how you’d expect with Dale having been hospitalised and Flynn on his own
with it all,” Wade said wryly. “But if there was anything to really worry about
they would say so. We don’t keep stuff from each other like that. It’s
annoying, not dangerous.”<br />
<br />
<br />
I was willing to bet Dale was somewhat more than annoyed. The thought of him
stuck out in Wisconsin was not a pleasant one. Wade gave me a gentle thump on
the arm and grabbed a coat. Despite his liking for the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’m an old man, don’t ask anything of me</i> image,
he was ready and the small apartment was neat and well kept. I paused with him
to glance at a photograph on the wall by a small upright clock, not unlike a
miniature version of the one in the family room of the ranch. <br />
<br />
<br />
“Is that your Charlie?”<br />
<br />
<br />
Wade paused beside me, giving the picture a satisfied nod. “Yes. That’s my
Charlie.”<br />
<br />
<br />
We looked together for a moment. The man in police uniform looked powerfully
set, and he had very much the same kind of liveliness in his smile that Wade
did; not someone you’d expect to be a Top. But then few of the family ones fit
neatly into the stereotypes, mine included. Mine at that point came out of the
kitchen, handing Wade his phone back.<br />
<br />
<br />
“James says to show me your medication, and to let you know he rang the
community nurse.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Wade looked at me and rolled his eyes. “I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did</i> tell her I’d be away.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Well he feels the need to make sure, after the last time you went without
telling her and she had the police department break the door open in case you’d
fallen,” Jake said fairly. Wade grinned.<br />
<br />
<br />
“I knew the Chief on duty. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He</i> thought
it was funny.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Jake caught my eye, not responding to that. I watched Wade pull his coat on and
dig in his suitcase for his medication since he obviously realised that Jake
would wait indefinitely until he did.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Do we need to leave a crate of brandy or something for this woman?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“You’re as bad as Paul.” Wade told me. “No; because Paul does. And Luath does.
And James does. For some reason half the family Tops send her alcohol at
Christmas, she must get completely soused until new year. You’d think I was hard
work or something. Medication. <br />
There, there, there and there.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Jake glanced through the packages and nodded. “And the other one?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“I’m going to get a box to stand on and throttle James.” Wade complained,
heading for the bathroom. “He can make me take it with me. He can’t make me
swallow the damn stuff.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Want a bet?” Jake invited. I heard Wade’s growl in the distance.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
<br />
Wade turned
out to be remarkably spry on the steps, and although we moderated our stride
carefully – the two of us have long legs and we do tend to move at speed that
scares passers by if we’re not thinking about it – he walked easily through the
airport swinging his walking stick and beaming like a cat with several
canaries. He was a seasoned traveller, he happily waved tickets and passports
at the right people and led the way to the right gate, watching Jake escort us
with a lot of satisfaction.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Always travel,” he informed me having been chatted up by the airport staff
woman at passport control who was moving her eyes between this dapper old man
and Jake and I looming over him like a pair of minders who went skiing a lot in
their free time, “with a pair of very tall, good looking young men. It’s the
only way.”<br />
<br />
<br />
He was loving the attention; I could see it. It made it rather a pleasure to be
able to provide it for him. Jake went to get coffee once we reached the
departure lounge, quick Wade said, to get as much caffeine in the system as
possible before we reached Wyoming and it became a licenced substance, and I
sat with Wade on a bench, watching him scan the departures board.<br />
<br />
<br />
“It’s all a bit different now,” he told me, nodding at the board. “I remember
when everything spun and clacked. Or they just stood in the doorway and
shouted.”<br />
<br />
<br />
He’d been in the Air Force. I knew that. Wade glanced across at me with rather
an ironic smile.<br />
<br />
<br />
“I used to look a lot like you look now whenever I had to fly anywhere. After
the war, flying used to scare the pants off me. There was a time when Charlie
and I used to take a train out to wherever James and Niall were at the time and
we’d fly home for Christmas from there because it took both James and Charlie
to get me on a plane.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“They made you do it?”<br />
<br />
<br />
Wade smiled. “Oh not in that way, I was perfectly willing to do it in theory.
And once I was on board it was pretty much ok; it was just the getting on that
was hard. If they were both there with me I could handle it.”<br />
<br />
<br />
I knew what this elderly brat was sharing with me: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">there’s plenty of us in this group who do the freak outs and the
dramas. You’re one of us; this is ok</i>. And it occurred to me then too,
his loudly basking in the glory of having two personal assistants with him, was
distracting me and everyone else’s attention away from me in an hour when being
invisible was very much what I wanted. It was kind. Far more kind than I
deserved.<br />
<br />
<br />
“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">You</i> had good reason,” I said,
trying to keep as much acid out of my voice as possible.<br />
<br />
<br />
Wade patted my knee, tactfully lowering his voice as Jake came our way with
coffee and what looked suspiciously to me like donuts.<br />
<br />
<br />
“You know what? I’ve known this lot a long time. I won’t let any of them eat
you. You have Riley. You have me. The brat division have you covered. You’re
definitely going to live through it.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Later, he poked around a few of the airport stores by the gate, doing, as he
put it, a last minute bit of Christmas shopping.<br />
<br />
<br />
“What are we supposed to take and who’s going to be there?” I’d demanded of
Jake at about five am one morning November when the sun was coming up over the
desert, the ramifications of Flynn’s invitation were heavy on my mind and there
was a huge lack of any Christmas shopping opportunities anywhere within miles
of us. “I don’t know the names of half of them, I know nothing about them-”<br />
<br />
<br />
“We don’t really do gift giving.” Jake stretched in his sleeping bag until his
shoulders cracked. “Come back to bed, its barely light.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“What do you mean you don’t do it? It’s Christmas, and Paul’s feeding the five
thousand from what I can work out. We’re at least going to need to take wine or
something,”<br />
<br />
<br />
Jake leaned over until he located a bit of me he could grasp and since I had to
follow my ankle, I ended up crashing down on top of him. He rolled over to keep
me still, nipping my ear.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Stop pumping me for details you can worry about. We never have done much
gifting. Too many of us, too expensive, not necessary. Philip didn’t encourage
it. People bring groceries to help out, they bring games, that kind of thing.
Particular friends swap token small things if they want to, that’s private
between them, but it’s never a big thing.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“And you do what each year?” I demanded, since staying coherent with his tongue
in my ear is a skill I’ve put in a lot of practice on. He shrugged.<br />
<br />
<br />
“We’ve all kind of got our particular bits covered so we don’t end up with nine
hams and nothing else. I do fruit and flowers, I’ve done it for years whether
I’m there or not. A basket of both goes to Paul a few days before everyone gets
there. He likes the flower arrangements on the tables and the fruit helps him
with cooking and feeding the hoards.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Argh. I had, since he and I got together, done the right thing and ensured a
Christmas card went to the ranch signed by us both, demonstrating that I was
properly respectful to Jake’s extended family and did at least do the really
basic civilised things, even if I couldn’t do normal things like stay in the
house or have a conversation. I’d done my duty in that way. I’d never known
about the baskets he sent. There was the guilt he’d been trying to save me.<br />
<br />
<br />
“I am useless with this. All I know is what I remember from my mother;” I said
grimly. “Champagne. She kept boxes of it to hand for emergencies. If she didn’t
know what to give someone, it was always champagne.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“I think Dale’s mother works the same way,” Jake said dryly. “I hear a crate of
the stuff appears at his head office every December. From what Paul says,
Dale’s PA has standing orders to take or donate it however she wants to.”<br />
<br />
<br />
That didn’t surprise me. <br />
<br />
<br />
“No one at the ranch drinks much, do they?” I asked him, thinking about. “Even
without clients about.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Someone’ll bring a few bottles of wine for Christmas day, but no.” Jake
agreed. “Philip wasn’t big on drinking either. We never have kept much around
and it’s a special occasion thing.”<br />
<br />
<br />
I did quite like that. It seemed as sensible to me as an edict that expensive
and excessive gift swapping was unnecessary, and the whole not dressing up
part. Philip might have been before my time, but as was usually the case
whenever I heard anything about Philip, I was finding his presence to be a
soothing one. <br />
<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
<br />
Jackson was
knee deep in skiiers and tourists. The ranch was knee deep in snow.<br />
<br />
<br />
I’d never seen Teton forest in the winter. It was beautiful. Watching it flash
by the car window I fought with the longing raised by the drifts and the
starkness of the trees and the colour of the sky to get out there hiking in it.
To be in it. Touching it. If Jake and I had been alone we would have done. We’d
probably have been doing well to have made it to the ranch before dark. As it
was, Wade told me about the places he’d hiked in there and the people he’d
known who lived out in the wilds of this area, and Jake drove down through the
forest as if we were both sane, and then the hour further on down the road
until he turned into the drive under the ranch sign. The car skidded slightly
on the impacted track between banks of ploughed snow. A tractor was visible out
in the pasture, with several bales of hay on the front. I could see cattle in the
distance with men in jackets, scarves and hats clambering through the snow
beneath them as they worked. A number of the horses under heavy blankets and
jackets were grazing at the food bins in the sheltered enclosure to the side of
the house that they barely used at all through the rest of the year other than
for vaccinating or vetting cattle. Smoke was lifting out of the chimney of the
ranch house, the porch roof was heavy with snow but the steps were freshly
cleared. This was already looking better from my point of view: after hours on
planes and in a car my legs were itching to do some clambering around pastures,
and if nothing else I’d have an excuse to get out and clear the porch and steps
of ice again every couple of hours. Hard physical work would help. With that to
keep me together, I could look relatively normal.<br />
<br />
<br />
Jake tucked the car tight into the fence beside the pasture along the line of
several other hired cars. It made my stomach clench painfully. The house was
going to be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">full</i>. Yes, Jake and
I had been around relatively often in the past year or two, but we picked our
times. It was usually just Dale and his four people here, and occasionally a
couple of the others, which was fine when it was just the few of them. This was
The Lot. All of them. And somewhere in the past few years I’d shifted,
painfully, from keeping my distance while not quite being able to stay away, to
wanting very much to belong. These were alarmingly important people to me; I
was prepared to admit it. And yes, that did mean all of them, even the ones I’d
never met, because this family business was about the unit as a whole. At an
alarmingly important time of year to them. These family rituals mattered to
this group who had belonged to Philip and David; it was a part of what held
them together, and many of them – us – had little other family they belonged
to.<br />
<br />
<br />
Several men came straight down the steps to the car, someone going to give Wade
a hand to get out; they didn’t include anyone I recognised. There was a lot of
hugging of Jake and Wade, a lot of loud greetings going on, several of them
smiled and waved in my direction and for a moment, awfully, my main and
reflexive urge was to escape as fast as possible. Flynn and Dale not being
here, both of them being people who speak fluent antisocial git, was harder
than I’d anticipated. Jake unhurriedly handed Wade’s suitcase to someone,
closed the trunk and ambled towards me, both our coats in hand.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Come on then.”<br />
<br />
<br />
He had put himself between me and the crowd, who in all fairness were hustling
with Wade up the steps and into the warmth of the house in a helpful sort of
way, leaving us alone. The noise was subsiding. Jake, who is large enough to
get away with this sort of thing, barged into me, walking in the way that just
shoves me ahead of him until he got me walking. After a moment I took my coat
from him and put it on, zipping it up. It was stiff and new, but warm, and I
was grateful for the gloves we’d thought to buy. We walked out down the line of
currently empty pastures, through about two feet of snow which made walking
satisfyingly hard, and within a minute we were out in blessed silence save for
the squeak and crunch of our boots on snow, surrounded by white, with open land
all around us.<br />
<br />
<br />
That helped.<br />
<br />
<br />
Close to, the aspen woods were a white winter wonderland, crisp with snow. The
sheer beauty of it after weeks of stark desert was striking. We walked slowly
all the way to the end of the fence line, and there Jake paused, leaning on his
elbows to look down in the direction of the mountains. They weren’t in sight
this afternoon. There was a thick, grey cloud over the white covered pastures
which disappeared into fog. More snow coming in. I gazed at it with him for a
long time before my brain registered what I’d known since Wade told us the
news; with Flynn and Dale down, and Jasper gone too, in a few hours they were
going to need every fit and able body in the house to keep the stock going. Now
I was glad for that reason alone that we were here. I felt guilty about how much
having that reason helped.<br />
<br />
<br />
“We need to dump our bags, see if Paul’s all right and see if Riley needs a
hand,” I said to Jake, digging him in the ribs to stop him admiring the view.
“What needs doing? Are they going to keep the cattle out all night in this if
it snows the way it’s looking like?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Yes. We’ll be out checking on them, we generally take that in turns.” Jake
leaned on the fence, looking down at me. I shook my head at him.<br />
<br />
“Stop lounging around and come on. Do something useful.”</p>
<h1>Part 2</h1>
<p class="MsoNormal">The tractor was pulling into the yard as we got there, the
huge wheels caked in white. Riley jumped down from the cab. He was heavily
coated up and he had his Stetson pulled down over his brow, but he came to me,
giving me a rough hug with the welcome that is always sincere, in the way he’s
sincere about everything.. “Hey! You made it! How are the knees? Knocking
together yet?<br />
<br />
<br />
I wasn’t going to answer that truthfully. “How’s Dale doing?” I asked instead.
<br />
<br />
<br />
“Oh you know him,” Riley said lightly in a tone that wasn’t convincing at all,
“Always all the drama. Flynn swears he’s ok, they should ring in a couple of
hours. Hey Jake.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Jake hugged him back. “Want us to do anything?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Not right now, it’s pretty much done.” Riley was fidgeting on the spot I could
see him doing it. He glanced out to the pasture where several other figures
were hauling hay bales into position. “I’ve had plenty of help, Luthe and Darcy
came last week since Dale and Flynn were headed out and they knew we’d need
help. Ger and Ash dropped everything and came early when they heard about the
accident. Ger wouldn’t admit it, but he’s great with the cattle and he knows
the winter work backwards; once he turned up Jas could go. And Bear and Theo
got here this morning, and Bear’s worth two pairs of hands by himself when
there’s heavy stock work.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Yes, I’d seen that; physical competency was always something I couldn’t help
noticing. Bear was a solid, powerful worker, and while Gerry liked to make it
look as if he was afraid to break a fingernail, I’d seen him in action; there
was nothing on the ranch he couldn’t do. Ash knew enough to be competent in
helping him, but it was Gerry who was the rancher.<br />
<br />
<br />
Riley nodded at the line of cars. “And then everyone’s come today,
and pitched straight in. The yard work’s done, everything’s shovelled and
ploughed, we’ve got the stock in hand, so we’re good for a couple of hours.
It’s going to be tonight we need to stay on top of things, if that,” his nod at
the sky took in the grey, “does what it looks like it’s going to. I’m going to
get a shower, get warm and get something to eat. If you’ve been on planes all
day are you wanting to get out and exercise?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“We’ll probably hike some this afternoon,” Jake said comfortably, walking with
us across the yard and up the kitchen steps. There was only Paul in the
kitchen. I heeled off my boots alongside Riley and Jake, a familiar thing to do
when coming in this familiar door, breathing in the smell of fresh bread
baking, some kind of casserole, and seeing the table covered end to end in
chopped vegetables, bowls and dishes and whatever Paul was currently working
on. It looked like he was cooking for an army. That annoyed me more than
slightly. In all this stress, with three of his partners missing, here he was,
stuck trying to manage and cater for a houseful of guests. He looked calm, his
usual self, although he always does. When he saw us I thought the smile was a
very slightly taut one. I abandoned my coat on the back of a chair and went to
hug him, awkwardly but he looked to me like he needed it.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Are you ok? How are they? Where are they?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“At the moment? Ash Hollow, I hope. Which is out on the plains, they’re more
than halfway home. Hello sweetheart, I’m so pleased to see you.” He did need
the hug. I felt him hold on a little longer than necessary, and without doing
what he must have wanted to do: all the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">good grief, you are actually here, I don’t believe you’re going through
with this, did Jake drug you?</i> questions Paul is always too kind for.
“Flynn planned today as a rest day, he only drove a couple of hours this
morning and they’re spending the afternoon and tonight in some hotel or
something Dale’s PA found that was open and taking guests, he wanted Dale to
have the break from the car and travelling.” He let me go, pausing to look at
my face as he does, as if he’s checking I’m still properly there and the same
way I was when he last saw me. “You look well. Are you starved? Driven mad by
planes and sitting? You’re going to do this however you two need to, Thomas; accept
that now. You live here and you make yourselves comfortable any way you want,
so you grab whatever you need from the pantry and go hike, or run, or drive out
to the springs or whatever you need, hear me? The point is that you’re supposed
to enjoy yourself. No feeling like you have to put on an act. No suffering to
be polite.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Oh I need that on a t shirt,” Gerry said fervently, appearing behind me and
waving a glass in our direction as he searched the fridge. His cheekbones were
scarlet from the cold outside and from the heavy socks he was wearing he’d
spent a lot of today in heavy boots in the snow. “Jacob! Hello Tom, it is
really rather lovely to see you two.” He poured orange juice into his glass,
kissed Jake as he passed, and casually wandered out again, calling over his
shoulder, “I threw Darcy out of his room and commandeered it; Ash and I are in
there and Darcy’s moved in with Luath, so your room is free.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">If</i> you want it.” Paul added
firmly as Gerry breezed out. In a tactful way without a backward glance, and I
was very touched by the gesture he’d just made. And the welcome it implied,
since I knew that had been his room long before Jake and I started using it on
our visits. “If you’d rather be out in the bunkhouse then that’s fine too,”<br />
<br />
<br />
Jake was looking out of the window, being entirely unhelpful. I took the kettle
out of Paul’s hand before he could do anything else, filling it and starting to
get down mugs.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Give that to me, I’ll do it. If you’re short Flynn, Jasper and Dale then we’re
staying here where Ri can get help through the night as he needs it. It’s not
like I sleep anyway, I can at least do something useful. What do you need
doing? Is Dale coping with all this? Is Flynn all right?”<br />
<br />
<br />
Paul relinquished the stove to me with what looked like a sigh of relief, and
sat down in the chair Jake drew out for him. Jake sat down beside him, hung an
arm over his shoulder and I saw Paul lean into him and hug him rather tightly.
He looked tired; I doubted he was sleeping well, worrying about whatever was
going on with Dale and Flynn.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Flynn is clear that they’re doing ok. They were offered a driver, but he
wanted to do the driving himself. He feels safer about taking Dale on bad roads
if he’s the one behind the wheel. And if they’re alone together then it’s
easier for him to help Dale stay calm. That’s the hard part. The loss of
vision’s been alarming. It’s not black, he can see colour but everything’s
blurred and he can’t make sense of it, the concussion’s disorganised his
brain’s visual centres. It’s improving, he was able to make out outlines
yesterday, but he’s totally dependent on Flynn and it must be terrifying.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Yes. For all of them, in several ways. I avoided his eye, knowing we were both
thinking the same thing. Paul knew exactly how much I got how hard it was for
Dale to handle feeling less than 100%. Depending on was something Dale and I
only really did well in situations of complete calm and stability, when
everything was going well and we were concentrating. I warmed the tea pot, dumped
the leaf tea in from the tin and topped it with boiling water as the kettle
began to shrill. Jake was still sitting with his arm heavy around Paul’s
shoulders, and he was doing a good job; Paul didn’t look in any hurry to move.
I put the pot on the table, brought the milk and mugs over, and took the chair
on the other side.<br />
<br />
<br />
“And Jasper’s gone to meet them?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Yes, Riley and Luath took him out to the garage last night, he’s hitch hiking
out from there.” Paul said mildly. “He said once he reached the main routes it
would be easy to get lifts to where he needed to be. He knows their stops, he
thought he’d probably meet up with them tonight some time. They don’t know he’s
headed out towards them, so don’t mention it to them if they call; he thought
it was more stress they didn’t need.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“How’s Riley doing?”<br />
<br />
<br />
Paul gave me a slightly rueful smile. “Like a cat on hot bricks. He wanted to
go straight out to Wisconsin when it happened, and he wasn’t pleased at Jasper
going alone. But hopefully we’ll hear from them this evening and Flynn’s
intending for them to reach here Christmas Eve morning. He’s satisfied Dale’s
coping ok with the pace they’re setting so far, particularly with today for
some down time.”<br />
And how he was feeling sat here with the phone while all this went on, was
plain, despite him doing the whole Top face. Ash, Gerry’s partner, wandered in
with some empty cups, smiled at me and Jake and went to wash them up. “Wade’s
fallen asleep on the study couch. Once he sat down and stopped, he was gone in
about five minutes. The gang in there have got an eye on him. Can I do anything
here?”<br />
<br />
<br />
I gave the table a somewhat expressive look. Paul reached over to squeeze my
arm.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Hey. I had an army in here washing up from lunch, the house has been cleaned
to within an inch of its life, and there’s about six people braced and ready to
take over cooking if I want. I’ve been fighting them off all morning. I like
cooking. It’s calming, it helps me think, and at the moment I’ve got nothing
else to do. I’m being well taken care of. Are you sure you two want to be here
and not over in the bunkhouse?”<br />
<br />
<br />
I looked at Jake. I knew he was leaving the decision to me; if he thought we
needed to be out there he’d have said so and he wouldn’t have consulted me in
the process. I could read his calm blue eyes over Paul’s head, relaxed and easy
despite sitting with his arm around Paul, as if none of this was a problem. I
gave him a slight nod in reply. <br />
<br />
<br />
There was no damn way we were heading out of here and leaving Paul and Riley
without support. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
<br />
Our room was exactly as I’d last seen it this autumn when we came by for a few
days on our way to Columbia. I appreciated that. I’d taken Jake’s example of
leaving our things in a named box in the linen closet, which held a number of
such boxes on the shelves amongst the towels and bedding and spare pillows.
Jake retrieved that on our way. The whole house was busy. I honestly didn’t
know how many men were here, I hadn’t tried to count, but on the way upstairs I
glanced through the open study door and a cluster of older men were in there
around a sleeping Wade. Several more were playing cards by the fire in the
family room, and I could hear the shower running and the creak of people moving
around in their rooms as we came down the landing. Jake opened a door off the
turn of the hall near our room, and leaned back for me to see.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Attic rooms up there.”<br />
<br />
<br />
I glanced up the carpeted stairs, nodding acceptance of what he was showing me.
If we were going to hear people coming down the hall and moving around above
us, it helped to know who they were, where they were and what they were doing.<br />
<br />
<br />
“What do you want to do?” I demanded of Jake as we stuffed new clothes out of
our rucksacks into the chest of drawers. Jake folded one rucksack inside the
other and put them out of the way, under the bed.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Hike. Like we said. It’ll be a couple of hours before any more stock work is
needed.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“I’m not leaving Paul to watch the phone and sweat.” I said sharply. Jake shook
his head.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Paul means what he says. He’ll cook, he’ll chat to whoever’s around, and
that’s how he keeps his mind off it. But Ri won’t have done anything but work
today.”<br />
<br />
<br />
And Riley was highly twitchy. He was right; that was something we could
usefully do.<br />
<br />
<br />
Jake led the way down the hall to Paul’s room, which made me realise Riley must
have moved in with Paul temporarily to free up his room for someone else. Riley
was halfway into a clean sweater and shot me a smile although it looked
half-hearted to me.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Hey. The crowd’s coming in from outside; you might want some space for a
while.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“We’re headed out to the woods, we’ve been sitting all day.” Jake leaned
against the doorpost, watching him and his voice was casual. <br />
<br />
<br />
“Do the shires still like deep snow?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Always.” Riley shrugged the sweater straight. “I want to be around though in
case they phone.”<br />
<br />
<br />
No need to ask who ‘they’ were. Jake nodded comprehension.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Will they call now?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“……no.” Riley admitted a little unwillingly. “Not before this evening, they
know we’ll be in and out.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Then come do something fun for a while.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“I’ve been shoving the tractor around all morning, it’s not like I haven’t been
out-”<br />
<br />
<br />
“I know. Come play with a horse.” Jake held out a hand, waiting. I know when
Jake intends to be an immovable pain about something. Riley knows too, and he
sighed, but took it. It’s always a bit- odd to watch Jake doing this with Dale
or Riley. Or Wade, this morning. Usually when he’s doing the whole subtle <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">stop thinking about that and come and do
this</i> bit on me, I’m too preoccupied to notice. Ri of course didn’t
think twice; he was too used to it. And he – and I - were here in a house full
of Tops. We were knee deep in Tops.<br />
<br />
<br />
It was a thought invoking mixed feelings to be honest.<br />
<br />
<br />
Riley tramped with us down the fence line, quiet but keeping pace. And while
Jake and I hiked through the snow down to the woods and appreciated the work
out, Riley led us down to one of the giant shires from the paddock at the end,
who had come trotting down to the fence to see us and who began to dance at the
sight of Riley with a rope head collar. Riley opened the gate, put the collar
over her head and climbed on to the fence to get on to her back. She was eager
to go. Out by the river where the snow got over the knee deep, she plunged and
danced, kicking up showers with her shaggy feet, and I saw Riley’s face finally
crack into a smile as he moved with her. By the time we reached the river, he
looked a lot looser in the shoulders and he was talking to the horse with the
lightness in his tone that was Riley as I knew him. Jake was right; he’d needed
this.<br />
<br />
<br />
The river was iced over in stretches from the bank, in white and grey plates
that stopped abruptly around the running water. I sounded a little of the ice
cautiously from the bank. Quite deep in places, but the current beneath was
running faster than usual, I could hear the rush of it.<br />
<br />
<br />
“What was Columbia like?” Riley asked as the horse paused to shake snow off her
face. He leaned down over her neck to help, brushing off her nose and big
eyelashes with his gloved palm. It was the first time he’d wanted to chat, and
he’s usually a conversational soul; I took it as a good sign.<br />
<br />
<br />
“It’s odd going straight from the desert to snow.” I dug my hands into my
pockets, looking up into the woods. The aspens were sprinkled and frosted. “The
finds were pretty good. We handed it all over to the museum yesterday.
Foundations mostly but some statuary.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“What was it? Paul said something about pyramids.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Yes, it was a pyramid of some kind. Once. More of it left underground than
above.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Riley grinned, eyebrows raising. “Mummies? Gold?”<br />
<br />
<br />
He and Dale both loved stories and histories; it was something all three of us
shared in. “Dust, rock.” I said dryly, which made Jake laugh. “Lots of that.
Different kind of pyramid. But we found chambers with some goods in them,
battered and robbed a few times a thousand or so years back. Mostly pots,
statues and carvings, some bits that Beau thinks will turn out to be flowers
and grasses when they’re properly analysed.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“And you saw all that first?” Riley’s eyes were alight with interest. I nodded
at Jake, who was strolling through the snow alongside us.<br />
<br />
<br />
“He’s got the camera phone, get him to show you the pictures. We found our way
in late one night and had to wait until first light to go back and look
properly, Beau paced most of the night because we wouldn’t let her down there
until we had enough light to be sure of the ventilation and that the structure
was sound.”<br />
<br />
<br />
That was mostly what we offered the team; guiding, route finding, camp
maintenance, and basic safety. We got the brains of the outfit to the important
places and then kept them together while they did their job. <br />
<br />
<br />
“Wait until Dale hears that,” Riley said with enjoyment. “He’ll be reading
everything he can find on it for weeks trying to know more. You know he was
leading a meeting in a shipyard when the steel mill there blew up? He and Flynn
had to herd a bunch of suits out from a fire down in the lower floors of the
factory. That was how he got the whack on the head; shrapnel from exploding
bits of pipe.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“And he’s been researching shipyards?” Jake inquired. Riley gently reined the
horse in before she could experiment with one of her huge feet on the edge of
the river ice.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Well he did on the way out there, he was more interested in the ship than the
meeting, but he got grabbed by a what in the shipyard and in the town he and
Flynn were at yesterday who’s been way more interesting. It’s one you know
too.” He looked at me expectantly. <br />
<br />
<br />
There was only one I really knew the name of; the one I’d known visit him down
by the lake where the cairn stood.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Sarah?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“That’s it. Dale put it together and realised; she came from Wisconsin with her
family, they were pioneers. They came up the Oregon trail to our land, and it’s
pretty much the route Dale and Flynn are driving.”<br />
<br />
<br />
And that part was helping him to think about, I could see it, and internally I
congratulated Dale. Whatever he had told Riley about this was successfully
taking his mind off worrying. I hoped it was taking Dale and Flynn’s mind off
it too. Riley turned the shire horse, giving me a look that was pure mischief.<br />
<br />
<br />
“You know what else she’s been doing while she’s got Dale out on this route
with nothing better to do? She’s rounding up other what kids.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“What?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Yes.”<br />
<br />
<br />
I shook my head at him. “Other kids?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“It seems to be kids she knew,” Riley said reflectively. “Dale’s been trying to
figure it out. She found one in the first town they stopped at, which was a
supply town she remembered kitting up at when her family travelled. A boy about
her age. And last night they went for a walk at some Christmas fair at a fort
museum and she found another one she knew, another boy a little older. And then
Dale saw another what-kid lurking around watching the fair, and Sarah turned up
and rounded that one up too. Dale said the what-kid seemed quite happy about
it.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Well that sounded to me like pure Dale. If he was whatting then I had some hope
that he wasn’t feeling too rough. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
<br />
It ended up being a long, and rather good late afternoon. Jake and I hauled
bales, waded through snow, smashed ice forming in water troughs, dug out
feeding stations and shouldered our way through the cattle and sheep who were
clustered in tight bunches for warmth. Hard, heavy, hands on physical work. My
kind of thing. I’d never done much farm related stuff before Jake first brought
me here, but he’d grown up doing all this and I related to it. There was
satisfaction in it. Animals didn’t chatter, ask questions or care about the
season. And the other guys out here were doing the same work, doing it well and
efficiently, and in a relaxed and good natured way with each other, although
the need for collars turned up, hats down low and scarfs up high prevented much
chat. It was going to be repetitive work through the night; the same jobs
needing doing each time. The snow was threatening to start any minute now;
occasional flakes were drifting and the sky was low and heavy, with the air
becoming very still. I worked on remembering the routine with a knowledge of
where everything was before it got dark, while Riley and several of the older
men sorted out the horses in the stables, apparently where the older and more
vulnerable horses went to stay warm in the bad weather, and checked on ears and
other bits for frostbite of the horses in the sheltered enclosure. The horses
too were pressed close together in the shelters, sharing body warmth.<br />
<br />
<br />
There was a crowd for the kitchen bathroom shower when it got dark enough to
come inside. Several of the men, I recognised Gerry and Bear amongst them, were
winding huge swathes of fairy lights all along the porch rail and the porch
roof. Bear caught my eye and winked at me as I passed him. It was a friendly
gesture. A lot of them were just smiling, nodding and carrying on with what
they were doing as if I was just a normal, everyday part of the landscape, I
could see the effort not to scare the antisocial nut. In a nice way, but I
could still feel it. Snow was getting kicked off boots in the doorway, brushed
off trousers, shoulders, hats, newspaper and towels were on the floor, several
people were stripping in the kitchen rather than take wet clothes into the
house, and milling around the table where Paul was organising tea and platefuls
of cake. A guy I didn’t recognise was facing one of the kitchen corners. No one
was taking a blind bit of notice. It was plain it was just normality in this
house, as I knew academically that it was for all of us. It was still a bit…
peculiar, watching a guy I didn’t even know doing the obvious brat in trouble
thing, in plain sight. And it raised a little of the old panic that if Jake
even considered doing that to me here, in front of anyone else…. Except I knew
it was ridiculous. Jake never would. I got a grip, managed not to stare, got my
stomach under control and carried on. Jake and I being Everest hardened, we
stripped off boots, jackets, hats and lined pants in the kitchen, which we hung
to dry in the laundry room, and went upstairs for dry jeans, leaving the
showers to the less practiced at extreme weather. The house was as busy
upstairs as it was down. I followed Jake in pulling dry jeans out and putting
them on; neither of us were cold, we’d been too active outside. And then I
followed him downstairs again, and …. hovered slightly.<br />
<br />
<br />
I could see through the open study door that a collection of some of the older
guys were in there, Wade among them, and the conversation was often punctuated
with laughter. Jake disappeared into the kitchen. I surveyed the family room,
trying not to do it too obviously while appearing to examine the bookcase by
the stairs, not really sure what I expected or what I should be doing. Someone
had put the elderly but very expensive music system on, and it was playing a
record of a man with a rich baritone: I recognised it. Stan Rogers. A singer
David had loved, and one that Jake and Paul and the others often put on when I
was here. There were people gathered on the couches, talking. But a man I
didn’t recognise, somewhere in his mid fifties, was sprawled in the armchair by
the bookcase near the study, one leg slung over the arm, socked foot conducting
something he was humming to himself, and he was buried in a book. Someone else
was laying on his stomach on the hearth rug, organising cards in a game of
solitaire in front of the fire. Bear’s partner: the small, red headed guy with
glasses, was at one end of the sofa, one hand around a cup of tea and focused
on the book on his lap. Almost all of them in sight were in old and shabby
sweaters that were warm more than smart and stood up to heavy farming, and
well-worn jeans. It was a comfortable and reassuring sight. I mean I knew; I
knew it here, I’d first figured out the painful steps of doing it here, I
intentionally practiced it with the Abeausante team too because I took it
seriously; there is a job to do in belonging. A responsibility. One
that takes work and effort. They believed in it here, and that made hiding
behind a book unacceptable. I knew it. It was still nice that I was around men
who would just pick up a book and lose themselves in it among all this.
<br />
<br />
<br />
I took a slow, deep breath and went to the group on the couches around the
coffee table, taking a seat with them on the hearth, near the guy with the
cards. Several of them glanced up and smiled; Ash, Gerry’s partner, in
particular, and he shifted slightly on the couch so that we sat in a circle
rather than I was on the end of one.<br />
<br />
<br />
“How are things looking outside?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“I think Riley’s happy it’ll hold for a few hours,” I said rather cautiously,
since I was new at the winter work. “It’s the first time I’ve seen the ranch in
snow, it’s rather beautiful.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“You’re seeing it at its best,” Ash agreed. “Pretty snow rather than wet snow
or neck deep snow or storms. Gerry’s told me some horror stories about winter
snowstorms he saw out here. They sounded awful. Although I do understand I’m
telling that to someone who’s done extreme end storms up mountains in tents,
and could probably get quite interested in a storm here and the logistics
involved.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Yeah, he wasn’t wrong, and I found myself giving him a rather sheepish smile
since my first thought had been that yes, it sounded quite fun to me. Jake sat
on the hearthrug at my feet, handing up a mug of strong tea and balancing a plate
of cake on his knee in my reach. Proper British Christmas cake, with
royal icing in hard peaks above marzipan. Despite all my good intentions it
really helped to have Jake, large, solid and firmly leaning against me. And
seeing British Christmas cake here was a real surprise.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Paul makes it,” Gerry told me, taking a seat on the arm of the couch by Ash
with a plate of his own. “He always made it for David, so it’s now established
habit for all of us. Like Christmas pudding. And mince pies. We do a very
Brit-friendly Christmas.”<br />
<br />
<br />
I broke off a corner of the dark fruit cake and tasted it. Rich and strong in
brandy, it was fantastic. I hadn’t had Christmas cake in years. When I was a
kid, with guests constantly in the house and tea parties all through December,
and the church Advent Sunday celebrations and the after-service chapter house
tea, Christmas cake and mince pies used to flood everywhere: bought ones, home
made ones, donated ones since half the elderly ladies living in the grace and
favour houses in the close used to make their own Christmas cakes and give them
as gifts. I was surprised to find I’d missed it.<br />
<br />
<br />
“If you like the snow,” Bear said in his deep voice, coming to sit on the floor
with a mug of tea, “Head on up through the woods and along the river bank. It
drifts high up there. That’s beautiful in this weather.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“He likes wading waist deep in snow as much as you two do,” Gerry informed me
with his mouth full, “He and Theo do all kinds of insane hiking routes through
the woods near Portland, they go out camping for days at a time.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“An’ you come too. Sometimes.” Bear said uncritically. Gerry shook his head.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Oh only when Ash makes me darling, I much prefer the hotel experience and the
hot baths available, and no ticks.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“I’ve been trying to make the time to hike more this fall,” the guy on the
floor with the cards put in. He had very short, sleek dark hair close to his
scalp that made him look exotic, like some lost Egyptian prince, skin tight
black leather trousers, and under the v neck of the bright pink cashmere
sweater he was wearing I could see a scarlet sequinned t shirt. “Luthe and I
both need it, we do far too much sitting at desks and the mental health part is
needed, especially this time of year. We went up Breakneck Ridge a few weeks
ago before the snow started- ah. Is that the wanderers?”<br />
<br />
<br />
Riley had grabbed for the phone as soon as it rang; I watched him emerge into
the family room, pressing conference so that Dale’s voice came out of the
speaker.<br />
<br />
<br />
“- the woods and the museum this afternoon. It’s snowing lightly, not much.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“How’s the kid situation?” Riley demanded.<br />
<br />
<br />
“She’s found another one.” Dale said somewhat dryly. No one in the room looked
at all surprised by this, and Riley laughed, sitting on the hearth next to me.<br />
<br />
<br />
“You’ve got five of them running around? Who’s the fifth?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“This one’s a girl. Hannah. She found a knife in the woods and scratched her
name into a rock down by the river. We found it.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“You found where she put her name?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“That was the bit she wanted us to see.” Dale said lightly. “I think it was
fairly shocking for a little girl to have a pocket knife at the time, she’s a
little younger than Sarah. Maybe six?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“I only heard half of this yesterday,” Ash said from the couch, “What are the
names of this crew, Dale?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Clay is the boy she found in Council Bluffs,”<br />
<br />
<br />
“That’s the one who remembered letting the stock out of the corral while the
adults were listening to a meeting going on?” Gerry added. <br />
<br />
<br />
“That’s him. She met him while they were supplying there. The second one was
Jesse, she found him yesterday at Fort Kearney. He was on her wagon train, a
little older than her, very lively – she remembered something today about them
camping here at Ash Hollow, it’s a woodland around a river, rich green land and
they rested here for a few days. Her mother made cookies, she hadn’t had time
to do it on the trail, but she had time here to make cookies, and Jesse and the
other boys stole them as fast as she could make them.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“A boy of taste, clearly,” Gerry said, waving the cake he was munching on. “I
do much the same to Ash.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“I’d do the same to Bear,” the red headed guy said ruefully, “Except by the
time I try there’s usually just crumbs left and a box is disappearing down the
street to a neighbour.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“I make cookies for you plenty,” Bear told him. The red headed guy grinned, but
stooped to catch the swift kiss Bear gave him.<br />
<br />
<br />
“The third one was Clay, also last night,” Dale went on, “She didn’t know him,
but he was alone and watching a farrier display and she sort of adopted him.
Today’s is Hannah.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“What was she doing in Ash Hollow?” Riley asked. “What’s there now? What’s this
museum?”<br />
<br />
<br />
With the fire warm against my side – this hearth pumped out a lot of heat – I
sat, with Jake against my feet, listening to Dale miles away describing a
woodland and river and Neolithic remains, the stories of animals and wagons
lowered by rope and hand down hills, and the names of these children and the
fragments of their stories. It was fascinating listening; it was never possible
to hear Dale talking about these little odds and ends of people he picked up on
and the histories of them, without becoming sucked in. And there was a group of
them around the fire here, listening with close attention. Several of the men
in the study had come out to join us and listen, and were clustered on the arms
of chairs and squashed into spaces on the couches, Wade among them.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Where are you staying tonight?” someone asked with obvious enjoyment. Gerry
grinned and leaned across to Jake and me to explain.<br />
<br />
<br />
“His PA has been finding insane places to stay. I love his PA;
I’m sure she’s doing it on purpose. Last night they were in some
novelty guesthouse where they had a bed inside a beer barrel, Flynn was
apoplectic.”<br />
<br />
<br />
I was fairly sure Dale was enjoying that.<br />
<br />
<br />
“We’re in a clear bubble tent in a garden.” Dale said candidly. Gerry burst out
laughing, so did several other people. Paul, who was sitting with Wade, shook
his head.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Want to say hi?” Riley said to me, and held out the phone. “He doesn’t know
you’re here; we’ve been planning to surprise him.”<br />
<br />
<br />
I could see, like Flynn, Riley thought my being here would be something Dale
might enjoy. I couldn't stop the warmth that flashed over my body. I took
the phone from him. “So what did you do to yourself this time?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Tom?” Dale demanded. I snorted at the tone in his voice, there was genuine
shock and pleasure there. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Yes, it’s
me. Yes, I’m doing it</i>. <br />
<br />
<br />
“We arrived this afternoon.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“They brought me.” Wade said with deep satisfaction from the couch. “I had a
personal escort. Two very dishy and very tall bodyguards. Half the heads in the
place turned to look.”<br />
<br />
<br />
From the floor, Jake blew him a kiss. Wade winked at me.<br />
<br />
<br />
“And no one wittered about me boozing on the plane either.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“He didn’t booze, he had a small whisky and that was his choice, we’d have got
him a bottle and a straw if he’d wanted one.” I said to Dale. <br />
<br />
<br />
Wade grabbed up a cushion and tossed it in my direction, grinning at
me. “Stop messing with my reputation,”<br />
<br />
<br />
Jake caught the cushion, and Luath put a hand over Wade’s.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Enough, save it for James.” <br />
<br />
<br />
“Are you all right?” I said, taking no notice of them. “How bad’s the vision?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“It’s gradually clearing.” Dale said honestly. “Things are more distinct now
than they were this morning. It’s been – interesting? – but day by day it’s
getting better. I’m glad you and Jake are home.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“We were invited. It’s good to be here.”<br />
<br />
<br />
That was the message I wanted Flynn to hear too, since I had no doubt that
Flynn was right there with Dale and listening. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I appreciate that invitation. I am pleased to be here and I am trying</i>.<br />
<br />
<br />
“I’m not letting anyone crowd him.” Riley said cheerfully enough to sound off
hand, but that helped too. “I’ve got it covered.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Where did you arrive from?” Dale asked.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Columbia. We picked up Wade on our way. Is this inflatable bubble thing warm
enough?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Yes, despite the snow. It’s amazingly warm considering how thin it is.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“If it’s true at all, your PA is doing this to Flynn on purpose, and I want to
know who bribed her to do it, and a set of pictures!” someone called, loud
enough to reach the phone. “But I think you’re in a holiday inn and somewhere
totally normal, and you’re just winding us up.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Against my knee I could feel Jake shaking with laughter, and poked him.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Trust me, it’s really a bubble.” Flynn’s voice said dryly. Paul shook his
head.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Poor Flynn. What are they eating in this tent?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Paul wants to know,” I repeated, “What they’re feeding you tonight?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“They did not feed us. They’re feeding the animals bunny chow, it says so on
the box they gave us.” Flynn sounded acid. <br />
<br />
<br />
“Brace yourselves for this,” Dale advised, and handed the phone to Flynn to let
him explain.<br />
<br />
<br />
Flynn didn’t let them stay talking too long; it was clear from Dale’s voice
that he was calm and finding amusement in this peculiar set up, but I could
hear too that he tired fast as if the voices and chatter overwhelmed him. Paul
and Riley grabbed a moment with the phone alone in the kitchen to wish them
goodnight.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Although Jas should arrive in an hour or two, and make things a bit easier.”
Gerry said when they were out of earshot. “How they intend to manage three in a
bed in a bubble tent I have no idea, but Dale is nothing if not creative.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Stop camping it up like that, you’re terrifying Tom.” The man on the floor
said firmly. Gerry shook his head at me.<br />
<br />
<br />
“I am not, I know him. He summitted Everest, that is one steely eyed mountain
man. Nothing scares him.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Jake tipped his head back to smile at me.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Except possibly a family Christmas.” I said dryly. Gerry laughed, and so did
Bear. The man on the floor gave me a rather sympathetic look.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Were family Christmases that bad where you came from? I’m Darcy by the way,
and that’s Miguel, and that’s ‘Lito. There won’t be a quiz, you don’t have to
remember all this; no one will flounce if you get their names wrong, and we
will still like you. We are quite a nice bunch really when you get to know us.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“I see that,” I said with the kind of edge that tends to happen just when I’m
feeling sincere, like my voice box does a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">quick, add sarcasm</i> intervention. Flynn would call it
defensive. Flynn would be right. He often is. Damnit. It had been him who
taught me the belief of Philip and David who trained everyone here: being
willing to share yourself and make those connections was a responsibility of
belonging. Being part of a good team. Jake got up, picking up our mugs.<br />
<br />
<br />
“I need more tea.”<br />
<br />
<br />
He headed towards the kitchen, leaving me with them. It wasn’t abandoning me; I
understood and appreciated it because he’d done it freely, ever since I first
started to really want to be here. It went with what Gerry had said to me
once: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">darling, there is no such
thing as a brat in-law</i>.<br />
<br />
<br />
I belonged here, as he did; and that was what he wanted for me. Not to be here
as an extension of him, facilitated by him.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Christmas was pretty formal where I grew up,” I told Darcy. “I was the kid of
a Bishop, we lived with the cathedral community, Christmas started big in early
November and ran through to January. Busiest time of year. So many events my
mother used to keep a huge calendar in the kitchen with it all written out so
she could keep track of it.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Like what?” Riley had come back to join us. I shrugged, reflecting on the
endless events day in and day out.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Rehearsals, kids’ nativity, the choir – the cathedral had its own choir, the
kids went to a small boarding school in the town and they stayed after all the
other kids went home for the holidays as they had all the choir events and services
to do. Huge deal, the Christmas Eve evening and midnight mass and the Christmas
morning services were huge.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Poor little things!” Gerry said, sounding startled. “How old were they?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Unbroken voices, nine to thirteen usually. Prep school age. They did want to
be there, the places in the choir were fought for and they loved doing the
Christmas services, but it was hard for them to be away from home on Christmas
Eve. I remember my father dealing with some tears in a rehearsal once.”<br />
<br />
<br />
In the way he did with kids; quiet and kind, I remembered watching him crouch
in front of the kid with a handkerchief, half behind a pillar so the kid got
some privacy from the other boys.<br />
<br />
<br />
“The school staff did everything they could to make the time between rehearsals
fun for them once the other kids went home, we used to help out with that – my
mother organised a party every year for them, we’d have a tree and a gift from
the cathedral to each kid, the staff took them skating and to the theatre and
so on. After the Christmas morning service they’d go back to the school and
their parents would meet them there for a Christmas dinner with the staff, they
did try to make it special for them, and then after dinner they went home for
the holidays. Apart from all that my parents had a lot of entertaining to do,
various groups from the cathedral who had to have their own party or dinner or
evening do or afternoon tea which they had to attend, invitations to all kinds
of town and national events.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“You must have hated it.” Gerry said with feeling. In the kitchen doorway, Jake
was lounging, drinking tea and listening. I shrugged at him. I don’t think this
was something I’d told him before; the topic of Christmas wasn’t one that came
up much. We usually did it on the move and somewhere weird, and in our own
time. Or rather I did my own thing and he let me.<br />
<br />
<br />
“The entertaining and the formal stuff – yes. That was endless until I got old
enough to start opting out. The cathedral services and the decorations and
traditions were rather nice though.” <br />
<br />
<br />
“We’ll be doing nothing formal here at all.” Miguel promised me. “Not a thing.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“What were the names of the kids again?” Bear said abruptly. Gerry and Darcy
both looked at him first; I could read their expressions.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Sarah,” Riley said, and Darcy got up, going into the study. “She’s the little
girl from the graves in the woods, she’s the one who’s ours.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“It’s so nice to know her name,” ‘Lito said. “I’ve passed that spot for years
and wondered who it was, those graves were on our land and we seemed
responsible.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Darcy came back with a large sheet of paper and a pencil, spread it out on the
coffee table and turned it for Bear to see.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Sarah.” He wrote as he spoke. “Clay is the one Sarah found in Council Bluffs,
Jesse is the one in the fort that she knew, and Reid is the one who seemed by
himself,”<br />
<br />
<br />
“He’s the one with the birthmark.” Bear added. “Dale said yesterday.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Probably why the poor kid is so shy,” Darcy agreed, writing the names. He was
doing it clearly, in large print, which made me wonder for a moment if Bear had
some kind of visual impairment. “And today there’s Hannah. The little one who
wrote her name on the rock.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Is this the same path the wagons travelled on?” Miguel asked. “I know one of
the routes crossed our land eventually.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Sarah started out in Wisconsin.” Riley told him. “On the shores of the lake,
Dale said. She was showing him her lake and boats in the shipyard.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“So that would be up and over here.” Darcy said absently, sketching. I watched
with interest as suddenly a sailing boat and a shoreline and an ornate label
appeared at the side of the paper. This man was an artist, the figures were
simple but beautiful. “Then they came down…to where? Where was the jumping on
point for the trail?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“It’s Council Bluffs. South west from the coast, down into Iowa. If you went
due south you’d hit Chicago, but it’s south as far as Chicago and diagonally
west at the same time. They stayed at Fort Dodge last night, about halfway down
the diagonal. Council Bluffs is the end of the diagonal. And then the trail
starts going more or less straight west,” Riley said. “I was looking at maps
with Jas the night he and Flynn planned the trail.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Darcy was drawing as Riley spoke. “And Council Bluffs is where the wagons took
on supplies, and there was the camp through until the weather broke enough for
spring to start out.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Dale said there was a line of stores and the other side of the road was an
open pasture full of tents.” Gerry agreed. “And the corral with all the stock
in, people were buying mules and oxen to pull the wagons. I suppose the stores
there must have been a lot like the one in Three Traders started out as. Tents
that turned into supplying stores to the wagons.”<br />
<br />
<br />
That broke into a discussion on what was likely to have been supplied, how well
it travelled, and some demands to me and Jake as to what we’d taken to Everest
with us for modern comparison. I listened, somewhat amazed in spite of myself.
I could see Bear was deeply concerned with the idea of these children, a fool
could have seen it; the man had it written all over his face. But it wasn’t
just him; it was all of them. They really cared about this stuff. They knew the
history of the ranch, the stories of it, the land it stood on. They talked
about Dale and his kids as though they really mattered.<br />
<br />
<br />
While they talked, Darcy sketched. I watched his hand move, creating wagons in
pastures, delicate and pencil drawn with wooden railed store fronts behind
them. At times, when he was absorbed and the conversation was going on around
him, I saw something about him slip. He was bright, chatty and lively whenever
anyone spoke to him; he was rather like Gerry in the same glitzy kind of way,
the kind of bloke I’d normally have run from. But when he was lost in thought I
saw his shoulders tighten and something about his face go blank for a moment
here and there.</p>
<h1>Part 3</h1>
<p class="MsoNormal">Jake and I did several runs out to do the stock work in the
dark through the evening, although there were no shortage of men who appeared
to have sorted out turns and coated up and got the lanterns from the barn with
the experience of having done this for years. No one looked twice at Jake and I
going every time; they clearly knew about hyperactive bastards from years of
knowing Jake. The biting cold outside, the snow, the hard and heavy work of it
was good; it’s the kind of work out Jake and I would seek out for fun if we
were taking a few rest days anywhere. Riley came too, mostly because he wanted
to be doing anything but sitting around thinking. I could see it. He was
drifting in the family room; not obviously but it was in the way Flynn usually
saw fast and interrupted. Once I started watching I saw other things too;
things you only notice if you have an eye in. Because while Gerry kept giving
him absent hugs in passing, and Darcy kept pulling him into conversation, and
Wade tried drawing him into a card game, it was the other things from Top type
people that were making more impact. Luath put a casual arm around his waist
and kept him sitting on the arm of his chair for a while, engaging him in the
puzzle he’d got out and which he and Bear and several others were working on.
Ash several times drew him into chat about the horses which kept him going for
a while; another guy I didn’t recognise announced as Riley paced past him that
he had no idea where to find a book he needed and Riley spent a while helping
him with that. Several times Paul casually joined him, sitting wherever Riley
was and sliding his arms around Riley’s waist to join in with whatever was
going on. But it did eventually splinter too far down; I could see it was going
to, and I knew Jake could too; I’d seen him watching for a while. <br />
<br />
<br />
He was the one that saw Riley pick up a vase which looked antique to me, and
start casually rolling it and tossing it in his hand, which was a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">for pete’s sake I am going to cause a scene
if I want to</i> signal if ever I saw one, and he got up to hold out a
hand for it. Saying nothing, with a friendly smile. Riley sighed and handed it
over.<br />
<br />
<br />
“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nobody knows…. the trouble I seen….”</i>
someone by the puzzle started to sing. It was the guy who’d been standing in
the corner earlier, and he winked at Riley when Riley glanced up and glared at
him. Enough people started to laugh that I could see this was an old and private
joke. It didn’t look like one Riley was in the mood for tonight. I think he
would have probably stalked away except for Paul who called him from the
kitchen doorway, wearing one jacket and holding another.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Riley. Here, right now.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Going walkies now are we?” Riley demanded bitterly.<br />
<br />
<br />
“In that mood, you bet we are.” Paul said cheerfully. “Let’s go hon. Before
this ends up involving a hairbrush.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Riley scuffed across to him, taking the jacket and scowling. “You don’t have to
get mean, it’s Christmas.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“I’ll put tinsel on it.” Paul pushed him and the jacket into the kitchen and a
moment later the back door clicked as they went out.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Poor kid, he’s going to go insane before they get back here.” Gerry said with
sympathy, and the room kind of relaxed, it was as if he took the lid off the
concern we all had and were all doing our best not to show.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Paul’s not much better,” Darcy agreed. “I’ve been trying to get him to come
and read or walk or do anything but cook all afternoon, and it’s done nothing.
We’re going to need a refrigeration truck to store it all if someone doesn’t
stop him soon.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Any chance of getting them out to the hot springs in the morning?” <br />
Luath suggested. Jake shook his head.<br />
<br />
<br />
“You won’t get either of them away from the phone. I don’t blame them; I’d be
in the same state myself.”<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The snow started around eight, and dropped thickly and silently without a
pause. Just before ten pm, Luath took the tractor down into the pasture where
its headlights lit the snow for us to see what we were doing, as well as
shifting hay to where we needed it to refill feeding stations. Riley, who
looked in a fractionally better mood but not by much, came with us and it took
the group of eight of us about twenty minute to do the chores out there. The
snowfall began to slow while we were out there, until it stopped completely.
The sky was lighter and brighter now. As the clouds lifted, stars began to
appear. When the chores were done, Gerry and Ash took a lift with Luath on the
tractor back towards the yard. Two guys more I wasn’t sure of the names of but
probably partners given that they were holding hands, waded through the snow
after them, whistling to the dogs to follow. <br />
<br />
<br />
Luath nodded at Jake as he fired the engine up. “I’ll guess you two are going
wandering?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Yep.” Jake dug his hands into his pockets. “Tell Paul that Ri’s with us.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Am I?” Riley said acidly. Jake slung an arm over his shoulders, turning him
towards the woods.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Yeah, you are. Paul said there was some tree we have to do something to, or
Dale’s going to have problems. I wasn’t sure what, but he seemed convinced.”<br />
<br />
<br />
I didn’t understand why, but for some reason that seemed to break through Ri’s
funk. I saw him smile, albeit somewhat unwillingly, but he shook his head.
“That only works if we’ve got music, bread and alcohol.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Got you covered.” Jake pulled a small black thing from his pocket, a wrapped
packet and a small bottle of brandy. “Paul says this is the music, just press
play, and you’d know what else to do with the brandy and bread. And he said not
to worry about rushing back, he’s got plenty of help.” <br />
<br />
<br />
“You do realise it’s after ten pm, and we’re all going to turn into pumpkins?”
Riley sounded considerably more cheerful about it, and Jake strolled through
the snow, keeping an arm slung around him and pacing me.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Well if your fairy godmother turns up, we’ll just throw snowballs until she
goes away.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“I never got that story,” I said darkly, crossing the pasture with them. “Shoe
size is no basis for a relationship.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Well it was 7BC, they hadn’t done much in terms of relational counselling at
that point.” Jake said apologetically. “Although the Greeks probably would have
been quite up for it. That version was a Greek slave girl who marries the
Egyptian King.” He added for Riley’s benefit. “The story of Rhodopis. More
eagles, less stepmothers. What are we wassailing?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“You know about this?” Riley sounded quite pleased about it. Jake grinned at
me.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Of course I do. I’m well trained.”<br />
<br />
<br />
It was a good, hard, satisfying walk across the semi frozen river in the
moonlight that had broken through the last of the clouds, and into the white
frozen woods. And in there, it was like walking through Narnia.
Breathstealingly lovely. I admit, it was hard to take my eyes off it. The snow
crunched loudly underfoot, icicles hung from some of the trees, everything
white and reflecting in the crisp night with a high, clear, freezing cold sky
above us. We hiked up river and through the woods to the clear pastures on the
other side which was mostly where they ran sheep. Not far from the woods, Riley
led us to a tree, patting the trunk.<br />
<br />
<br />
“This one’ll do. It’s one of the ones that got the sheep drunk a few years ago,
it’s a good fruiter.”<br />
<br />
<br />
I’d never actually done this. I’d read about it of course. I knew about it. In
my childhood there had been a lot of very polite carols about wassailing, sung
by people in hats and gloves and often wearing a lot of tweed, or else under
thirteen and in choir robes. But I knew the origins were much less detached.
This was a tradition that came from farming. From earth and pagan tradition in
villages, smallholdings, animals in steaming byres, and cheerful people with
alcohol raising good energy to defend against the dark and the threats of
winter. This felt a lot realer.<br />
<br />
<br />
“This is for a what that Dale knows,” Riley said, unfastening the bread packet.
“He stood and looked at us in the yard for a couple of days until Dale figured
out what he wanted. He thinks the man was British, from the west country in England.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Apples.” I said, as it dawned on me. “Yes. There the wassailing was the fruit
trees as their crop. In other places it was the animals.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Our crop is the stock, but we tried a fruit tree and it seems to keep the guy
happy.” Riley held out the bread to Jake. “Pour a bit of brandy on it? It’s
supposed to be cider, but he doesn’t seem to mind.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Jake splashed brandy on to the bread. Riley took the black thing, which I
thought was probably an ipod of some kind, the technology escapes me frankly,
and pushed a button. I didn’t know the song or the singers, but it was strongly
English, words and style.<br />
<br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Wassail and wassail all over the town<br />
The cup it is white and the ale it is brown</i><br />
<br />
<br />
It rang in the pasture. I listened, hands deep in my pockets to keep them warm.
Already alerted to and loving the wildness of this beautiful snowy woodland
tonight, there was something even more deeply magical about standing in the
dark, at the foot of this tree, casting the ancient rites every farming land
once did to keep them and theirs safe. Even the words, while they varied in
each ancient form, didn’t vary that much; we were hearing the core of what had
been spoken for hundreds of years, back before anyone thought to record
it. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Be safe and be well through the
coming year. Let this land be fruitful; let our people not go hungry</i>. I
had strong enough roots now to this house and this place to feel that acutely.<br />
<br />
<br />
Riley splashed brandy on the tree roots when the song finished, and handed the
bread to Jake. “Put that up in the fork of the tree there?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Aren’t we supposed to circle the tree?” I asked, with vague memory of what I’d
read. Riley gave me a good natured shrug and led the way. <br />
<br />
<br />
We circled it clockwise, and then passed the brandy bottle from hand <br />
to hand, taking it in turns to take a swallow. Another ancient ritual to seal a
ceremony or a group belief. In the snowy darkness it was warming, the blaze lit
me from mouth to stomach.<br />
<br />
<br />
“That’s it,” Riley said, putting the top back on the bottle and handing it to
Jake, “We’re done, that should keep the guy happy for another year.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“He’ll believe he’s protecting you – this what.” I said, and winced at the
incoherence, this bit of family lingo was something I’d picked up a long time
ago. “blessing your land. It’s a good intent.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“That’s a nice thought.” Riley looked at us, nodding at the woods. <br />
“While we’re out here, do you want to visit him?”<br />
<br />
<br />
I knew which ‘him’ he meant.<br />
<br />
<br />
We walked down to the crossing place, and just past it was Sarah’s hollow. It
was filled with snow, too deep to see anything, the wreckage of the wagon was
wholly buried. But Jake led the way through the hollow and around the thick
bushes and tree branches at the bottom, and there was that odd, beautiful
little clearing I’d fallen in love with a few years ago, in the long, hot
summer Jake and I spent here recovering from the injuries we’d gained on
Everest.<br />
<br />
<br />
Surrounded by trees, the clearing was open to the sky and the stars above. The
columns always made me think of a cathedral, a natural one, weathered and white
and shades of charcoal in the darkness. Our breath was steaming in front of us.
And there against the trees at the side of the clearing, snow dusted and
somehow belonging in this natural place as if grown here, there he was. The
statue of St Michael. <br />
<br />
<br />
He stood more than nine foot high on his pedestal, I still wasn’t wholly sure
who or how they had managed to get him here. But he belonged here, stone and in
the woods, and St Michael to the core. The artist had got this; no curly haired
surfer type or Adonis type stood here, but a man, with a strong face and a
direct gaze, sword in hand, the cross marked on the chest of his tabard.<br />
<br />
<br />
The statue had just appeared one day. Quietly and perfectly as if he’d always
been here, the pedestal embedded in the ground, a permanent part of the woods.
They’d known how I felt about both St Michael and this spot. This place Dale’s
little Sarah had once shown us, where I loved to come and be, where the columns
rose around green grass and stillness and light passed through them in dappled
shafts of light. Where the spring dripped forever into the hollow in the rock
like the stoop in an abbey, slowly wearing the bowl deeper over the millennium.
This was a point on the ranch that they’d made mine. Without a word, without
asking anything, this was a spot they had labelled as belonging to me, and I
doubted many of the family even knew of it hidden deep in the woods, any more
than I knew the unique places of the ranch land that belonged to them. It went
soul deep to me. <br />
<br />
<br />
The stoop was snowed over, but when I brushed it aside, the spring was still
dripping over ice. I crouched to dip my fingers and cross myself with the
water, murmuring the words I’d known all my life and in the Latin form from the
cathedral at home. Another continent, a world away, but the home part of that
cathedral had somehow found its way here. <br />
<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
<br />
With the new and heavy snow and the plummeting temperatures, an agreement had
been made of who’d set their alarms for when, with a group heading outside
every couple of hours or so. Jake came out with me the first two times, until I
told him to for pete’s sake stop wandering about and get some sleep.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Isn’t this the third time you’ve been out tonight?” someone asked me about
four am when he and I were breaking the fast freezing water out of the water
troughs. “I thought Jake was on the go morning noon and night, but you’ve got
him licked, haven’t you?”<br />
<br />
<br />
This was obviously someone who knew Jake well; the affection was plain in their
voice behind the scarf covering their face. He was tall, American, and in the
coat and Stetson I couldn’t guess his age, but Top was written all over the
tone.<br />
<br />
<br />
“I don’t sleep much,” I told him, hoisting a large sheet of ice out. “And I
enjoy this kind of thing. I’d usually be out walking wherever we were at this
hour; this is a very nice view, interesting weather and a built-in gym, all in
one.”<br />
<br />
<br />
He laughed, hauling another sheet of ice out of the way with competence that
said he’d been doing this for years. “Yes, that sounds about right. Although
this snow must be pretty tame after Everest.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“It’s a lot more fun.” I admitted. “It’s not that cold; it’s fun snow and not
dangerous snow – at least relatively speaking,” I added hurriedly before he
thought I was belittling anything. He nodded, helping me smash out the
remaining ice.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Relatively, yes I get that. You’ve dealt with the real extremes; this is just
domestic normality for these parts. I’m Kit, by the way.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Hello.”<br />
<br />
<br />
His eyes smiled. “Will you get any sleep tonight?”<br />
<br />
<br />
Tops. They can’t help wanting to know that kind of thing, although in this
household people had always been tactful in letting it show around me unless
they were particular friends of mine. I’d never found it welcome from
strangers, but then no one in this house was a stranger. They were Jake and
Dale’s people, and this guy said it without criticism, and without any invasive
implication behind it that said <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">let
me do something about that</i>.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Some.” I told him honestly. “Usually nearer dawn than before it. Jake’s been
used to me coming and going all night for years.”<br />
<br />
<br />
The snow was really coming again down now. I grabbed a spade from the barn and
spent a few minutes digging out the doors, and then the steps and the porch to
drop the levels down a bit before in a few hours we couldn’t get the doors
open. Kit came and helped, he was efficient and fit and we’d got a path through
it all when he said goodnight and headed back to bed.<br />
<br />
<br />
The fire was still glowing behind the guard in the family room; the house was
cool but not uncomfortably, and Jake grunted and shifted over as I slid under
the covers beside him. “Your hands are freezing.” <br />
<br />
<br />
Nobly, he pulled me closer rather than push me away, although he flinched when
I pressed a snow red and chilled face into his chest. “Sheesh. I’m going to
have you fitted with a defroster.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Go back to sleep.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“We’ll call him Steve. He can follow you around with a towel and a hot water
bottle.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Starting to warm up, I curled up to him. In all honesty, in a house full of
people, sleep wasn’t a possibility at all. I was already starting to look
forward to the next expedition outside. And then despite it being the middle of
the night, his hands slipped somewhere one does not put them in polite society
and he rolled over in quite a purposeful way. I shook my head at him, which
splashed him a little with still melting snow.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Yeah, and I’ll have Terry, who can follow you around with bromide and a cold
shower.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“He can knock off Steve when we’re busy,” Jake said in my ear, “It’ll be fine.”<br />
<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
<br />
We spent the day mostly dealing with cattle, sheep, horses, a fence rail that
had given way under the weight of the ice on it, and doing it around older guys
sweeping out sheds and sorting out wonky hinges and a lot of other minor odd
jobbing that they did in groups and seemed to enjoy. It was quite a peaceful
experience. The rest of the time Jake and I spent in walking around the woods.
Bear was right; the drifts up by the river were head high in places.<br />
<br />
<br />
Jake told me that Paul tended to do meals as buffets with the house this full.
It was a strategy I appreciated. For a start it meant less pressure on him to
prepare and clean up full sit-down meals. It also made it easy for Jake and I
to snack in passing or for me to take a plate to a quiet bit of the family room
as the light started to go in the evening, and to work on joining in with
whatever was going on. The table and counters held a multitude of half emptied
plates as we came in that evening. Snow was falling again, but lightly and in a
leisurely manner that was fooling no one; the sky was heavy and we were going
to have another big fall tonight. Paul was alone in the kitchen reading a
letter as we came in, and he glanced up to smile at us. A pretty normal smile,
but his having managed to be alone in a house this busy where everyone was
trying to keep him occupied said a lot to me.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Hi. How far did you get?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Up to the railway line,” Jake told him. “It’s even deeper up there.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Riley ploughed out to the road again just now. He said the snow ploughs are
doing a good job with the roads, it’s all passable with care.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Flynn’s been driving these roads for years, and it won’t be as bad by the
city,” Jake reminded him. “Have you heard from them this evening?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Not yet.” Paul passed the letter and a Christmas card to him. “From Trent.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“That’s the one in Uganda?” I said. Jake nodded, shifting so I could read over
his shoulder.<br />
<br />
<br />
“He’s an aid worker. You’d like him.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Yes; from what I’d heard he had always sounded appealing. Paul got up and took
my jacket from me, waiting for Jake to shoulder out of his.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Tom, give me those and get yourself something to eat. From what Riley says,
you were out half the night and most of today helping out; even you have to be
tired.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Not really,” I said apologetically. He shook his head at me.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Nervous energy. Yes it is, sunshine; I’ve got one just like you. I know the
signs.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“He’s worse than I am.” I pointed out. Paul patted my shoulder turning me
towards the counters. <br />
<br />
<br />
“It’s neck and neck in my opinion. Do something for me hon? Take a few deep
breaths, get a plate and eat something. The red plates are the set your throat
on fire options, and the hot sauce is over there.”<br />
<br />
<br />
He did this. Ever since Jake had told him we had a weakness for spicy food, it
was an effort he made, a care he always took. And it was invariably fantastic.
I hooked an arm around his neck in passing and he paused to hug me back, rather
more competently than I was doing, and as if he felt I needed it.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Thank you for all the keeping Riley busy that you’re doing. Are you ok honey?
Coping with it all?”<br />
<br />
<br />
Typical of him. Worrying himself crazy about his own guys miles away, with Dale
with concussion and all of them travelling bad roads, and he was worried about
whether I felt sufficiently together.<br />
<br />
<br />
“I’m good,” I promised him, hoping that was some comfort to him. I didn’t
mention that it was together with the aid of highly athletic sex last night,
after which both Jake and I had managed another hour of sleep.<br />
<br />
<br />
Paul had managed to make spicy sausage rolls. There was chilli and lime and
sugar in there, the spice and sweet and sharp together was fantastic. I tried
one in passing as I took a plate around the selection, closed my eyes for a
moment as the flavours hit, and then stuffed one in Jake’s mouth as he came to
join me. “Try that.”<br />
<br />
<br />
He grinned at me, capturing and sucking on my finger with his eyes glinting in
a very inappropriate and unfamily friendly way until I swatted him.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Terry.” I muttered at him, which made him laugh. “Bromide.”<br />
<br />
<br />
In the family room, the jigsaw puzzle was growing on the coffee table; I
recognised it as one of Dale’s trickier ones which Luath and several others
were working on. I tended to gravitate more to Riley and Gerry, which was
cowardly but I knew them well enough to find a room full of company easier with
them there. Tonight they were gathered at the hearth stone and I would have
gone to sit with them anyway, but Riley waved me over as soon as he saw me. He,
Darcy, Bear and Gerry were sorting out little sets of something on the hearth
rug. The four of them had disappeared into Jackson this morning; other than to
appreciate that people seemed to be generally trying to cheer Riley up and keep
him too occupied to fret I hadn’t noticed more; but they’d obviously been
shopping.<br />
<br />
<br />
Tiny trains were mixed up with little drums and even a little xylophone- small
toys. Painted ones, kind of Victorian. They were tying string to them. Setting
them, I realised, as decorations to hang.<br />
<br />
<br />
“We’re planning to put them on a tree up near Sarah’s hollow,” Riley handed me
a ball of string and some scissors without ceremony. “It seems – right – if
she’s bringing those children here. I hope she does.”<br />
Darcy’s spread map was on the floor near us. He’d worked some more on it; more
places were appearing on the trail. Ash Hollow was growing with its steep slope
and woods. I cut string into lengths, watching them work. Wade and Niall and
several other men I didn’t know the names of joined the group on the floor to
help out with the attaching of string. Across the fire from me, Bear was
working on five stars. He must have cut them this afternoon, they were small
and neat and delicate, and he was sanding the edges into soft curves. These
kids were heavy on Bear’s mind, I could see it, and when I glanced from the
side of my eye I found the red headed guy with the glasses watching too. He
hadn’t missed it. But this was what happened on this land; Philip and David had
built the connections between these men, and it seemed to just spread out to
everyone they came into contact with. Their history included those five
children who had travelled the trail that ran through the ranch. They mattered
to everyone, and they seemed to matter a whole lot to Bear. Bear, whom
Dale had been able to help find his own history. I’d heard the story from Riley
this summer. I shifted to sit beside Bear, aware I sounded awkward as hell.<br />
<br />
<br />
“How do you sand things this smooth? I’ve always been useless at woodwork.”<br />
<br />
<br />
He obligingly turned his hands a little to let me watch more closely. Often not
a man given to chatter; like Jasper, he had a presence that kind of drew you to
him because of him being quiet and peaceful, although I’d heard about a wicked
sense of humour.<br />
<br />
<br />
It was a while before I realised he was humming something. Very deep and
rumbling in his rich bass, the soft sounds of a carol I was deeply touched and
surprised that he knew. Until I thought about it and thought of a childhood
spent with Catholic nuns.<br />
<br />
<br />
“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lullay my liking</i>,” I found myself
singing very softly with him, in time with his humming of the Holst setting of
it. It was ancient, a 15th century lullaby carol, one so perfectly right
for soothing a young child and it said so much of where his mind and heart was in
that moment as his huge hands gently worked that wood to be perfect that I
found myself singing the next lines without thinking twice, despite being with
another bloke, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">My dear son, my sweeting…
lullay my dear heart….. my own dear darling</i>.”<br />
<br />
<br />
I swear he looked up at me like the sun coming out. I couldn’t help smiling
back.<br />
<br />
<br />
“I love these,” Darcy commented, delicately attaching a little train to one of
my lengths of string. “I spent the past three weeks organising two separate
Christmas events; one was silver and white and looked like Star Trek in the
deep freeze; and the other was pink. I am very over modern Christmas
decorations.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“But you met that chap with the velvet waistcoat,” a man commented who was
helping Riley with a couple of little dolls. It was the man who’d been in the
corner the other day. Probably early sixties, it wasn’t easy to tell; he had
the kind of face that aged well and a much younger smile. He nodded when he saw
me looking.<br />
<br />
<br />
“I’m William. Hi Tom. Isn’t it unfair that we all know you and you’re still
working us out?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“I’m making lists.” I said not altogether dryly. He looked at me and grinned,
and suddenly the tiny doll in his hand disappeared. He spread his fingers to
show me, then reached over and apparently took it out of Gerry’s ear. Gerry
laughed, shaking his head at him.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Tom’s about the only one of us who hasn’t seen you do that. How did things go
with the one with the velvet waistcoat?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“He was extremely cute,” Darcy held up the train to examine it. I thought the
flirty tone sounded rather brittle. “We had a rather lovely date that I hope we
will repeat in the new year since we’re supposed to be at the same meeting. I
shall hope he brings his waistcoat.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Well I have you covered,” Gerry told him, “I bought you a pot of that glitter
dust you like, and a brush, it’s upstairs in my suitcase-”<br />
<br />
<br />
“If you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dare</i> open another
pot of that in the house Gerald,” Paul said very firmly indeed, “this time
you’re staying right here until every flake is cleaned up. Which, judging by
the last time, will be about May. Opening glitter in this house is an automatic
spanking offense.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Noted.” Ash said from the couch. Gerry pulled at face at him.<br />
<br />
<br />
“It’s not like you’re on the nice list either darling, I have seen the state of
your sock drawer.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“There’s a car!” someone called, there was an icy blast as the front door was
opened briefly with several people vanishing out into the snow, Gerry squealed
and so did Bear, and Wade appeared from the study to look.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Is that them? They’ve finally made it out of Chicago?”<br />
<br />
<br />
A moment later a heavily overcoated James ushered Niall ahead of him straight
to the fire. Jake went to help with cases, and most of us moved aside to let
Niall sit on the hearth where the heat was strongest.<br />
<br />
<br />
“If you will drive around at ridiculous times of night,” Wade pointed out,
advancing on them, “then you’re going to get perishing. What the hell did
Chicago want?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“I’ll tell you later.” Niall got up to give him a tight hug. “We had the car
heater on full blast but it was still cold the whole way. Hello Tom, it’s good
to see you. Ri, what’s the news from Dale and Flynn? Where are they? How is he
doing?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“They haven’t called yet, they probably will around seven, but they should be
in Cheyenne and with only a couple of hours left to go tomorrow.” Paul brought
steaming mugs to them both, pausing to kiss Niall and then James. “Get straight
in a bath you two, get warm.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“I’ll go start it,” Riley abandoned the carefully laid out rows of now string
attached toys and he too paused to hug Niall and then James, who I saw cup
Riley’s head in his hand for a moment, murmuring something to Riley. Riley
looked up at him to give him a slight nod and a rather unsteady smile, but ran
upstairs to start the bath.<br />
<br />
<br />
“I see your community nurse managed not to throttle you,” James said rather
dryly to Wade, who shrugged at him.<br />
<br />
<br />
“I said I was going away for Christmas. She didn’t need to know more than
that.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Well she doesn’t now, as I gave her the dates and location, and Jacob ensured
you had your medication.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Where’s the fun in that?” Wade demanded. James collared him, rather deftly for
a staid and formal looking man, tucked Wade’s head under his arm and kissed the
top of it.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Go away, brat. Until I’m warm and less snow blind. Niall, come on.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“No stamina!” Wade called after him. He winked at me as he came to sit with us
at the hearth. “These are the things you lot went looking for this morning?
Bear, the stars are beautiful.” He picked one up, turning it gently in his
fingers. They were. Delicate, smooth as glass, things of real
beauty. Later I watched Darcy paint a name on each one with his artist’s
hand, handling each one with care. Sarah. Clay. Jesse. Reid. Hannah.</p>
<h1>Part 4</h1>
<p class="MsoNormal">“There’s nothing sentimental about it,” I said to Jake
later. We were walking through the woods again at the time. It wasn’t a planned
thing: with the woods looking like this both of us were having a hard time
staying out of them for more than a couple of hours at a time. You’d honestly
expect to see a lamp post and a White Witch wandering about at any moment.<br />
<br />
<br />
“It isn’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">aww</i>, it isn’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">oh it’s cute</i>; they genuinely do think of
these kids as people. Neighbours,”<br />
<br />
<br />
“They are.” Jake had been listening to me talk without much comment; he’d been
doing a lot of that in the past few days. I suspect it was to encourage me to
vent if I needed to. “We’ve all known those graves. Like Miguel said, it’s good
to know who they are and to have that contact with them. We’ve always known
they were part of the ranch.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Like Gam Saan in the little cemetery in the town. I’d seen most of this
interconnected family turn out to that, making the travel and committing the
costs to come and say goodbye to a man they’d never known had existed. There
had been nothing sentimental about that either. They’d acquired Dale into their
midst, perfectly sensible, highly committed and born for this place and these
people. And he then started finding bodies, seeing ghosts and spirits, waving
crystals around and generally indulging in a whole lot of woo, and not only
were they perfectly accepting of this, they joined in. En masse. While being
mostly, by and large, perfectly sensible and down to earth people, even the
ones who worked hard to not look sensible at all.<br />
<br />
<br />
“What is the matter with Darcy?” I demanded of Jake without bothering to trace
the subject leap for him. He didn’t mind. We both do it; we’re used to it.
“He’s walking around glittering like some bloody fairy off the Christmas tree,
clothes and teeth and jazz hands, and the second he thinks someone isn’t
looking he flops like he’s got the world on his shoulders.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“They’re really ticking you off tonight, aren’t they?” Jake inquired. I looked
around the wood, which was devoid of bird life and any other wildlife and
realised I’d probably raised my voice more than slightly.<br />
<br />
<br />
“No, they’re not.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Yes they are.” Jake said without heat. “Want to tell me why?”<br />
<br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Want to unpack that?</i><br />
<br />
<br />
Yeah it was a question that needed asking. I still bared my teeth at it.<br />
<br />
<br />
“I don’t know,” I said savagely. “I have no idea.”<br />
<br />
<br />
He nodded understanding. “We can move out to the bunk house. We can head out to
a hotel, or anywhere you like, we’ve done our bit.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Are you mad?” I demanded of him. He raised an eyebrow at me, clearly not that
bothered about his sanity or anything else. I scuffed snow at him. “No, we are
not going anywhere else.” I added the second bit while walking away from him;
which lessened the chance of him hearing it, or me having to see him hear it.
“I don’t<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> want</i> to be
anywhere else.”<br />
<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The night involved plummeting temperatures, more snowfall and therefore more
stock work. I liked stock work. Especially at three am when I was
going mad counting knots in the beam above the bed. Riley and I dug the porch
out again before we went back to bed. In the spots we hadn’t dug, the snow was
now level with the rail and the yard was filling up like a basin.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Are you ok?” he asked me at one point. I think I grunted more than answered;
it was the middle of the night.<br />
<br />
<br />
Paul waded back through the snow from the shelter where he’d been checking the
horses, and I saw him go into the stable, opening the door as little as
possible and his voice low. “Guys, are you warm enough in here?” <br />
<br />
<br />
Since he was asking dogs and horses, I doubted he was going to get a reply. He
was back a minute later, shoulders hunched and his arms folded against the
wind. There wasn’t much of it, but what there was, was cutting like a knife.<br />
<br />
<br />
“That’s dug, come on. Let’s get back to bed.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“I’ll finish it.” I told Riley. Paul shook his head at me.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Sweetie, you’ve done more than enough. Bed. Come on now.”<br />
<br />
<br />
I am very fond of Paul, and he was having a hard enough few days; I did the
good little brat thing and went inside with them. <br />
<br />
<br />
I went into our room as quietly as possible, since I hoped Jake was asleep. He
still felt for me when I lay down.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Planning to undress at all?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“No.”<br />
<br />
<br />
He’s never averse to a challenge. He rolled over and stripped me without
difficulty. I dropped back on the bed, scowling as he tossed my clothes out of
reach.<br />
<br />
<br />
“You’re supposed to be asleep.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Well since we’re awake anyway…”<br />
<br />
<br />
I fended him off. “Sleep. I was trying not to wake you. I’ll read.”<br />
<br />
<br />
He lay back, but one hand rubbed briefly over my shoulder. “Put a light on. Or
go on up to David’s map room, no one will be up there.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“I am <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i> lurking around
this house in the middle of the night.” I said rather sharply, grabbing up a
book from the night stand. “I’m not quite that weird. There’s moonlight. I can
see fine. Shut up. Get off. Go to sleep.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Jake gave me a friendly smile. It should have warned me. However he put his
head heavily on my thigh, went back to sleep, and I read the same sentence on
and off in my book while I stared out of the window at the dark.<br />
<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
It was a relief to be able to get up, dressed and escape the house which felt
very crowded this morning, despite only a handful of them being out of bed yet.
Even when they were all in bed and asleep I could feel a house full of people
breathing. Getting out into the pasture was about all that was on my mind. We
were therefore coated and booted at around seven am to go outside with the
handful of others who were turning out to do the early work. Except before I
made it off the steps, Jake, with a packet in his hand, caught my eye and
signalled to me to head the other way.<br />
<br />
<br />
Towards the bunkhouse.<br />
<br />
<br />
I may have argued slightly.<br />
<br />
<br />
Ok, I may have gone just a bit….<br />
<br />
<br />
Well, ‘no’ was the general gist of it, if not quite that politely put.<br />
<br />
<br />
He walked serenely past my mutiny and headed up the fence line as the others
went down towards the stock, tactfully taking no notice of me. It was a while
of standing in the yard and silently swearing, a lot, in a very unseasonal way,
before I stalked after him.<br />
<br />
<br />
The bunkhouse was unlocked although it was standing empty. Upstairs in the
hayloft room, which I’d always rather liked, the bed was made up. Paul had
obviously been prepared.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Which is<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> not</i> necessary,” I
told Jake – all right, I was probably flat out ranting by that point, “I am
perfectly capable of-”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Staring at the ceiling all night.” Jake agreed cheerfully, taking a seat on
the bed. Since like him, albeit under protest, I had taken off coat, boots and
snow dusted pants downstairs and left them to dry, he simply took the waistband
of my shorts, pulled them straight down, and turned me over his knee, bare
bottom up and at his disposal. I was too furious by that point to do anything
sensible, like shut up.<br />
<br />
<br />
“If I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">need</i> to move out here
I am perfectly able to…” I remember managing, before he got started. He didn’t
comment. He rarely does when he’s putting down a rebellion; it’s cheerfully
done with a firm hand. I was willing to sign an affidavit regarding that firm
hand by the time we were about six spanks in, and my backside, which had been
cold, was seriously smarting. I was not managing to be as nearly as angry as
I’d thought I was, pretty much everything was getting shifted fast in terms of
emotion and any hardness I was hanging on to was draining rapidly northwards in
the form of yelping and a lot of other highly undignified sounds. My rump was
going up in flames and was a thorough, Christmassy red all over when he paused,
my eyes were blurry, my breath was catching, and there was nothing left in
terms of stuck at all. He left none of it anywhere to hide. He’s never heavy
handed, but some things he really means.<br />
<br />
<br />
He shifted us both far enough over to pull the bed covers back, and then herded
me ahead of him to climb under them. I sat for a moment, breathless and
disintegrating, watching him open the old hayloft side hatch. Which means
pretty much that the whole wall of the room opens outwards. It opened out on
snowy pastures and trees with a rush of freezing, fresh air. Leaving it wide,
Jake yanked the pillows into a heap, sat with his back against them and got
hold of me, putting me directly on my blazing backside to sit in front of him,
my back against his chest. And he pulled the heavy quilt and blankets up around
us both and his arms wrapped very firmly around me from behind. I leaned hard against
him and went on gulping for a while.<br />
<br />
<br />
He doesn’t do arguing. Or negotiating. Or warning. Which I know better than
anyone. And damnit, damp eyed and chest released, it was annoying to admit; I’d
needed that. Probably about as much as I’d deserved it. It often makes me think
of the Snow Queen and the fragment of broken mirror in the heart of the boy,
freezing it to cold and spite. A good spanking invariably has a defrosting
effect on me.<br />
<br />
<br />
We sat there together for a while, looking out at the flowing white lines of
snow. And then he reached for the packet he’d brought, which turned out to be
sausage filled rolls he’d collected from the kitchen, and we shared them, or at
least he put bits in my mouth as he ate.<br />
When we were done, I obeyed the signal to lie down, pressed against him for
warmth, and his hand wandered over my back, and I looked out at the snowy
pastures beyond the bed. It was silent out here. Starting to snow again; flakes
were drifting down unhurriedly in a ridiculously story book way over the fallow
fields outside, the bunkhouse was still without another living soul in it but
us…..and my head was admittedly coming out of screaming mode. My shoulders were
starting to unknot in sheer relief.<br />
<br />
<br />
Admittedly I’d been out every time stockwork happened during the night; in part
because I liked being out at night and in part because it was something much
more entertaining to do than stare at the ceiling, since sleeping in a house
full of people… wasn’t really happening. Jake had been remarkably patient
considering it must have been like sharing a bed with a grasshopper last night;
not that he isn’t used to it. But he was not taking any grasshoppering this
morning. I felt him reach one handed for a book from the shelf beside the bed,
and prop it on his knee to open it, with the serene air that said if I said a
word or moved an inch he was very happy to carry on right on defrosting right
where we left off.<br />
<br />
<br />
Against him, in the snow, I slept. Probably for several hours.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Whoever planned the bed covers for this room had done their research: the
blankets were a thick, heavy weave and old wool that reminded me of Welsh
blankets, and we were more than warm beneath them. Laying in bed like this,
watching snow fall a few feet away, was rather hypnotic. Even after I woke, I
went on resting where I was and watching the flakes drifting for some time.
Jake was nearly halfway through his book when I looked, and he laid it down to
push my hair back out of my face.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Feeling any better?”<br />
<br />
<br />
He didn’t need me to answer that. I reached up on my elbows to kiss him
instead, a mixed apology and acknowledgement. He nipped gently at my lip, put
the book out of the way and lay back, wrapping his arms around me as I subsided
on his chest.<br />
<br />
<br />
“We cannot occupy two bedrooms.” I said into his sweater. “It’s not fair on the
rest of the house.”<br />
<br />
<br />
It was a tentative prod on my part since I wasn’t sure; was this him deciding
we moved out here? Or was this just his usual requiring me to come with him
somewhere quiet and rest in the day if I couldn’t sleep at night.<br />
<br />
<br />
“I have been overdoing it at night,” I said as honestly as I could when he
didn’t comment, since prodding him for information rather than doing the work
and talking about it was not exactly… …something I was supposed to get away
with. Yes. I was screwing up in spades today, and he was lying there being
large and warm and refusing to get remotely stressed about any of this, which
makes it a lot easier to try and get it into words. “I’m sorry, I like the
heavy stuff and its outside and the weather’s….”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Exciting.” Jake agreed. “And it’s hard to relax with a house full of people
around you. How much is that bothering you at night?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“I won’t ever get used to it if I don’t practice.” I pointed out. “We’ve always
got a tent miles away from everyone else, or a hotel room-”<br />
<br />
<br />
“You never sleep in hotel rooms.” Jake said mildly. “People moving around. Too
near. It doesn’t work for you. I know you like this particular lot of people. I
know you really want this to work,”<br />
<br />
<br />
“It’s not like I sleep much anyway, even if it’s just the two of us in the
middle of nowhere.” I said rather bitterly. He ran a hand through my hair,
tousling gently.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Well I like wolves. We’ll live.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“I…” I paused, very embarrassed to confess this, even to him, but I made myself
say it. “I don’t want them to think I had to give up. That I can’t do it.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Why? You think they wouldn’t understand?” Jake said reasonably. <br />
“You’ve seen Dale come apart at silly o clock more than once.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“I don’t want them to feel I want that distance. That I can’t cope with them
and don’t want to…I spent years doing that. And I’m sorry for it.”<br />
And I very much wanted to make amends for it.<br />
<br />
<br />
“I don’t think it’s a case of not trying hard enough.” Jake said gently. “I
think this is how it is. Tommy, we’ve been ok when it’s just a few people in
the house; that works and that’s probably the compromise. Just not when there’s
a houseful.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Do you want us to move out here?” I said heavily. It was his decision; not
mine. Jake settled deeper into the pillows.<br />
<br />
<br />
“We’ll mix and match. Some of both.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Jake, we cannot occupy two rooms when there’s a houseful. Gerry moved out of
that room to let us have it; it’s not fair.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“I think Gerry understands better than you know. Ask him.”<br />
<br />
<br />
It didn’t seem at all fair to me. I reflected on a few things, fiddling with a
loose thread on his fleece. “What is with Darcy? I’ve seen you notice it too.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“So has Paul. And Luath. He’s keeping an eye; Darce might talk to him. Or to
Jasper when Jas gets back. They’ve always been close. It’s not unusual. Darce
misses Roger at this time of year, his working Christmas season is tense and
overpacked to say the least so he often comes here still jangling and needs a
few days before he relaxes, and I think it’s hard for him to be one of the very
few single people in the house.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Hm. Frankly I thought the whole <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’m
not a brat</i> thing was getting in his way there; if you were asking me
on gut instinct what I thought the guy really needed, it was a good dose of
what Jake had just given me, and for much the same reason. Some of us are wired
that way: when it gets too much and the channels get too clogged, the route to
the heart unfortunately lies via the butt.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Does Bear have a sight problem?” I asked, before I waded in out of my depth
there. Jake shook his head.<br />
<br />
<br />
“No. Twenty twenty. For some reason he can’t make out text. It’s broader than
something like Dyslexia, Flynn did a full assessment for him years ago when he
wanted to apply properly to the zoo for a post. If he can touch it and handle
it then he can do pretty much anything mechanical, electrics, plumbing,
carpentry – you know how the memory thing works for you and me? All the bits
are there, but when we’re trying to get started on something the brain doesn’t
collect up all those bits of memory in a coherent way so it’s hard to see the
priority of what to do, or stay on task?”<br />
<br />
<br />
Yes, that happened to both of us. I knew about interest-led attention; we both
managed well building an entire life around that. On things we were interested
in, excited by, passionate about, we could… get completely overfocused and work
all night until we were in the mood from hell. Or at least I could. Interest,
emotion; for some reason it summoned up the brain chemistry we couldn’t otherwise
hold together. Things we weren’t interested in…were hell to do. Which was
largely why we had the working life we had, and weren’t going to be living in
one place for twenty years with neither of us able to stay on top of the
washing up. <br />
<br />
<br />
“It’s a bit like that from how Flynn explains it, just with other bits of brain
function. He’s a gifted guy. There’s other bits to it, he can’t really handle
money as a concept although he can measure and cook all you want.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Who taught you the memory stuff?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“I told you Philip found a school for me that specialised in…”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Raving lunatics.” I finished for him. “And a specialist teacher. That was your
Mr Hauser.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Who did quite a lot of sorting me out, along with Philip. He taught me a lot
about how I worked and how to manage it. Eighteen months with him, and I coped
in school ok after that.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Yes. In several public schools I’d had several scary but efficient matrons
who’d identified my issues and then achieved the same thing with me on nothing
more than plain common sense. I couldn’t say I’d enjoyed it or liked any of
them, but looking back they had trained into me sufficient life skills to
manage and I owed them for that.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Did you like him?” I asked. Jake grinned.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Very much. He got the concept, he kept us active, busy and interested.
Although I think he’d have an interesting answer for Gerry about me on the
whole naughty and nice issue.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“I never really did that kind of oh it’s Father Christmas thing.” I said a
little awkwardly, since there was definitely a part of me being clear it was
silly, meaning embarrassing, meaning I was way too tough and masculine and
rugged to be caught thinking anything like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i>. Bunnyphobia. It’s a long, slow recovery.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Even as a kid?” Jake asked me. I shrugged a little.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Frantically busy time of year, and the focus was on the traditions and the
meaning, gifts were from family to celebrate the season. Although my father
liked the old mythology. He read books with me about it when I was small – the
origins of St Nicholas, the manifestations in different countries, the Green
Man and the wild hunt.” Which I’d probably been a lot more interested in to be
honest. Fairies and wild hunts and spirits and saints had been very much up my
street when I was four or five. I was a weird child. Plus I suspect I had
parents who had realised in desperation that the one way to get me to fall
asleep was to read at me until I surrendered.<br />
<br />
<br />
“My aunts used to do the whole nine yards with the cookies and milk left out
and the chimney.” Jake said with affection.<br />
<br />
<br />
“And you bought into it?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“When I was little enough, yes, absolutely.” Jake shifted his shoulders deeper
into the pillows to get comfortable. “I gave it careful thought. When I was
about five I set a trap around the chimney. It was a good one too, except
instead of any large bearded men I caught an aunt, and she screamed the place
down.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“I have no idea how you ever got a Top qualification,” I told him severely. He
ran a hand down my back under the covers and patted where I was still very pink
and tender.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Philip blamed it on David for teaching me how to play Mousetrap. What?” he
added. I didn’t think I’d let it show on my face. He patted again, then rubbed,
a little more gently, which soothed but very definitely shifted my mind back. “What?”<br />
<br />
<br />
I took a breath, trying to sound calm about it. “Just thinking, you had them
involved in your family Christmases that far back-”<br />
<br />
<br />
“My home and my traditions are with you.” Jake interrupted me, and he sounded
amiably certain about it. “If I’ve got you, I don’t need anything after that.
Trust me; Philip would have been right behind that too. David came first with
him, and you and David would have got along like a house on fire. You have
never stopped me doing anything, so stop. Now.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“But you are pleased we’re here.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“I’m pleased I’m here with you.” Jake said frankly. “That’s the top of the
mountain for me. Being with you having fun here. Paul said when we got here: we
do this our way. The point is enjoying it. Enjoying being with them, not making
it into an ordeal. Ordeals are your family. Not mine. Mine like you. They’re
all for you being happy.” <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
<br />
We were back in the yard and helping with digging out paths and clearing the
porch of snow and ice mid morning when Riley came out of the house with a
couple of saddle bags in his hand, and rolled his eyes at me as the open door
brought the sound of Luath’s voice explaining quite firmly to someone that
there was not going to be noise and crashing about once Dale got here. He
couldn’t process it, it wasn’t safe for him, and if the environment wasn’t held
together in a way that he could manage he’d be stuck upstairs in his room for
Christmas. I’d heard James and a couple of the others with Top type voices say
very similar last night; there was obviously a Top type agreement on how the
next few days would go.<br />
<br />
<br />
“They are already holding it down for you,” Riley told me, closing the door
behind him. “If they hold it down much more it’s going to be like having
Christmas in a tomb.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Then tell them not to hold it down on my account.” I said sharply, “Let rip.
I’m not that much of an arse, I survived bloody years of public school and no
one ever held it down there.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“You mostly survived it by sitting on the roof,” Riley pointed out. “Coming to
help us decorate this tree?”<br />
<br />
<br />
I looked for Jake who grinned at me and went on shovelling ice. I growled, put
my spade to one side and followed Riley down the porch steps. Gerry, Bear and
several others were coating and booting up in the kitchen; I could see them
through the glass. I wasn’t sure; it wasn’t like they wore identity badges, but
this looked to me to have become a brat committee. We crossed the frozen river
together, mob handed, and although there was a fair amount of noisy and
cheerful chatter about which tree and the height things should go, the tree got
decorated. Bear with his huge hands placed things delicately, he and Darcy
seemed to have the artistic eye and know how to present things in the way that
made them look like some official Christmas display. Tall enough to reach some
of the higher branches, Bear and I put most of the last ones up, although Bear
boosted Darcy to place the highest of all. When we’d done, here in this quiet,
snowy wood, the decorated tree looked like something magical, the bright
colours of the toys brighter against the snow.<br />
<br />
<br />
“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">For it is good to be children sometimes,
and never better than at Christmas, when its mighty Founder was a child Himself</i>,”
I muttered without thinking. I’m too used to Jake, who knows most of the quotes
and does this too. Riley looked across to me, interested.<br />
<br />
<br />
“I know that one, what’s it from?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“A Christmas Carol,” Bear told him before I pulled myself together to apologise
for gibberishing. His dark liquid eyes smiled at me. He’d been looking at the
tree with open pleasure; the man radiated warmth. There was a kind of purity to
it that went with the face and body of an angel, a quality Dorje had too and
which made me think of another and far more ancient <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">quote Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of Heaven as a
little child shall not enter therein</i>.<br />
<br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">And what does that mean</i>? I had
heard my father ask in many sermons, and considered for myself many times.
Joyfully. Trustingly. Innocently.<br />
<br />
<br />
Without hardness. So much of it so often came back to that. Without the
protective shell of cynicism, without holding yourself one step removed. It was
what I was drawn to in this man, it was the beauty I saw in him. It was what
I’d always loved in Paul.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Dickens!” Gerry said happily. “Philip used to read that to us every year at
Christmas, we loved that book.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Yes well I’d thought for a long time now that Philip was a right-thinking kind
of a chap. </p>
<h1>Part 5</h1>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">We’d been back a while when the four by four came into sight
with Flynn at the wheel.<br />
<br />
<br />
The end of a long journey across multiple states; I could only imagine his
relief. By that point, probably over half the men staying in the house were out
in the yard helping clear snow, and I saw the effort all of them made to stand
back and let Riley and Paul get there first, to not crowd or fuss. It was a
sensitivity I’d seen before when people arrived and left; I suppose it was
natural in a large group like this. Dale looked paler than usual and somewhat
tired, but the relief and the delight was evident in his face as he got hold of
Riley. The two of them hung on for a moment, I could see them talking, then
Riley grabbed Flynn who picked him up off his feet. Paul was waiting at the
foot of the porch steps, and he held his arms out when Dale looked for him. Dale
went to him like an arrow from a bow. Fairly steady on his feet, he could
obviously make out who it was and where they were. It was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">good</i> to see him. It was a huge
relief to see him looking better than I’d been afraid he would. I found Flynn’s
arm around my shoulders. He looked tired too; I wasn’t surprised since he’d
driven several thousand miles, and the last few hours of it would have been on
bloody awful roads after several bloody awful days. But he too had the same
relief and release in his face, and his eyes were warm when he tugged me over
and kissed my cheek.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Hi. I’m glad you’re here.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Me too.” I gave him a swift, tight hug in return, very glad he was here too,
and with a lot of sympathy for what he’d just been through. “I’ll get you for
that later.”<br />
<br />
<br />
He laughed, and went towards the steps, lengthening his stride to get there
quicker as Dale began to climb them. As if he had to be certain of being in
reach, as if Dale might fall. He’d suffered the brunt of this; he’d been the
one there when Dale couldn’t see anything at all, he’d seen Dale not able to
find his way across the room. If I was any judge that had to be one stressed
Top. Jasper’s shoulder brushed mine. I looked across at him, saw the smile that
said <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hello</i>, and twisted around
to give him a quick hug too. Gently, since while Flynn does bone cracking hugs
like Jake does, Jasper tends to enfold more than hug. There’s something as
respectful of space in it as there is affection.<br />
<br />
<br />
“How are you doing? Have they driven you out to the bunkhouse yet?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“We’re hanging in there.” I told him. “I haven’t driven anyone else out there
either yet.”<br />
<br />
<br />
I rounded up Jake for help and we put cases upstairs, then sorted out tea,
since Paul had gotten Dale as far as the family room, pulled him into his lap,
and I didn’t think he planned to move for a while. I couldn’t blame him; the
past few days must have been hell. Flynn, once he saw Dale safely settled, had
gone out to look at the stock. And if I was any judge to stretch his legs and
back, get some fresh air and try and get his bearings. I left him in peace.
Jasper had seated himself on the hearth and taken Riley into his lap having
been several days away from him, and I didn’t doubt he had an idea of how those
days had been. We spread tea pots and cups all over the coffee table, in easy
reach of anyone who needed it. Dale took a cup with obvious relief. A few
others had gathered there with them, Darcy next to Jasper, Gerry and Ash, and
Theo was holding Bear’s hand as he sat on the arm of Bear’s chair as I could
see the big man was physically wanting to get hold of Dale as if he needed to
know he was ok. Jake leaned on the back of the sofa behind Gerry. The signal to
me was clear; <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">its ok. Come on</i>.<br />
<br />
<br />
I did it as quietly as possible but I took a seat at the far end of the hearth,
and Dale immediately looked across to me as if he’d been looking for me. He
didn’t say anything but I nodded in reply to the faint smile and the tilt of
his head.<br />
<br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hello.<br />
<br />
<br />
Good morning</i>. <br />
<br />
<br />
“You’re tired.” Paul rubbed a hand down Dale’s arm. He was having a hard time
taking his eyes off Dale’s face, although he was keeping his voice in the usual
calm Paul tone, as if nothing was a problem. “What was the Casper hotel like?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Loud.” Flynn said shortly, coming to join us. He took a seat next to Paul,
helping himself to tea and wrapping his hands around his cup. Luath had come
with him, he also picked up a cup and caught my eye, flashing me a rather kind
smile. On the couch I saw Paul reach a hand to find Flynn’s and hold it.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Only downstairs.” Jasper corrected. “We were fine up in the room, the bed was
comfortable, and we left before it had a chance to get loud again this morning.
There was some kind of party going on downstairs when we arrived yesterday, it
was more than we needed to handle.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“If you’d have let me hike out with you,” Riley informed him, “You’d have had
more pairs of hands to help,”<br />
<br />
<br />
“And it would have been louder and busier.” Flynn finished. <br />
<br />
<br />
“You’re no fun.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“On iced roads in heavy snow, no.” Flynn said bluntly.<br />
<br />
<br />
I swallowed a smile at that which wouldn’t have been tactful.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Is anyone coming to get this tree?” Bear inquired. Jasper got up, taking Riley
with him before Riley had time to think about it.<br />
<br />
<br />
“We are. Ri, let’s get Boris.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“If we don’t take all three of them Petra’s going to sulk.” Riley looked keen
for whatever this was; I could read his face. Dale and Flynn were here, Riley
was satisfied they were ok, life went on as normal and life was good again.
There is something really rather lifting about being around someone with this
kind of trust and optimism, Riley does it well. “She loves making this trip.
Dale, coming?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“No.” Paul said with finality, over the top of Flynn’s equally definite “No.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Well that would be a no then.<br />
<br />
<br />
“I’m coming.” Darcy got up and Luath joined him.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Me too. Jake?”<br />
<br />
<br />
Riley was looking at me with a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">come
on!</i> expression, waiting in the doorway.<br />
<br />
<br />
“We’re in.” Jake straightened up and held out a hand to me. Someone had
apparently tipped off the group in the study; men were starting to gather in a
large crowd in the kitchen to sort out coats and boots. This tree thing was
obviously going to be a large, full family affair. I didn’t know this ritual
but it obviously mattered. I got up somewhat warily, bracing myself for whatever
this was going to involve.<br />
<br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Trustingly. Joyfully</i>.<br />
<br />
<br />
Yes, that mattered.<br />
<br />
<br />
While everyone was busy getting organised, I stooped over the couch to kiss
Dale’s cheek.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Fortune favours the brave,” I muttered at him in Latin, knowing he’d get the
private joke and knowing too he’d understand that it wasn’t wholly a joke. This
was taking nerve; he and I both knew well about the importance of taking the
people-type risks.<br />
<br />
<br />
I knew the quote he muttered back to me: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Ignis aurum probat</i>.” <br />
<br />
<br />
Shorthand for the whole quote: “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">as gold
is tempered by fire, so strong men are tempered by suffering</i>”.<br />
<br />
<br />
Largely by suffering Christmas in a family setting. He hadn’t lost his sense of
humour in the past few days. I shook my head at him.<br />
<br />
<br />
“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Quae semper</i>.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“That sounded dramatic,” I heard Paul say behind me as we left. “What did that
mean?”<br />
<br />
<br />
Dale sounded cheerfully serene about it, the way he does when he’s reached a
state of enjoying himself. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Quae semper</i>?
It means ‘whatever’.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Riley and Jasper were tacking up two of the huge shire horses in the snowy
yard, with a lot of willing pairs of hands helping them. Prepared to be open
hearted about this, I went to join them, and watched in disbelief as Riley made
an adjustment to the harness of the largest of the two. Then I went to find
Jake, who was at the back of the crowd.<br />
<br />
<br />
“He’s put <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bells</i> on that
horse. He’s put actual bloody <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bells</i> on
that horse.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Yes, he does that.” Jake offered sympathetically. I looked again at the men in
Stetsons and coats and the horses, and the bells which were jingling softly as
the horse shifted position, and shook my head, inching further behind Jake and
dropping my voice lower as I couldn’t help saying it. He’d done a good job
sorting me out this morning, and so had Bear, and Flynn, and Dale, and now it
was melting and bursting out whether I was willing or not.<br />
<br />
<br />
“They’re going to walk through the freaking <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">snow</i> with horses with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bells</i> on….
Any minute now there’s going to be fluffy little animals having bloody tea
parties around a mushroom!”<br />
<br />
<br />
“It gets worse,” Jake slung an arm around my shoulders. “We sing too.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“And then you can go and get Mabel, and we can all die of glycaemic shock.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Across the yard, Gerry burst out laughing. As soon as he cracked I saw several
others lose the battle to pretend they hadn’t overheard, Riley included. I
flushed, darkly, since this was being extremely rude, and Gerry advanced on me,
still laughing but shaking his head.<br />
<br />
<br />
“No darling, it’s fine. You lose it any time you need to, we have all been
there.” <br />
<br />
<br />
“Ger if you try and hug him I think he’ll probably implode,” Jake kindly got
between him and me. “You and Ri take the horses, I’ll keep Tom topped up with
insulin, we’re going to make it.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Gerry gave me one of his really warm smiles, the man does it well. And he
thankfully walked away and the crowd began to follow the horses out into the
pasture. Kit, the man I’d met yesterday was in amongst them, walking with James
and Niall who seemed to be particular friends of his. He too caught my eye and
flashed me a very kind smile, not in the least critical and a whole lot
more <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">chin up, you can do it</i>. So
definitely a Top. Rather than annoying, it was somehow quite encouraging.<br />
<br />
<br />
Jake glanced down at me, aqua eyes soft and laughing because he knew I didn’t
mind that much. Not really. Not in any bad way. Arm still around me, we tramped
in the wake of the others and Jake lifted his voice in the way he usually only
sings if we’re alone somewhere,<br />
<br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Good King Wenceslas looked out<br />
On the feast of Stephen…”</i><br />
<br />
<br />
He was barely one line in before they all joined him.<br />
<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
<br />
They did, you know. They actually sang, all the bloody way to the woods where
with a fair bit of friendly arguing they selected between them and cut a tree,
and the shire horse with the bells on dragged it over the snow, back to the
ranch.<br />
<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I watched them decorate it that afternoon, eating home-made mince pies off the
plate Jake and I were sharing by the fire as the wind was getting up outside
and more snow was threatening. There were wrapped decorations that Niall and
Gerry and Darcy were gently laying out ready; a mix of carved wooden ones that
seemed to include a number of boats, and delicate red glass baubles.<br />
<br />
<br />
“David carved a lot of the boats,” Gerry told me when he saw me looking. “The
red glass ones were Philip’s mother’s.”<br />
<br />
<br />
It was plain in his voice how fond he was of both. It didn’t surprise me. This
house and land were full of the reminders of the two men who had founded the
ranch; their presence mattered to everyone in this room. I knew some of the
individual stories. Philip and David were loved, there was real feeling and
history of those connections sitting here. The Christmas trees and decorations
I had grown up with had been magnificent at the cathedral, I had loved to see
them appear, but they came – in the Cathedral and the close and in our house –
with professional decorators, and giant trees, and vast strings of lights. They
were formal displays, part of the staging of one of the most important events
of the cathedral year.<br />
<br />
<br />
There hadn’t been a tree, still dripping a bit from the snow, being decorated
by a group of people bickering amicably about where things should go with
advice around them from those eating mince pies on the sidelines, and using
familiar decorations that went back so many decades in the family history.
Using the same colours and decorations two years running would have been, to my
mother, the height of social unacceptability. I suspected Dale’s experience was
likely very similar in many ways, if he had much experience at all. I had at
least had the cathedral Christmases, and I had loved them. The beauty of the
close in its decorations, the beauty of the music and the language, the formal
services repeated in this building where they had been repeated word by word for
a thousand years, the atmosphere that drew out the mystery and the mixed joys
of the festival. King and God and Sacrifice. Whatever had been going on in the
house when I was a child, I always had that.<br />
<br />
<br />
I turned a bit on the hearth towards Gerry as he unwound a string of gold
beads, lowering my voice for his ears only.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Gerry, it was beyond kind of you to let us have your room, but Jake- I-”<br />
<br />
<br />
“- got hauled out to the bunkhouse this morning for a few hours sleep.” Gerry
said without delicacy and a lot of shared understanding when I baulked. “From
what I hear it was about time too, Riley said you were grouchier than Flynn in
a mall.”<br />
<br />
<br />
I tried valiantly not to turn too red and to sound coherent; there were a lot
of men in this house who got the concept of the best cure for grouchiness on a
very personal level, and we both knew exactly what he meant. “So it isn’t fair
of us to hold your room when we’re probably going to be needing to use the
bunkhouse too. I’ll talk to Paul and move us out of there this afternoon-”<br />
<br />
<br />
“No, you won’t.” Gerry said simply. “You’re not going to worry about it. It’s
fine.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“It isn’t fair to you, or Darcy and Luath-”<br />
<br />
<br />
Gerry dropped his hands to his lap looking near to laughing. “Darling. Darce
would have gone in with Luath anyway. At this time of year they both need the
company. And I first came here feeling a lot like I think you do right now. I
get it.” He said it gently and sincerely. “I really do get it. And believe me,
I was nothing like as easy as you are to have around; I was a pain.
Loudly. A lot. Ask James, or Wade to tell you. They both went out of their way
to make me feel safe and wanted and comfortable here, a whole lot of them did.
So this is my turn. And that means if you need room options to sleep
comfortably, then that is no problem at all.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“But it’s your room and it matters to you, I know it does.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Yes, it really does.” Gerry gave me a happy smile. “It’s my room, in my home,
in my family, that matters to me very much indeed, and that is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">exactly</i> why it’s ok. In fact it’s
great. I’m really rather smug it’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i> room
that you like; I’m fond of it and I like that it matters to you too. I told
you; it’s my turn. Please let me take my turn, it feels kind of good. And give
it twenty years, and it’ll be your turn. That’s how we work.”<br />
<br />
<br />
I had no idea what to do with that. And he smiled at me, and went on stringing
Christmas decorations, shoulder to shoulder with me on the hearth.<br />
<br />
<br />
There were a few things Dale and Flynn had brought Paul from the Christmas fair
they had attended at Kearney: I watched Paul unwrap them and add them to the
tree. Woven twig stars and clove balls. Several bunches of cinnamon sticks were
already on the tree; like the apples in a bowl on the coffee table there were a
number of the most ancient pagan markers here. Dale, in pyjamas and a sweater
on the couch where Flynn and Paul were keeping a close eye on him, joined in
with the tree commentary and when the tree was decorated, Flynn turned off the
electric lights, and Paul lit the many candles on the mantel, until the room
was lit only by firelight and candlelight. People were everywhere; in the
study, in the kitchen, even some were out on the porch in the Christmas lights,
with not so many of us left clustered in here. It was peaceful, which must have
helped Dale.<br />
<br />
<br />
Riley pulled out the rolled map Darcy had been drawing and spread it out on the
coffee table in front of Dale, and Gerry brought a couple of logs from the log
basket to weight it flat.<br />
<br />
<br />
“I know you can’t read this,” Riley told Dale, as Dale tilted his head to try
and see. “Don’t try and strain your eyes, this is a map of the Oregon trail.
Niall and Darcy sketched it out from what you told us about it and from the
books in the study – they did a beautiful job, Darce draws like an artist.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Thank you.” Darcy knelt on the floor beside him, putting several pencils down
on the paper. “It’s all the drawing out I do of stage designs at work, I get
practice. We were trying to mark out Sarah’s route, but there’s a lot of gaps.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Do you know where she started from?” Gerry said hopefully. “We have this kind
of space over here marked ‘Wisconsin’ but it seems a bit vague in a ‘here be
dragons’ kind of a way.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Green Bay.” I could see Dale resisting the urge to squint or get closer to the
map in an effort to read it. “Start from Green Bay. Then come south and south
west to Council Bluffs, that’s where they joined the trail itself.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“And Council Bluffs is where she showed you Clay.” Bear brought a plate over to
sit on the hearth stone near Gerry. A small crowd of family was assembling with
us around the map. “That’s the supply town.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Don’t look so shocked, darling.” Gerry said gently to Dale. “We’ve all of us
known Sarah, long before you found out her name for us. Niall and Wade knew
where her wagon was when they were younger than any of us are now, she’s always
been part of the ranch. Philip and David would have loved to have known this
stuff as much as we do.”<br />
<br />
<br />
I sat there, rather numbly, listening to them chatter together as the map grew
and Dale explained. Jake leaned on the back of the sofa, stooping to hook an
arm around Dale’s neck and give him a gentle hug that was the first <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hello</i> he’d given Dale. I’d been
watching people take it slowly, coming to find him one at a time in their own
time rather than crowd him. “If the kids hang around the yard or the pasture at
all tonight they’re going to notice the porch and wonder what’s going on. Space
shuttles must pass overhead and wonder what’s going on.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“It looks good, you leave the porch alone.” Gerry told him severely. “Tom, make
him behave. And turn up the radio, the carol service is due any minute now. Is
it something you’ve listened to before? The Kings College service?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“No. When I lived in England I mostly attended the real thing at home.” I
turned up the radio since I was nearest, which was explaining the shipping
forecast for the English channel at present, and came back to sit on the
hearth, looking down at the map with the rest of them. “Our cathedral was
beautiful at Christmas. Where’s Windlass Hill in relation to Ash Hollow? We
couldn’t figure out how close the two were.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Dale explained for a while, and they went on sketching, and more people
assembled around us, and the carol service began on the radio. Apparently they
always listened to carols from Kings College on Christmas Eve; a tradition that
surprised me in its familiarity. I’d never seen the Kings College broadcast on
television where it was the mainstay of British Christmas Eve BBC output; I’d
always either been involved in the real live carol service taking place in our
own cathedral at Christmas Eve, or after I left home I knew of the real thing
happening at Kings, since I was at University in the same town. Or else I slid
into whatever cathedral carol service was nearest to whatever holiday job I was
working. Likewise midnight mass; to stay awake until midnight for mass was
something I’d done annually since I was six years old, probably helped in part
that I was a six year old who didn’t sleep much anyway. But some part of me
still felt the excitement of being old enough to be allowed to join the vigil;
the sheer wonder of waiting into the night. <br />
<br />
<br />
I’d been taught as a child, I’d heard it so often in my father’s sermons at
Christmas; this festival was rooted in the history of going home. Returning to
the place of your birth; the return of the holy family to their place of birth
for Roman census, the reason of their being at Bethlehem. By my teens it had
become a painful duty, and I abandoned it at eighteen, once they no longer had
to financially support me.<br />
<br />
<br />
It still hadn’t stopped being something that called to me.<br />
<br />
<br />
And here was a houseful of people to whom it meant everything. They returned
not to their place of birth but where their family were; the place they had made
home. They loved this time together. It was what I’d heard in my childhood,
exactly, but never before felt or understood as I did tonight.<br />
<br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I wear the chain I forged in life, I made
it link by link……I girded it on of my own free will</i><br />
<br />
<br />
The quote ricocheted around, rather acid in its intensity.<br />
<br />
<br />
Jake drifted
into the study with Flynn and with James, in the harmless way he does when he’s
purposeful about something; there were a few of the older Tops looking to me as
if they were wanting to decompress Flynn a bit. Everyone else was gathered at
the hearth and were mostly quiet, listening to the carols on the radio in the
firelight. Dale had slid down to the floor in front of the couch with a mug of
tea between his hands, and was leaning against Paul’s legs. Riley and Jasper
were building a card house on the coffee table with Darcy periodically helping.
Gerry had quite frankly moved to cuddle with Ash, the two of them curled
together on the sofa, and plenty of others were hand in hand. The room was very
peaceful. Peaceful enough that I tried to move very quietly when I edged around
the couches and went upstairs.<br />
<br />
<br />
There was no one up here. It was dark and still, and I didn’t turn the light
on. Instead I went into our room at the end of the hall and around the corner,
and dug in my rucksack for my battered, sandy hiking boots. And a fleece, and
gloves. And with somewhat grimly controlled impulse, I slid our bedroom window
open, got up on to it, and found my way up through thick snow, onto the roof.<br />
<br />
<br />
It was even quieter up there. The snow had stopped falling; it was very still
outside, the sky was high and clear, my breath steamed in front of me, and the
darkness was…. helpful. Up on the slope of the tiles, I folded my arms on my
knees, tipped my head back to stare at the stars above me, and tried to
breathe. It wasn’t going too well. I was still wrestling with it when a quietly
conversational voice said from somewhere nearby,<br />
<br />
<br />
“I’ve never been able to identify anything more than Orion’s Belt. Not for lack
of trying, I just seem to find it hard to see the patterns.”<br />
<br />
<br />
I jumped a mile. Looking down, I could see a tall, dark figure sitting on the
windowsill of Jake and my room. I couldn’t see his face, and anyway he was
looking out into the night rather than up at me, but I recognised the voice.
Kit.<br />
<br />
<br />
“And now I’ll bet you’re thinking it’s even worse being caught taking some time
out on the roof than it is to get to the point of needing it,” he went on in
much the same tone. “Except it really isn’t; it seems a most sensible approach
to me. Going high feels better?”<br />
<br />
<br />
He appeared to feel it was normal to have a conversation with someone on a
roof. He’d obviously noticed enough of my exit to follow and find me, but it
was conversation; there was no hint of concern, or fuss about the insanity of
sitting in snow, or encouragement to come down. I had to clear my throat to get
my voice to work.<br />
<br />
<br />
“I used to do this when I was a kid.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Did you? I imagine it shuts down all the stimulation in one go. You get the
space and the perspective all at the same time, up above everything.” His voice
was slightly dreamy, as if he understood the appeal, and he had pretty much
nailed it. “I know Jake chills out and goes with flow when things get busy;
it’s always been a buzz to him. It looks like things get more overwhelming to
you. What’s it like being in a house this full of people? Feeling every one of
them breathing?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“At night, a bit.” It wasn’t easy to admit, but it was the truth. And his
relaxed posture sitting on the windowsill looking out at the stars with me was
helping; he was making it easy to talk. “That wasn’t exactly why….”<br />
<br />
<br />
“…You needed a break?” he suggested when I trailed off. “Look at that one over
there. Is that the big dipper?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“I think it’s a bit of Cassiopeia.” I said apologetically.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Ah. Yes. Chained to the heavens by Poseidon. Who I’ve often thought was not
the most stable of Olympians even by their standards.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Well that was one way of putting it. Out here, in the dark, in the crisp, fresh
air and with this man’s easy voice near, I found myself saying it aloud, to the
pastures and the stars. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I wear the chain
I forged in life…</i>”<br />
<br />
<br />
“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I made it, link by link</i>,” he
finished for me. “A Christmas Carol.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“I heard Philip used to read it aloud at Christmas.” I said, carefully sounding
off hand so that it might have been something that just occurred to me.<br />
<br />
<br />
“He did.” Kit agreed. “Gerry and Bear and David in particular loved it. What’s
your chain, Tom? It’s an interesting idea Dickens has there. I think mine has
always been a tendency to worry too much about the small things. How does the
story go – <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you fear the world too
much, Ebeneezer</i>.”<br />
<br />
<br />
I couldn’t answer. He didn’t press it. Just said in the same relaxed tone, “The
thing I always understood from that story – you gird your chain on by your own
free will, which will always mean, by the same free will, you can choose to
take it off. Hello Jacob. How is the carol service going?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“They’re onto the fifth lesson.” I heard the creak as Jake climbed up the porch
roof and made his way across to me. “The Archangel Gabriel is doing his bit
according to St Luke.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“I’d better head down and get ready for the shepherds then. See you later.” He
got off our windowsill and I heard the window close as he disappeared inside.
Jake made his way across the roof and sat down beside me. He didn’t say
anything, just tipped his head back to look at the stars alongside me.<br />
<br />
<br />
“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Whosoever doth not receive the kingdom
of Heaven as a little child</i>…” I quoted eventually, somewhat incoherently.
Jake nodded reflectively. His breath was misting, as was mine. An occasional
cattle lowed, in accordance with tradition.<br />
<br />
<br />
“How does that happen?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Well Bear lives and breathes it for a start.” I said shortly. “You should see
the tree out in the woods they’ve done for Dale’s kids; it’s beautiful. A
beautiful, natural thing, and they just did it without thinking twice. It means
joyfully. Innocently. Trustingly. And there’s one I’m chickening out of because
I don’t want to say it,”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Which generally means it’s the one that matters.” Jake finished for me.
“What’s that one?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Expectantly.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Ah.”<br />
<br />
<br />
It didn’t surprise him. It didn’t surprise me; Dale and I both hated asking for
anything. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He</i> practiced it;
he made himself. We both knew it mattered. As a part of your trust in the world
and the people you loved, asking for and expecting mattered. Being willing to
take the risk of expecting. Take the risk of believing.<br />
<br />
<br />
“When I was a kid, Christmas was something beautiful,” I said to the sky and to
him. “The ritual and meaning of it, the awe of it – <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i> was in the cathedral in spades, I’ve lurked around the
edges of it to get that fix pretty much every year, any sacred space we were
near to.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“I know.” Jake said simply. “That’s always mattered to you.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“But the rest of it,” I waved a frustrated hand at the yard, “The whole… I saw
it, as a kid I saw it. It was staging and organising and expense and pretending
everything was lovely when it was damn hard work. All the other traditional
stuff around the sacred parts always seemed a bit… Oh I don’t know. Forced.
Artificial. Going through the motions. Trees and meals and gatherings.”<br />
<br />
<br />
He looked across at me, listening. I glared at him. “I have spent bloody <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">years</i> thinking the stuff I read in
books about all this joyful and magical wonder of being with family and home
was romantic fiction. Empty sentiment. Only kids and bunnies really believed in
it.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Jake nodded slowly, leaning his elbows on his knees. He said nothing for a
moment. And then he quoted lightly, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It
came without ribbons, it came without tags</i>….”<br />
<br />
<br />
Yes. Exactly.<br />
<br />
<br />
Here, they bloody tied it all together, the sacred and the domestic, all in one
neat bale like hay, and they pretty much stuck holly on top. All of it. All of
them. It was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">lovely</i> to watch.
And until you experienced the contrast… until you were somewhere with joyful
people who made you welcome, who loved to be together, who genuinely enjoyed
and felt the season they were enacting-<br />
<br />
<br />
“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">There is nothing so irresistibly
contagious in the world as laughter and good humour</i>,” I snarled at Jake,
whose face twisted with a mix of laughter and deep sympathy, and he put an arm
around me and pulled me over against him, holding me there as I dissolved into
a snivelling, wet mess.<br />
<br />
<br />
“I know.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“And I am not missing my parents, or regretting any of it, or wishing it had
been different – in fact I don’t really bloody think of them at all,” I said
into his shoulder. “That part is over.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“It’s three spirits in the story, isn’t it?” Jake leaned his head against mine,
sounding as if he was thinking out loud. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“I
will live in the past, the present and the future. The spirits of all three
will strive within me</i>.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Which is accepting the knowledge of the past without hardening, embracing the
joy of the present and seeing the future it leads to,” I said even more
irritably, through a lot of dampness. “I know. Why do you think I’m in a mess?
Trustingly, innocently…you think this is easy? It’s a bit late in life to…”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Discover that you really do like Christmas.” Jake finished for me. “I know.
It’s as unfair as putting bells on horses.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“And singing at sodding Christmas trees.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“I’m very sorry about that.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“No you’re not.” I pulled away enough to run my snow plastered sleeve over my
face. Jake helped, rather more gently.<br />
<br />
<br />
“All right, not very.” He held my face in his hand for a moment, leaned over
and kissed me. “I’ve got you though. You’re going to live through it.”<br />
<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
<br />
We went back in through the bedroom window. Neither of us are civilised. It
meant shaking snow off clothes as much as possible and balling them up to take
down to the laundry room since our room was too small to put them to dry, and
Jake pulled me into the shower with him since we had upstairs mostly to
ourselves. The carols were still going on downstairs, I could hear faint
strains of Good Christian Men Rejoice.<br />
<br />
<br />
Preferably without climbing up onto a roof and sobbing.<br />
<br />
<br />
I was slightly surprised to find that when we dried off, he pulled cords
and the proper shirts and wool sweaters I’d bought at the airport instead of
our usual fleeces and jeans. The family room was still very dimly lit, and
quiet as pretty much everyone now was relaxed in a chair or on the floor and
listening. Paul glanced up and smiled at us as we passed. Dale’s eyes met mine
with a slightly more considering look that said he had some idea of what was
going on. Kit was on the floor with the magician guy – William – lounging with
his head on Kit’s lap. Darcy was between Luath and Wade on the hearth, a glass
spinning gently in his fingers as he listened to the carols. Jake took me to a
space on the floor by the hearth and pulled me down beside him, putting an arm
firmly around my waist.<br />
<br />
<br />
“When did Kit live here?” I muttered to Jake. “I can see he’s fond of you.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Jake grinned, lounging back against the hearth stone which made him more
available to lean against. “Despite everything. He was a friend of Philip’s, he
and William stayed here on and off in the vacations when I was a kid; I was in
his class for those eighteen months I told you about.”<br />
<br />
<br />
I nearly spluttered. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He’s</i> your
Mr Hauser? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He’s</i> the teacher
you had?”<br />
<br />
<br />
Part of me was reviewing, fast, in alarm, how much I’d given myself away to a
specialist teacher of raving ADHD nuts. Jake nodded calmly.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Since he’s always had an eye on his handiwork with raising me, he said it’s
been lovely to get to meet you.”<br />
<br />
<br />
The last of the nine lessons was concluding, and the choir began the final
carol, the one with the verse only ever sung in the hours we were in now; the
night before and tomorrow morning.<br />
<br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Yea Lord we greet thee, born this happy
morning…</i><br />
<br />
<br />
Flynn and James came from the study together, James to take a seat Niall made
for him by shifting over on a couch and Flynn to lean on the back of the couch
above Paul and Dale. I sat, listening to words I had known all my life, which
stirred and lifted me as they had always done, in a room full of the people I
was part of, who were also listening sincerely.<br />
<br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’m as light as a feather… I’m as merry
as a schoolboy.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
I was full to the point I was going to start overflowing again if I didn’t get
it together. I pressed a bit harder against Jake, blinking until the firelight
stabilised.<br />
<br />
<br />
Flynn put a hand down to Dale as soon as the carol ended.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Right. That’s it. Bed.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Flynnn…...” Riley complained. “He’s only been home a few hours and it’s
Christmas Eve,”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Head injury.” Flynn helped Dale to his feet. “Get dressed halfpint. I’ll see
Dale upstairs and then I’ll come shift some more hay down to the feed stands
with you.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“And I’ll go,” Luath added, stretching, as Paul and Flynn took Dale upstairs.
“It’s my turn.”<br />
<br />
<br />
I glanced at Jake, who did not bother looking at me or moving. The answer was
fairly clear.<br />
<br />
<br />
“You two,” Luath added, pausing by us on his way to the door, “Take tonight
off. It’s not as cold, there’s no more snow forecast, we’ll only be out once or
twice tonight and you’ve done more than your share. We’ve got it covered.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Bunkhouse.” Jake murmured in my ear as they went out. “I have brandy in my
backpack. And chocolate. We’ll head over there and…”<br />
<br />
<br />
Yes, I was fairly sure I knew what he had in mind, and it sounded very good to
me.<br />
<br />
<br />
In the meantime, we sat by the fire with the others, and waited for midnight to
come.<br />
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b>The End</b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i><b> Copyright Rolf and Ranger 2021 </b></i><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"> </p><p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>tarabeth1210http://www.blogger.com/profile/14902928357845152351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3812077977994131831.post-84275175755342084562021-07-05T18:29:00.000-07:002021-07-05T18:29:49.326-07:00Oregon Way <div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;"><span style="margin: 0px; position: relative; z-index: -1895824384;"><span style="height: 276px; left: -212px; margin: 0px; position: absolute; top: -94px; width: 446px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<div align="center" style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEuBXN9PaEeweMUwZohU0b-e3BXL-d1Qidu5kaYbrBbmJett5mIwNyUllz5MZKmvaC8J7fZFzzLlOvCTsDV-ZnUd4tN3Hf2_naz5Jq0MqnrNaZtTsH3mx97t1MECZt9otiNLoEIE3Y4NI/s1600/24579981542_8d22cf87cb_b.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="580" data-original-width="1024" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEuBXN9PaEeweMUwZohU0b-e3BXL-d1Qidu5kaYbrBbmJett5mIwNyUllz5MZKmvaC8J7fZFzzLlOvCTsDV-ZnUd4tN3Hf2_naz5Jq0MqnrNaZtTsH3mx97t1MECZt9otiNLoEIE3Y4NI/s320/24579981542_8d22cf87cb_b.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #00b050; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 48pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Oregon Way</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">19<sup>th</sup>
December </span></b></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The first explosion shook
the heavy rows of pipes that surrounded the machinery on both sides. It burst
one outwards in a jet of water hard enough that it was only by grabbing the
Japanese ambassador by the collar of his jacket and yanking him back that they
both stayed on their feet. With a groan of steel giving way under pressure
another pipe burst and a second explosion echoed behind them, lighting the machinery
and the steel gantries above them with an ominous glow. Flynn had one hand
hooked around one of the steel support struts and the other arm around the
chest of the French Financial Advisory team leader, who was pale green as he fought
to find his balance. Flynn’s eyes met Dale’s in a swift, grim, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what the actual heck was that?</i> The
senior engineer abandoned the group, running back through the machine room
towards the source of the explosion. The lights went out, there was a sputter
of shorting out electrics in pitch darkness, and then emergency lighting strips
began to glow overhead. A dull emergency siren began to moan and an electronic
woman’s voice began to repeat with inappropriate normality, “Please evacuate
this area immediately. Please evacuate this area immediately.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“All right let’s go!” Jeremy Banks’ voice bellowed
from the front, sharply enough to drown it out and before any of their clients and
associated hangers on had time to panic. “Move, this way, now!” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">His rugby field roar always worked to get men moving
in the right direction whatever the context. There were thirty assorted
diplomats, highly senior financiers, government advisors and their staff here,
none of whom were used to anything more alarming than the occasional office
fire drill, but they started to unfreeze. Dale lifted his own voice to second Banks,
keeping his tone crisp and what Riley referred to as ‘iced to the balls’, which
usually did its own share of smothering panic and keeping people focused. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Gentlemen, follow the lights. Miss Keene, lead on
please.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Their young guide with the clipboard in her dampened
suit, who was looking terrified, pulled herself together and began to splash fast
after Banks. At the end of the underground room where their escape route lay,
Dale saw a brief glimpse of a figure in a long, dark coat, his hair wild in the
odd glow of the emergency lighting, his eyes intent and urgent. David. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Be
careful.</span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Oh
no kidding. </span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Now!” Banks thundered somewhere in the gloom, “Hurry
it up, let’s go! Christmas is coming faster than you!” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">It hurried them, although they were wading in several
inches of water now. The water was flooding the area quite fast, and the fact
that it was warm water was not at all reassuring. The water here cooled the gas
pipes, and as it lost pressure and ceased to do its job, this place became less
safe by the second. Dale repeated a general precis of Banks’ orders in Japanese
and then in French, steering the man he was holding up through the worst of
flow. Flynn moved with him. Exactly as they often did in synchrony at opposite
sides of the cattle herd at home, positioning themselves to gather the group before
them and drive them forward, with authority and without causing panic. Flynn’s
presence was calming and it was making the men in front of him move without
hesitation. He’d been steadying them all day, as skilfully as he did with both men
and stock, at times with a quiet social chat with one of them, and at others
just using his stance at the side of meetings or around the coffee pots during
the breaks. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">There was another ominous metal groan and then a loud
bang as another pipe blew. From the smell, this one was one of the gas pipes. The
men began to run, despite several of them being of a very inappropriate age and
level of fitness to be galloping around, never mind in semi darkness and water in
the bowels of a steelworks. Metal shrapnel whanged off the walls and the pipes.
A fresh spray of water burst out, hosing them down strongly enough that Dale
had to grab again to keep one of the men on his feet. The young woman had torn
off her high heels and was following Banks at a run up steel gantry steps. By
Dale’s estimation they were only a short way from the nearest emergency doors
to the surface. He paused to count the group at the first gantry corner,
leaning over it to look first at the men ahead of them and ensure no one had
been left behind, and then down into the well of the room below. The glow of fire
was blazing in the distance. David was standing in the rushing water, hands in
his pockets, and gave him a faint nod, although his expression was grim. Flynn’s
hands gripped Dale’s arms from behind. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Shift.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">It wasn’t a suggestion. Dale shifted, keeping his
voice detachedly innocent. “So how is this looking now in comparison with
Christmas shopping?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Despite the smoke, fire and alarms, he caught one of
Flynn’s swift, flashing grins shot at him as they sprinted up the gantry. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">With most of the staff of the shipyard gathered at the
emergency muster points while fire crews wrestled with their steelworks, there
were several hundred people milling about in the misty chill coming off the
river. The wet, shaken up members of this morning’s meeting were mostly sitting
on crates and concrete bollards, looking much less interested in the deal at
hand. On the plus side, they had also stopped fighting; fighting possibly being
a bit of an understatement. The Japanese team were long term clients who Dale
knew well, and were a highly experienced, practical and courteous group, who
vigorously disliked anything they perceived as crass and then flatly refused to
engage with it. The American team were equally well known to ANZ and were clients
of Banks, and were experienced too. They were also forthright and loud, with
several members who believed in an aggressive and ruthless approach to
achieving goals that was excessive by ANZ standards. Possibly even by Atilla
the Hun’s standards. While the French team….. were considerably out of their
depth in terms of experience and unwilling to admit it or to accept advice, had
several highly strung members with a gift for drama, needed an extremely firm
hand, a much stronger grip on reality and in Dale’s opinion, would have
benefitted from the guidance of a good paddle. The presence of the diplomats
made it still more complicated.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale, positioning himself where he could keep the main
players in clear sight and prevent any fresh battles breaking out between their
more interesting participants, blinked as Flynn’s hand, with a handkerchief in
it, pressed his forehead and Flynn’s other hand cupped the back of his head to
hold him still. Dale pulled his hand far enough away to see the blood on the
handkerchief, then let him press the handkerchief back to stop the bleeding. He
hadn’t felt whatever had scratched him, most likely a piece of the flying pipe
shrapnel, but the blood wasn’t much more than a few traces. A moment later
Flynn lifted the handkerchief to check, then let Dale take it and mop the
remainder off. Banks appeared, digging his hands into his pocket against the
freezing cold. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I just spoke to Michaelson. They got the gas and the
water turned off. There’s a couple of injuries but only minor ones, thank God. There’s
a fire still raging down there but everyone’s evacuated. They’ve no idea yet
what caused the explosion.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It came from the rod and bar mill.” Dale folded the
handkerchief precisely and pocketed it, reflecting on what he’d seen. “All we
saw was the fallout from the concussion damage. Michaelson’s going to need to
host emergency control in their admin block; I suggest we move back to the Bay hotel
and use the conference room there to resume.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Banks grimaced. “If there’s any point in resuming. The
yard’s going to be tied up in health and safety committee hearings for months
reviewing what just happened,”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Akhiro texted agreement to the proposal back to his
head office as we left the board room.” Dale turned far enough to ensure his
voice didn’t travel beyond Flynn and Banks. Banks didn’t waste time demanding
to know how he knew; it was perfectly possible to ascertain the most likely
combinations of letters and words from finger movements over a defined grid, whatever
the language it was being done in. “They’ve made the decision, they have no
remaining problems with what they’ve got and we’re done here. They just haven’t
officially said so yet.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Largely because that was how the dignified, reserved
Akhiro expressed his extreme displeasure at the behaviour of the American chief
exec and the foot stomping of the entire French team from Argeles Incorporated.
Who more or less did it in close formation. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Damnit.” Banks said wearily. “I know Akhiro’s got a
point but I don’t really want to spend another six hours here playing politics
because he doesn’t like their manners. And there is no way the Argeles team
aren’t going to use this to push like hell to reopen negotiations on the
grounds of industrial accident.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Balancing the various cultural styles, identities and
the various national interest of the different teams was always as complicated
a game in these negotiations as the actual financial implications. Dale shook
his head. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“No need for it. If you can soothe down Akhiro, I’ll
take Argeles aside and run them through the safety record, procedures and
policies and insurance record, and advise them on the likely outcomes of
today’s incident before we restart.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Advise?” Banks said dryly. “Ok. If you feel like
being screamed at in French for an hour you be my guest. Do they have any
possible grounds on the industrial accident? I know the records but I haven’t
had time to check the practice.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I have. The policies are being enacted on the ground,
I’ve talked to employees; it all matches the data.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Thank God.” Banks glanced at his watch, then at the
groups of suited men around them. “I’ll get the other teams separated and sorted
out and join you at the Bay in an hour, reschedule the full meeting to resume
at three.” Banks nodded at the graze. “You ok?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Grazed, that’s all. You?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Just damp.” Banks nodded and headed back towards the
main admin building which was currently surrounded by fire engines and
ambulances. Dale dialled rapidly for the hotel and waited for an answer, his
eyes on the water that lay beyond the dry docks and cranes, and for a moment in
the chaos there was warmth. Little Sarah was skipping there along the side of
the dock, barefoot as she always was at home, her dress and her long brown hair
floating out behind her. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">There were a few Whats that Dale thought of as
friends. They were visitors he saw regularly on the ranch, who often
acknowledged him as they passed and who seemed to make that connection with him
purely because they liked to, and Sarah had long been one of them. Inured to
David who was unbothered by place and turned up as and when he felt like it,
Dale had been less surprised than he might have been yesterday morning when he
first saw Sarah here on the dock. It appeared that those that knew him had no
difficulty in finding him whenever they chose to, or when he was doing
something interesting to them. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">She appeared to be about seven, from what little Dale knew
about children’s sizes. He knew she was one of the children whose graves were
in their woods, beside the wreckage of a wagon that had fallen from the trail. It
was one of the many wagons that had been crossing their land constantly in the
mid 1800s, and it was easy enough to guess why she should want to join him in a
Wisconsin ship yard. Dale knew the maps and the pictures from hours spent at
the Jackson Museum; plenty of pioneers had started out from territories in Wisconsin.
Sarah gave him her usual beaming smile as she passed him, and danced off to
walk by the water’s edge, confirming it. She was home. Her delight at being
here was tangible. During the couple of opportunities there had been for tours
around the shipyard yesterday, several of which were intentional cooling off
breaks from the meetings before their clients came to blows, and one of which
Dale had taken privately to speak to some of the men on duty here, he’d been
aware of several pulls, like a little hand tugging on his jacket for his
attention to come and look at the lake, and it was a rather lovely balance to
the work. He had never expected to be the friend of a rather unusual little
girl, but then his being an exec-turned-cowboy never seemed to bother Sarah. </span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">*</span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The
hotel staff leapt to help with an enthusiasm that reflected what Flynn
suspected ANZ were paying them. The limousines that swept away their shivering,
wet French delegates from the shipyard were met by uniformed staff in the
heavily yet tastefully tinselled, tree and bauble decorated foyer, armed with
towels, sympathy, trays of steaming coffees and tumblers of brandy, and promises
of rooms with the heating turned up high. Arrangements were being made to dry
and press damaged suits. Dale had several soothing conversations with some of
the more shaken up men, suggesting an hour’s break to recover before they
reassembled in the briefing room, and Flynn did what he could to help. Once the
Frenchmen were sorted out and dispatched to their rooms, Flynn and Dale headed
in the other direction towards the elevator. A room a long way from their
delegates was an essential for downtime. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale walked ahead of him into their
tenth floor suite, shouldering out of the wet wreckage of his jacket. Flynn
took it from him. “How cold are you?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Not bad.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">He looked as relaxed now as he had been
downstairs, which was also as relaxed as he had been in the midst of a major
emergency with explosions going on around him. He always rose to crisis,
effortlessly, and despite being drenched he wasn’t shivering. And for that
reason he needed watching, particularly when he was running on high. Flynn slid
a hand inside his shirt and felt for himself. “You’re frozen. Get under the
shower.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale pulled his shirt off over his head,
neatly folding it and laying it down with his jacket. Flynn turned the shower
on full blast for him, starting to get out of his own wet clothes. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I am not taking Paul into this.” Dale
had said with finality to him when the emergency fax arrived around breakfast
time yesterday morning. It had been a short and to the point communication:
Jeremy Banks appealing – more or less begging - for Dale to come out to
Wisconsin in person and assist him in sorting this mess out, since no one else
capable or known to the teams was available, and an international deal of some
significance looked in danger of coming apart and creating a major diplomatic
incident. Dale had been monitoring the records of the meetings and participating
by telephone for some days trying to keep it from hitting the rocks. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Even if we weren’t this close to
Christmas, I still wouldn’t. I know these teams. This is flat out warfare in a
large industrial shipyard with nowhere else interesting to go, and it’s nasty
stuff. Sudden death with power points.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">That might be phrasing borrowed straight
from Riley, but Dale wasn’t given to exaggeration. Less than ten days from Christmas
most of their preparations were done anyway, but Dale, who did more to
practically support Paul and prepare with him for the annual family events than
the rest of them put together and cared about them every bit as much as Paul
did, had given hard thought as to whether he took this job at all. He hadn’t
wanted to. This was probably the nearest Flynn had yet seen him come to
refusing an assignment Banks had personally asked him to do. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You don’t always have to do it, you
know?” Riley pointed out while they packed with a plane on its way to the
airstrip. Somewhere out in Wisconsin, Flynn suspected Banks was reading Dale’s
return fax with relief and a large, celebratory drink that the cavalry was
coming. “You don’t always have to be the good guy and carry everyone else’s
stuff. Someone else can step up for a change and get the Christmas spirit battered
out of them.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Don’t worry, I’m going to give this forty-eight
hours, no longer.” Dale said rather grimly, and when he gave any kind of time estimation
he never meant ‘approximately’. “In and out, no one is getting battered, and there
will not be any mucking about.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Riley gave him a rather reluctant,
tugging smile. “Yeah, when you sound like that, I start thinking about coming
too, just to watch you kick ass. Don’t take long.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I won’t.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I’m still very happy to come with you
if you want, hon,” Paul had reassured him, but Flynn, reading Dale’s unspoken
expression that he knew exactly what these meetings would be like and would not
under any circumstances be exposing Paul to them, interrupted. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“No. You don’t need to be rushed off to
a freezing shipyard when half the family’s due to arrive. I’ve got it covered.”<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Only,” Riley said pointedly, “because
it gets you out of all the Christmas stuff.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Jasper, who had seen Dale’s expression
too, caught Flynn’s eye and shot him a distinctly private grin. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale had been right that the meetings
were nasty. But Flynn had watched him work with Banks before, and knew what he
was capable of. It was seamless, the two of them knew each other well and if
you knew what they were doing and how they worked together it was entertaining
to watch them playing bad cop and badder cop. Banks could out roar and out table
thump the loudest of the American team when necessary, the man had an energy
that could hold the room without effort. Dale in balance, never raised his
voice, never failed to be precisely polite and to the point, and could have ice in
his eyes if he was mildly irritated. His presence more or less reached out and
whacked you around the head even if you knew him well. These men didn’t, and
they were according him a whole lot of respect. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">At one time, he would have been doing
this unconsciously. These days he had more understanding of how people worked. Flynn
noticed with some amusement Dale using James’ habit of giving someone doing
something questionable a slow, assessing stare that stopped pretty much every
family brat in his tracks, and the stance Jasper used to communicate to Dale or
Riley that he was there, watching, and did not approve of whatever it was they
were doing. Both worked well on diplomats and executives. And yet he froze down
any attempts to snipe or to harshen the tone of the debate, not allowing it to
get out of hand. There was a protectiveness at work here too. It reminded Flynn
of watching Dale lean on the table in the kitchen a couple of Christmasses
back, the first time he’d informed the other brats with the same intensity he
had here that it was time to stop fighting, get it together and sort things out,
except at home with them he did it from the heart, with all of him and without his
safety catch on. Banks muttered to Flynn by the coffee pot on the first day, “I
don’t know what you lot feed him on that ranch, if it’s all the beef and fresh
air, but he moves these deals forward like a bat out of hell.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">He was in many ways an exceptional man. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">In the shower, Flynn turned Dale to face
him and took another look at the graze on his forehead. Neat, small, nothing
much to see, and there were no other apparent marks on him from any other
shrapnel pieces. Despite their experience this morning, and Paul would have
probably added darkly because of it when it came to their adrenaline addict, Dale’s
eyes were alive. He was energised the way Flynn had always seen it: like a kid
playing a computer game, and it was deeply, powerfully appealing in a way Dale
had no concept of. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“That was most likely a pipe meltdown,”
Dale said reflectively, moving back so Flynn could get deeper under the hot
spray. Flynn pressed gently around the edge of the graze. It didn’t look like
it was going to bruise. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Does that hurt?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“No. Although it won’t be one factor,
it’s inevitably a perfect storm of circumstances. Their last recorded accident
was five years ago, and that and every other accident over the past twenty-four
years have been minor falls, no breaches of inspection or regulation.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">And he’d checked that out thoroughly
since they’d been here, Flynn had watched him do it in exactly the way he did
everywhere they went; watching, talking to people as they worked, quiet and unassuming
while internally he sucked in data like an industrial vacuum cleaner. People
and information; Dale drew in everything available to him about both. Flynn
ducked his head under the spray to soak his hair, ran it off his face with both
hands and reached for Dale, drawing him close. “How are you going to handle
Argeles?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale’s hands measured his hips. “How
would you handle them? If you’re going to write that paper.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The things you talked about in bed late
at night when you’d spent the day watching three groups of men fight in three
different languages…. Flynn smiled. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Not in any way Riley would approve of. I’m
not sure observations on the stress responses of executives in negotiations is going
to do much in brokering a deal.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I saw you watching Jean-Luc. The tall
one with glasses. His pulse jumps in his neck about fifteen seconds before he loses it.
He did it three times this morning that I noticed.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“The veins in his hand swell too, you
can see the adrenaline shoot.” Flynn said reflectively. “He’s also the one that
the two Americans with the beards use to wind Akhiro up. Push his buttons and
he explodes on cue.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“He’s the new member of the French team,
they promoted him from one of their scouting teams a few months back.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Ah.” Flynn said with comprehension.
“Least experience, most to prove.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“And the most forceful voice on that
team, and the most exploitable.” Dale rinsed soap from his hair. “Victor
doesn’t have him under control and he doesn’t know when to back down. I plan on
this being a short, sharp education on why Victor needs to keep him quiet when
we get back to work this afternoon, or they’re going to make fools of
themselves.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Which will make a bigger mess of this
diplomatically.” Warmed through, Flynn turned the shower off and handed Dale a
towel. “How are you going to do it?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Firmly.” Dale said succinctly. “If
necessary I’ll get downright medieval, but we’ll try the polite way first.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Riley would really enjoy seeing him do
this. “Are you still thinking this is going to finish on time?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Yes.” Dale wiped his face and wrapped
the towel around his waist, going in search of a fresh suit. There was a pot of
coffee and cups put out on the table alongside a plate of pastries; room
service had been busy. Dale poured a cup as he passed, knocking back the
contents then refilling the cup and taking it with him to search the closet. “We
are going to be out of here by three pm and home tonight.” From his tone, he
intended to walk through walls to achieve it if necessary. “If Akhiro’s
accepted, then we’re finished. There is not going to be game playing, it’s only
signing and witnessing papers.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Enough coffee.” Flynn relieved him of
the cup. “Slow down, get yourself a juice from the fridge and eat one of those
rolls.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Yes sir.” Dale took a roll and went to
the fridge in the corner of the room. He paused beside it for a moment, and
Flynn, taking the opportunity to put the coffee back in the pot, saw him
looking out of the window with an expression Flynn recognised. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Who? Your little girl again?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Sarah.” Dale smiled faintly at whatever
he was watching. “Yes. She’s down there playing on the grass.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">*</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Just get on with it</i>, Riley had urged on
the phone last night. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Stuff to do here.
People arriving any minute. Trees to put up. That kind of thing. </i></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Yep,
working on it. </span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Sarah
still around?</span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Yes.
I think we’re probably near her home. </span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Seriously?
Wow. Have you got time to go look with her? </span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Possibly. If a spare hour could be found between tying
up this deal in such a way that none of the parties involved could pull on
loose ends, and in getting home at a reasonable hour, then it was very tempting.
But there was stuff to do at home. Lots of stuff to do. Rooms to prepare,
probably people to collect from airports depending on the state of the roads,
and Flynn had caught him surfing his blackberry earlier looking at weather and
traffic reports around Jackson and figuring out the best routes when he should
really have been listening to a group of diplomats quarrelling. Not that Flynn
had complained about it; from the private glint in his eye he had understood
and thought it was a very healthy distraction. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">With just the Argeles team in the room they could
conduct the meeting in French, which eased the issues with translation and semantic
understanding, and there was only one set of cultural styles to keep in mind.
Dale took them through the safety record, policies and procedures too fast to
allow for much arguing, which wasn’t difficult since they had no real grounds
to doubt them or to protest, and most of what they wanted to do, in plain
terms, was be bloody awkward. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Banks sat quietly at the back, letting him get on with
it. On the far right side of the desk Flynn was also listening, and more than
that, he was watching the clients. Dale could see him letting the language flow
over him while he took in faces and postures. He’d commented more than once
about there being enough material for a conference in what went on in these
meetings; he got these board room participants at a deep level with a wry
compassion and an insight that helped Dale a great deal. He also had a knack of
being present in a way that meant while he was never a distraction, the same
way he never made anything harder, you also never for a moment forgot you had
him here or forgot the sheer security he held with him. Paul was easy company when
they were away together, and kept a strongly domestic feel around whatever they
did, as if they were on vacation instead of working. It was a pleasure to share
the sights or events of whatever was going on in the vicinity together in the
evenings or their free time, and while Paul didn’t let much slide, it was all in
his usual relaxed way. Flynn had a very firm hand indeed away from home, and a
way of keeping work corralled behind a number of far more enticing things to do
with him. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale flashed up another couple of graphs and found himself
for the second time running his hand over his eyes. The light above the desk
had an unpleasant flicker to it and the glare off the screen made it difficult
to read. The following two slides were, if anything, worse. Too much time
staring at screens and under electric light; he wasn’t used to it any more. Very
much looking forward to being home tonight where the air was clearer and the
view stretched all the way to the horizon, Dale carried on. Another brief,
discreet rub at his eyes didn’t help. Near to turning the light off and getting
rid of the issue altogether, he pulled up the next set of charts, and glanced
briefly down at the folder of data open on the table. It took a moment to
realise he couldn’t read a word of it. He couldn’t even see the titles. The
table was equally blurred. And when he looked back at the screen, he had to
admit it. He was struggling now to make out anything on the white board at all.
It was just a mass of colour and light. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Which probably shouldn’t be happening. Particularly
during a meeting. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">He detachedly felt his stomach freeze over even as he
heard his own voice continuing without pause. It wasn’t difficult; he’d seen
the material, it was always possible to visualise anything he’d read, and he
found himself putting one hand more firmly down on the desk to lean on it,
finding the cool wood somewhat reassuring. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Facts. Statistics. Probabilities. A brisk summary of
risks and interests. There was a silence after he drew the bottom line for
them. Then Victor said, rather defeatedly which made Dale realise he’d somewhat
lost control of his tone and his expression, that they would take a little time
to discuss among themselves. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">They left the room. He heard them go. Dale grasped the
desk, hearing the footfall traipse into the corridor and the door shut, then
the slop of water from a carafe into a cup and Jerry Banks’ chuckle. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Thirty eight minutes flat. Well done, that’s the first
time I’ve seen Jean-Luc lost for words.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Thirty
eight minutes, twenty four seconds. </span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Shut
up. </span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale made a careful assessment of precisely what he
could see. The blurring was worse now. There was nothing but a sea of distorted
colour, nothing near or far that was at all distinguishable. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Which
you are going to have to do something about. </span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Standing here, holding on to the desk, seemed like a
better option. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Akhiro texted, they’re here. I suggested they grab
some lunch and we meet again at two,” Banks went on. “I’ll order some coffee
and sandwiches. Want to set up the proposal on screen?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Yes, he probably could. The laptop was within reach,
he didn’t need to see the keys to remember their location, he could probably
remember the location of the file more or less…. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">How
long do you want to try faking this out? </span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">He realised, belatedly, that he was controlling a
tremor in his hand on the desk. And before he had time to think or plan or do anything
sensible, he found himself turning slightly but helplessly in Flynn’s direction.
He heard Flynn leave the chair a split second later. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Dale?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">It was his normal, level tone, the one that made any
crisis manageable, and in which he so often said, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">just tell me. Blurt it out, we’ll make sense of it later. </i></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I have a… slight problem here.” Dale said to Flynn
and the desk, aware that he was sounding flippant, which never went down well
with Flynn in moments of crisis. Dale cleared his throat and tried to pull it
together. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Jerry, I am sorry but my vision seems to have gone.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Gone how?” Banks demanded. “Are you all right?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale felt Flynn turn him by the shoulders and felt the
warmth of Flynn’s hand near his face. Nothing appeared in the blur at all. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It’s blurred. I can’t see much at all, just colours. The
knock on the head this morning may have been harder than I realised.” His voice
sounded ridiculously conversational in his own ears. “I could do most of this
from memory if you operate the presentation-”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“We’re finding a hospital, right now.” Flynn
interrupted him levelly, just ahead of Banks’ explosive, </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“For God’s sake, you’re not doing anything but getting
checked out! I’ll get you a car. What do you need?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“We’ll be fine, thanks. The car would be appreciated.”
Flynn’s arm gripped around Dale’s waist and held them hip to hip, strongly
enough that as Flynn moved around chairs and towards the door it was possible
to sense direction and walk with him. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I’ll tell the hotel to hold your room here.” There
was a click as Banks picked up the phone. “And to find you a hospital with a
decent neurology unit. Dale, go. Forget the bloody meeting, you’ve done more
than enough. Keep me posted.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">And they were in the hallway. There was the hum of an
elevator being summoned and the slide of the doors, and as soon as they shut,
Flynn’s arms closed around him. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Listen to me. Any headache? Nauseous?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Nothing.” Against Flynn’s chest Dale pulled himself
together, running through the information he had. “It hasn’t felt like
concussion. I don’t think I’m confused or incoherent. Although since that was
all in French, it seems a bit unfair to ask you to judge; I could have been
reciting the French National Anthem for all either of us know-”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Breathe.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Aware that he was sounding increasingly frivolous and that
it really wasn’t good, Dale felt Flynn put him back and Flynn’s forehead rested
lightly against his, Flynn’s hands on his hips and Flynn’s breath on his face.
That helped. That really helped. Almost automatically he found himself letting
go, letting his shoulders drop and breathing in time with Flynn. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Banks said you were straight to the point.” Flynn said
quietly against him. “You were fine in the shower and you’re making sense now.
Your balance is normal. I don’t think there’s been anything we’ve missed. You’re
ok.” Flynn’s head tipped against his to kiss him, gently but firmly. “You are
going to be ok. Nothing is going to happen that we can’t handle.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">His conviction was as deeply comforting as his arms. Flynn’s
hand cupped the back of his head, stroking there. It distracted from the faint
throb of the graze on his forehead. A very minor graze, it had been barely
visible once he’d showered. Whatever had struck him there obviously hadn’t
struck that hard. And yet a light tap in the right place could cause remarkable
amounts of damage to various neurological functions. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale’s brain would have helpfully lined up and trotted
out all the information he had on the subject, save for Flynn going on talking
steadily and definitely in ways that required answers as he steered them out
through the front door to a waiting car. He kept it up all through the very
bizarre experience of travelling through a city without seeing any of it. Questions
about the safety records of the shipyard. The history of the ship yard. Where
the root of such safety procedures came from and how they related to the
equipment. It was, damnit, stuff Dale was slightly obsessively interested in;
the history and how stuff worked was something he hoovered up and had done all
his life, and sitting hand in hand with Flynn he couldn’t resist letting the
information flow. The driver must have been somewhat surprised by the discussion
on the evolution of modern steel production. Since Flynn didn’t let him get a
word in edgewise, it was hard to tell. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">He had never in his life walked into any ER as a
patient. It was an experience he could have lived without. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">They were taken somewhere almost immediately where he
was requested to lay down in a tone that suggested professional disapproval of
someone with a probable head injury wandering about. Flynn kept hold of him all
the time he was reeling off personal data to someone registering him onto a
form, and someone else shone lights near his face and asked a lot of questions
about this morning’s explosion with at least two additional people in the
vicinity who seemed to be involved. There was a brief suggestion from someone
that Flynn might like to wait outside. Dale sternly suppressed the swell of
panic a second before he heard Flynn’s reply; it was a perfectly friendly <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">no thank you,</i> and yet said in a tone
that meant it would take someone very stupid to argue with him. Frankly it was
the kind of no they could have used this morning around the French delegates. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">With
a paddle. </span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">I
may be slightly hysterical at this point. </span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Help was offered to undress. Dale would have selected freely
from comments such as: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">thank you, that
will be happening over my cold, dead body </i>and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did I mention the issue was my head, so there is no need whatsoever to
take any clothes off</i>. However Flynn asked them politely for a moment of
privacy, and thank God, they all went away. Holding on to the chill metal side
of whatever it was they’d sat him on, Dale felt Flynn put both hands heavily on
his shoulders, leaning there for a moment with weight that squashed out some of
the tension. Then he pulled Dale’s tie loose and stood him up to help him out
of the jacket in a way that said he would be getting undressed now and it
wasn’t up for discussion. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“This is a side room, about twelve feet square. Mostly
enclosed by glass. I think we’re going to find you’re seen quickly, they’ll
want to keep you still and take all the precautions. Any headache now?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Nothing at all, just the blur.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Any better? Any worse?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale moved, somewhat unwillingly, to let Flynn take his
shirt off. “Exactly the same.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It’s ok.” Flynn sounded quiet and focused. “I want
you to think about what Jas would say. This place is full of people and
clutter. You’ve been around hyped up people all day. Ground and centre
yourself, shield yourself. You don’t need to be carrying anyone else’s stuff
around.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You were quite a sensible scientist when I met you.”
Dale pointed out. Flynn stood him up to help him out of his pants. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Breathe, and do it now.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn was right; public places like this were always
full of people’s leftover stress and distress. The stale energy lingering could
feel like trying to swim through glue, and it built up slowly and
subconsciously. Dale often didn’t realise until he stopped and thought about
it, what was his own feelings and what was energy attracted and carried around
like particularly heavy bits of lint. He was aware of feeling distinctly less
heavy and jangled when it was done, and more acutely aware of a feeling of
really, seriously not wanting to be here, which was very much all his own. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The giggle somewhere on the far side of the room
startled him. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">He recognised it almost immediately, not least because
he knew it well. Sarah seemed to be finding an ER room as amusing as she
appeared to enjoy the banks of the lake. It was distracting to consider what on
earth a pioneer child was making of a modern hospital, and actually rather
comforting to know she was still around. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">There was some kind of cotton garment, which was
supposedly clothing but covered nothing of any purpose, and without which
apparently American hospitals failed to feel they could function. A brief
evaluation of its structure, which he had to do with his hands, confirmed a
rather grim suspicion that its main purpose was the speed with which it could
be removed in a crisis. There were more people; considerably more poking and
prodding; and questions which were exasperatingly repetitive until the urge
became nearly over powering to suggest that he wrote down and signed a declaration
to the effect that he was well aware of his date of birth, the year, the
current president and was experiencing no issues with his memory or orientation.
That was followed by a CT scan which was the one time that Flynn physically let
him go. He was there all the time. Every second Dale knew exactly where he was,
and the man radiated calm. From his reactions, what was happening was normal, routine
and exactly as he expected, and nothing worth being concerned about. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The scan was possibly the worst part of the day so
far. The isolation should have come as a welcome break. In the humming of the
machine, seeing nothing but a haze of white and grey, Dale lay on the hard
table and felt the shaking in his hands again. It was pathetic. Flynn was merely
feet away from him on the other side of the door.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“The mine was scarier.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">David’s familiar voice never exactly came externally,
and he’d never welcomed it more. Dale shut his eyes, smothering the grim laugh
that burst out before he moved more than the scan technicians appreciated. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“In your opinion.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Less deep pits. Less dark. In and out the same way.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Less snakes.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">David snorted. “This is Wisconsin, don’t bet on it.”
There was a loud click from the machine and the humming went up a notch. Dale
felt the pressure of a hand wrapped briefly around his own. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I’m not enjoying this.” Dale admitted to him. The
hand on his squeezed. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You’re not badly hurt, this seems worse than it is.
You’ve got it.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The machine clicked off, the door opened and the
sensation of David’s hand faded, but knowing he was there made it considerably
more bearable. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Whoever it was that came to speak to them after the
scan was male, slightly more than five foot eleven, wore an aftershave that was
marketed on the third unit, shelf number four, six spaces to the left in the
toiletries aisle of the drugstore Paul preferred to shop in, and had a Maine
accent. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“The scans are clear,” was the most relevant part of
what they said. “No bleeds, everything looking exactly as it should. The
blurred vision is most likely a concussion.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“We’re about twelve hundred miles from home and we had
a flight standing by for tomorrow or the day after,” Flynn said. He’d done most
of the talking and asked all the questions, and the assertiveness of it was as unmistakable
as the tone; Dale had known enough Tops now to recognise it. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He is mine, and this will be done right</i>.
This was probably neither the time nor the place to be appreciating his possessiveness
quite this much. The medic’s answer was prompt and unhelpfully cheerful. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“No, sorry. I don’t recommend you fly for at least a
week. A concussion is still a brain injury, you don’t need the air pressure
making it worse.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">That
is ridiculous. </span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The medic patted his arm, which was probably well intentioned.
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“The best thing you can do is rest. Do as little as
possible and wait. I’m going to admit you, we’ll keep you under observation
overnight and see how you’re doing in the morning.”<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You cannot stay in this city for a week, waiting for
me to be able to fly.” Dale said flatly as soon as the medic removed himself. Flynn
stooped over him and Dale felt Flynn’s mouth close briefly and very gently on
his.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Flynn, you are <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i>
spending Christmas in a hotel.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I’ll let you know what we are going to do.” Flynn
said with finality. “Whatever I decide, we will manage and we’ll be doing it
together.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">It was his most blunt, chauvinistic, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I have spoken</i> tone of voice. Which
helped. Dale shut his eyes, aware that it was not done to cling to one’s bloody
minded partner in a public place. Flynn put an arm around him, pulled him over and
hugged him anyway, bone crushingly hard, his head heavy against Dale’s. He
could transmit so much comfort. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“The harder job will be preventing half the household
coming out here to join us. We need to call home and let them know what’s going
on.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale felt him pull out the phone, heard him dial with
his stomach twisting even harder. Paul’s voice answered, so normal in this
ridiculous place that it made his throat clench painfully. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Falls Chance Ranch.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It’s me. We’ve got a bit of a problem. The steelworks
we were at this morning had a meltdown and a pipe blew. Dale caught a bit of
the shrapnel in the forehead. He’s only grazed, it’s minor but his vision’s
blurred.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“What?” Paul sounded sharply interrogative more than
horrified. “Where are you?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“At the hospital. He’s been scanned, there’s no bleed
or damage, he’s fine.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Is he ok? Is he there?” <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale felt for the phone, taking it from Flynn. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Hi.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Don’t you hi me, are you all right darling?” Paul’s
voice was warm and demanding and so very normal. “What are you doing standing
around exploding pipes?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“The rod and bar mill blew up. I’m fine, the world’s
just a little blurry right now.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“How blurry? Can you see objects? Is it near? Far?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It’s…. pretty much everything.” Dale admitted,
somewhat unwillingly. “I can’t make out anything much, there’s just a mess of
colour. There’s barely a scratch, whatever it was hardly touched me.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Ok, that happens.” Paul sounded reassuringly normal
about it, and Paul was the one of them who had seen fishermen with appalling
head injuries and any amount of neighbours kicked by stock, fallen off roofs
and ladders and rolled in farm equipment; he knew. “Are they keeping you in
overnight?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Observation. Apparently.” Dale swallowed, not sure
how to explain. Flynn took the phone back from him. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“He’s upset that they’ve advised we don’t fly. They
think for at least a week.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">I
am not upset. Thank you. </span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Honey, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I</i>
won’t let you fly, I don’t care what they say.” Paul sounded emphatic on that.
“That’s the last thing we’re going to risk with a head injury. Planning to get
home isn’t something we worry about tonight, let’s take this one step at a
time. I can get a flight out and be with you by tomorrow morning-”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“No.” Dale said as calmly as he could. “I’m not
dragging you out of the house too, this does not need to disorganise everyone’s
plans. We will be home as soon as I can arrange it and it will be fine”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You’re not arranging anything, and you’re not bossing
me or anyone else. Put the universe down and step away.” Paul said firmly. “Sweetheart,
it’s ok. Luath and Darcy arrived this morning. They and Jas and Riley can handle
the stock, operate the stove and find the pantry, they’re all perfectly
competent and if you’re dealing with this then I need to be with you.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">No</i>. I mean
it-”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“We’re fine for now.” Flynn interrupted. “Paul, I’ll
give you a call later. Right now they want him to rest and stay as quiet as
possible.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“So having a fight with the brat is probably not a
great idea?” Dale demanded, losing all patience. “Is that what you’re telling
him? The brat is perfectly competent to get a grip. Thank you. So very kindly.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“The brat needs to remember his place before I put him
there. Starting with across my knee.” Flynn said bluntly. Dale snorted. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“With a concussion. Come off it. You won’t, and I know
you won’t.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“How much do you want to find out?” Flynn’s voice went
deeper, in a way that went directly to and gripped some of the most sensitive
places in him at gut level. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Line,
here. I am still me, you are still you. I have still got you. </span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Oh sweetie, let me get that for you.” Paul said with way
too much compassion. “Paul, I can’t see a thing, I’m frustrated out of my mind,
I cannot get my head out of the meeting I walked out of in the middle which I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hate</i>, I don’t know what’s going to
happen and if I let myself stop long enough to think I’m going to be scared. So
all I want is for all this mucking about to stop and to come home.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">They were a lethal team. Throat clenching, Dale felt Flynn’s
hand cup around his head and the very hard kiss Flynn pressed into his hair. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“When I decide what we’re going to do, you’ll be the
first to know. Settle down.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Hold that thought, get some rest and call me when you
can.” Paul said firmly. “I love you, both of you. Dale, if you make any
hospital staff cry, you’ll be in trouble. Behave.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I am <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i>
that bad.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I can hear the glaring from here.” Paul retorted.
“Behave yourself sweetheart, it’s going to be ok. I’m here and I’ll talk to you
later.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn took the phone. Dale heard the click of the call
terminated and Flynn reaching to his pocket.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“There’s a text on your phone from Banks asking how
you’re doing.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I need to let him know I won’t be back to the
meeting.” Still curled against Flynn, Dale drew up his knees and ran his hands
over his face. It didn’t clear his vision any and his hands weren’t steady.
Flynn tapped his hip where his fingers rested. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Listen. If we agree you finish the meeting by
conference call, you promise me you do it laying still, without letting Argeles
get out of hand, and you keep it as short as possible. Deal?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale dropped his hands, startled. “Are you serious?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Deal?” Flynn repeated. Staggered, Dale made a sign of
the cross over his heart. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Yes sir.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Give me the number.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Banks answered within a couple of rings. “Any news?
How are you doing?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Irrelevant. Dale leaned an elbow on his knees,
listening behind Banks for whatever was going on in the conference room. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I’m fine, just concussed. Apparently. Jerry I’m stuck
here overnight, but if there’s anything left I can do then put me on conference
call.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Are you fit to do it?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“If we can do it fast and without bickering I’d
appreciate it, but yes.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Without hesitation Banks hit the switch, Dale heard
the line change and heard Banks’ voice, short and sharp. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Aden’s on conference call. The man’s talking from a
hospital bed so I’m calling time on this. Let’s hear a position from each team,
right now.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Very good place to start. Metaphorically speaking,
Dale clicked down his visor, pulled on his gauntlets and walked with some
relief back into battle. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Since he couldn’t see anything he could make sense of,
and being moved around the building when you had no idea where you were, where
you were going or what it looked like anyway was a tedious business, he took
very little notice of the next hour and focused entirely on the phone. He was
vaguely aware of being helped across to what felt like a bed, which was
slightly more comfortable than whatever had been laying on, and aware at one
point of a glass of water arriving in his hand which he drank. Nothing much
else was relevant, and it wasn’t until the meeting was successfully wrapped up,
he was filled with the satisfaction of a complex problem properly solved and he
finally ended the call that he realised the room was still and quiet, and Flynn
was sitting on the bed beside him. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn took the phone. “Happy with that?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Guilty that he’d lost all sense of time and place
including Flynn as anything more than background while he jousted with other multi-national,
behaviourally challenged game players, Dale pulled his head together. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Sorry, you must be so bored. It’s tied up, I’m relatively
happy. They’ve all signed, they’re headed home, it hasn’t caused a diplomatic
incident and I’m convinced that it won’t come apart by new year.” He put his
hands down to the covers that had been put over him. Stiff sheets and blankets.
Flynn’s leg was warm against his on the other side of the covers, a solid and
immoveable weight, and it had been there a long time. This was such a stupid
situation to be in. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“The call button’s here.” Flynn guided his hand to the
switch on his left. “It’s a single room. Third floor, bathroom on the far right
corner of the back wall, window on your left side. Can you see any of it?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Not even a change in the light to suggest the
direction. Just one blurred mess of colour. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Nothing.” Dale admitted. “No edges to anything.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">He heard the shut-down signal as Flynn turned his
phone off, Flynn’s arm came around his shoulders to lean him forward and put
the pillows flat, and he heard the thump of Flynn punching them back to shape. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Lay back, get comfortable.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">In a strange place, in the middle of nowhere, when
they ought at this moment to be getting on a flight that would mean being home
in a few hours. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“What time is it?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“About four.” Flynn shook the covers over him and Dale
felt Flynn’s palm run over his cheek. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">James and Niall were planning to arrive the day after
tomorrow. Their room wasn’t yet ready, it had been on Dale’s list to do when
they got home. The shower head needed replacing in the attic where Theo and
Bear best liked to sleep, and while Bear tended to focus in on and fix any
plumbing, electric, carpentry or any other basic repair job that needed doing
on the ranch any time he was around it was a matter of pride to Dale that as
much as possible faults were fixed and managed before Bear found them. Riley
had wanted to tar the back of the winter shelter, the last chance they would
have before it got pressed into emergency use as the weather got really heavy,
and the oil needed checking and changing in both tractors. He and Jasper were
half way through putting up a new shelving rack in the garage, something they
were doing in odds and ends through the evenings. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It’s approximately nineteen hours by car home,” Dale
said out loud. “Depending on the route we take and whether there’s snow on the
roads. I can organise a relay of drivers, we’d be home by early-”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The bed creaked as Flynn lay down beside him, and Dale
turned thankfully over into Flynn’s arms. One of Flynn’s legs hooked over his, heavily
pinning him down, and Flynn’s hand found its way under the covers and past the
ridiculously inadequate gown to rub slowly and deeply over his back. Body to
body with him, his face against the familiar plane of Flynn’s chest, Dale took
a long breath and felt his head start to slow down. With the meeting concluded
he felt – done. It was never easy to leave anything unfinished without it
eating at him like acid. Which Flynn understood, the way he always understood,
the way he and Paul and Jasper always got this delicate tightrope balance of
power when he worked, wholly unencumbered by it. Telling them just how much he
appreciated it was always more than he had the words for. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“The best way,” Flynn said in his ear, “to repair this,
is to let your brain rest. So I want you to clear your mind now. It’s ok, kid. I’ve
got you. I’ll handle whatever needs handling. Stop for a while.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale shut his eyes, forehead against Flynn’s chest. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I am so sorry about this.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Stop.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Please don’t worry.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn made the deep, quiet sound he made when a horse
was getting restless. “Stop.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">*</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Banks arrived
around half past seven that evening. Flynn hadn’t turned the light on. The nurse
coming regularly to check on Dale didn’t need it and from her first smile and
signal to him not to get up she had been more interested in Dale resting than in
propriety. When Banks tapped at the door Flynn slid away from Dale, clicked the
side rail softly up on the bed and went into the hallway to meet him. Banks
looked anxious at the sight of the dark room. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“He sounded fine earlier, is it that
bad?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“No, he’s just asleep. The scans are
clear and we’ll probably be free to go in the morning.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Still in his suit from this morning’s
meeting, Banks took another grim glance through the door. “I heard from his PA
when she stood your flight home down. What are you two going to do stuck out
here if he can’t fly? I’ll stay, of course, and the hotel has your rooms held
for as long as you need them,”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn shook his head, appreciating the
gesture. “No. That’s kind, but there’s no need for you to stay, Jerry. As soon
as they clear him to travel we’ll make our plans.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Banks gave him a wry look. They’d known
each other for a few years, from Banks’ own nephew visiting the ranch in the
days before Dale, and Banks eventually clapped a hand on Flynn’s shoulder,
sighing. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I know. I know. You like us to get the
hell out of your way when you’ve got a man down. All right. I’ll take my flight
out, but his PA is on stand by and she’s a bloody marvel, and so is mine, and both
of them can always get hold of me. Any time, anything you need, you let me
know.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Thanks.” Flynn shook the hand Banks
offered, Banks cast a quick look again through the door, and left. Flynn closed
the door to Dale’s room softly behind him and leaned on the bed rail, watching
Dale’s face. He was half curled on his side, laying too still, a little too
pale. Dale didn’t stir when Flynn pulled the covers straight over him or
smoothed back dark hair that had slipped down over his forehead. Flynn pulled
out his phone and sat on the windowsill. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">It was answered within two rings by
Jasper’s voice, calm and even. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Falls Chance Ranch.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Hey.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">From the change in sound, Jasper was moving
rapidly somewhere quieter. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Hey. How are you doing?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“We’re on calmer water.” Flynn leaned
back against the window frame, eyes on Dale. “He’s asleep. They gave him
something heavy enough to knock him out about an hour ago. They’re hoping he’ll
sleep off whatever’s going on.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“How was he feeling?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Other than the blurred vision, physically
fine. He’s never been disoriented or unsteady, no headache, no dizziness, his
attention’s fine, there’s nothing else showing up at all. The ophthalmology
department cleared him for any eye injuries and the head and neck scans are
clear. No fractures, no bleeds, no swelling, nothing. They ran the scans past
several people, including the head of their department to be sure, and they’re
talking about repeating the tests in the morning to check that nothing’s in the
process of developing, but right now they can’t find anything to worry about.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“How worried are you?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Jasper knew him well. Flynn sighed,
since this was a man he never needed to edit for and always knew when he was
lying anyway.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I understood a lot of what the
neurologist was looking for in the physical exam. His muscle control, reflexes,
everything was as it should be. They’re checking him every hour and his eyes
are reacting as they should. I think he’s ok. Eye control is spread all through
the brain, chaotic processing comes with it trying to deal with being shaken
around from a blow. The concussion cascade, excessive transmitter release,
impaired neurotransmission, imbalance of chemistry across cell membranes-”
Aware that he was now somewhat blurredly reciting what he could of the textbooks
and papers he’d been pulling to mind for the last few hours, and that it was
mostly for his own comfort, Flynn made himself stop. “It’s known everything
goes temporarily screwy and then gradually settles again. I think he got hit
harder than he realised. He was high on adrenaline at the time.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“So it’s just a case of how long it
takes to settle.” Jasper finished for him. “Do you want one of us out there
with you? Or, Riley’s plan, if you’re going to be stuck in a hotel out there,
we all come join you.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“No. Riley would be like a cat on hot
bricks in here.” Flynn said shortly. “I’ve got one brat doing the ‘I’m fine
let’s get out of here’ act; I don’t need two of them at it.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Paul or I can get out there by morning.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You’re offering to fly?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“If you need it.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Yes. Dale was one of the very few people
Jasper might be willing to take his first step onto a plane for. Flynn shook
his head. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“No. Dale doesn’t need the guilt that
he’s made you get on a plane or Paul leave the house at a bad time either.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“We never let him get away with that,
and if Paul or I just turn up then there isn’t much left for him to worry
about.” Jasper pointed out. “So tell me what you’re planning.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“As soon as they clear him as fit to
drive, and I mean slowly, in stages, not the nineteen hour marathon Dale has in
mind, then I’m going to drive him back. He’ll be calmer if we’re travelling
rather than stuck in a hotel. And I don’t want him away from the house and
family over Christmas, Jas. Not if there’s any way around it.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Going to hire a car?” Jasper said
quietly. Flynn got up, pacing slowly by the window. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Yes. If anyone’s driving him in the
weather we’re going to run into in Wyoming and probably on the way, it’s going
to be me, with no one else in the car I need to worry about. And I need to be
concentrating on him and keeping him calm. A decent four by four, comfortable,
and we’ll go no more than a couple of hours at a stretch. I’ll talk to the
medics in the morning and see what they advise.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Give me a minute, I’ll open up a map.”
Jasper was climbing the stairs, Flynn could hear his footfall. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Where are Paul and Ri?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Ri took the tractor down to the home
pastures to top up the hay bales there, he needed the distraction. It’s looking
like heavy snow tonight, but the roads are well gritted. Paul’s here.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Flynn, call Caroline.” Paul took the
phone and Flynn heard the whine of the computer powering up in the background.
“Put your pride down, and if you won’t let us help than at least let her. I
mean it. You’ve got enough to do looking after Dale. She’s already called us to
say she’s waiting for instructions as soon as we know what we need, and I know her;
she’ll have thought of a whole lot of things we haven’t.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Banks said much the same thing.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“He’s right. It’s her job, we know she’s
good at it, and she has the ANZ travel contracts that don’t stop for the
holidays. If you call around locally you won’t find many places ready to loan
out cars to travel across five states this week.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Ok, ok.” Flynn thought for a moment,
leaning on the end of the bed to watch Dale. “Ok. I have no idea whether
they’ll let him go tomorrow, but I’ll talk to her about getting plans in place.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Good. Do that now while Jas finds you
routes.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Ok.” Flynn paused for a moment,
listening to the edge in Paul’s tone. “Paul. He’s sleeping, he looks and sounds
just the way he always does. I’ve seen the scans. We are ok. I am going to get
him back to you in one piece.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Sweetheart, I’ve never had any doubts
about that.” Paul said crisply. “Not ever. Now call Caroline.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">*</span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">20<sup>th</sup>
December </span></b></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Yesterday evening, after
the first round of vicious rows that passed for negotiation were done and Banks
had disappeared to his hotel in search of a stiff drink, Dale had walked with
Flynn across the yard to talk to a few of the heavily jacketed and gloved men
unloading shipping containers. And then they’d walked further on, down to one
of the massive dry docks by the water. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">It was twilight and the dry dock was deserted. The
security guards and their dogs were beginning to patrol, they paused for a
brief chat, and then it was just them and the half-built ship and the water. The
sheer size of her was shocking. Her bare metal sides hulked way above their
heads to her decks, and the dock stretched away into the distance under the dim
lighting. They walked slowly down to the end, grateful for the peace and the chance
to stretch their legs. The wind coming off the lake was icy but fresh, the mist
coming off the water was fresh and the silence was welcome. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Sarah appeared as if she’d slipped out of the air,
skipping barefoot ahead of them just slightly out of kilter with gravity. Despite
the misty twilight there was bright sun reflecting off her hair. Wherever she
was and whatever she was seeing it was a beautiful day. She’d wanted him to
come to the water’s edge and share the view with her out over the lake. She
remembered it, and in that free moment he took the indulgence of sharing it
with her. Her pleasure was contagious. It came in waves with those flashes of
sunshine and sparkle on the water, she wanted him to see and to know all about
it, and with no work left to do tonight he’d crouched there with her. In
Sarah’s head there were no cranes, no concrete docks, no chimneys and towers. The
images she shared were far simpler. Just the banks of the lake and the small
shanty fishing village she’d been born in. The prairie schooner wagons the men
were readying on the banks set their canopies like the sails on the boats, and she’d
helped with caulking their wagon beds so they would float on water. Seven
wagons were being prepared, a little fleet from their village getting ready to
voyage. She knew all the people around them but two of the wagons she felt a
proprietary pride in. They were hers and they were magnificent. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Her little presence tugged again on him now, like that
small hand on his jacket. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">She never spoke. It took so much energy to speak that
it was something only the strongest and most experienced Whats were capable of,
and in Dale’s experience with David, even they had to commit enormous effort to
it. But Sarah never had difficulty in getting her meaning across. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale stirred, opening his eyes to that appalling blur
of colours and shapes, nothing distinct or distinguishable. Her pull was clear;
he could feel her standing by the bed, her head barely higher than the sheets. He
could feel her questioning. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I can’t look at anything right now.” Dale murmured to
her apologetically. “Perhaps later. I am sorry.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Dale?” Flynn said against his hair. The room was dim
rather than dark, Flynn was spooned against his back, his arm warm and heavy
over Dale’s waist. It wasn’t the largest bed for the two of them but there was
no one more practically competent than Flynn. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It’s Sarah.” With difficulty on the narrow mattress, Dale
turned over towards him. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“She’s in here?” Flynn sounded surprised. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Keen to go back to the lake, I think. Or wondering
what we’re doing here.” Dale felt instinctively for his watch before the
purposelessness of doing so reached him. “What time is it?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Five am.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Ah. There had been someone around six pm yesterday
evening who had been bearing sleep medication that Flynn had not regarded as
optional. Dale felt the heat of Flynn’s hand above his face. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“How many fingers?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Yes,
you couldn’t ask something like ‘how is the vision?’ which would allow for a
nice, non specific but mildly positive spin to be applied; you have to go for
hard, verifiable fact. Which is ‘I can’t even see your bloody hand’. </span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale sighed, and the hand cupped his cheek instead,
the thumb tracing his cheekbone. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“All right kid. Don’t panic. They told us it might take
a few days. Does anything hurt?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“No.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn was fully dressed, Dale felt the brush of his
shirt as Flynn reached for something and a glass arrived in his hand. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It’s juice.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Flynn, why don’t you go back to the hotel? Get some
sleep that isn’t on the edge of a single bed and have a decent meal-”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn’s hand guided him to drink, kept him at it until
the glass was empty, then took the glass and Dale heard the clink of it being
set down. Then Flynn lay down and drew Dale with him, making him get
comfortable. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Go back to sleep.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The categoric <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">forget
it</i> was hard to miss. They might be in a – well, less than desirable place
was one way to put it – with no ability to see anything about it, and that was
deeply unsettling, but the deep familiarity and the comfort of Flynn’s body, Flynn’s
chest against his face, the feel of his breathing…it drowned out most of it. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">They dozed for a while. Staff appeared at intervals,
poked about and made machinery around them bleep, and went away again. The
loose connection of one of the bleeping items making it slightly off pace with
the others grated until Dale finally reached past someone in scrubs as they
fiddled with it, found the connections and located the control panel and the
loose wire, and fitted it properly back into place. The scrubs person didn’t
comment, but at least they got out of the way while he slightly irritably
rearranged the grouping of machines to a less illogical and inconvenient
configuration. After which, Flynn collected his hands and held on to them
whenever a member of staff walked into the room. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Breakfast was produced in the form of cold toast,
cereal and coffee. Dale would have refused to experiment with cereal dripping
with milk and no idea where the bowl was, but Flynn didn’t ask. He simply took
the bowl and fed it to Dale, deftly managing it with a napkin that prevented a
drop getting anywhere it shouldn’t, taking no arguments, and from him it was
bearable. They shared the toast, which at least could be eaten by hand. Flynn’s
phone bleeped once and Dale heard Flynn glance at it and then tap a reply. He
normally hated texting.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Who is it?” Dale asked him. Flynn grunted. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Now? That’s Gerry wanting to know how you are. So far
that’s him, Wade, Bear and James. Riley called late last night, and Jeremy
Banks dropped by in person.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale felt for his hand. Flynn’s fingers wrapped firmly
around his and he took a seat on the edge of the bed again, against Dale’s leg.
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">That morning seemed to go on forever. At one point
they were collected and taken down for a repeat of the CT scan, which was no
more entertaining than the first one had been. About an hour after that, a
group of medics arrived in a small herd, there was a lot of fiddling around
with charts and lights being shone at his eyes, after which one of the less
tedious of the voices finally announced that he would be more comfortable at
home and he could be discharged. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“We know flying is out of the question,” Flynn said,
“Can we travel by road if we take it gently?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“The main thing you need is rest,” the voice sounded
definite about that. “Car travel shouldn’t be a problem if you don’t get too
tired. Avoid anywhere noisy and busy, too many people and conversation; quiet
is going to help your brain settle the fastest. I’ll refer you across to the
neurology department of your home hospital, but this should clear in a few
days.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">That was considerably better than spending the next
few days in a Wisconsin hotel. As soon as the room cleared, Dale reached for Flynn’s
pocket. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Give me my phone and I’ll sort a car and drivers-”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Get Caroline, and I’ll talk to her.” Flynn
interrupted. Wary, Dale dialled, and Flynn took it from him as soon as it rang.
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Caroline? Hello, it’s Flynn again.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Again?
You were talking to Caroline last night too? </span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“We’ll go with plan A,” Flynn was saying to the phone,
“As soon as possible, if you can make the bookings – thank you, that’s ideal.
Yes, he’s just been released. Thank you, that’s much appreciated.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Plan A?” Dale demanded. Flynn sounded quiet and very
firm. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“There’s a four by four waiting outside, and I’m
driving. We’ll do a couple of hours at a time, and take it very gently,”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What?</i>
Flynn, that will take <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">days</i>-”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“We are not getting excited about this or anything
else.” Flynn’s voice made Dale realise that his voice may have risen slightly.
“Caroline went ahead and booked places along the route last night. Give the
others a ring, tell them we’ll start out as soon as you’re released and I’ll go
find out what paperwork we have to fill out to get out of here. I’m going to be
right outside and the door’s open. If you call me I’ll hear you.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The very firm kiss on the top of his head did nothing
to ease the edge off Dale’s temper. Riley answered the phone at the first ring.
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“How is he?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“’He’ is fine.” Dale said exasperatedly. “Flynn won’t
be when I get hold of him.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Are you ok? What’s happening? Can you see anything
yet?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I can see fine, it’s just blurred.” Dale calmed his
voice deliberately, not liking at all how concerned Riley sounded. “They just
said we can leave. Flynn has some ridiculous idea-”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“About coming home in stages. He and Jas figured it
out last night with a map if they said you could travel. He said you’d been
medicated, you were sound asleep except for when you were terrifying nurses.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“What?” Dale demanded, confused. Riley laughed,
although it sounded subdued. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“He said you wouldn’t remember. Nurses were checking
on you through the night, you didn’t appreciate it.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Riley, I’ll have him please.” Jasper’s voice said in
the background. Riley sighed. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Jas wants you, just a sec.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Good morning.” Jasper’s voice was infinitely soothing.
“How are you feeling?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“In urgent need of talking Flynn out of this plan,”
Dale said acidly. “If-”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Slow down.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I do not need to slow down, I’m perfectly together
thank you. We can’t take days travelling back, and the roads will be snowed
under-”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Flynn is a good driver,” Jasper interrupted him
calmly. “You know that. We picked the route around the weather. I checked on
the road conditions and I think you can. I understand you don’t want to, but
that’s a different matter.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Jas-” Dale began, mostly in protest. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“And you trust Flynn, and you trust me.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Of
course I do! </span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The thought came impatiently, in part because- </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">because he really didn’t want to have to think about
such things. Not in the way that he knew Jasper was about to make him. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">We
are stranded halfway across the states, it’s only a couple of days until
Christmas, this is a mess that requires drastic, purposeful action, which I am
good at. This is <u>not</u> the time to stand around chatting about trust! </span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">I
can’t do that this far away from you. </span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Sometimes we all get slowed down, willing or not.”
Jasper sounded calm rather than sympathetic. “You know that.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">…No.
That is not what is happening here. </span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You do know that.” Jasper said more quietly. “And you
know sometimes there are reasons why.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">No. He helped other people understand this kind of
stuff. Which made him realise the sheer stupidity of discovering that he
believed, at heart, that it was not supposed to happen when he was working. Or
away from home. Or to him. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“So it’s about finding the purpose in you slowing down
for a few days.” Jasper went on. “You were rushing around with us getting the
house ready before you left. You travelled out at high speed in an emergency, and
I heard the meetings were high stress and loud ones. You had a lot of angry
people you were trying to find agreement between. I can understand after that your
body wants a few days to take life slowly.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">No.</i> My body
is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fine</i>, thank you, and the universe
can take its higher purposes, and-”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It’s forced a stop. Hasn’t it?” Jasper pointed out. “There
is a reason. I’m not taking any risks with you by not giving your brain time to
heal. I think you’ll find Flynn won’t either.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">There were times Dale seriously missed the days he
could snort something rude and dismissive under his breath and ignore it all.
Jas could be a brick wall of immovability when he thought you needed to listen
to him. Any reason to be justifiably mad was fading fast, and all he really had
left now was a deeply pathetic whine of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I
don’t want to! </i>Which Jasper would understand but not commiserate with. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“……… Ok, so I know.” He said eventually. Very
reluctantly. “You have a point. I don’t have to like it.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“How’s that mood working for you?” Jasper’s deep voice
was tinged with amusement and it was affectionate, not mocking. Reluctantly,
Dale smiled. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It’s not working on Flynn at all.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“And it shouldn’t do, should it?” Jasper reminded him.
“So put ANZ down and start thinking. You know better than this.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“What advice did the medical staff give you, hon?”
Paul’s voice said. Jasper had obviously switched the call to conference. Dale
sighed. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Don’t do too much and this will clear in a couple of
days.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“That’s heavily edited.” Flynn said unhelpfully,
taking a seat on the bed. “They double checked the scan this morning; they’re
sure it’s clear. He needs to be quiet, rest, stay away from stimulation and
they’ll refer him over to Jackson hospital-”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“For what?” Riley said sharply. “Why are they letting
him go if he’s not ok?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I am perfectly ok and we won’t need the referral.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“And we were like this every time a medic walked into
the room, I can tell.” Paul said dryly. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“We’ve been loving every second.” Flynn agreed. “Ri, they’re
sure he’s fit to travel and he’ll feel better out of this place. A car’s
arranged, we’re going to get on the road now. We’ll call tonight and I’ll take
good care of him. Stop worrying.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn didn’t let him do a
thing. Which was deeply, deeply annoying. Caroline’s forethought and powers of
organisation had apparently extended to having their belongings at the hotel
packed up and brought over so that they were already in the car, which was
waiting in the car park downstairs. Without allowing him to help, Flynn dressed
him in the sweater, shirt and jeans that he’d brought as out of work clothing
for the evenings and for travelling. One of the nurses, having warned him that with
poor focus he may find the sunlight glare too much or that moving around in a
blur made him nauseous, supplied a pair of plastic and very dark sunglasses. She
was proven right before they reached the front door. After which, Dale mostly
kept his eyes closed. The four by four felt large, very high, quiet and the
deep, squashy passenger seat was surprisingly comfortable. Dale seriously
suspected both Flynn and Caroline’s hand at work there too. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“If the weather holds by the forecasts yesterday,”
Dale commented, visualising maps as Flynn started the engine. “Then the fastest
route-”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“No. Jas checked the weather and we’re going south, around
it. And we’re doing it steadily, not fast.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Oh my God.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The engine abruptly turned off again, Dale heard Flynn
turn in his seat and his voice was absolutely matter of fact. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Right. Level one.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Ouch.
</span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Aware that he was giving far too free a rein to the
inner brat again, and that Jasper had already reined it in once this morning…..
Dale swallowed, embarrassed and guilty. Flynn had just had two very tedious
days away from home including a horrible twenty one hours hanging around a
hospital. He’d had what sleep he could manage on the edge of a bed in a
hospital with the phone he detested using buzzing constantly; he had a twelve
hundred mile drive ahead of him in late December without help, and a partner
who was…</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Bitching,
growling, snarking -</span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn’s hand grasped his, very firmly, and his tone left
no doubt at all that he was not going to discuss this. “I know Jasper talked to
you about this. I’m going to make it very simple. You are going to be calm. You
are not going to chew, and you are not stressing this injury. At all. I’m
making your one and only job to take this trip as it comes, in a tranquil state
of mind.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“On command.” Dale muttered, half to himself, since
that was exactly what it was. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Do what
you’re told, first time of asking, with a good attitude,</i> was one of the primary
rules of the ranch. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Exactly. So settle down.” Flynn leaned over and
kissed him, which took any sting out of the words. “Put your seat back a
little. Further. Water bottle in the cup stand to your right.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The engine started again. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Working away from home was an automatic level three,
always. Level one…. meant more than ‘serious stress management required’. Beyond
even: ‘stop everything else and work, hard, on calming down’. Level one was a
total stop. Ground zero. A place where his job was to let Flynn and the others
handle life for him for a while. It was probably the level he had the greatest
love hate relationship with. And while a sharp drop, there was no denying that
it was logical under the circumstances. In practical terms it was inevitable;
he didn’t have enough vision to do anything much without Flynn’s help. But
Flynn was shifting him mentally, not practically, and that was what the levels
had been written for. Damnit. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Trying to summon an appropriately civilised tone of
voice, Dale heard the indicators and felt the car turn. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Which way are we going?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It’s a route Jasper knows.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Jasper had travelled up and down the mid states in the
days when he wrangled stock. Hitch hiking, travelling in the stock vans and
trains, walking the long roads between cities. Flynn’s hand rested on his knee,
grasping gently. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“He thought you’d be interested. Your little Sarah
should be too. I’ve seen you stand and look at the map in the museum for
minutes at a time.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Wisconsin. South. Which would mean to Iowa, then Nebraska
across to Wyoming- it hit him in a flash, with a clear image of the 3d textured
map in the museum, so strong he couldn’t believe he hadn’t realised, and for a
moment it lifted him out of chagrin.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“The Oregon trail? Seriously?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It goes right past our front door.”<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">That… put a very different complexion on the trip
ahead. It was quite a shock to think about. The very route so many people had
taken over their land, the same road they had travelled. He and Flynn would
cross the same land. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">And
I can’t see any of it.</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"> The flood of frustration swelled again
and Dale made himself quell it with a determined hand. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ok.</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Calm. Accepting. Level
one. Focus. </i></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“What’s the weather like at home?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Jasper said they were due more snow last night. We’ll
probably run into some, but the roads will be ploughed.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“So where are we headed first?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“La Crosse. We’ll stop around there and take a break,
and then head on to Fort Dodge for the night.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Many of the towns in this area had grown up from
pioneers settling, building stores to service the wagons passing through, and
wintering there. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Had this been where little Sarah’s journey had
started? Leaving the city on this road bound for the trail with her seven beautiful
wagons in its little group. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Almost instantly as he thought it, he could see it. He
felt her flood of delight as he reached for her, the basking in his attention
which almost shamed him. She deserved better. He would have tried to find a way
to share a sense of apology, but she was thinking of those wagons and the
pictures were strong, arriving so fast they muddled together into a rush of flashes.
He’d always thought he ‘saw’ images like this through his eyes. It was a
surprise to discover that while he ‘saw’ them in the place he thought of as his
eyes, with his eyes closed and no vision he could still see as clearly as
always. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The wagons were pulled by pairs of horses, the seven
canopied wagons rolling one after the other along the road, and she saw the
street from her perch high on the driving seat between her father and her mother
who held her little brother on her lap. People waved as the wagons passed by in
their line like they were royalty. People they knew shouted goodbye, except
Grandma who said nothing and waved as she watched them go with a smile and
kisses blown but with big tears rolling. There were no streets, just a dirt
track leading out of the town and onto the green prairie, and a woman had a
kitten on her knee on the porch of one of the houses they passed, a little
black and white kitten washing its face, and in the back of their wagon rocked
the wooden sideboard, creaking with the drawers tied shut, and their beds were
made up, with the same blankets from the beds in their wooden house by the
water where the chickens pecked in the yard, but tonight, and the excitement
filled her every time she thought of it, they would sleep in the wagon… </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">*</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>With
last night’s medication still heavy in his system, Dale rapidly dozed off in
the passenger seat and he slept through the morning. The roads were clear, the
traffic not too heavy and by lunchtime Flynn crossed the Mississippi and pulled
off the road into the car lot of a small and elderly diner, old and far enough out
of the way that only a few cars shared the lot and it would be quiet inside. Dale
stirred when Flynn stroked his face, Flynn saw him blink under the dark glasses
as he oriented. Whatever it was like to come to in a strange place with no way
to see, he didn’t let it show. Flynn took the glasses gently from him. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Hey. How are you doing?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Ok.” Dale instinctively ran a hand over
his eyes. “Where are we?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn covered his hand to stop him
rubbing. “Just outside La Crosse, at a diner. We’ll get some lunch and take a
break. Any headache?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“No, nothing.” Dale felt for the
seatbelt release. Flynn popped it for him. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Stay there, I’ll come get you.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I can find my way out of a car.”<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Into a car park with no idea of obstacles
or what was coming at him from any direction. No, not a chance. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“First time of asking, with a good
attitude.” Flynn said very definitely. He saw the minute sigh, but Dale
stopped. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“…Yes sir.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn found their jackets, walked around
to open his door and helped him into his coat. They ate sandwiches and chips in
the diner which were easy enough for Dale to eat with his fingers, and while it
was easy to see he wasn’t hungry, he ate what Flynn insisted on with a sincere effort
that made it difficult not to relent about the sandwich or hug him. Flynn took
him to the bathroom and helped him navigate there, picking up on the pitying
glance of another man as he passed them. He didn’t hold out much hope that Dale
missed it. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">In the car, with the seat tipped further
back and the heating turned up to take the chill out of the air, Dale rapidly
fell asleep again. It was a long, quiet day of grey road and listening to
Dale’s soft breathing as he drove, hoping the rest was helping the scrambled
signals in his brain. They pulled into Fort Dodge at five pm, and Flynn
followed the simple directions Caroline had issued him for the B&B she had
booked on their behalf. It turned out to be an elderly and rather beautiful
Victorian house, filled with lace and silk patchwork and wrought iron light
fittings, and Flynn guided Dale up to the warm room on the first floor,
following the round and middle aged landlady who unlocked the door for them. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Your assistant arranged for me to bring
dinner up to you in your room if you wanted,” she said with her eyes on Dale as
Flynn helped him take a seat on the bed. He was heavy eyed, pale and looking
tired, never a state of mind he handled well, and his shoulders were up around
his ears. “She explained you were having a difficult few days.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Please don’t put yourself to any
trouble. We can go out for something, I could do with the walk.” Dale said courteously.
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Nice try, kid. </span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You came out of hospital this morning,
we’re going nowhere.” Flynn said bluntly. “If you wouldn’t mind sorting us out
with something light we can eat here we’d be very grateful.” He added to the
landlady. “Anything will do, we’re not fussy.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“We really don’t need to be such a
nuisance.” Dale said even more politely. The woman’s eyes warmed further and
she caught Flynn’s eye with a glint of amusement that said she was someone’s mother,
she knew that tone well, and no, she wasn’t buying it either. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It’s no trouble at all. I’ll bring you
up a tray in about half an hour. There’s plenty of towels in the bathroom, let
me know if you need more pillows or blankets.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Thank you.” Flynn waited until she
closed the door, then helped Dale out of his coat and dug in the small bag he’d
brought in for night wear. Dale grimaced as Flynn helped him out of his
sweater. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I’m <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fine</i>,
I’ve been asleep all day-”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“And we’re in a strange place, and that’s
bad enough without not being able to see it or know where you are or where
anything is.” Flynn dropped the sweater over the end of the bed and sat down
beside him. “So let’s find the words. What’s scaring you the most right now?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I am not remotely scared of a boarding
house.” Dale said irritably. “I would like a bathroom if there is one here.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Be quick.” Flynn guided Dale’s hand to
the bed, helping him find his way around the brass bedstead. “It’s a large
double bed, and there’s patchwork everywhere, most of it pink, on the bed, on
the chair to your left and draped over the chest of drawers. It looks like an
explosion in a Victorian drapery. The bathroom door is here, in reach of the
bed. Sink ahead of you, bath to your left, toilet to the right.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Then I can manage from here.” Dale
located the sink and took a firm step away from him. “Thank you.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Sweet.” Flynn patted him firmly on the
seat of his jeans. “Call if you need me.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">ANZ’s finest shut the door with a firm
click that made outwardly very clear that he was a man of independence and
fraying patience who was being properly and responsibly calm, and who desired a
few moments away from unwanted, quite unnecessary and rather overbearing
attention. And that he was definitely not, in no way at all, perish the very
thought, cross his heart and hope to die, desperate for comfort or finding this
place terrifying, or anything like that. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">That was getting sorted out before they
did anything else this evening. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn spent several minutes unpacking
the few belongings they had brought, turned the bed down and opened the sash
window a little to let air into the room. It was icy outside, there would be a
hard frost tonight, but it was a habit of home that Dale had learned from him: he
needed fresh air to be able to relax and sleep. The patchwork quilt concealed
several thick blankets and the mattress was soft. For a tired, overstretched
brat in a challenging state of mind it wasn’t ideal, but it could be worse. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale found his way out of the bathroom,
groping until he found the bedstead. From the dampness of his hair, he’d made
vigorous use of the sink in a valiant attempt to wake himself up a little.
Flynn helped him out of his jeans and into the t shirt and shorts he slept in. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Lie down and get comfortable.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It really isn’t necessary, I’ve slept
all day.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“If we were at home, you wouldn’t have
been out of bed at all.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Well we’re not at home, are we? We’re days from home. It’s
nearly Christmas and we are stuck here, <u>days</u> from home. </span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Riley would have said it. Dale had a
line in leaving those words, hanging unsaid in a tone that icicles dripped off
when he was fed up enough. Flynn guided him to lie down, pulling pillows over
for him to bank himself against. “There’s your phone. Call home and let them
know where we are.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">If they’re what’s heaviest on your mind, kid, let’s go straight
there and get this out. </span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">With the detached expression to his face
that meant a good deal more than the rising irritation it looked like, Dale
stabbed rapidly at the numbers. He didn’t need to see where any of them were,
his fingers just knew the patterns. Flynn folded and put aside his clothes,
listening to the ring tone and Paul’s voice far away. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Falls Chance.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It’s us.” Dale said shortly. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You’re feeling that good about it?”
There was the creak of a kitchen chair being drawn out. “Are you at Fort Dodge
yet?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Apparently. We’re residing in a B&B
Flynn doesn’t approve of the décor of. I don’t mind it in the slightest but
then I can’t see it.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“And you’re really, really fed up,
aren’t you?” Paul’s voice was soft with sympathy. “How are you feeling honey?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I may bite the next person who asks me
that.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I wouldn’t try it.” Flynn advised him.
Paul laughed.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Well I’m in another state so I’ll risk
it. Are you tired?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I damned well shouldn’t be, I slept all
day.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“So that’s a yes then? Sweetheart,
you’re concussed.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“So people keep telling me.” Dale said
acidly. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“And that snotty tone is making you feel
better,” Paul agreed. “Ok I see the plan. Go on then honey, do the face and the
board room voice, let’s go for it and get it out of your system, I’ll help. Shall
we start with ragging on the state and work down, or the B&B décor and work
up? I don’t know much about Idaho but I’m sure the gems suck more than they’re
supposed to. And just damn the whole potato thing.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Not falling for that.” Dale said even
more shortly. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Paul’s voice was gentler, softly teasing
which usually worked well with him in this knife edge frame of mind.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“What, getting tricked into cheering up?
Or telling me you’re feeling lousy?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Since that begged the obvious point that
anyone resisting help to regulate wanted to stay mad and disconnected, Dale
wisely left it alone. Flynn, having arranged the room to avoid anything Dale
could possibly stumble over or knock himself on, sat down on the bed beside
him, put an arm around his waist and pulled Dale into his lap, wrapping him up,
phone and all, which was most of what he needed. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“What are you all doing?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I’ve been sorting rooms. Gerry and Ash called,
they’re arriving tomorrow-” Paul said it briskly. They weren’t in the habit of
tiptoeing around anything with Dale, it never helped, and Flynn caught on at
about the same time he felt Dale stiffen and sheer ice enter his tone. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“They weren’t due until Friday. So they’ve
had to change their arrangements and leave work early to help out because I’m
keeping Flynn out of action when the whole ranch is under snow and we have
stock in need of-”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">And there we go. People changing plans because of you; being the
cause of more work and inconvenience; feeling helpless, feeling a burden; </span></i><span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">… yep, that was all the rest of his major buttons now pushed. That
ended any chance of helping him down off this ledge gently. Well if they were going
to get to this sooner or later, sooner was better. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“We’ll call you back.” Flynn said to the
phone and turned it off. He tossed it out of reach and rolled Dale briskly over
on one hip towards him on his lap, clamping him strongly enough around the
shoulders to be sure his head was upright, against his shoulder and there was
no risk of jarring him. With the other hand he stripped Dale’s shorts down and Dale
yelped and started to squirm at the first few swats he landed accurately and
soundly to his bare behind. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Ok! Flynn ok, I’ll stop!” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">He sounded penitent and not at all
surprised, which said a lot. That would have been enough for Riley. Dale, when
you needed to change his gears, needed pushing hard enough to be able to let go
of whatever he was currently chewing on and to focus on you instead, and since
he didn’t plan on needing to do this again tonight, Flynn swatted him sharply
enough in the right places to ensure that Dale’s squirming got a whole lot more
animated and his voice slipped rapidly to wholehearted sincerity. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Flynn</i>
– I’m sorry, I’ll stop, I swear I’ll stop, I’m sorry-”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“What do I expect of you?” Flynn
demanded, not letting him move. The answer came immediately and with an
attitude more or less jumping up and down with a sign saying ‘would you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">please</i> look how good I am’. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“To work on staying calm.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“And if you need help?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Talk about it. Accept help to calm down
and stay connected.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“So?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale’s hands were clutching his shirt
front, his voice was shaky but a whole lot more real and he said it
immediately, “I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hate</i> that I’m making
more work for the others.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I know you do.” Flynn said just as
bluntly. “Why?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“We both <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">know</i> why,” Dale broke off, yelping as Flynn swatted him again,
soundly, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Flynn</i>! I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">know</i>. I know where it comes from, I know
why. It’s a belief that it isn’t safe to be bloody useless and be causing them
a hell of a lot more work.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Is it true?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“No. Because they’ll be fine and I’m not
personally responsible for the ranch.” Dale’s forehead pressed hard against his
chest, his voice was muffled. “Because we cover for each other, and I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">know</i>. I know the sky won’t fall if I let
them. I know it’s stupid, I just hate doing it. This was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i> what was supposed to happen. We are not supposed to be pissing
around in Iowa when there are things I need to be doing, when it’s messing up
everyone else’s plans.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Yes.” Flynn agreed quietly. “Your plans
too. This is not what you expected. Which means?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale sighed, but his voice was quieter.
“I don’t have the control over this and I don’t appreciate it. I don’t want to
be here. Which is also ridiculous because it is what it is, and we have to make
the best of it. And I need to stay calm and not let this get to me because it
doesn’t help. And I could be trying harder. I’m sorry.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“And it’s frustrating, and disorienting
and very alarming when you can’t see what’s going on.” Flynn said quietly in
his ear. “It’s a hell of a shock.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Actually no, that part’s not…” Dale
shrugged, not sure of how to find the words. “It’s temporary, it’s annoying,
that’s all. The part really bugging me is the time wasting when there’s things
to do. I know that’s ridiculous.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“No, not at all. I know you want to go
home. What are we going to do about it?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale sighed. “I need to stop fixating
and go with it.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“No, you just need to work on staying
calm. That was all I asked you to do.” Flynn ran a hand down his back. “I know
it’s not easy, I’m here and I’ll give you all the help you need, but it’s going
to happen, kid.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Because you say so.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">That was never sass with him. Dale was
giving himself permission to give in, to give up that burden and let him lead,
and Flynn didn’t misunderstand it. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You’re right. Repeat after me, ‘calm is
a choice I’m making to allow my body to heal’.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Riley would have rolled his eyes,
huffed, would have had to show some resistance. Dale simply said it after him.
Soberly and sincerely. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Calm is a choice I’m making to allow my
body to heal.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Good.” Flynn lifted him over to the
bed. “Get under the covers. I want to hear that ten times.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale slid under the covers and turned
over into his arms, and Flynn held him closely, hearing him repeat the mantra
quietly, ten times in steady succession. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The landlady knocked on the door not
long after he was done. She had a large tray on which was set another smaller
tray covered with finger sized foods, all dry and neat to eat, and Flynn saw at
one glance the thought she’d put behind it for someone with no vision. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Thank you, how very kind of you. That’s
ideal.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“If you need anything else, let me
know.” The landlady took two bottles of juice from under her arm and handed
them to him. “Goodnight, sleep well.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn heeled the door closed behind him
and put the tray down on the bed between them, guiding Dale’s hand to it. “This
is basically appetisers. Pepper, cucumber and tomatoes here, lettuce here. This
is cheese, pepper jack, brie, sharp cheddar here and blue cheese. These are
meatballs, and these are beef and horseradish roll slices.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">And light, fresh things that he usually
liked and preferred to eat, and a tray large enough that he didn’t need to
worry about dropping things. Dale stretched out on his side with Flynn and the
two of them picked through the contents of the tray. He ate quite well. The
difference to lunchtime was noticeable, and it wasn’t the tension of trying, it
was the genuine quiet and ease in his body of having let go. They were nearly
done when Flynn’s cell phone rang. Flynn picked it up, glanced at the number
and handed it to Dale. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It’s home. Looks like Paul got tired of
waiting.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale lay back, finding the speaker
button without effort. “Hey. I’m sorry, we were eating.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Riley’s voice answered, cheerful and
somewhat indignant. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Flynn didn’t spank you did he? You get
a pass, you’re injured. Make sure he knows that.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You can try telling him if you like. It
didn’t work for me.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Flynn!” Riley sounded accusing. “Tea
and chocolate! Sympathy! What is wrong with you?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I’ve got it covered halfpint.” Flynn
lifted the tray down to the floor and leaned back into the pillows beside Dale,
pulling Dale over to lay against him. “What did you do today?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Dug out the troughs for fun. And then
because I nearly froze to death doing that, I got stuck in the attic cleaning
out a room.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Is the snow any deeper?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“About two feet now.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“And how many snowmen do we have?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Only one, it’s not great snow for building
with. Any improvement on the vision?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn saw Dale hesitate, torn between
wanting to be truthful and not wanting to scare or upset him. He answered for
Dale, calmly. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Not yet. We’re working on it. He slept
most of the drive today, and he’s in bed now.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“And nothing else is wrong?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“No. No headache, his balance is good,
his memory is good. He’s all right halfpint. All ok.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Good.” Riley said firmly. “Milk it,
Dale. Milk it. Paul wants the phone.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Then hide it.” Dale said, “In the snow
somewhere.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Riley laughed. “Next time, maybe?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You’re no help.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Only because I had him by the back of
the jeans.” Paul was laughing too. Somewhere in a kitchen in Wyoming the two of
them were wrestling. “I can hear you’re feeling better.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale sighed but his voice was sincere. “I’m
sorry about snarling at you earlier. It’s hasn’t been the best day.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I bet it hasn’t. I know it’s hard. This
is only temporary sweetheart. It will pass.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“In about four days of road travel.”
Dale said heavily. “Which I’m not stressing about, honest. Please would you
tell Ash and Gerry thank you for stepping up and helping? I hope their plans
weren’t spoiled.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Nothing is spoiled hon, stop it.” Paul
said very firmly. “Gerry’s always up for any reason to get more days here, and
they wanted to help. That’s what we do, we help each other out. So let them
help you. Don’t worry about us or anything here, you’re going to be home soon
and we have it covered.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">*</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Allowed out of bed for a
bath, which Flynn supervised closely from start to finish, they went to bed
early. And to Flynn, that meant in bed, lights out, no talking, which
annoyingly meant Dale was asleep almost immediately. He stirred at some point
during the night, aware of children’s voices. Chattering, too far away to make
out the words, but there were several of them. He raised his head for a moment,
listening. It faded away as soon as he focused on it. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The sounds of the guesthouse were very different to
the ranch. The rumble of the road traffic, the sound of someone’s tv far away
on another floor. The rattle of pipes in the walls as the ancient heating
system worked. Dale felt for the bed rail, starting to slide himself very
gently out of bed not to disturb Flynn. It didn’t work. He felt Flynn reach for
the bed side light and snap it on almost the second he moved. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Need any help?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale blinked, startled. Flynn put a hand out to touch
his face. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It’s ok. Do you know where we are?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You’re right. There’s a lot of chintz.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">It took only a second for Flynn to realise what he
meant. “You can see it?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale reached for and found Flynn in the blur. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It’s blurry – very blurry – but yes, I can see
outlines. And colour blocks. That’s definitely better.” </span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">21st
December </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>It
was about the same by breakfast time, in the even chintzier dining room
downstairs. Seated at a blurred brown table with a blur of objects on the
table, with calm firmly and virtuously on his mind, Dale ate toast and fruit
rather than brave anything involving a knife and fork. They set out on the road
by nine, and Flynn turned west out of town. Driving without being able to make
sense of images at speed was not a pleasant experience. After a few minutes of
trying, Dale returned to the dark glasses and kept his eyes closed. Flynn
wasn’t encouraging chat either. Something about resting. With nothing to look
at and no possibility of talking, Dale surrendered and dozed some more through
the morning. It was about three hours before Flynn put a hand over to his knee
and roused him. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“This is Council Bluffs. Isn’t this the official trail
jumping on point?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It’s one of them. One of the big ones.” Dale
straightened up in his seat, stretching. The museum in Jackson held plenty of
information on the trail, some of which were in their archive documents he’d
spent some time poring over on spare afternoons, and this was a place he’d read
about. “This was a big supply town. And the gathering point.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“For what? Wagon trains collecting?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Yes, but mostly they were wintering here or gathering
waiting. Until the grass was long enough to feed stock, they couldn’t start out
on the trail or the animals starved on the way. What does it look like?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn made a non committal sound. “I hate to tell you
kid; it looks most like any other city around here. And frosty.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale had felt and heard the frost being scraped from
the car this morning before they set out; it was a crisp, sharp day although a
bright one. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“This is the main street by the look of it,” Flynn was
slowing and a moment later Dale felt the car being parked. “The shop fronts
here look a lot like Jackson. Big, square, lots of canopies. Want to walk up
the street and find something to eat?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You’re actually going to let me walk somewhere?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I might if you watch that mouth.” Flynn leaned over
him, unfastening his seat belt. “Stay there and wait for me; your door opens
out onto the road and it’s busy.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The vague shape and colour of cars passing by was visible
as Flynn guided him around their car to the sidewalk. More vague shapes of
people were distinguishable in the blur, as was the general outline of shops.
Flynn helped him into his coat and put a hand through his arm, walking slower
than he usually did, and Dale was aware Flynn had positioned him so that he
walked between the shop fronts and walls and Flynn, sheltered from the people
passing them by. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">A large green canopy and the smell of coffee, a larger
red blur and the shine of sun off a shop window- and abruptly Dale saw Sarah
through the blur, burst out of the air ahead of him and run up the street. It
was a skipping, dancing run, her excitement whirled around her, and the blur
and the coffee smell was gone. Dale froze, unable to help it. Flynn’s arm
closed around his waist, his voice was calm and even, which didn’t go with the
worry Dale could feel pouring off him. “All right. It’s all right. What’s
happening?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">But the street was gone. There was mud. Thick, brown,
deep mud. Maybe twelve feet wide and stretching all the way through the town to
where the open grass land started. Grass covered the far side of the road and
the grass was dotted thickly with tents and wagons and carts. Small fires
smoked near the wagons, the smell of wood smoke, bacon and coffee hung in the
air – a harsher, sharper coffee than from the coffee shops – and a line of
wooden fronted shops stood on their right, behind a wooden veranda sheltering
people from the muddy road. Children sat on the edge of it, their bare feet
swinging. Wagons were outside the stores, a long line of wagons, and people
were heaving sacks and barrels into them. More carts and wagons made their
heavy way through the mud, pulled by teams of oxen. In one uncanopied wagon, a
man sat in a chair on the wagon bed while a barber cut his hair under a painted
sign. People splashed through the mud to the stores across the street, weaving
in between the wagons. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Dale.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Sorry. It’s just Sarah. Sarah’s here.” Dale found his
breath and began to walk again, slowly, feeling Flynn keep pace with him. It
was shockingly, wonderfully clear, as if the blur in his physical vision had
removed all distraction from – whatever the heck it was happened neurologically
when What type images arrived. They were walking through the mud at the side of
the road, although Dale couldn’t feel anything but the sidewalk beneath his
feet. “….Her group kitted out their wagons here.” He found himself saying aloud
as he made sense of it. “There are… Flynn there’s rows of them. She saw more
than twenty. They’re lined up by the stores, taking on supplies. Five months of
supplies, the average family took on a ton – the mud’s thick. No one’s going
out onto the prairie yet, they’re all camping. Wintering here. Hundreds of
them. It’s less a town than - a huge camping ground and the store fronts, not
much else.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn guided him sideways, there was an iron framed
chair on the sidewalk and a table in front of it. Dale took a seat gratefully,
since the images weren’t slowing and it was hard to look away. The noise of the
old town was louder than the rattle of traffic in the modern one. Many voices.
Singing, somewhere off by the fires and the tents. Children playing. Animals,
dogs barking, the lowing of cattle, the rattle of wagons and carts and
somewhere the ringing of a hammer on an anvil. The sense of space – the wide open
land around the shops – reminded Dale sharply and acutely of home. It was
something Sarah and he had in common, something they both loved, and that was
why she wanted for him to share it. Not with any distress or need, just <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">please look?</i> She wanted it so much, she
was trying with all her might, with all the energy she had. She wanted that
attention from him so strongly that like that moment he’d spent crouching on
the dock in Wisconsin with her, Dale put everything else aside and focused on
her entirely. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">I’m
here, I’m listening, go ahead. Show me. Tell me.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Sarah reached one of the wagons and put a hand on it,
looking across at him with pride. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Her</i>
wagon. The seven that belonged to her were all lined up, but this, this one was
the one they had slept in every night on the long way from the lakeside hamlet.
This was the one she’d ridden in. The wagon was filling up now. Barrels and
sacks were taking up every available space, tightly packed in, and the wagon
was only long enough for Papa to lay down twice over, and wide enough that if
she stretched out she could touch one side with her hands and one side with her
toes. The space where their beds had been was rapidly getting crowded and their
feather beds and blankets had been tightly rolled up out of the way. Mud was
all over her boots, thick and oozing and mama hated it. She’d carried Sarah’s
little brother, and she would have carried Sarah too but Sarah jumped down into
the mud before mama could say wait, and once she was muddy there was no sense being
carried any more. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The mud was glorious. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Someone brought them hot chocolate. Dale held the hot
mug between his hands, vaguely aware that somewhere his hands and feet were
cold, although it was a sunny spring day on the busy street he was watching
with fascination. Sarah walked along the wooden veranda towards him. Small
fenced paddocks marked out a few homesteads beyond the stores. Most of them
were full with mules, oxen, donkeys and horses. Log cabins were ranged around a
few rough streets, holding maybe ninety buildings in all. This was Kanesville.
It wasn’t called Council Bluffs yet; now it was Kanesville, Sarah was clear
about that, and this was a Mormon town with a post office where mama sent
letters back to Grandma. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Boots. Sarah, who was always barefoot whenever Dale
had seen her, held out a foot and indicated her little black laced boots to
him, thick with mud. The significance of them, Dale wasn’t sure of, but he
nodded grave acceptance of the fact of them as something she wanted him to acknowledge.
David was walking slowly along the veranda some way behind her. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale looked over Sarah’s head to him in surprise. There
was something slightly off kilter about the light and the speed of movement of
the world around him, as if he was walking through a picture. David was more
real than it was, more solid. He met Dale’s eye and Dale saw the flash of a
grin, something twinkling in his face as if this was one enormous joke. Sarah
grinned back at him, skipping to take his hand. David held it, looking down
into her face- and abruptly a little boy ran along the veranda towards them. He
was booted too, maybe a little younger than Sarah, although his face lit up at
the sight of her, and he hit her arm with enthusiastic if clumsy welcome as he
reached her, hopping alongside her. He was missing a front tooth, his grin at
Dale was wide and his hands, his knees and his face were as muddy as his feet. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Used to the sense of tension or jarring around someone
‘stuck’, Dale searched the child’s face with confusion. This kid was perfectly
happy. His ease about being here was as lively as Sarah’s, and like her, he was
a visitor. Which made David’s presence still more confusing. If nothing needed
to be done for this child, what was he doing here? And then David stepped out
of the picture, the muddy street vanished, and the blur of a frosty grey
sidewalk dotted with people filled Dale’s vision again. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn’s hand was over his. Dale turned his own hand
over and gripped it, feeling Flynn’s fingers wrap around and squeeze. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“What was that?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Sarah. And David with another child. I have no idea
why.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Is the child stuck?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“No.” And everything in Dale’s gut rebelled at the
thought of a child being stuck anywhere. “No, he was fine. A little boy, about
Sarah’s age.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Another pioneer child?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I think so. I think Sarah knew him. She was pleased
to see him.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">That was something of an understatement. He could
still feel her delight. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Was he from their train?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The odd automatic sensations that came with thinking
about these kind of things were often very swift to come, and Dale shook his
head before he’d consciously realised it. There was a sense of – detachment,
enough to clue him in. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“No, I don’t think so. Just that he was around here
when she was.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“What do you want to do about it?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn was familiar with this; they all were. Dale
thought about, half of him focused on the need to be calm, to not move around
too much, and the other half, if he was honest, straining at the leash with a
whole lot of things to think about. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I want to see if I can find him, please. Or find whatever
it is they want to show me.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Although
it’s not as if I’m going to be able to see it. </span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">But Sarah was of the ranch. He had a responsibility,
and it wasn’t reserved just for when he was having good days. Apparently Sarah
and David didn’t agree that a lack of clear vision rendered him useless. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Although
as Jas made clear, you never had a lack of things to do. You were just annoyed
that what you needed to do wasn’t the same as you had planned.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Finish your hot chocolate.” Flynn put the mug against
his hand. It was still hot, hot enough to ward off some of the frost in the
air. Dale drained it and got up, feeling Flynn’s arm slip through his. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Which way?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale waited, consciously letting his shoulders drop,
his body relax, his mind empty – and the nudge at his attention was almost
immediate, even without being able to see much of anything. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“That way. Over there.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn guided them across the road, weaving through the
traffic. “There’s a clock tower about twenty feet ahead of us to the left.
Directly in front is a car lot.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Yes, well what was here now often made little
difference to Whats. Right now he had some insight into what that was like. Dale
let Flynn guide them over the dropped kerbs at the mouth of the car lot,
keeping his mind clear with an effort. The pull was forward, to the right.
Opposite what had been that bank of wooden stores, when this area here was
filled with tents and small fires. He knew he was right when Sarah’s images
began to flow again. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Papa had bought the oxen here. Six of them for each
wagon, the big, slow, lumbering beasts had to take the now heavily laden wagons
a long way over hard ground, so from here their horses got to walk while the
oxen did the work. And two more oxen were bought for every two wagons in their
party, to rotate and rest them and to be there in case any one of the team
foundered on the journey. Papa had thought this out for months, talking for
hours at night, with her uncles as they looked at maps and wrote lists. Some
wagons were supplying up with only two ox and Papa shook his head at them.
Overworking their beasts with no back up would mean a wagon and a family
stranded when they were on the trail. But the inexperienced wagoners were
everywhere, people who’d never driven a team or even a horse and cart. They
didn’t know how to yoke their beasts or handle reins, and they drove their
wagons into trees and tipped them over, and many of their wagons were cluttered
high with furniture and stoves and all the things mama and papa had left behind
in the hamlet by the lake. Their oxen had to get their wagon up hills so steep
it would take ropes to help them, and roll them over the soft, thick dirt that
lay beyond Nebraska. Just the food supplies and the wagon by itself were weight
enough. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Children ran wild here. Mama looked with disapproval
at the barefoot, wild haired, mud stained ones who ran in between the fires and
who sat on the wooden porches with their legs dangling by the stores to watch
the wagons loading up. Mama brushed Sarah’s hair twice a day and kept her
plaits neatly tied, but she was busy with helping load the wagons and cleaning
clothes and helping Aunt May cook dinner for all of them, and there were
children everywhere to play with, and it was a wonderful town. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The boy and Sarah were sitting on the fence of one of
the big corrals. It was crowded with the stock waiting to pull the wagons. A
party of men from the town had ridden out a few days ago out onto the trail and
were due back today to confirm whether grass was long enough all the way for
wagons to head out. The town was full to bursting with people waiting. Large
meetings went on around fires among the wagons where contracts were signed and
rules shared out amongst the grown ups. One of those meetings was going on
right now, over the road around a big wagon where a man in a black suit was
shouting over the bellow of cattle and the chatter of voices to the men and
women gathered around him. Most people were listening to him and paying small
mind to two children sitting on the fence, scratching the backs and ears of
whichever of the stock leaned against them. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">One of the mules was chewing on the gate pin. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Snickers being a beggar for that, and the gate pins at
Falls Chance being difficult ones to thwart him and others of the horses who
had a Machiavellian knack for opening doors and gates, Dale watched the mule
lip slowly and strategically, working the pin out of its socket. The boy and
Sarah were watching, captivated. Inch by inch by inch, the mule patiently
lipped it out, working its long tongue and soft mouth on the iron, until the
pin dropped out and with a firm nudge of its head, the mule opened the gate. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">None of the grown ups saw. With delight, the little
boy stood up on the fence to see better as the mule strolled out of the
paddock. It was followed by several other mules. And some of the cattle. Still
no one noticed. The animals were straying out into the road now. The little boy
on the fence took a cautious look at the grown ups around the wagon and then
discreetly flapped his shirt at the cattle nearest them to get them moving. The
cattle startled and having looked up from their grazing, trotted through the
open gate after their peers until the big pen was empty. By the time the first
of the grown ups noticed the wandering animals, they were everywhere. All over
the road, stirring up the mud. Strolling up the hill towards the log cabins,
several trotting towards the freedom of the open prairie beyond the road, and
some straying between the fires and the tents on the grass. The road was
suddenly full of grown ups, shooing and whistling and in the case of some of
the women, screeching and running away from oxen following them up the street.
On a bright April afternoon it was a glorious, noisy muddle, and the children
on the fence watched it with deep appreciation. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The little boy on the fence met Dale’s eye with a
wide, gap toothed grin. Dale crouched slowly down as he hopped off, bringing
their heads to the same height. His familiarity with children – any children –
was very low indeed. They were not a species he knew anything about. But the
child felt around on the ground for a stone and Dale tipped his head to watch
what the child scrawled in the mud beneath the fence rail in wobbly but clear
letters. Clay. He beamed at Dale when he was done. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Clay.” Dale repeated. “That’s your name?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The beam got wider. Clay. Sarah, still perched up on
the fence, gave him a nod of great satisfaction. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">*</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">You got used to watching him do this. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">It reminded Flynn of watching him
listening in the ANZ meeting back at the shipyard. Quiet in body and face, his
whole attention focused, taking in every detail. Even if whatever it was he was
absorbing wasn’t necessarily in this time or place. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn dug his hands in his pockets,
standing to block the wind and the gaze of passers by from him as Dale
apparently inspected the Council Bluffs guttering. With that intent expression
on his face, the fact that he made a sweater, jacket and jeans look like a
crisp and official uniform and the air he carried of knowing exactly what he
was doing and why, no one was going to challenge him. He’d spent an entire
childhood doing more or less what he wanted by looking like this; without a
competent Top in the vicinity he usually got away with it. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">He rose slowly, putting a hand out to
the wall for balance, and Flynn put a hand through his arm. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Done?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“…… it seems so.” He sounded quizzical
rather than convinced. Flynn drew him closer as the wind coming down the street
was sharp. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Come on. There’s a restaurant across
the street, let’s get a meal and warm up.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">They were seated in the window of the
restaurant, looking out at the street, and from watching Dale’s eyes and the
slightly chaotic movement of them that suggested they weren’t teaming too well
in processing what he saw yet, he wasn’t making out much beyond the glass.
Flynn hung both their coats out of the way and put a hand over his, rubbing to
get some warmth back into it. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“How hungry are you? This place is
mostly Italian American, they’ll do plenty of finger foods.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Yes.” That was the patented, Aden, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I am paying attention to you along with
multiple other things I am processing and will get back to you</i> tone. Flynn
gripped his hand firmly. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Hey.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Yes. Sorry.” Dale blinked and more or
less looked towards his face. “Italian American. Sounds fine.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn ordered tea, cheese sticks, onion
rings, bread and fries as the easiest hot food for him to handle that couldn’t
be spilled or dropped in a way that would upset him in public, much as Paul
would have cringed at the selection, thanked the slightly bemused waiter and
took a firmer hold on Dale’s hand. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“What happened? Did you find this other
child?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Yes. Clay. His name is Clay.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“What did he want you to see?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale still sounded faintly quizzical, the
data still processing. “He and Sarah let the stock out of the pen. Not quite
intentionally, a mule chewed the gate pin loose the way Snickers does. They
didn’t stop him and they didn’t sound the alarm, they were having too much fun
watching the animals get all over the road. Clay encouraged a couple that were
slow to get moving. There were thirty cattle and nine mules loose in the street
before anyone noticed.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“And?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Exactly.” Dale said rather wryly. “There’s
no ‘and’. That was it.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“And you felt done?” That was often the
main guidance they had; the same sense of ‘done’ Dale needed to be able to let
anything go. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Yes. I suppose I know - it’s often not
anything objectively significant.” Dale sounded quietly compassionate about it.
“This seems even less objectively significant than usual, but to a six year old
– that was probably important.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Which he wanted to show you.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Yes. Although mostly it was Sarah who wanted
me to see it. I have no idea why.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It’s a familiar phrase with small
children: look at me.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Yes.” From Dale’s tone that wasn’t a
mild agreement but a confirmation that he too had witnessed this. He actively studied
people, he observed and learned in the same way he read books, a very
intentional pursuit of the knowledge he felt he lacked. “But David was here
earlier. I usually only see him in situations like this if someone is stuck,
but there’s no – no sensation of that.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">It was the same intensity of thought he
had had been giving to Argeles and Akhiro forty eight hours ago, the same
commitment to understanding something that interested him, and Flynn welcomed
it. It was a genuine distraction for him, something to think about other than
fear and frustration. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Was David worried?” It was something
Flynn often said to him, quite casually, as a measure of how Dale felt about
whatever was happening and to get Dale to reflect on how seriously he felt he
needed to take it. Dale answered at once, drily and without needing to think
about it. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Not at all. He appeared to be finding
the whole thing quite amusing. But then he would. He was there while the scan
was happening at the hospital.” He added a little too lightly in a way that
said <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’m honestly not crazed</i>. “That
was about the worst moment of the whole day, I hated them not letting you in.
He held my hand.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It was one of the worst moments on my
side of the door too.” Touched, Flynn squeezed his hand. These kind of admissions
still weren’t easy for Dale, he didn’t make them freely. “I’m glad he could be
with you. What did he say?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Not to be afraid. That I wasn’t badly
hurt, it seemed worse than it was.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">That was a relief to hear. And likely
some of why Dale seemed so unconcerned about his sight. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">David, I sincerely hope you’re right. </span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>They
drove on to Kearney that afternoon. There was, as Flynn knew from the time Dale
spent in the museum at Jackson, no one specific path for the Oregon trail. Wagons
had followed the same general direction but every group found their own path, looking
for any even slightly easier ground, and when the trail was busy there could be
wagons travelling steadily several miles abreast. This area had been crowded in
its heyday. Most of the settlements they passed hadn’t been here at the time
Dale’s little Sarah passed through. This had been open land in her day, nothing
but the green grass and flat prairie. The roads were quiet and there still
wasn’t much to see on the long, grey, two lane road other than the wide expanse
of open land on either side, punctuated by the lone farm houses. The frost was
melted off the prairie, and as yet, while the roads were well gritted, they
hadn’t yet seen snow. Somewhere to the left of them, the Platte river wound;
the river the wagon trails had followed and depended on through this territory.
Lakes and then the river itself began to punctuate the endless green visible
from the road as they approached Kearney. Caroline had issued them with directions
to a bed and breakfast on the very edge of the town, near to the road and easy
to find. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The Busch Bed and Breakfast had a large
sign outside of a fairly new looking, wood board fronted inn with painted signs
of beer tankers and barrels. It was five pm and dusk was drawing in fast as
Flynn parked in the surprisingly empty small lot outside, collected their
overnight bag and guided Dale with him to the front door. They were greeted at
the reception desk by a large, broad, very cheerful man in a pink shirt, with a
thick beard and a broad German accent, the Mr Busch himself, who got Flynn to
sign in the equally large and ornate visitors register as if he’d been waiting
all his life for their signatures. He guided them up a wooden stairway when
they were done. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The whole place was wood. The stairs.
The floor. The ceiling. Wood panelling was a strong theme, interrupted only at
intervals by small paintings of forests as if to affirm where all the panelling
came from. A heavily carved wooden door was thrown open on the first floor and
Flynn, steadying Dale who was making his way through this fretwork explosion
without being able to see much of it, blinked slightly at the room displayed to
them. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“…. Thank you.” He said to their host,
who gave him a wide smile that reminded Flynn inexorably of Bear. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You’re welcome. Be comfortable. Have a
rest and refresh and I’ll have dinner downstairs ready for you in an hour. Your
Miss Caroline made the arrangements.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">He thumped his way downstairs with a
bouncing tread, and Flynn gingerly shut the carved door. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Is there as much wood as I think there
is?” Dale said cautiously. Flynn put their night bag down, keeping hold of his
arm. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“No, there’s a lot more. You can tell
Caroline I do not appreciate her sense of humour.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Why?” Dale gingerly made his way across
the wooden floorboards towards the largest structure dominating the room. “I
can see the shape of this, but…oh.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">His hands found the ladder and the
bedding beyond. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Yes, oh.” Flynn said darkly. “You can
find the gadget on that bloody phone and take a picture to prove to Riley what
that monstrosity is, and that we have to sleep in it.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“What is it?” Dale’s hands walked the
edges of it and he began to laugh. “It’s a beer barrel? There’s seriously a bed
inside a beer barrel.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Yes, it’s a giant barrel. On its side.
With a ladder. And you wake me tonight if you want to put so much as a foot out
of bed so I know you haven’t broken your neck on this ridiculous object.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Is there a bathroom?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Here.” Flynn opened the door, and
leaned back against the doorframe, swearing. “Guess what the bloody bath is?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Another barrel?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Yes. With beer draft handle taps. No
shower, just the barrel. There has to be a holiday inn or a normal motel
somewhere around here-”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“This is fine. It’s warm, it’s a bed and
a bathroom, we’ll be gone in the morning.” Dale’s hands found him and Dale’s
arms wrapped around his waist. “We can survive one night.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“There are bloody Christmas trees on the
towels.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale started to laugh again. “We can
even survive that.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“If he makes his clients bath in beer,
we’re leaving.” Flynn said shortly. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">There were Christmas trees on the thick
green blankets adorning the bed inside the barrel and covering the several
large carved wooden chairs, which looked as if they’d escaped from a Santa’s
grotto somewhere. Mr Busch obviously enjoyed Christmas. A small but real and
heavily decorated Christmas tree also stood in the corner of the room. Dale
paused beside that when he found it and Flynn saw him breathing in the pine
scent.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn had spent a few minutes in a store
on the street at Council Bluffs picking up a few essentials since they had
neither planned nor packet to be away from home so long, and they both changed
into the fresh underwear, jeans, shirts and fleece sweaters Flynn had picked up
as warmest and softest for Dale to travel in. Something achieved without fuss,
without complication and without aisles of bloody complicated designs and
colours, as was perfectly possible to do in a sensible store, despite the store
having had the compulsory baubles, lights and sound track playing carols.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The dining room was predictably wood
panelled with wooden benches and tables. Only one table was set by the
crackling open fire covered in greenery, and Mr Busch was laying out plates
alongside a slender, older man also in a pink shirt who gave Flynn a warm,
kindly smile and held out a hand to shake. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Hello, I’m Stefan. You are Flynn? And
this must be Dale. We were sorry to hear of your troubles, have you driven far
today?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“We set out from Fort Dodge this
morning. About five hours on the road all told.” Flynn watched the man gently
take Dale’s hand to shake it, with a sensitivity in the gesture he appreciated.
“We were surprised you weren’t busier so near the holiday.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“We’re not officially open.” Stefan
draped an arm around Mr Busch’s large hips, and Flynn saw then why they were
being made so welcome. “It’s usually quiet around here for the winter and we
like the place to ourselves over the holiday, but when we heard your situation
we were glad to have you.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It’s very kind of you.” From Dale’s
tone he’d also clocked that they were being hosted by another gay couple, and
that this was a personal gesture from one couple to another. “We were impressed
by how unusual our room was.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“That’s Jorg.” Stefan said with
affection, giving his larger partner a warm look. “He does all the interiors
and I do the cooking, I’m much better at that. I hope you don’t mind joining us
for our evening meal, it seemed friendlier than bringing something up to your
room?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">And these two were keen for the company.
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“We’d be delighted.” Flynn said frankly.
“A home cooked meal and good company is something we’ve been short of and
missing ever since we went out to Wisconsin. Can I help at all?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“If you can carry a few dishes through,
yes please.” Stefan patted Jorg’s hip. “Drinks. Dale, what can we get you? Jorg
stocks all kinds of beers, there’s wine if you’d rather, or if you’re having to
be careful of drinking there’s juice, tea, coffee?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Actually I’d love a cup of tea.” Dale
said apologetically. “With milk if I may? I’ve been craving one all day.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">That wasn’t a polite response, it was a
genuine one the way Dale showed warmth to any friend or neighbour of theirs and
Flynn saw Jorg’s smile light up in response.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Yes of course! British tea, coming up.
Come tell me how you like it.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Stefan hadn’t been exaggerating when he
said he was good at cooking. They loaded the table with dishes, from roasted
pork with dumplings to a dish of pickled red cabbage with apple and another of
noodles in what looked like a thick cheese sauce and smelled delicious. It was
piping hot, it truly was a real family meal. Flynn put a guarding hand over
Dale’s as he began to fill Dale’s bowl for him. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Mind the dishes.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Dale, I’m afraid it’s a bit on the
drippy side,” Stefan said apologetically, “I did think about doing finger foods
but it’s a cold day and we thought you’d need something substantial. I
thickened the gravy which should slow it down a bit and there’s plenty of
napkins beside you, help yourself and do whatever makes you comfortable.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">That explained why they had large and
deep spaghetti bowls instead of plates, and it was a thoughtful gesture. So was
the shredding of the roasted pork which avoided the need to cut slices, and the
halved dumplings. Paul would like this man. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Pork here, dumplings here, noodles
here, cabbage here.” Flynn guided Dale’s spoon to each part of the bowl. “Can
you see enough of it?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Outlines and colours. I’ll be fine
thanks, it smells wonderful. We have had rather a lot of sandwiches and fast
food since this happened.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“May I ask what happened? Your
corporation – ANZ – said there’d been an accident.” Stefan said gently. Dale
made a very careful, deliberate attempt to find noodles. To ask a perfectionist
to make his first stab at eating a wet meal with a knife and fork with very
little vision in front of strangers was asking a great deal. Flynn discreetly
put a hand over his, taking his fork and winding noodles around the prongs
before he put the fork back into Dale’s hand. Dale took it gratefully, taking a
cautious mouthful. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“We were at a meeting in a shipyard in
Wisconsin, they had an explosion in their steel mill while we were viewing it
and a fragment caught my head. It’s just a concussion but it’s caused us to
take a rather…. diverted way home.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Do you have far left to go?” Jorg asked
with his mouth full. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Wyoming.” Flynn guided Dale to find and
scoop some of the pork. “We’re taking it gently, probably a couple more days on
the road. We’re ranchers. Used to more rural surroundings than this.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Well if you’re needing some rural
comforts there’s a Christmas fair tonight, up at the fort.” Jorg said with
enthusiasm. Dale lowered his fork. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The</i>
fort?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“About half of it, what was saved and
preserved.” Stefan told him. “You know your pioneer history?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I’m… slightly obsessive about it.” Dale
admitted lightly. Stefan smiled. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I suppose that makes this road trip a
bit luckier for you? The fort’s usually closed outside of the summer, this is
rare, but they’re having a Christmas fair tonight as a fundraiser. Jorg loves
any Christmas events, and we’ve been part of the planning committee. We’re
headed out there for about seven pm if you want to come along?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn saw Dale, who respected these boundaries
in a different way to Riley who would quite frankly ask and just as good
naturedly accept a no if need be, give him the space to make the decision without
expression on his face. If you knew Dale, that careful lack of interest said a
lot in itself. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Dale would love that.” Flynn said to
Stefan. “Thank you, yes please. We’ll take our car if that’s ok, we’re having
to take things very easy at the moment so we may not stay long.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Christmas
lights decorated the paths of the fort. Heavy black cannons stood on brick gun
placements, and Flynn walked slowly with his hand through Dale’s arm to guide
him. Jorg and Stefan were helping out with one of the stalls and had carried
things up towards the area where the stalls were clustered and music was
playing from speakers. Most of what was left here was earthworks. A wicker
fenced area marked some of the fort, and several small low buildings had been
reconstructed. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Was this here in Sarah’s time?” Flynn
asked as they walked towards one of them; a small post office. Dale shook his
head. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“No. It was being built. Which puts a
date on when she was here; 1848. The soldiers were constructing it. It became
busy later, thousands of wagons passing through each season to resupply, and this
was the only mail office out on the trail – although that came after Sarah’s
time.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You can feel it?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I can hear bits of it. If I
concentrate.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">He was relaxed, focused. Enjoying this,
and that was why they were here, the difference in him to last night was
considerable. He’d eaten well of a proper meal, currently he didn’t look tired,
he was actively interested in this place, and while Flynn was keeping a close
eye on the time, he thought a short stroll shouldn’t overtax him. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">It wasn’t busy, but a steady stream of
local were enjoying the stalls. Keeping close hold of Dale to avoid him being
run over by free range kids, people with strollers and people incapable of
looking where they were going, Flynn walked with him round the stands,
murmuring a quiet description of what each held. Cakes; candles in varying
shapes and sizes; bath bombs in alarming colours as if people actually wanted
to get into a bath with a foaming salt cupcake never mind being prepared to pay
for the privilege; a man in a Santa suit talking to highly nervous small
children; a pancake stand which seemed an odd decision for a Christmas fair;
and various stalls of decorations. Flynn paused by one, picking up one of the
wooden ones to put gently into Dale’s hand. It was sticks, simple sticks tied
with string to form a star, simple and rustic and rather appropriate to the
place. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Think Paul would like a couple of those
on the tree?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale smiled as he felt the shape. “Yes.
That’s lovely.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“We’ll have three of those stars
please.” Flynn said to the woman behind the stall, and with a moment of
reflection added several other items from the stall to the bag she was packing
for them. As they walked away from the stall, Flynn put the bag into Dale’s
hands. “Take a seat here for a moment and look at those? I’ll be right back,
there’s a juice stand there.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">He was watching as he waited to be
served at the stand, as Dale felt through the bag, drawing out first the tied
bunch of cinnamon sticks and instinctively raising them to his face as he
caught the scent. And then a ball, an orange studded with cloves. The feel and
the scent of them had been heavy on the stall, it had reminded Flynn of watching
Dale catch the scent of the pine tree at the bed and breakfast, and watching now
as Dale ran a finger over the clove ball and breathed it in confirmed he’d been
right. For Dale, enjoying Christmas was still a new thing, entirely based on
being with them. Their traditions, the things they did together. It really
mattered to Dale. He loved this season and how their family celebrated, and to
miss the lights, the visuals around them was a serious loss for him. It raised
a dark, grim fear that if this vision issue persisted then making things more
multisensory in their daily lives was something they were going to have to get
used to. It was hard. To look at him, the crisp darkness of his hair shadowed
by the flickering Christmas lights, the intent expression in his face of high
concentration that was there when he was tacking up a horse or standing in a
board room, all of him totally absorbed in a way that always cut straight to
Flynn’s heart…. Flynn took two of the paper cups and brought them across,
taking a seat on the bench beside him a little stiffly. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“These bloody jeans are going in the bin
when we get home. There’s no no give in them, they’d be useless for riding. Here.
Mulled apple juice. It’s warm rather than hot.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The music over the loud speakers
switched to another carol. Dale sipped the juice, the clove ball in his hand. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“There are children playing by a
campfire. About twenty feet to the right of us. They were camped here. They’ve pulled
sticks out of the fire, they’re running around with them.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“That sounds lethal.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“They’re having fun.” Dale looked out
into the darkness, his fingers running absently over the cloves. “Sarah’s with
them. So is Clay.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">*</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The children played with
the smouldering, sparking sticks for a while. There was much jabbing at each
other and laughing and sparks and ash flying up into the dark, clear sky.
Sarah’s boots were dusty and battered, and neatly put to the side of the fire.
She was playing bare foot on the grass. Her hair was plaited but coming free as
if it hadn’t been brushed for a while. Weeks out on the trail, especially out here
in the desert where the Platte river was thick and muddy, staying clean was
getting to be harder than even the most determined family could handle. Mama
had surrendered on washing their clothes days ago. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Supervision of children was very different out on the
trail to at home. Adults were busy, all the time, constantly, with the effort
of keeping the wagon moving, leading the animals, driving the wagons, keeping
people fed. People in the group got sick, Mrs Armstrong was near constantly
sick and Mr Armstrong was one of the ones they’d left under the trail in the
graves the men dug and then drove the wagons over to hide the spot from looters
and wolves. There were quite a lot of them. Sarah, like the other children, had
seen the bones by the trail, or the flash of a plait emerging from the ground.
She knew it meant another little girl like her, but it just Was. Like the
rolling of the wagons and the endless bread and bacon; life just Was. Now Aunt
May drove Mrs Armstrong’s wagon and Mama carried and fed their baby, wrapped in
her shawl and tied to her body so she had her hands free to drive their wagon
while Papa walked and led the oxen. They all walked. There was no room in the
wagon for anything more than their supplies since they left Council Bluffs, and
the oxen worked hard enough without having to pull passengers. Sarah and every
other child old enough, walked with the adults beside the wagons. Besides,
Papa’s rule was that they must never climb in or out of the wagon when it was
moving. He’d talked with other wagon trains and heard the stories of children
falling and being crushed under the wheels as they climbed, and he’d promised
them the spanking of their lives if they ever tried it. But mostly if you were
there for meals and bedtime, no one much cared what you did in between, and no
one supervised. Mama still insisted on boots, and Sarah hated it. More than
anything she longed to go barefoot all the time like the other children did on
the prairie. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">It was a childhood so absorbing and yet so completely
foreign to Dale’s that it could have been a different planet, not just a
different time and place. And yet here they were. Sarah paused and looked
straight at him, direct into his eyes. Both of them from the ranch in Wyoming,
both of them here together touching in this time and place. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">David was watching the children play. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale saw him leaning against the fence, hands deep in
his pockets and his collar turned up against the wind. Sarah walked across to
him, and David offered her his hand, looking down at her as though he was
searching her face for something. And then near him, suddenly Jesse was running
on the grass with a burning stick in his hand. His name came in a rush to Dale
along with the leap of Sarah’s heart at the sight of him, as familiarly noisy
and untidy as he always was. Dark curly hair in his eyes, he was bashing his
stick against anyone else’s in reach to make the sparks fly. Jesse always hit
the hardest, ran the fastest and yelled the loudest of any child in their
train. He bashed the stick hard against the fence as he passed it, and he jumped,
his eyes going wide as the burning end of it caught on the fence post and broke
off. It smoked for a second and then the woven fence burst into flame. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">No child screamed. Any squeal would attract the
attention of grownups whose patience for children was not high out here where
they had so many demands on their time. Instead, rapidly, children gathered
around the fence with their sticks, whacking at the stuck and smouldering stick
end together until it fell to the ground. The fence still burned. Jesse ripped off
his muddy shirt and ran to the water trough to soak it, and battered the wet fabric
against the fence. With a hiss, the fire went out. The fence, somewhat charred,
was no longer burning. Children scattered, giggling, abandoning the burning
sticks in the fire, and a moment later no child was anywhere near the
incriminating evidence. Jesse, happily shouldering back his wet and smoky
shirt, scampered ahead of the others in search of something new to do. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">He grinned at Dale as he passed them. A cheeky grin,
with lively eyes above it. He was a little older than Sarah and Clay. Not by
much, but he led the little posse across the grass. Clay too caught Dale’s eye
with his gap-toothed beam. As the other children and the firelight faded away,
Sarah, Jesse and Clay remained, running in and out of the blur of the stalls
and peering over the edges of them.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Three of them. Now there were three. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Flynn,” he said conversationally, watching them, “We
are knocking about an historical monument accompanied by three small children.
I have no idea why.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Three?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Sarah and David just found another one. I have no
idea what’s going on.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Did they know about the Pied Piper in Sarah’s time?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I have no idea, Tom’s the expert on fairy tales. I’d
need to look it up. They seem… perfectly happy.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Sarah appeared around the edge of the mulled apple
juice stand and pointed at the machine crushing apples with her eyes wide. Dale
nodded agreement to her that yes, it was remarkable. That was all she appeared
to want. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">On the way back to the car they paused by the
blacksmiths where Flynn quietly described in his ear as two men worked on
anvils by a fire, shoeing a particularly lovely Clysdale in a demonstration. The
fire was the most visible thing in the blur. The outlines of people gathered
around were also evident, and the general outline of the patient horse. Dale
listened to the sound of the hammering and watched the fire leaping, and it was
only after a while that he became aware of one small figure that was completely
clear within the blur. The same way that Sarah, Clay and Jesse were. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Because
that part I don’t see with my eyes. </span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">It was, objectively, fascinating. It was a very lean little
figure with red hair and heavy freckling over the face. Part of the freckling
was a large birthmark running from the temple across the cheek to the nose. His
eyes were large in the darkness and he was watching the fire. Maybe Sarah’s
age. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">No.
No children stuck. Please, no children stuck here.</span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Determination mixing with concern Dale made his breath
slow, his body relax and forced himself to let it flow rather than try to reach
towards it. But there was none of the tension around the child that he
associated with the stuck. The child was oriented in this time and place,
watching what went on, not lost in whatever moment he was stuck on. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">So
he’s a visitor. </span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">But a wary, timid visitor. Most visitors were
confident, relaxed and at home in the places they went to. Not all, but most.
Dale made himself relax further, concentrating on calm. The warmth of thought
and the flow of peace, companionship, that tended to reach out to and soothe
other people’s energy, and lend them strength. It made the child glance towards
him. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Wary little eyes met his, and it reminded Dale of a
fox. Something shy and wild, born to run. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">David?
Is he all right? </span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">He often didn’t get an answer when he reached out to
David directly. But he felt the response almost immediately. Yes. This child
was ok. There was no need to free any spirit here. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">But the child was still half hidden in the dark,
alone, watching, and there was something wrong about that. Something that
didn’t gel with the other children playing together out by the stalls. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Sarah?
</span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale thought it as clearly as he could, bringing her
strongly to mind. Making himself focus on the image of her. And almost
instantly, somehow, he felt David’s energy join his and help in a way he only
usually did for the ‘stuck’. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Sarah,
can you hear me? Do you know this little one here? </span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Reid. The child’s name came to mind and Dale had no
idea where it came from; David or the child himself. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Sarah?
</span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">It was a less a word he spoke in his head than a
reaching for the sense of her. Whatever sense of each other they had that
connected them. She was there. Her hair moving softly in the night breeze a
little slower than everyone else’s around her, her feet bare, her expression
thoughtful. She stood for a moment, looking at the little boy in the shadows,
who looked back at her with open shock in his small face as though he couldn’t
believe another child was here. Then she quite firmly went to take his hand and
pulled him with her out of the corner. He was reluctant to come, he dug his
heels in and pulled, but Sarah held onto his hand with both of hers with
determination in her face. And he went with her. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">In Dale’s experience, visitors simply flicked in and
out of time and place. Wherever they wished to be they were, and when their
interest shifted they moved on just as abruptly, as if they moved at the speed
of thought. So when Sarah towed Reid out of the smithy Dale had no doubt, the little
boy wasn’t feeling nearly as reluctant as he looked. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">When Flynn walked him down to the car a few minutes
later, there were now four children running around on the grass ahead of them,
the little red headed boy still clutching Sarah’s hand. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn muttered as he
operated the beer draft taps for the bath, but it was, blessedly, large enough
a bathing barrel to take the both of them together and it was surprisingly deep
and very hot. Stefan had put a large thermos of tea with mugs and biscuits in
their room since he and Jorg would stay late at the fort to help clear up after
the fair. They lounged in the hot water, drank tea, and afterwards, as Flynn
helped him dry his hair and change into night wear, Dale dialled the phone to
call home. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">It was answered promptly by a cheerful voice that
announced, “Good evening and welcome to the madhouse, how may I help you?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Music was playing in the background. Dale recognised
the sounds of Stan Rogers and smiled, taking a seat on one of the overly carved
chairs. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Hi Gerry, it’s me.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Hello me!” Gerry’s voice raised to a yell over the
music. “HEY. Can the Stan. It’s Dale, out in the wilds of – where are you
darling? What is between Wisconsin and here?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Nebraska. Quite a lot of Nebraska.” The music turned
down. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Put it on conference.” Riley ordered in the back
ground. “No, that button.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Well before we knew Dale, no one knew anything about
conference calls and we never used them, and you live with the man not me-”
Gerry stabbed at several buttons and the sound of the line changed as he found
the right one. “There. Darling, you are live and accessible to the entire
household, for better or for worse. I’m so sorry you’re having such a hellish
time, how are you?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Where are you?” Riley demanded. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Fort Kearney. We’re at around the half way mark.”
Dale accepted the firm pat on the shoulder that said Flynn wanted him to get up
and move to the bed. That took a moment of navigating the short wooden ladder
and crawling across the wide, deep mattress that was…. inside the barrel. It
was surprisingly comfortable. “We’re at a B&B tonight with a very sweet
couple, who are making us sleep in a barrel.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You what?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Flynn took a photograph to prove it. It’s a giant
beer barrel with a mattress in it.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“And Flynn’s agreeing to sleep in that?” Gerry
inquired. “Seriously?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It’s not like he has a lot of choice.” Flynn pointed
out, crawling across the mattress and whacking his head audibly on the top of
the barrel. Dale put a hand up to find his hair and rub it as Flynn lay down
beside him.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“We had a bath in a beer barrel as well, it’s been
interesting.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“And what else have you been doing on top of this
appalling perversion?” Gerry, from the sound of it, had dropped down onto a
couch and the phone was on a table. Most likely the coffee table. “Ash and I
arrived this afternoon, we’ve mostly been feeding bullocks since then since the
tractor ignition declined to co operate and we had to drag the hay out with the
shires. That was fun.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“What’s wrong with the ignition?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Gerry, you had to tell them that?” Paul sounded
exasperated. “Dale, Bear will sort it when he gets here tomorrow, don’t worry
about it. We’re fine using the shires. There’s plenty of hands to help and most
of them were playing in the snow as much as the shires were.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“What’s at Fort Kearney?” Riley asked. “Is there still
a fort?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Yes, we went to a Christmas fair there this evening
with the couple running the B&B. The earthworks are left, a few recreated
buildings like the post office.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Any Whats there?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Well Sarah’s here.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Is she?” Riley sounded surprised and pleased. “She’s
still around with you?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“She knows the territory. Her family travelled up to
Council Bluffs, that’s was their nearest supply town and jumping on point for
the trail.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You’ve seen Council Bluffs?” Ash’s voice asked in the
background, sounding interested. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Yes, we were there this morning. The main street
still has the same shape. It was a wintering ground for wagons waiting to go
out as the winter started. Wagons lined up in rows outside the stores, loading
up – five months supplies had to go on each wagon.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">It was the kind of detail he could never resist adding
in, this kind of thing fascinated him too much. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“What did they take?” Paul asked. “Bacon I suppose?
Flour? I can’t imagine trying to stock for five months ahead with nothing
else.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Sugar. Beans. Coffee. They walked. The children
walked. There wasn’t room on the wagons once they were loaded, and the teams
couldn’t pull extra weight.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You see them all on the western movies sitting up on
the boxes at the front or on the tail board at the back,” Ash commented. “I’m
guessing that isn’t accurate. Mind you, the wagons can’t have moved that fast,
it must have been an easy pace to walk to.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Maybe two miles an hour? Well below normal walking
pace.” Dale said pensively. “They covered twenty miles a day at most. We drove
from Council Bluffs to Kearney in under three hours today. That would have
taken them nine or ten days at best in the wagons, and we’re currently on the
easy ground. From the fort onwards it got a lot harder. The desert starts
beyond the fort.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“So what was Sarah doing at Council Bluffs?” Riley
asked. “Showing you where her wagon loaded up?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Yes, but she wasn’t that interested in that part. She
was more interested in the oxen they bought to pull the wagons. Her father led
or tied their horses to the wagons, there weren’t many horses around at all.
All oxen, some mules. And there was a boy called Clay. He was about six. Sarah
knew him. They were sitting on the fence by a corral where stock was waiting
for the wagons to go out – they couldn’t start until spring was far enough
along. Adults were listening to a trail leader who was talking through the
contract the group were signing-”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“They signed contracts?” Gerry said, startled. “What
about?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“The terms under which they joined. The rules of the
group. There’d be a leader of each group, and the order in which the wagons
travelled was regulated, how they’d deal with law breakers, drinking, gambling,
hunting. An agreement to follow the authority of the leader. I don’t think
Sarah’s group signed one, they were a group of family and friends, they
probably didn’t need it. But the adults were gathered around listening to a
larger group negotiating and voting, and didn’t notice a mule was chewing out
the gate pin, Snickers style.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Riley, who spent the most time organising the corral
gate to foil Snickers, laughed. “Did he do it?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Yes. The children sat on the fence, watched it all
and didn’t say a word. Except Clay waved on a few of the oxen that needed
encouraging to escape. There were animals all over the street before any adult
noticed. And at Fort Kearney there was a boy called Jesse, a bit older than
Sarah. The children were playing around the fire with smouldering sticks, they
liked the sparks in the dark. No one was paying them much attention, the
children were pretty much left to their own devices and they liked it that way.
Except Jesse got over enthusiastic fighting a fence and set it on fire. The
children put it out quick, no one noticed, but someone must have found a burned
fence in the morning and wondered what had happened. And there was a child
called Reid. With a large birth mark down his face, very shy.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Where was he from?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I don’t know. He was hiding at the fort, watching one
of the blacksmith demonstrations. I think abandoned or orphaned children on the
trail was something that often happened. Sarah’s family were looking after a
baby from another wagon, the father died and the mother was ill. The groups
travelling together probably absorbed children and anyone else left alone. But
the forts were kind of a service station. People coming and going all the time
through the season, I don’t know much track would have been kept of any waifs
and strays getting stranded there.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“How can you find out?” Riley asked him. Dale
considered it. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Possibly there are fort records. I don’t know. To be
honest, I’m not sure Reid has any interest in that.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“What is he interested in?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“…..mostly, I think joining the other kids.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“So you’ve got four What kids running around?” Riley
said with amusement. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“At the fort this evening, yes. We seem to be
collecting them.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Why?” Luath sounded curious. “There’s usually a
purpose, isn’t there?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Yes. Just often not something objectively – relevant.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“People aren’t that straight forward.” Riley said to
Luath. “It can be just plain ‘look at this’ with visitors. And these are kids,
so it’s what matters to kids. That’s probably the part to figure out.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“These are young kids.” Dale agreed. “Which I think
matters too. Is Jasper there?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Paul sounded gentle. “Sorry hon, he’s outside. Can I
get him to call you later, or does Flynn want you to sleep?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Flynn wants him to sleep.” Flynn abstracted the phone
from Dale. “That’s as much exercise and talking as he needs to handle today.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“But tomorrow’s your quiet day.” Paul said. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Quiet?” Dale said to Flynn, suspiciously. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“We’ll call you from Ash Hollow tomorrow.” Flynn said
to the phone. “Sleep well, goodnight all.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Quiet?” Dale repeated. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Quiet.” There was a click as Flynn turned the phone
off. “I had Caroline plan in a rest day. Ash Hollow is only a couple of hours
from here, so we’ll sleep in, do just the one short drive tomorrow and take
some rest time.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“We could be home by tomorrow evening if we just got
on with it….” Dale said irritably. Flynn slid an arm underneath him, pulling
him over.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Calm. We’re in no rush, we’re admiring the scenery
and we’re taking the time to rest.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Hence being in bed at eight thirty pm. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The
job is to take it as it comes. </span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Besides,” Flynn said in his ear. “Sarah seems to be
enjoying this.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">22nd
December </span></b></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>On
Flynn’s insistence they laid in bed much later than they usually would on the
ranch, and since Stefan and Jorg also got up late due to their late evening at
the fair, they shared breakfast together after nine in the dining room. The
coffee and cakes were hot and good, and the chat, mostly about the fair and the
local politics around it, was comfortable. After several days preventing a
diplomatic incident with table thumping and threats, hearing about who snubbed
who on the planning committee and who had then defriended who on Facebook was
really quite soothing. They exchanged phone numbers and postal addresses when
they left an hour later, with an invitation for Stefan and Jorg to stay at the
ranch any time they were passing through Wyoming. Dale thought these two would
be likely to take them up on it. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">On the road out of Kearney, they almost immediately
had to cross the Platte river. Sarah and her family’s wagons would have forded it
somewhere near here, having carefully chosen their spot. As soon as Dale
thought about it, Sarah showed him. The grownups had waded the river, leading
the oxen, and the children had ridden the wagons across, relying on the
carefully caulked wagon beds to float and protect the dry goods from the water.
The tar barrel hung beneath the wagon and Papa checked and filled the gaps
before he led the team down into the water. She sat on the driving board,
clinging on with both hands, and watched their little cavalcade make its way
across. The occasional wagon got stuck and had to be dug out and dragged free,
but they sounded the river as being only four-foot-deep in the middle, and
while it was a long, slow process they crossed without difficulty. Flynn
described the land for Dale as the road crossed the bridge: he saw a wide,
quiet, brown river with lush green banks and trees. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">From there, they drove the long road through the green
desert which Sarah knew grew rockier as sage brush took over from grass. At
Ogallala, two hours and a hundred and forty nine miles down the road, they crossed
the river again, and this time from Flynn’s description the banks were rocky
and dry, the river less clear and considerably less peaceful. It had taken the
average wagon a minimum of eight days to travel the distance that just rolled
away beneath the wheels of the four by four. Ogallala had not existed in
Sarah’s day, but the river here had been thick, muddy and full of flies. She
showed Dale her image of it with disgust. Even boiled hard and full of coffee
and sugar it was still disgusting to drink. Mrs Armstrong died near the river.
Since Aunt May drove her wagon and the baby had been with Mama so long, the
children didn’t much notice. But it was here that Mama no longer noticed when
Sarah didn’t put on her boots, and she ran barefoot on the sage brush like the
others, with little feet toughened like leather. To her that was a triumph. By
Dale’s reckoning, the children who walked out of Council Bluffs had now walked
over three hundred miles. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Near to Ash Hollow by Flynn’s description the ground
got rockier and hillier with steep bluffs rising out of the desert, and there
was very little in the way of houses or settlements around here. It took a
while to find the track in Caroline’s directions that led to the small farmhouse
bed and breakfast. Snow was lightly dusting the track and the windscreen as
they pulled into the yard, and Flynn turned off the engine. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Someone coming to meet us. This must be the owner.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">They appeared to mostly be wearing pale pink, head to
foot despite the weather. Dale watched the outline of Flynn getting out of the
car to shake hands. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Hello. Flynn O’Sullivan and Dale Aden, we’re booked
in with you for tonight.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Namaste.” The pink figure had a happy, woman’s voice
and appeared to bow before shaking hands. “We’re so pleased you’re visiting us.
I’m Angel, and Yokurte is in the garden, he’ll be along to say hello in a
while.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn came around the car, holding the door for Dale
to get out. Dale offered a hand in the general direction of the pink. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Good afternoon. I’m sorry, my vision isn’t great, I’m
having to feel my way around the-”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">He broke off as his hand touched hers, and both of
them drew breath. Then her voice warmed and radically changed tone. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Well</i>. Don’t
you have an aura and a half? My goodness. You’re not clouded at all, are you?”
Dale felt her hand pass lightly in front of his face. “You’re as clear as a
bell, what happened to your vision?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“A head injury a couple of days ago.” The sense of
energy coming off her was strong, and it was a bright energy, a warm and
relaxed one that she was using quite intentionally in the way of someone who
knew about energy. She took his hand again, and the strength of the sensation
was fascinating. She reminded Dale of Valerie, in Jackson. Or Jasper. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Your heart chakra is blazing though. And your third
eye is….. Do you work as a healer? But it isn’t just that. There are other
things aren’t there? I can feel it.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It’s a bit more complicated than that, yes.” This was
a somewhat odd question to be having with a total stranger in a front yard, but
the people who saw and got this, and who spoke the language, were rare enough
that Dale knew from Valerie, when they met they valued each other for that
understanding. It was much the same as a middle aged gay couple who valued the
time with another adult couple in a small town, something that reached over the
normal barrier between strangers, and he didn’t hesitate to respond just as
warmly. “It’s pretty much specific to the land we live on.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You work from there?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“In a manner of speaking, yes. What do you do?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Mostly I help people with relaxation and clearing
their energy.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“That he could use.” Flynn said a little pointedly.
Angel laughed. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Ah I see. A stressful few days was it? I’m delighted
to meet you both.” Angel put a hand through his arm to guide him. “So Flynn, that
must mean you’re the business man from ANZ?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale heard Flynn’s very soft sound of amusement. “No, that’s
him too.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You’d be surprised at how much the two things go
together,” Dale said apologetically. “Although it isn’t something I tell
everyone about.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I quite understand.” Angel said with sympathy, “One
of the things Yokurte and I wanted when we moved out here was to be able to
live this way all day every day. I’m very glad you were called to stay with us,
and I’m even gladder now we did decide to put you out in the pod. You’ll
appreciate the clarity out there, and it might help you with whatever your
third eye is so busy with. It’s through this way, do you have any bags to
bring? You’re our only guests, you’re going to have the whole garden to
yourselves.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">From what Dale could make out, they walked around the
side of the long, low house along paths between the sage brush and bushes.
Trees and evergreen bushes grew thickly at the back, screening out the wind,
and Dale saw the shine on a reflective surface on the ground, that after a
moment he recognised as water. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“This is the pod.” Angel said, leading him up a turn
in the path. There was a clearing in amongst the bushes and – Dale blinked,
unable to make it out. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It’s inflated.” Angel said happily. “It has its own
turbine working all the time, so the air and humidity are very pure and
soothing. Completely clear all around, so you can see the stars- oh I’m sorry,
I don’t mean to be tactless Dale. You’ll be surprised how snug it is, although there’s
hot water bottles under the bed if you want them. There’s a bathroom block just
down the path, and a fire pit to the side of your pod here, Yokurte put out logs
for you this morning, and your PA requested an evening meal so we put a basket
of provisions inside. We have a meditation meeting with some friends in Ogallala
this evening but there should be plenty in the basket to keep you both going. Do
you plan to do any walking today?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">It was an inflatable pod. Quite glad he couldn’t see
Flynn’s face since not laughing would be difficult, Dale kept quiet and let
Flynn answer that one. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“We’re interested in the pioneer history of the area.”
Flynn said, very steadily considering the circumstances. “Particularly the
wagon trains.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Well there’s California Hill, and Windlass Hill over
this way.” Angel said helpfully. “California Hill is a little way back towards
Ogallala, the view is spectacular up there and the wagon ruts are visible. And
you’ll find Windlass Hill about a mile further on up the road, that’s the Ash
Hollow park – that was the valley by the river wagon trains used to rest and
camp. There’s a car park there and a visitors centre with a small museum,
that’s nice to look around. They have some of the Neolithic finds they’ve made
in the cave, this area was occupied a very long time back.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">There were Neolithic tribes here? Having known the
geology of the area but not the palaeontology, Dale reflected on that with
interest. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It’s quite a climb if you want to go up the hill,”
Angel went on, “but it’s pretty and the energy there is lovely. It was one of
the biggest reasons we chose this farmstead to be on the doorstep of it.” She
patted Dale’s arm. “I’ll let you get settled in. Just knock at the back door if
you need anything.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“What is the house?” Dale asked when she’d left. “Is
it a farm? A smallholding?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">He heard something being unzipped and felt Flynn’s hand
cup over the top of his head, guarding it and guiding him to duck as they went
through a low doorway and a walkway, and then on to a surface that crunched
slightly underfoot. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“According to the sign by the house, it’s a yoga and
spiritual retreat. And this is an inflatable transparent bubble with a bed in
it. In a garden. On the prairie. In December. Is there any normal B&B
anywhere in Nebraska?” Flynn sounded irate. “If I ever get my hands on your
PA….”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You can’t put ANZ staff over your knee, HR would get
really snotty.” Dale pointed out. Flynn snorted. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“When they put you with a head injury in a camping pod
in mid winter…”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Caroline would have gone for whatever there was that
was quiet, still open and situated at the right spaces on the route you gave
her, we’re lucky to find anywhere open at all. How big is this bubble?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“About ten feet in circumference. Astro turf ‘carpet’,
that’s what you can feel. Double bed here – it’s very low, be careful. Complete
with beaded cushions. No curtains of any kind. Small night stand either side of
the bed and a lamp, and a basket here which I’ll guess is the food.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale felt cautiously to find the bed surface. It was
about knee height, but the mattress felt soft and deep, and there were plenty
of covers, including apparently several extremely fluffy blankets. Across the
room Flynn said explosively, </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Golden rice with nettles………<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bunny chow?</i> What the hell is….this box is labelled ‘bunny chow’. Is
there some rabbit around here that we’re supposed to feed? Hashbrown and kale
casserole…. And fruit. And bread. And jam. And water. I swear these people
don’t keep guests, they keep bloody pets!”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Well at least there isn’t room for an exercise wheel.”
Dale sat down with caution on the bed. “Since we’re out in the middle of
nowhere and it’s not going to be easy to fish, it looks like we’ll have to
manage for tonight.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Are you hungry?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">For nettles and kale casserole? Admittedly, not very. Dale
shrugged. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Possibly there’s a vending machine at the visitors
centre?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">There was a vending
machine at the visitors’ centre. The curator, who appeared thoroughly glad to
see anyone at all for company on a day like this, further offered them coffee
from the kettle in his office. Flynn, having muttered about the vending machine
largely containing junk, brought over several packets of peanuts and trail mix
which they ate with the coffee while they chatted with the curator. If his
vision had been intact Dale would have spent some time absorbing the displays in
the museum. As it was, Flynn read him the notices and described the items which
was, Dale appreciated, quite an extreme gesture on his part since Flynn and
Riley’s patience for museums was always fleeting, but Flynn seemed to be taking
this particular one quite seriously and in the book shop section he paused for
a while, leafing through several of the books. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">It was as they rounded the corner of one of the
displays that Dale saw Reid’s bright head looking closely at something in front
of him, his eyes and mouth wide. He was on tip toes, the only clear thing in
the blur. Sarah appeared beside him, looking equally shocked. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">So now Reid was here, a hundred and fifty miles from
the fort at Kearney. And Clay had been at the fort last night with Sarah. They
were travelling with her. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Gently and with care, his eyes on the children, Dale
grounded and shielded himself. And then as he had last night in the fort, he relaxed
those shields and let his body go into the state that let energy flow most
freely; both his own and his awareness of any energy touching his. Relaxed,
calm, open minded without focusing on anything in particular, without the
emotions such as curiosity or frustration or anything else that pulled his attention
and blocked connection. It meant forcibly having to let go of any
preoccupations like time and place and personal plans or anything else. It
meant being here, in the moment, not seeking any outcomes or any control, just doing
nothing but being here. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Pretty much as Jasper had very firmly told him in the
hospital a couple of days ago. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">There will
be a reason you’ve been slowed down. There is something you need to give your
attention to.</i> It was a disciplined state of mind in a very relaxed, calm
way, and it wasn’t the first firm conversation he and Jasper had had about
getting overly attached to plans and outcomes instead of letting things come in
their own time. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Like any form of discipline in Dale’s experience; no
matter how much you agreed and fully appreciated the benefits of it, in the
heat of the moment it was often not easy to settle yourself to. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Sarah,
I’d like to take this opportunity to apologise for the… about thirty two hours
of numbing out and footstomping. I’m listening. Would you like to tell me what
it is we’re doing? </span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Sarah glanced up and smiled at him. It was the same
kind of sparkling, mischievous smile Riley had when he was doing something he
knew was stepping rather close to a line and was enjoying it. And then she went
back to looking at whatever she was fascinated by. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“The children are there.” Dale murmured to Flynn. “By
the red display cabinet. What are they looking so shocked about?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn led him over. His presence didn’t seem to bother
the children in the slightest, neither child moved or even looked up. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Photographs of the wagon trains. When were
photographs invented?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“The earliest surviving photograph is 1826.” Dale said
automatically. “The Daguerreotype process was made public in 1830,” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“But if Sarah’s family had heard of them, the chances
of anyone in a small Wisconsin fishing village seeing one….?” Flynn finished
for him. “It was a fishing village, wasn’t it? She’s one of ours in that way
too.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Yes, Paul and David were both fishing town children,
and Jasper had fished from rivers all his life. The Chance river running
through the ranch was the life blood of it to the stock, and fed them year
round. It was Flynn’s voice that warmed him most. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">She’s
one of ours. </span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I didn’t know you saw it like that too.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I’m not sure I realised I did.” Flynn said thoughtfully.
“I knew that’s what it’s like to you and to Jas, I understand why. But driving
this road, seeing the distances and the terrain first hand, realising what she
saw and what her family had to do, and some of what it must have been like….
She’s a person in her own right now. Not just a name I know.”<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">David was standing by one of the cases, looking at the
pictures inside. He glanced across to Dale and smiled. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">*</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The way
Dale explained it and the museum boards described it, Windlass Hill had been
where the wagons had to make their way down off the steep hills to the river
road below. There were several choices as to where they did it; more than one
hill here bore wagon wheel track scars deep in the rock. Around the visitors’
centre were neat grey sidewalks, one that led down to an example of a sod
house, a low rock bungalow with a prairie grass roof for warmth, reflecting the
lack of wood around the desert for building homes with. Another path led down
the hill to the once inhabited cave where some of the finds in the museum had
laid until a few years after Sarah’s time. They walked slowly in the light,
dusting snow down into the protective shelter built around the rock cave, where
through glass the red cave walls and floor were low and smooth. Giving Dale
time to adjust to the low light in there, Flynn described it as best he could,
a place where eight thousand years of human history lived. Another sidewalk led
into a path through the woodland, where as snow drifted lightly down through
the trees, a fresh water spring still bubbled up in the stream, its splashing
loud enough that Dale turned towards it. Flynn held on to his hand, steadying
him as Dale crouched and reached out his other hand to find it, dipping his
fingers into what must have been icy water. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“The energy coming off this is
remarkable.” he said after a minute, shaking water off his fingers. “Very
clear.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">He’d talked before about the feel of
energy coming off bodies of fresh water; it was something Jasper was always aware
of too. “Different to the lake at Wisconsin?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Very.” Dale gripped him for support as
he got up. “This feels like the river does at home. Angel is right, the energy
here is … very pleasant.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The fresh air, the quiet and the gentle
walking was good for him. He was as relaxed now as he had been last night at
the fort, focused and interested, and with nowhere else to go today and wanting
him to have the down time, Flynn kept their pace slow but let them explore all
over the site. The snow was settling on the grass as they walked along the smooth
hiking path up Windlass Hill, and Flynn kept strong hold of Dale as they reached
the gully. The museum had explained the mechanics: wagons were lowered down the
gully with people walking on ropes, hauling to act as human brakes. Wagons regularly
ran away and crashed. There were three smashed wagons on the ranch that Flynn
knew of, where they had run off paths. At home Flynn had often hitched up the
shires to the big wagon and taken it through the crossing place and the trail
through the woods where two of those fallen wagons lay. He knew the feel of
reins in his hands from heavy beasts pulling a rolling weight over rough
ground, and it was all too easy to imagine being faced with driving them head
first down this gully. And these people didn’t just have their beasts to think
of. The wagons were all they had, the animals the only means of travel, and
their families depended on both. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“How did Sarah’s family get down here?”
he asked Dale. Dale stopped, face to the wind, then he crouched down on the
grass to duck under it. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I don’t know.” He said eventually and
somewhat ruefully. “She’s not interested in this bit, and it doesn’t matter
that we are. I think if something doesn’t spark interest or some kind of high
energy in feelings then it doesn’t create the energy needed to share it, the
light just doesn’t come on. Getting down here was an adult’s problem, not hers.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Is she here?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Yes.” Dale looked down into the green
valley that lay at the bottom. “All four of them are. But they’re heading for
the trees, where the springs are. That’s where they want to be. This was the
first fresh water they’d seen in days. Flowers, thick grass, the ash trees
after days of desert – her mother called this place the Promised Land. It was a
beautiful spot.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn crouched beside him on the grass,
looking at the ground ahead of them. The marks of the wagon wheels were cut
several feet into the rock. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“If I had to get a cart down here, I’d
be tempted to take the team off, put ropes around a tree or rock, and winch it.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“There’s another child.” Dale said it
softly, watching something down in the valley. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Another one?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“A girl. David’s down there with Sarah. I
don’t know what they’re doing, it’s as if they’re bringing them here.” He
sounded mildly exasperated; not knowing was not something he ever found easy to
accept, but from his expression – Flynn ran a hand down his back, watching his
face. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You look as if you’re enjoying
watching.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It’s hard not to.” Dale said a little
ruefully. “Sarah’s so pleased to see her.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Sarah’s age?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Younger. She’s quite small.” Dale
paused again, then shook his head, the amusement growing stronger. “This one
does want to think about the gully. There was an ox in her team. He was called Blue.
The biggest ox in their whole train. Her father called him the animal with the
most sense on the trail. Didn’t mind lightning. Never got tired. Kept the whole
team calm. No one else dared try it on this hill, but her father trusted Blue
enough to take him to the back of their wagon, rope him on and Blue walked the
wagon down backwards with him, step by step, braking it with the adults.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">There were animals Flynn knew and had
known that could be trusted like that, who understood instinctively and worked
with you in ways you couldn’t train them to if they didn’t have the insight for
themselves. Bandit was one. Leo was one. Boris, one of their shires and Flynn’s
companion with many fallen trees and the occasional broken-down vehicle, was
another. There was little greater in satisfaction than that kind of a
relationship with an exceptional animal like that. Dale was still listening to
whatever it was he was making out from the land, the air, the wind and the snow
blowing lightly around them. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Her name’s Anna.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">They walked on down the gully and across
the grass to the woods. Even in winter, the lushness of the hollow was very
different to the desert up on the hill and the prairie beyond it. It was a
picnic spot now. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale walked through the wood holding his
arm, but moving with a purposefulness that Flynn realised was him following
someone among the ash trees. Flynn kept him from walking into any obstacles,
saying nothing and waiting. Eventually Dale paused by a bank. The white,
jagged, layered rocky outcroppings were everywhere here, there was nothing to
make this one any different, but this one made a little shelter set into the
bank. Low enough for someone very small to get underneath, partially hidden.
Dale crouched slowly. Then he put his hand out and softly brushed away snow, dirt
and leaves.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I can’t see straight. Is this what I
think it is?” <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The scratching on the underside of the
rock was worn and faded, but as Flynn crouched with him to look, he saw the
letters H and n and h, still distinct. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Yes. There’s letters scratched there.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Hannah.” Dale said quietly. “Not Anna,
Hannah. She found the knife in the woods here. Her brothers had them but she
was never usually allowed to touch one, never mind play with it. She had to
keep it hidden so nobody saw it, but she carried it with her.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Her proud handiwork was still visible.
Flynn watched Dale brush the earth softly back to protect the markings. Such a
tiny thing, but no casual graffiti. This was a small, hidden message of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I was here. This was me</i>. From a small
person on the trail.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Did they have toys?” he said to Dale,
thinking about it. “What kind of possessions did they have?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Almost nothing. There wasn’t room.”
Dale said regretfully, getting up. “Not for books, furniture, clothes – things
were abandoned on the trail all the time from people who overpacked their
wagons. It was pretty much what they stood up in and food. So this, to Hannah, was
something that belonged to her. This was something wonderful, and it was all hers.”
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">As they climbed back up the hill, the
snow got slowly stronger. Flynn kept tight hold of Dale’s hand, keeping him
close until they reached the edge of the car lot. Dale glanced down into the
valley again. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Hannah?” Flynn asked him. Dale’s
expression was quizzical and more than slightly amused.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Yes. There’s five of them now. Five of
them together.” </span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“You’ve
got five of them running around? Who’s the fifth?” Riley sounded delighted by
the thought. The bubble tent was surprisingly warm. Flynn had gotten Dale out
of his shoes and jacket and sent him to lie on the bed and call home, and at
this hour of the day people at home were gathered around the fire together as
daylight was going and it was getting too cold to work. Regular trips out to
check on the stock would happen, but mostly they would be around the fire,
drinking tea, talking, playing games, the other ways that they spent time
together at this time of year when so many of them came home. The room was
sounding considerably busier and full with voices, almost everyone who would
come for Christmas had now arrived. A day ago, Dale would have been preoccupied
with the fact that they were not there, where they should be. Tonight – tonight
he lay on a bed in a bubble in Nebraska and told Riley in detail about Ash
Hollow park with the energy in his voice that meant it was occupying all of his
attention. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Listening to Dale sharing Hannah’s story
to the family listening on the other end of the phone, and it was evident Dale
was talking to quite a crowd who were listening with interest, Flynn was struck
by how right this was in some odd way. He could hear in Dale’s voice that he recognised
it too. The stories of people and places were something that Dale deeply
valued, and that made sense to Flynn. A person knew themselves by their story. He’d
spent his working life helping people unpack and listen to their own stories, consider
the words they chose, consider which of the stories that held most power for
them. People were stories. Listening, sharing, retelling, hearing someone in
their story, those were things Jasper valued too. The very act of a group sharing
in a story together was something powerful, it was something people did
together that went back to the beginning of time, particularly around the fire
on the dark nights of the year. They remembered their histories, reaffirmed
what drew them together, what they shared in. It was something that would have
taken place in the cave not far from here, eight thousand years ago, in very
much the same way. Listening to Dale talk, Flynn found himself thinking
suddenly of Philip reading A Christmas Carol in the family room at Christmas to
a large group of the family who would collect together and listen: something
he’d witnessed many times. It was a story beloved to Bear and Gerry and Roger
in particular, and Philip had had this same gift of pulling a room full of
people together with his voice, whether that was in a board room or in front of
the fire at home. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">There would be no record anywhere of Sarah
on the trail, or of the other children with her. They had been the least
important of those who travelled, just the baggage of the adult travellers,
like Blue: a remarkable animal whose name no one remembered. But Blue’s story
mattered to Hannah and to Sarah. Enough for them to find Dale and tell it to
him. And now Dale was retelling it. These children and their names and their
stories were something strong in Flynn’s mind, and they were being listened to
with real interest in the family room at home with the others who had lived on
the ranch, who knew of Sarah and the wagon ruts on their pastures, who shared
in that history. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Riley was handing the phone over to someone
else; Flynn heard a familiar voice take over, with a British accent and an
always deceptively cynical tone. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“So what did you do to yourself this
time?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Tom?” Dale demanded. Tom snorted. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“We arrived this afternoon.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“They brought me.” Wade’s voice said
with deep satisfaction. “I had a personal escort. Two very dishy and very tall
body guards. Half the heads in the place turned to look. And no one wittered
about me boozing on the plane either.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“He didn’t booze, he had a small whisky
and that was his choice, we’d have got him a bottle and a straw if he’d wanted
one.” Tom said to Dale. From the sound of it, something was thrown in Tom’s
direction, Flynn heard Luath’s voice remonstrating with them in the background.
</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Are you all right?” Tom said brusquely.
“How bad’s the vision?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It’s gradually clearing. Things are
more distinct now than they were this morning.” Dale said, and he was always
honest with Tom; this was a brat he didn’t feel the need to shelter, which made
it a relationship Flynn deeply appreciated him having. “It’s been –
interesting? – but day by day it’s getting better. I’m glad you and Jake are
home.”</span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“We were invited. It’s good to be here.”
Tom’s tone was offhand but Flynn heard the sincerity under it. The written
invitation to Tom was something he’d sent himself well over a month ago,
knowing the pleasure it gave Dale and Riley to have this man at home, and the
importance of this particular brat knowing he was wanted. And Tom was someone
who appreciated the formal recognition. Being seen mattered to everyone. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I’m not letting anyone crowd him.”
Riley said cheerfully in the background. “I’ve got it covered.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Where did you arrive from?” Dale asked.
</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Columbia. We picked up Wade on our way.
Is this inflatable bubble thing warm enough?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Yes, despite the snow. It’s amazingly
warm considering how thin it is.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“If it’s true at all, your PA is doing
this to Flynn on purpose, and I want to know who bribed her to do it, and a set
of pictures!” Miguel’s voice called from somewhere in the background. “But I
think you’re in a holiday inn and somewhere totally normal, and you’re just
winding us up.”</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Trust me, it’s really a bubble.” Flynn
said dryly. Several people laughed. Paul’s voice called something in the
background. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Paul wants to know,” Tom repeated,
“What they’re feeding you tonight?” </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“They did not feed us. They’re feeding
the animals bunny chow, it says so on the box they gave us.” Flynn said under
his breath. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Brace yourselves for this,” Dale
advised, and handed Flynn the phone. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Flynn lit the fire in the small cast iron fire
pit as dusk arrived, and they sat outside well bundled up by its warmth and the
jumping flames for a while, heating the kettle for tea and warming the food
through. The snow was falling gently but steadily, and building up on the trees
and bushes in the dark. Flynn saw Dale watching it fall, his eyes focused and
teaming. The image might be blurred but he was tracking now. They ate where
they sat, the food steaming in their hands. The ‘bunny chow’ turned out to be
curried chick peas in bread roll cups, it was far more the kind of thing that
Tom and Jake would have preferred, but Dale ate it quite willingly. Flynn tried
a few bits before sticking discreetly to the bread and jam, not to put him off.
It was hard not to think of those five children who’d eaten by campfires so
near to here, who were living on eked out dry supplies and had counted
themselves lucky to have enough to eat at all. There were several other
isolated camping units of different kinds in the garden, Flynn followed a few
of the paths to take a look, and the bathroom block, while freezing, was
immaculately clean. This was obviously a well used place in high season. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Once they’d eaten, Flynn settled them to
bed and put out the light, taking no notice of the clock standing at slightly
past seven pm. It was warm under the covers, and one of the more peculiar
experiences of his life to be laying with Dale on his chest, both of them looking
up through the transparent bubble shell into the falling snow and the dark sky
above, with a winter garden all around them. The flakes were hypnotic. It was a
long while before Dale said absently, in the same tone of voice he might have
murmured that it was snowing harder now, “Jas.”</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn looked down at him. This happened
too often to doubt it. Dale blinked, then sat up, his voice getting a lot more surprised.
</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Jas</i>.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Where?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Out there!” Dale fumbled, trying to
find his way out of the bed. Flynn held on to him, rolling to his feet. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Stop. Now, before you fall.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Not particularly surprised at all after
decades of knowing Jasper, he went to the – whatever the heck the skin of this
clear bubble was, and saw the long figure in a coat with a rucksack, walking
down the path through the snow towards him. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You’re right.” Flynn said to Dale, who
had frozen on the edge of the bed with some effort not to follow him. Flynn
went to the zipped entrance, waiting until the man approaching them reached the
door, unslung his rucksack and met his eyes with a smile that held a whole lot
of warmth. Flynn unzipped the door to let him in. Jasper shook snow off his hair,
pulled his coat off to contain more snow and hooked an arm around his neck to
give him a strong hug, kissing his cheek. He was cool, not cold. Jasper never
seemed to feel the cold much. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Well this is an interesting place.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Caroline has an evil sense of humour.”
Flynn said dryly. Jasper pulled him a little closer for a moment, his forehead
against Flynn’s. Then he passed him to sit down on the bed and gather Dale into
his arms, returning Dale’s hug. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I thought you might like a hand with
the driving. How are you?” he took Dale’s head gently between his hands,
turning up his face to look less at him than into him. Dale’s face was alight,
he was gripping Jasper’s arms as if he was trying to make sure Jasper was real.
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I’m fine, it’s slow but every few hours
I notice it’s clearer.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Good.” Jasper held his head to kiss
him, briefly and gently. He was making each movement a little slower than
usual, giving Dale time to sense and prepare for them with the sensitivity that
was so typical of this man. “Room for three in that bed?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You’d better hope.” Flynn put Jasper’s
coat out in the vestibule section and zipped it closed. “Not sure what the host
is going to think when she finds we’ve acquired a friend overnight.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“She was very sweet on the phone.”
Jasper said calmly, getting up to undress. “She said you were out hiking, and
that she was out this evening, but she gave me directions and told me where to
find the pod in the garden.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Are you hungry?” Flynn got out of his
way to cede him the small amount of floor space available. “There’s a fire pit
out there and a kettle, food – of a sort. Edible anyway,”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I ate a couple of hours back in Scott’s
Bluff with the truck driver who gave me a ride down from Casper.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You hitched all the way from home?”
Dale demanded. Jasper smiled. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I hitched and walked all the way over
these roads for years before I came to the ranch. It’s been slow, the roads are
passable but under heavy snow from the ranch down to Douglas, and the weather’s
drifting this way. Caroline gave me your list of stops so I’d know where to
find you.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I’m planning on a slow run to Casper
tomorrow.” Flynn shifted over on the bed, drawing Dale with him to make space
for Jasper to climb under the covers. The three of them fit without difficulty,
the two of them enclosing Dale between them. “One day there, then one more day
home. In daylight, after the ploughs have been through.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">*</span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">23rd
December </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>They’d
switched to American for this part of the argument, although Jean-Luc was
starting to slip in more and more French phrases as his temper slipped away.
Dale leaned on the table, speaking more clearly and a little more quietly
rather than louder, pushing his voice through the racket. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Gentlemen, may I draw your attention back to the key
matter at hand. A tripartite agreement by definition involves mutual
responsibilities; that is not negotiable. Where one party is in need, the
agreement sets out the terms and conditions relevant in ensuring protection of
the investment of all three of you, and those must be balanced, without preferential
terms for any one party, not least to manage stability of currency values
between you.” </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">So
stop whining, sit down and let’s establish the limits of your actual requirements
to protect your interests. </span></i></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The biggest challenge was to protect the interests of
all three parties, to co ordinate them together in the fairest and most honest
way possible, since that was the strongest way to keep the relationship a
successful one. He’d done the same in no few brats meetings at home, except he
infinitely preferred the yelling of a brats meeting; it was a good deal more
honest, you knew exactly where you were with it, they all played by the rules
and had the same strong principles despite the noise and the heat of the
moment, and whatever was said, they’d do the repairs afterwards with no bad
feeling. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Sarah walked past the end of the board room table. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale felt something in him lift at the sight of her. Rooms
like this and meetings like this had been his battle ground from his late teens,
and the high speed processing and intellectual challenge of the situation in
front of him was absorbing – but nothing deeper than that. Nothing stronger
than that. Nothing like what Sarah, or anything to do with the ranch, drew
straight out of him. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">He stepped away from the table and took her hand, and
they left the men arguing around the musty, coffee stinking board room and
walked out on to a snow dusted prairie. No one looked round as they left. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“What are we doing?” Dale asked politely of Sarah as
they walked. Her hand felt very small in his, quite alarmingly fragile, and yet
it held onto him strongly and led him after her. She gave him her usual,
beaming smile, skipping importantly beside him with her bare feet in the snow,
but she didn’t answer out loud. She never did. Children were hiding in the
landscape. It was an open prairie, there was nowhere to hide, and yet Dale was
aware of them. Three little boys and a little girl. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“All right?” Flynn’s voice said quietly beside him.
Dale blinked in the darkness, coming back to the blur and to a bed between
Flynn and Jasper’s warmth. He’d half sat up. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I’ve got it.” Jasper said quietly. Dale felt Jasper’s
arm cross him, reaching over to grasp Flynn’s arm, and he got up to let Dale
out of the bed. “Dale, need to find the bathroom?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Yes, good luck with getting Flynn to roll over and go
back to sleep. He’d been on what Tom would have referred to as Defcon One since
the shipyard. Dale put a sympathetic and deeply affectionate hand on Flynn’s
back as he felt Flynn roll out of bed too, immediately awake and uncomplaining.
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It’s a block at the back of beyond, down the garden.”
Dale felt a sweater put into his hands and saw the outline of Flynn pulling his
own on. “Dale, get dressed properly. There’s snow out there.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">He and Jasper were patient with his middle of the
night bathroom visits. They both understood that they were often more to do
with taking a break from sleep to let his subconscious process whatever it was
he’d picked up on more than any physical need. It was lucky they did
understand; otherwise Dale thought they’d have hauled him in front of a
urologist by now, and that would have made for an awkward conversation. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">They all three of them dressed and went out to the icy
bathroom block beyond the pond. Snow was no longer falling. There wasn’t much
more than an inch, just a sugar crust dusting on the ground and over the bushes
when Dale touched them, pure white and frozen solid in the darkness. The air
was very still, he could see their breath misted strongly as they breathed, and
the smallholding and the miles and miles of open prairie around them was
silent. The paths wound everywhere through the garden in an ornate pattern
beneath the soft beams of a few solar lights. It was a peaceful place and Dale
knew exactly what their hostess meant about ‘clarity’. The openness of the land,
the fresh water on it made the energy here very pure. And the thousands of
years of history on it filled it with energy too. Like home.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“This is a beautiful place.” Jasper said to him. He
had his arm lightly through Dale’s and Dale could feel the peace in him too. He
would be as aware of the calm energy here and the focus it created. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Ash Hollow’s that way,” Flynn said to Jasper as they
walked, exploring the paths more than purposefully going back to bed, since the
three of them were in the habit of night time wandering together outside like
this. “We saw the museum yesterday and walked the hill. They lowered the wagons
down on ropes, it’s half as steep again as the road down into Three Traders. It
would be a hell of a job walking a team down there with a rolling weight behind
them.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Who are your visitors?” Jasper asked mildly. Flynn
stopped on the path beside the pond. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You see them?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“In flashes. Small. There’s several of them. Over
there, by the gate into the pasture.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“There’s five of them.” One by one they were coming
into view. Through the blur of bushes Dale could see Reid and Hannah walking
through a flowerbed of low bushes, stooping to rub and sniff at leaves. Herbs
then. A herb bed. Jesse was walking along the top of the fence rail with his
arms outstretched, and glanced over and smiled at him. Sarah and Clay were in
the pasture beyond the garden, running in the snow although they left no trace
on its surface. “Sarah’s been collecting other children ever since we started
on the trail. These are places they knew, they’ve been enjoying themselves.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">In the pasture, Sarah turned to look at him. Dale
walked slowly down the path to the gate, leaning on it to watch her. Reid
looked up at Flynn and followed him. Hannah skipped down the path by Jasper as
they walked. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn’s arm closed around his waist, he leaned on the
gate beside Dale. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“What is she telling you about?” <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“She camped quite near to here. In the hollow. She
thought it was beautiful, they rested here two days. It was like a holiday.” Dale
paused, following the images from Sarah. They came in a rush, fragments of
things he recognised. The smell of woodsmoke, the creaking of wooden wheels
moving, a pasture soaked with dew in first light. “Most days they got up before
dawn. Cooked breakfast, hitched up the wagons. They walked all day. Stopped
around six to make camp for the night, they were too tired to do more than eat
and go to sleep. At first Sarah’s mother tried to put up the tent every night
for them to sleep in, but after a few weeks it was more than she could manage.
The weather was fine so they slept beside the wagon. Or under it. Sarah liked
that. Every day was always the same. But here they stopped and rested. In the
evening when they were here there was music every night. People had time to get
out instruments and play, they weren’t too tired. She saw the firelight and
fell asleep to them singing or telling stories. Her mother baked cookies. Although
Jesse and the other boys stole them as fast as she could make them.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Did all the children come here to Ash Hollow?” Jasper
asked him. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">It wasn’t easy to sort through the bits and pieces of
information, there were five of them sharing it at speed tonight, although the
flow from Sarah was by far the strongest, and with Jasper here it was even
stronger than usual. Clearer. “Sarah did. Jesse. Hannah. Sarah was with them
here. I don’t think Reid was. I don’t know about Clay.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“What is it they’re out here for tonight?” Flynn
sounded compassionate. “What do they want you to see?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Nothing. They’re just playing. That’s all.” Dale
watched Reid and Hannah run out into the pasture to join the others. Playing.
The kind of messing around, throw and catch games that broke out on the ranch
between them. Dale understood it from the heart, how it felt to be silly and to
mess around with people you loved. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“And it’s about us.” He added to Flynn, since here in
the clarity of this place he understood it clearly from the children. “What
they want us to see. Not just me. A lot of why they’re here tonight is you. Sarah’s
always liked you, but you remind Hannah of her father. He had your gift with
animals, the same kind of friendships with them. Jesse sees you as like them. One
of them. ‘Another farmer’s brat’. That’s the phrase he thinks. And Reid – they
just like being out here with you. It’s like the foals at home when you walk
through the pasture.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Their foals knew the steady energy that emanated from
Flynn, that cared about everything and everyone, that calmed and kept the world
stable for you. They knew it at gut level the same way Dale and Riley did. It
was the energy every animal on their ranch responded to, that made every horse
come straight to his hand, and made the foals trail him as he worked. A
practical man who had grown up running stock and crossing vast, rough and wild
ground to do it. The children were drawn to him. Dale swallowed on a rush of
fierce pride. Of course they were drawn to this man. Who wouldn’t be? </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Well that’s poleaxed him.” Jasper said comfortably,
lounging on the gate with them. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“The trail was exciting,” Dale said, slowly since it
took time to turn things into words and interpret accurately, with the nuances
the children meant, even though he understood this one from the heart. “It was one
long adventure which was – not always easy. They want to be here, they want to
see it again. You make it easier. You make them feel safe.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Flynn
went on strike regarding bunny chow for breakfast. He lit the fire outside once
they had the snow off it, and Jasper and Dale ate what was left of the food,
leaving Flynn to toast bread and finish the jam. Tom would have made acerbic
comments about Top qualifications and diet. The outline of a stocky man in
brightly coloured clothes passed them taking an armful of logs towards the
house and waved. That was no doubt Yokurte. Angel followed with more logs and
paused to talk to them; she appeared to be in highly drapy green garments today
from what Dale could make out, which looked inadequate for an inch of snow
frozen hard on the ground. She nearly floated through the garden, as if she
barely touched the ground. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You found us all right?” she said happily to Jasper,
adding the logs to their pile. “How do you do?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Nice to meet you.” Jasper shook hands. “I’m sorry
we’re here in midwinter, I’d like to see your organisation when it’s busy with
clients.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You take clients yourself?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“We all do as a group, but in a different way. One at
a time, resident with us.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Angel put a hand through Dale’s arm, joining him
beside the fire. “So there’s two of you with interesting energy.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Actually there’s five of us.” Dale said with no
intention of explaining that in depth. “With somewhat of a team approach,
different specialisms, a mosaic and multi disciplinary -”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn’s hand slid down and patted him discreetly on
the seat of his jeans in a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">stop teasing
people</i> kind of a way. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Well you can’t argue that it isn’t?” Dale pointed
out. The pat this time was firmer. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Thanks for having us here Angel, it’s been a real
experience. We’ll be on the road once it’s defrosted a bit.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“What comes off you is very interesting.” Angel said
to Dale. “Did you see the light orbs in the garden last night when the three of
you were out walking? I’m sorry, I really wasn’t spying, I don’t sleep much and
my studio looks out over the garden. They were so beautiful. It was lovely to
see them, I’ve never seen one that clearly never mind so many. Do those orbs
happen for you a lot?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I don’t usually see orbs, no.” Dale said with perfect
truth. “It tends to be people.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You’re – kind of an energy focuser, aren’t you?”
Angel said thoughtfully. “No, maybe ‘energy freer’ would work better? You
contain and release it. Unclutter it. Get it moving in the right direction.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Usually I kind of hold energy in place so that more
competent people can work with it. I’m a trouble shooter by career.” It tended
to be a range of troubles from temperamentally unstable French bureaucrats,
brats, Whats, horses and sheep, but it was accurate. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You said it was specific to the land you live on?”
Angel asked him. Dale smiled. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Yes. Specific to the place and the people there.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You have a private practice.” Angel said with
understanding. “That’s lovely. I wish you well with it, it’s been lovely to
meet you all. There is one thing I’d like to do before you leave if I may?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">She moved past Dale. Dale saw the blurred figure of
her put her hands on Flynn, firmly turn him around and then her hands gently rested
on his shoulders. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You’re carrying a lot of stress. How sore is your
back?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You won’t get him to admit it,” Jasper said dryly.
Flynn grunted. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“He’s exaggerating. It’s just too many nights in
strange beds.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">And
driving hundreds of miles, and managing me.</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"> More than
slightly guilty, Dale watched her work. The energy around her hands was bright,
the flare was visible in the blur. Then she patted Flynn and let him go. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“See how that goes. Have a safe journey.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Despite
Jasper being there, Flynn still drove. When the roads were bad, he always did;
it wasn’t a responsibility he’d hand off to any of them, and Jasper didn’t
argue with him, but having his company in the car, just his being there, was
good. The road was salted, the asphalt clear although snow covered the grass
and the prairie on either side. It was a bright day, the sky was grey but
crisp, and the air was still, and they drove at a slow, steady pace for the
first hour or two. Then Jasper leaned forward from the back seat and touched
Flynn’s shoulder. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Turn up there.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">It was an unsalted road, Dale felt the difference
beneath the tyres, but they were used to snow and ice driving in the winter,
the snow was only an inch or so deeper this further west, and the four by four
could take it. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Where is this?” Dale said to Jasper, who was leaning
forward to see. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“A visitor centre. There’s a parking lot up here.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You’ve been up here before?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I walked up a few times when I was travelling this
road.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">It was possible to look out of the window today
without images becoming too blurred and confused to bear. There still wasn’t
much detail, but he could recognise the sweater Jasper wore, and see the
outline and shapes of text on the road signs. There was no one else in the car
lot. Flynn parked, and Jasper handed them their coats, holding out a hand to
Dale. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Come look at this.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">There was a grey building housing the visitor’s
centre, but Dale’s eyes went straight to what was beyond it. A spire of rock
across the snowy prairie, disappearing up into the sky. Standing there with
Jasper’s hands on his shoulders, he recognised the distinctive shape
immediately. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Chimney Rock.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">It was one of the most well-known landmarks of the Oregon
trail. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">They passed through
Scotts Bluff. The next primary stopping point for wagons in Sarah’s day was Fort
Laramie on the banks of the river. The town of Laramie itself was busy, chaotic
with the Christmas shopping rush. Flynn took the car through a coffee drive-through
where they got sandwiches and coffee, and they parked in the snowy car lot at
what remained of the fort. In its heyday, decades after Sarah’s visit, it had
been a military reservation nine miles long and six miles wide, the largest and
best-known fort on the Northern Plains. In Sarah’s time it had been a small fur
traders post, known as Fort John, the resting point at the beginning of the
long climb up through the foothills to South Pass through the Wyoming
mountains. Casper did not yet exist, and the US Army wouldn’t start to protect
and provide a presence for emigrants on the trail for another year. There was
nothing between here and Wind River but the trail. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Now it was a preserved historical site of standing
buildings and standing ruins on the open plains. It was quiet today, only few
people were visiting and wading through the several inches of snow on the
ground, but the three of them were used to being outside in all weathers and
dressing for it. Sipping coffee as they walked, they made the slow tour of the
fort, along the streets of remaining buildings. The buildings housed rooms set
up as they would have been mostly long after Sarah’s time when the military
were here; the barrack with its line of grey blanketed soldiers’ beds and blue uniform
hung on the walls, the guard house, the traders’ store with jars of coffee,
candles and furs, the officers’ dining room and the bedroom and the military
artefacts were interesting enough, but all the time it was in Dale’s mind that
they were nothing connected to her. In one of the downstairs stone rooms stood
a wagon without canvas, just the wooden frame on its wheels. Flynn paused
there, looking in detail at the size. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Such a small thing,” he said eventually. “To take all
that load all that way. A whole family relying on one of those and the stock
that pulled it. Are the children here?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I haven’t seen them yet today.” Dale looked with him
at the wagon. “But then none of these buildings were here in Sarah’s time. She
wouldn’t recognise it, the fort she knew is long gone.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“What were you meaning this morning about holding
energy still?” Jasper was leaning against the wall near them, looking at the
carts in the room through the bars. There was only them here. Dale put a hand
out to hold the rails, thinking about it. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You know the way things work with David. He has a
connection to me. He can find me, and I’m the one in the here and now, so if
I’m aware of someone stuck I hold the connection in place and he can reach
through to them.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Since
the first one. Since Roger. </span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Jasper and Flynn had been
with him that first time. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“So what do you think is happening with the children?”
Jasper asked him. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale shook his head. “I don’t know for sure.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Your best guess?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“The best hypothesis I have so far… Sarah has the
connection to me. It’s as if visitors have a kind of inner picture or feeling
of the places they go to or the people they like to be with. As if it’s a code
or a signal they can home in on when they want to. That’s how Sarah was able to
be in Wisconsin with us. I was there, and she was interested in the place. Now
we’re on a route she knows she seems to be using me standing in a place as a
focus, and then David to reach whoever it is she wants to connect to that she
knew in those places. Clay. Jesse. Hannah. Now they’ve found the signal for
each other it seems as if they can find each other at will. David’s been more
than happy to help her. I think she wanted to find the children she met on the trail.
The ones that meant the most to her.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“What about Reid?” Flynn asked. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Reid was just visiting the fort. I saw him and drew
Sarah and David’s attention to him. I was worried about him.” Dale smiled,
thinking about it. “Sarah adopted him. He doesn’t seem to mind. He doesn’t have
to be here with them and the other children.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn folded his arms, eyes still on the wagon. “None
of them survived the trail, did they? Every one of them means a family that put
their heart into this, took one of these wagons all this way over hard ground,
and they lost their child doing it.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn and Jasper were standing quite close and Dale
saw the movement of Jasper’s arm, the hand that brushed Flynn’s back. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“About a fifth of the people that came down the trail
were children.” Dale said softly, hearing the tone in Flynn’s voice. “The
statistics are that about one in ten of the population who travelled didn’t
make it, and children were vulnerable to accidents. Illness. Cholera around the
Platte river because of the number of people washing and swimming and grazing
animals there.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Do you know what happened to Sarah’s four?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“No. Not at all. To most people I meet, it was a few
minutes in the whole picture of their life and they weren’t interesting
minutes. Their energy goes to what sparks more energy, the things they want to
share.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Like watching stock break out of a pen and run all
over a road.” Flynn said to the iron railings in front of them. “Or setting a
fence on fire and putting it out without getting caught. Or having a knife that
was all yours. The brightest moments of memory.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Yes.” That was something Dale had learned himself,
slowly and with patient help from this man to understand it. “That’s where the
strong energy is for them as much as anyone else. You say it to me. The good
memories matter.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn put a hand down to find his, winding his fingers
through Dale’s and the three of them stood there together by the reconstructed
wagon. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“What about Reid?” he asked after a while. “What does
he remember?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The one who had possibly been alone at the fort. Of
course he would be the one that concerned Flynn the most; he cared about anyone
in difficulty or a vulnerable situation. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I don’t know.” Dale admitted. “It’s kind of Philip’s
rules. They either choose to tell you themselves, or it’s on a need to know
basis. Idle curiosity isn’t exactly…. Polite. It isn’t about me and what I’d
like to know. No matter how frustrating that might be.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“There was a sign for the original fort Sarah would
have known.” Jasper led the way out into the soft, slow fall of a few drifting
flakes from a grey sky. “Across the parade ground.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">There were no remains left of the building that had
once been the source of so many people’s comings and going here. Near to the
Laramie river, Fort John as it had been in Sarah’s time, had long since fallen
down and given way to the more modern buildings around it, and the officers’
quarters now sat partially on the site. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">In front of the fort had been an encampment of tents
of traders of all kinds. Three or four times a year it was hugely swelled by native
American traders, who came to barters for dry goods. Furs and hides, beads and
flour, sugar and beans, coffee and leather. The noise and the smells and the
tents had spread out so far in all directions, with many feet always moving
between them in the grass, the big cannon on the front tower of the fort pointing
outwards, and the endless herds of animals picketed and gathered and corralled
while people camped. Their wagons were a long way up river, some walk from the
fort since the camp was so big. Mama washed their clothes by the river, and at
night as she lay under the wagon in her roll of bedding, the singing and the
noise was loud and came from close by the newly built fort walls with the big
black cannon on the front. Little girls didn’t go into forts.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“There was a camp here by the fort walls.” Dale said
aloud as they walked slowly on towards the river. “It was enormous at times of
the year when Shoshone people were here trading. Sarah’s father bought supplies
here. Coffee. Flour. He bought her mother some carved beads, for her birthday.
Blue beads on a leather string. Sarah thought they were beautiful.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Sarah stooped in front of him to touch a flower in the
grass, as though in her mind she picked it. Jesse slowly faded into view on the
bank, his arms folded on his knees as he crouched, watching the snow floating
down on the water. Clay and Hannah were walking hand in hand towards him. Dale
looked for Reid, moving unhurriedly and with care. There. A little way behind
them, and mostly behind Flynn. Trailing them. Not good with children, Dale gave
him a cautious smile. Reid’s face didn’t change and he ducked a little further
back behind Flynn. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">That was always a safe place to be. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">David was standing on the river bank some way off from
the children, his hands in his pockets and his back to the water, surveying the
remaining fort buildings. This place had been deserted and derelict for forty
years when he first came to their lands. It was only Sarah among the Falls
Chance people who had ever known it, for a few days one summer. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">*</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Their hotel
was a large and expensive one in the shape of a wooden Swiss ski lodge, and the
car lot was far busier than Flynn liked the look of, considering Dale’s situation.
On the other side of the car, Jasper held the door for Dale, helping him into
his coat as he climbed out. Flynn could see him taking in the numbers of cars
as he looked around with equal reserve. If it hadn’t been snowing and freezing
cold out here, Flynn would have left them both to wait in the car lot while he
checked it out. They crossed the lot to the blasting warmth of the front door.
The lobby inside was heavily Christmassed. Flashing lights and jingling music
confronted them from an over decorated tree. Dale instinctively closed his
eyes, he couldn’t quite disguise the flinch away. Getting less impressed by the
second with this place, Flynn took his shoulders and steered him fast past it
and through the second doorway into reception, reminded of precisely why he
hated bloody cities. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Christmas decorations and skiing appeared
to be a heavy theme of the entire place. The lobby was noisily chock full of
people seated on the couches around the tables, drinking coffee beneath
multiple tv screens and large wall hung photographs of people ski boarding. The
entire ground floor appeared to be some kind of cafe. Walking between the
several artificial trees, Dale paused to get his bearings, intentionally
straightening his shoulders in the way he had whenever he set his jaw and his
mind to do something difficult. Flynn suspected it was harder for him to walk
when he could see but not process at speed than it had been when he could make
out nothing at all. Flynn slowed with him, standing to block him from being
trodden on by passers-by with coffee trays and numerous small children who were
running around. Jasper headed straight for the reception desk. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">An animatronic group of king penguins
were flapping slowly on a display beside it. Two had toppled over and were
flapping on their sides. One at the back appeared to be trying to run away. Flynn
didn’t blame it. Small children crashed in and out of a soft play area on the
other side, engaged in play that involved a lot of shouting, random violence
and small coloured balls. Flynn caught one that flew near Dale, laying it down on
the reception desk while stifling mild homicidal desires and the urge to get
Dale the hell out of here. Except that finding another and quieter hotel with a
room in a city the day before Christmas Eve was going to be unlikely, and Dale
had already travelled as far as he needed to today. Jasper moved calmly,
drawing Dale in between them to shield him from any further missiles. Flynn
herded them both to the furthest and quietest part of the reception area. There
was no one behind the desk of course. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Think it’s worth looking for an
alternative to this madhouse?” Flynn muttered to Jasper. He snagged another
flying ball before it got near Dale, giving a hard stare to the parent of the
ball lobber to suggest that they might like to consider doing some parenting.
Jasper leaned on the desk, lifting his voice to reach the open office door. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Good afternoon, could we have some help
please.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">He was using the pleasant but level tone
that tended to get Riley and Dale’s attention fast. It worked on hotel staff
too. The person who came out of the office was wearing a ski suit with a pair
of neon orange boxer shorts over the top, had long blond hair and looked about
seventeen. He grinned at them, turning around a computer screen for Jasper. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Hey dude. You’re the ANZ party, right? Sign
in there.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Are you this busy upstairs too?” Flynn said
shortly. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Nah this is just a Christmas party
going on, the local ski club.” The teenager assured him. “It’s cool, you get a
free grappa. Come on down and join us once you’ve dropped your stuff in your room.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Not under any circumstances. Jasper
signed them in rapidly and accepted a card which appeared to be all they were
going to get in the way of a key. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Upstairs, to your left, the front
room.” The teenager told him, raising his voice as several people began to sing
along with one of the big tvs. “Have a really cool stay.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">What exactly a ‘cool stay’ involved, he
didn’t specify. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn moved Dale fast out of the
reception area and up the wide stairs. Once they reached the first landing the
noise thankfully faded away behind them. Jasper dropped the card in the door
lock and opened it, and Flynn guided Dale inside, into relative silence. He was
pale and he was walking stiffly. That was by far the noisiest and busiest place
they’d encountered since he left the hospital, and the last thing he’d needed
to be exposed to. Flynn peeled him out of his coat, dropped into the deep, two
seater couch by the window, and pulled Dale down into his lap.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Breathe.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The reminder made him draw a deeper
breath, releasing some of the tension. Flynn hugged him, talking very quietly
against his ear. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I’m sorry about that. Are you all
right?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Yes. Just a bit nauseous. That was …
worse than I expected.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Across the room, Jasper found a kettle
on a hot drinks stand and switched it on. Flynn reached down to pull Dale’s
snow damp shoes off, helping him lay down so he was half on Flynn and half on
the couch. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“We knew noise was a bad idea, you’ve
been doing fine so long as we stay away from it. There isn’t anything to worry
about. We won’t go out again today.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I’ll be fine in a minute.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Do we need to talk about bullshit?”
Flynn said shortly. He saw Dale’s faint smile. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“No. Really not.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“In this weather we’re going to be staying
up here anyway.” Jasper said calmly. “I’ll walk down the street and find some
take out later.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">About the whole of the wall of the room
was window, which probably was fine when it looked out onto a snowy
mountainside in a ski lodge. In down town Casper, looking out over the snowy city
wasn’t quite so effective. A pair of antler horns hung on the wall above a
couple of cream armchairs, and a very large king sized bed was covered with a
fake fur blanket. Beyond the window the snow was getting heavier and it was
already getting dark despite being mid afternoon. Jasper poured tea, bringing
three mugs across to the low coffee table by the couch. He took a seat on the
floor, his back against the couch beside them. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“There’s a mug here, Dale. It’s
chamomile tea, that’s what they had.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">At least it was hot and comforting. In
Flynn’s pocket, his phone buzzed. Flynn pulled it out and raised his eyebrows
at the unfamiliar number on the screen. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Hello?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Flynn, it’s Annie Aden.” A British
woman’s voice said apologetically, and it was a voice Flynn knew from a number
of phone calls through the past year. “We’re sorry to bother you, Paul gave me
your number, he said you wouldn’t mind us calling- he told us about you and
Dale stranded out on the road. There isn’t anything we can practically do, we
know, but-”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“There really is.” Flynn said with real
appreciation. “Your timing is perfect. We just arrived at a hotel with total
chaos going on downstairs, it’s made him feel awful and he could really use
some time with you. Dale, it’s your grandmother.” <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">He saw the conflict in Dale’s face,
somewhere between shock, alarm and pleasure. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Yes, kid. Talk to them for once with the safety catch right off.</span></i><span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"> Flynn put the phone in his hand, leaning back to hold him as he
damn well needed to be held, and saw Jasper’s casually draped arm on the couch
that happened to rest over Dale’s knee. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">It had become something of a Sunday
evening habit every few weeks that either Dale rang them, or they rang him, and
they talked for twenty minutes or so, in addition to the emails they exchanged.
Listening into the conversations or occasionally glancing through the emails
they sent, Flynn saw how much the Adens valued the ordinary odds and ends of
knowing Dale. They put the same effort and care into him that Riley put into
building trust with a nervous horse, never pushing too far, always respecting
his pace. This stray grandson of theirs, the remaining link to their son, really
mattered to them and Dale, in a reserved and cautious way they never saw with
any family member of the ranch’s, liked them. Paul, who had met them with Dale
last Christmas, liked them too, and he, Flynn and Jasper quietly did everything
they could to nurture and support the link. Riley, although they’d never said a
word to him about it, simply picked up the phone to them and chatted with the
same friendliness he extended to everyone, and he probably talked to them the
most apart from Dale. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Talking to them when he was vulnerable,
not in full control of himself, was not easy for Dale but Flynn could hear
Annie was concerned enough to be a little less careful with him than she
usually was, and she was extracting information from him gently but quite
effectively. Dale was describing the hospital in Wisconsin right now, and Annie
was far more interested in Dale’s experience of it than in just the facts. They
talked for about half an hour while Jasper and Flynn lounged with him on the
couch, by which time Annie knew about the couple running the German B&B,
about Angel and her transparent bubble and all about the lobby downstairs, and
Richard, who knew how to get Dale talking on subjects he was interested in, had
got a description of the main features of the trails and of Fort Laramie. And they
both had him talking a little quietly but freely; Flynn could feel the ease in
his body. As they said goodbye, Flynn put a hand down to ask Dale for the phone.
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Thanks, Annie. He really needed that.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I hope it’s an easy journey home
tomorrow,” Annie said gently, “have a lovely Christmas, Flynn. Safe driving.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“When are you going to invite them to
stay?” Jasper said to Dale as Flynn put the phone away. Dale shook his head. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“They’re a little elderly for a flight
that long.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You took James and Niall that far last
year and they’re older?” Jasper reminded him. Dale looked slightly shocked. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Yes, but… I doubt they’d want to?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“The first question is, do <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i> want to.” Jasper put a hand out to
ruffle his hair. “Start from there. I’m going to go find us something to eat.” <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Flynn hustled Dale through a bath while
he was gone, and about forty minutes later Jasper returned with a bag of three
double burgers, a cup of fries half of which occupied the bottom of the bag,
and three shakes which Jasper-style contained a large amount of stirred in
syrups in various flavours. They passed those around between themselves,
sprawled out on the bed together, and shared the phone to home where the family
room was full of people sharing a buffet around the fire. Bear’s deep voice
answered the phone, and the first thing he demanded was: “Seen any more of the
kids?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">So in different parts of the state, they
lay there together and Dale told them about the children in the snowy pasture
before dawn, and by the river at the fort. He had to re tell quite a lot of it
for the benefit of the newly arrived members of the family who had missed out
on the earlier parts of the story, and go into detail for James, whose interest
in American history was both personal and professional, and who with Niall had
been to Casper Fort and to Chimney rock and hiked all around the area thirty
years ago. Between the two of them they had questions it took both Dale and
Jasper to answer on the road and the changes. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">When they said goodnight to the large
crew on the ranch they lay in silence on the king sized bed in front of the
picture window and watched it get dark over Casper city, with the snow whirling
down outside of the glass. Dale fell asleep between them, dark head on his arm.
The indefinable kind of reserve that came to his face when they were away on a
work project – and Paul saw it too when he was away with Dale – had faded, now
they were near to home. He looked himself again. Younger, livelier, happier.
Flynn ran his fingers slowly through Dale’s hair, smoothing it back from his
face, propped on one elbow alongside him. Jasper’s arm was slung over Dale’s
hip on Dale’s other side, his head against one of the hefty pillows, his dark
eyes warm. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“How sore is the back now? We’re good
here if you want to get a bath and take a break. You’ve been wrangling all this
and a bunch of What Kids for a week.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I’ve been grateful for the kids.” Flynn
said wryly. “Following them and the trail has kept him busy since we reached
Council Bluffs, they’ve kept his mind right off everything else.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I thought the route history might help.
I didn’t expect the What activity to be much more than a few wheels rumbling,
even for Dale. There are so many roads and tourists through there won’t be much
left of anyone else’s energy, but I was reckoning without Sarah.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You’ve seen Sarah?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Jasper gave him a quiet nod. “A couple
of times. Mostly glimpses in the woods at home.”<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">*</span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">24th
December </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">They left the swiss chalet hotel early, shortly before
seven am while the light was still coming up outside. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The ploughs had been through overnight, the roads were
salted and clear, and more or less empty at this hour, although the snow was piled
high by the side of the road. The sky was grey but clear and dry, a drive thru
was open for coffee and muffins, and at a steady, careful pace they took the
last leg of the journey out of Casper, first to Shoshone and through the
reservation. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The snow piles by the sides of the road grew steadily
higher as the territory around them began to look more and more like home. The landscape
became rockier, steeper and undulating as they moved towards the mountains. Long
stretches of open land were white instead of green, but to Dale it was familiar
and wonderful. It was a little after eleven am when they turned into the drive
way under the snow capped wooden sign that read Falls Chance Ranch. Someone had
been down the track with their own plough this morning; it was newly cleared.
Flynn bumped slowly over the snow track, until the paddocks came into view and
horses in thick coats began to come to the fence to watch them pass. Hired cars
were parked in a line clustered along the paddocks, the sign the house was
busy. And then Flynn turned the car into the yard and hit the horn, the corral
horses came to lean over the rail, and several people appeared from the house,
running down the steps. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale unfastened his seat belt, got out of the car into
the familiarity of the yard and Riley reached him first, catching him strongly
but far more gently than he usually would. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Finally! Some ‘in and out’ that was.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It wasn’t the plan.” Dale admitted, hugging him hard.
Riley’s face and hands were cold, he was obviously fresh from work and he would
have started early this morning, and having been missing him for days it was difficult
to let him go. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“What can you see?” Riley grabbed his head gently
between his hands, looking hard at his face. “How bad is it now?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Ri, take it gently and don’t hassle him.” Jasper put
an arm around Riley’s waist, dropping a kiss on his cheek, and went on to Paul
who was waiting at the foot of the steps. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I can see you, I can see pretty much everything
except reading print, I could make out the road signs this morning. It’s almost
gone, it’s fine.” Dale grasped Riley’s wrists, letting him look. Riley gently
touched the healing graze on his forehead. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It’s so small to have caused all this.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It’s over now. Anyone left to collect today?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Nope, we’re done. Everyone came ahead of the weather,
we’ve had a full house since yesterday afternoon. We were just waiting for you
before we went to get the tree this morning.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You’re not dragging Dale out into the woods through
heavy snow.” Flynn said definitely, hugging Riley tight enough to lift him off
his feet. “Hey halfpint. We’re keeping the house quiet and the racket to a
minimum, he isn’t up to it.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Has he been like this the whole time?” Riley demanded
of Dale, but he hugged Flynn hard, both arms locked around his neck. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Several people were pulling their bags out of the
trunk. Dale recognised Bear and Jake among them, but tactfully they were hanging
back, letting the five of them have a few minutes between themselves and Dale
appreciated it. Paul met Dale’s eyes as Dale looked for him, and held out his
arms. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The fire was blazing in
the hearth in the family room, and was well built up with thick logs that would
take all day to burn. In Paul’s lap, since Paul clearly didn’t plan to let him go
any time soon, Dale held on to him and drank tea, blessedly proper tea. Across
from them, Gerry was perched on the arm of the sofa beside Ash, and Theo was on
the arm of the armchair Bear was occupying since if they tried it the other way
around the chair tipped over. Luath was on the couch with Ash. Darcy was
sitting on the hearth beside Jasper, who had pulled Riley into his lap, his
arms folded around Riley’s waist. The older members of the family were gathered
in their usual favourite place, the study, and were tactfully staying out of
the way, and more of the family, led by Peter, had taken over the morning stock
work in unusual numbers, apparently keen for a walk in the snow. From the
unusually calm and peaceful atmosphere in the house, Dale would have been
prepared to hazard a guess that the Tops had banded together this morning and
established some firm ground rules about noise. Jake leaned on the back of the
couch behind them, and Tom, dressed as Jake was in lined pants and a soft shell
fleece sweater, cold weather gear that said they’d spent plenty of time outside
this morning and planned to spend a good deal more there yet, took a seat at
the far end of the hearth, giving Dale a brief and very private nod with his
dark eyes.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Good
morning. </span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Hello.
</span></i></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You’re tired.” Paul rubbed a hand down Dale’s arm,
watching his face which he was doing a lot. “What was the Casper hotel like?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Loud.” Flynn said shortly. Having put the hired car
out of the way in the line with the others, and taken a quick look around the
corral at the horses and the pasture to check on the stock, his cheek bones
were wind chilled scarlet and he took a seat next to Paul, wrapping his hands around
a cup of tea. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Only downstairs.” Jasper corrected. “We were fine up
in the room, the bed was comfortable, and we left before it had a chance to get
loud again this morning. There was some kind of party going on downstairs when
we arrived yesterday, it was more than we needed to handle.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“If you’d have let me hike out with you,” Riley
grumbled at him, “You’d have had more pairs of hands to help,”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“And it would have been louder and busier.” Flynn
finished for him. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You’re no fun.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“On iced roads in heavy snow, no.” <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Is anyone coming to get this tree?” Bear inquired.
Jasper got up, taking Riley with him. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“We are. Ri, let’s get Boris.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“If we don’t take all three of them Petra’s going to
sulk.” Riley warned him. “She loves making this trip. Dale, coming?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“No.” Paul said with finality, over the top of Flynn’s
equally definite “No.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I’m coming.” Darcy got up and Luath joined him. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Me too. Jake?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“We’re in.” Jake held out a hand to Tom. Someone had
tipped off the group in the study; men were starting to gather in a large crowd
in the kitchen to sort out coats and boots. Tom got up off the hearth a little
warily. This was the house very full of family and the first time he’d ever
handled this much of them at once. And the first time he’d ever been here for
Christmas. Dale thought it was likely the first time he’d been in any home for
Christmas in his entire adult life. The whites of his eyes were visible, but he
leaned abruptly over the back of the couch and roughly kissed Dale’s cheek. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“<i><span style="color: #222222; margin: 0px;">Audentes Fortuna </span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">iuvat</i>.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Ignis
aurum probat.”</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"> Dale advised him. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Tom gave him a brief grin, taking Jake’s hand. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Quae semper</i>.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Finish that tea and come have a bath.” Paul said to
Dale. “I want you properly warm and wearing something a lot more comfortable,
and then you’re taking the rest of today very easy. Flynn, are you treeing?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“No, a bath sounds good to me too.” Flynn drained his
own mug and took Dale’s empty one. “We’ve been kicking around hotel rooms for
days, I want a wash in something that isn’t a barrel or a frozen bathroom block
on the prairie.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">It was the first year since he’d come to the ranch
that Dale had seen Flynn not head out with the party to cut the tree. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I’m fine with Paul,” he said to Flynn, “I could find
my way around the house with no vision at all and it’s not as if I’m going to get
two minutes on my own to get into difficulties anyway,”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Too right you’re not,” Paul agreed cheerfully. “I
haven’t seen you in a week.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“And you love getting the tree. If I can’t go then you
should. It’s important.”</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Other people have that covered for us this morning. I
trust them.” Flynn stooped down and kissed him, firmly. “We’ll manage.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>A
long soak in the bath, after which Paul refused to let him put on anything
except pyjamas and a sweatshirt which confirmed exactly how Paul planned on him
spending the rest of the day, did leave Dale feeling considerably more human. By
the time Paul settled him on the couch with another mug of tea and a plate of
the running buffet that was occupying the kitchen and feeding the large amounts
of men gathered in the house, Bear was setting up a very large tree by the
fireplace with Jasper’s help, and Gerry, Darcy and Niall together were gently
unwrapping and laying out the decorations from their box under the attic
stairs. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">They decorated the tree together, or rather a small
crowd did with critical commentary from those watching about exactly where each
piece was positioned. It was a ritual Dale loved, from each individual ornament,
particularly the ones David had carved, to the teasing and cheerful bickering
about the position of each one and the aesthetic effect of it all. Flynn handed
Dale the paper bag from the fair at Fort Kearney, and Paul helped unwrap the
clove balls and the twig stars with delight, adding them to the tree. When it
was decorated, Flynn turned out the lights in the family room and Paul lit the
many candles along the mantel and around the hearth in amongst the swathes of
greenery there, and the room took on a gentle, easy light that was softer on
the eyes. They were keeping the house unusually quiet, this evening was far
calmer than usual when the family got together. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">They gathered around the family room – and study and
kitchen and a few hardy souls were out on the porch by the Christmas lights in
the snow – awaiting the evening broadcast of the carol service from Kings
College, and Dale saw Riley take out something rolled from under the coffee
table and lay it out. He knelt in front of it by Dale, and Gerry, coming to
help him, took a couple of logs from the log basket to hold the edges down. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I know you can’t read this,” Riley said to Dale,
“Don’t try and strain your eyes, this is a map of the Oregon trail. Niall and
Darcy sketched it out from what you told us about it and from the books in the
study – they did a beautiful job, Darce draws like an artist.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Thank you.” Darcy took a seat on the floor beside
him, putting several pencils down on the paper. “It’s all the drawing out of
stage designs. We were trying to mark out Sarah’s route, but there’s a lot of
gaps.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Do you know where she started from?” Gerry said
hopefully. “We have this kind of space over here marked ‘Wisconsin’ but it
seems a bit vague in a ‘here be dragons’ kind of a way.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Green Bay.” Dale resisted the urge to squint at the
map and make some of it out. “Start from Green Bay. Then come south and south
west to Council Bluffs, that’s where they joined the trail itself.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“And Council Bluffs is where she showed you Clay.”
Bear brought a plate over to sit on the hearth stone near Gerry. A small crowd
of family was assembling around the map. “That’s the supply town.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Don’t look so shocked, darling.” Gerry said gently to
Dale. “We’ve all of us known Sarah, long before you found out her name for us.
Niall and Wade knew where her wagon was when they were younger than any of us
are now, she’s always been part of the ranch. Philip and David would have loved
to have known this stuff as much as we do.”</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Green Bay.” Darcy was sketching carefully. “Although
I’m guessing some kind of fishing hamlet on the lake rather than the town
itself.”</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Yes, the town wasn’t there yet. The trail starts
officially from Independence, Missouri, and comes up through Kansas into
Nebraska. Sarah’s family came down through what would have been the Minnesota
territory to reach it at Council Bluffs. Then from there, through the good
ground to Fort Kearney. The desert starts there. trail follows the Platte River
across the plains, the points where they crossed the river were important. Most
of time her family just forded it with their train, but up by Fort Laramie
she’d have seen the first of the ferries operating.”</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“And Fort Kearney is where Sarah knew Jesse.”</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Yes. I think he was probably with her train. I don’t
know if he started out with them or joined them on the way, or who he belonged
to.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“And Reid.” Riley added. “Poor kid, the one hanging
around the fort. Then Fort Kearney to Ash Hollow. The steep drop to lower the
wagons down and the fresh water springs. That’s where Hannah was.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“And Ash Hollow to Fort Laramie.” Niall knelt stiffly
on the other side of the table, taking up another pencil. “Which wasn’t Fort
Laramie, but Fort John at the time, and right on the curve of the river here. I’ve
seen sketches of it. Then the steep way up towards Shoshoni and on to us, and
Three Traders.” </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">And as she left Three Traders, just before the
crossing place at the river, a wagon had fallen and Sarah’s journey had ended.
No one said it but it hung in the air. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“We don’t know who the other one is,” Darcy leaned on
the table, his voice soft. “Dale, have you any idea? There are two little
graves in that hollow, we’ve always assumed two children.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale shook his head. “I’ve seen her in the woods with
another child once or twice, a little boy. I know Sarah had a little brother. But
it might be she just plays in our woods with other kids we know nothing about
yet – thousands of children must have passed over our land. It might even be
Clay or Jesse or Hannah down there with her, except I think they were
particular friends she remembered and wanted to meet again.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Is that what you helped her with?” Riley asked
shrewdly.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I think I less helped than got put firmly to good
use.” Dale said ruefully. “Not that I minded.”</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Later, with Riley alone, Dale would tell him about
David, that David had been there for every child, but with these men who had
known and loved David in person, he was never comfortable talking casually
about him in this way. It seemed unkind. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“What did they do about Christmas in her time?” Bear’s
deep voice said curiously. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Not much.” Niall said with regret. “James was talking
about it last night. There was nothing on the trail at all in winter anyway, it
wasn’t passable most of the time for wagons, but in Sarah’s time, the 1840s,
Queen Victoria hadn’t made modern Christmas fashionable yet. There weren’t trees
or much around gifts, it wasn’t much of a thing.” <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Jake leaned on the back of the sofa, stooping to hook
an arm around Dale’s neck and give him a gentle hug. With the obvious unspoken
agreement of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">do not crowd round the man
with the head injury</i>, people kept doing this. Quietly coming to say their
personal hello to him in their own time. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“If the kids hang around the yard or the pasture at
all tonight they’re going to notice the porch and wonder what’s going on. Space
shuttles must pass overhead and wonder what’s going on.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It looks good, you leave the porch alone.” Gerry told
him severely. “Tom, make him behave. And turn up the radio, the carol service
is due any minute now. Is it something you’ve listened to before? The Kings
College service?” </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“No. When I lived in England I mostly attended the
real thing at home.” Tom turned up the radio which was explaining the shipping
forecast for the English channel at present, and then he came to sit on the
hearth, looking down at the map with the rest of them. “The cathedral was
beautiful at Christmas. Where’s Windlass Hill in relation to Ash Hollow? We
couldn’t figure out how close the two were.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The
family always stayed up until midnight on Christmas Eve. It was an evening for
spending together, for stories and talking by the tree and waiting to see
Christmas begin. On this Christmas Eve however, Paul and Flynn were adamant
that Dale went upstairs to bed almost immediately after the end of the carols.
Dale listened to Flynn ruthlessly fend off Riley, Gerry and several other
family members on the landing who were attempting to come and visit him. Paul
closed the door on them all, lay on Flynn’s side of the bed, and for a while
Dale lay there in his arms which was wonderful in itself, listening to the
familiar sounds of Paul’s breathing, and of the home pasture beyond the open
window, in a bed he knew intimately well. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Don’t you think,” Paul said conversationally after a
while, and his fingers were sliding gently and rhythmically through Dale’s
hair, “you’re ever leaving me at home again while you go and get concussed in a
shipyard. If Flynn wants to come on your business trips too he can, but I won’t
care if the meeting involves actual bloodshed. If you’re going to be around
explosions and getting stuck in awful hotels, I’m going to be there.”</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I spent a lot of the time wishing you were.” Dale
said rather shamefacedly. He felt Paul’s hard kiss against his forehead. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I spent a lot of time wishing I was too. I’m glad
you’re home. Are you worried about your vision, honey? What are you thinking
about that?”</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Not much at all. It was a bit alarming how much the
racket at the ski lodge rattled everything, I understand now what Flynn told me
about chaotic neurotransmission. It isn’t handling complex information well yet
but it’s settling down fast.”</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I want it settled down completely before you try to
read, and we’re going to take that appointment with the neurologist at Jackson
to be sure. What level has Flynn had you on?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale sighed. “We never got higher than two. Although I
had Flynn with me the whole time, and Jasper too from Ash Hollow onwards. I
didn’t have the space to get stressed in.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“According to Flynn, you worked hard on staying calm
and doing everything he asked of you despite everything, and you gave Sarah all
the attention you could. He’s very proud of you. We all are. I know how hard it
is for you to cope with changes of plan like that, it takes a lot of effort to
handle. Although it sounds like it ended up being a trip you wouldn’t have
wanted to miss.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">No. Certainly not. Dale thought about it, knowing Paul
valued this information as much as he did. They’d shared many of the history
books Dale had devoured on the subject. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“So many wagons came over our land. I knew it in
theory, I’ve seen the pictures, I’ve read everything in the museum at Jackson,
but to stand on the trail and see the places they came through, to know what
the river crossings were like, how steep the hills were, what the trading posts
were like, what the water was like, how <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">far</i>
they had to go between each stopping point - not to read about it but to…”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“See it and feel it.” Paul finished when he trailed
off. “Yes, I bet that was powerful stuff. It seems to have made quite an
impression on you and Flynn both. Do you know why Flynn is stuffing jeans in
the bin by the way?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“They’re the ones he bought in Kearney, we were a bit
short on clean clothes.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Oh wait for it.” Paul said dryly. “He says he can’t
ride in them?”</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“How did you guess?” Dale said, straight faced. Paul
burst out laughing and hugged him. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I knew it! Oh I know, he was looking after you and he
had his hands full at the time. I won’t tease him. Much.” </span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">25<sup>th</sup>
December</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Plenty of people always went out on
Christmas morning to help with the stock work. The older members of the family
got up more slowly, but the house was full and busy, and while the amiable
battles and waits for the bathroom and the crowd in the kitchen for the large
brunch took place, Flynn kept Dale in bed with him. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I am sleeping fine,” Dale pointed out to him when
Flynn pulled him back down and made it clear they weren’t getting up yet. “I’m
eating fine, I have been since we went out to Wisconsin.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“With effort at times, understandably, but yes.” Flynn
agreed. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale turned over, rather grouchily settling on his
chest. “No withholding anything, no panic attacks, no compulsions,”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I agree. You’ve handled things extremely well.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Which is a level four. Three at the outside.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Head injury.” Flynn said without heat. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Which is fine, and pretty much fixed.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Head injury.” Flynn pulled him closer to kiss him. “We’re
home so I’m fine with a level three, where you always are when the house is
this busy. It’s well deserved, and you’re still not getting up, or charging
about this morning. There isn’t anything you could try harder with, this isn’t
is about you being stressed. This is about concussion. You’re taking today
quietly, without crowds or noise. That’s the end of it.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“It’s Christmas.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Your brain chemistry doesn’t care.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Grrr. This was one of the admittedly very few
downsides of falling desperately in love with a severely over protective Top.
And of scaring him half to death in Wisconsin. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">They showered and shaved together when it was quiet
upstairs, and it was long past eleven when they came down to the kitchen. This
morning Dale could make out some of the numbers on the grandfather clock by the
stairs, and see most of the detail in the photographs on the mantel; while
moving too fast still made things blur it was fading to the point he could move
around the house, the kitchen, even find what Paul asked for in the pantry
without thinking twice. He and Flynn were eating and watching Paul clear the
table when the rush of people who had been out to do the stock work poured up
the porch and came into the kitchen. Wade was among them, loudly and cheerfully
pointing out that if Riley felt he could park the tractor any better then he
was welcome to try, and Darcy, tripping headlong over several boots in the
doorway, told Bear in some detail where boots ought to be. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Stop the racket right now, you’re not doing this
around Dale today.” Paul ordered, going to help Darcy up. “Bear, move those
boots before someone breaks their necks.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“They’re not my boots,” Bear protested, his eyes going
wide. “I didn’t put them-”</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Anyone could park the tractor better than that, it’s
going to take a twenty five point turn to get it out of the door again,” Riley
said over the top of Bear. Wade’s snort was loud and disgusted. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Right. Come outside, right now, and I’ll count. It’ll
be a three point turn at the most.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Do you know the turning circle on that thing?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Both of you outside.” Flynn ordered, getting up. He
herded them towards the door, impeded by Bear still arguing about boots and
large enough that no one was getting past him, and Darcy, complaining about
people who left boots laying around in an attempt to break people’s ankles. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Entertained, Dale glanced up as a hand lightly rested
on his arm. It was Niall. He signalled to Dale with little more than a raise of
his eyebrows to be quiet, his eyes were dancing in a way that was most
inviting, and as Wade began to list his tractor driving credentials and Bear
began to protest again that they weren’t his boots anyway, Niall quietly drew
Dale out into the hallway.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Flynn, I’m getting Dale somewhere quieter.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">That sounded far more innocent than Niall looked. Curious,
Dale went with him. Niall guided him swiftly around towards the front door. Tom,
dressed in heavy outdoor gear, was waiting on the porch with Dale’s boots, coat
and hat.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Quick,” Niall said, letting them out onto the porch
and closing the front door very softly behind them. “Get dressed and let’s get
out of here. We’re kidnapping you. Merry Christmas.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Well that sounded like a wholly reprehensible and
highly interesting idea. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Dale sat down on the bench by the front door and
rapidly pulled his boots and coat on. Further down the porch, Gerry and ‘Lito were
loudly shovelling snow from the steps which provided helpful cover from anyone passing
in the yard, and ‘Lito caught Dale’s eye and grinned. Riley nipped past them around
the side of the house, taking Dale’s arm. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Warm enough? Come on.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Niall rapidly donned his own outside gear and Gerry
and Lito abandoned the shovels and came to join them. In a group of stetsoned
and heavy coated brats, all of whom from a distance would look very much the
same, they crossed the yard and reached the pasture unchallenged. Horses were
waiting there, tacked up and curious since they’d been out once already this
morning to do the stock work. Dale took Hammer’s reins from the fence rail,
taking a moment to rub his nose, having spent a week away from him. Hammer
shoved his head hard into Dale’s chest in welcome and snorted, nudging until
Dale pulled his ears. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Do you feel ok to ride?” Riley said discreetly to
Dale. “I’ll come with you on Hammer if you’re not sure.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">There was no one safer to ride than Hammer. Dale found
the stirrup and pulled himself up, with a rush of joy in the day, the snow, the
company, Hammer beneath his hands and being extremely and outrageously bad in a
way he should not have been enjoying nearly so much. Although not even Flynn
could deny that it was beautifully and peacefully quiet out here in the open
pasture. Perfect for people with head injuries. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“I’m fine. Where are we going?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Well we thought we probably ought to spring you
before you went stir crazy.” Gerry, mounting Flint, moved over to help Niall
climb the fence and reach Nekkid’s saddle. On his other side, Tom had
competently mounted up on Moo. “Way too many Tops in the house. Besides which
there’s something we think you ought to see. Shall we get out of here before
Flynn notices where you’re not?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Riley pulled Snickers in beside Hammer, staying close,
and they walked the horses fast down the length of the paddock rail which took
them well away from sight of the ranch windows before they turned out into the
open home pasture. A couple of miles out into the pasture they saw Boris and
Petra, two of the big shire horses, cantering towards them through the thick
snow with the white flakes flying from their massive feet. Darcy and Bear were
riding them and Riley and the others drew in to let them catch up. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Anyone notice we’d gone?” Gerry demanded. Bear shook
his head, grinning at Dale from under the brim of his Stetson. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“No, no one’s noticed a thing yet. Wade isn’t coming,
he covered us getting away, but he’s doing a good job.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Someone had thought to dig the cairn out of the snow and
to clear the space around it. It stood this morning like a frozen beacon.
Nearby, the lake was iced over and birds walked on its surface, dusted with
blown snow, but the river was still moving as they reached the crossing place,
and the horses waded patiently through. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">It was warmer amongst the trees. Walking the horses –
which they had done all the way, Dale suspected Riley was keeping their pace right
down on purpose to avoid jolting him – they went a short way down the path
before Riley turned Snickers and waited. This was one of the main paths through
the wood that they rode all the time, it was wide and the trees edging it were
mostly the aspens that grew freely here, their tall, thin white trunks like
pillars. The thin branches rose from the trunks at angles rather like a stark
Christmas tree, short and angular and closely clustered. On one of the largest
trees beside the trail – Dale looked harder, startled. And then deeply,
seriously touched. From the lower branches, maybe from six feet up to about two
feet from the ground, small toys hung, tied to the branches with red ribbon. Several
small wooden trains. Several rag dolls in delicate dresses. Painted soldiers. Wooden
horses. A toy drum with its beater attached to the drum with ribbon. A little
xylophone with a beater also hanging beside it. And five wooden stars, each one
with a name carefully painted on and varnished for waterproofing. Hannah. Reid.
Jesse. Clay, and Sarah. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“You’re going to think we’re mad,” Gerry said
conversationally, “But Bear and Riley and I went into Jackson the day before
yesterday and raided one of the toy shops, and Bear made the stars. It seemed…
only right. Under the circumstances.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Oh it was right. Dale slid down from Hammer’s saddle
to go to the tree, running his fingers lightly over one or two of the toys. The
carving and varnishing of the stars was very much Bear’s work, Dale knew his
style: there were door panels on the ranch that looked like this, but these
were truly beautiful. Carefully, lovingly shaped and sanded to perfect
smoothness, and the lettering of the painted names was Darcy’s delicate looping
handwriting, the kind he put in Christmas and birthday cards. Dale looked up to
find Bear, swallowing on the warmth of the smile Bear gave him. Riley had
dismounted too. Dale felt Snickers huff against his shoulders and Riley reached
past him to straighten one of the trains. Wooden toys. Things that a child of
1848 would recognise. That had Riley’s touch all over it. Unable to say
anything at all, Dale put an arm around his waist and Riley returned the hug. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Do you need to do anything for them to be able to find
it? I know you see Sarah most often at the crossing place and by the lake, we
thought this was a private spot nearest to her favourite places. Just don’t get
cold for pete’s sake, we’re probably all in enough trouble.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The energy coming off this little group in the woods,
men of every generation from this household, was warm and bright and Dale could
feel it lifting and pulling on him. Their emotion, their shared care and
intention, their thought for her created that energy and it was painted all
over this tree. If Dale let his eyes slide out of focus and looked, it was
around every toy Riley and the others had handled and hung here. It shone. Like
the bright energy of Sarah herself all the way across the snow blown prairie
from Wisconsin, lighting up each place they stopped. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“She’ll have no trouble finding this.” Dale said with
conviction. “She’ll feel it from miles away.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“What’s funny?” Riley said under his breath to them as
Dale explored the tree. “You’re trying not to laugh, I can see you doing it.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Do you know what the Oregon Way is?” Dale gently
straightened one of the little dolls. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Of course I do. The trail. You just came down it.”
Riley gave him a sideways look, somewhat concerned. “I thought you were over
the concussion?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“No. Not the trail, the way. It was something Philip
believed in. I’ll explain another time. But it’s…” Dale looked again at the
tree. “…perfect. You’re doing it well.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">He and Riley walked their
way out of the woods, leading Snickers and Hammer. It was mostly for the sheer
pleasure of walking through the snowy woods on Christmas morning, although the
others, who lacked a mounting block or fence, were older and who didn’t put the
regular practice in on climbing up on some fairly tall horses, didn’t take the
risk of getting down. They rode, slowly in a group, walking the horses through
the snow to the crossing place. Dale stood there with Riley, watching the
horses walk through the flowing water one by one ahead of them. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Across the pasture, on the frozen lake, five children
were kneeling on the ice, peering with fascination through to the water
beneath. Dale recognised each small face. Sarah looked up at him, and her smile
was blazing. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“They’re here, aren’t they?” Riley said softly behind
him, noticing where he was gazing. Dale gave him a discreet nod. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">“Yes. All of them.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Four of them had never set foot on ranch land in their
lifetimes. This had always been Sarah’s place to visit and play, but the guests
she had brought home seemed to be enjoying themselves here. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">He and Riley mounted up and walked the horses across
the crossing place and into the snowy pasture, joining the crowd of other brats
of all ages who waited for them. Niall, thin but upright in the saddle, who had
known these woods when Philip was young and he and David were still building
the house. Bear and Gerry and Riley who had been so young here, not much more
than boys. Darcy, who was as good at secrets as anyone else on this ranch. ‘Lito,
Tom and himself, from another continent, also travellers. Strangers made
welcome on this layered land that welcomed the brave, the determined, the
adventurous, whoever they were. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">As they crossed the pasture and headed home, Dale saw
the children cross the river over the shallow crossing place stones, and run
together into the woods. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #62f12f; font-family: "ar hermann"; font-size: 20pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8vOQ_zipVM4</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Merry
Christmas 2018!</span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">R&R</span><br />
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3812077977994131831.post-3812949949741941652017-12-24T05:57:00.000-08:002017-12-24T11:18:04.888-08:00Cathedral Close<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiBXIKbyQnlKMjDxzloJA4fCFeKwIjLW7X4Q6UQgtPneF1sFVQYILFbg_zzBzP_UTM4IfkY-rbII2-NfWKXQ7yxmzUnSJ9TGBdR4vWOe6rlcHJFvyWluL-Ta0yi-d5d8pEyLKxRgaZve4/s1600/holly.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="295" data-original-width="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiBXIKbyQnlKMjDxzloJA4fCFeKwIjLW7X4Q6UQgtPneF1sFVQYILFbg_zzBzP_UTM4IfkY-rbII2-NfWKXQ7yxmzUnSJ9TGBdR4vWOe6rlcHJFvyWluL-Ta0yi-d5d8pEyLKxRgaZve4/s1600/holly.gif" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="color: #00b0f0; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 36pt; text-align: center;">Cathedral Close</span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">24<sup>th</sup>
November <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Thanksgiving in
this family traditionally tended to be a less excited occasion than Christmas. There
was much less ceremony and depending on the weather, more time spent helping
out on the ranch with the last of the fall work, and for those who were up for
it, riding and at least one long hike together. As a youngster in his first
year or two here Flynn had tried slipping away to cover the usual daily work
and let them get on with it, but this family made you too welcome and he’d been
drawn in much as Jasper had. Thanksgiving dinner in the evening was always a
full, seated meal at the table with all its leaves out as it had been in Philip
and David’s time, and it tended to be a long, slow and relaxed affair full of
chatter and conversation. Long after the meal was over men sat talking late
into the evening and sharing the chocolate and nuts and coffee Paul brought to
the table.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Riley loved the house being full and all
family traditions and events; he always had. He was on a high from the time
people started arriving and happily sociable with any and every member of the
family and the inlaws he was never short of company or people to talk to. Dale
and Paul spent their time planning menus together, readying linen, towels and
rooms, and generally caring for guests while they were here, although Flynn,
Jasper and Paul kept a firm hand on Dale while it went on. Given a third of a
chance he had a knack for appropriating most of the chores in the house, and as
he did it subconsciously rather than intentionally it tended to happen before
anyone noticed, including Dale.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Dale was sitting
on the floor with Riley this evening in among the small crowd of elder family
members gathered by the fire. Flynn brought a tray of tea across to the coffee
table between them, reflecting that next year they needed to extend the kind of
formal invitation to join them that Tom would just as formally appreciate in
his own way, and would take seriously. He was another brat that would pull hard
on the heart of every one of their older Tops, little though he’d realise it. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">James glanced across from the conversation
and caught his eye to signal thanks as Flynn put a cup in his reach. Hawk
nosed, one of those men whose bone structure merely matured over time like a
well casked wine, he was sitting very upright, even at this hour of the day
when he was tired. Niall beside him, more delicately built and his once red
hair whitened now to strawberry blond, accepted another cup with a quick smile.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Dale I meant to ask you, do you know
the area around Eastbourne in the UK at all?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Not much. I was walked around Birling
Gap and the Seven Sisters cliffs when I was in prep school, but that was it as
far as the south coast goes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You got dragged everywhere by your prep
school.” Riley, sprawled on the rug where he was roasting gently in the heat
from the fire, twisted his head around to give Dale a grin which Dale returned.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“On the principle that you keep kids
busy if you don’t want trouble. Why Eastbourne Niall? Are you planning a trip?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He shifted over on the rug to make space
for Flynn to sit next to him. Flynn leaned an elbow on the hearthstone, where
his fingers wound idly through the dark hair on Dale’s collar. He was wearing a
darkly sapphire blue shirt tonight, crisp as everything he wore was always crisp,
but the collar was unbuttoned and open, and it set off the sharp contrasts in
the white of his skin and the bright darkness of his hair and eyes. Niall
sipped tea appreciatively. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“There’s a memorial to several US units being
put up in a cathedral near there. We had a letter from the veterans’
organisation we belong to. There were multiple embarkation points for the D Day
landings along the coast in the cathedral diocese.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Including yours?” Riley asked. Niall
glanced at James. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Mine, yes. Not that I remember much
about it, it was dark and I got off the truck and onto the boat without noticing
much of the town. It was the area where both our divisions left from, and the
divisions of other guys we knew.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I joined my division in the middle of
Germany months after the landings took place,” James added. “I was drafted very
late in the war.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“And had a fun time locating the group
you were supposed to be with.” Niall smiled at him. “Since all the groups were
moving all the time no one really knew where they were. New arrivals had to
chase them. Our groups were both involved at the battle of Nuremberg; that was
where we first met. We spent a highly unromantic night in a bombed out church
in the rain.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You weren’t stationed out there
together?” Luath asked from where he was sprawled on the other couch beside
Peter, who had Lewis curled up against him with the zoned look that meant he
was dozing off at intervals but didn’t want Peter to notice. Niall shook his
head. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Not then. I was a translator so I got
drafted around a lot to help wherever it was needed, and after the war I was
sent back to Nuremberg to work with the legal teams who needed translators more
or less constantly. James was stationed there and we met up again.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“But the war was over. Didn’t you get to
head home?” Riley looked to James who shook his head. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“There were troops on the ground out in
Europe helping with the clearing up and sorting out for years afterwards. You
had to earn a set number of points to go home, mostly added up through time
served. I had less than a year served when the war was ended and nothing like
enough points.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“He still got home before me.” Niall
said dryly. James’s eyes softened for a moment where they rested on his partner.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You were too valuable. French and
German speaking and legal experience, they couldn’t afford to lose you. Wade
was stationed in England too, but in the countryside north of London. Air
corps.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Wade, who was in the kitchen playing
poker with Darcy, Jasper who was a wicked poker player, and Gerry and Ash,
wasn’t aware of this situation and was well out of earshot, but Flynn still
heard James’ voice lower slightly as if not wanting him to hear. So he expected
Wade to not want to know of this memorial. Which fit with what Flynn knew of
Wade. He’d heard a few rumours of Wade’s combat experience, enough to know that
Wade himself never spoke of it, or his time in England. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“We should see the photographs of the
ceremony on the association website,” Niall said. “Apparently there’s going to
be a cathedral service and dedication, there’s a number of our group planning
to attend.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Will you go?” Riley asked. “You went
out with them to the event in France a few years back, didn’t you? You showed
me the pictures.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">James and Niall looked at each other briefly.
Then James answered for them both. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“We were a bit younger then. We’re
getting past journeys that long now.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And
Niall had flu this fall which worried you crazy, </span></i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Flynn
mentally added, <i>and it’s twelve hours on
a crowded plane in winter with more travelling to do when you get there, when
it would be a hard trip for the both of you anyway. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Niall sipped tea, his expression
neutral. He’d never contradicted, argued with or in any form embarrassed James in
Flynn’s earshot from the day they met. Niall was like Dale in that way. Where
Riley’s emotions ran free and strong no matter who was watching and his loyalty
was passionately shown in other ways, Dale never showed anything without
considering the effect on them first. But Niall’s eyes were down on his cup,
not meeting James’. Beside him, Flynn saw Dale notice, register it and drop his
own gaze to avoid making Niall or James uncomfortable. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Heading upstairs
shortly before ten, Flynn glanced through the door of Riley’s room where Jasper
and Riley were sprawled together on Riley’s bed and talking. When the house was
busy like this, both their brats needed downtime to change gear before they
could sleep, and this was one of the few times of day that they could carve out
a little time to spend alone together. They might be hosting a houseful and
enjoying it, but it mattered that Riley and Dale were certain they were never
lost in the crowd. Stripped down to boxers and nothing else, chestnut hair
tousled, long legs loose, Riley glanced up and smiled, but he was face
downwards with his chin on his arms and Jasper was rubbing his back. It had
been a long and lively day. On top of an early start this morning to cover the
stock work that had to be done every day no matter what the celebration, they
had hiked the best part of ten miles over the ranch at a pace that suited some
of their older walkers who spent less time walking over rough ground than they
did, and then when they got back he’d ridden out to make a quick check of the ewes
in the further pasture and refill the feeding stations that were compensating
for frequently frosty and snowy ground. From Riley’s expression he was
currently two thirds jelly and not planning to move again tonight. Flynn went
on up the narrow side stairs to the office. It was chilly up there. Dale hadn’t
bothered to switch on the small portable heater, he often didn’t when he only
planned to be up here briefly. He was intent on something on the computer
screen, braced on the desk in a way that strained his shirt distractingly
across his shoulders and pulled a rolled shirt cuff back from the smooth lines
of his forearm. A couple of faxes were stacked on the desk that hadn’t been
there this morning since the international financial world did not stop for
Thanksgiving. The top one was from Jeremy Banks, regarding an office in London.
Flynn glanced through, lifting it to see the fax underneath which was a stream
of data regarding a European syndicate that Dale liked to keep an eye on. On
the screen – Flynn recognised the banner with the veterans association on it
that both James and Niall belonged to. Dale had followed the association for
well over a year now. He had asked and received permission to make several
donations to it, which Flynn knew he did anonymously on behalf of the ranch
since three of their people belonged to it. The page was the information regarding
the dedication of the memorial.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He had eight minutes remaining of
computer time. Dale being their Dale, he invariably left the room at least two
minutes before his time ended, although he was careful not to be too precise at
it as otherwise Paul sent him back up to explore the experience of being late
and remind himself that nobody died from it. Flynn sat on the edge of the desk
to look with him at the screen. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“That’s the date of the dedication?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes. Mid December.” Dale selected the
top fax and turned it towards Flynn. “This is one of the annual ANZ chores.
Jeremy Banks sends them out at this time of year and hopes everyone will volunteer
for the one they’re nearest to at the time. I haven’t helped with it since I
moved out here.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“It’s a board meeting?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes. Well. More accurately it’s a check
in and a Christmas drinks event. It’s more of a quick morale health check and
showing a presence than getting any work done, but ANZ have a base office in a
number of countries. Keeping contact and showing appreciation of those teams is
important. This is the London one.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Ah.
<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Flynn looked at the date with
comprehension. “Which just happens to be three days before the dedication at
the cathedral.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes, I went looking for this, and hoped
it might fit. I’d like to ask Paul if he’ll come with me to London to cover
that meeting. I don’t think it’s a city he’s been to and he’d enjoy it – well
I’d make sure he enjoyed it-”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“He’d love it.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“And that would give us a good excuse to
ask James and Niall if they’d like to join us. James won’t accept if he thinks
we’re only going for them.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He was right. Flynn nodded thoughtfully,
looking again at the fax. “The meeting would take you what, a half day?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“At most. But it would mean I could take
a private plane, which would make for a much easier journey for them. A
decently comfortable cabin they can walk and lie down in, decent food, a
shorter flight, much easier airport transfers. There’s several days gap between
the meeting and the dedication, so they’d get a couple of days to rest in
London before the service, I can find a comfortable hotel. And Paul and I would
be there to help. I’d imagine most of the reason James is saying no is he’s
worried about Niall handling the journey.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“He is.” Flynn put out a hand to run his
fingers through Dale’s dark hair, pushing back from his forehead. A firm,
intimate caress that brought their faces close and Dale’s grey eyes directly up
to his. “Do you want to do this or you feel you ought to?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Want.” Dale said without hesitation. “If
they want to be there it should be something we make possible for them.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Yes, it should. Philip would have done very
much the same. Flynn cupped a hand under the strong and slightly evening
shadowed bone of his chin and snatched a moment to kiss him, putting most of
his answer on Dale’s lips. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Let’s talk to the others.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Paul had joined Jasper in Riley’s room
and Flynn nudged the door to in order to gain them a little privacy while Dale sat
down on the bed with them and explained. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“It’s a brilliant idea.” Paul said as
soon as he got the concept, “I hated seeing Niall look like that, it was clear
he wants to go and I’d love them to be able to. I thought about offering to go
with them but the travel on commercial flights would be too hard on them over
that distance, and that’s most of what James is worried about. If you chartered
a flight we could make it a much gentler trip.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Sounds perfect to me,” Riley was still
sprawled with his head in Jasper’s lap, but his eyes were alert and he loved
James and Niall. He hadn’t missed this either. “It would mean a lot to them.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I agree.” Jasper said as Dale glanced
to him. “I’d be glad we could help. You’d be gone when?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“From the fifteenth to the twenty first
of December.” Dale handed Jasper the fax to look at. “The only downside I can
see is that it runs things quite close in terms of our preparing the house for
Christmas which is a lot of work-”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“No, that’s easy enough,” Paul
interrupted him gently, “There’s plenty we can get organised before we leave,
and it hasn’t been a big job since the day you got here, you cover a lot of it.
Not least since you can remember where the vacuum cleaner’s kept,”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Hey, I vacuum!” Riley protested. Paul
shook his head. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Not if you can help it you don’t. It’s
amazing how many horses develop sudden, urgent issues whenever I want the
stairs vacuumed. Don’t worry about that Dale, we can easily plan around it.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“If you need the house cleaned while
you’re away we’ll get the house cleaned.” Flynn said dismissively. “We’re
perfectly competent. And get in any shopping you need, just leave a list.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I am not sending you shopping under any
circumstances. I’ve got that t shirt.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I can shop.” Jasper said peaceably. “If
needed.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Are we going to fit in a trip out Cheyenne
as well?” Riley demanded. Paul thought about it, wincing slightly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“….The timing is going to be very tight,
but we are going to need to. Although at this point they’ll only just be
putting out the Christmas stock,”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Flynn shook his head in exasperation.
“Why does anyone need ‘Christmas stock’? Can’t this reasonably be done with
standard, normal stock such is available for eleven months of the year? How
does glitter and red bows in the stores make a difference?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Because for certain things yes, I need
Christmas stock on the shelves. They don’t stock them all year round.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“We can probably do most of it in London
while we’re there.” Dale suggested. “We’ll have at least two full days. That
would just leave the clothes shopping which could wait until New Year if it had
to?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You mean we get out of going to
Cheyenne this year if you go to London?” Riley jerked upright, looking at
Flynn. “They’re going. I’ll pack for them right now.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Flynn shot him a quick grin which earned
them both a stern look from Paul. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“This sort of thing is <i>not</i> just Dale’s and my responsibility. You
do your fair share of this Riley Hamilton, just like I expect you to do with
everything else.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Harrods…” Dale said innocently and reflectively
to the dresser. “Fortnum and Masons…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“See?” Riley demanded. “You can try British
singing penguins, it’ll be a whole new experience. No one muttering about
strollers…. No one demanding to know if we can go home yet…. No one
disappearing in the crowds….”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Regents Street... Covent Garden….” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Paul swatted Dale’s knee and leaned over
to swat Riley, who dodged him. “Both of you, stop it. Dale, I’ll bet you’ve
never set foot in a single one of those places.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dale laughed. “I’ve attended several
meetings at Harrods. And sent clients to all those places on entertainment
packages plenty of times.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Ok, I admit it sounds good.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“See?” Riley told him, settling back against
with his head on Jasper’s knee. “You’re going to love it. All that shopping. In
peace. With us right here, not bugging you.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“All right, all right, it looks like you
lot get the year off. Unless you want to come too Ri?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Spend a whole day on a plane for a
hotel and a lot of shops?” Riley snorted dismissively. “<i>No</i> thank you very much. Dale, are you going to be anywhere near
your Grandparents if you’re in London?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Ouch.
</span></i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Paul looked across at Dale, shocked at
the thought. It was apparent from Dale’s calm nod he’d already factored this
in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes, right on the doorstep. I probably
ought to visit them while we’re there. I don’t know when I might be in the UK
again.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“And you’re just ok with that? What
about your mom and Rupert?” Riley asked warily. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“No.” Dale said with much more finality.
“They’re over a hundred and fifty miles north west. There’s no risk of spoiling
their Christmas, they’d have no idea I was in the country.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Spoiling?” Riley demanded. “What do you
mean you’d ‘spoil’ their Christmas if they knew? For frick’s sake -”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I don’t plan to go anywhere near
Shropshire.” Dale gave Riley a faint and Paul thought a reassuring smile. “But
my grandparents, yes I should. If Paul and James wouldn’t mind me taking a
couple of hours out to see them.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Should,
not want.</span></i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> Riley looked ready to bite. Paul looked
swiftly across to Flynn and saw the reflection there of what he felt. Behind
Riley, Jasper’s eyes met his calmly, steadily. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We
can handle it. Don’t worry. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You can take all the time you want.”
Paul said to Dale, keeping the concern off his face. “They’re elderly, they
won’t be there forever, and if you want to meet them in person then this is a
good opportunity.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Jasper dropped a hand on Dale’s
shoulder. “Go down and invite James to come with you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“If he still doesn’t feel it’s right for
him and Niall then you and I will go anyway and represent them at the
dedication.” Paul told him. “But I feel the same way you do. If they want to go
then they should be able to.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They heard him head down the stairs.
Riley, more or less laying down under Jasper’s quietly and soothingly rubbing
hand, still looked ready to snap someone’s head off. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“If any of that bunch of dysfunctional
maniacs dares hint to him he’s going to ‘spoil’ anything just because he’s
existing too near them-”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“The letters from his grandparents have
been fine, they seem decent enough.” Jasper reminded him. “If it’s something he
feels he needs to do-”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“There are times he ‘feels he needs to
do’ all kinds of crap, including counting fence posts. It doesn’t mean we just
let him get on with it.” Riley said very shortly.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">James was still
seated by the fire downstairs. The room was quieter, most of the conversation
was currently going on in the kitchen where the poker game was sounding as if
was reaching an exciting phase, but Luath, Lewis and Niall were discussing the
merits of Tampa Bay. Aware of the protocol of not asking a Top something he
might wish to say no to in front of anyone who might be upset by that refusal-
which seemed bizarre to Dale, since no Top of his acquaintance ever said no
without good reason, and since it was their call to make it wasn’t exactly
logical to mind when they did it - Dale came to stand politely near him,
waiting for James to spare his attention from the conversation. James put his glass
down and rose unhurriedly, accompanying Dale towards the alcove beside the
study. There, out of earshot of the others, Dale put his hands behind his back.
James had that effect on almost every family brat, excepting possibly Wade.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I have permission to ask you, sir. Paul
and I will be going to London shortly, I have a board meeting to attend on
behalf of ANZ. It will only be a half day commitment, but ANZ will be providing
me with a chartered plane, and the dates are within three days of the veterans’
dedication service. We wondered if you and Niall would consider travelling with
us and letting us accompany you to the service? It would mean spending a couple
of days in London before the day of the dedication.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">James nodded slowly, processing that with
little change in his expression. “I see. Would this be a meeting you already
had a commitment to, or a meeting that is convenient?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This was not a man you tried lying to,
even lightly by omission, and Dale respected him too much to even consider it. “It’s
convenient timing, sir. I just received the information from ANZ this evening,
and it seemed like an ideal coincidence. Paul asked me to tell you that he and
I will attend the service anyway and be glad to represent you, but we would
very much like for you and Niall to be able to be there should you want to.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“And ANZ don’t feel you and Paul could
possibly survive a commercial flight?” James inquired. “I’ve heard rumour of a
phenomenon called ‘business class’? Particularly since they will hardly be
rushing you on to another continent for your next assignment?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dale, who knew that deeply formal tone
James used when he was teasing you, gave him an equally politely bland look in
return. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I believe that business class has
become quite a well-established practice in some circles, sir. I can find you
evidence if it would help?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes you must do that for me. In my day
of course we merely sat next to the rear gunner.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dale cracked, unable to swallow the
smile any longer. “It’s just more economically viable for ANZ to use their own
planes when they have an annual contract in place with flight companies than to
purchase tickets, particularly around a holiday. And working at my level
carries some compensations. They do take some care for your comfort. It would be
no difficulty to order a stopover at Lansing to meet you, and either return you
to Lansing or bring you back here with us for Christmas.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">James’s steady look went on for rather a
few more seconds than was comfortable. Then he smiled, put a hand on Dale’s
shoulder and walked with him towards the stairs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Then if I may take some time to think
about it, I’ll let you know. Thank you, Dale. This is very kind of you.” The
hand on his shoulder moved to encircle his shoulders and James kissed his cheek,
warmly and with the affection Dale always felt from this man. “Sleep well.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Flynn was seated at the top of the
stairs waiting for him, and got up to walk with Dale down the hall to their
room. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“He wants to talk it through with
Niall.” Dale said when they were out of earshot of anyone downstairs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“And in your opinion?” Flynn prompted. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Judging by James’ stance, facial
expression, choice of words… from years of expertly assessing the reception to
propositions Dale made the calculations without difficulty. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“2:1 odds on.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Flynn snagged him by the back of his
jeans, turning him around, and Dale folded his arms around Flynn’s neck as
Flynn kissed him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“This is the kind of thing Philip knew
how to do for people. I’ve missed it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dale slid his hands gently up into
Flynn’s hair and cradled his head as they rested for a moment, forehead to forehead.
“Then we do it. It isn’t difficult.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Flynn snatched another kiss and let him
go. “Go use the bathroom before the crowd come up.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They were undressing for bed when there
was a tap at their door and Flynn called over, </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Come in?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Niall was dishevelled from the poker
game downstairs but his eyes were reddened and watery and he went directly to
Dale, putting both arms around him to hug him tightly, and then freeing an arm
to pull Flynn over and kiss his cheek. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Thank you. Thank you <i>so</i> much.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">9<sup>th</sup>
December <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They extended the invitation to Wade of
course, or rather James asked that they allowed him to do it on their behalf. From
which Dale had understood how much James expected it to upset him, and that it
would be easier for Wade to hear it from him and easier for him to express a
passionate <i>not under any circumstances</i>
to James than to them. They had no option but to offer; it was Wade’s right to
be asked, but it was not pleasant to know it was likely to upset him. James
confirmed the following day that Wade’s response was no thank you – which was
very likely edited – and later Luath confirmed quietly to Flynn in Dale’s
hearing that he intended to spend those few days they were in England in visiting
Wade in Texas. He’d have company to keep his mind off it. There were other
options – a phone connection or video link to the service would have been easy
enough to arrange for him, but Dale stopped himself suggesting it or trying to
broach it any further. It was clear Wade wanted nothing to do with it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“None of them ever really talk about the
war,” Paul told him when they were alone. “Philip told me that they did amongst
themselves; it was a case of only the people who had been through it themselves
could understand, although I think Wade and Niall probably told Philip bits. I
get the impression it was worse for the two of them than for James, but you
never know with James if it really was easier or if he just minimises it. James
and Niall have been active with the veterans’ association for decades. I know
Wade’s a member, Charlie was too; but I don’t know how much he’s ever wanted to
participate.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">On a more positive note, when the
situation was explained to her, Caroline was her usual and educational self in
terms of putting plans into practice, and on request guided Dale swiftly into
the realms of finding suitable hotels without a business focus, which was a
novelty for both of them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Formal, traditional and comfortable.”
Dale said when he spoke to her, knowing what James and Niall liked and would
feel most at home in, and having learned by experience that in these matters
Caroline’s expertise was well worth listening to. Sometimes the skills the
family required him to have were those of an excellent PA, and she was a very
good coach. “The more traditional the better, but the comfort level matters
most. Two of the party are elderly.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He researched the short list of her
suggestions, had no difficulty selecting the Goring in Westminster as the best
of the options, and would have gone on to book the two suites there himself had
Caroline not very politely but firmly insisted that this was what he paid her
for. The other questions she asked him led him to think of a number of other
matters all of which added to the ease and the comfort of the trip for James
and Niall, and most of which wouldn’t have occurred to him. On his advice she
further helped him establish a second and suitable hotel in the location he
asked for near to the cathedral for a further two nights, clicking rapidly
through screens on her end of the phone and flashing links across to him as she
found them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I’d recommend that one. That’s about as
traditional as it gets, and with history to it if you’re looking to entertain.
Paul would love it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She was right. With the bookings in hand
Dale thanked her and left her to negotiate with hotel receptionists and flight
plans, and returned his attention to preparing the house as much as possible before
they left. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">By the 13th of December the house was cleaned
and the rooms were readied for the guests that would start filling them from
around the 20<sup>th</sup> onwards until after New Year; the linen closet was
stocked, the rooms aired and beds were made up for their owners as they arrived.
With the record player turning out several of the family favourite albums, Paul
turned out batch after batch of things that cooled on racks in the kitchen and
went into the big chest freezer in the garage. Stocks and pastries, pies,
tarts, sausage rolls, cheese rolls, several different batches of the chutneys
and pickles that went with the buffets he usually set out at Christmas. Several
fruit cakes which were fed with brandy and put away. Traditional British Christmas
puddings, which Paul had been in the habit of making for David and the rest of
the family had become accustomed to. On the principle of learning all he could
around the traditions and things that mattered to this family Dale had
participated in this and learned how to do it from soaking and preparing the
fruit to boiling the puddings the traditional way. The rich scents of those
filled the house for several days. Paul also went into Jackson to do a large
shop for the storables, filling the pantry and garage. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Which leaves only the fresh stuff which
I’ll get when we get back.” he said to Dale, handing him another couple of the
shopping bags from the trunk of the four by four in the garage. “You’re home early. I thought you were
planning to shift those fallen trees today?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“They’re done.” Dale shifted the bags to
one arm to take a third, and jumped slightly as Jasper’s hand came past him to
take it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes, I noticed since I came down that
way to see if you needed a hand. Garage shelves, Paul?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes please.” Paul took his bags towards
the pantry. Jasper took the bags across to put them on the freezer top and
began to put away the large bags of flour, sugar and oats on the shelf above.
Dale took the others to stack the cans and cartons with the others on the
shelves. He hadn’t heard Jasper come into the yard or the garage, although he
was still in his working clothes which meant he hadn’t been home for long. When
the bags were empty Dale waited for Jasper to join him and snapped off the
garage light, but Jasper unhurriedly took a seat on the garage step, facing him
and effectively blocking his way. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“The site was immaculate when I looked.
You hadn’t just cut those trees up and moved them, you cleared up too. The way
you usually do, which means there was barely a woodchip left.” He watched Dale
for a minute from dark eyes, his long hands loosely linked between jeaned
knees. “That should have taken you a while. How fast were you working today?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Where ‘fast’ was known to them both as
meaning a variable from ‘efficient’ to ‘burning off nervous energy’ and with
the option of passing through ‘compulsive obsessive’ on the way, that was not
the innocent question it sounded like. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“…. Fast.” Dale admitted. Jasper nodded
slowly, considering. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You got home a little earlier than
usual yesterday, and the day before that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Since it was apparent that Jasper wasn’t
planning to move from the step, Dale took a seat on the garage floor by him. “Yes,
it probably got done a little too fast. Which I know isn’t ideal, but sometimes
it’s useful rather than purely obsessive.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“What’s it useful for? Were you wanting
to get home?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dale sighed, since Jasper wasn’t going
to let it go. “I just <i>like</i> keeping a
handle on this stuff. I do actually like the cleaning part of it. I like baking
the same things we baked last year and the year before….”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“In fact you like Christmas.” Jasper
finished for him calmly. “I know. So do I. Now what part of this aren’t we
talking about?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">No answer to that was going to end well.
Jasper got up, taking Dale’s hand to help him to his feet. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Take a seat on the
stairs and have a think about that please.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Think
about what precisely?</span></i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> Dale resisted the urge
to inquire with exasperation and jumped again, startled at the extremely firm
swat that landed on the seat of his jeans as he passed Jasper on the way to the
stairs. Single swats from Paul or Flynn tended to be a matter of fact
communication of <i>belt up, you’re on thin
ice</i>. Jasper’s swats were much rarer, had the knack of somehow stinging like
hell for some time, and tended to be less warning and more….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">You
need to take a look at yourself and what you are doing. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Abashed, Dale took a seat at the foot of
the stairs. He’d been there only a few minutes when Riley came out of the
kitchen, bare foot, damp haired and fresh out of the shower in clean jeans,
heading towards the stairs. Dale moved over to let him by, and Riley leaned on
the wall, looking down at him. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio6ZH0gheE_n_A-mJqbIDujeu-eLyABksxj44B6UNYLyVoPwM1rrjlZuAPN46FT6tpZUSrrOuxuQpcyN3S26jF16ieO0damIQvsnk6OUscN_9hUS-1MTqU8RuJ0GhFi12TwTy-qvAkt5A/s1600/IMG_5774.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio6ZH0gheE_n_A-mJqbIDujeu-eLyABksxj44B6UNYLyVoPwM1rrjlZuAPN46FT6tpZUSrrOuxuQpcyN3S26jF16ieO0damIQvsnk6OUscN_9hUS-1MTqU8RuJ0GhFi12TwTy-qvAkt5A/s320/IMG_5774.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Who did you tick off?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Jasper. I got home a little early.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“That is not why you’re sitting there.”
Jasper’s voice said from the kitchen. Riley grinned, sitting down beside Dale
to lower his voice, although in Dale’s experience Jasper had ears like a lynx. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“What’s that about?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It was nearly too embarrassing to talk
about. Dale rubbed the bridge of his nose, aware his face was starting to burn
even though this was Riley listening. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“…. Working too fast. Intentionally. Not
because anything is getting away from me.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But still not a habit he was allowed to
indulge in for obvious reasons and they both knew it. Riley did not look or
sound approving. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Why intentionally? And why are you doing
stuff like tree hauling for if you want to do it at high speed? I wondered what
you were thinking this morning when you said you were going to do it. That was
a long job and it could have waited until spring?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Because it needs doing.” Dale ducked
and yelped as Riley batted him briskly upside the back of his head. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“If you’re going to rush stuff you don’t
take fricking chainsaws with you! What’s this about?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Nothing important. There are things to
be done here that need-”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You’re stressing in other words.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I am not stressing.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“If you won’t even admit to it and you’re
stressing with chainsaws then you fricking <i>need</i>
to be on the stairs.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He had an uncomfortably strong point. Jasper
came out of the kitchen and in spite of himself Dale’s stomach dived. Riley got
up in response to Jasper’s <i>give us a
minute please</i> signal, and went upstairs. Jasper took his place on the
stairs beside Dale. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Well?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I did nothing in the least dangerous
with a chainsaw or anything else.” Dale said shortly, aware his voice was
taking on the tone that Paul called lecturing and which usually meant he was
getting unnecessarily defensive. “Fast does not mean inefficient or not
careful, and I could recite the heavy cutting tools health and safety manual,
not to mention write them an updated version including the legislation on-”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Jasper leaned on his knees, steepling
his long hands between them. “I’m wondering if you’re worried the house won’t
be ready before you to go to London. Or if you’re worried about helping Paul
out with his work as well as do yours because you think the trip is overloading
him. Or whether you’re trying to distract yourself because you’re worried about
Wade, or your grandparents. And those would all be things you need to be talking
about.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“He doesn’t know, Jas; he’s just
stressing.” Riley commented irritably from the landing, walking past as he
pulled a clean sweater on. “Way too much leash.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I am perfectly competent to manage a
few days in another country the way I have done plenty of times before for most
of my working life,” Dale said acidly before he could stop himself. Riley
leaned against the wall to put his socks on. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yeah, because now is exactly the same
as then, and you never start missing us to the point you leave the state, or
anything like that, do you? This is knee deep bullshit and you know it because
you want to fight about it. How many times did you shave this morning?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Fair comment.” Jasper agreed. “Is there
anything repetitive you need to tell us about?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“<i>No</i>.”
Dale pulled himself together and answered that properly. “No sir, there isn’t.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Would you call this acting in?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There were serious down sides to living
with a psychologist. Dale took a deep breath, aware Jasper was giving him a
chance to pull this together, fast, and he needed to take it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“…….strictly speaking, maybe. Not
intentionally to cover anything up, I just intended to be here and available
to…..”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Help.” Riley supplied. “AKA ‘doing most
of everything’, because taking over the universe makes you feel better.
Temporarily.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dale let out a sharp sigh, knowing that
infuriatingly, Riley had nailed it. <i>He
doesn’t really know. Too much leash and he’s stressing. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Grrrrr.
<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“….I’m possibly more wound up than I’d
realised. Nothing specifically that I can think of.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Ok.” Jasper said evenly. “Acting in
sits where?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Level two.” Dale admitted. “Although
that seems a bit drastic? That is it, there is nothing else happening. I’m
sleeping fine, eating fine.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Controlling the universe fine, warp
speed with chainsaws fine…” Riley muttered on the landing. Jasper ignored him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Good. Then we’ll try a couple of days
at level two and see if that helps you settle down. Bring me the books from
your room. We’ll let the others know at dinner.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Damnit.</span></i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dale headed upstairs, with the very
mixed feelings that a drop in levels usually raised in him. He’d written a lot
of the levels plan himself. It worked and it helped. It was something he and
Riley and Tom had spent a lot of time considering, and there were only a few
bits that Flynn and the others had felt they needed to add, but that didn’t
always make it easier. Riley was still at the top of the stairs and his expression
mostly said <i>I’m mad at you, and you
needed that, but I’m still sorry you’re in trouble. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It was a dichotomy that both of them had
to deal with at different times: knowing well what another brat needed,
especially when it came to each other, but knowing too how it felt to be on the
receiving end. Riley followed him down the hall to his and Flynn’s room,
watching him gather up the spy thriller and the international law text book
from the night stand. One of the key rules of level two, which boiled down in
essence to ‘stop everything and focus on calming down, right now’, was light
reading only, and neither of these would pass. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You know there’s probably easier ways
to get what you want?” Riley said behind him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I didn’t ‘want’ anything.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Other than a whole lot more
supervision.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Argh. Flynn, Jasper and Paul, and Riley
too, were quite clear: there was a complicated relationship between stress and
behaviour, and a drop in levels didn’t necessarily equate to him doing anything
wrong, or any failure on his part. To anyone that didn’t know him, this would
seem an over the top response to a minor thing, but stamping on the embers of
the early stuff worked well to stop the bigger stuff producing random towering
infernos. Riley grabbed him in the doorway and gave him a hard, annoyed hug. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Leaving
the ranch this close to Christmas, a trip that’s important for important
people, is probably ‘stuff’. Meeting family you’ve never actually laid eyes on
before is probably also ‘stuff’. </span></i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Memo.
Grip. Get one. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dale returned the hug, long enough and
close enough that he felt Riley relax a little. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Are you going to be ok doing this?”
Riley muttered. Dale held on to him, saying it and meaning it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes. I am. Don’t worry. It will be ok.”
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Jasper was waiting on the landing and
took the books from him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Thank you. Go choose yourself something
light from your shelf in Paul’s room, and come have a bath with me.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia7ivTUpA7_SLwXav1bkUiyX9gDtmUNvjbQHxgs0T1byfd6JY-RHsaHEuWtrKZss5wQvFGXDTwtNgDcPjxZcLapx-808i3HkgyoWCZ3YK8F40rgwsEhb353joznudQ5vNbghJ8uT0UL7M/s1600/IMG_3715.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia7ivTUpA7_SLwXav1bkUiyX9gDtmUNvjbQHxgs0T1byfd6JY-RHsaHEuWtrKZss5wQvFGXDTwtNgDcPjxZcLapx-808i3HkgyoWCZ3YK8F40rgwsEhb353joznudQ5vNbghJ8uT0UL7M/s320/IMG_3715.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Neck deep in hot water in Jasper’s arms,
the afternoon started to look a lot better. And Jasper was very good at getting
comfortable and then just letting quiet fill the room. There was never a need
to find words to talk or to entertain him, and he had the knack of soaking them
both in steady, good energy which meshed with Dale’s in a way he could watch if
he relaxed his eyes, and which tended to drag his own system back into
regulation. They’d been there a while when Paul tapped at the door and brought
two mugs of tea across to them, stooping to drop a firm and admonitory kiss on
Dale’s mouth as he put the mugs in their reach.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Flynn and I just had a very interesting
conversation with Riley. What’s this we’re hearing about chainsaws?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I did not do anything remotely
inappropriate with a chainsaw.” Sitting up precluded by Jasper’s arms around
him which weren’t moving, Dale watched Paul take a seat on the edge of the bath
and pull the phone from his pocket. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Well that’s a plus. Let’s get some
stress off you right now please. Ring your grandparents and see if they’re free
on the sixteenth at eleven thirty.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I wrote to them.” Dale protested. Paul
handed him the phone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes. And you know and I know you’re going
to sweat until you get their letter, so let’s get it over with. Date, time, you
and I will be free for an hour if they don’t mind us dropping in. If you enjoy
it and it goes well then we can always talk about a couple more visits before
we leave, but we’ll start with this one and see how you feel about it first.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“This trip is <i>not</i> going to revolve around…” Dale trailed off with some irritation
and Paul nodded, putting a hand down to touch his face. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“- your bloody family. That’s what you
want to say isn’t it? I know. We’re going for James and Niall, and this is just
a side line. It’s fine honey. But this is my decision, not yours, and I’ve made
it. Ring and ask please.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It was nine pm in England, which was
late to ring, but Paul clearly wasn’t going to debate it. And glancing up, Dale
took in Flynn, leaning against the door frame with his arms folded and an
expression that said they were going to be talking about this later. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And
let’s face it. If you’re afraid to ring them then how can you seriously
consider meeting them face to face? <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He knew the number. They’d shared it
well over a year ago when they first began to communicate by letter, but he’d
never used it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This
is a minor thing. An hour’s visit. That’s all. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Ring.” Paul repeated firmly when he
didn’t dial. Dale gave him an exasperated look. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I’m naked in the bloody bath, I don’t
exactly feel prepared.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Sweetheart there won’t be a moment when
you do feel prepared and I’m not going to watch you chew yourself up. Ring,
right now.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Bossy bloody Americans with no sense of
propriety. Since Jasper still wasn’t letting him move, arguing with Paul was
difficult at the best of times and Flynn was looking more purposeful by the
second, Dale dialled and tried to draw a proper breath, slightly shocked at the
fact he could feel his hand shaking slightly and the growing sense of
apprehension that was evolving from the nagging discomfort of the last few days
to active …. Fear. Which was so stupid. And meant Riley had it nailed; this was
heavy on his mind. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They
are nice people. You’ve written to them many times. You like them. They are
hardly going to bite you. And this is an hour, in a few days that is about
James and Niall, it’s just one hour of duty. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The phone ringing nearly made him
irrationally switch the phone off. It was answered by a male British voice. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Hello?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Good evening.” Dale reached for any
kind of normal tone and winced as he heard his work voice snap into the breach,
as even and calm as the other man’s. “This is Dale Aden. I wonder if I might-”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“<i>Dale?</i>”
the man sounded shocked but the tone was unmistakeable, it was no unpleasant
shock. “This is Richard. Hello, it’s nice to hear your voice.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What the hell did you say to that? Dale
held onto the phone, aware that Jasper’s arms had tightened around him and one
hand on his torso was rubbing slowly, soothingly. Across the room Flynn’s eyes
caught and held his, and the dark green could be intensely, unbelievably kind
in that gruff face. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">You
can do this. It’s going to be fine. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I’m sorry to ring you so late. I was
calling to say, I have a work meeting coming up in London, early on the sixteenth.
There is a letter on the way to you asking too, but it was – it seemed better
to ring you directly. I wondered if Paul and I might drop in to see you
afterwards, about eleven thirty that day if you were free?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes of course, we’d be delighted. Can
we give you lunch?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dale glanced to Paul who shook his head
with far more decision than Dale could summon up. Cued and relieved, Dale took
a deep breath and found some words. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“No, thank you, we’ll only be able to
stay an hour, but it would be very nice to see you if…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">His invention ran out there and he
trailed off. The man’s voice was gentle. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“We’d be delighted. You know how to find
us?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes, yes thank you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Then we’ll look forward very much to
seeing you on the sixteenth at eleven thirty.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Thank you sir. Good night.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The man sounded far kinder than such an
incoherent lot of babbling deserved. “Goodnight Dale. Thanks for ringing.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Well done.” Paul took the phone as Dale
ended the call. “Now focus on settling down and let that go. If you’re
wondering if we can manage to stay at level two the whole time we’re away if
necessary then yes, I’m fine with that. Don’t look so shocked, it wouldn’t
surprise James and Niall in the slightest. This is a family affair, not a work
one and we have you covered.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">15<sup>th</sup>
December</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They left the ranch before two am on the
fifteenth for the drive out to Jackson airport, since the snow on the landing
strip precluded a jet coming directly to them. It meant saying goodbye to
Flynn, Jasper and Riley at the airport door since they were met there by a
uniformed person with a clipboard intent on whisking them away as fast as
possible. They were zoomed through a silent and deserted side route, led out
onto tarmac in sharp wind, and there a jet was waiting for them. Once they were
up in the dark sky and the flight attendant had come to ensure they, or more specifically
Dale, were comfortable and didn’t require food, coffee, phone or internet
connections, access to any flight information or a conversation with the pilot,
Paul took a look around the cabin that stretched into two separate rooms; the
seating area they were currently occupying with two armchairs side by side on
either side of a table, and the other a large sitting room area which included
two long couches, television screens, separate armchairs with reading lamps on
tables beside them, and enough floor space for a small yoga class. In terms of
giving James and Niall space enough to sleep, to lay down if they chose, to
walk around and to effectively spend the flight in a sitting room, it was
perfect. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp2t3MNwvEtuNT9itIpMFKb0zjcaTkCa6YRbKleoDgaloz4xQqWbpzDTiBcgEOoD7B79ZxVwN-J5Cv61-CMV4SawRFKI7dGV-aq3C8RlQvW5wxjnkMW9hOSaLxok3q6E9KBmKsZHdVCDI/s1600/unnamed.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp2t3MNwvEtuNT9itIpMFKb0zjcaTkCa6YRbKleoDgaloz4xQqWbpzDTiBcgEOoD7B79ZxVwN-J5Cv61-CMV4SawRFKI7dGV-aq3C8RlQvW5wxjnkMW9hOSaLxok3q6E9KBmKsZHdVCDI/s400/unnamed.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I had no idea they made planes this
furnished,” he said to Dale, who looked around at the cabin as though he hadn’t
thought about it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I specified what I wanted. I’ve
travelled in planes with fully equipped board rooms separate to the seating and
dining areas, but this seemed the most comfortable of the options they had.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">To him it was normal to the point of
boring. And he was quietly but sharply alert in the way he got when he was
running a mission, which said a lot about the mindset he was in. Flynn had had
a pretty firm word with him in the carpark, Paul had heard parts of it; it was
very rarely that Flynn couldn’t get Dale’s head exactly where he needed to get
it and calm him down. Paul reached past him to pull the shades down over the window
beside them and found the gadget to tip back the large, soft armchairs that he
and Dale were seated side by side in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Ok hon. Put your chair back and let’s make
up some of the sleep we’re losing.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They’d made three of these trips over
the past year together, on each occasion heading out to a business crisis
somewhere that would involve tense meetings. Enough that Paul had established
they slept through as much of night flights as was possible and could be fitted
around any necessary research, and that travelling was nothing strange or
separate from their daily life but as normal as anything else together. Flynn
had done the same a few months back when he and Dale went out to Alabama and
Flynn had made him take a commercial flight. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Don’t give him an inch.” Flynn had
muttered into Paul’s ear as they said goodbye. It had made Paul hug him a
little harder. It was not easy for Flynn to step back and watch them go, and
Riley wasn’t exactly happy either. The addition of Dale’s grandparents in
London was a complication and it was more on Dale’s mind than he was letting
himself think about. They’d all read the letters that Dale had shared with
them; there was no doubt in Paul’s mind that Mr and Mrs Aden senior were decent
people who would make the same effort for Dale in person that they took over
their letters.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But
if they’re cold… If they ask a lot of questions…. If they drag up some of the
hard stuff, or criticise Olivia…. Even us being in London with a plan to see
them is a return to the scene of the crime. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Paul pushed those thoughts away with an
effort, and instead worked on dozing in the warm, quiet cabin with the comfort
of Dale’s weight against him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As they came into land at Lansing airport
in bright winter sunshine the flight attendant came to inform Dale that the car
was waiting, the weather was cold but fine with no delays expected and their
take off slot was allocated. All this was rattled out as if it was urgent to
guarantee to him that there would be no hold ups or mistakes. Dale thanked her
as courteously as he always did anyone he worked with, which didn’t intimidate
her any less. He wasn’t doing it on purpose, he wasn’t even aware of doing it.
This was simply Dale with his mind on the game, and Paul gave the woman a smile
with sympathy as she passed him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A limousine was waiting on the tarmac
and someone in a suit with a clipboard promptly got out, waiting until the
flight crew had the steps down before they opened the car door and ushered the
two figures in heavy coats across to the plane. Dale went down to meet them,
Paul saw him jog across the tarmac to instruct the chauffeur with the suitcases
as James hustled Niall up the steps. He still looked thin to Paul. Niall was
bird boned and always had been but the flu bout had taken a lot out of him this
winter. His cheeks were bright with the cold as Paul hugged him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Good morning! How bad was the snow as
you left?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Only a foot or so, it’s not been that
heavy yet. Good morning,” Paul kissed James, watching him help Niall out of his
heavy coat. “Have you been waiting long?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Ten minutes?” Niall took a seat as the
flight attendant collected coats and scarves. “It’s all been typically Daled. The
car picked us up at the door, they’ve looked horrified at any suggestion we
should walk anywhere or carry anything, and we were whooshed through security.
Well this is luxury, isn’t it? Hello love.” He held out both arms to Dale as
Dale let himself in through the cabin door and left it to the flight attendant
to lock up behind him. “Thank you so much for doing this, are you having to
swot up for your meeting?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I did the reading before we left the
ranch, there wasn’t much.” Dale returned his hug warmly. “I know the situation
there quite well and it’s mostly a case of them briefing me. Good morning sir.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Hello.” James kissed Dale and took the
seat next to Niall’s, facing Dale and Paul. “This is even larger than the one
you took us to New York in, Dale. Are you expecting to host a dinner party on
the way?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Not at all sir,” Dale told him
politely. “Only the rear gunner.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">James laughed, so did Niall, and Paul
relaxed a little, settling into the seat next to Dale’s.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They ate smoked salmon and scrambled
eggs over Toronto, talked and read as they passed over Canada, and Paul noticed
Dale watching the land below them out of the window as the coast came into
sight. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Where’s this? Do you know?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“This is New Brunswick.” Dale indicated the
shape of the coastline which clearly meant something to him. “David would have
travelled through here. We’re not that far from Nova Scotia.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Not somewhere he had ever been, although
David had talked about it often. Paul looked with him as they reached open blue
sea. They were following the path that David had taken on his way to America. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The flight attendant brought them lunch
over the Atlantic, and Dale and Paul withdrew to the seating area section to
let James and Niall rest on the couches, which Niall joked about just being a
case of James wanting him to shut up for a while. It wasn’t James however who
fell asleep within a few moments, and Paul saw James watching as Niall dozed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He
hasn’t recovered as well as you’d like, has he? He’s no better now really than
he was at Thanksgiving. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Beside him he saw Dale watching too, and
reached for his hand to distract him before James saw them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Pass me my book, love?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dale collected it, lowering his voice as
he sat down again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Is it warm enough in here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes, plenty. We’ll let them rest and
hopefully they’ll both get some sleep.” Paul opened his book, settling into the
depth of the armchair. They read while James and Niall dozed, and watched the gradual
change in light towards dusk. It was past nine pm in UK time when they landed
at Heathrow in pitch darkness. An airport official with a British accent Paul
didn’t recognise came on board and talked rapidly with Dale as he sorted
through their paperwork and passports, cleared them and wished them a pleasant
stay, and the flight attendant took them down the steps into drizzling, windy
darkness on the tarmac to the waiting car. There was just under an hour’s drive
into London, an hour of freeway, busy streets and bridges brightly lit with
Christmas decorations, and the car drew up outside a Georgian style red brick
and white windowed building with a uniformed doorman who came to open the car
door. Dale gave instructions to the driver and the doorman and two more red
uniformed men who came out to take the cases from the trunk. Keen to get them
out of the wind, Paul guided James and Niall up the steps into the warmth of a
black and white floor tiled lobby with crystal chandeliers overhead, art deco
styled paintings on the wall panels and a large, white open fireplace by red
velvet armchairs where a Christmas tree was decorated in dark purple and silver.
Dale went to the desk and spoke to the receptionist, Paul watched him check and
sign several documents there, and then two of the red uniformed men took them
up a dark wooden bannistered staircase, showing James and Niall to one room
along the hall and then Paul to another. The room was a sizeable one. Two
windows looked down into a garden, two green armchairs stood by the windows by
a table with a tall vase filled with fresh flowers, and a tall king sized bed
in a wooden frame held a matching green quilt and several satin cushions
scattered against the pillows. A writing desk and wardrobe matched the Georgian
style of the room. Glancing through the doorway of the ensuite, Paul raised his
eyebrows at the free standing bath and a large marble counter with two sinks,
more fresh flowers and a rack of towels. Dale spoke to the uniformed man who
brought their cases in, and closed the door as he left.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy-WtWGZZCuLDNYqN3VaQu58BJL7eTtDXQhCQHHvB0XlfWJVgo9W94k1GE5Ibr8I94_t5LI36ZjzLm93IEZd8WWcCNeuM5ETXxSR2PfMFSvs4UpZDmUWFNe5j1W7MLCa6NbR-hTGUpEbU/s1600/71178_16062122130043916658.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy-WtWGZZCuLDNYqN3VaQu58BJL7eTtDXQhCQHHvB0XlfWJVgo9W94k1GE5Ibr8I94_t5LI36ZjzLm93IEZd8WWcCNeuM5ETXxSR2PfMFSvs4UpZDmUWFNe5j1W7MLCa6NbR-hTGUpEbU/s320/71178_16062122130043916658.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Their room’s warm and I think they’ll
be comfortable. The hotel is bringing them up a tray of tea. James says not to
worry about checking on them again, they’re going straight to bed.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Good. I don’t want to fuss over them,
but they must be exhausted.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You’re worried about Niall.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I think he’s looking fragile.” Paul
admitted. “It’s hard for him not to work when they’re at home, I know.
Consulting requests come in almost all the time and it’s not things that can
wait. I’m hoping being here with a complete change of scene helps. This is
beautiful, Dale.” Paul went to look out from the widows, distracted by the
thrill of this being London. The walled garden showed a green lawn and
shrubbery, and the pots of winter flowers against the windows were illuminated
by the hotel lights. “Did you order tea for us too?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes. Is there anything else you’d
like?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He was itching to unpack; Paul
recognised the signs and stepped firmly in front of him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">No.
You’re not organising me my lad. I know when you’re tense, and you’re not assuming
command while we’re here. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“No, I think we’ll do the same as the
others and turn in.” Paul opened the smaller of the two cases which he’d packed
with what they’d need for the night. “We’ll leave most of the unpacking for
tomorrow. Just put those suits on a hanger in the wardrobe love, or they’ll
crease horribly.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“James knows I need to be at the meeting
for nine. He said they’ll have breakfast here in the restaurant when they get
up and they’re planning on a quiet morning in the hotel. I suspect he means <i>he</i> is planning a quiet morning in the
hotel, I’m not sure Niall’s been consulted.” Dale unpacked the suit he would
need for his meeting and deftly fitted it on a hanger in the large wardrobe,
then began to add the other formal clothes they had brought with them. “I wish
you’d stay here with them. I don’t like to leave them alone their first morning.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Not a hope.” Paul said firmly. “I’ll
set the alarm for seven; that should give us plenty of time. James and Niall
were travelling in Europe before you and I were born. They’re very competent,
they don’t need nursemaiding.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“And I do?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Paul glanced up and smiled at him. “In
meetings, always. Go get ready for bed sweetheart.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A tray holding a large tea pot, cups and
saucers, sugar bowl and milk jug was brought into the room while Dale was in
the bathroom. Paul poured two cups and picked up the phone, finding an outside
line. It was four pm in Wyoming by his calculations, generally the time when
they would be making the most of the last of the daylight outside to finish the
day’s work. He waited while it rang until it went to messages. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Hi, it’s us. We’re here. It’s been a
long day so we’re pretending it isn’t four in the afternoon and going to bed,
we’ll call you tomorrow. Love you, sleep well.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Neither of them slept much. Dale spent a
while watching the drizzle running down the window pane in the faint light from
the garden below, aware that it was reaching two am their time, which made it
seven pm time at home. Paul turned over for the fourth time in several minutes
which made Dale strongly suspect he was stiff from the long hours travelling,
but this time he put out a hand to snap the bedside light on. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I don’t think this is working, is it? I
can still feel the vibration of the plane.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Can I get you anything?” Dale slid a
hand over to rub Paul’s neck where he suspected the stiffness was worst. Paul
shifted gladly to accommodate him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“No, I think it’s just jetlag and too
much sitting time today. I feel in need of a walk and some fresh air, come on.
We might as well go out and have a look around as lay here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A few staff in the lobby nodded and
smiled at them as they went out through the main door. It felt surprisingly
warm outside for December having left snow this morning, and having had snow on
the ground much of the time since early November this year. Paul turned his
collar up against the rain, which was light and slow enough to not really be
rain so much as mildly annoying, and Dale led them to the right, down the
short, quiet street to a main thoroughfare with a long dark building taking up
the whole of the opposite side of the street. Some barred arched windows
occupied parts of the street level floor with proper windows starting above.
Doorways and a high wall sheltering a yard continued to take up the whole of
that side of the pavement. On the other side where they were walking, most
shops were closed up but a couple still had lights on. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“That’s the back of the Royal mews.”
Dale commented as they walked by. “Coaches, horses, cars. This is a part of the
palace.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Really? It doesn’t look palace-like?
More like somewhere Oliver Twist lived.” Keeping their pace at a relaxed and
steady one, Paul walked with him around the corner to a street named Buckingham
Palace road, where the shops to their right suddenly became considerably larger
and posher, and the gloomy building wall suddenly opened up into a large gated
yard where lions guarded pillars above the black wrought iron gates and a clock
tower entrance to a much grander section of building was visible across the
yard. The road curved on past a high stone wall and in the distance through a
thick cluster of trees, an ornate white building came into view. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjApg1bOcvkJR2U5N19I-QEYvB2yqCtQwj_EbtLGJ4oU2Y3uyBYlC9D12r6BHQ9QEkwX1KnEH4ALR8QTmpZq2pI3Rb1zgQCSUU_p7_WuakMb65jVEjJgDopPIZhZiWSZ9pnzExx-IPKqv4/s1600/bp-winter-708.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="497" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjApg1bOcvkJR2U5N19I-QEYvB2yqCtQwj_EbtLGJ4oU2Y3uyBYlC9D12r6BHQ9QEkwX1KnEH4ALR8QTmpZq2pI3Rb1zgQCSUU_p7_WuakMb65jVEjJgDopPIZhZiWSZ9pnzExx-IPKqv4/s640/bp-winter-708.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“That’s the palace.” Dale walked with
him on down the road past the shops and passing cars until the road widened out
to their left, changed from grey asphalt to something of a pinkish hue and the
grimy streets suddenly fell away, giving place to wide green lawns and black
railings with gold topping. The palace was clearly visible now through the
railings, and was unmistakeably palace-like. Paul stood in front of it for a
minute, taking in the view. They passed ornate gates in front of the palace
itself, and as the road widened out into a huge open space a very large white
marble monument was visible in front of them with the base surrounded by white
statues and the top holding a golden statue. An angel. As they got closer Paul
saw the angel was standing above a crowned woman seated on a throne and paused
to look up into her face. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Queen Victoria?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRpmIIF8gIoaWrIvEUw9Bfhafz3DyuD8L4fiVl8k6SBcdocKVgyORfXfJZSCZ_rF_WElDdJSffnOQTFL4Qs1o51eA9qPvqOK1ae49gnVKLBkMV-18k7suwJb4OcFsmPE2sz5xu2-P23aE/s1600/w_1200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRpmIIF8gIoaWrIvEUw9Bfhafz3DyuD8L4fiVl8k6SBcdocKVgyORfXfJZSCZ_rF_WElDdJSffnOQTFL4Qs1o51eA9qPvqOK1ae49gnVKLBkMV-18k7suwJb4OcFsmPE2sz5xu2-P23aE/s320/w_1200.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes. That’s the Victoria memorial. And
Green Park beyond it in front of us, and St James park to the right. St James
Palace is over that way behind the trees.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The sense of history here was tangible.
Something occurred to Paul and he tore his eyes of the face of Victoria. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You’re well versed in this. I didn’t
think you knew London that well?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I know the main business offices, that’s
all really. But this is one of the most well known and most photographed bits
of London.” Dale paused for a moment to look at the palace windows in rows
beyond the railings. “And I didn’t live far from here as a child. My father was
with the Lifeguards, which is a division of the household cavalry. Horse Guards
parade ground is on the far side of St James park over there.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Seriously?!</span></i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Not prepared for that much of a shock,
Paul followed his gaze, trying to gauge distance. “We’re that close?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“About a fifteen minutes walk.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Oh lord. They were staying in a hotel
across a park from <i>that</i> house. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Paul thought rapidly, cursing himself
for not thinking of this and checking. London seemed, from the safe distance of
Wyoming, a vast place and he’d assumed – <i>we
<u>all</u> assumed</i> – they were well away from anywhere that familiar to
him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But
he knew. And he chose to be here. He’ll have thought of this. </span></i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The
best approach was usually to ask him straight out. <i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Do you want to go and see it?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dale paused for a moment, looking at the
park across the road. “No. There’s nothing there I need.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The mares weren’t bothered by snow. They
were happy enough to come to the feeding stations but most of them would
patiently scrape back the snow to find the grass too where they could. The
corral and paddock horses wore coats, but the risk of letting the wild horses
roam with straps and cloth to snag was too great. Instead Bandit led them in
between the rocks and into the woods for shelter, and they pressed close in
groups for warmth. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">At the edge of Mustang Hill, Dale looked
down from the cliff at the circle of mares and the now six month old foals
gathered together where the river was wide and shallow and they could drink. It
was fast flowing despite the snow, and would stay clear for a few days. Flynn,
one booted foot braced on the rock beside him, leaned out to check the ones
closest to the cliff face. They were all there. All together with no
difficulties in sight that Dale could see. A huff behind them made him turn,
and Flynn straightened up as Bandit walked through the trees towards them. He
must have followed them up from the pasture. He came to stand in front of Flynn
and for a moment the two of them looked at each other in the way Dale loved and
had seen them do so often, man and stallion eye to eye. Then Flynn rubbed his
nose and walked past him to join Dale on the path. Bandit followed them down
through the trees. The snow was thinner and softer here, mounded over the heaps
of leaves and greenery and their boots crunched as they walked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Tell me about the boats.” Flynn pushed
a snow laden branch aside and held it back for Dale to follow him. “The
invasion landings, I took a quick look at the veterans’ site.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxey4ZupruELMQ3zF1IzbKhJOWl3_II8DIr9GArYwUsfj0OjqSKVM0TjoG-aljmMa54OGXSMuTdDHBvPYJ-2UP5k13CPP4j17xxRIXtqy7Fr7onN9NuvgPjphKAxRv11tV3wgtbMRDkbA/s1600/220px-Darke_APA-159_-_LCVP_18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="170" data-original-width="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxey4ZupruELMQ3zF1IzbKhJOWl3_II8DIr9GArYwUsfj0OjqSKVM0TjoG-aljmMa54OGXSMuTdDHBvPYJ-2UP5k13CPP4j17xxRIXtqy7Fr7onN9NuvgPjphKAxRv11tV3wgtbMRDkbA/s1600/220px-Darke_APA-159_-_LCVP_18.jpg" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiifdkD5A1HicmhyG-4MzWNeKCWKmOoPoGGXu1oX3XoWu3ETz_5J9zp2iClntdBBAma5cFEi7wPFeDxJC9HrJkxg8xJiMPldt8bmaoktbA6f2Jb7-B_XflNIdBp7SaVw7KqYgYrdzyU2TI/s1600/hamble-waterfront-780x340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="780" height="139" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiifdkD5A1HicmhyG-4MzWNeKCWKmOoPoGGXu1oX3XoWu3ETz_5J9zp2iClntdBBAma5cFEi7wPFeDxJC9HrJkxg8xJiMPldt8bmaoktbA6f2Jb7-B_XflNIdBp7SaVw7KqYgYrdzyU2TI/s320/hamble-waterfront-780x340.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I’ve never seen the ports on the south
coast. There were a number of them all the way along, with the main ones around
Southampton.” Dale followed him through the woods to where Hammer and Leo were
waiting patiently in the shelter of the trees. “The first invasion was the
Normandy landings. American troops amassed at camps in England over weeks –
probably months – and they were transported down to their allocated ports to
board the boats. Hundreds of boats going back and forth. About 132,000 men went
over on D day. Niall went a few weeks later in the second invasion to southern
France. It was his division that liberated Dachau, the concentration camp.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“That part I know about.” Flynn said
grimly. “There’s a few books on it in the study that Philip owned. Jasper and I
read them years ago.” He ran his hand over Leo’s ears, checking their warmth,
then pulled a thermos from his saddle bag. Dale watched him gulp hot tea from
the cup which steamed. “It’s unimaginable. What they must have seen and had to
deal with, it makes me…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Yes. Having seen some things in third
world countries, the wreckage of war, the military and humanitarian operations
struggling, Dale had some knowledge of it. But from within a suit, while well
fed, clean and protected. An observer. When he left for London tomorrow morning
it would still be as an observer to the people who truly knew, but at least an
informed one. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Flynn handed him the half full cup and
Dale swallowed the rest of it, leaning one arm across Hammer’s wide back. They
were damned lucky to be here. Safe and alive, and together. It was another
reason they owed it to James and Niall to make this trip work for them, and to
Wade too even if he chose not to have to participate. Flynn leaned beside him,
easing off his gloves in a way that caught Dale’s eye. Then a very certain hand
found its way under his jacket, explored the waistband at the back of his
jeans, and Dale rose slightly on his toes as it found its way slowly lower. Flynn
knew every spot on him, he had an unerring internal map and he knew the exact
places to… his knees nearly gave way despite Hammer’s support and Flynn’s arm
caught him, steadying him and taking some of his weight. Dale heard his silent
laugh against the back of his neck, Flynn’s warm breath on his cheek and the
gentle brand of his mouth starting to softly lip around the edge of his ear. He
would have got a hand back to get hold of whatever part of Flynn he could in
return. Except that hand began to move, expertly, while Flynn supported him
right where he was against Hammer, and conscious thought and coherence and in
fact anything else at all became impossible to think about. When he finally got
it together enough to twist around and find Flynn’s mouth they were both
breathing hard, their breath steaming in the freezing air, and the soft snorts of
the horses in the silence of the pure white, snow covered wood. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Keep that in mind while you’re in
Europe,” Flynn said in his ear when they paused for air. “And I’ll finish it
properly when you get back.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Oh yes. No matter what else happened in
London, it was going to be very difficult to get his mind completely off that
promise or what the mere thought of it did to him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dale stirred, turning over in the
darkness of the deep and soft hotel bed against Paul’s back and oriented for a
moment. The clock stood at four thirty am on the bedside table. They’d come
back at least more tired from the walk, but it was still irritating to see
hours left in bed to go. With an effort he settled himself to doze again,
losing himself in images of Flynn and the snowy woods at home. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And somehow he was turning off a
bathroom light, finding his way back to a bed angled differently to his and Paul’s,
and settling under covers against a chest that was harder and thinner than
Paul’s. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Go back to sleep.” James’ voice said in
his ear. Dale felt himself curl up deeper against the chill of the room and
Niall’s voice answered from his mouth. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Not tired.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You are, you’re just too tired to feel
it. Lay still.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I wonder if room service do tea at this
hour? I’m serious, I’m cold.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">James sighed, but Dale felt him shift
and pick up the phone beside the bed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I hope the others are getting a better
night,” Niall’s voice said reflectively as James finished ordering and put the
phone back. “What time are they meeting Dale’s family?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Paul’s plan was for around eleven
thirty. It’s his grandparents I think. I didn’t like to ask questions, we know it’s
a bit of a sensitive area. I said we’d find our own breakfast and have a quiet
morning.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“James. We’re in London. There’s about a
hundred places I’d like to go.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes. And we shall start by appreciating
a London bed, and a London restaurant for breakfast, and then the lounge or
this room and its view.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Vacation in bed. Seriously?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There was a tap at the door and James
rolled to his feet, pulling his dressing gown on. “Relatively seriously, yes. That
sounds like your tea.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">16<sup>th</sup>
December</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dale
was awake before the alarm. They showered and Dale took the work suit out of
the wardrobe, mechanically finding his way into the very pale but still somehow
clear aqua shirt that Paul had packed. Paul came to look over his shoulder as
he hesitated over the silk tie that had been put with it. A bright, strong
royal blue, but with widely spaced and very thin stripes of equally bright
orange and aquamarine. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTgs9_6sWty1C7OIAbRIb2jgeNRPDDtqB5Ume-NwH6Smpy1Nba_0JXTKXeaxu7l3YlHYpranFDaVO3t2thnNT6hFJUOySGxAL4R1od6eekqO7AS7Ls4-8QfUrI67QCz02HfYqL1jci0uM/s1600/IMG_5773.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTgs9_6sWty1C7OIAbRIb2jgeNRPDDtqB5Ume-NwH6Smpy1Nba_0JXTKXeaxu7l3YlHYpranFDaVO3t2thnNT6hFJUOySGxAL4R1od6eekqO7AS7Ls4-8QfUrI67QCz02HfYqL1jci0uM/s320/IMG_5773.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">“I put in the silver one.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes. Because your plan is to fade into
the background.” Paul took it from him, settling the tie around his collar. “It
doesn’t work. You can’t fade anywhere, and you’re anything but a boring or cold
person, You look a whole lot more yourself in colours and clothes that match
you than you do if you try to hide.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It was a bizarre theory, but Dale had to
admit he’d proved it. “And you’re right. I’ve seen the effect, I agree. But
does it really <i>have</i> to involve
orange?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“This morning, yes.” Paul said firmly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“It started with purple shirts….” Dale
said darkly, watching him fasten the tie. Paul laughed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“And it was all downhill from there.
See? On you, that looks perfectly professional. Just not scarily so. And it
balances your eyes and how dark you are, otherwise you start looking like a
column of black.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Well Tom calls me the Angel of Death.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You’re not going to have to do anything
grim today.” Paul slipped his arms around Dale’s waist and kissed him. “Take a
deep breath and relax. We are going to be fine. You’re good at these kind of
meetings too, I know you are. Now unmake that bed and let’s go get breakfast.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I like the room tidy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I know you do.” Paul gave him a mild
swat towards the bed. “And with an orange tie and an unmade bed this morning
you’re going to feel a lot better.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">That would have been insane coming from
anyone but Paul, but it was in its own uniquely weird way, very true. Dale took
a seat at a table in the restaurant downstairs and Paul ordered for them both,
which was another way he discreetly lifted away stress. And he knew without
asking that eating this morning was not going to be easy, and that poached eggs
on toast and orange juice were light enough to at least try. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They’d discussed levels the night before
he and Paul left. After the working at high speed issue, Jasper had kept him on
two for a couple of days before shifting him up to three, and the discussion had
led to a unanimous vote of him staying on three throughout the trip. While
level four, which pretty much boiled down to life as usual with no more specific
or additional supervision or measures than Riley had, was the ideal, it was
normal too that any time he was away from home, or working on anything high
stress at home, it was an automatic level three situation. And while part of
him was annoyed at his own lack of competence to reach and stay on four no
matter what – something Flynn had got firm about several times - another part
of him was emphatic that it helped in multiple ways. Not least that he liked structure,
he liked the stability of knowing exactly what to do and why. But what helped
most was that it was straight forward open knowledge between all of them. <i>You are under stress, and we handle this
together. So we’re going to stick to this level of rules and limits, you know
exactly where you stand and what you need to do, and that’s how it’s going to
be today.</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Leash, as Riley would put it. It would
have driven Riley insane. To him… <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Yeah,
well you like your pie charts. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He could almost hear Riley’s teasing,
and the sheer acuteness of missing Riley tightened his throat for a moment.
Across the table Paul was eating poached eggs too, relaxed in a dark navy
sweater over a shirt that matched his eyes. Neat, smart casual wear that suited
him well and made him look like any other PA. It was a role he’d played more
than once, doing nothing more than quietly and competently handing Dale
anything he needed, but mostly just being there. Flynn had done the same in a
New York office with Luath just over a year ago, although a whole lot less
discreetly and much more in a Flynn sort of way. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Casually so Paul wouldn’t notice, Dale
glanced at his watch. Seven thirty am British time. Shortly after midnight in
Wyoming. Flynn and Riley would be asleep. Jasper would more likely be out
somewhere in the darkness and the snow, maybe in the woods where the snow made
everything silent and lit the shadows under the moonlight and turned his eyes
to liquid black... <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">If
you don’t get it together you’re headed for trouble. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And that meant making a serious attempt
to eat, to stop hiding it and to talk rather than shut those thoughts away.
Dale took a discreet breath and drained the glass of orange juice, forcing a
slightly tight stomach to accept it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I have a ridiculous urge to ring
Flynn.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You know he wouldn’t find it ridiculous
at all?” Paul didn’t sound surprised. “If you want to call him then call him
darling, he’ll be glad to talk to you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“They need to sleep and I’m all right.
Just….” Dale trailed off. Paul leaned over the table to catch his gaze, his
eyes very soft. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Now stop it. Anybody, and I mean
anybody sane and normal, would be beyond proud that you were theirs. My
grandmother and mother would have adored you. I’ve read the letters from your
grandparents. Do you think we would let you walk into this without being clear
if we thought you were walking into a rough situation?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">No. They wouldn’t discourage but they
certainly would do everything they could to prepare him. Paul was waiting for
him to think about it. Dale sighed, hard, putting his fork down and ceasing to
pretend that he could eat. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I am <i>not</i> good at this kind of thing. I don’t know how to do it and I
hate not knowing. The meeting this morning? Easy. I know exactly what to say
and what to look for. I know how to make sure we shop for whatever you want to
this afternoon, I know how to get James and Niall to the cathedral and help
them through that however they want, I’ll figure that out if it kills me, and
that is easy. That’s what I came here to do.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But
this…..?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Of course it’s not easy, it’s a
complete unknown.” Paul reached for his hand across the table and held on to
it. “You like to know what’s coming, and we don’t. That’s hard. I know
sweetheart, we’ve talked about this. I’m right here, and it does not cost James
and Niall or anyone else if we make this visit. I can’t promise you it’s going
to be ok but I can promise you we’re going to do it together. Come on. If you
can’t eat then let’s go for a walk, that’ll help.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Outside, Paul slipped an arm through his
and they walked the same route they had last night, past the palace and into
the wide green space of the park, and it did help. Being outside and moving
always did. The trees were bare, but the wet grass stretched between the paths
and avenues. Softer, more muted green than at home, in more muted light. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDtghQ-HSevXvGpmnO8hKZA88hF1s9nnlZr50ConEjcaWDOYk1Ti7O_GcBdu99uSJcGQ_3mtwrYc3dxyi9Ljn3I5n1VnF-VO_PJzgsAY9gg9YhX6bOkPE5LjNzs4My1eneAA7qK_zRIqk/s1600/IMG_5767.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDtghQ-HSevXvGpmnO8hKZA88hF1s9nnlZr50ConEjcaWDOYk1Ti7O_GcBdu99uSJcGQ_3mtwrYc3dxyi9Ljn3I5n1VnF-VO_PJzgsAY9gg9YhX6bOkPE5LjNzs4My1eneAA7qK_zRIqk/s320/IMG_5767.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Good grief, that’s a pelican.” Paul
said in surprise as they encountered one walking on the grass by the lake side,
unperturbed by the joggers and the occasional cyclist passing by. Dale nodded,
unmoved by it. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes. There’s a colony of them. The park
was a menagerie originally. King James had camels and crocodiles here, and
Green Park over that way was a swamp and a burial ground for the lepers at St
James hospital. I remember someone telling me that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Do you know who?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“No. Not my mother. Possibly the
housekeeper, I don’t know.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But being very small, walking hand in
hand with someone tall, with a skirt on in a green space very like this,
probably less than a mile from here – oddly enough, that part he remembered very
clearly. Through the trees he caught a glimpse of a man with wild hair, tall,
in a long dark coat, looking directly at him with intensely bright blue eyes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">David.
<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In
London, standing in St James’ park. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Well that wasn’t too much of a surprise.
Location didn’t matter so much to David; he seemed to go more or less where
Dale did in Dale’s experience. The connection was between the two of them
rather than to a specific place. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">If
there are lepers around here or what-crocodiles needing help then can they
please hang on until this afternoon? Or this evening? The schedule this morning
is a little busy. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dale met those eyes with some
exasperation – that melted fast at David’s expression. The look wasn’t his usual
impatient demand to come do something useful. It was compassion and it was
almost – anger. Protective anger, it was an expression Dale had seen in Flynn’s
face before now, and Riley’s. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Beyond David, Dale saw the brief flash of a very
small boy walking hand in hand with a woman down the avenue. Paul’s hand
squeezed gently on his arm.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“What?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Ah.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The direction David was standing in was
the obvious one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Oh it was ridiculous to be afraid of it.
Pieces. Pieces to collect. Even the ones you did not want still had to be
collected. It was seven fifty one am. They had more than enough time. Dale drew
a deep, slow breath, looking at another large, white pelican perched on one of
the park benches as they passed it. The pelican looked back at him, unimpressed.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“The house. I think I have to. It’s this
way.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He knew the way from memorised maps and
routes, not from memory, although he must have walked it plenty of times. Right
out of the park, across a road and up a narrow alleyway by a tall white stone
building with pillars and along a road built high on either side with terraces
of large, high houses with the familiar stone steps, black railings, white
window frames and window boxes. Paul walked with him in silence, around the
corner into a small, curving and quiet road. The house looked much the same
from the outside as he remembered. A black front door up the stairs, shiny and
freshly painted, with an arched window above. Tall windows over the four
storeys above the street. Black railings sheltering the open yard below the
street and the windows that opened into the kitchen, scullery and the house
keeper’s rooms. He looked up at it and felt…. Very little at all. It was just a
house. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There was nothing left to be found here.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">The meeting
passed swiftly and he was able to lose himself in it to the point where no
other thoughts intruded. The British ANZ office team was a small one, they were
welcoming, well organised, keen to show him their work at its best, and his
rapid scan through the data and files he examined gave no cause for concern.
They made Paul welcome; Paul never had difficulty in knowing how to put people
at their ease. He would have waited in the outer office with the reception
staff, he waited for Dale’s cue and invitation and Dale appreciated it, but any
meeting with Paul at the table with him and Paul’s eyes to meet as he wanted
was a far more pleasant one.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">At eleven am they left the building in
Westminster and there the distraction of the meeting left him and ice hit his
stomach hard. Paul signalled to a cab, putting a gentle hand on his arm to
guide him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Let’s go. What’s the address honey?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It was a wide square in Belgravia, not
far away, where a crescent of tall, grey houses stood five stories with
crenellations on the top, high looking down on the central black railinged
garden. The black London cab dropped them across the road and Dale stepped out,
automatically holding the door wide for Paul. Paul surveyed the crescent as the
cab pulled away. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVQhiYrjeXHJzfFxmoitguq_nPinKQ2jFZ-RUSL0aECh0wRKrLCQAhvUr3odSNx39PExH8hC4ZoIwkXrS8IHV1m_PLUz2oPgDbG6KLIH7LptB7mRUbLLFNaUfC1OT_S9ZdmDAsbJuMsHY/s1600/c9bc15b7-613a-4149-a1d5-d9646fbe7a11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1061" data-original-width="1600" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVQhiYrjeXHJzfFxmoitguq_nPinKQ2jFZ-RUSL0aECh0wRKrLCQAhvUr3odSNx39PExH8hC4ZoIwkXrS8IHV1m_PLUz2oPgDbG6KLIH7LptB7mRUbLLFNaUfC1OT_S9ZdmDAsbJuMsHY/s400/c9bc15b7-613a-4149-a1d5-d9646fbe7a11.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Beautiful houses. How old are these?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dale glanced at the architecture,
pulling himself together. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“About mid nineteenth century.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Have you ever been here before?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“No.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Ok.” Paul slipped a hand through his
arm, drawing Dale back against the garden railings to see his face. “Now listen
to me. We’re planning to stay an hour. If at any point I signal to you that
we’re leaving earlier I expect you to do as I ask. And if you want to leave at
any time you only need to signal to me and I’ll do the rest. I will <i>not</i> expect you to have a good reason. Just
wanting to go is fine. I do have you covered and we won’t let this go wrong. All
clear?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dale met his eyes, nodding something
that was both acceptance and honest – not apprehension. Something else.
Something bleaker. “Clear. Yes sir.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Do you still want to do this? We don’t
have to.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes.” Dale looked past him at the
house. “I think it needs to be done.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Paul reached to straighten his tie slightly,
not that it was out of line. Dale didn’t do ties askew or jackets not seated
right, and in the classic suit that was one of the ones ANZ had tailored for
him, he looked fit and discreetly well dressed, with the sharpness of the icy
aqua shirt and the very thin flash of orange in the tie lifting it from severe
or sober to the liveliness and the bright colour of his eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“All right. We are going to be ok. Kiss
me, Hardy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It was a private joke, something he only
ever said to Dale. Paul saw his face warm briefly and he reached for that kiss,
one that Paul put all the affection in that he could. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Come on then.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Leading the way, Paul walked him across
the road towards the crescent terrace, across the marble area in front of the
door, and pressed the buzzer set into the wall. Dale swallowed, hearing the
tone ring deep in the house, and then a woman’s voice answered. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Hello?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Dale Aden and Paul Benoit, we’re
expected for eleven thirty.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes, one moment please.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There was a moment’s silence, then the
door was opened by a middle aged woman wearing a cardigan over jeans and trailed
by a stiff, slow moving and grey muzzled black Labrador. She smiled at them
both but Paul saw her eyes reach Dale and stop. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You must be Dale.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes.” Dale put a hand down to pet the
Labrador that came to greet him. The woman stepped back, pulling the door
wide. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Do come in. And you’re Paul. I’m Mrs
Toller, I’m the housekeeper. I’ll take your coats.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The hall was long and narrow, with a
polished marble floor and a long rug, and with a large and ornate gold framed
mirror hung on the softly grey papered wall above a polished table holding a
large vase of fresh flowers. A hallway extended into the distance through what
looked at a glance to be several rooms, beside a flight of white painted stairs
with a stair rod carpet track which rose in front of them. Their coats were
removed to a small cloakroom to the side of the hall and Mrs Toller made her
way up the stairs ahead of them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“This way. They’re in the front drawing
room, that gets the most sun in the mornings and there’s the view of the
gardens.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPelQBV0PAHMNHJLLOhSVjGaKe7XGVSmG4KOG7dK2C-5VhblByLcLvPaAxfzxSq5cFpuxH3ghwER89k0WaPSx8BJNb9idbSOYWTghIV7IlkxHeeee_qucPiDwoKOUPjNI0WwkX0Updwkw/s1600/IMG_5769.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPelQBV0PAHMNHJLLOhSVjGaKe7XGVSmG4KOG7dK2C-5VhblByLcLvPaAxfzxSq5cFpuxH3ghwER89k0WaPSx8BJNb9idbSOYWTghIV7IlkxHeeee_qucPiDwoKOUPjNI0WwkX0Updwkw/s320/IMG_5769.JPG" width="212" /></a><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Paintings hung on the stair wall, a
stained glass window lit the short landing on the stairs as they turned towards
the first floor, and as they reached a thickly carpeted landing Mrs Toller
opened a door into a room that must have once been two, but had been opened up
so that it extended from the front to the back of the house. In the far section
red and yellow pattered curtains hung floor to ceiling, framing a window out
over the garden. A table stood on a rug on a parquet floor with several
cabinets and cases of polished and shining Chinese design that looked several
hundred years old. Another and much larger rug covered the floor in the other
half of the room, set before a large fire place. Squashy couches and several
different armchairs were gathered around the hearth, and a tall Christmas tree
was decorated in purple and gold. By the window a woman had turned around from
a drop leaf desk where she had been sitting writing, and a man was standing at
the window near her, and had been looking down at the street. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Paul had seen a photograph of them that
they had sent, and knew they had seen the several of Dale that Paul had
encouraged him to send to them – but photographs didn’t bring to life the
reality of the person stood before you, and for a few seconds there was a fixed
silence where no one moved. The man was very much how Dale would look in forty
years from now. It was a shock to see his face and to recognise it so strongly.
He was about Dale’s height, his hair was in the final salt and pepper stage of
shifting to a bright white that said it had once been as crisply dark as Dale’s
was, and the bones, the fine line of his jaw, the build of him – it was so like
Dale. There was no mistaking the man as a relative of his. The woman – Paul
looked down at the seated, lightly built and graceful figure of the woman in
her seventies, her silver hair coiled neatly at the back of her head above a
tied dark blue scarf and a sweater, the simple drop earrings she wore, and
stopped at the equally silver eyes in her face that her grandson had inherited.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Mrs Toller very tactfully took the dog
by the collar and left, closing the door behind her. Then the man rapidly
stepped into the silence and came to Dale, offering a hand. The smile was warm
but contained, Paul saw it and knew the man was doing all he could to be
careful. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Dale, welcome. It’s lovely to meet you
in person. I’m Richard. This is Annie.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Annie. For someone whose name Paul knew
to actually be Antigone, the friendliness of the pet name helped too. She rose
to her feet and offered a hand too, doing her best to be polite but it was
plain she was struggling to take her eyes off Dale.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Dale I’m so happy you could visit. This
must be Paul? When did you arrive? Was it a horrible journey? Dale, you were
working at a meeting this morning?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes, not far away.” Dale accepted her
gesture to sit down, and Paul discreetly put a hand on his back, guiding him so
they sat together, side by side on one of the couches. Dale was stiff and very
upright under his touch. A small, red and white cavalier spaniel rolled over on
the cushion where it had been sleeping, surveyed them, and then snuggled deeper
into the cushion. A cat was sitting bolt upright on the writing desk where
Antigone – Annie – had been working, with its eyes shut in the thin winter
sunshine coming through the window. Christmas cards were lined up behind it and
spilling over onto the mantel, dozens of cards. In Paul’s mind that said a lot.
Social people, who liked to stay in contact. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“That’s a lovely tree,” he said to keep
the conversation light. Annie looked across at it and smiled, coming to take
the armchair next to Richard. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Thank you. We have to keep up with the
decorations, our great grandchildren will be visiting over Christmas.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“How old are they?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Nine, seven, five, three and two.”
Richard supplied, indicating a small group of photographs on a side table.
There were several there of teenagers and adults as well as newer ones of small
children. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">“We have four grandchildren – Dale being the youngest – and two of
them are parents now.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“And Dale’s the son of your youngest
child?” Paul said lightly. Annie picked up the furthest and largest of the
photographs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes. That’s all three of our children. Guy
is our eldest, that’s Amanda, our daughter, and that was Miles, Dale’s father.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Captain Miles Aden. The three of them
were deliberately posed, a young man who looked to be in his early twenties, a
girl of perhaps sixteen or seventeen and a young Miles. Paul knew the
photograph in Dale’s room at home, of the man in uniform. Here he was about
fourteen, but Paul could see the likeness in all of them. Dale in every face. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Guy’s two boys were a good seven or
eight years ahead of you at school,” Annie said regretfully to Dale, “They’d
all left before you started, so I know you never had the chance to meet them,
and Amanda’s girls went to different schools. Amanda lives in London, we see
her often. Guy is out in Cheshire, but he comes down at Christmas and the boys
do when they can, although they’ve got their wives and families to think about
of course. They were excited to know you were visiting,”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She stopped herself but Paul heard the
rest of the sentence. <i>We’ve never
forgotten you. We’ve always thought about you and missed you.</i> He
appreciated the sensitivity that made her leave it unsaid, as much as Richard’s
cheerful, “So how are the stock wintering? Are your late foals ok? What about
little Hope, is she strong enough?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It was the kind of light, every day
stuff that Dale wrote to them, the things Paul had encouraged him to share and
the small things that really mattered to Dale. And they’d remembered it. As
they encouraged him to talk – and drew him out, Richard quite gently but to
Paul’s eyes with a lot of skill – they knew the names of the horses, the
pastures, the minor incidents he’d mentioned. They cared about knowing the
practical realities of his life. Annie still couldn’t stop looking at him. She
was doing her best to conceal it, was making it as casual as she could, but the
hunger in her eyes was painful. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like to see
her son in Dale as he might have been if he’d lived, a son who’d never made it
past the age of twenty three. So very young, little more than a boy. In amongst
their table of framed photographs was one Paul recognised because he’d taken it
himself. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Dale, in his shirtsleeves on the porch with a glass between his hands.
Paul had taken it around mowing time, they’d all been hot and tired that
afternoon but satisfied with the growing mountain of hay bales, and the smile
in the picture was very much Dale. He’d given it to Dale to send to them. Paul
wondered if Dale had noticed himself in amongst that group; that his image was
kept in this room.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Tea was brought of course. Paul drank
his slowly, relaxing as the conversation went on and the cat went to sleep
amongst the letters. They wanted to talk to Dale, not him; of course they did.
But they were keeping it light and low pressure, doing everything they could to
make it easy. Dale had relaxed somewhat too. Paul could feel the defrost in
him, he was appreciating the warmth and the light touch. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">When the tea was gone
Annie glanced at Richard and Dale tensed a little, bracing himself.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“We wondered if you might have time to
see your father’s room.” Annie said lightly enough that it would have been easy
to refuse without being impolite. “This is the house he grew up in, there are
some of his things there if you’d like to see.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The spaniel came with them. The tall,
narrow house wound up two more floors over thick carpets and paintings on the
wall. Paul followed Dale in Annie and Richard’s wake, close enough that his
hand bumped Dale’s at times. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I
am right here. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">On one of the landings were several more
photographs and water colours of children, clearly grandchildren and great
grandchildren. But Paul saw Dale glance up and pause at one of the set. A large
black and white picture of a very young child, perhaps two or three, walking
with Annie hand in hand in what looked like a park. It was an old picture, it
looked as though it had been there for years rather than months. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Is that my father?” Dale asked
politely. Annie looked back with him at the picture, then glanced briefly to
Richard. Paul thought it was the kind of glance that one partner shot to
another for support. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“No, that’s you. We saw you sometimes
when you lived in London. That’s one of a few photographs we took of you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Did Olivia mind?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Annie looked at him and Paul saw the
shock that she covered quickly. “You call her Olivia? You’ve always mentioned
her as Olivia in your letters but I didn’t realise you called her that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I think I always have?” Dale sounded
genuinely unsure. Annie’s eyes were still more painful although the rest of her
face was quite normal. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“When we knew you, you called her mummy.
She never much liked pictures after Miles died, she took down all the ones in
the house, but we took you out a few times just for half an hour or so for a
walk when you were tiny – not far, it made her too anxious if you were out of
her sight for long.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">How
does that fit with a woman who shut the door on a toddler when she couldn’t
cope with him? But only when they were alone together? <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There was so much here on both sides
going unsaid. Paul felt the open pit of it at their feet and for a moment had
no idea whether it was better that they stepped in or stepped away. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dale was still looking at the picture. “So
it’s you I remember in the park? St James park? You told me about the
menagerie. And the leper graves in the swamp.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Annie’s smile grew tremulous. “Yes, that
definitely would have been me. I chunter on about all sorts of odds and ends,
I’m afraid I’m a terrible bore with random facts, but you were a toddler at the
time- I was talking just to be talking to you, I had no idea at the time you’d
understand or remember.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I remember.” Dale said gently. “I’m
another one for recording random interesting things.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Her smile deepened but Paul saw her eyes
blur with tears. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">On the third floor Richard led them down
a hallway and opened a door into a room. It was clearly used as a guest room at
times; a well-kept, very pleasant furnished room, with a large bed made up and
scattered with cushions, an armchair by the window and several ornate cabinets.
No museum or shrine to their son.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Goodness
knows we know all about those. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But there were several elderly rosettes
and a cup on a shelf – riding awards, Paul could see the faded writing –
several books on regiment history and a small pile of comic books. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“This was Miles’ room.” Richard said
cheerfully, “He and Guy had this floor to themselves. Most of his things were
in the Westminster house.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“The one in Old Queens street. Yes. We
walked there this morning.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“It’s rented at the moment, there’s a
friend of Guy’s with his family. Olivia saw to his uniform and bits.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">You
mean she disposed of them without you being allowed to participate.</span></i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
Paul saw it clearly and with pain through Richard’s matter of fact tone. <i>What was the matter with the wretched woman?
Do you know?<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Richard opened the larger cabinet,
crouching down to take something out that was heavily wrapped in silk. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“This was his. He collected a few
regimental bits when he was in Sandhurst.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He laid it on top of the cabinet and
unwrapped it. It was a ceremonial sword. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Lifeguards pattern sword.” Dale said
quietly. He was standing with his hands behind his back, not touching, but he
was looking intently. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“He had his own of course, part of his
uniform. This was just an antique he liked.” Richard rested it lightly on his
palms, holding it out to Dale. Dale took it, drawing it gently. It was a
delicate thing, and the blade gleamed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Steel bowl, brass regimental badge.
Circa about 1890.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He was absorbed. Paul watched him turn
it over, the light shining on the silver flat. Then he slid it back into the
scabbard and laid it back on Richard’s hands. Paul put a light hand on his hip,
a gentle pressure. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“It’s magnificent, I’ve never seen
anything like it. Thank you for allowing us to admire it, but my watch tells me
it’s time to head out, we’re meeting for lunch with our friends.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes of course.” Richard put the sword
back in the cabinet, laying it down with care. “Are they local friends, Dale?
School friends?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I know almost no one in the UK now,”
Dale said apologetically, following Richard down the stairs. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">“There’s a
memorial to the troops who took part the D day landings to be dedicated on
Friday in Sussex. One of our friends was stationed here in the UK before taking
part in the invasion and the other joined a division that had gone through it.
It’s an important day for them, we’re escorting them down to the service.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Richard was startled; Paul saw it for a
second before Richard covered it, but there was distinct approval in his tone.
The father of a serviceman of course there would be, he’d appreciate these
things the same way they did. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Yes,
your grandson is exactly this kind of a man. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“That should be quite a moving ceremony.
A lot of history that won’t be around much longer.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“They're seeing many of the other
veterans they've known for years drop away one by one.” Paul said regretfully.
“That makes it even more important to them to be there. We wanted to support
them, and Dale arranged for us to escort them down there.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“They've come a long way, I hope it’s a
good trip for them. It was very nice to see you Dale.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He had the Englishman’s gift for saying
a great deal with very little. Dale had it too. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“It’s been a pleasure to meet you both,
sir. I’ll write and let you know how the service goes.” Dale accepted Richard’s
hand and then, with a care which touched Paul, he stooped and gently kissed
Annie’s cheek. “Thank you for making us so welcome.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Outside on the
pavement Dale heard the door close behind them and Paul slipped a hand through his
arm.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Take us to a park, honey. Where is
nearest?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It was far easier to walk and not have
to think. A few minutes’ walk took them through increasingly busy streets until
they crossed a major one at a pedestrian crossing and a wide, yellowed
pedestrian street led into an avenue of trees. Paul slowed his pace there, which
made Dale slow with him, but they went on walking in silence. It was a damp,
grey noon, not raining but with water in the air and the grass shining faintly
grey with it. The bare trees were darker greys and browns, framing the wide
path. At the end of it they reached a narrower, more winding path through the
trees and a lake came into view in the distance. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">On a chilly and damp December noon there
were not many people in sight. Paul found a bench, took a seat on it and Dale
sat down beside him. After a moment he identified the source of a vague
discomfort, unfastened his tie, pulled it off and pocketed it, opening his collar
button and pulling it wide. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“What time are we meeting James?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I said we’d meet them at the hotel at
four. I left us time.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dale leaned back on the bench beside him
and gave him a quick, wry smile. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I like the interesting application of
‘we’re going to be late’.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Paul reached for his hand, taking it
firmly. “I thought you were very kind with them. I was proud of you, I think they
had a good experience there.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">From Paul, who was expert at hospitality
in ways that top hotels and industries could have learned from, and at socially
welcoming whoever whenever, that was praise that meant something and Dale
appreciated it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“They were trying hard to make it easy
for me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I noticed that too.” Paul said with
compassion. “It can see you meant a lot to them when you were small. It was
nice to see the picture of you on the stairs. Judging by the frame it’s been
there for years.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“It’s bizarre to have been a presence in
their house when I had no idea of them.” Dale swallowed on a very irrational
sense of impatience. “This morning when we were walking in the park I was
thinking of it. I remember walking in that park with a woman. I remember her
voice and exactly what she told me, it was interesting. But I don’t remember
her face or what her name was or anything else. And that was her.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Annie.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes. I appreciate they went straight to
their names and not that I needed to call them ‘grandmother’ or ‘grandfather’.
That was tactful. They were very kind.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I think they’re well aware this is hard
for you, and they probably don’t feel that they’ve earned it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Earned?” Dale said dryly. “Hardly. I
should have remembered them. I should have thought of this a long time ago and
made the effort to make contact.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Paul squeezed his hand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Your mom cut off contact. How is it your
fault for not finding a way around it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Flynn would say he was carrying Olivia’s
guilt for her. With a sharp and exasperated urge to just put this away and do
something else, Dale got up and brushed off his trousers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Harrods is about ten minutes in that
direction. Shall we try and get some shopping done?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“No, because I’ll decide when this
conversation is done, and not you.” Paul held on to his hand, but his voice was
deeply, painfully compassionate. “If I had to guess I’d think the worst part
about all this is that you’ve proved to yourself now beyond any doubt that they
are caring people who loved you as a child, who were hurt by the choices Olivia
made, and who would have been glad to be your family. And that must make it so
hard for you not to blame her. So if you need to walk, or to run for a while go
right ahead. Go do it, I can completely understand. I’ll be back at the hotel
when you want me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He’d seen it; the appalling urge to
stalk away and refuse to participate in this conversation any further. And as
usual, when Paul gave him up front permission to go ahead, it drained away a
lot of the anger, leaving something tired and much worse behind. Paul’s eyes
were soft and very warm when he looked at them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Come here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There was no one else around. Dale sat
down on the bench beside him, burying himself in Paul’s arms. Paul hugged him tightly,
strongly, and the deeply familiar comfort of him chased away a good deal of the
chill. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I’m glad you were able to meet them,”
Paul said against him. “That’s something you can build on as you want to, and I
see a lot of you in your grandfather so I think he’ll be as understanding as you
would be. But it is ok to be sad about it. It is ok to be angry. No one’s going
to know but us. It won’t hurt anyone love.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I did all that a while ago.” Dale said
heavily. “We’ve exchanged letters for over year, there was very little here
that I didn’t already know. This was an hour of small talk; that was all.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I know. But you can’t tell me that
being in their home, seeing them face to face, didn’t drag up everything you
knew and make you feel it all.” Paul ran a hand down his back, rubbing. “It
must have made it very real.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“That was the point of doing it.” Dale
pulled himself together with an effort and sat back, running a hand over his
eyes. Thankfully the park was quiet today; other than squirrels in the branches
green stained from the winter weather, there were no witnesses in sight. “The
only way is to walk into it. It is real. It did happen, and it happened to them
as well as me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You do have to revisit the scene of the
crime.” Paul said regretfully. “Yes, that occurred to me too.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Even
when it hurts like hell. The pieces are there. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You’re cold.” Paul got up, waiting for
Dale to follow. “We’re going to find some coffee and something to eat, and then
what do you feel like doing, darling? And I <i>mean</i>
what would you enjoy, not the next job on the list. We’ve got James and Niall,
ANZ and your grandparents sorted. We’re going to take an afternoon to ourselves
now.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Shopping was something that Paul had
taught him how to do, and which they both enjoyed, liking to wander shops and
markets and just look together, genuinely interested in ways that Flynn and
Riley couldn’t summon up at gunpoint, and that Jasper couldn’t sustain for
long, particularly in heavy crowds. For that reason Dale consciously relaxed
and took his time as Paul set a leisurely pace, and let the smells and colours
and beautiful displays pull his mind away and get the attention from him that
they deserved.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUUGooiOvu5potqmYy5l-M8UC0CpRSc9jA4A9ymbgmu6ytcniXP38aSJiWP45fgyFZCiCm4l10AUErciyqM0pDRduisya89cyMnW_Djuds0k95pmSAe4bE_AbbF1m9YDkBB8NOmXOsB0o/s1600/731886-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="566" data-original-width="850" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUUGooiOvu5potqmYy5l-M8UC0CpRSc9jA4A9ymbgmu6ytcniXP38aSJiWP45fgyFZCiCm4l10AUErciyqM0pDRduisya89cyMnW_Djuds0k95pmSAe4bE_AbbF1m9YDkBB8NOmXOsB0o/s640/731886-6.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">He’d walked
briefly through Harrods a few times, but never really stopped to look as they
were doing now. It was a vast Aladdin’s cave hung with Christmas decorations
and steeped in tradition that met you on the pavement with the long row of
canopied windows. The window displays were stunning. They stood for some minutes
looking at the white trees and castles and models in silver and blue lights,
like pieces of complex art behind glass, before moving on to the food hall. It
held the style of a Victorian market, with a white and black marble floor under
glass roof panels and wrought iron decorations overhead, much like the crystal
palace must have looked. Line after line of marble counters and barrows carried
the most fascinating things and were crowded with shoppers. Game counters, with
pheasants and partridges, rabbit and venison. Ducks, geese and turkeys of all
sizes. Fish counters where enormous sides of smoked salmon lay on ice beside
whole silver salmon. An entire section of pastries and cakes, handmade
chocolates and artisan candy. Cheese counters. Bakery counters with twists and
pretzels and rolls of all shapes and sizes. Counters and endless shelves of
jams and marmalades, chutneys and pickles and preserves.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“We can take any amount of cheese,
bakery products, oils, chocolates those kind of preserves and tea or coffee
back with us,” Dale said as they examined the cheese counter. “The things they
won’t let through customs are the meats. I believe the fish is ok for personal
use.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“A couple of smoked salmon sides would
be good, lots of people would enjoy those.” Paul paused, looking at the
selection in front of them. “I’ve never heard of most of these… if we can take
it on ice.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“That’s no problem, I can arrange for
anything we want to meet the plane and they’re used to transporting foods long
distance here.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Then a selection of these would be
lovely for buffets over Christmas.” Paul slipped his hand through Dale’s arm.
“I don’t know about the Wensleydale, or the Tintern Cheddar, and those potted
stiltons look good. And pickles to go with them.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Could we try the Wensleydale and the
Tintern please?” Dale said to the man behind the counter, who cut a small cube
of each and offered them on cocktail sticks. Paul tried them with interest. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Ok, they’re good. I can taste the herbs
in the Tintern.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“The Wensleydale traditionally goes with
apple pie or Christmas cake.” Dale pulled up the memory of restaurant meals
over the years. “You serve it in a slice alongside as you’d serve cream or
custard.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Now that’s an interesting idea. We
definitely need a couple of the Christmas cakes, you’ll have to guide me as to
what we need.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I never did Christmas in this country
and I have no idea.” Dale said frankly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You were just a helpless victim of it
happening to you?” Paul said with sympathy. Dale smiled, unable to help it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Well it happened near me, I was reading
at the time. I’m as in the dark as you are on most of this.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Then we’ll just make it up as we go
along, it’ll be fine.” Paul smiled at the man behind the counter. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Three of the
large potted stiltons please, a wheel of the Tintern, one of the 5kg blocks of
the Wensleydale… ok, let’s find some really weird chutneys. I have to work at
shocking Darcy and Gerry these days, they buy far too many peculiar artisan
things where they live.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He took Dale’s arm and they strolled
into the next room, Paul looking with appreciation at the rows of shelves and
barrows. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Wonderful. Although I have this nagging
feeling that someone should be standing behind me muttering about why would
anyone need to put champagne in marmalade, are we seriously going to pay that
much for a packet of tea when we could bulk buy tea bags for a quarter of that
which would taste the same, and he’s going to rope the woman with the stroller
if she runs it over his foot again.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Not really Christmas without it?” Dale
said with understanding. “I’ll try if you like?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Paul laughed, shaking his head. “No,
please don’t. You be you and we’ll manage. We’ll just take home a few things we
know will annoy him.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They spent the next half hour acquiring
marmalade with coriander; marmalade with whisky which seemed an even more
bizarre combination; ale and apple chutney; fennel, cucumber and gin relish
which Paul was particularly pleased by; black truffles and piccalilli. Several
boxes of artisan chocolate also joined the growing heap in the trolley, and
with Riley and Jasper in mind Dale selected several bags of very English sweets
from humbugs to jelly babies. And this was the joy of it. To wander amongst the
shelves and scents and bottles and jars, chatting casually about what was odd
and what looked interesting and what would go with what, when you were talking
about feeding the people you loved in a way that Dale could predict and
anticipate, from the buffet they would share by the fire listening to the carol
service on the radio to the breakfasts that served whoever happened to be in
the house at whatever time they happened to get up, matching a range of
different tastes and appetites. It was <i>nice</i>.
It was good. And somehow that made it harder. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He organised for groceries to be stored
and forwarded, following arrangements he had often heard made by PAs for guests
but never used himself. They were walking aisles full of colognes and
aftershaves, shaving equipment, unbelievably expensive small hand mirrors and
towels when Paul abruptly reached over and took his hand down from his mouth.
Dale belatedly became aware he was biting the corner of a nail that was
annoying him and stopped, letting Paul turn his hand over to look. The skin at
the corner of the nail was… well. Dale realised belatedly that perhaps it was a
bit more bitten than it should have been, and slightly bloody. Well. Visibly
bleeding down the side of the nail. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> A bit. All right, admittedly, fairly
bloody. Despite the crowded aisles, Paul let his hand go and Dale jumped as
Paul swatted the back of his thigh. Soundly. Through dress trousers it smarted
more than it usually did in jeans. Paul gave him a level look that was not
kidding in the slightest.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Dale Edward, put your hands behind your
back. Right now.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Starting to sweat and wondering when
he’d lost his mind, Dale put his hands behind his back to prevent the
compulsion to smooth that rough edge some more on the nail and the skin around
it, and kept them there while Paul paid for their purchases and organised for
them to be stored and delivered with their other things. After which he took
Dale’s arm and said very bluntly indeed, </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Jermyn street please.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Famous for men’s tailoring and
gentlemen’s outfitters. Dale had heard the name, although how Paul knew of it
he didn’t know. They took a taxi from outside Harrods for the just over a mile
journey through the streets, which passed Hyde Park, Green Park and the
distinctive frontage of the Ritz hotel on the way. On Jermyn street itself,
Paul took his arm again, surveyed the shop frontages which included a lamp lit
Victorian arcade of ornate wooden shop fronts, and led him directly through the
door of one of them. A red carpeted, neat shop with polished dark wood cabinets
everywhere, holding neatly shelved shirts, ties, handkerchiefs, cashmere
sweaters and silk pyjamas. It was the kind of place where the discretion of the
colours and patterns and the formality of it all was instantly soothing. It was
the kind of standard shop where he’d been taken for school uniform and school
outfittings in his youth, the kind of normal world of men he’d always liked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A man in a suit that was smart for its
understatement and crispness more than colour or cut, came to meet them and
Dale saw him take in the suit he was wearing, and probably recognise on sight
both the designer and the style. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Good afternoon gentlemen, how can I
help you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“A number of things please,” Paul said
briskly, “I’d like to see some pyjamas and ties, dressing gowns if you have
them, and we’ll start with men’s brushes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What?! </span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">That was not an innocent comment. Not at
all. With the still slightly wet to the touch fingernail behind him in his
casually linked hands, and Paul did <i>not</i>
put up with nail biting, scratching or any other form of displacement activity,
Dale felt his stomach dive as the man gestured to them to follow him into
another shelved section of the shop. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes of course. If you’d like to have a
look at these, I’ll lay out some of the pyjamas and gowns.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Thank you, that’s very kind.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">No,
it really isn’t. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The man left them alone in front of a
row of cabinet shelves holding rows and rows of extremely traditional men’s
wooden brushes. Hairbrushes and clothes brushes of every size. They had never
managed to look quite so sinister before. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You’re not seriously……” he managed to
start, rather weakly. Paul picked up one of the larger dark wood ones, hefting
it in a way that was still more alarming. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Since we need one this seems a very
good time to get one that is going to last us – well, certainly years
considering how well made these are.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“<i>Paul!</i>”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“And British to the core, which seems
very apt considering the use it’s going to be put to.” Paul thoughtfully
examined another couple, including a clothes brush with a large oval head. It
was impossible to look at them without vividly thinking of the weight and
exactly what the back of that head would feel like, and they were assessments
based on vivid experience of a Lexan paddle, a wooden paddle and an elderly
hairbrush on Paul’s dresser at home. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Do you have a preference?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes!” Dale stifled the urge to hiss it.
“To find the American Consulate, right now!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“On the question of whether or not you
can chew your fingers to bits I outrank the Embassy.” Paul said apologetically.
“Sorry about that.” He picked up another brush, a smaller one of very dark wood
with a shaped handle and an elongated oval head, trying it thoughtfully in his
hand, and then snapping the back of it briskly against his palm in a way that
made Dale’s stomach dive for cover in alarm and for him to reflexively look
around to make absolutely sure no one was aware of or watching. “Yes, this
seems ideal. Now. Pyjamas. Riley would like that, and I think probably James
and Niall would too. And Luath, who’ll wear them to annoy Darcy if not to
entertain anybody in bed.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He did it. He actually bought silk
pyjamas, two silk dressing gowns, several ties and a hairbrush. A very formal,
very British, highly polished and heavy wooden hairbrush. Dale’s opinion was
consulted several times on colours and patterns of said pyjamas but he had no
memory of them whatsoever; Paul could have asked if Riley would look good in a
small purple rhinoceros costume and Dale thought he probably would have
answered yes. However his hands were spot welded behind his back throughout and
the word ‘sir’ was getting distressingly frequent in use. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The journey in the taxi back to the
hotel was one of Paul chatting cheerfully- Dale had very little idea of what he
said – and as they stacked the last of the bags of purchases in the corner of
the room Paul hung his jacket up and said in the same tone of voice he
suggested they had a cup of tea, “Hang that suit up love.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And went to the gentleman’s outfitters
bags, extracting the carefully boxed hairbrush. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ9_GmjI_uvznGS2JcQQHGxv-gOo0Gh4q6j-BaEkq9ZjUMPmEjJrtY7gnGGbTfgweez2K5JxQLw19B9dh0x0ktNdUHWpEO_FPI1Z1hilcygwJjXRfwhtLTG9fiWqvBva_dE4jxVz5xzwc/s1600/IMG_5766.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ9_GmjI_uvznGS2JcQQHGxv-gOo0Gh4q6j-BaEkq9ZjUMPmEjJrtY7gnGGbTfgweez2K5JxQLw19B9dh0x0ktNdUHWpEO_FPI1Z1hilcygwJjXRfwhtLTG9fiWqvBva_dE4jxVz5xzwc/s320/IMG_5766.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This was actually a hairbrush in a box. In
the weird world of gentlemen’s outfitters, people <i>put </i>hairbrushes in boxes on purpose. Dale mechanically hung the
suit neatly on hangars, very aware indeed of Paul extracting the dark wood
hairbrush from its box, laying the box neatly on the bed, and himself taking a
seat on the end of the bed with the hairbrush in hand. Removing his trousers
and hanging them up was not the easiest thing to do, and he was standing there
in shirt and shorts putting away the folded tie from his pocket when Paul quite
cheerfully and mildly patted his lap. With the hand not holding the brand new
dark wood hairbrush. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It was a deeply sinister and unhelpful
gesture all things considered, particularly while holding a deeply sinister and
unhelpful brush. The matter needed to be raised at a brat’s meeting. Motion
presented to the group on humanitarian grounds: petition to simply grab arm and
pull, while on no account visiting gentlemen’s outfitters. Paul was waiting
patiently. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Aware that he was starting to sound
slightly hysterical in the realms of his own head and that he was stalling,
which was both pathetic and not particularly well behaved, Dale made the few
steps across to Paul with extreme lack of enthusiasm and laid himself over
Paul’s lap. It was an unfortunately familiar position and experience, not that
Paul really spanked him that often – but when he did it tended to be memorable.
He was used to the warmth of Paul’s lap beneath him and the way Paul’s hand
rested on his hip, the slightly different position to the one that Jasper used
or that Flynn used, but this time he was very acutely aware of every move Paul
made, and braced on his elbows on the bed it was extremely difficult not to look
back and try to see exactly where that vile brush was. Paul comfortably and
unfortunately expertly slid his shorts downwards to his knees, brushing up the
tail of his shirt to push it out of his way which did nothing to make Dale any
more relaxed. The first brisk thwack of the brush against his bare behind made
him jerk and his eyes open wider along with his jaw and a discreet but distinct
breath in. It stung. Two more swats with it, placed one on either cheek, and he
would have been prepared to sign an affidavit to that effect. The bloody thing <i>stung</i>. Just enough weight to it that it
landed very firmly indeed but that dark polished wood nipped like a mouse trap.
He was struggling to stay still after the first half dozen and as Paul began to
apply the wretched thing to the lower half of his butt and perilously near the
top of his thighs he couldn’t help squirming in earnest and relinquishing any
kind of dignity. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Paul – ok, I’m sorry, it won’t happen
again!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“What, biting your nails?” Paul sounded sympathetic
which did not help when he was very effectively using that brush at the same
time. “If you want to communicate in actions this afternoon that’s no problem
love, I can do it too.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Believe me, I’ve got the message!” Dale
yelped at a particularly firm one in a sensitive place. Paul paused, resting
the hand with the brush against his butt. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Ok, then let’s recap a bit here. We’re
out of the country and away from the others, at Christmas which is messing with
our usual plans, and you just had one hell of a rough morning. Is there
anything you’d like to talk about?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">No.
No thank you, all good here. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dale swallowed down the retort before it
slipped out. “I’m… possibly a bit….” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You think?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It was so completely inappropriate to
laugh in this position but it escaped before Dale could stop it. In reply he
felt Paul’s hand rub over his shoulders. Not that Paul was letting him up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I didn’t realise I was doing it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Well you’ve got a lot on your mind.”
Paul said with understanding. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Yes.
Right now, mostly brushes. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dale took a deep breath, shifting
slightly on the bed on his elbows. “There isn’t anything specific to talk
about. Nothing happened, there was no information I didn’t already have,
they’re nice people. It’s just…..”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“A whole lot of free floating yuck.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I want a specified definition of
‘yuck’.” Dale said acidly. It earned him a very mild spank with the brush. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You could try the American consulate? In
the meantime if you’re planning to lay there and be smart mister, I’ll just
carry on back here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Look, will you please stop making me
laugh?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Why? I think I’m done with you taking
things seriously today.” Paul’s hand ran up his back and tousled his hair, a
deeply loving, comforting touch. “We have James and Niall in the right country.
And properly accommodated. You’ve done your bit with Richard and Annie. You’ve
done your bit with ANZ. You’ve run me around all the proper shelves and
sections you thought I’d like with the Christmas list in mind and don’t think I
didn’t notice you got two thirds of it done and finished.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Nearer four fifths.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You are really asking for it my lad.” Paul
patted the brush somewhere extremely personal. “With all that in mind, you need
to calm down now.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I am trying.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Not in the right way.” Paul laid the
brush down on the bed and his palm rubbed instead where Dale’s butt was
distinctly hot and smarting. “We are here together, in a very beautiful city
full of things both of us would love to do. We’re here with James and Niall and
I happen to know you adore spending time with them. So the hard part is done.
We are putting all this aside and we are going to enjoy ourselves now. Now quote
the responsibilities of level three as written by you, Tom and Riley. What are
they?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“…Responsibly look after my own calm and
wellbeing. Notice when it’s not going well and ask for help as I need it. No
acting in.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Which includes chewing on yourself.
Physically and mentally. Doesn’t it?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“……yes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“And the relevant responsibilities of
level 2?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There were times when a photographic
memory was a serious pain in the behind. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“No forms of self harm or self
medicating. No withholding or disguising being anxious.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“That’s not going well today either. Which
means we’re down to level one for tonight aren’t we?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Yes, unmistakably. Dale took a breath,
about to explain that it wasn’t possible to manage in a hotel in another
country while responsibly providing an escort for – <i>a family brat who will know exactly what’s going on, and a family Top
who’ll back it all the way</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Yes, they could absolutely do grounding
here in the hotel. Jasper had managed perfectly adequately to keep him at a
level two in a hotel even by remote control from another state. Not much got ever
in Jasper, Flynn or Paul’s way when it came to him and Riley. He sighed and
felt the last of the sense of responsibility go too. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes sir.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Paul helped him to his feet. “And that’s
going to help. Get under the shower sweetheart. Clean energy, clean clothes,
like Jas would have you do. I’ll be there in a minute.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dale went to do as he was told,
uncomfortably aware of Paul picking up the telephone and asking reception if
James was in sight downstairs in the lobby as they had been planning to meet.
It was apparent that James came to the telephone a moment later and Paul’s
explanation was cheerful, calm and matter of fact. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Hi James, we’re back. Dale’s grounded
for the rest of today so I wondered if you two would like to meet us up here to
eat instead of the restaurant? I’m sure room service would help us out.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">James and Niall’s suite down the hall had
a sitting room in the window area looking down into the garden, and when Paul
and Dale went down to their room fifteen minutes later, afternoon tea complete
with tea pots and cake stands was spread out on the low coffee table. Niall was
curled up with a book in the corner of the couch and smiled at Dale over the
top of it, apparently completely unshocked and unsurprised that a supposedly
together brat could get himself grounded on their first day in London. James,
sitting upright in the armchair as he usually did, surveyed Dale with a
closeness that was extremely uncomfortable because it saw far, far too much.
Then James took his hand and pulled Dale down into his lap. For a second it was
a shock. It shouldn’t have been, Dale was deeply fond of James and James was a family
Top in Flynn’s mould, who saw a need in any brat in his vicinity and met it.
But to be pulled into the competent and very comforting arms of a large and
very safe man at this moment said very clearly to Dale <i>You’ve had a hell of a day, haven’t you? Come here</i>. James held him
closely, an arm very firmly around his waist while Paul took a seat opposite
with Niall. And in the peace and privacy of the sitting room where no one else
would see, James went on holding Dale in his lap, Niall went on lounging on the
couch and Paul curled up there too, and they ate cucumber sandwiches, scones
and cake while Paul explained about Harrods. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">All in all, it was very much a family
meal. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When the snow was heavy on the group
they got up early, worked hard for several hours to get done what needed doing,
and then were usually home by lunchtime with only the regular expeditions
outside to check water left to do. Which meant when the phone rang, all three
of them were home and at the table, eating lunch. Riley grabbed the phone off
the counter. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Falls Chance? Hey! We’ve been thinking
about you all morning. Did they have horns? Spit fire? Dragon on a leash?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He switched it to speaker phone and
Flynn could hear both the weariness and the amusement in Dale’s voice. “No, my
grandparents were surprisingly normal thank you.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“No skeletons falling out of a closet?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“They don’t have closets, this is
England. They were very well behaved.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Were you?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“…..mostly.” Dale sounded rather dry
about it. “The shopping was a little…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“What happened? You’re not going to tell
me you punched out a perfume spritzer, I won’t believe it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“They don’t have those here, people
don’t randomly drench you with things as you walk past them. I got taken to buy
a bloody hairbrush. On Jermyn street. I haven't yet established how Paul even
knows about Jermyn street.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Why, is it some sort of sex quarter?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“No, it’s the centre of quality gentlemen’s
outfitters. They have whole <i>racks</i> of extremely
traditional wooden hairbrushes. I’m sure they have no idea why that ought to be
against the Geneva convention.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“What the hell did you do?” Riley
demanded. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“He bit his nail until it bled.” Paul
explained. “He was a little upset and communicating it via blood. Which I was
not impressed with.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“But you’re not bringing the brush home,
right? You are returning it tomorrow?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“No, it's perfect for its purpose and we
could do with a new family heirloom. Plus we've already put it to good use.
Sweetheart, behave yourself and you'll never have to worry.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I do, in my opinion. You just happen to have a different one
sometimes. Did you have fun shopping before that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Oh yes. The food hall is something
else. Chocolate, Ri. You've never seen chocolate like it.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Riley laughed. “Jas’s eyes just lit up
like candles.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Jasper reached for the phone, sliding it
over in front of him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“How are you both? Is the jetlag bad?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“No, not really.” Paul said mildly.
“We’re both tired and we’re headed for an early night, Dale could use one. It
was a hard day all around.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Have you had time to shower, Dale?”
Jasper sounded relaxed about it but they knew what he meant. Dale answered. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes. And changed clothes. And the
energy in this room and the hotel feels good. Peaceful.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“We’re right above a very nice garden,
although it’s a bit wet for sitting out in it.” Paul agreed. “We walked past
Buckingham palace last night and again this morning, and we’re on the doorstep
of two parks. One with pelicans in it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They chatted for a few minutes more
before Flynn, aware of how tired Dale was sounding, switched the phone off
speaker and handed it to Jasper. Jasper spoke quietly for a moment to Dale, too
quietly for Flynn to hear much of it, and then handed the phone on to Flynn.
Flynn got up and walked to the kitchen door, looking out at the snow covered
yard. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Hey kid. Keep letting Paul help.
Promise me?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It was not easy to hear him, thousands
of miles away, sounding like this, but he heard Dale’s voice deepen and soften.
“Promise.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You did a good thing today. Now spend the
time with James and Niall and enjoy it. Enjoy yourself with Paul. Have a good
time. You’ve earned it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“That’s exactly what Paul is saying.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“He’s right. I love you. I’m proud of
you. Get some sleep.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Get back in time to wassail or we’ll
have creepy whats looking at us in the yard all Christmas.” </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Riley called from
the table. “And stay away from chainsaws.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">17<sup>th</sup>
December<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Wv8BOYCRqijaVCT2OLMGZH53d0Ij-SPmD2wlKf5yKLlwulgUrUcSg5DLSTa2TsdrLnNiHU825exGvhYno24Yw0IUyQtuqJg351F-33TWEVsefJ23v8Rwwx8fRNE5WBahlx0jU74tmPk/s1600/IMG_5764.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Wv8BOYCRqijaVCT2OLMGZH53d0Ij-SPmD2wlKf5yKLlwulgUrUcSg5DLSTa2TsdrLnNiHU825exGvhYno24Yw0IUyQtuqJg351F-33TWEVsefJ23v8Rwwx8fRNE5WBahlx0jU74tmPk/s320/IMG_5764.JPG" width="320" /></a><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">After
that phone call, Dale spent the evening in a long, hot bath that Paul drew for
him and helped with, and they lay in bed together afterwards with a puzzle book
that Paul pulled out of his suitcase. Crosswords and logic puzzles, the kind of
thing they enjoyed in the evening at home together. When Paul turned the light
out he fell asleep surprisingly easily and didn’t stir again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He was woken by a knock at the door and
turned over to find the curtains drawn back and the room in daylight, which
said it was at least eight thirty am, and Paul was answering the door. He
brought a tray back to the bed and Dale shifted over to make room for it, eyeing
the teapot and the plate of pastries and toast with several small jars of
marmalade and jam. With several newspapers under his arm, Paul climbed under
the covers and poured them both a cup of tea. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dale took the cup and saucer, noticing
the time with some shock. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“It’s past nine! You should have woken
me!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Paul settled back against the pillows
and helped himself to toast. “Why? It’s a very nice morning for a lie in, we
don’t need to be anywhere.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It wasn’t something he’d experienced
before really. On a ranch where work always needed doing, their day started
early and Flynn, Riley and Jasper, like Dale, were morning people who liked to
get up and get cracking. But they ate the pastries and spread the newspapers
out on the bed to read, and for over an hour they lazed in bed in the morning
sunshine. And a mild wrestling match that ensued over Paul extracting the
financial section and throwing it out of reach ended with Dale putting the tray
out of the way to wrestle better and the two of them making love over the still
scattered newspapers. The way Paul liked it, which tended to be long and slow
and extremely comfortable. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">That seemed to convince Paul that they
could try a day at level two, which did include being able to go out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They met James and Niall downstairs just
before eleven and out of consideration for saving them as much walking as
possible, took a taxi across to Westminster Abbey. It was at Dale’s suggestion;
it was a place he’d seen once or twice as a child, and it was somewhere he knew
Paul would love to see. He was right. He saw Paul’s face light up as they drew
up outside the massive and distinctive exterior and once inside the tall arched
doors he was spellbound. For forty minutes the four of them walked slowly
through its massive walls, reading the plaques and the names on the tomb after
tomb. Kings and Queens of England. Dickens. Shakespeare. Austen. Kipling. Dale
stood for a moment by him, one of Tom’s dearest heroes. The peace and the
majesty of the place was tangible even with the crowds moving around them. A
large nativity crib was set up in one of the aisles with half scaled life size
figures of men and animals stooped over the woman and her baby and the organ
was playing Christmas carols quietly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS1gnGMbvWB2UhDJzTmIhllIqcttrag9GKO3EFS7XbqSnhvQQZ0KSFvY2aVZgwQzAYYMCuftY9IjCovc-3gTHgcT8RLi7ukG4hE-u38nlm-FyaD4nVs8SknlFEmjbi10xVi63-9C4KJ14/s1600/IMG_7419-3-hero.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="128" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS1gnGMbvWB2UhDJzTmIhllIqcttrag9GKO3EFS7XbqSnhvQQZ0KSFvY2aVZgwQzAYYMCuftY9IjCovc-3gTHgcT8RLi7ukG4hE-u38nlm-FyaD4nVs8SknlFEmjbi10xVi63-9C4KJ14/s320/IMG_7419-3-hero.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">From the pier by Westminster palace they
caught a river taxi and Niall and Paul sat sheltered from the wind, spotting the
landmarks on the river. James stood at the rail with Dale. It was chilly this
morning, and damp on the river, but a calm, still morning. James glanced across
at him and his American accent, while fainter than Paul’s and Niall’s, caught
Dale’s ear as standing out from the chatter of British passengers around them. Without
him realising when, it had become the language of home. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“What it is like for you to be here? You
were out of England so long.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“It’s like being a tourist.” Dale leaned
on the rail watching the Thames slip by. “It’s nice to see. Have you spent much
time in the UK sir?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes, twice for vacations. London and
Scotland, we enjoyed them both. I was here for a couple of days at a transition
camp on my way out to France on the transports, but it wasn’t exactly scenic.
Not like Niall who was stationed in a camp here for the best part of six weeks
training and assembling – and Wade was here for two years. Although I don’t
think he saw much below the local villages and the airfield.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">James’ face shuttered for a second or
two and Dale felt the line of his thoughts stretching out to a man in Texas. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4GauEwFLZETfz8BuUVt9PYhBDNG-IAz7BMMi0o0z89wQ2Wxa_xdU6gq9V6F8czkXQmoO-n8PIeFjqpn48-WqpDkmP5Lkl1KDw245OCoS7qtqtXAoJCXxXTs418ni5-zGVEzM4__M9d4w/s1600/areas-covent-garden-hero.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="120" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4GauEwFLZETfz8BuUVt9PYhBDNG-IAz7BMMi0o0z89wQ2Wxa_xdU6gq9V6F8czkXQmoO-n8PIeFjqpn48-WqpDkmP5Lkl1KDw245OCoS7qtqtXAoJCXxXTs418ni5-zGVEzM4__M9d4w/s400/areas-covent-garden-hero.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They walked around the palace of Hampton
Court that afternoon, from the gardens to the state rooms and the kitchens, and
they took the boat back up the river in the slow growing dusk watching the
boats with their Christmas lights on the water. The following day was spent at
Covent Garden, shopping in the small boutiques and artisan shops and watching
the entertainers performing among the stone columns. Niall loved that. While
Paul and James drank coffee at one of the numerous cafes, Dale walked around
the periphery for some time with him, watching jugglers and magic tricks,
dancers, acrobats, and musicians who filled the air with Christmas songs. That
evening they put to use the tickets that Caroline had suggested and watched the
Nutcracker danced at the Royal Opera House, where the golden ornate tiers of
the theatre rose under the magnificent ceiling. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">At some point during the night Dale
became aware that he was somewhere near a gate, where a huge crowd of filthy,
struggling bodies were fighting to reach it against shouts from American voices
and a babel of different languages, barbed wire and fencing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Just explain!” an American voice was
ordering. “For God’s sake explain to them – how many fucking languages do they
speak in this place, find me someone who speaks Yiddish-”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Please,” a man was sobbing in German.
The tears were streaming down his face, down the terrible shadows and angles of
it as he was skeletal like the others, “Please, we are free, open the gates
now.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“We can’t.” Dale said in German to him,
as soothingly as he could although he had to shout it over the mayhem of the
crowd. Like the others here who spoke German or French or Russian or Polish
they were trying desperately to help them understand. “Not yet, there’s typhus
in the camp. No one can leave until it’s under control or we’ll infect the
whole area-”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“But we are free now, please, we are
free, let us go,” the man clutched at him, trying to make him understand. In
the distance someone had resorted to firing a revolver in the air, trying to
quieten the crowd enough to hear, and hands were pulling at him, he was being
dragged into the crowd.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I’m sorry,” he said again and again, in
French, in German, “I’m so sorry.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Niall.” James’ voice was very near and
quiet in contrast to the shouts. A lamp switched on and Dale blinked, ripped
abruptly from the terrible crowd to a quiet, comfortable but unfamiliar room
and James’s hand on his face, gently wiping the wetness away. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">19<sup>th</sup>
December <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">On the morning of the fourth day Dale
checked them out of the London hotel and the car and driver waiting at the
front door drove them south, to the coast and the small town of Rye. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It was less than eighty miles but
progress out of London was a gradual thing through busy roads, and it took two
hours before the car came into sight of a harbour at the foot of a steep hill,
and Niall said quietly but with passion, </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Oh God, this is it. James, this is
David’s town.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They were silent, watching the people
walking along the narrow pavements and between the busy little shops on the
crooked streets as the car wound it way up the hill. At the top, it pulled
through the narrow stone gateway in the wall of the citadel and drove along the
even more narrow cobbled streets inside the walls, between the brightly painted
houses with their window boxes and hanging baskets with holly and Christmas
decorations and lights, until it reached the wattle and daub front of the Inn.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They got out in the car park that had
once been a coaching yard, and Niall stretched with care, looking at the large white
building with the black beams. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“This is ancient – how old is it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“This one was rebuilt in 1420, but the
cellars and foundations are older.” Dale came to help James with the car door
on the other side. “It’s the Mermaid Inn. Famous as being a smugglers’ post for
centuries on this coastline, there are secret passage ways, the whole works.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVGNBfFRuJTWPprdOyVd8MKVO07-ZkHtqVmI4k_Ckpdz7V2YeY2vBQNF1uoyttq0nEiyruSJ3WOMMlZ3cXW9J8mVV3qkZ3tqy8gxFcAd8afuTQuuQ0I6bCG1gH05G7jAMStBP520_TaIY/s1600/f75e8784cfaadb4f110d65378f3a03c0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVGNBfFRuJTWPprdOyVd8MKVO07-ZkHtqVmI4k_Ckpdz7V2YeY2vBQNF1uoyttq0nEiyruSJ3WOMMlZ3cXW9J8mVV3qkZ3tqy8gxFcAd8afuTQuuQ0I6bCG1gH05G7jAMStBP520_TaIY/s320/f75e8784cfaadb4f110d65378f3a03c0.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Niall caught James’ eye over the car
roof with delight. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Now David would <i>love</i> that.” James said wryly. “The four of us in a smugglers’ den
because of him.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Was that what made you choose this
one?” Niall asked Dale. Dale nodded. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I’m certain David would have known it.
It’s one of the oldest and most well-known buildings in the town.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The two rooms they were shown to were
large and comfortable, and very, very old. From the open fireplaces and wood
panelled walls to the uneven floors and creaking, narrow hallways with heavy
wooden doors, this place had age written into every inch of it. Paul looked
with fascination at the four poster bed as they unpacked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I’ve only ever read about these. Dale,
this place is going to be haunted to the nth degree – are you going to be able
to sleep if it’s full of whats?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I have no doubt David will want to keep
me busy.” Dale put the last case in the wardrobe and paused to look through the
latticed window down into the street. “Do you know where in the town he lived?”
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“No.” Paul came to look with him. “He
told me a lot about the harbour and the boats and some of the land marks, but
almost nothing about where he stayed, or about his family. I don’t think that
part of it held much interest for him.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Did you notice the shape of the quay?
Down by the old fishing sheds that was the antique market as we drove up?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“No?” Paul said curiously. “What about
it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dale didn’t answer, but as the four of
them strolled down the steep streets of the small town that afternoon, looking
through the windows of the tiny shops and breathing the sea air, the quay came
into view at the bottom, laid out in plain sight. Niall saw it first and
stopped, reaching for James’ arm. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Look. Look at it.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“It’s the quay from David’s map at the
ranch.” James shaded his eyes against the afternoon sun, looking with
bemusement at the few small fishing boats bobbing on the water. “Even the
fishing sheds. It’s as if we’re standing inside his map.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi11hqLyIH0Eu-Y0rMiSzQb4JYUaPQ6FYmY8MwaV2HgnF3NbQS-PDyFKnjGtCnwN40BbyikoV_XqMGwa8z1GRm19SyfqREv4Ka45N2Lq9cx0a4FQt7MhiNZdqRJOFFuO7d1t8Qd_okr1Jo/s1600/st-marys-in-snow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi11hqLyIH0Eu-Y0rMiSzQb4JYUaPQ6FYmY8MwaV2HgnF3NbQS-PDyFKnjGtCnwN40BbyikoV_XqMGwa8z1GRm19SyfqREv4Ka45N2Lq9cx0a4FQt7MhiNZdqRJOFFuO7d1t8Qd_okr1Jo/s320/st-marys-in-snow.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They attended a Christingle service that
evening in St Mary’s church in the centre of the citadel; the church whose
bells David must have heard every day of his childhood. In the candle lit
interior full of men, women and children muffled in coats and scarves against
the chill of the evening, Dale listened to James’ baritone and Niall’s lighter
voice singing the ornate words of the traditional carols he’d known all his
life, and watched Paul lean forward in the pew to smile at the noisy procession
of children who walked to the front rail to collect and light their Christingle
candles. It was so very unlike any British Christmas he had ever known in his
time in England, not least because here he sat with three men he loved and who
in the briefest of glances or shared expressions communicated between them what
they enjoyed, what was funny, what caught their attention. And it was there in
the candle light he saw the colour in Niall’s face, the energy that hadn’t been
there a couple of days ago. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A
complete break from home. James has been able to make him rest. We’ve walked
places he was interested in and he’s been eating well wherever we’ve gone…. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He was looking distinctly better.
Despite what he had to face in the cathedral tomorrow, and Dale knew the image
of those bodies struggling by the gates would haunt him forever, experienced
just third hand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We’re
all here to lay down restless ghosts this Christmas. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">James slipped his arm through Dale’s as
they left the church, pausing in the dark church yard among the gravestones to
admire the Christmas tree lit up by the entrance. The wind was blowing crisply
from the estuary, the smell of minerals and salt was in the air. They walked slowly
down the hill past the lights from the pubs and restaurants among the cottages,
and in the warmth of the Mermaid Inn’s dining room from the logs blazing in the
giant hearth ate scallops and locally caught sea bass. They sat talking for a
while at the table after the dishes had been cleared, sipping the brandies
James ordered, until James glanced at his watch and drained the last dregs of
his glass.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Niall, we’re headed to bed. It’s going
to be a full day tomorrow. Dale, what time do you want us ready to leave?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“The car will meet us here at nine,
sir.” Dale rose respectfully as James and Niall got up. “It’s about a fifteen
minute drive to the cathedral, the service starts at ten am.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“So we’ll meet you for breakfast down
here at eight?” Niall put a hand on Dale’s arm to kiss his cheek and leaned
over to kiss Paul. “Goodnight. Sleep well.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Left alone together in the firelight,
Dale finished his drink slowly, the burning flavour warming from tongue to
stomach. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Tired?” Paul asked him. Dale shook his
head. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“No, not really. If you don’t mind the
dark and the breeze, I don’t suppose you’d like to take a look around and see
if we can figure out David’s house?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Paul smiled, draining his glass to get
up. “That’s my kind of night owling. Much more fun than stalking elk or
randomly sitting in the rain in the freezing cold by a river.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“There’s a lot to be said for that too.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You three are welcome to it. Riley and
I will keep the kettle warm for you.” Paul took his coat from the back of the
chair, pulling it on. “Do you know where to start?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“There’s enough logic that we could
probably figure it out, but I was hoping if it’s getting quiet outside there I
might be able to find it more directly.” Dale said delicately. “<i>If</i> I may, and you feel I’m around a
level three.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">That was an additional rule of Jasper’s.
At levels 1 and 2, when things were rough, no whatting, and that was right. He
had no business taking on board other people’s energies or trying to use his
own for working unless it was strong and clear. Paul gave him a steady look for
a moment, giving it honest consideration. Then nodded. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You’ve been fine with us the last
couple of days so yes, I think so.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Outside in the street Dale moved a few
yards away from the spill of warm light onto the cobbles from the inn windows
and the sounds of voices faded behind them as Paul closed the door. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Where would you start from logic?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“We know it wouldn’t have been any of
the wealthier houses or streets. The fishing houses and the poorer
accommodations are peripheral, around the walls. If this is like other fishing
towns like Whitby or Grimsby then many of the fishing fleet and working women
with children lived in yards- cottages around a working yard broken up into
single rented rooms. Not much has changed in the town’s internal layout in
about two hundred years so it wouldn’t be difficult to find them.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What
energy are you putting towards it?</span></i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> That’s what
Jasper would ask him. The things you went towards with good energy, strong
energy, able to be positive or clear headed, or whatever you needed were likely
to work better and more easily than things you went towards in fear or doubt,
resentment or reluctance. He’d been reminding himself of that all week. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dale stood still, connecting himself to
the ground, reinforcing his shields as he gathered himself and his thoughts. The
smell of woodsmoke was strong in the air, smoke was rising from many of the
chimneys in the town. The rose quartz stone in his coat pocket was rough
against his palm. Wherever he went he took that with him, transferring it from
pocket to pocket. Then he let his mind open and relax. Not searching, not
trying to do anything, just being available to float on the tide. In the now. With
a relaxed and comfortable heart. At home that worked, where he was on his own
land, where that state was so easy to find and the work he wanted to do was for
the benefit of other people. The rules were delicate and powerful. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Not
for yourself. Never for idle curiosity or without it being unselfish, for someone’s
good. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So
who benefits from this? Why do I want to know this? For Paul, who loved David
and that connection with him here would mean a great deal. And for me, because
we’re here thinking of him, the four of us, who owe him so much, and we stand
for all of the men from his home. Because our roots are stronger and deeper in
him and each other than they are in anywhere else we’ve come from. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As he thought it he caught a flash from
the side of his eye. Barely seen, but a child. A boy. Scruffy in a man’s old
sweater far too big for him, and cut off trousers, heading purposefully up the
street. They walked after him, past the closed butchers and bakers shops in the
main street and around the corner, through the open gateway in the citadel
walls. A cottage tucked against the outer wall to the left, just against the
gate, had several steps and a rail. Dale paused, examining what was now a
private cottage for the signs he recognised. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“That was a police station once. The
lamp is still there.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“He was fond of one of the constables at
the station, I think the man was kind to him.” Paul looked too at the elderly
narrow house. “Where now?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The child was crossing the road briskly
ahead of them and following the curve of the road around to the right. As they
rounded the bend Dale saw the narrow alleyway a second before the child
disappeared down it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They walked through the narrow space
between the cottage walls. You might have got a small barrow or a horse through
it, but no car would pass this space. It led into an open and neatly bricked
yard where tubs of pansies were struggling against the December rain. Five
small cottages terraced three sides of the yard, with crooked rooves and narrow
brick that put them at early nineteenth century and probably were rebuilt over
wooden shacks that had stood here for centuries before that. Perhaps four rooms
in each small cottage: a front room, back room, bathroom and bedroom. The
curtains were drawn and light shone through some of them as their occupants
made ready for bed. Christmas wreaths decorated some of the painted wooden
front doors. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">If he let it, other images were slightly
overlaid with the clean and well-kept yard. It still remembered a time when it
was mud and earth, when droppings from the horse that overnighted in the
makeshift shelter in the corner were common, and washing lines were strung
between the cottages. When the yard was often thick day and night with the fog
that was mist off the harbour mixed with smoke from every chimney, when the windows
were grimy and some were stuffed with newspaper to keep the wind out, when
every room in each cottage was a home for one family, with twenty families of
three generations crowded together into this yard. Where the one bathroom
provision for those families was the single shed in the corner by the alley.
The weathering on the wall still faintly showed where it had been. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“That one.” Dale said very quietly to
Paul, indicating the one on the far right. “The front room of that one.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He was aware Paul took some photographs,
but it was difficult not to go on looking. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">20<sup>th</sup>
December <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They met for breakfast at eight am in
the dining room, all four of them in dark, plain suits. It was cold but sunny
outside when they met the car waiting for them outside and drove the coastal
road along to Sturchester. It was a largely regency town with a pretty high
street and a large harbour on the sea front filled with private boats and
yachts. The cathedral was in the heart of the town, and the car left them at
the gates of a thick medieval wall where a uniformed guard stood on duty.
Inside the gates was a wide, lawned enclosure with trees and paths in several
directions, and in the centre stood the cathedral. Huge and majestic with
carved figures at the doorways, looking down. Around the perimeter were old and
beautiful houses, mixed in period from Tudor to Regency, with neat and small
front gardens and immaculate frontages. At the very far side of the close was a
stone gatehouse with the gates open showing a large Elizabethan manor house
beyond, with extensive gardens around it. It wasn’t difficult to imagine a
small Tom running around somewhere like this. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-vzJ11H-MrcMQnux9tPReqYEK4qwWZkxzAW1HqVcn_GbF_DluWshULPxjLgbk31GNFOn2R_qypzZ3WnhebPvNDAWKR-i19HxVZwcSG7fuwLsz-78kZAj-U1KDHJQBL5EgjHFr2z3eMxQ/s1600/Salisbury+Cathedral.jpg.gallery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="650" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-vzJ11H-MrcMQnux9tPReqYEK4qwWZkxzAW1HqVcn_GbF_DluWshULPxjLgbk31GNFOn2R_qypzZ3WnhebPvNDAWKR-i19HxVZwcSG7fuwLsz-78kZAj-U1KDHJQBL5EgjHFr2z3eMxQ/s320/Salisbury+Cathedral.jpg.gallery.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">They waited for a while in the garden. Several
police were walking the area with sniffer dogs and the drain covers were marked
where they had been checked, and cathedral staff were marking out an entrance
closed to tourists for the duration of the service. Dale went down to the
cathedral café and brought back coffee which they drank together, watching cars
arrive and discharge first a few smartly dressed officers in uniform from the
local barracks, and then a group of twenty smartly dressed cadets marched down
the avenue and took up position by the cathedral door in ranks. Locals began to
arrive, from elderly couples to several women with toddlers in pushchairs. And
then gradually cars began to discharge more and more elderly men. They arrived
in twos and threes, many with family, and as the crowd grew, James and Niall
went to greet faces they recognised. In the end perhaps thirty men, mostly
Americans, were gathered in a group on the lawn, with their family members at a
discreet distance. Local dignitaries in suits arrived; Dale suspected local
politicians and councillors, several representatives from other town churches
and faiths, and on the far side of the lawn a dark blue jaguar arrived and a
smartly uniformed elderly man got out, escorted by an army officer in dress
uniform, and another man in a suit that to the initiated stated protection
officer.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Who’s that?” Paul murmured to Dale.
“More army presence?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes in a way. That’s a member of the
royal family who also saw active service during the war.” Dale watched the
dignitaries go to greet him, and a small girl of perhaps three being led
forward by one of the cathedral staff who managed a little curtsey and held out
the flowers she carried. The elderly man in uniform stooped to take them and
talk to her, and then quietly moved to the group of American men of his
generation and spoke to several of them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They were guided into the cathedral and
led to ranks of seats in the west transept where a large curtain with a golden
cord covered the memorial to be dedicated. There were going to be approximately
a hundred people here for this service, it had meant a great deal to many
others besides themselves. Dale cast a quick look around as he and Paul took
their seats beside Niall and James on the end of one of the middle rows.
Niall’s face was beginning to look a little tight and although he and James sat
politely not touching, they sat in exact parallel side by side. The seats were
filling up fast. The mighty organ behind the quire was playing softly, several
robed clergymen were gathering at the front where a lectern had been placed on
a small platform and a microphone. A couple of men edged down the row behind
them to empty seats and one of them leaned over to put a hand on Niall’s
shoulder as he sat down. Dale looked up with Niall and felt his breath catch at
the sight of the familiar face. Miguel, with Tazio beside him, both of them in
overcoats. Niall gripped Miguel’s hand with his eyes coming alight, and James
turned in his seat to shake hands. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“With you this near to us do you think
we’d stay away?” Miguel demanded under his breath, grinning at Paul and Dale as
he sat down. With a flick of his eyes he cued them in. Peter and Lewis in
overcoats were a few seats down. Darcy sat beside them and smiled at Dale. His
eyes softened painfully as Niall turned in his seat to see him and reached over
to shake hands. Not what either of them wanted to do in the moment, but touch
all the same. And then Dale saw two tall men walking slowly with an elderly third
man between them down the aisle towards them and his heart leapt so hard it
hurt. One of the escorting men was an extremely good looking, middle aged black
guy. The other was a dark blond man with wide, strong shoulders and very dark
green eyes that flashed across to Dale’s like magnets. Flynn. It was Flynn, and
Luath, and between them was Wade. Dale rose immediately, vacating his seat for
Wade to take beside James. Wade looked grimly and satisfiedly pleased with
himself. Niall looked up at him in shock and his eyes filled. Wade took his
hand and sat down in the empty chair between James and Paul, leaning for a
moment against James’ solid shoulder. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVtMzqvKr-_cBKR4MX0vnCh600IerUGCnx0DsTcIM48S6wESGkuJJL8gJltCW_s9ZUPH1tZr5NoOY0KbUY6gWDYUdMuQkLl1ySxJXOk_znb5AcOKtOKNX3EoBm_FM6-fCZZAmAMhmZhXs/s1600/IMG_5772.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVtMzqvKr-_cBKR4MX0vnCh600IerUGCnx0DsTcIM48S6wESGkuJJL8gJltCW_s9ZUPH1tZr5NoOY0KbUY6gWDYUdMuQkLl1ySxJXOk_znb5AcOKtOKNX3EoBm_FM6-fCZZAmAMhmZhXs/s320/IMG_5772.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dale made his way around the periphery
of the crowd since it was now standing room only, and Flynn’s eyes said a
blazing hello as he reached the space beside a pillar where Luath and Flynn had
taken up position. Unable not to, in the press of the crowd where no one could
see, Dale found his hand and held it hard. Luath smiled at him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Good morning.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Good morning. I had no idea of this
plot.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“It wasn’t anything so organised as a
plot, it was last minute brat-led chaos.” Luath glanced across to Flynn with
amusement. “Miguel wanted to come – they’re only a few hours by train really,
and he wanted to be here for James and Niall – but couldn’t be sure he could
get the time off until yesterday morning. Peter and Lewis have an even shorter
journey from Cannes, and that would have been it, except Wade got more and more
restive and finally admitted he wanted to be here. So I wangled tickets, Darcy rang
the ranch for another pair of hands to come with us and we hit Heathrow about
4am this morning. We have flights back from Heathrow at 11pm tonight.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I can make arrangements for Wade to
come back with us.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I don’t think you’ll persuade him, he’s
planning on travelling in the middle of a family mob, drinking too much and
James not being anywhere in sight to cramp his style.” Luath said dryly. “You
can take Flynn though, and then he can be with you instead of thinking about
you the entire way.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">David was standing on the far side of
the aisle. A long way from the crowd, but watching with his hands dug in the
pockets of his long coat, and he caught Dale’s eye with his blazing smile. And
as the service started, there they were. Thirteen of them who belonged to the
ranch, representing four generations together, supporting their own in this
place that meant a great deal to three of their own. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dale, holding onto Flynn’s hand as the
music paused and the lead clergyman mounted the platform to speak, gripped him
tighter. Across the crowd David’s eyes were alight with amusement. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Tall, gangly, faintly untidy despite the
robes, with the same narrow bones - there were things about the man that were
very familiar. And they were in a cathedral. On the south coast of England.
Leaning over to look at the programme Luath was holding, Dale saw the name on
the paper and swallowed down a very, very inappropriate smile considering the
solemnity of the occasion. The service was being led by his reverence the Lord Bishop
Forster-Jones. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">At
the end of the ceremony, after the elderly man in uniform had drawn back the
velvet curtains to display a marble carved plaque to the serviceman who boarded
the boats on the harbour in the town, the crowd dispersed slowly out into the
sunshine on the lawn, and Dale, standing with his shoulder close against
Flynn’s, watched Niall and James talking with their friends among the other
veterans. Paul was arm in arm with Wade and discreetly supporting him as he
walked, stretching out the kinks of a night on a plane. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">An elderly couple were walking arm in
arm out of the cathedral, formally dressed. Dale blinked as he recognised them
and stepped forward with shock as the man smiled at him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Good morning. We apologise for gate
crashing. When we thought about it, it was a service that we really wanted to
support for your friends.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And
you.</span></i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">By travelling two hours from London at
their age, the gesture they were making was not a small one. Very touched, Dale
shook hands with Richard and stooped to Antigone’s light embrace. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Thank you. Thank you, that’s very kind
of you. Flynn, this is Richard and Antigone, my grandparents.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Annie.” Annie took Flynn’s offered
hand. “You’re Flynn from the ranch, aren’t you? Dale talks about you often in
his letters.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">You’ve
been to veterans memorials for my father’s brigade. Remembrance Sunday at the
cenotaph. These events have been part of your life for almost all of my life,
they matter to you. And we come to meet because of one.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“We won’t hang around, you’re with friends,”
Richard said gently, “I wonder if you’d just walk us to our car. There’s
something we brought with us.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Annie slipped quietly through the crowd
to where Paul and Wade were walking and Dale saw her touch Paul’s arm to stop
him, taking a moment to greet and talk with him. She only talked for a moment
but when they parted Dale saw Paul take her hand and kiss her cheek. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Their car was parked on a quiet
residential street behind the cathedral. Dale and Flynn walked with them and
Richard clicked the boot open, taking something long and well wrapped in cloth
from inside. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“We felt this belonged to you. We have
so much of Miles and you’ve had so little. We know Miles would have wanted you
to have it.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It was the Lifeguards’ antique sword. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><b><i>Happy Christmas</i></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><b><i>Copyright Rolf and Ranger 2017</i></b></span></div>
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tarabeth1210http://www.blogger.com/profile/14902928357845152351noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3812077977994131831.post-70803677707520037782017-12-23T19:59:00.004-08:002017-12-23T19:59:48.991-08:002017 Cryptogram #13 Solution<span style="background-color: white; color: #5d5d5d;"><span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The answer to Cryptogram #13 is:</span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #5d5d5d;"><span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“He’s buried David under the veg patch.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 107%;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">~Wade, Mary Ellen Carter</span></span><span style="background-color: #ebf2e1; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 17.12px;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #5d5d5d;"><i><span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Highlight the area above to display the cryptogram answer. Thank you to @Kate M from the Falls Chance Forum for our Cryptograms.</span></span></i></span>tarabeth1210http://www.blogger.com/profile/14902928357845152351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3812077977994131831.post-82126473439802531082017-12-23T19:56:00.004-08:002017-12-23T19:57:04.358-08:002017 Cryptogram #13<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><complete id="goog_870183192">@</complete>Kate M. from the Fall Chance Forum has scrambled up some of our favorite Rolf and Ranger's Story Quotes for you to untangle. The quote could come from any of this year's Rolf and Ranger Stories (i.e. <i>Cobble Hill</i>, <i>The Pumpkin Patch, Watching the Waters, Madison Hall, </i>or new<i> The Mary Ellen Carter chapters</i>)</span></h3>
<div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-2642550364850115850" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 706px;">
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<span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip15fCFNXoBwJnzijiPUEpTSzTpmtjG42unhdWLYZnyv7vi6nT91PBcnSv7TG9SLMqGe3a3CoDKOi4yvRRKW4PJEmSrMhqnyJThoXU3LqWgd-w2o4mBUo2MCCySDcNlCejFG3_gBhLrpE/s1600/pctree4.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip15fCFNXoBwJnzijiPUEpTSzTpmtjG42unhdWLYZnyv7vi6nT91PBcnSv7TG9SLMqGe3a3CoDKOi4yvRRKW4PJEmSrMhqnyJThoXU3LqWgd-w2o4mBUo2MCCySDcNlCejFG3_gBhLrpE/s200/pctree4.gif" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border-radius: 5px; border: 1px solid rgb(209, 209, 209); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 0px 20px; padding: 8px; position: relative;" width="200" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Now, because Dale won't be playing (and we don't think any one else can do these in their heads, but let us know if you can) and a pencil and paper is still far too much like hard work--but go for it if that is how you want to spend Christmas vacation -- there is a handy tool <a href="http://rumkin.com/tools/cipher/cryptogram-solver.php" style="text-decoration-line: none;">HERE</a>!!</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">~*~ ~*~ ~*~</span></div>
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<span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A link to the solution will be posted in tomorrow's Advent Calendar posting.<br /><br /><b>Here is your Cryptogram:</b></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 107%; text-transform: uppercase;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“DN’C YEBGNR RWPGR ELRNB
HDN PNS MWHUD.”</span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="background: rgb(235 , 242 , 225); color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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tarabeth1210http://www.blogger.com/profile/14902928357845152351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3812077977994131831.post-66366300738755988352017-12-23T19:53:00.002-08:002017-12-23T19:53:18.712-08:002017 FCR Trivia #5<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">21. In Shenanigans Overlook, Jasper looks extremely good in what?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> A. Wranglers</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> B. Chinos </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> C. Darcy’s cast offs</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> D. Anything, anything at all</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">22. Who brought the Lexan to the Ranch? </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">23. The One True Soap is:</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> A. Lily of the Valley</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> B. Irish Spring </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> C. Gucci Pour Homme</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> D. Whatever the hotel provides</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">24. Who originally owned the cherished glass Christmas ornaments that are hung each year? </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">25. Christmas is properly described as:</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> A. A vacation</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> B. A holiday</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />tarabeth1210http://www.blogger.com/profile/14902928357845152351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3812077977994131831.post-49063379164682047762017-12-22T22:33:00.005-08:002017-12-23T19:58:24.742-08:002017 Cryptogram #12 Solution<span style="background-color: white; color: #5d5d5d;"><span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The answer to Cryptogram #12 is:</span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #5d5d5d;"><span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Wade snorted and stuck out his hand. “Hand over
your Top card Jimbo.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: white;">~Wade to James,<i> Mary Ellen Carter</i></span></span><span style="background-color: #ebf2e1;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 107%;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #5d5d5d;"><i><span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Highlight the area above to display the cryptogram answer. Thank you to @Kate M from the Falls Chance Forum for our Cryptograms.</span></span></i></span>tarabeth1210http://www.blogger.com/profile/14902928357845152351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3812077977994131831.post-29078844253156355712017-12-21T23:53:00.003-08:002017-12-21T23:53:51.497-08:002017 Cryptogram #12<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><complete id="goog_870183192">@</complete>Kate M. from the Fall Chance Forum has scrambled up some of our favorite Rolf and Ranger's Story Quotes for you to untangle. The quote could come from any of this year's Rolf and Ranger Stories (i.e. <i>Cobble Hill</i>, <i>The Pumpkin Patch, Watching the Waters, Madison Hall, </i>or new<i> The Mary Ellen Carter chapters</i>)</span></h3>
<div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-2642550364850115850" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 706px;">
<div>
<span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip15fCFNXoBwJnzijiPUEpTSzTpmtjG42unhdWLYZnyv7vi6nT91PBcnSv7TG9SLMqGe3a3CoDKOi4yvRRKW4PJEmSrMhqnyJThoXU3LqWgd-w2o4mBUo2MCCySDcNlCejFG3_gBhLrpE/s1600/pctree4.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip15fCFNXoBwJnzijiPUEpTSzTpmtjG42unhdWLYZnyv7vi6nT91PBcnSv7TG9SLMqGe3a3CoDKOi4yvRRKW4PJEmSrMhqnyJThoXU3LqWgd-w2o4mBUo2MCCySDcNlCejFG3_gBhLrpE/s200/pctree4.gif" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border-radius: 5px; border: 1px solid rgb(209, 209, 209); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 0px 20px; padding: 8px; position: relative;" width="200" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now, because Dale won't be playing (and we don't think any one else can do these in their heads, but let us know if you can) and a pencil and paper is still far too much like hard work--but go for it if that is how you want to spend Christmas vacation -- there is a handy tool <a href="http://rumkin.com/tools/cipher/cryptogram-solver.php" style="text-decoration-line: none;">HERE</a>!!</span><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">~*~ ~*~ ~*~</span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A link to the solution will be posted in tomorrow's Advent Calendar posting.<br /><br /><b>Here is your first Cryptogram:</b></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 107%; text-transform: uppercase;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">IJLO NUWZKOL JUL NKXYT WXK MAN MJUL. “MJUL WROZ FWXZ KWE YJZL BAHCW.”</span></span></div>
</div>
tarabeth1210http://www.blogger.com/profile/14902928357845152351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3812077977994131831.post-75154640945609990672017-12-21T23:47:00.002-08:002017-12-21T23:47:15.352-08:002017 Cryptogram #11 Solution<span style="background-color: white; color: #5d5d5d;"><span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The answer to Cryptogram #11 is:</span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #5d5d5d;"><span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="background: white; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>“So I guess next year we skip the candles and
just burn down a shed, do we? That cheered you right up. I didn’t know you had
arsonist tendencies.”</i> </span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">~Riley to Dale, <i><b>Madison’s Hall</b></i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background: white; color: #5d5d5d; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #5d5d5d;"><i><span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Highlight the area above to display the cryptogram answer. Thank you to @Kate M from the Falls Chance Forum for our Cryptograms.</span></span></i></span>tarabeth1210http://www.blogger.com/profile/14902928357845152351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3812077977994131831.post-55268148772683897412017-12-20T23:17:00.003-08:002017-12-20T23:17:58.815-08:002017 Cryptogram #11<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><complete id="goog_870183192">@</complete>Kate M. from the Fall Chance Forum has scrambled up some of our favorite Rolf and Ranger's Story Quotes for you to untangle. The quote could come from any of this year's Rolf and Ranger Stories (i.e. <i>Cobble Hill</i>, <i>The Pumpkin Patch, Watching the Waters, Madison Hall, </i>or new<i> The Mary Ellen Carter chapters</i>)</span></h3>
<div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-2642550364850115850" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 706px;">
<div>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip15fCFNXoBwJnzijiPUEpTSzTpmtjG42unhdWLYZnyv7vi6nT91PBcnSv7TG9SLMqGe3a3CoDKOi4yvRRKW4PJEmSrMhqnyJThoXU3LqWgd-w2o4mBUo2MCCySDcNlCejFG3_gBhLrpE/s1600/pctree4.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip15fCFNXoBwJnzijiPUEpTSzTpmtjG42unhdWLYZnyv7vi6nT91PBcnSv7TG9SLMqGe3a3CoDKOi4yvRRKW4PJEmSrMhqnyJThoXU3LqWgd-w2o4mBUo2MCCySDcNlCejFG3_gBhLrpE/s200/pctree4.gif" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border-radius: 5px; border: 1px solid rgb(209, 209, 209); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 0px 20px; padding: 8px; position: relative;" width="200" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now, because Dale won't be playing (and we don't think any one else can do these in their heads, but let us know if you can) and a pencil and paper is still far too much like hard work--but go for it if that is how you want to spend Christmas vacation -- there is a handy tool <a href="http://rumkin.com/tools/cipher/cryptogram-solver.php" style="text-decoration-line: none;">HERE</a>!!</span><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">~*~ ~*~ ~*~</span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A link to the solution will be posted in tomorrow's Advent Calendar posting.<br /><br /><b>Here is your first Cryptogram:</b></span></div>
<div>
<b><span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 107%; text-transform: uppercase;"><span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“VT J ECRVV BRPG LRQX HR
VWJY GUR AQBFDRV QBF ICVG OCXB FTHB Q VURF, FT HR? GUQG AURRXRF LTC XJEUG CY. J
FJFB’G WBTH LTC UQF QXVTBJVG GRBFRBAJRV.”</span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #5d5d5d; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
</div>
tarabeth1210http://www.blogger.com/profile/14902928357845152351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3812077977994131831.post-11621909102816287062017-12-20T23:13:00.004-08:002017-12-20T23:13:44.478-08:002017 Cryptogram #10 Solution<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #5d5d5d;"><span style="color: #8e7cc3;">The answer to Cryptogram #10 is:</span></span><br style="background-color: white; color: #5d5d5d;" /><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white;"></span></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 107%;">“And you’ve got it straight down. How do you
even dance to math?” ~ </span>Riley to Dale, Madison’s Hall</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #5d5d5d; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 13.91px;"><span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #5d5d5d;"><i><span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Highlight the area above to display the cryptogram answer. Thank you to @Kate M from the Falls Chance Forum for our Cryptograms.</span></span></i></span>tarabeth1210http://www.blogger.com/profile/14902928357845152351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3812077977994131831.post-57929106622842436652017-12-20T00:13:00.001-08:002017-12-20T00:13:16.859-08:002017 Cryptogram #10<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><complete id="goog_870183192">@</complete>Kate M. from the Fall Chance Forum has scrambled up some of our favorite Rolf and Ranger's Story Quotes for you to untangle. The quote could come from any of this year's Rolf and Ranger Stories (i.e. <i>Cobble Hill</i>, <i>The Pumpkin Patch, Watching the Waters, Madison Hall, </i>or new<i> The Mary Ellen Carter chapters</i>)</span></h3>
<div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-2642550364850115850" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 706px;">
<div>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip15fCFNXoBwJnzijiPUEpTSzTpmtjG42unhdWLYZnyv7vi6nT91PBcnSv7TG9SLMqGe3a3CoDKOi4yvRRKW4PJEmSrMhqnyJThoXU3LqWgd-w2o4mBUo2MCCySDcNlCejFG3_gBhLrpE/s1600/pctree4.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip15fCFNXoBwJnzijiPUEpTSzTpmtjG42unhdWLYZnyv7vi6nT91PBcnSv7TG9SLMqGe3a3CoDKOi4yvRRKW4PJEmSrMhqnyJThoXU3LqWgd-w2o4mBUo2MCCySDcNlCejFG3_gBhLrpE/s200/pctree4.gif" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border-radius: 5px; border: 1px solid rgb(209, 209, 209); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 0px 20px; padding: 8px; position: relative;" width="200" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now, because Dale won't be playing (and we don't think any one else can do these in their heads, but let us know if you can) and a pencil and paper is still far too much like hard work--but go for it if that is how you want to spend Christmas vacation -- there is a handy tool <a href="http://rumkin.com/tools/cipher/cryptogram-solver.php" style="text-decoration-line: none;">HERE</a>!!</span><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">~*~ ~*~ ~*~</span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A link to the solution will be posted in tomorrow's Advent Calendar posting.<br /><br /><b>Here is your first Cryptogram:</b></span></div>
<div>
<b><span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 107%; text-transform: uppercase;"><span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“MRP
GYA’OS HYB WB EBUMWHXB PYCR. XYC PY GYA SOSR PMRFS BY NMBX?”</span></span></div>
</div>
tarabeth1210http://www.blogger.com/profile/14902928357845152351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3812077977994131831.post-54209417134522146432017-12-18T23:34:00.001-08:002017-12-18T23:34:22.986-08:002017 Cryptogram #9 Solution<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #8e7cc3;">The answer to Cryptogram #9 is:</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #8e7cc3;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">They had eighteen minutes and forty two seconds
before breakfast by his calculations, which would need to include showering and
shaving….. it was an interesting and highly motivating challenge, and Riley was
good at posing them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
With care, Dale got them to the kitchen with the job properly done and a minute
and a third still to spare. ~</span></span><i style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Madison’s Hall</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #5d5d5d; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 13.91px;"><span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #5d5d5d;"><i><span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Highlight the area above to display the cryptogram answer. Thank you to @Kate M from the Falls Chance Forum for our Cryptograms.</span></span></i></span>tarabeth1210http://www.blogger.com/profile/14902928357845152351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3812077977994131831.post-36472966079172408072017-12-18T23:26:00.004-08:002017-12-18T23:26:49.004-08:002017 FCR Trivia #4<span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b><i>The FCR Trivia Games were put together by the FCR Forum Moderators. </i></b> </span><br style="background-color: white;" /><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white;">1. What would one do faced with chicken on a raft? </span><br style="background-color: white;" /><br style="background-color: white;" /><span style="background-color: white;">2. In ‘Three Traders’, Riley wears a sweatshirt of which sports team? </span><br style="background-color: white;" /><br style="background-color: white;" /><span style="background-color: white;">3. Who introduced David to the music of Stan Rogers after seeing a performance in Canada? </span><br style="background-color: white;" /><br style="background-color: white;" /><span style="background-color: white;">4. What radio program is it family tradition to tune into every Christmas? </span><br style="background-color: white;" /><br style="background-color: white;" /><span style="background-color: white;">5. In what year did Gerry earn his diploma? </span><br style="background-color: white;" /><br style="background-color: white;" /><b style="background-color: white;"><i>A link with the answers will be published as part of tomorrow's Advent Calendar gift.</i></b></span>tarabeth1210http://www.blogger.com/profile/14902928357845152351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3812077977994131831.post-151060103064672762017-12-17T22:12:00.003-08:002017-12-17T22:12:47.039-08:002017 Cryptogram #9<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><complete id="goog_870183192">@</complete>Kate M. from the Fall Chance Forum has scrambled up some of our favorite Rolf and Ranger's Story Quotes for you to untangle. The quote could come from any of this year's Rolf and Ranger Stories (i.e. <i>Cobble Hill</i>, <i>The Pumpkin Patch, Watching the Waters, Madison Hall, </i>or new<i> The Mary Ellen Carter chapters</i>)</span></h3>
<div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-2642550364850115850" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 706px;">
<div>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip15fCFNXoBwJnzijiPUEpTSzTpmtjG42unhdWLYZnyv7vi6nT91PBcnSv7TG9SLMqGe3a3CoDKOi4yvRRKW4PJEmSrMhqnyJThoXU3LqWgd-w2o4mBUo2MCCySDcNlCejFG3_gBhLrpE/s1600/pctree4.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip15fCFNXoBwJnzijiPUEpTSzTpmtjG42unhdWLYZnyv7vi6nT91PBcnSv7TG9SLMqGe3a3CoDKOi4yvRRKW4PJEmSrMhqnyJThoXU3LqWgd-w2o4mBUo2MCCySDcNlCejFG3_gBhLrpE/s200/pctree4.gif" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border-radius: 5px; border: 1px solid rgb(209, 209, 209); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 0px 20px; padding: 8px; position: relative;" width="200" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now, because Dale won't be playing (and we don't think any one else can do these in their heads, but let us know if you can) and a pencil and paper is still far too much like hard work--but go for it if that is how you want to spend Christmas vacation -- there is a handy tool <a href="http://rumkin.com/tools/cipher/cryptogram-solver.php" style="text-decoration-line: none;">HERE</a>!!</span><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">~*~ ~*~ ~*~</span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A link to the solution will be posted in tomorrow's Advent Calendar posting.<br /><br /><b>Here is your first Cryptogram:</b></span></div>
<div>
<b><span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div>
<div class="puzzlecryptogramanswer" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 107%; text-transform: uppercase;"><span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">WQOT QBP OKXQWOOL FKLJWOI BLP YGNWT WMG IOZGLPI ROYGNO RNOBDYBIW RT QKI
ZBHZJHBWKGLI, MQKZQ MGJHP LOOP WG KLZHJPO IQGMONKLX BLP IQBUKLX….. KW MBI BL
KLWONOIWKLX BLP QKXQHT FGWKUBWKLX ZQBHHOLXO, BLP NKHOT MBI XGGP BW AGIKLX WQOF.
MKWQ ZBNO, PBHO XGW WQOF WG WQO DKWZQOL MKWQ WQO SGR ANGAONHT PGLO BLP B FKLJWO
BLP B WQKNP IWKHH WG IABNO</span></span></div>
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tarabeth1210http://www.blogger.com/profile/14902928357845152351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3812077977994131831.post-63572535436744185592017-12-17T22:09:00.004-08:002017-12-17T22:09:46.291-08:002017 Cryptogram #8 Solution<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">The answer to Cryptogram #8 is:</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span lang="EN-GB" style="background: white; line-height: 107%;">James is busy bailing out your insane brat. As
they do ~</span></i><span style="background-color: white;">Dale’s thoughts, The
Pumpkin Patch</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 13.91px;"><span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><i><span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Highlight the area above to display the cryptogram answer. Thank you to @Kate M from the Falls Chance Forum for our Cryptograms.</span></i></span>tarabeth1210http://www.blogger.com/profile/14902928357845152351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3812077977994131831.post-25174329543514760502017-12-16T00:02:00.002-08:002017-12-16T00:02:13.242-08:002017 Cryptogram #8<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; color: #3ed9d4; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><complete id="goog_870183192">@</complete>Kate M. from the Fall Chance Forum has scrambled up some of our favorite Rolf and Ranger's Story Quotes for you to untangle. The quote could come from any of this year's Rolf and Ranger Stories (i.e. <i>Cobble Hill</i>, <i>The Pumpkin Patch, Watching the Waters, Madison Hall, </i>or new<i> The Mary Ellen Carter chapters</i>)</span></span></h3>
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<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip15fCFNXoBwJnzijiPUEpTSzTpmtjG42unhdWLYZnyv7vi6nT91PBcnSv7TG9SLMqGe3a3CoDKOi4yvRRKW4PJEmSrMhqnyJThoXU3LqWgd-w2o4mBUo2MCCySDcNlCejFG3_gBhLrpE/s1600/pctree4.gif" imageanchor="1" style="color: #21aca6; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><img border="0" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip15fCFNXoBwJnzijiPUEpTSzTpmtjG42unhdWLYZnyv7vi6nT91PBcnSv7TG9SLMqGe3a3CoDKOi4yvRRKW4PJEmSrMhqnyJThoXU3LqWgd-w2o4mBUo2MCCySDcNlCejFG3_gBhLrpE/s200/pctree4.gif" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border-radius: 5px; border: 1px solid rgb(209, 209, 209); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 0px 20px; padding: 8px; position: relative;" width="200" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Now, because Dale won't be playing (and we don't think any one else can do these in their heads, but let us know if you can) and a pencil and paper is still far too much like hard work--but go for it if that is how you want to spend Christmas vacation -- there is a handy tool <a href="http://rumkin.com/tools/cipher/cryptogram-solver.php" style="color: #21aca6; text-decoration-line: none;">HERE</a>!!</span><div style="color: #5d5d5d; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">~*~ ~*~ ~*~</span></div>
<div style="color: #5d5d5d; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;">
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #5d5d5d; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;">
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">A link to the solution will be posted in tomorrow's Advent Calendar posting.<br /><br /><b>Here is your first Cryptogram:</b></span></div>
<div style="color: #5d5d5d; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;">
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div>
<div class="puzzlecryptogramanswer" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="text-transform: uppercase;"><span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">TLNMJ PJ IOJE ILPKPQD UOG EUOZ PQJLQM
IZLG. LJ GFME XU</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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tarabeth1210http://www.blogger.com/profile/14902928357845152351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3812077977994131831.post-8045422712845021482017-12-14T23:29:00.004-08:002017-12-14T23:29:41.571-08:002017 Cryptogram #7 Solution<span style="background-color: white; color: #5d5d5d; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">The answer to Cryptogram #7 is:</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #5d5d5d; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><br /></span></span>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="background: white; line-height: 107%;">“We’re just not going to talk about the
elephant in the pasture?” Riley demanded. </span><span style="background-color: white;">~Riley, <i>The Pumpkin Patch</i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #5d5d5d; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 13.91px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #5d5d5d; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><i style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Highlight the area above to display the cryptogram answer. Thank you to @Kate M from the Falls Chance Forum for our Cryptograms.</span></i></span>tarabeth1210http://www.blogger.com/profile/14902928357845152351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3812077977994131831.post-41390873201988750482017-12-12T23:18:00.000-08:002017-12-12T23:18:03.924-08:002017 Cryptogram #7<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><complete id="goog_870183192">@</complete>Kate M. from the Fall Chance Forum has scrambled up some of our favorite Rolf and Ranger's Story Quotes for you to untangle. The quote could come from any of this year's Rolf and Ranger Stories (i.e. <i>Cobble Hill</i>, <i>The Pumpkin Patch, Watching the Waters, Madison Hall, </i>or new<i> The Mary Ellen Carter chapters</i>)</span></h3>
<div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-2642550364850115850" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 706px;">
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<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip15fCFNXoBwJnzijiPUEpTSzTpmtjG42unhdWLYZnyv7vi6nT91PBcnSv7TG9SLMqGe3a3CoDKOi4yvRRKW4PJEmSrMhqnyJThoXU3LqWgd-w2o4mBUo2MCCySDcNlCejFG3_gBhLrpE/s1600/pctree4.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip15fCFNXoBwJnzijiPUEpTSzTpmtjG42unhdWLYZnyv7vi6nT91PBcnSv7TG9SLMqGe3a3CoDKOi4yvRRKW4PJEmSrMhqnyJThoXU3LqWgd-w2o4mBUo2MCCySDcNlCejFG3_gBhLrpE/s200/pctree4.gif" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border-radius: 5px; border: 1px solid rgb(209, 209, 209); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 0px 20px; padding: 8px; position: relative;" width="200" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now, because Dale won't be playing (and we don't think any one else can do these in their heads, but let us know if you can) and a pencil and paper is still far too much like hard work--but go for it if that is how you want to spend Christmas vacation -- there is a handy tool <a href="http://rumkin.com/tools/cipher/cryptogram-solver.php" style="text-decoration-line: none;">HERE</a>!!<br /></span><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">~*~ ~*~ ~*~</span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A link to the solution will be posted in tomorrow's Advent Calendar posting.<br /><br /><b>Here is your first Cryptogram:</b></span></div>
<div>
<b><span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 107%; text-transform: uppercase;"><span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“GA’QA WSDH ETH BTYEB HT
HRNO RUTSH HLA ANAZLREH YE HLA ZRDHSQA?” QYNAJ KAXREKAK.</span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #5d5d5d; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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tarabeth1210http://www.blogger.com/profile/14902928357845152351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3812077977994131831.post-69549090008552690252017-12-12T22:51:00.002-08:002017-12-12T22:51:34.433-08:002017 Cryptogram #6 Solution<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #5d5d5d;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">The answer to Cryptogram #4 is:</span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“Because filo pastry is swishier than sushi and a
threat to testosterone. You’re Neanderthals, both of you.” </span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">~Paul to Flynn & Riley, The Pumpkin Patch</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background: white; color: #5d5d5d; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #5d5d5d;"><i style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Highlight the area above to display the cryptogram answer. Thank you to @Kate M from the Falls Chance Forum for our Cryptograms.</span></i></span>tarabeth1210http://www.blogger.com/profile/14902928357845152351noreply@blogger.com0