Roswell Fanatics

Title: For the Roses

Category: Liz, CC

Rating: Mature, possibly more

Summary: Starts AU but then follows some season 1 and some season 2 cannon.

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything Roswell related. I read a lot of books and poetry. I also watch a lot of movies and listen to music, all of which influence my writings. All sources will be acknowledged, as far as I can remember. If I fail to do so or am incorrect, it is purely unintentional and please do let me know.

References: This particular story idea has been influenced by Mary Stewart. Epigraph from Adrienne Rich.

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Also runner-up for Best Story No One's Reading, But Everyone Should Be



Prologue –



I’ve wakened to your muttered words
spoken light- or dark years away
as if my own voice had spoken.
Twenty-One Love Poems, XII, vii-ix



My lover came to me last night. And in my dreams he told me to come home. Hurry home.

It sounds very odd when I put it like that. But that is exactly what happened.

My lover came to me in the middle of the night, when the scent of the jasmine and lavender growing outside my bedroom window was at its strongest. Their petals blew in with the soft summer breeze and the moonlight chased their insubstantial shadows over the ceiling and my bedspread. Memories of the past and home pirouetted across the room and the curtain between my dream-world and reality was faint and thinning.

I remember lying on my bed, my night shirt ruched around my thighs and the covers twisted around my feet. I rested on my side thinking over all the time that I had spent away from home, away from the smallest of the small towns. I remember thinking, I was happy. Fulfilled by my work and the life I had carved for myself. Happy here in my little cottage surrounding by a copse of juniper and oak trees, the wisteria climbing the walls, and the small brook bubbling through my backyard. My very own idyll and I was complete, except … except for the ache in my heart where he lived. I thought of all the years we had been apart, all the time I had spent wanting him, imagining him.

How much I wanted him – and then, there he was.

He came to me stealthily on the wings of my longing drenched in the scent of rose petals. For a moment I didn’t even realize the he was really there. Not really but enough to know it was him. There was a thickening of the shadows over my bed and a flicker of someone at the edge of my consciousness. It was the roses. The first undulating wave of scent that gradually settled on my naked skin, which made me sit up on a strangled breath.

That scent was only his. And, it has never wavered in its intensity neither has its effect on me. Not in all the years that he has come to me. But it wasn’t always like this.

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I’ve always been able to talk to him. For as long as I can remember he was a gentle voice, a wellspring of emotion, my companion in my mind. So many different things that I don’t suppose I could list them all even if I could. And, I know it was the same for him. Our communion emerged so naturally and so early that it never even occurred to me that it might not be, well normal. I never wondered if other people had their very own person with them all the time because, well, why wouldn’t they?

Everyone must have had what I did. Life would be so very empty without it. Even when he wasn’t there, he was always there. I remember asking him, when we were very young, whether we would always be like this and he seemed as confused as I, as to why it should be any different. After all, didn’t everyone have this?

It was only after I started freshman year in high school that I realized anything to the contrary. I was taking psychology and the teacher was discussing the existence of, and the belief in the paranormal. She talked about things like visitations from ghosts, telekinesis, psychometry and finally, telepathy. How such things could be interpreted as a sign of some kind of dementia or a use of an unknown part of the brain. There was no way that one could prove anything conclusively in favor of one or the other. Just that we would all have to establish our own positions and defend them in the paper we had to write on the topic.

Until the discussion on telepathy and how infrequent it was, I had never seriously thought about assigning a label to or understanding our easy stream of communication. However, that afternoon I went to the library and spent the remainder of the day researching telepathy and its various manifestations but it just didn’t match up to our undemanding mental companionship. I once asked my closest friends, in general terms, whether they could read me or knew what I was thinking or my reactions before I verbalized anything. They said, sometimes. But that was only because we had known each other since we were kids. Besides, things like telepathy or mind-reading were just too freaky to think about. Not to mention scientifically baseless.

I never told them otherwise.

When I mentioned this to my friend, his answer was the equivalent of a bewildered mental shrug. That was the last time I ever asked anyone about telepathy or thought transference. Our mutual thought censors worked far too effectively for that. Neither he nor I, during the course of our relationship ever gave any sign to anyone that we experienced something unusual. We never discussed each other with anyone. At the same time, we never identified ourselves to each other, either.

I still don’t know how we managed that. It isn’t as though I actively sought to hide myself from him or vice versa. It just never came up. I suppose when you inhabit each other for as long as we had it seemed irrelevant. We never explored each other’s minds, not because it wasn’t allowed but because there was no need for it. If he needed me to know anything then it would surface in his mind and then in mine. Whatever there was came right to the surface. The thought of there being any deep dark secrets between us seemed so laughable, then.

I don’t quite remember when he became my lover as well as my friend. I suppose it has something to do with the body seeking an outlet for its desires and when it can’t find physical expression it transfers them to the mind. The desire and longing that inhabited our minds was very real, as real as the heat which flushed my body when I thought of him. I sometimes think that because our desires found their outlets in our minds, in some respects, they were that much more intense and focused for it. Lately, in our more intense moments, the hunger that swamped me was almost as real as having his body pressing into mine. The hard planes of his chest pushing into the softness of my breasts and the acute sensation of sinking into him left me grappling for something, anything to hold onto. No real lover could have had a greater effect.

For us, it all happened so slowly that I think we slid past the awkward stage into the rituals of courtship. Matters were much less confusing since there were no actual inexpert fumbling bodies involved.

At fifteen, and he not that much older, we held hands for the first time. It sounds silly to think that we held mental hands, but that is exactly what it was. The emotions that it evoked, I imagine were much like the physical act of holding hands. Things like kissing and moving ahead with our relationship without actually making love came later, but were delicious when they did. My parents, like other parents, were quite delighted at the thought of having a daughter, who had no interest in boys, except casually. This isn’t to say that I didn’t go out or go to dances or things of that sort, I did. It was just, very casual.

The idea of having a girlfriend made him uncomfortable. And after my first kiss, I discovered rather unpleasantly, that being with someone else felt far too much like cheating.

As far as kisses go it wasn’t bad at all. He was the good-looking super jock, a part of the cool clique at school. And the fact that he wanted to go out with me, in the face of obvious social disapproval (c’mon, this was high school. And we all know how nasty that can get) made me wonder if this was HIM.

We went to dinner and the movies. He remained curiously silent in my head. At the end of the evening, when he dropped me off at my front door, I looked at him questioningly. Didn’t he know what was going on in my head? Didn’t he know how badly I wanted him to run his well-shaped hands through my hair and lift my mouth to his? Didn’t he want to touch me as badly as I wanted to be touched by him?

As if that was the signal he was waiting for he leaned forward and kissed me.

Nothing. Zip. Nada. Zilch. That is what I felt when he was feathering is lips softly across my forehead, my cheekbones and finally rested his mouth on mine. His mouth was soft and dry. His lips firm on mine, shaping themselves against mine for one more moment, he drew back breathing softly. I whispered good night to him and went up to my room my mind swirling with thoughts, disappointment, emptiness, and guilt. So much guilt, I thought I would drown in it.

Sorry. I’m so sorry, I whispered out loud to him.

A soft exhalation and then for the first time since I had known him the scent of rose petals floated through the room. It was accompanied by desire and love and he inundated me with his feelings of helplessness for having to witness that scene and regret for not giving me my first kiss. At that moment, in the company of roses, I knew that he would only ever be the only one for me. And I would be his.

After that night, he has come to me with the roses so much so that the scent has seeped into my skin and hair. So, tonight when he came to me the ache in my heart and body eased a little as I breathed him in.

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Except, he had never to come to me with kind of urgency before. There had been haste before and even desperation, but never this level of…discomfort. Something was wrong.

“Sweetness, can you hear me?” wraithlike shadows moved overhead.

“Love?”

“Yes, yes, I’m here.”

“Oh, good! For a minute, I was afraid…”

“What’s happened? What is it? Are you all right?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just, can you come home?”

There it was again that underlying sense of urgency. Something was wrong, and he was hiding it. I wasn’t surprised at the request. He had always known me best. Just earlier today, I had been thinking of going home, visiting with my parents.

“I was just thinking of coming home today. What is it? Are you ok? Is it my parents?”

“No, no, shhh. Something…something is wrong. I don’t…If you were thinking of coming home then come today…get here in time.”

His voice-thoughts were fading in and out. It felt as if the frequency we were on was distorting our thought patterns. But the emotions accompanying his thoughts reached me clearly.

There was a wave of longing so intense I could almost taste rose petals in my mouth. Feel them being crushed under my bare thighs as they pressed into the bed. Phantom juices stained the palms of my hands as I raised myself on my knees. Longing followed by guilt, so much of it –

“Lover,”

“Yes,” came the muted response, as though batteries were running out of power.

“Will you be there?”

There was a moment of hesitation and in that one moment, all my fears and doubts and suppressed desires flooded through the links that bound us together.

“Oh, God! When, when will you be there? When will it be time?” I sobbed out loud.

And through the darkness and across the distance came the answer. A tide of emotion shouldered its way through the darkness in my room and the cobwebs of worry and fear that were beginning to take shape.

“Soon,” replied my lover, and the answer was as bracing as a hug and a soothing hand stroking through my hair.

Then he was gone.

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At six o’clock that morning, just as I had sent an email to the head of my department telling him that starting today I would be using my accrued vacation time, my phone rang.

“Hello?” it was my father.

“Hello daddy!”

“Liz, it’s about your grandmother. She’s taken very ill and is in the hospital. Can you come home?”[/img]

Thank you for the feedback everyone and welcome to all the new readers.

A quick fly-bye post...hopefully will respond to you all soon.

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Chapter 1 –


With tears augmenting the fresh morning’s dew.
Romeo and Juliet, I, i

I never write the words I meant to write.
Those come from where I’ve been, looking for me;
they are a door ajar, as if they might
almost be true, and almost make me free.
Parallax, i-iv



My name is Liz Parker and today, after four years, I’m going home.

I capped my pen after writing those last words in my journal. It is amazing the amount of time one has to just be when traveling in an airplane across a continent and half and an entire ocean. With nothing but my thoughts to keep me company I thought over what my father had said over the telephone.

Grandma Claudia had been at the reservation that day. Her assistant had gone home and she was finishing up her remaining research for the day. According to the Sheriff and the hospital, she must have had the heart attack while driving home. Her car had spun out of control and crashed into a telephone pole. She’d hit her head on the steering wheel and had been knocked unconscious. It had been soon after that that a motorist had seen the car, and brought her to the hospital. He was the one who had called my parents based on her contact information and left a message at the house as well.

It must have been when she had the heart attack, or right before, that my lover must have come to me. He had seemed strained, anxious even. Uncertain and unsure about what was happening, just that something was terribly wrong. Maybe that’s what the guilt was – he hadn’t been able to stop the accident. He hadn’t been able to help her.

It wouldn’t occur to me until much later that only he and I were connected. So, how had he known?

But right then thousands of miles above earthbound worries, I was grateful that he had come to me. That in grief, just as in happiness we were together. Instead, I thought back over all the time I had spent with my Grandma Claudia.

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She wasn’t your usual grandmother. In fact, she was as unconventional as a grandparent could be. Free spirited. Independent. Adventurous. Passionate. Courageous. But most of all, she loved me, absolutely and completely.

My first memory of her is when I was five. She had just returned from a dig in Alexandria. Like a modern day djinn she came laden with gifts and stories of everything that she had done and seen. But most of all, I remember how her face lit up when I ran into her arms. After Him, she loved me, better yet, understood me best. Don’t get me wrong, my parents are great. I have a good relationship with them, we’ve never really argued about anything, except for college. I’ll get to that later. But, I could talk with Grandma Claudia about everything under the sun, my friends, school, my parents and all my dreams. She even loved my two best friends: Maria and Alex.

She came to visit us in Roswell every year after I turned five and later when I became a teenager, I got to spend at least a small part of my summer vacations with her. It was great fun. What teenager doesn’t want to hang out with a world renowned archeologist on their excavations in the continent USA, especially when that archeologist happens to be their favorite grandmother! Sometimes, Alex and Maria came along as well. Like I said, it was great fun!

Grandma encouraged my pursuit of science. She wanted to me to have the courage to follow my dreams, and to become the best of whatever I was destined to be. Destiny. I’ve always found that an odd word. And when she used it in connection with my dreams with a bittersweet smile I couldn’t help but wonder what she meant.

Always listen to your heart, Honey Bear. It will never lead you astray.

Never be afraid of the unknown. Remember to take things on faith, she’d say.

Not everything that we can touch, taste, or see is real. And, not everything we can’t see but feel and sense is unreal. There are many things in heaven, earth and in between that are just…magic. She would end on a sigh.

The signs were there all along, but when you are a kid and later a teenager it seems inconceivable that anyone knows what you know or feel. There are truths hiding beneath the normal and the mundane that actively seek to be discovered. Hamlet had it right all along as did grandma. It just took me a little longer to understand that.

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(Flashback – summer after eighth grade)

It was night and the stars were shining brightly in the clear cloudless skies. The group had set up camp at a designated site near the Grand Canyon. Standing on the roof of the world, anything seemed possible. These rocks, crevices, and caverns had witnessed more human history than all of humanity combined. It was night filled with the promise of all that had been, all that was to come and all that was to be. The universe seemed willing to reveal a small portion of its secrets to one of its children. Were they listening?

“So you see, the Anasazi lived here for a great many years. They lived in these very hills, and had a flourishing civilization until one day they disappeared. Poof, just like that!” Claudia ended her lecture on the Anasazi with a flourish. Her rapt audience let out its combined breaths. Liz, Alex and Maria looked around in wide-eyed fascination. To think that history lived in the very rocks they would sleep on was thrilling beyond words.

“How could they just disappear?” Maria asked breathlessly, her eyes wide. Her imagination ran amok with thoughts of mass abductions, magic spells, mysterious diseases and aliens.

“Well, the disappearance of the Anasazi is one of the mysteries that archeologists and historians haven’t been able to solve yet,” Claudia replied, fueling Maria’s wilder fantasies.

“But, if they lived for so long then they must have left some clues about where they went, right?” Alex continued a little more temperately. Maria and Liz always made fun of his desire to play detective, and the fact that Roswell, the smallest of all small towns, was too dull for a decent mystery. But here was Grandma Claudia, admitting that the Anasazi were a mystery. And not just any mystery, but a mystery of historical and archeological significance! Who new how advanced their civilization had been? Maybe like the Aztecs and the Egyptians they had advanced mathematics or calculus or maybe…they could have done anything, really. Holy, wow!

“Well, they did leave something behind…”

She was interrupted by loud choruses of “what,” “what,” “where” from the three teens.

“Tomorrow when we go down to the base of the Canyon I’ll take you to some of the inner chambers, where there are some hieroglyphics and symbols on the walls. Cryptographers and linguists have tried to break them down and decipher their meaning for years now, but no one has succeeded. However,”

“Ooh,” breathed Maria.

“But, the one thing that we can say with certainty is that similar symbols were found at the Indus Valley and Harrappa excavations as well as a place much closer to home.”

“How is that possible? How can symbols found in North America be the same as those found in the Indian subcontinent?” Alex mused out loud. Hmm, this was getting more and more interesting. Just as he was about to ask grandma Claudia about computer language translation programs he saw Maria’s raised eyebrows.

“What?”

“Indian Subcontinent?” Maria giggled. “Since when have you been such an expert on geography? You can’t even find your way to the boys locker room at school.”

“Hey!” Alex cried as both Maria and grandma Claudia burst out laughing.

“Wait till I tell you about the third place, Alex. If that doesn’t raise your detecting instincts, well, then I’ve misjudged my audience.” Claudia teased. Despite Alex’s geeky appearance: skinny, tall, double-jointed, cowlick and wide dimpled grin, he fancied himself quite the stud! Well that failing, a hero at the very least. His detective aspirations weren’t as discrete as he imagined.

“It’s at the Mesaliko Reservation isn’t it? Near Roswell?” Liz spoke quietly for the first time that evening looking straight at her grandmother.

“Yes,” her grandmother continued, “Some people have even gone so far as to say that the symbols are not man-made.”

”What, you mean made by aliens?” Liz scoffed.

“Would that be so strange, Lizzie?” Claudia asked intently, searching Liz’s face for, something.

In that moment, the tone of the evening shifted from fun and games to something a little more serious. The evening breeze settled with a hush and the stars overhead glowed a little brighter and seemed closer. The pause that followed Claudia’s question was pregnant with meaning. Alex and Maria shifted closer together. And the firmament waited…

Never breaking eye contact, Liz spoke firmly, “I don’t believe in aliens. There is no scientific fact or proof of their existence.”

“And, does everything always have to be proved? Isn’t there anything that you can think of Lizzie, which cannot be proven but simply is?” Claudia pressed her.

A pause and then, “No, nothing.”

Claudia got up from her seat, leaned in and kissed Liz’s forehead before saying, “well, then you must be right, Honey Bear. Bed time, you guys. We have a long day ahead of us.”

And just like that the moment dissolved as if it never was.


(End flashback)

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It’s odd. I haven’t thought of that evening in years. We never mentioned it again. In fact, I don’t even remember ever visiting the reservation with grandma.

Anyway, that was just one trip, there were many more in the following years. If it weren’t for her I would have spent my life working at the Crashdown, the café my parents ran. In my sophomore year in high school Claudia came to visit us during the school year. It was a big deal since she never deviated from her routines. I asked her why that was.

She said, “When you’re older, darling, you’ll learn that sometimes routines, no matter how unusual, or how abnormal they might seem to others, keep us sane.”

She must have seen the confused look on my face. Because before I could ask her anything else, cupping my face in her hands, she said “Everyone has their own normal Lizzie. And sometimes it is our own normal that gives us the greatest pleasure.”

I had the faintest feeling that all of a sudden we were talking about something completely different. Continuing in a much lighter vein, “but I’m rambling.” Shaking her head a little, “Now why don’t you tell me why you aren’t smiling and why your beautiful eyes have tears in them?”

That year, she came to visit right before Christmas. I swear, sometimes she had an uncanny knack of arriving or calling when I was at my lowest or things were just not going well. And that year, I had had one of the worst ever rows with my parents. They were being completely unreasonable. I had done very well all through high-school and according to the guidance counselor, if I continued at the same rate I’d be able to graduate from high-school a year early. I’d finish by the time I was seventeen and that would give me a year before college started.

A year to be free. A year to do whatever I wanted before I set out on the path that my parents had charted out for me. A path that I’d never deviated from. Aside from my lover, who I clutched to my chest like the precious secret that he was, my parents had regimented every single portion of my life except for this one year.

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(Flashback – December Break Sophomore Year)

Already it looked like this conversation wouldn’t go well. It was doomed before it even started, Liz thought to herself sourly.

Jeffrey Parker had just come up from the café furious with Agnes and the wait staff in general. He grumbled about Agnes breaking twenty brand new dishes because she had been trying to eke every last second out of her break. As if that wasn’t bad enough she’d then started smoking near the back entrance because it was so cold and had set off the fire alarm. Jose and she had gotten into a screaming match and the new waitresses (because Maria and Liz were off) had been utterly incapable of serving the customers or maintaining any sort of order. As a result, he had had to tell Agnes to leave and Jose stormed out soon after. The Sheriff had come in response to the fire alarm and the restaurant had to be closed early. All in all, it had been a day from hell her father spoke right over her greeting.

Her mother had spent a good part of the evening talking to their suppliers in Albuquerque. They kept messing up orders and with the holiday season coming up they couldn’t afford any screw ups. The supplier had either been unwilling or had been unable to understand that concept, as a result, her mother had slammed down the phone and stalked into the bedroom complaining bitterly of a headache and incompetent fools.

Needless to say, dinner was a silent and brooding affair. But it was also the only time Liz could talk to both her parents together. It was going to be hard enough to tell them that she wanted to graduate a year early and take a year off once, having the conversation twice was impossible.

“Mum, Dad,” Liz started softly.

“Yes, honey,” her father replied giving her half his attention.

“I was talking to the guidance counselor today, you know, at school. And she said that well, I’ve been doing really well at school.”

“Of course you have honey. You are going to be valedictorian,” Nancy responded beaming a proud smile at her only child.

“Yeah, about that. Well, she said that if I wanted to, I could, umm, I could graduate early. Because I have the grades, and I have enough credits to do that. And so, if I took some classes over December break and summer school during the summer. Well, not through all of summer, because grandma will be here. But, if I could take summer school through half the summer and kept the same work load in my junior year, I could graduate early. A year early,” Liz rushed out in one breath.

Her eyes flickered from her mother to her father. How would they react to that? Well, that was the easy part of the conversation. The hard part was about the year… one thing at a time, Liz. She cautioned herself.

“Honey, that’s wonderful!”

“Isn’t that too much work?” Jeff and Nancy exclaimed simultaneously.

“Yeah, it is a bit. But I am sure I can manage it.” Liz was quite confident of that. The year off was a damn big incentive and she’d kill herself if she had to. Well not kill precisely, because then who’d enjoy the year off, she thought a little hysterically.

“But what if it’s too much, honey?” Nancy’s concerned voice broke through her musings.

Liz was so fragile, really. She either spent her time studying, or working, or with Maria and Alex. That wasn’t exactly healthy for her age. After all, girls her age, how old was she – fifteen, sixteen – girls her age went out and had boyfriends and things like that. But Liz was so quiet. It wasn’t that her daughter was shy. No, in fact she was pretty vocal when it came to something she felt strongly about. But, on the whole, the only time Nancy had seen her animated or vivacious was when she was with her friends, or when Claudia was here. She seemed happiest alone in her room, dancing or singing. And sometimes, Nancy had caught her talking to herself or laughing out loud. It just wasn’t normal. A beautiful girl like Liz shouldn’t spend the best years of her life studying or locked away in her room. And, her father seemed to encourage it.

Well, not any more, Nancy thought firmly. Fine, she wasn’t as close to Liz as Jeff was but that didn’t mean that she didn’t have a say in how her daughter spent her life. If she wanted to finish early then that was fine. However, it would not be at the expense of her health or her youth. She was still a teenager. She was a mature and responsible one but a teenager, nonetheless. But there was no way she’d let Jeff railroad her into working any harder. And definitely not start college early, which was the first thing Jeff would bring up. Good grief, if the man had his way she’d be locked up in a monastery!

Sure enough, as though reading her thoughts, those were the next words out of Jeff’s mouth.

“That sounds great, honey. Whatever you want. If you still want to work at the café then I’ll let you pick whatever shifts you want, ok. And this way, you can start at Harvard early.”

“Jeff, honey,” Nancy interjected before he could pick up any steam.

Here goes nothing, Liz thought.

“Yeah, about that year – I thought I could take it off.”

“What do you mean? I thought we had agreed that you’d start college early,” her father said losing his smile.

“Damn!” thought Nancy, willing him to take back those words. Liz hated being patronized even more than she loathed being maneuvered something she did get from her mother.

“No, dad. ‘WE’ didn’t decide anything. You decided.” Liz ground out. “I was saying that I wanted to take the year off.”

“Jeff, Liz, please!” Nancy tried once again.

“Honey, you go on those vacations with Claudia. You get to pick your schedule at the café and have as much time off as you need. What more time off could you want?” Jeffrey asked, as if humoring a small child.

“Please, picking my shifts at the café does not give me free time. It only means that I can organize my study schedule better. As for the vacations, you don’t think I don’t know about the arguments Grandma has with you every single time she wants to take me anywhere. The walls in our house aren’t soundproof. She has to convince you for days before you let me go with her anywhere in the continental USA. I remember the huge fight you two had when she wanted to take me to the Grand Canyon.” Liz’s eyes flashed with suppressed anger.

The injustice of it all. She couldn’t believe her father. Of the two she had expected her mother to have an issue with the idea but there she was sitting serenely. And was that sympathy she saw in her face?

How dare he! Ugh. After all the time that she’d spent working her ass off at school and at the café her father had the audacity to tell her that she didn’t need time off. That’s what happens when you’re the model child. Your parents begin to think that you are a spineless twit who’ll do anything her parents tell her. Well not anymore, Liz ground her teeth audibly.

She knew her reaction was excessive given the conversation, and if her father’s spluttering was any indication, he wouldn’t be patronizing her anytime soon. Ooh, she could just scream. And in the middle of that maelstrom of emotion she felt Him. He soothed her through their connection. Gentled her soul and smoothed out the anger roiling inside her.

“Can you believe it?” her thoughts spat out through a red haze.

“Shh, it’s ok. It’ll work out. I promise. Just breathe, ok.” He blew a stream of calming thoughts her way.

“NO! It is NOT OK!” She ground out. “How can you say that? Aren’t you listening to this?”

A rueful sigh floated through her mind. She could feel Him looking at her intently, while His touch stilled on her arm.

He whispered, “Do you trust me?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Liz argued in no mood to be reasonable.

The gentle stroking resumed. Then He asked her again,

“It was a simple question. Do you trust me?”

“Yes, I do. Although I still don’t – mmph!”

He cut across her thoughts sharply.

“Everything will be fine."

With a last pat, He faded to a low hum in the back of her mind.

“Liz, I’m talking to you,” her father said loudly.

Feeling a little more in control, Liz calmly started stacking dinner plates. After all, He had said it would be ok. Besides this wasn’t her. She didn’t shriek or lose her temper. She was logical. And, logic would win this argument.

Walking over to the dishwasher and popped it open. “Yes, dad, I’m listening.”

“You are too young…”

Before Jeff could say anything more Liz cut him off. Screw listening!

Slamming the dishwasher shut, she spun around on her heel and said,

“Look dad, if any of this conversation involves things like: you are too young, immature, don’t have the resources etc then don’t waste your breath. Let me just tell you right now, I can’t do anything about my age. I am very responsible and reliable, which you know. And, yes, I do have the money to travel, take a vacation, stay at home, or do whatever else I please. So, unless we are going to talk about what I want to do in my year off and how I intend to spend my time off – I can’t talk to you about this anymore.”

“That’s enough Liz. You’ve made your position perfectly clear.” Nancy spoke evenly breaking the silence after Liz’s tirade ended.

“But, Nancy,” Jeff started to say only to have his wife continue to speak right over him.

“I’m sure your father misspoke a little.” A narrow eyed glare shot at Jeff.

“We both appreciate that you’ve been working very hard. And of course you deserve time off. Your personal time.”

Seeing Liz’s mouth fall open with surprise, she continued gentle amusement lacing her words.

“Anyway, I’m glad you spoke to us about this early on. It means that we have some time before we decide anything, right? I think your year off sounds like a wonderful idea and of course we will be discussing how you plan to spend it. Right, then, why don’t we revisit this in a few days,” Nancy concluded giving both her husband and daughter a firm look.

“Oh, and do close your mouth honey. Goodnight.” Nancy patted Liz’s shoulder as her daughter’s mouth shut with an audible snap, before leaving the room.

The next two days were tense and silent in the Parker household. Liz and her dad avoided each other and any conversation they had was stilted and restricted to pleasantries. Since she was on break, most of her time was spent with Maria and Alex. Both of whom were very sympathetic. They knew how much fighting with her father upset her and made sure that every minute of her day was spent laughing, joking or talking. Filled with noise, until there was no room left to brood or worry.

Then on the third day of the cold war, Grandma Claudia arrived.

“Grandma, you’re here!” Liz cried, flinging herself into her grandmother’s welcoming arms.

“Of course, honey bear, you didn’t think I’d let you be upset for long, did you?”

“Yes, but how did you know?”

“Oh, I have my ways,” Claudia smiled mysteriously. “Now why don’t you tell me why you aren’t smiling and why your beautiful eyes have tears in them?”

“It has been so awful. Dad is being so unreasonable. I hate it,” Liz exclaimed miserably.

“Well, why don’t we sit down and then you can tell me all about it. I’m sure my wayward son, and my precious honey bear can come to an agreement. Hmm, what do you say?”

Once Liz finished telling her the story, punctuated by sympathetic interruptions from Alex and Maria, Claudia went in search of her son. Later on, no matter what they did, neither Nancy nor Liz could pry out any details of the conversation that the two had. Two hours later when Jeffrey came out he told Liz that she could take her year off. Her mother was right, he wasn’t being fair and she didn’t need to dip into her savings. They’d give her the money as a graduation present.

Then he asked her:

“How’d you like to go to England, honey? Your grandma is going on a lecture tour. I’m sure she’d be more than happy for you to come with her. And, while you’re there maybe you could look at some schools…”

“Dad!”

“Your old man’s trying, Lizzie.”

And, with that conversation everything was all right, again. Something had changed but maybe it was better this way.

(End flashback)

*************************************************************

I went to England that summer, and fell in love with its verdant hills, its lush greens, the gentle rain, and its marvelous history making itself felt. I’d never thought of any other school aside from Harvard but England, felt like home. It felt familiar. It fit me. The entire time that I was there, a sense of déjà vu shadowed me. I didn’t really think about it. It just was.

We visited Oxford, one afternoon and there it was – the place where I would be happy.

I, Liz Parker, the smallest of small town girl’s, felt at home in the quiet academic village. The cobbled streets, the tea shops, the spires and like Lewis’s Alice’s I fell down the warren hole. Except, unlike his Alice, I never wanted the enchantment of Magdalene College and my honeysuckle clad cottage to break. If this was a dream then let me dream on.

I started college, when I turned eighteen. I got a scholarship from the Microbiology department and jumpstarted on the Phd. track after my first year there. I was happy with my professors and my department and never thought of leaving --until today.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seatbelts we are about to begin our descent into Albuquerque’s international airport. We hope you had a pleasant trip. For those of our passengers who are making onward connections, we wish you a safe journey. For those whose final destination is Albuquerque – welcome home!”

*************************************************************

I never did take that year off. But as I look around the airport, the cool desert air swirling around me, maybe it was just as well. If home is where the heart is then as my lover said, this is the right time, to find my home, to find my heart and to find Him.

Welcome home, Liz.

References: Shakespeare and Pablo Medina.

Chapter 2 –


Why, how now, kinsman!

Romeo and Juliet, I, ii


The night is ocean, horizon,
bass of solitude and pitch,
a door to closing,
a wisp of wind
and not a breath
to bring you home.
Waiting For You, i-vi



“Lizzie! LIZZIE! Oh my God petunia! You look so beautiful. I’ve missed you like crazy. She’s back, Alex. No wait, I can’t let go just yet…”

That was Maria, my best friend in the world, currently trying to hug the life out of me. But then, that is Maria: loud and exuberant, vivacious and timid, confident and insecure by turns. A stunning, green eyed, golden haired, pouting paradox, with a voice a Diva would be proud of.

Words never capture all the facets of her shimmering personality. They never reveal her endless capacity for love and forgiveness. They never do justice to her thirst for life. The closest that I’ve ever come to capturing her puckish personality is by imagining bangles.

That didn’t come out quite as clearly as I thought. Umm, have you ever seen glass bangles? Not the manufactured plastic ones but the real glass ones that are baked and tempered by a fire so hot, it would melt human skin if you stood close enough. Glass bangles, with ornate designs and textures that shimmer and sparkle, in the hot sun or under the pale moonlight; glass bangles that appear so delicate it seems a loud breath would shatter them into a thousand shards let alone throwing them on the ground. And yet, they are virtually indestructible. A thing of so much fragility, sensuous in its richness of sound and color can only be broken if you apply pressure on its one miniscule joint. A tap of your finger on just that spot and its tinkling magic dissolves into the crackling of broken glass.

Maria is just like those bangles. Her richness of being sparkles and attracts no matter where she is, no matter who she’s with or what she’s doing. You stare at her in fascination and wonderment and when she leaves it’s as if, a little bit of Maria magic sticks to you. And things seem just a little bit glossier, just a little bit more fun. But underneath all that glamour there is a vein of sentimentality and sensitivity that despite her proclamations of being a ‘Teflon Girl!’ bleeds easily. And once it bleeds, it is terribly hard to staunch the flow.

But for today, she is twinkling and happy. Delighted to see me and I can’t help but hug her tightly.

“I’ve missed you too.”

“Oh Lizzie, I’m so sorry about Grandma Claudia, babe. But she’s better now. Tell her Alex. She really is. You must be so tired. How long have you been traveling? How did you manage to get time off so quickly and the flight….it’s good you found a flight so early, right?” Maria rushed out in one long breath. Her eyes brightened by unshed tears.

Liz was back. Her best friend was back and now, now things would be just the way they were before. The three of them were together again. It had been far too long.

“C’mon Deluca, let the girl breathe.” That was Alex, his eyes sad for the reason of my arrival but, I would guess, happy that his girls were finally with him. He gently moved Maria aside and pulled me into his lanky frame.

His voice feathering over the side of my face and neck, “I’m sorry, it had to be like this Lizzie-bell!”

And that was it. The old nickname, that I’d first heard in sixth grade when I’d fallen off a tree and broken my arm, clicked in my head and I wondered how in the world I had ever done without him, without them both. How had I managed without Alex and Maria?

In that one moment, I felt just like that seventeen year old girl, who had left home and all that was familiar to respond to the call of her dreams.

**********************************************

(Flashback – The summer after Junior Year at the airport)

Liz didn’t think saying goodbye to her parents was going to be as hard as leaving Maria and Alex.

Once her father had come around to her going off to Oxford, her parents had enthusiastically taken to organizing the expedition. There were new clothes, shoes, linens, pillows, duvets, candles and everything else under the sun that a girl could need while in college. There were daily shopping expeditions with her mother and Maria.

Her father had enthusiastically researched exchange rates, opening bank accounts, getting passports and tickets and in general behaved like a man who was delighted with sending off his only daughter to college on a different continent.

The day before she’d left her parents had asked her who she’d like to go to the airport with her.

“Honey, your mother and I, would both love to go to the airport with you but it’s just not possible. Someone needs to be here, especially since Jose has the day off and I’ve given Maria the day off.” Jeff asked Liz.

They were all sitting in the lounge in their apartment. The restaurant was closed for the night. Liz’s suitcases were standing in the hallway. Her passport and tickets sat on the alcove next to the front door. Nancy and she had just finished discussing what she should wear to the airport and on the flight. Since the weather was going to be warm they’d both settled on brown low slung cargoes with a ribbed black t-shirt and a black cotton cardigan that her mother had bought that day. They had decided on her black Doc Martens because they were comfortable and socks would help keep her feet warm.

“Well, I’d like both of you to come,” Liz said a little uncertainly.

Now that the time for her departure was coming up she was feeling a little nervous. What did she know about living in a different country? Yes, they spoke English and so did she, but really, aside from that, this was quite possibly the craziest idea she had ever had. She’d never been away from home longer than a fortnight and here she was all set to spend four years in a different country, on a different continent!

I’ve made a horrible mistake. I’ll just tell mum and dad that this is a bad idea. I can’t go. What was I thinking? Liz thought to herself frantically. Her breathing sped up and just as she was about to launch into a full fledged panic attack Nancy spoke.

“Liz, since you would like both your dad and I to come to the airport, and that’s just not possible why don’t we say goodbye here tomorrow morning, ok? We can have breakfast together, the three of us. And, then, Maria and Alex can drop you at the airport.” Nancy’s soft voice drew Liz out of her panicked musings.

“What do you think, Liz? That way you can spend some time with us and then say goodbye to your friends in private. Hmmm?” Her mother’s placid acceptance of the scenes that would take place in the morning gave Liz some courage.

It wouldn’t be so bad really. She’d get to spend time with both her parents and Ria and Alex in private. And her mother had just been telling her last night that if she didn’t like it she could come home. No one would be angry or blame her. And, she shouldn’t worry because there was plenty of money for it. The main thing was that she be happy and never feel regret for not going.

“Yeah Mum, thanks. That sounds good.”

So here they were. The three of them for the last time, it seemed. Liz, Maria and Alex - The three musketeers.

Maria’s face was red and her eyes filmed over with tears. She had talked frantically during the entire ride to the airport. Giving Liz crazy advice, telling her not to work too hard, enjoy herself, go out, date some hottie and most of all, make damn sure to have sex with Prince William. After all, Maria concluded, her voice rich with laughter, he had filled out quite nicely!

But now, that Liz had checked in and grandma Claudia had gone through customs and immigration to give the three of them some privacy, she didn’t look so happy. She’d run out of jokes and good humor. Her best friend, her sister was leaving the country and God alone knew when they’d meet each other again.

“You have everything you need, right Lizzie? You have snacks for the plane, your discman, something to read – you have everything right?” Maria babbled without looking at Liz.

“Ria,” Liz spoke gently.

“Because airport food is crazy expensive. And you might get hungry in the middle, or bored. Right? And that would really suck. I mean, your flight is going to be long enough as it is, it’d be horrible if you were bored or hungry. So,” Maria continued without looking up.

“Ria,” Liz said exchanging a helpless look with Alex.

“Oh, do you have bubble gum? You need gum to pop your ears. And you know how badly your ears hurt. Right, Alex? Don’t you remember how her ears hurt on the roller coaster and she was so sick afterward. Maybe you should…” Whatever Maria was going to say next was lost when Liz suddenly took her by the shoulders and shook her.

“I love you Ria. Say goodbye, please?”

Before the words were even out of her mouth, Maria crumbled. “Lizzie,” she wailed.

“What will I do without you? We’ve seen each other everyday since we were five and now you’re leaving. I’m gonna miss you so much.”

In an abrupt change of tone, she continued “Who’ll help me break Pam Troy’s nose the week before Prom? We’ve been planning that since eighth grade!” Both Liz and Alex burst out laughing.

“Ah! The truth finally comes out,” Alex teased wriggling his eyebrows causing more laughter.

“You’re not really upset that Lizzie is leaving, you’re just upset that no one will hold down Pam Troy. Never fear good lady, Alexander Charles Whitman is at your service!”

When the laughter had subsided Maria looked at Liz and said, “I love you, chica! And I am so thrilled that you get to do this because I know how much it means to you. It couldn’t happen to someone who deserved it more.”

Taking a deep breath she continued, “And I just want you to know before hand – CONGRATULATIONS – you are gonna kick ass! Remember, different continent or not, I’ve always got your back.”

Turning to Alex, Maria raised an eyebrow, “Your turn, Sir Alex!”

Alex uncurled a long arm and pulled Liz into his chest. Holding her for a long moment, he said “I love you Lizzie-bell! I want you to always remember that. You are a wonderful person and you’re gonna do great things.”

Leaning away from Liz, he cupped her small face in his hands. His thumbs pressed away the sparkling diamonds clinging to her lashes and the solitary tear making its way across her cheek.

In a whisper, intended only for her ears, “No matter what happens – THIS -- what we have right here will NEVER change. I promise.”

And before Liz could respond he pulled Maria into a three way hug, saying loudly “last hug with my two best girls, let’s make it a good one people.”

Only to have Maria piping up, “Your two ONLY girls, Whitman!”

(End flashback)

**********************************************

Alex and Maria. Maria and Alex. The two just seem to go together in my head. They are connected in a way that has nothing to do with reason, logic or rationality – my stock in trade. They do have everything to do with fate and destiny.

I believe that we were intended to be friends. I believe that we were intended to provide each other the solace, comfort, love and laughter that we couldn’t find anywhere else. And, with every fiber in my being, I believe that we are stronger together then apart.

“Is that all your stuff, Liz?” Alex asked hefting two suitcases and signaling to Maria to get Liz’s hand bag.

“Yeah. I didn’t really get a lot of time to pack, you know? So I don’t even know what is in those suitcases.” I answered distractedly.

I just wanted to go to home or to the hospital or to wherever grandma Claudia was. I love my friends, but right now I just wanted to go see her with my own eyes. Make sure that everything was ok.

Both Alex and Ria always sensitive to my moods pulled me along with them to the car a large SUV actually. It is strange the things you notice when you are upset. The first thing that crossed my mind, once Alex had stowed away the luggage, Ria had gotten comfortable on the backseat and I’d claimed the passenger side in front was that this really didn’t look like the kind of vehicle that either Ria or Alex would drive. Like I said, strange!

There was something very familiar about the car. It was a Honda CRV, one of the new hybrid four wheel drives, and not a car buff, I found it odd that I knew just what make and model it was. There was something about that car…The color an odd silver-green seemed reminiscent of…something.

“Liz, Liz! What do you think?” Maria’s voice cut through my preoccupied thoughts.

“Huh, sorry. Like what?” I stammered out. What was wrong with me?

Alex and Maria exchanged a quick look. Then Maria continued in her bubbly voice,

“I said, what do you think about the fact Alex lives with grandma Claudia?”

“He does? You do?” I said swinging my gaze sharply towards the man in question.

“Yeah. You remember I finished up my degree in Computers and Cryptology last December, right?”

Of course I remembered. I’d sent him a bottle of champagne and a dozen red roses. Alex Whitman, honors graduate, first in his class from MIT.

“Of course I remember Alex. If I recall, you really appreciated the bubbly!” I replied with a laugh much to Maria’s amusement.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up! That was a really, really good…” Alex cut himself off hastily no doubt seeing the quizzical looks on both mine and Maria’s faces. Never mind, we’d get Mister Whitman later.

“Anyway, so then I was kind of at a loss as to what to do, you know? I didn’t want to go back to school, or do any serious work or anything. So I figured, I’d come back to Roswell and hang out with Maria, maybe see the parents. Well, that’s when I met up with grandma Claudia. She was co-authoring a book and a part of the research was based at the Reservation. She needed a cryptographer I needed a place to live and something to do…”

“And, the rest as they say is history!” Maria finished his explanation theatrically.

“That is brilliant Alex! Wow. Wait so does that mean grandma’s bought a place here, or are you renting it, or what?” I asked, interested in the response.

Maybe this way I could spend time with grandma and not have to commute between Roswell and Albuquerque. That would mean getting a car, living with my parents and a whole host of issues that I’d sooner not deal with.

“House, house?” Maria asked incredulously. “Lizzie, it’s a ranch style castle!”

“A what?” I asked.

“It’s huge. It’s beautiful. It’s totally weird looking, you know, like something out of a movie. But it suits grandma totally. Oh and wait till you see your…”

“Maria!” Alex cut her off.

“What? I was just gonna say….oh!” Maria’s mouth widened into a perfect O.

“What, c’mon guys please, please, please, please!” I begged shamelessly. If that didn’t work the puppy eyes and some serious eyelash fluttering would definitely get the job done. I didn’t even bother trying it on Ria she’d perfected the art years ago. No, one Alex Whitman, sap extraordinaire was my target.

“Please, Alex, please. Pretty please….you know you want to tell me. You know how much I hate surprises. Besides, I know most of it anyway, please Alex, please!”

His hands tightened on the steering wheel, and before I could think GOTCHA! He turned his head to look at me and caved….gotcha!

“Fine. Anything but the eyes, please!” He rolled his own in good natured amusement.

“Grandma’s set up your room for you and everything. I think she wanted to have it ready for whenever you came home.” He finished gently. He probably thought just as I did that these were hardly ideal conditions for the prodigal to return.

“Great. I can’t wait to see it.” I said forcing a smile on my face.

“Hey now, none of that…you’ve got another fifteen minutes before we get there to hear everything about our very own Diva Deluca.” It was an obvious push to change the focus of the conversation and Maria supported him admirably.

“Chica, you won’t believe everything that’s happened since the last time we talked. So you know I went to New Orleans right, ‘cause if I want to be a jazz lounge singer, then the city of the blues is the place to be. By the way babe, you and me, yep we are definitely gonna be taking a trip down to sin city…whoo baby!” Maria cried out with obvious enthusiasm.

Yeah, I could see Maria as a singer in New Orleans. The smoky sultriness of the South and glamour of New Orleans suited her.

“So, I did my thing there and they LOVED me! Then I figured that I really do like Roswell and why not put it on the map. So then, I talked to your Dad and Michael, you remember Michael Guerin right? Tall, rude, obnoxious, walking hair disaster, terrible manners!” Maria recited a long list of characteristics that she’d obviously spent a lot of time in contact with.

“Umm, yeah, I think so. Spiky hair and an attitude, right?” My mind had a dim picture of this paragon of virtues and I had definitely hit the right note because Maria’s face lit up, just as Alex swallowed a chuckle.

“Babe, I knew there was a reason we were best friends! Spiky hair and an attitude! Classic. I’m gonna remember that one. Yeah, him. It turns out that underneath all that bad hair and attitude he’s also some sort of hotshot chef.”

Since I didn’t know how Maria wanted me to react to that bit of news, so I simply nodded my head and hoped that I had a suitably neutral expression on my face.

“So, it turns out your dad was looking for a partner to help run the CrashDown. Michael and I worked it out”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Alex muttered underneath his breath.

“and we went into a partnership with your dad. The CrashDown is now not only Roswell’s best eating joint, but on Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights it transforms into the CrashDown Bar and Lounge, presenting food by Roswell’s own Michael Guerin and…..”

“Drum rolls, please!” Alex quipped loudly.

“And, Roswell’s very own songbird returned from steamy New Orleans….Maria Deluca!”

“Oh Maria, that is brilliant. CONGRATULATIONS!” I shouted excited beyond words that Maria had finally gotten what she’d always wanted, her very own act. I was just about to scramble onto the backseat and hug her when Alex announced,

“We’re here!”

**********************************************

And there it was – the house. Or, a ranch-castle as Maria described it. It looked like something out of a fairy tale set in the west! It was nothing like anything I’d ever seen before. It screamed Grandma Claudia though.

My stunned reaction must have pleased both Alex and Ria because they were both laughing heartily by the time the jeep came to a stop. Alex must have seen the consternation on my face because he quickly jumped into speech,

“Maria and I figured that you’d be tired after your flight. So you might like to freshen up a little and drop off your bags before heading over to the hospital. What do you think?”

Mouth gaping, I turned to him only to be interrupted by Maria,

“C’mon Lizzie, you must be so tired and this will only take two minutes. Besides Alex here, can give you the grand tour. He lives for that stuff!”

“Why? Where are you going?” My gaze sharpened on her face.

“Chica, I have to run back to Roswell. I couldn’t get out of my act today, but I’m all yours from tomorrow onwards, ok. I am so sorry about it. I tried to get out of it, but Michael has some food critics and reviewers coming into town for the grand opening so I have to sing today.”

Something must have shown on my face, because she leaned over the headrest and placed her hands on my shoulders.

“Tell you what? As soon as I finish my set tonight, I’ll come over to the hospital. Now, how about you give me a big kiss and let Alex show you the place.” She finished comfortingly.

I nodded my head in assent and climbed out of the jeep. Maria climbed out after me and we hugged again. She promising to come see me tonight and I delighted that I was with her and Alex again.

“Bye Ria. Break a leg!” I called out after her, as she climbed into a neon green bug and zipped off, her hand sketching a two fingered wave.

“Milady, your bower awaits!” said Alex extending his arm with a courtly flourish and we began the trek to the front door.

**********************************************

When I say, that I’ve never seen anything like Claudia’s house, I am being completely serious. It was a large 2 story Spanish style structure. The veranda in front, wrapped around the entire house, Alex later told me. The door was a large stained glass and wood affair. The entire house was painted a pale fawn with hints of orange coming out in the shadows.

The door was dark brown and the stained glass panel ran down the middle. Done in shades of green, silver and blue the glass represented the symbols for earth, water and sky. It was an unusual design and I couldn’t help but admire my grandmother’s flights of fancy. Still, there was something about it.

Pushing open the front door, I was struck by the interior’s coolness and its relative darkness compared to the blazing sun outside. We were standing in a foyer with a cloak room on the right and a mirror on the left, for all the narcissists in the house to check themselves out before leaving the house, Alex quipped.

There were three steps at the end of the foyer, which lead into a large sunken lounge. The lounge was furnished with sofas and bean bags in rich earth colors. There was a coffee table, covered with magazines, and a sheaf of papers. It looked lived in and comfortable. Not something that I would imagine you could bring formal guests, but then grandma’s guests would probably be just as eccentric as she was.

There was a large entertainment center in one corner of the room, with floor cushions spread out in front of it. Bookcases lined two walls and at the other end of the room from where I was standing, tucked between the French windows overlooking the backyard and the slim winding staircase, was a small work table. Its spindly legs bending underneath the weight of the books and papers piled haphazardly on top it looked like somebody had been hard at work until very recently.

Alex pointed out the door on the left, hidden between the two book cases, which led to grandma Claudia’s bedroom and bathroom. The gallery on the right, he told me led to a large kitchen, complete with butcher block, tiles, copper pans and a small breakfast table.

“The kitchen is sort of the hang out spot. Whenever anyone is at home, or is looking for someone we always try the kitchen. Notes, food, ice cream, telephone calls…you name it, it takes place in the kitchen.” He joked. “Think of it as the Principia.”

When I found the time to explore the house more thoroughly in the following days, I realized that its nickname as the nerve-center wasn’t all that off.

“Shall we…” he gestured to the staircase.

“God, Alex! This house is just…” I broke my bemused silence.

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, honey!” He laughed at his best western twang.

And was he right. There was so much more.

The staircase wound up gracefully into a gallery that ran the circumference of the lounge below, offering an unimpeded view of the ground floor. There were three doors on this level. Half way around the gallery, the two bedroom doors stood on opposite ends facing each other. And the third bathroom door was in the same wall as the staircase.

The door on the left led to Alex’s bedroom, which he stopped me from seeing.

“Umm, yeah, not such a good idea, Liz.”

“C’mon, Alex when did you become shy? Besides I’ve seen stud Whitman in his tidy whities! It doesn’t get any more personal then that!” I said slyly as Alex blushed, a charming shade of red.

“Please, woman! Can’t you just forget that ever happened?” He said mournfully, covering his face.

“Nope!” I replied cheerfully.

“Well, it doesn’t matter. You can’t see my room.” He said firmly.

“Alex, please….”

“Fine! You can see it but LATER!” Alex replied shuffling me back to the staircase, which led to the third floor.

“Isn’t that my room?” I asked him pointing to the closed door on the right.

“Umm, no.” He stammered out.

There it was again, that look that he and Maria had shared earlier. I didn’t quite know what to make of it. Surely, Alex wouldn’t hide something from me?

“Is it the guest room?” I inquired innocently.

“No. Not really.” He said, increasingly uncomfortable.

“Well, then who’s is it?” I asked. “If you don’t tell me, I won’t budge from this spot, Alex!”

“Liz, please.”

Shaking my head, I just stood there, letting my lip poke out. Recognizing the age old signs of mulishness he just said,

“Grandma Claudia’s assistant lives there, ok?”

“Oh, then why didn’t you say so?” I asked moving towards the staircase. My eyes still fixed on the shut door.

“Because. I don’t know. Never mind.” After a pause, “your room is right up these stairs. Are you coming?”

“Huh, oh yeah. Lead that way.”

Another six steps later, we had reached the second floor landing. There was a big skylight in the ceiling, engraved with the same symbols as the front door. There were some windows around the gallery, with alcoves that held a small white candle each. Curious. The entire effect was rather like standing in an atrium, with light cascading in through all the windows. The view at night must be spectacular. Standing indoors but feeling like the sky and all the stars were a step and a touch away.

But it was the door at the end of the hallway which held my attention. Alex motioned for me to go ahead, and after quirking a quick eyebrow at him, I pushed it open.

It was the light and explosion of colors that hit me first, followed by the scent of roses. I gasped out loud, He was here. In this very room, He had been here. I was just about to cast out my emotions and thoughts, when it hit me…roses. That’s all it was.

There was no accompanying emotion. There was no love, no desire, and no desperate ceaseless want. There was none of the color of His emotions. There was no sense of the physicality of his being.

That’s all it was – roses.

Alex gave me a concerned glance when I stumbled to a stop, but I was enraptured. A bower, he had called it. And that is what it was. Like something out of A Midsummer Night’s Dream – fit for a queen.

The walls were a pale apple green, with ghostly silver scalloped edges. There was a dressing table and a small stool in one corner. In another corner, a set of small bookcases flanked a wall mounted desk. A beaded curtain, Maria’s inspiration no doubt, in royal blue and emerald green depicting three wavy lines separated the bedroom from the closet and the bathroom, which I later discovered held a bathtub big enough to seat two people comfortably. The bedroom also led into a balcony that offered a view of the backyard. Decorated with small white lights and sconces for candles it was obvious this room had been prepared for me with all the love in the world.

As I turned to look at Alex, to utter my breathless thanks for all the effort that must have gone into it, the bed caught my eye.

Standing, a little off-center, a confection of lace, canopies, and net, it frothed and swayed in all its pale blue and silver glory. I’ve never thought of myself as a very girly girl. But this bed…This bed made me think of fair princesses, and dark knights; dangerous dragons and thrilling quests. This bed made me think of long slow nights and languorous conversations, of hushed whispers and fervent declarations.

It made me flush to think of a fantasy lover who would sink into the promise this bed offered and take me with him.

It was Alex’s repeated coughing that snapped me out of my heated daydreams.

Eyes sparkling with delight, I turned to him and said breathlessly, “I love it! I love it, Alex! It is brilliant, and you and Ria and grandma are brilliant for doing all this work.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I squealed hugging him, missing the confused look that flashed across his face.

“Well, I can see that you’re feeling better,” he said hugging me back.

“Much. Now can we get my stuff, and go see grandma Claudia, please?”

“Sure.” He replied companionably.

**********************************************

Maria and he were right, I thought to myself while going down to the car. If I’d gone to the hospital straight from the airport, I would have fallen apart. And bursting into tears on seeing her for the first time in two years was not the way I wanted to go.

Preoccupied by my own thoughts and Alex’s bits of news, I didn’t see where I was walking and stumbled on the edge of the front door, just as it swung open. Before I could even gasp, or wince in pain for the inevitable header I would take, a pair of strong, tan arms caught me by my upper arms.

Alex, I thought, in relief. But no, not Alex, if it had been Alex, he would have caught me from the back. Besides, his arms didn’t look anything like these: tanned, large hands, strong forearms, and discretely muscled biceps attached to a pair of very nice shoulders. Very nice indeed! Nor was Alex wearing black loafers, pressed khakis with a perfect crease running down the middle or a white button down half-sleeved shirt.

Blinking my eyes against the sharp light, I looked up to utter my gratitude only to gasp out:

“Max? Max Evans?”

**********************************************

Sternbetrachter, extingman, and roswelluver: Thanks much. Hope you enjoy the next part.

youre my dream girl, Kruelmonster, and PhoenixFlamez: Welcome! Thank you for the feedback, it really made my day.

Cherie: I'm so glad you are coming along for the ride on this one I promise that it will be interesting, at the very least. LOL.

CzechysolovokianSlayer: Welcome! Hope you enjoy the new chapter. Umm, the house was made up...it sounded pretty good in my head, but pretty painful on privacy, I imagine!

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References: Shakespeare, Emily Dickinson, Austin Powers I


Chapter 3:



Comfort me, counsel me.
Romeo and Juliet, III, v


Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul…
Collected works of Emily Dickinson



Max? Max Evans? Oh god, could I have possible said that any louder, I thought blushing furiously. Great going, Liz! Way to be really smooth.

Max Evans. He was one of the few people I remembered from high school. Brainy, quiet, and soft spoken Max Evans was my lab partner during my AP science classes. I don’t think that we spoke more than half a dozen times during the entire time we spent together. And the few times that we did speak, it was to say something like, have you done the reading today? Or, could you please pass me the Bunsen burner, or something equally scintillating.

If Maria could hear me right now she’d laugh herself silly. She’d shake her head and say ‘only you Liz would forget the most important adjectives for Max Evans -- a serious A-grade hottie!

Well, she wasn’t that far off. And as far as I can tell, time has only helped his cause. Whereas in school he walked around with a compact shuffle, and hunched over with an almost painful desire to hide. Now he moved with an obviously fluid grace and excellent reflexes if his rescue of me was anything to go by. He had always been dark but the tan he was currently sporting and the flexed muscles gave him an almost indecent glow of health.

His hair still flopped over his forehead and curled a little into the collar of his shirt. It was a rich ebony color that shone in the sun longer than conventional it suited him. His mouth was still soft looking, introspective, its edge curling upwards. A dimple that had never been visible in high school was making an appearance in his cheek. His nose had a slight bump in it. It looked like it had been broken and then fixed. Not something a remembered from before.

But I forgot it all when I looked into his eyes.

They were the same in color and hue. Almond shaped, and large they were a rich amber and honey color. I had seen those eyes darken to pools of warm garnet when he was concentrating. I had seen them chill to a pale crystalline topaz when he was annoyed or angry. I had seen them glow a warm honey when he was happy. And that was the change in him. As difficult as it had been to read my lab partner’s moods, his face could have been carved out of wood and graced the prow of a boat, his eyes gave him away every single time. Like a blind person learning to read Braille, I had learned to read the silent Max Evans by his eyes.

However, in this very instant, they told me nothing. And, I felt marooned.

*************************************************************

It was his soft, “Hi Liz!” that broke my trance.

Startled, I wrenched myself out of his grip and cursed my skin which turned a deep crimson whenever I was embarrassed.

Abruptly straightening my clothes, I asked him, “What are you doing here?” only to wince at the sharp edge of my voice and the rudeness of the question.

I knew that Alex was staring at me in shock. I was never blatantly rude, which made me kick myself even more. But before I could stammer out an apology he replied his face devoid of expression but his voice laced with amusement.

“I live here.”

There it was again that soft voice, which seemed entirely self-assured. Not something I associated with the teenage Max Evans. Obviously more things had changed than I knew about.

Looking at him rather stupidly, I stumbled out, “But, I mean, umm you live here? But why?” I winced again. Talking issues much?!

A quick glance from beneath his thick lashes and he continued in a softer tone, “I thought Alex and Maria had told you?”

“Told me what?” I bit out.

I hate being surprised. And, Max Evans standing at my door step definitely qualified as a surprise.

“That, I’m Ms. Parker’s assistant.”

*************************************************************

I don’t quite remember what happened after that. I think the journey and the exhaustion caught up with me all of a sudden because I weaved a little, and Alex promptly dragged me to the sofa. After that all I could think of was that Maria and Alex had deliberately withheld the identity of grandma Claudia’s assistant from me. Max Evans was my house-mate and they hadn’t told me.

I know it sounds crazy. Why should something as insignificant as who my grandmother’s assistant was upset me -- but it did. It upset me a great deal. It reminded me of all the times in high school when Maria had badgered me to go out with people, had tried to set me up on blind dates. It reminded me of the fight we had in high school during our freshman year when she had been pushier than usual.

It had been about Max Evans and why…I couldn’t – wouldn’t date him.

**************************************************

(Flashback – Freshman Year in High School at Liz’s house)

“Max Evans was staring at you today. Again.” Maria said in her sing-song voice as she and Liz sprawled on Liz’s after their shift.

“Maria, please. He was not.” Liz said getting off the bed, and throwing off her alien head band. Ugh, these uniforms were just the worst, she grimaced to herself. As much as she loved her father, sometimes she just wished he didn’t fancy himself a designer.

“I am sure he has plenty of other things to do in his spare time. I noticed that you didn’t fail to get into an argument with Roswell’s favorite chef.” She teased Maria, closing her bedroom door before stripping off her uniform.

“Don’t even, Lizzie!” Maria called out, scowling ferociously.

That asshole cook needed to die! And if he called her anything else but by her given name tomorrow she would dump an entire Men in Blackberry Pie on his head. Better yet, I’ll smear ketchup and mayonnaise on a plate full of space rings and smash it in his face she continued warming to her theme. Vengeance shall be mine, and with that she burst out laughing, in her best Dr. Evil impersonation.

“Muahahahahahah!”

“Are you trying out that evil laugh thing, again?” Liz said pulling out a pair of jeans and green tank top from her closet.

“Maria, I love you, I really do – but you should just let Alex do that, ok? And now, I’m going to take a bath. This smell is really gross.”

“Never – I shall never admit defeat!” Maria replied quickly before getting up.

Tucking a wayward strand into her pony tail, she knocked on the bathroom door.

“Hey Liz! I’m coming in….” and with that she walked into the steam filled bathroom as Liz lay in the frothy tub soaking the day’s grime away.

Popping an eye open with some effort, she sighed, “Maria, I’m taking a bath. Can’t this wait?”

“No, Lizzie, it can’t. Don’t think I didn’t know what you were doing earlier.” Maria said making herself comfortable on the soft mat next to the tub.

“And, what exactly was I doing Maria?” Liz replied stirring some bubbles with her toe.

Really, the bath smelt and felt far too good to worry about Maria’s nagging. Besides, she was feeling far too relaxed to even push the whole boundary/personal space issue. Not that Ria would care, she thought to herself wryly.

She wondered whether He knew she was taking a bath immediately flushing from head to toe at the wayward thought. A quick look at Maria confirmed she hadn’t noticed anything. Whew!

I mean, they really hadn’t clarified what they were yet, Liz told herself. She knew He had felt really bad when she’d kissed rather she had let Kyle kiss her. And she had just felt so much guilt that there was no way she was going to do that again.

But still, what did He feel for her? They’d never even spoken about it. Well you haven’t told Him what you feel either, a small acerbic voice reminded her.

Oh, the handholding and the talks were nice, but surely there was more to it than that. Like when she’d worn her hipster jeans and a white gauzy blouse, that had splashes of glitter on it with her strappy sandals, she had wondered what He would think of her.

Would He like her clothes? Would He think she looked hot?

She had dressed to please herself because now and then it was nice to dress up and look pretty. But somewhere along the way she had discovered that deep down, where everything was still and silent what He thought mattered. The place in her abdomen where butterflies fluttered when she dreamt of Him and the secret corner of her heart that glowed when she thought of Him – there, right in those places, her pleasure and His intermingled until they were virtually indistinguishable. Their desires ran true.

In the secret places inside herself where her soul lived with His, she was sure they were one, intertwined, seamless, forever.

But of course, she’d never say something like that out loud. It sounded crazy. She’d hidden it from Him. He would think she was completely crazy – but what if He didn’t, the small treacherous voice whispered.

What if He feels the same way but is afraid, afraid of the very same things? What if the voice whispered slyly, at this very moment He is dreaming of you, imagining you? Or what if, He knows you are in this tub floating in rose and vanilla scented bubbles, the warm water lapping at your skin, oh so softly. What if He knows you drove your mother crazy trying to find the exact scent and had finally asked Mrs. Deluca to fashion something because nothing smelt right? What if He knew that even in His absence you want to be immersed in Him?

Changing its tenor, the voice asked: What if He can see you? What if He can feel you? What if He knows you? What if…

“Liz!” shouted Maria, her voice shattering Liz’s rapidly heating musings with a start.

“Have you heard a word I’ve said? What is wrong with you, chica? I’ve been trying to tell you…”

“Maria, please” Liz snapped uncomfortably aware of her body, the water and the bubbles surrounding her. She felt…

“Can you just give me that towel please? Whatever it is can wait once I’ve come out.”

“But,”

“Now, Maria!” Liz cut off all protestations with finality.




Once the door had shut behind Maria, she heaved a deep breath. The bathroom was warm and foggy. The overhead lights seemed dim and the water unusually quiet as it swirled down the drain.

Liz stood in front of the mirror staring at her reflection. She’d never really paid attention to her body before but right now she just felt antsy, uncomfortable, hyper aware of the scratchy weave of the towel. She shrugged it off. She just couldn’t bear anything to touch her right now except for…

She focused her attention on her face. Serious, intent dark brown eyes stared back at her. They really weren’t anything glorious. They weren’t deep or mysterious. They were just brown, drab and normal. Her nose was small and straight. Again it was very normal. It didn’t turn up at the end like Maria’s did, nor was it straight and fine like her mother’s. Moving on, she sighed. Focusing on her lips – they were neither large nor small, neither thick nor thin, not a kissable red either, just lips, used for shaping words, sucking on a straw, nothing earth shattering. Her hair was the same color as her eyes, dark, brown and depressingly straight. Yes, it was thick. Yes, it was shiny and pretty soon she’d be able to sit on it but it wasn’t blonde, or auburn. It didn’t have fun curls, or volume, or anything. It was all infinitely depressing.

And her body, well let’s face it Ursula Andress she was not, nor was she liable to win any wet-t-shirt contests unless she woke up with breasts tomorrow, she thought giggling. Her breasts were small, and well, small was the only thing that could be said. Maria had said they were perky, which had embarrassed her horribly. But Maria was probably just being nice so that was that. She did have nice shoulders. The occasional summer job life-guarding at the kiddy pool had helped out there. There was a neat indent where her waist met her hips – but everybody probably had that. Her hips swelled out gently leading to an okay butt, she thought looking over her shoulder critically. Her legs were okay too as were her feet.

A completely unremarkable package, she sighed out loud. Perhaps it was just as well she had kept her crazy fantasies to herself. A phantom boyfriend who couldn’t see her ordinariness and utter brown-ness was perhaps the best kind, she thought making faces at herself. Who knew, maybe someday she wouldn’t be so ordinary but until then, until then she’d be damn careful not to let Him catch a glimpse of what she looked like.

And with that decision made, she quickly pulled on her clothes and went outside where Hurricane Deluca had reached a gale-force of 7!




Maria had been pacing the room for a while now. Thinking and re-thinking her arguments, there was just no way, Liz was going to distract her from this conversation. They were absolutely going to talk about Lizzie’s lack of self-esteem and her puritanical avoidance of anything to do with boys, kissing or anything, Maria huffed.

Yes, today was the day, and I don’t care if Liz gets upset. As her friend it is my duty to talk to her about these things. God, anyone would think she had scales or warts on her body or something the way she hid from all the boys in school! Not to mention, even Mr. and Mrs. Parker were worried that she didn’t get out that much. The last straw was the fact that she’d steadfastly refused to go out with Kyle Valenti after their first date.

Kyle Valenti. Super jock, captain of every friggin’ letter team on the planet, and she had said No!

What was wrong with that girl? Yes, Kyle wasn’t the smartest person in school, but he was cute, and Maria knew for a fact that he was a great kisser. What? She wasn’t just going to let Liz date some guy who turned out to be a slobbery octopus – please. Anyway, so he had the three things going in his favor: he wanted to date Liz (which in Maria’s estimation showed his obvious intelligence and appreciation for beauty), he was a good kisser, and finally he was one of the certified nice guy hottie’s in school. It was an ideal set up. And what does Liz do? Liz tells him she can’t date him again. And he, lovelorn fool that he was accepted it, and still wanted to be friends. Bah. What rubbish, thought Maria practically foaming at the mouth.




“Yes, Liz. The time has definitely come to have The Talk with you!” Maria spoke out aloud.

“What talk?” asked Liz stepping out of the bathroom, causing Maria to whirl around her hand clasped to her chest.

“God Liz, make some noise. You nearly gave me a heart attack!” Maria breathed out.

Taking a deep breath, she said: “Liz, babe, you and I are going to talk without interruptions. So you need to sit down and we are not going to stop talking until we get to the bottom of this, ok?”

“Umm, Ria that’s fine. But what are we talking about?” Liz asked settling herself firmly on the bed, Indian style. “Could you please hand me my hairbrush.”

“Here,” Maria tossed Liz the hairbrush then continued to pace along the room. Coming to a decision of some sort, she stopped in the middle of the room, nodded to herself twice and dragging a chair from Liz’s desk sat facing her.

“Ok, chica. Now I am going to ask you some questions and I want to know what is going on with you. Just tell me the truth, ok. I’m your best friend, I love you and someday, someday you are gonna thank me for this.”

“Right,” Maria continued ticking off the questions and issues on her fingers.

“First of all: Do you like Kyle Valenti?”

“Umm,”

“Just answer yes or no, please Liz. When we get to the longer answers I’ll tell you, ok?”

“Yeah, ok. Kyle is nice.” Liz said hesitantly unsure as to where this was going.

“Two: Did you enjoy your date with him?”

“Yes.”

“Three: Did he ask you to go out with him again?”

“Yes.”

“Four: What did you say?”

“No,” Liz answered a little hesitatingly, she had an inkling of where this was going. Not someplace she wanted to go but it was too late to head off Maria.

“Five: Have Tom from the soccer team, Keith from the tennis team, Jamie from the debate team, Harry from the Drama club and Mathew the class Vice-President asked you out on dates in the past two weeks?”

“I, but…”

“Please, Liz, yes or no, only.” Maria repeated clearly.

“Yes, they did. But…” before Liz could complete her sentence Maria threw her hands up in the air, and abandoning the list completely said:

“The why did you say no to all of them, Liz? You realize they are all some of the nicest and cute guys in school? Do you realize that there are girls who would DIE to be in your place right now? They don’t have any communicable diseases. They don’t have any crazy exes. They have never in any universe dated Pam Troy and they obviously seem to like you then please tell me why the HELL you turned all of them down!” Maria ranted.

Her plan to be calm and logical flew out the window. Fuck that! This was Liz, her best friend, there was no fucking way she was going to let this go. She and Alex had talked about it a lot and the time had come for an intervention. This was unacceptable. Her girlfriend was not going to remain single and alone during high school while the whole universe of tramps and sluts got the cute guys. Over my…wait! ‘Cute Guys.’ ‘Guys.’ Maybe that was the problem.

Could it be though? Could that be the problem? But wouldn’t she have known? Of course she would have…unless, yes unless, Maria’s brain churned. Unless she’s still hiding it, unless she has a crush on someone and doesn’t want to tell me. Could it be that Lizzie liked girls? Maria thought giving the idea some serious consideration while looking at Liz speculatively.

“No, its ok Lizzie, scratch that. I’m being totally crazy. Although why you didn’t tell me I’ll never know. We are supposed to be best friends. You can tell me anything, chica. You know that right?” Maria burst out her thoughts awhirl.

“Maria, what are you talking about?” Liz asked completely bewildered by the change in tone and conversation.

“What am I talking about? What am I talking about?” Maria asked incredulously. Pushing off the chair with a sudden clatter, she rambled on.

“What do you mean what am I talking about? Surely, the question at this point is Liz, why didn’t you tell me? Are you ashamed is that what it is? Honey, there’s nothing wrong with it. I mean, really it’s not like we live in the dark ages.”

“Maria,” Liz shouted to break through her friend’s incessant chatter. “I repeat, what the HELL are you talking about?”

“You’re still in denial,” she exclaimed going to sit by Liz. “Lizzie, babe, chica, no matter what your choices in life I’ve always got your back. You could have told me.”

“Maria, if you don’t tell me right now what you are babbling about I swear to god, I will kick your ass off this bed and out of my room!” Liz said firmly pushing Maria away.

Shaking her head, as though talking to a somewhat dimwitted child Maria said softly:

“I know that you’re gay, Lizzie.”

“What?” Liz said completely bemused by Maria’s answer and then she burst out laughing.

“You ARE in denial! I knew it!” Maria exclaimed as her best-friend rolled off the bed and landed on the floor with a thump because she was laughing so hard.

“Maria…” Liz tried to speak before peals of laughter escaped her.

“Lizzie, this is not funny.” Maria shouted. She was seriously worried for Lizzie’s mental well-being. Damn, I knew I should have called Alex, Maria thought to herself, biting her lips in consternation as a fresh bout of hilarity consumed Liz.

Taking a deep breath, Liz counted to five in her head. When she was sure she wouldn’t start laughing again she spoke calmly:

“Ria, I am not gay. A perfectly valid life-choice, but not one that I … I’m not gay.”

“You’re not? You’re sure?” Maria raised an eyebrow at her pink cheeked friend.

“Yes, Maria. I am sure.” Liz replied climbing back on the bed.

“OK, well chica then what is your explanantion?” Maria ground out, her earlier concern reappearing.

“Explanation for what?” Liz asked her eyes widening innocently.

“Don’t even start with me, Lizzie. I asked you a question and you better tell me what the answer is because if you don’t then the next time, oh yes,” seeing Liz’s horrified expression, “oh, yes there will be a next time. And, it will be much worse. Think me and Alex asking you questions in public…think the middle of the quad!” Maria replied smugly.

“You wouldn’t!” An alarmed Liz blurted out.

Maria simply scooted back on the bed and said nothing.

“Fine,” her quarry said ungraciously.

Rubbing her hands gleefully Maria replied, “OK chica. You know what? It doesn’t matter that you said no to all those guys. What are you going to do about Max Evans?”

Startled at the mention of her lab partner’s name Liz asked, “What does he have to do with anything?”

Sighing at her friend’s obliviousness, Maria spoke “Only that he comes into the CrashDown all the time…and before you say it, it is NOT for the food. The boy is single handedly responsible for keeping the family in business, Lizzie!”

“Besides,” she continued chuckling “he blushes every time you ask him something!”

“He does not. Maria please!” Liz said abruptly getting increasingly uncomfortable with the conversation. She sooo didn’t want to talk about this right now. Besides Max Evans was the harmless shy type. Kinda dorky. She totally didn’t feel that way about him.

“He does too.” Maria insisted mutinously. “Anyway, Alex and I think you and moon-doggie would be perfect for each other.” Maria continued warming to her theme.

“Maria, no!” Liz replied frazzled at the amount of thought Maria had put into the idea of her and Max Evans. It just sounded wrong. Besides she already had a boyfr…person. She had her person. There would be NO dating of Max Evans or anyone else.

“Liz, why? He is hot, brainy, polite, and sweet. He has a car. And I don’t know anyone who he talks to as much as he talks to you.”

“Maria, we are lab partners. We have to talk.” Liz ground out her uncertain temper fraying even further. Besides, Maria was prone to exaggeration.

“I know…you could go to the big game on Saturday with him.” Maria exclaimed enthusiastically ignoring Liz’s glares.

“Let’s see what you have in your closet.”

Rapidly losing control of the situation and feeling fragile with the state of her ‘relationship,’ if it could be called that, Liz shouted, “No Maria!” And slammed the closet door shut.

The silence that followed was deafening. Looking up she saw Maria’s green eyes filled with anger at her stubbornness and shone with tears at her rudeness. She wouldn’t give in, she wouldn’t Liz counseled herself. Yes, she had been a little abrupt but that was so Maria would understand that she meant what she said.

When the silence continued Liz’s rationalization’s ended abruptly. She hated fighting with people and especially with her friends.

“Maria, please” she said softly.

A sniff and then Maria turned away. Methodically putting away her uniform in her back pack she zipped it up and reached into her pockets for her car keys.

“Ria, please?” Did her shoulders soften slightly?

But Maria quickly straightened and resolutely headed for the bedroom door. Before she could open it, Liz placed a small hand on her shoulder and said,

“Ria will you just listen to me? Please? I hate it when we fight. Please, Ria?”

Turning, arms crossed at her chest, Maria spoke clearly, “I have to be home in twenty minutes.”

When she didn’t move from in front of the door, Liz sighed resignedly and began speaking softly.

“Ria, I love you. You know I do. You are my best friend and I know that you care about me, and you want me to be happy.”

Maria gave a quick nod, and Liz took heart.

“I’ve always told you everything. There are no secrets between us but I can’t talk to you about this Ria. I can’t talk to anyone. Please try to understand. It isn’t just my secret. Ohhh,” sighing in frustration Liz continued haltingly.

“No, it’s not a secret. It’s, it’s this gift that I, that someone has given me. And, the conditions of the gift are that we, neither of us, can talk about it before the other…no, not before the other…Umm, we can’t talk about it without each other’s full knowledge and consent.”

Seeing Maria open her mouth, she continued hurriedly. “I know what you’re going to say. You want to know why we can’t talk it over and tell you.”

Focusing her gaze on Maria’s face, Liz said intently, determined to get this out while she had the courage. “We can’t, I can’t tell you because the time isn’t right.”

Muttering under her breath, “We haven’t told each other, either.”

“What do you mean, the time isn’t right?” Maria asked curiously sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I can’t tell you anymore then that Ria. I just can’t. The only reason that I told you even this much was so you could know why I can’t date anyone and certainly not Max Evans.” Liz rushed out watching Maria’s expression carefully.

She had accepted her companion as a given. But never before had she been forced to talk about Him or what they shared. For the first time in her life, Liz realized that the joy of knowing Him could conflict with other relationships in her life. At the same time she knew, that if today’s conversation was a harbinger of who she would choose, then the decision was already made.

Not showing any of the tumult taking place inside; Liz sat beside Maria and waited.

Reaching out, Maria covered Liz’s hand with her own and spoke softly.

“Ok, Liz. Fine. I don’t like it, I don’t even have to agree or believe it but if you do then…” sighing “then we won’t talk about it. However, this is by no means over. Capiche?”


(End flashback)

*************************************************************

“Lizzie?”

“Hmmm,” opening my eyes I looked up to see a concerned Alex kneeling in front of me holding a steaming mug in his hand.

“Hey there, how are you feeling?” He asked his face serious.

“Fine. I’m fine.” I replied.

Seeing that he still looked concerned, I touched his arm gently and said,

“Really, Alex. I promise.”

A swift nod, then unwinding himself gracefully he sat next to me on the sofa.

“Here, this tea is for you. It has lemon and honey in it.”

Before I could comment he continued, “Maria swears by it. You have to drink it if you want me to let you out of the house.”

I nodded my acquiescence and leaning into Alex’s familiar warmth started sipping the hot liquid slowly.

“Where’s my stuff?”

“Max and I put it in your room.” He replied.

Turning his head to look at me, one hand stroking my hair, he spoke softly, “Liz?”

“Hmmm.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you about Max.”

Alex rolled his shoulders a sure sign that he was upset. Then, “I…we couldn’t figure out how to tell you. We didn’t want to just spring it on you. He wasn’t even supposed to be here. But what with everything that’s happened we just never found the right time to tell you. I’m sorry.”

Stalling my protests, he continued even more softly than before, “We didn’t want you to think that it was the same as…before.” And in that moment I knew that Maria had told him of our fight. It also explained why he had never broached the topic.

Putting the tea down, I pressed my face into his shoulder and said “It’s ok Alex. I know. Don’t worry about it.”

“Really?” He asked unsure of my reaction.

“Yes, really.” I looked into his eyes, assuring him of my sincerity.

Just then, Max walked into the room from the kitchen carrying a phone. He’d changed into soft blue jeans and a green t-shirt, which led me to wonder how long I’d been out of it.

“Alex, it’s for you,” gesturing towards the phone in his hand.

“Yeah, ok. Thanks.” Taking the phone from him, Alex moved away.

Without any hint of embarrassment or awkwardness Max sat down on a bean bag opposite me.

“Have you had a chance to talk to your parents yet?” He asked.

“Umm, no, not yet.” I replied sitting up a little straighter.

“They usually come to the hospital in the evening. I’m sure you’ll meet them there.”

“Oh. Thanks. Umm, do you know what the visiting hours are?” I asked.

“Yeah, 1-2:30 then 4-5. They’re not too long because the Doctors don’t want her to over exert herself.”

Looking down at his watch, he continued, “It’s 1:30 right now, if we hurry we can make it there a little after 2.”

Then looking up at me he offered, “I’ll be going over soon. Would you like to come with me?”

“I…” I started but before I could politely decline, Alex returned scowling.

“What’s up?” Max asked as I shifted in my seat.

“Stupid idiots at the lab have screwed up the tests,” his scowl grew even darker. “I’m so sorry Lizzie, but I’ll have to run over there. Would you mind if Max took you to the hospital?”

He’d been upset earlier and was angry now, wanting to make him feel a little better, I said “Sure.”

Turning to Max he asked, “Max?”

“We were just discussing it,” replied the man in question. “Do you have the keys?”

“Yeah, here,” tossing them to him Alex turned to me and mouthed, ‘are you ok?’

I nodded quickly before collecting my purse from the table and heading towards the front door.

“Do you need a ride to the lab, man?” Max asked.

“No, I have to put my stuff together. I’ll just get someone to come pick me up,” Alex threw over his shoulder, already striding toward the staircase.

*************************************************************

Reaching around me, Max deftly opened the front door and ushered me out. Following me he locked the door and walked swiftly towards the SUV. Unlocking the passenger side door he opened it and waited for me to settle in before heading over to the driver’s side.

After locking the doors, he looked at me for a full minute before saying sincerely, “She’s a brave lady. I’m sorry you had to come to Roswell under these conditions.”

*************************************************************

Thank you for the fabulous feedback and interest everyone. As soon as I get a moment to sit down and breathe, I promise to try to ans. your questions. In the meantime, keep it coming! LOL

Apologies for the delay. Here are two parts to make up for it. Happy Holidays!
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References: Walter de la Mare


Chapter 4


And some win peace who spend
The skill of words to sweeten despair
The Riddlers



The drive to the hospital was mostly silent. A lot of things had changed, but now just as then, no one could ever accuse Max Evans of being overly chatty. Or even, talkative at that!

“So,” I asked once we were a little way from home, “how long have you been working for my grandmother?”

“A little over a year and a half.”

For a moment I thought that was the end of the conversation and I frantically began searching for some other inoffensive topic. But then he continued.

“I was at odd ends. She needed a researcher/assistant. It was fortuitous.”

As an answer it gave me exactly the information I had asked for, but it lacked something by way of … anything. There was no way to continue that topic without making it seem like prying so I mumbled vaguely and turned my head to look out the window.

The silence gave me time to organize my thoughts. While not very comfortable, it gave me the space I needed to plan out my first meeting with grandma Claudia in two years. The last time I had seen her, God the last time I had seen had been so wonderful. Great going Liz, I muttered irritated with myself. Thinking about our conditions then and now weren’t going to do me any good, if anything they were depressing me even more. Not the most suitable frame of mind for meeting someone at the hospital.

Snapping to attention I realized that the car had stopped and Max was patiently waiting by my door.

“Oh, sorry. Mind was wandering.” I muttered to him as I slid out of the car.

Nodding, he ushered me to the hospital doors and led me to the nearest elevator. We went to the sixth floor and turned right when the elevator doors opened. Her room was on the same floor as the ICU. If Max felt me falter or hesitate he gave no indication of it as his long strides ate the distance to the nurse’s station.

“Hi Julia!” He called out smiling to the strawberry blonde sitting at the nurse’s station.

“Max, hey! Can you just give me a second?” She replied looking up from the computer.

“Yeah, sure.” He replied, helping himself to the small jar of peppermints sitting on the counter looking very much at home.

“Ok, all yours.” Julia said a few minutes later, getting up from the computer.

“These are really good,” Max said, before pointing to me, “This is Claudia’s granddaughter, Elizabeth Parker. Could you add her to the visitor’s list, please?”

“Of course,” she replied scribbling my name in a log book, before walking around the counter toward me, “Hi Elizabeth. It’s good to finally meet you. Your grandma talks about you a lot. Her room’s this way, follow me.”

We walked swiftly down toward the end of the corridor. Stopping in front of Room 600, Julia spoke, “Here we are. I’ll just go in with you for a second, Elizabeth. I just need to check her charts real quick. Is that ok?”

“Please call me Liz,” I said to her softly before asking, “How is she doing?”

“She’s doing well. Nothing to worry about. Really.” Julia replied with unimpaired cheerfulness. And I wondered if one of the criteria for being selected as a nurse was to be impressively happy under adverse conditions.

She was opening the door when I realized that Max wasn’t standing beside me anymore. Turning around, I saw him sitting on a chair along the wall.

“Aren’t you coming?”

He replied casually, “Why don’t you go in first? I’ll be along in a bit.”

Biting my lip I turned around and faced the door. Behind that door lay the person who meant the most to me in the world, the person who had supported my every dream and aspiration. Straightening my shoulders, I smoothed my hair back and walked into room 600.

************************************************************

I’ve always wondered why hospitals smell so sterile. Why they are so white and colorless.

They smell cold and look detached. No matter what kind of a hospital it is, where it is, or what section you are in: each and every one smells and looks the same. It’s a smell that makes me sick to my stomach. It reminds me of being alone and of being unhappy, of being unloved and unwanted. Sometimes, I think, hospital staff is so depressingly cheerful because their surroundings are so awful. It’s a coping mechanism or they’d go mad.

Looking at my vital grandmother laying in a white hospital bed, looking frail and old, the smell hit me with the force of a sledgehammer. The smell of life ebbing and the knowledge that there was nothing I could do about it.

I didn’t even realize we were alone until I heard the door click softly behind the nurse.

“Lizzie?” her voice rose weak and faint over the whirr of hospital machinery.

“Nana,” I replied reverting to the childhood name.

I was moving to sit on the chair next to the bed, when her hand patted the space next to her stopping mid-gesture as if her strength had failed her.

I suppose it was that gesture, which broke me. I sat on the bed next to her, laid my head on her breast and started crying.

*************************************************************

Her soothing motions on my back forced me to raise my red-rimmed and splotchy face. Scrubbing away at my face furiously, I said tremulously, “Ugh, I must look so awful. And here I’d promised myself that I wouldn’t cry when I saw you.”

“Honey bear, there’s nothing wrong with crying. If you could only see what I see.”

Trying to gain control of my seesawing emotions I said, “Daddy called me yesterday. I took the first flight out. Alex and Maria picked me up from the airport. They said they’d come by later to see you.”

“They come every day,” she spoke softly through her careful breathing. “Have you seen your parents?”

“No, not yet. I wanted to see you first. Max said that they come in the evening, I’ll meet them then.”

“Max?”

“Yes, he’s here. Do you want me to call him?” I asked, hoping she would say no.

I know it sounds selfish, but I didn’t want her to call for anyone but me. I didn’t want her to think of anyone but me. They’d all had so much time with her…and I’d, I had lost out.

“No, Lizzie. Why would I want anyone else, when you’re here?” She spoke lovingly, her eyes on my face, focusing through the haze of sleep and the pain medication.

“I’m sorry nana! I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?” I accused.

“I’m old,” she started to say just as I exclaimed,

“NO!”

“Darling,” her reproach filled voice replied, “I’m old. These things happen when people get old.”

Taking in a long breath, her chest quivering under the weight of it, she continued.

“I’m glad you’re here Lizzie, I have so much to tell you.”

“I know nana. I have a lot to tell you as well,” I replied trying to ease the conversation.

She was looking tired.

“No, Lizzie,” she responded surprisingly firmly before coughing loudly. It was a long serrated sound.

“Nana, please, you’re tired. Just rest for a minute. I’m going to be right here.” I pleaded with her, concern making my voice hoarse.

“Plenty of time to rest, later.” She coughed out. “This is important,” clutching my hand tighter. “You remember, Liz?”

“Remember what nana?” I asked putting my hand over hers. It felt so frail.

“What I said? The question?” Her voice struggling against the faintness of breath to make itself heard.

“I remember everything you tell me nana.” I said quietly responding to her obvious tiredness, to ease her mind as she drifted.

“Good,” she sighed. “Remember, Lizzie…it’s important. So tired,” her eyes fluttering shut.

I held her hand, as she drifted into sleep, as her breathing smoothed and her grip on my hand eased. I kissed her forehead, and sat next to her, listening to her heartbeat.

I didn’t move until the nurse came to get me, saying that visiting hours were over.

************************************************************

I came out to find Max in the same place and position I’d left him in. As I sat next to him, he reached beside him and handed me a styrofoam cup.

“Careful it’s hot. Coffee.” He said economically. Smiling faintly in gratitude, I took a long sip and realized how thirsty and tired I was.

Looking at me carefully, he got up and said, “Maria is here. She brought food with her, I’d hold out for that. Your parents are talking to the doctors. They got here a little while ago.”

Startled, I said, “What time is it?”

“4:00. Julia thought you might need some time,” he replied before walking away.

4:00, I thought incredulously doing some quick math in my head. We had gotten here around 2. I had sat with my grandmother for two hours. It had seemed only a fraction of that time.

“Liz,” my father’s voice broke through my thoughts.

“Daddy! Mum!” I cried out putting down the cup before rushing headlong into his arms.

“Honey, we were so worried, when you didn’t call,” that was my mother.

“I’m sorry. I was just so…” I stammered out.

“Don’t worry about it.” Dad comforted me. “Alex called us when you left the house. And Max just called us a little while ago.”

“Max called?” I asked bewildered.

“Yes,” my mother fielded that one her arm around me shoulders as we moved toward the seating area. “He let us know that the doctors thought she should get some rest today. All the excitement isn’t so good for her.”

“What does that mean?” Maria asked approaching from the side, holding a straw bag in her hand.

“Just that, they let Lizzie sit with her after visiting hours, so now we can see her tomorrow.” My father replied as Maria set the bag down on the table next to me.

“Ok,” Maria replied equably. “Lizzie, you have to eat this sandwich. The boys said you haven’t eaten anything all day,” she said handing me a large chicken salad sandwich.

“Maria, I can’t.” I protested feebly. Just the thought of food was making my stomach churn.

“You haven’t eaten all day?” my mother questioned. “You know how sick you get when you don’t eat.”

“No, but I still can’t eat all that.” I said staring at the six inch sandwich in my hand as though it would bite me back.

“Eat as much as you can.” Maria replied, before looking around.

“Who are you looking for?” I asked chewing a small piece slowly.

“Max,” she said spotting him coming down the hallway. “He hasn’t eaten either.” Sandwich in hand she walked toward the nurse’s station where he was standing talking to the nurse from before. What was her name, I thought about it briefly before abandoning it as too much effort.

“Honey, how much time do you have off?” Daddy asked, always the planner.

“Well, my accumulated paid leave is around 6 months. I’ll talk to them about extending it, in a few days.” I said washing down another mouthful of the sandwich with coffee. 6 more bites and then I could put it down without attracting too much attention, I promised myself grimly.

“Have you thought about where you’ll be staying?” daddy asked hopefully.

“Umm,” this could be tricky, thinking quickly I tried to think of a compromise. “I was hoping to spend some time at grandma’s house. She’s set up my room and it will be easier to come to the hospital everyday.”

Seeing the hurt look on my mother’s face, I continued quickly, “I was thinking of coming home over the weekend. Is that ok?”

“Of course, honey. We know you’re worried about your grandmother. So whatever you decide will be fine with us. Right, Nancy?”

“Yes, that’s fine.” My mother replied twisting her fingers. “Jeff, it’s getting late. We should head back.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow, Lizzie.” My father said standing up and hugging me.

“It’s good to have you home, honey,” said my mother kissing my cheek.

Picking up her purse, they walked together to the nurse’s station where Max and Maria were standing. Stopping to say their farewells, I saw my mother jerk her head in my direction as both Maria and Max nodded. Looking at me one last time, my parents left the hospital as I sat in my plastic chair wondering what to do next. The momentum of the day had carried me this far but now, I just felt lifeless and drained. Standing up with effort, I tossed my half eaten sandwich in the waste bin and headed towards Maria.

Thanking the nurse on duty, I asked Maria if we could go home. Maria had brought her car with her and it was parked right in front. Before I could thank Max for bringing me to the hospital and for letting me sit with my grandmother, he tossed a quick wave and a ‘see you at dinner,’ in my direction before jogging off in the direction of his car.

Waves of tiredness swept over me. Keeping my eyes open seemed like such an effort that I thought I’d rest them for a second or two. Maria later told me that I’d fallen asleep before she had even started the car to head home.

************************************************************

“Maria,” “Yeah,” she replied.

We were both sitting on the swing on the back porch. It was evening and everything was still and silent, gilded in the waning light. The day was ending with a hush that soothed my jangled nerves, helping me regain my equilibrium. This close to the desert, the light was purer, clearer. Motes of dust flickered in the air, like a gold speckled filter creating a soft-focus dream-like reality.

I’d missed the desert.

I waited a moment, before changing my question. “How was your day?”

Pulling my feet into her lap, she leaned her head back and said, “It was fine. Those people I was telling you about earlier,”

“mmm” it felt so good to have her rub my feet. I had just woken up and was still drained from my meeting with nana.

“They came and liked everything. I think the lounge will be a big hit,” she finished. A grin lighting up her face.

“Of course it will. You are Maria Deluca and you are fabulous are you not?” I teased repeating her mantra.

A gurgle of laughter echoed, then “Yes, yes, I am quite fabulous.”

“Lizzie,” she began tentatively her hands stilling on my feet.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about…you know. It was just…I didn’t want you to think. It doesn’t mean anything,” she rushed out.

Turning my head to look at her, I could tell she was worried about my reaction. Not to mention her jumbled sentence had been a dead giveaway that she was afraid of upsetting me. Sighing a little, I tried to calm her.

“Ria, it’s ok. Alex told me. Don’t worry about it.”

The quick hopeful light on her face dimmed a little when I finished. She still looked uncertain. I suppose, she must have remembered our fight just as clearly as I did. Even though we’d mended our fences that day, it took some time before things were back to normal. Even then, we both knew that there was a part of my life that I wouldn’t share with her and that would always remain between us.

Trying to assuage her concerns, I asked, “When did Max Evans get here? I mean, how did he meet grandma?” Seeing her lips turn up at the corners, “What?”

“Nothing,” she replied her smile growing. “Do you know you’ve always called him ‘Max Evans’? You never refer to him by his first name.”

“Really?” I hadn’t really thought about it. He just seemed like a full name kind of person so that’s what I called him. Not to mention I didn’t spend any time thinking about him at all. I told Maria the first part, omitting the second. They seemed like good friends there was no need to bring my…whatever.

“Anyway, so do you know?” I prodded her.

Moving to sit cross-legged, her favorite story telling pose, she resumed rubbing my feet before saying, “Well, I know he started about a year and half go. I think he went to Columbia after high school. I think he said something about having family in New York.” Her expression turned grim.

“Wasn’t he adopted?” I asked curious about this development. Everyone in Roswell knew the story of the Evans adopting two children who had been found wandering on the side of the road. It must have taken courage to look for his birth family when they had been so cruelly abandoned. I said as much to Maria.

“Yeah, I suppose,” Maria pursed her lips.

“Did he find them, ok? I mean, they had abandoned them – he has a sister right?” I wondered aloud.

“He didn’t seem to keen on them. I think he said something about them being very different from him and Isabelle and that sometimes it was better to not know your past. He doesn’t really talk about it much.” Maria’s voice was dripping with indignation and disgust on his behalf. I couldn’t help but agree with her.

“Yeah, must have been rough,” I murmured wondering what kind of people would abandon two children. That just seemed brutal. If they didn’t want children then they shouldn’t have had any.

Dismissing Max Evans’ culpable family from her mind, Maria continued. “Anyway, he did something in Archeology and History there, or was it Astronomy?”

Shaking her head, she continued, “I’m pretty sure it was two of those three. Turns out he was pretty bright, you know? He met grandma Claudia in Roswell, she’d read a paper of his or something…anyway seems he was interested in the same kind of work so she offered him a job and well, that’s pretty much it. He got pretty lucky.”

“Yes, fortuitous,” I unconsciously echoed the words he’d said to me this morning. A part of me wondered why he’d bother to come back to Roswell if he had already published a paper and had graduated from Columbia.

“You know something weird though,” Maria continued puzzled, “grandma Claudia mentioned something about meeting him before. Did you ever introduce him to her in school?”

“Me? No, I didn’t even know him.” I replied reflexively. “Wait, she’s met him before?”

“Yeah, I’m not sure though. Maybe it was when…” whatever she was going to say next was lost in Alex’s enthusiastic,

“How are my girls! How did it go Lizzie?”

*************************************************************

Dinner was a quiet affair. We ate Chinese take out in the kitchen out of cardboard containers. The three of them carried on an undemanding conversation, about their respective days, which included me but didn’t expect any responses. It suited me fine.

I excused myself after dinner calling out goodnight. Maria said she’d be up in another few hours. Alex hugged me goodnight and said it was the weekend so he was going to be at home tomorrow. Max just nodded and smiled politely.

I lay in my darkened fairy-tale room and thought of my grandmother, my parents and my friends. I thought of all the people whose lives were intertwined with mine. All the people who I knew, loved and trusted, had been there for me today. Except … except for the one who mattered the most.

He had promised me He would be there, that I would never be alone. Lying in the dark room, in my first night in Roswell, utterly bereft I deluged him with my grief, my memories and the fear that this was the last time I would see my nana. My soul unfurled across the flickering ties that linked us to each other and softly, incessantly called to him in search of hope, in search of love…

“Lover, lover, are you there?” I cried out soundlessly tasting the lone tear rolling down my face.

“Please…oh, please.”

*************************************************************

References: Rhina Espaillat


Chapter 5:


What bird it was that sang me through the cold
I know…. Then in failing light,
it sang out my need, and never grieved
at all, driven to daring, unresigned;
it sang to me promises, and I believed,
though evidence was slight and hard to find.
Sequel, i-viii



The air smelt unbearably sad and sharp: frankincense and myrrh, memory and grief. It prickled across my skin. It warmed my face, like a gentle hand easing away the memories of grief.

“Hi,” He whispered in my mind.

“Where were you?” I asked Him, unable to keep the tears out of my voice.

“You were upset,” He said, as though that answered my question. And I suppose in a way it did. He had kept away because…

“I needed you.” I said, unable to finish my last thought.

“I’m always with you,” He soothed, knowing that I would ask Him again, knowing that I needed to hear Him say it.

“Why didn’t you come?” I asked insistently.

“You needed to cry. I knew that.” Then softer still, His voice thick with suppressed anxiety, “sweetness, you were so very upset. You hate crying in front of me, even more than you hate crying.”

He was right. We had had this conversation before. I had been crying then too, and had slammed the door on Him. He had been hurt but I told Him in no uncertain terms, that if He should ever find me crying He was to leave me completely alone. He’d been stunned that I’d shut him out like that. If we were forever, in everything for always, then why? And I hadn’t been able to explain why.

In some ways, it was for the same reason that I’d never come out and said that I loved Him, when He said it to me often. My only concession was to call Him lover. It was for the same reason that while I wanted to meet and be with Him, I was afraid of what He’d think of me. I’d never completely opened my emotions to Him and He knew that.

But it was getting a little harder everyday.

“What is it?” He asked me immediately, sensing my withdrawal. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Startled, I said to Him, “What do you mean?”

A little bewildered He spoke hesitantly, “Why were you crying?”

“You don’t know?” I asked sharply – my voice a burst of sound in His mind.

“No. I just....I suppose, I just acted like a telephone exchange.” His voice was ironic but nonetheless anxious about my reaction and questions.

“Telephone exchange?” I asked quizzically.

How had He known? But more importantly, why hadn’t He recognized grandma Claudia? Fine, He didn’t know her, hadn’t been introduced, but He could have at least identified her voice, known what was wrong. But He hadn’t. He hadn’t known any of those things, only that something was wrong.

“You know how two people use separate telephones to talk to each other but they are connected through one telephone exchange?”

“Yes,” I replied my mind whirling.

“I was…umm, I was the exchange.” He ended, a little apprehensive of my reaction. “It just came out of nowhere, somebody calling for you and it came through me. Sweetness, I was so afraid that I’d be too late.” His voice filled with guilt.

Confusion. Apprehension. Guilt. Those were the three main emotions I’d picked up from Him that night. He’d been confused about what was happening, apprehensive that He’d be late to stop whatever it was, guilty that He’d been responsible for whatever it was that had happened.

“Oh, baby no. Was it horrible?” I couldn’t help but ask.

The reply was low-key and characteristic of Him: “I suppose, it was what water pipes feel like when they have scalding water rushing through them.”

I winced in sympathy and made a move to soothe Him, only to have Him brush it aside and focus His laser-like intensity on my feelings.

“Sweetness, please tell me. Tell me anything. Was it very bad?” He pleaded.

Unable to stop the hitch in my breath, I simply shook my head, hoping He’d feel it, wouldn’t make me say it. Finally, I settled on saying:

“It’s…someone I care about isn’t well.” I couldn’t say she was dying.

My nana was dying…I couldn’t say it to Him, until I could say it to myself, until I’d accepted it. Because this time, I knew that I would need Him to carry me through it, to hold me.




The curtains fluttered silver in the moonlight. Shadows thickened and the light concentrated in pools away from the bed. The potpourri of roses shouldered its way through the sharp echo of grief surrounding me and a thicket of shadows fluttered to my right. Out of the corner of my eye, I felt them shift and slide across the foot of the bed leaving the silk and lace rustling in their wake. The faint scent of roses crept across my ankles, mimicking His gossamer light touch in my mind.

The shadows slithered up the bed and the roses grew stronger and stronger until I was surrounded by them. He enfolded me in the deepest recesses of His love and showered me with affection and comfort. A warm weight drifted over my abdomen, where my night shirt had ridden up. But still He floated, uncertain, unsure of His reception.

A sharp intake of breath then, He said, “May I lie with you?”

In response, I simply turned on my back, the night shirt rode higher and the weight settled on my stomach with a sigh. The shadows slid formless and weightless beside me, a creak and He lay on His side, His hand rhythmically stroking my stomach.

“I’m sorry,” His whispered breath warmed my ear. “I knew something was wrong…I just didn’t know what.”

Unable to bear His comforting gaze or I’d spill everything I turned on my side, scooting back into Him, pulling my knees to my chest.

He simply folded himself around me. Like a cocoon, the silken net of shadows laced with roses draped itself over me. He slid deeper into my mind, just as His body pressed intimately into mine.

I felt like I was sitting inside Him breathing the very fabric of His being. I could feel His love for me swell and unfurl a swathe of brilliantly colored fabric: hammered gold mixed with green like cats eyes, sparkling amethysts intertwined with sapphire blues, and through it all ran a river of crimson.

It was crimson like poppies, crimson like life, crimson like the desire that undulated and breathed between us.

My breath caught in my throat as He drenched me in the colors of His soul. His absolute, overpowering, faithful, endless love for me flowed from His mind to mine. The roses seeped into my skin, fevering my blood, scenting my hair, a thousand sparklers exploded behind my eyes as the intensity of our feelings grew violently. It grew louder like a burst of static, thrilling and electrifying everything within reach, like the pitch of noise or pain reaching the threshold of its tolerance….

And then, it shut off as abruptly as it started. The door opened and Maria stood at the threshold.

*************************************************************

I woke up early the next morning, around 5 or so. Crowded to the edge of the bed, I barely stopped myself from falling off, courtesy of Maria-bed-hog-Deluca! Shaking my head, I stumbled off to the bathroom. A quick shower, change of clothes and I felt a little more like a human being.

Making my way downstairs quietly, I checked both Alex and Max’s rooms. But their doors were closed. I seemed to be the only one both hungry and awake. Dinner had been a sketchy affair and I hadn’t eaten much the previous day. This morning I was starving, and the kitchen seemed the best place to take care of that.

The kitchen was a huge and comforting yellow tiled affair. Oddly shaped, it had a small breakfast nook in one corner, accompanied by two large windows overlooking the backyard. A butcher block stood in the middle with copper pots and herb planters hanging from the ceiling. I decided to try my luck with the double-door fridge poking my head in I looked around for something to eat…milk, butter, eggs, day-old Chinese. Nothing looked good. I decided to make some coffee before my deprivation hit me.

Slamming the last cupboard shut, I huffed out, “Where the hell do they keep the damn coffee!”

I whirled around on a sharp squeak when a voice said smoothly, “In the tea canister, the second cupboard to your right!”

“Max!” I gasped out. I hadn’t heard him walk into the kitchen. He must walk like a cat. From the looks of it, I wasn’t the only one who was having an early start. Shaved, showered and dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt he looked like he’d been up for hours.

Looking apologetically in my direction, he said “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Then taking a step back out of the kitchen, “Would you rather be alone?”

“Oh, no! Umm, that’s ok. I wasn’t paying attention.” Feeling a little awkward for being so jumpy, twice now, I gave him a hopeful look and said, “You weren’t going to make any coffee by any chance, were you?”

An answering smile swept across his face and heading towards the coffee stash, he said, “I was actually going to have breakfast. Omelettes and toast, ok?”

“Uh, yeah sure. I didn’t mean…”

“It’s ok. I like to cook.” Moving to the island he efficiently unhooked a frying pan, pulled out some eggs and a variety of cheeses from the fridge before putting on the coffee pot. Twenty minutes later, we were sitting across from each other, eating some really good eggs and chicory coffee.

Feeling more comfortable, I began earnestly. “I’m really sorry about my reaction yesterday. I was stressed I didn’t mean to be rude. And umm, thank you for giving me time with my grandma.”

He shrugged and adding more tobasco to his eggs said, “I imagine it must have been difficult for you to see her. Julia didn’t mind letting you sit there, don’t worry about it.”

Considering how gracious he was being, and curious about my conversation with Maria I asked him, “How did you meet grandma Claudia, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Swallowing, “Not at all. I met her in Roswell around two years ago. I was finishing up my thesis at the Reservation and she’d come there for a study. We hit it off. She’s really great!” He said beaming, getting up to refill his and my coffee cups.

“I’d read up on a lot of her work and her theories, you know similarities of First Nation symbols the world over, their significance and things like that. We talked about it. I guess we had a lot of views in common and well, she offered me the job and I took it.”

Blowing a cooling breath on my coffee, I looked up to see his eyes glowing with enthusiasm and enjoyment and it struck me. He really loved it. He loved getting dirty, translating dead languages and giving people long gone a history. I suppose it wasn’t strange that someone who had been so disappointed by his past would want others to have better, to do better.

Wanting to know more, I asked him, “How did you like NY and Columbia?” Oh God! You idiot, Liz! I wanted to smack myself. He’d found his ‘birth family’ in NY. How stupid could I be, I wanted to kick myself.

Smiling faintly, he said “Columbia was great. It was a lot of fun and hard work. They have a great program.” A shadow passed over his face, “NY was a bit rough. It’s a big city and things work differently there, as I found out. I took care of it, though.” He ended cryptically.

Not wanting to upset him, I stood up with dishes and asked him, “What do you do with grandma?”

Leaning back in his chair, Max said “My degree program requires a piece of substantive publishable research at the end…umm that’s what I am doing. I have another year left to finish it up. Anyway, when I was last in Roswell, I found some interesting symbols in a cave on the reservation. They didn’t fit the pattern of what we expected so I worked on identifying and translating them. Come up with a theory of what they meant, how they came to be, stuff like that. Ms. Parker was interested in the same thing and she’d done work on it before. We are sort of writing a book together on what her and my cumulative research has discovered about First Nation history. It’s some pretty cool stuff.”

Impressed, I said, “And Alex?”

Studying his hands for a second, Max replied, “Alex kind of works under me as a cryptologist. Some of the symbols can’t be translated. I studied Native American languages but they don’t fall into that category so Alex came in to see if they were code or something. He seems to think that it is, but hasn’t gotten very far in translating it.” Sighing, “It’s very frustrating.”

It all seemed like a very big deal to me, especially the new research and discovery aspects of it, so I wondered out loud, “how do you keep it quiet?”

Catching his look for surprise, I continued, “This is all pretty new, right? So how do you make sure that no one can steal your ideas?”

Max stood up and pushed his chair back. Facing me he answered, “Access to the site is restricted. Since it isn’t a dig very few people are allowed in the caves and where we do our work. The Chief has given us full permission to use the site, as long as we acknowledge them and inform them what we find before publishing anything.”

Continuing a little more slowly, “That’s the tricky part. Some of it isn’t for them.”

“What do you mean?”

“About what?” He asked startled.

“What do you mean that some of it isn’t for them?” I asked wondering if he had even realized what he’d said.

Shuffling his feet, Max replied, “Oh, I just meant that carbon estimates suggest that the markings were made before the Reservation communities arrived there. So, umm, whoever the intended recipients of those messages were, well they aren’t the Indians, so technically they don’t have any rights to them.”

He looked at me seriously it seemed to make sure whether I was following what he said. Either that or he wanted to see if I believed him and I am not sure that I did.

*************************************************************

Maria and Alex made an appearance for breakfast around nine just as I’d finished checking my email. It was decided that all three of us, Maria, Alex and I, would head over to the hospital around noon. Max excused himself saying that he had to finish up writing his notes and look over what Alex had brought back from the lab.

It was at the hospital, while we were waiting that Maria asked Alex, “Hey Alex, do you remember what grandma Claudia said about Max?”

Used to Maria’s abrupt changes in conversation he replied equably, “When?”

“About meeting him?” Maria asked. “Did she meet him in Roswell first or was it before?”

Wrinkling his brow, Alex rifled through his memory. Alex has the most amazing memory of anyone I have ever known. I think it’s as close to photographic as you can get. If he remembers something then it must have happened. But since I’d just asked Max this question early this morning, I was pretty sure he wouldn’t come up with anything.

Much to my surprise, he said “I’m pretty sure she said it was England.” Putting his thoughts in order, he snapped his fingers. “Yeah, ok, got it. She saw him in St. Ives in Cornwall. He was doing some work on ruins.”

Bemused as to why he’d lie about something like that, I asked, “When was this?”

“I think it was two years ago, cause I remember she was going to visit you and I’d sent Maria some stuff to send to you.”

Before I could question him any further, the nurse on duty, strawberry blonde again, came along and told us we could go in to see grandma Claudia.

*************************************************************

This time when I walked into room 600, I was prepared. The much needed succor my lover offered had gone a long way in easing some of my misery. I was prepared to be cheerful and to not let her drift into talks of death or dying. Today we would talk about life and all things we would do together, once she got better.

“Hi nana! How are you feeling?” I asked brightly settling down beside her. Her hand tucked into mine.

“Lizzie,” she whispered, looking so much frailer since yesterday.

“Yes,” I leaned in.

“Must talk to you…important,” she breathed out her voice sinking even lower.

“Nana, we aren’t going to talk about depressing stuff today, ok? You know I was thinking, once you get better, you should come back with me. Won’t that be great?” I spoke cheerfully.

Looking at me through lowered lashes, she rasped out, “Honey bear stop.”

Shaking my head, I opened my mouth to disagree but she beat me to it.

“Lizzie, listen.” Forcing in a deep breath she clenched her hand before speaking, “Honey bear, should have told you sooner. Sentinel, will awaken.” Her voice faltering, she pushed out, “Look…key…inside” her sentence broken by coughing.

I stared at her in astonishment. She didn’t make any sense. She sounded like she was rambling, incoherent but her eyes and her voice were both clear and steady. She was focusing her entire will on me, urging me to listen and remember. Without thinking about it, I leaned in further to listen to her better and tried to memorize every word that she said. What it meant though was beyond me.

Her eyes burned in her face, like two black coals burning with intensity while her voice sank to a broken breathless rasp.

“Lizzie, not much time now. Be careful. Danger…wicked thing…I feel. Should have told…thought there…time left. So sorry…told…not sure, now. Tried...ask boy.”

Frantic with worry, I tried to ease the pace of her words, but the rough sounds fell upon one another.

“The boy must know….trust. Depend. Love. Lizzie,” her other hand scrabbled for mine, “have faith. Believe. Remember canyon?”

I nodded vehemently, every nerve in my mind screaming that this was bad, that I should tell her to stop before it was too late. I wanted to stop her and press the panic button, because her breath was wheezing in and out, because she was babbling, because something wasn’t right. But I didn’t do any of that. Instead I sat and listened, holding her hand, because she said:

“Listen…remember. Promise. Promise me, both do right.”

Helpless against the fervency in her voice, I said “I promise nana.”

The grip on my hand eased a little, and little red moon-shaped welts appeared where her fingers had dug into my wrist. Smiling faintly, her hand rose part way to smooth my hair, “Follow your heart. Blessing…both.”

And just like that, her hand fell from mid-air and the oxygen fighting its way into her lungs seized. Staring at her waxen cheeks stunned, my heartbeat sounded abnormally loud in my ears. The whirr of the machinery in the room replaced the sound of her heartbeat until it faded into nothing. The scream clawing its way to my lips was overtaken by the piercing shriek of the alarms.

The next second, I was standing outside Room 600, staring in silence through a small 2 by 4 window, the frenetic activity and buzz of life fighting to bring her back. But I knew better. The shroud that slid over me smelled like death: myrrh and frankincense.

Memory and grief.

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Thank you for all the feedback and apologies for the delay, I was out of town. I'll try to reply tomorrow. Cheers.
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References: Tennyson, Woolf, Shakespeare


Chapter 6 –


I sometimes hold it half a sin
To put in words the grief I feel
In Memoriam, i-ii



“So loveliness reigned and stillness, and together made the shape of loveliness itself, a form from which life had parted; solitary like a pool at evening, far distant, seen from a train window, vanishing so quickly that the pool, pale in the evening, is scarcely robbed of its solitude, though once seen. Loveliness and stillness clasped hands in the bedroom, and among the shrouded jugs and sheeted chairs even the prying of the wind, and the soft nose of the clammy sea airs, rubbing, sniffling, iterating, and reiterating their questions – ‘will you fade? Will you perish?’ – scarcely disturbed the peace, the indifference, the air of pure integrity, as if the question they asked scarcely needed that they should answer: we remain.”

I ended my selected passage and gently laid the mournful lilies on the coffin. Their brilliance contrasted starkly with the dark earth, and the grayness of the sky and my soul. We remain, we remain, we remain, the words echoed in my head. I had promised nana that I would remember the permanence of her memory within me, yet try as I might I couldn’t recapture the warm fullness of her spirit. I felt hollowed out and empty.

Dry eyed I walked back to stand between my parents both of whom had been grief-stricken over my grandmother’s death. Maria and Alex clung to each other, two steps behind me. Friends and family surrounded the casket spoke their words of friendship and respect. They all laid their pale gardenias on the growing pile of flowers. Aware of both the curious and sympathetic looks being cast my way we turned away from the grave and slowly made our way to the car. I stopped next to the car one last time for one final glance and saw Max Evans hands clasped in front, bowed head, laying down a crimson rose.

A vivid splash of color, an anguished cry, a reminder that we remain.

**************************************************

Two days later…

My head hurt. My feet ached. I felt fatigued and older than my years. The past two days had been absolute and utter hell. Once she was gone there were a thousand and one things to be done, arrangements to be made and I was grateful for the busy work that kept from thinking too much. That kept from feeling it all, from feeling anything.

I had always known how hard it would be for me when nana died, but I’d never conceived of how difficult it would be for my parents, for Maria and Alex, and for everyone who had ever come in contact with her. Engulfed by sorrow my mind had shut down. Unable to take the solace and comfort just within reach I shut Him and everything else out of my mind.

We hadn’t spoken since that night he had cocooned me within his soul and his heart.

The world felt monochromatic but the jewel tones of His love felt garish. I couldn’t let myself feel just then and if it hurt Him in then I would pay that price too when the time came. It sounds so simply when I say it like that but the reality was so much more complicated and painful than that. I had never cut myself off from Him before, never left Him stone cold and isolated. The one other time I had separated myself from Him it had been for a few hours and even then I kept leaking and so had He.

This was loneliness and isolation.

The first night, I had felt him prowling outside my mind his energy restless and anxious. His frantic energy had stoked mine. I’d felt so jumpy that I was ready to claw out of my own skin. I sealed myself tight against Him after that. Where once there was love and warmth, companionship and desire, now there was…nothing. But like a severed limb, its phantom weight remained. The twinges of pain and loneliness came through even though He was outside and I was sequestered within the cold cage that I had prepared for myself so very carefully. The gates had slammed shut.

The strain of being a prisoner within my own mind was beginning to take its toll on me. Fatigue showed in the form of bruises under my eyes and in the pallor of my skin. Nana was gone and there was nothing I could do about it. I felt no grief, no sorrow. There were no tears clogging the back of my throat or prickling my eyes, all I felt was the coldness of being alone.

She had left me and I had shut out the one other person who could give me solace. I know now, that it wasn’t fair of me to do that but with nana’s death all my insecurities had taken root.

**************************************************

One week later…

One hundred and ninety-two hours of being cold. One hundred and ninety-two hours of being alone.

It has been a week since she died and I am completely bereft. Like directionless flotsam I am buffeted and scraped raw by the waves of emotion beating against me. And it is all I can do to not feel … because if I do, I will drown gasping for breath and release underneath it all. I will sink into oblivion weighted down by grief, a fate worse than poor Ophelia’s.

It’s not the loneliness I mind -- no, not the loneliness -- but instead the absence of feeling, the absence of color, the absence of sound. The absence of being.

My lover…It has been a week and a day since I last felt Him. But this willful separation doesn’t make this any easier to bear. I know His sorrow and isolation as keenly as I feel my own, yet I can do nothing to break it. This chasm that I have opened between us widens every second, of every hour of every day. And each passing day it seems more impossible to bridge than the day before.

Why is it there?

I wonder about that too. I suppose it’s because I am angry, so very angry. I’m angry that He left me alone. Angry that He hasn’t found me yet. But most of all I am angry that He hasn’t felt how much I need Him. It’s unfair, I know. I know. But I’m so tired of making decisions, of forging ahead inspite of myself. I just want someone, no Him - I want Him, to take away the decision from me, to break down my barriers.

I guess I just want Him…to want me as wrenchingly and hungrily as I want Him. This once I won’t make the first move.

**************************************************

“Lizzie? Liz?” My father’s hand shook me out of my stupor.

Startled into awareness, I looked up into his concerned face. Before I could ask him anything, he said: “Are you ok, honey?”

Not knowing what to say in response to that, I simply nodded dumbly and asked, “Yes, why?”

Ushering me towards the sofa he spoke gently, “I’ve been calling your name for ten minutes – five of those were spent waving a hand in front of your face. Honey, are you sure you are ok? You were just standing there in the middle of the lounge looking completely lost?” His expression growing even more concerned towards the end of his sentence.

Was I ok? Was I lost? I suppose I was. But what could I say to him, what could I say that wouldn’t make me sound completely crazy. Besides, maybe I was beginning to lose faith in this lover of mine, who had remained frighteningly still, who had added to my creeping inner stillness by remaining silent. What could I say to my father?

Forcing the muscles around my mouth and in my throat to move, I asked with some semblance of normalcy, “Sorry. Did you need me for something?”

Staring at me a little longer, he replied, “No, honey, Mr. Evans wanted to talk to you about something.”

Startled, I hadn’t even noticed anyone else in the room, I said, “Who?”

A soft formal sounding voice came from my left, “I apologize for the intrusion Ms. Parker. My name is Phillip Evans. I am your grandmother’s attorney.”

Looking at the tall, grey haired man, with the somber blue eyes, I couldn’t help but think the most inconsequential thoughts: “He has blue eyes,” “His son looks nothing like him.”

At my father’s invitation, he sat down on the love-seat across from me. Crossing his legs, and casually straightening the crease in his trousers, he deliberately set his briefcase on the table between us. Resting his hands on the briefcase, he continued, as if there had been no long pause, no moment of awkwardness. Maybe father and son resembled each other after all the unbidden thought crossed my mind.

“I am terribly sorry for our mutual loss, Miss Parker. Claudia was a long-standing client and close friend of mine,” and with that he snapped open the briefcase.

My father stood up and said, “I’ll just leave you two alone. Phillip if you need anything please just ask. I’ll be in the kitchen,” squeezing my shoulder comfortingly he disappeared through the doorway.

Gathering my wits, I spoke “Please call me Liz, Mr. Evans.”

A quick glance upwards, then taking out a sheaf of papers he said, “Thank you, Liz. As I mentioned earlier, I knew Claudia quite well, I suppose almost as well as anyone could hope to know her. I came to be her lawyer when my father passed away, she had been his client. Her arrangement with him was a longstanding one, and she felt no reason to change it once she had satisfied herself with my credentials and background.”

Smoothing out the papers in his hand, he continued conversationally. “I had hoped to do this a lot earlier but some things needed to be put in order before I could come to you.” Casting a glance in my direction, he smiled self-deprecatingly, “I can see that you are quite bewildered, perhaps I should tell you what I know.”

Taking my nod as an affirmative, he drew a breath and started again. “As I just told you, Claudia and my father had a longstanding understanding. What the nature of that understanding was or what it entailed is not information I can share with you because frankly, I don’t know what it was either. Nearly two years ago, after your grandmother came back from visiting you, Claudia called me. She wanted me to redraft some sections of her will, add an addendum and leave some of her effects in my possession to be given to you, when you turned twenty-three. In the event that she was to die before you reached that age, I was to give her possessions to you.”

Seeing my quizzical expression he stopped and motioned me to speak. Never in my wildest imaginings had I thought of something like this. I was having a hard time framing my thoughts so I settled on what was upper most in my mind. “What kind of possessions? What kind of addendum in her will?” Pausing, I thought over what he said, and asked, “Why are we doing this like this, shouldn’t a will reading be done with all the beneficiaries in attendance?”

A gleam of approval shone on his face and leaning forward he said, “Yes, I was wondering if you would ask that.” Steepling his fingers in front of his face, “Liz, I’ll answer your last question first. You are right but this isn’t a reading of the will. That will take place on Friday, at noon.”

Mentally counting off the days I realized that the will would be read in three days time. Hopefully enough time for me to pull myself together.

“I came here today to inform you of the actions your grandmother took. I can’t answer your first question because of the addendum in her will, which answers your second question.”

Furrowing his brow, Mr. Evans continued his inventory of nana’s odd requests. “The addendum in her will forbids me from sharing the nature of her possessions with you. All I can tell you is that aside from the expected beneficiaries, Claudia’s will contains some stringent clauses that pertain to you and one other person.”

Forestalling my question he continued, “I am afraid I can’t reveal the identity of the other person. However, I am allowed to give you a letter that Claudia left with me, and to inform you that according to the timetable set by your grandmother, a week and a day after her death you were to receive this letter.” He pulled out a thin grey envelope from the depths of his briefcase and held it in his hands for a long moment.

He stared at it for a moment, as if trying to plumb the depths of my grandmother’s secrets. Dissatisfied with the silence, “Three days after you received her letter, the will was to be read, and after the will-reading you and the other recipient would have a month to make your decision.”

A quick glance in my direction, where I sat slack-jawed gaping at the confusing enormity of information I now knew, he closed his briefcase, set the envelope on the table between us, and stood up.

“I can well imagine your confusion, Miss Parker.” The formality was back, accompanied by his discomfort at being in such an untenable position. “I am sorry about how little I can tell you, and how little I can help you. The only thing I can say is that Claudia was a brilliant woman and she loved you dearly. Whatever this letter contains and the decision you have to make, I am confident she did it with your best interests at heart.”

Shrugging ruefully he moved towards the door, as I stood rooted to the spot. His words echoing in my mind. “I’ll let myself out. See you on Friday,” and with a series of quiet clicks he opened and shut the door behind him.

Feeling my legs wobble under me, I stared at the ghostly envelope. My mind reeling with all the information Mr. Evans had dumped on me.

Grandma Claudia had changed her will after she visited me in England.

Max Evans’ grandfather had known her.

Grandma Claudia had left some possessions for me that were not included in her will.

She had set a timetable that her lawyer had to follow.

There was an undisclosed beneficiary who had received a similar letter and instructions.

I had a month to make a decision.

But none of that registered. The only thing my mind could comprehend was that lying right there in front of me was a letter that nana had sent to me from beyond the grave. It was that last thought, which made me lunge across the table and frantically rip open the envelope, heedless of the mess I was making.

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My dearest Lizzie, if you are reading this letter – then the worst is yet to come…

roswelluver: Thanks. Here's some more mystery to mull over.

Cherie: Thank you for your lovely feedback. Tell me some of your ideas...

Tabasco Liz: "Meltdown" Yeah, I suppose that's one way to look at it.

youre my dream girl: I live to reel! LOL.

alienmom: Thank you for the praise. As always, theories and ideas are welcome. The more the merrier, I say!

mlover25: Thank you for reading, and you just happen to be in luck -- I wasn't feeling cruel today so here's chapter 7! LOL. Although you might re-evaluate that after this chapter.

ENJOY!

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References: Shakespeare

Chapter 7


By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes.
Macbeth


My dearest Lizzie, if you are reading this letter – then the worst is yet to come…

Whatever it was that I thought nana wanted to tell me, I had never imagined it would begin like this! Taking a deep breath I cleared my mind and focused my whirling thoughts on the spidery writing in front of me.

My dearest Lizzie, if you are reading this letter – then the worst is yet to come…

…but this is a terrible way to begin a letter to my favorite granddaughter, so let me try again.

My dearest Lizzie, you have been in every way possible the best and most wonderful grand-child anyone could have ever wanted. You are certainly better than what I expected or even deserved. Given that knowledge, I can only hope that I have trained you well enough to deal with the adversities coming your way. If not my training, then I live in the comfort that you Lizzie were meant to do magnificent things, great things, even terrible things – but that is the cost of greatness, is it not?

I fear that this is not making much sense, and neither will the remainder. There are so many things you need to know, and a greater number of things you must understand, but I have no time.

The first thing you must understand is that there are rules that must be followed. Rules that govern the roles of all the players and rules that govern all that is to come but these rules do not determine the outcome. The outcome very much depends on the characters of the people involved. And I am sure Lizzie, that your character, strength of will and goodness of heart will carry you through the end. But you must agree to it first.

That is the catch. Nothing will happen rather nothing that involves you will occur, unless and until you agree to participate. There are dark and dangerous events brewing on the horizon, events that will shape futures of worlds untold. All of these things will continue whether or not you agree to participate. But they won’t affect you – this much I was promised, and I can promise you.

The second thing you must understand is that in the end, come what may, the final decision is yours alone.

I want you to know Lizzie that you have been my pride and joy. I trust you to follow your heart and do what seems best and right to you. I will support your decision no matter what it might be. After the reading of the will, where you will find out some more…you will have a month to decide.

Should you agree to the terms of the codicil, you will be bound to follow through on your word and all that is demanded of you. There is powerful magic there, which will ensure your compliance. There are dark and dangerous events brewing on the horizon and they may frighten you with their power and their malice but always have faith in yourself and your companions.

Thirdly, remember what we talked about, Liz, there are more things in heaven and earth that can be explained or understood.

Fourth: The answers lie within you. Follow your heart. And remember, stronger together than apart.

I am sorry for putting you in such a position but my hands were tied. Sometimes, the human mind is simply unable to grasp the complexity of the universe and its infinite connections. Call it fate or bad luck that you and I got caught in the eye of the storm.

My dearest honey bear follow your dreams to the brightest star shining in the farthest galaxy – the rewards will be richer and more fulfilling than anything you could imagine.

Yours forever,

Nana

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Head reeling, I put the letter down. What did it mean? It was all very mysterious and confusing. Needless to say, it was nothing like I had imagined it would be. This was not the fond farewell one anticipated receiving from a beloved grandparent! No, this was more like an invitation to…and invitation to what?

Scanning the letter again, I reread the fragments and phrases that lingered in my head.

“The worst is yet to come” What could be worse than nana dying? What could be worse than being separated from my lover? I couldn’t bear what was happening now, how could she expect me to bear more? How much more could there be?

“Adversities” but it wasn’t just that -- there was more to it than just adversities. It was more than trials, more than tests. What was it that she had said, “There are dark and dangerous events brewing on the horizon, events that will shape futures of worlds untold.”

Dark and dangerous events that would shape the futures of worlds untold.

In the light of day, the waning light of the afternoon sun her words made no sense to me. They seemed fantastical, mad even. And yet, they didn’t match anything I remembered about nana. She had been logical and rational. She had believed only after seeing, after touching, after tasting, after hearing. But had she? Was everything that I remembered and knew about her a lie? No, it couldn’t be, I had known her better than anyone. She had no secrets from me … but didn’t she? The soft voice in mind grew softer still. Planting insidious doubts in mind, how well had I known her because from the looks of this letter, she had lived a life that I had no knowledge of. Before I was trapped by my own insatiable logic, fed by my doubts, I stamped down that thought.

No. No, I wouldn’t accept it. I wouldn’t disbelieve, not now. There must have been a reason for her to have kept this from me.

Struggling to keep some sense of balance, I pushed ahead with the phrases fluttering to capture my attention.

“You Lizzie were meant to do magnificent things, great things, even terrible things – but that is the cost of greatness, is it not?”

Magnificent things?

How could I possibly do magnificent things, I was just a small town girl from New Mexico, living a quiet academic life. Yet the words lodged themselves in my brain, echoing and repeating. Their cadence hollowed yet weighty. They sounded ominous. Words that should be spoken by hushed voices in dark spaces afraid to disturb the silence and here I had read them out loud, repeated them in the fading afternoon light. Their vocalization leant them a leaden gravity that sat ill on my shoulders and I felt so very tired.

“Powerful magic” and “more things in heaven and earth that can be explained or understood.”

She had said something similar to me twice before and I struggled to remember both occasions. Aah yes! She had asked me that night at the Grand Canyon and later, when my father and I’d been fighting over school. I remember not answering the first time, and unable to articulate what I thought in the second. But here it was again the eternal question, which she asked me every time and I had never provided a concrete answer. But now, now I had the curious sensation that time was running out. I had to decide where I stood one way or the other.

I had to decide.

In the end, after all else was said and done – she had promised that it would be my decision. But what would I decide? The fates of worlds unknown hung in the balance – what would I decide. Did I even believe in fate or destiny? What happened to free will? What happened to choice and becoming whoever one wanted to be, of doing whatever one wanted to do? How could I make a choice about something I didn’t even believe in?

Heart hurting and head aching, I wobbled off to my bedroom on unsteady legs. The letter had a death grip on my mind. I felt that each and every word had been engraved in my mind. I could feel the residual scraping.

What would I do?

Make a choice, the soft voice whispered in my mind. It sounded like Him, but it couldn’t be – He was out. Locked out.

The whisper turned cold and sibilant, make a choice little girl. The vacuum around my mind and my heart shrank. The cold turned inward trailing dimming sound and color in its wake. I felt naked and vulnerable. Standing in the eye of the storm…I felt insignificant, meaningless. And the voice hissed, make a choice, as the weight of worlds bore down on me and the darkness pressed in from all sides.

Make a choice, it grew colder more strident. Choose -- its mocking laughter rang in my mind. What will you choose, little girl? Choose, choose, choose…..

Unable to bear the coldness, feeling the void encroach upon my spirit, my voice caught in my throat as I thrashed on my bed. The warm familiarity of my parent’s home seemed sinister and suffocating. The laughter and hissing grew louder, like a thousand vultures gathering overhead, the stench of decay rose like a mist from the floor. And still the voice hissed, choose, little girl, choose.

Struggling against the phantom that held me down, my mind breaking underneath the unbearable pressure I screamed out…

“Help! Please help, please!”

My mental voice hesitated over calling His name, asking for His help but the pressure increased and just as I felt a warm spurt of blood on my face, I screamed out in terror.

“LOVER!”

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I woke up to warm hands cradling my face and a sense of familiar comfort engulfed me. Touching a hand to my face, I passed through the warmth and touched the congealed blood drying around my nose. Suddenly remembering the horror from before I struggled against the binding grip around me and reared back in fear.

The hands loosened immediately. The weight next to my hip moved away. The curtain fluttered open to show the afternoon sun setting lower in the skin. The stray rays bent and gathered in a pool at the foot of my bed. Unfamiliar with His day-time presence, I spoke hesitantly to the pool of shimmering quartz.

“When did you come?”
A moment of silence and then His weary voice came through, “Right when you were screaming.”

The curt tone and short sentence as well as His distance told me everything that He hadn’t said and probably wouldn’t…

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you do this alone?” Taken aback by the frustration welling in His voice I couldn’t even formulate an answer.

“Do you have any idea what its like to hear you screaming as if you were being killed, as if you were about to die? Do you know what it feels like to know the moment your heart stops because in the split second all your reason to live is gone? You almost died! You came so close to dying that if I had come a second later you would have bled to death.”

The hot lash of His anger and fear melted away any residual coldness in the room. Deep in my heart, I could feel a small ember blink to life. Without even waiting to hear anything, He stalked across the room, the light sparking in His wake crackling with suppressed electricity.

“Do you know what its like to be locked out of your home for days on end? No, not even your home, but your country. It’s as if someone comes up to you, rips your passport out of your hands and then burning it says – you DON’T belong here. No wait! It’s as if someone rips apart your identity from the inside out leaving you broken and bleeding on the ground. All of a sudden you aren’t who you thought you were. You are NOBODY. Do you know what it’s like to circle our mind, to be locked out of our being, to be separated from us, from you?”

Losing steam, His voice became gravelly and broken, “I felt like I was dead,” the pool of light flickered dully on the floor.

Unable to bear the desolation in His voice and the guilt flooding through me, I whispered, “You didn’t come.”

Ignoring His startled gasp, I continued haltingly the hurt no longer a secret but emanating from every nerve ending.

“I know what it feels like because I was on the inside. I know. I know what it’s like to wait for someone to break down your walls. I know what it’s like to wait and wait while the cold grows increasingly bitter and your voice silent. I waited for you but you didn’t come.”

Stunned by the bitterness in my voice, He made a gesture in my direction, but stopped midway. “You wanted me to break down your walls and come and get you. Is that what it was?”

My guiltily defiant nod had Him continuing softly. “I see. You isolated yourself and locked me out as a test. I came to you every single day and every single night but you shoved me away. I called you but you didn’t hear…because you weren’t listening.”

Restlessly shoving a hand through His hair, back turned towards me He continued with a finality that was my first indication that perhaps I had misjudged Him, misjudged the depth of His need.

“You punished us because you wanted me to break through your defenses. You wanted me to breach your mind.”

Changing the topic of discussion abruptly, He asked me conversationally His easy voice contrasting with the rigidity of His mind. “Why is your nose bleeding? Do you know? And while we are discussing this, do you know why you fainted?”

Taken aback by the brutality of the images and the softness of His voice, I couldn’t even formulate an answer. Waiting a few beats He asked me again, “Why do you think that happened? Do you know?”

Unable to bear His scrutiny, I simply shrugged.

“Your nose was bleeding and you fainted because the pressure on your mind became too much. It became too much because you had closed yourself off from me so when you were hurting the pain kept reverberating through your closed mind like shrapnel rebounding off impenetrable walls. Add to that my struggle to break in without you loosening your bindings and the pressure grew too much for you to handle. Your inability to trust me almost got you killed, Liz.”

His voice grew softer and softer, but its implacable edge grew sharper. Normally, passionately gentle, intense and a source of enormous comfort and love His anger was something I had never witnessed. It was as if He were a completely different person. Yet, I still felt safe. Only petrifying and heart-stopping fear could have transformed Him from my intense night lover into a hard ruthless stranger. But He wasn’t a stranger. He knew me. What was it that He had just said…

“Liz, you called me Liz! How do you know my name?”

My shocked words burst into His mind. I had been so caught up in the waves of His anger and fear that I hadn’t even realized He had called me by my name. Happiness flared inside me and the danger of before and the gravity of His admissions fell to the wayside. He knew my name.

“I was going to tell you earlier. I tried to talk to you but you wouldn’t let me in. I promised you I would come when it was time.” His voice faded into resignation.

“I guess you didn’t have faith.” And with that He dissolved into a note of bewildered regret.

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mrsbehr: Thank you for the wonderful banner...

extingman: This is just the begining! :evil: LOL.

mlover25, KtF, roswelluver, Kylie, Alien614, crazeesmile, maxnlizbeliever4eva, Tabasco Liz, SarahWhitman: Thank you for reading and all the lovely comment. Welcome to the new readers...hope y'all enjoy the ride.

Cherie: As always, thank you!

Lurkers: Enjoy.

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References: Tennyson, Practical Magic, Sleepless in Seattle

Chapter 8


…and trust
With faith that comes of self-control,
The truths that never can be proved
Until we close with all we lovedIn Memoriam, CXXX



Didn’t I have faith? Didn’t I trust Him? How could that be possible? No, He must be wrong.

The argument raged on in my head as I stood underneath the steaming water. My body felt pulverized and my spirit bruised. I was still no closer to understanding what had happened to me earlier and the confusion depressed me even further. What was I supposed to do now?

He had found me but not under the happy conditions I had long fantasized about. He knew me and yet he had evinced no pleasure at the thought. His lecture ringing in my ears, I toweled down furiously.

How dare He? After everything that I had been through, how dare He criticize me? Yes, He had been the one to first come to me. Yes, He was the one who had come to me regularly over the years but that didn’t change anything. I was the one who had asked Him when we could be together. I was the one who always reiterated my desire to be with Him despite my anxiety over my ‘brown’ appearance. And His answer was always, “when it’s the right time.” But when would it be the right time? Would it be when it was right for Him? Who decided when the right time was? I had needed Him now. I had needed Him and yearned for Him and He had failed me.

His anger had fueled mine. His accusation that I lacked faith and its implication that I didn’t love Him stung and I felt completely off kilter. No one had ever accused me of being disloyal, and now to know that the one person who meant the world to me, that a part of me thought I was disloyal inflamed me beyond reason. Face flushed and breathing heavily, I struggled to regain my customary sense of balance. I reached out with my mind and my heart only to come up blank, empty handed. Afraid of the emptiness looming ahead, I sat down on the bed abruptly, the room swimming.

The cold felt too much like the chill that had gripped me earlier. Could it be that I had nearly died because I had shut Him out? How could that be? It just didn’t make any sense. We were so connected that my pain was our pain, that my mental space was our mental space, that I was a part of a larger we, could it be? My mind couldn’t wrap itself around that idea. No, there must have been something else. I had felt a definite presence in my mind. It hadn’t been Him. He tasted and felt completely different. No, this was something malevolent. It had wanted to hurt me. The taunts had been designed to terrorize me and isolated I hadn’t been able to fight it off. Still I could see why He was so angry.

But that didn’t excuse the fact that He knew me and He hadn’t come. Illogical or not, right or wrong, I really didn’t care. All that remained was the gulf between us. Trapped within choices of our own making, we were – the both of us – suffering. But I couldn’t take the first step, no, not just yet. There was so much I didn’t know and I kept rehashing the same events, the same conversations, the same thoughts over and over again.

I needed a fresh perspective.

Instinctively I reached for the phone and called them. The two people who I knew would listen to me and help me, Alex and Maria. I had left them out in the cold but no more. It would all stop now. They needed to know, and I needed to tell them.

Stronger together than apart? Well, the time to find out was now.

**************************************************

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us Lizzie! How could you not tell me?” Maria’s angry voice cut through the air. She was angrily kicking the sand at the base of the see-saw, her face flushed. Meanwhile Alex sat quietly on the swing.

I had just finished telling them the entire story. Not just about what had happened earlier today but about Him. I told them everything, overriding my ingrained sense of reserve, my every impulse shrieking against it. It felt so surreal to be having this conversation, let alone outside in the park with two of my best friends. Steadying myself against the onslaught of hurt, anger and eventual questions, I waited.

“You’ve been talking to some random guy for years Lizzie, in your head and you didn’t think to tell us about it. You didn’t think it was odd that there were voices in your head?”

Maria’s expression of incredulous disbelief was not unexpected but I still found myself defenseless. She was right, in the light of day I sounded completely insane. If someone else had told me what I had just told them, I’d have them committed to an institution.

“My god, Lizzie, what do you even know about this person? He could be a transvestite, a creep, a baby killer, a freak or anything else in between!” She raged on. Stopping abruptly, she pointed an accusatory finger in my face. “Do you even know if he’s real?”

I couldn’t stop the unbidden protest that rose to my lips, “of course he’s real Maria. I’m not crazy.” I winced at the hysterical note in my voice but couldn’t control it. Turning to Alex, hands outstretched, supplicating. “I’m not crazy Alex, I swear. He’s real, I swear.”

Maria shook me by the shoulders. “Take a deep breath, Liz. Just breathe, ok?”

I shook my head frantically. They had to believe me, they simply had to. I wasn’t crazy. He was real. Light flickered at the corners of my eyes. Black specks swam in and out of focus.

“Oh my God Alex, she’s hyperventilating – do something,” Maria screamed. Steadying my body in the curve of her shoulder, she crooned softly, “Shh, Lizzie, everything will be fine. I promise. We’ll figure it out, ok.”

Nodding with great effort, I looked into Alex’s warm sympathetic eyes begging him to believe me. Stronger together than apart, she had said. I couldn’t do this without them. I struggled to speak.

“I…I can’t do this without you guys. I just can’t.”

Alex slid his arms around me, pulling Maria into the curve of his arm as well. “I promised you Lizzie, before you left. I promised you that no matter what happens, no matter what changes come, we will always have this.”

“Yes,” Maria chimed in, “We will always have each other, Lizzie.” Then continued matter of factly, “When did you last eat?”

Taking my silence for a negative response, Alex simply said, “Well, let’s go to Senor Chow’s have something to eat first and then we’ll do something about this mysterious letter and friend of yours, ok?”

**************************************************

An hour later, the three of us sat replete in Senor Chow’s. As always Maria had been right. When I was stressed or worried lack of food always aggravated the situation. Feeling much better, I looked up to thank them but stopped when I found them staring at me in a quiet measuring way.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I tried for a note of levity, “Still trying to figure out whether you should plan a visit to the funny farm?”

Much to my surprise Maria grinned back. “Lizzie, you are the sanest and most logical person I know. If you believe what you told us then I believe you.”

Even for Maria that was an abrupt volte face and I couldn’t help asking her involuntarily – “what changed your mind?”

Reaching over the table, and clasping my cold hand in her warm one, she said, “You remember when we had that fight in high school?”

Acknowledging the emphasis in her question and the reference I merely nodded.

“Yeah, well, I finally figured out why you wouldn’t date.”

The simplicity of the answer stunned me. After all the melodrama and pathos I had experienced recently it seemed like such a singularly feminine and Maria thing to say that tears sprang in my eyes. Maybe everything was just as simple as that. Through that one comment Maria had allayed my fears. She had read into me with the ease of long-standing friendship and reassured me of my sanity. Smiling tremulously, I replied, “Only you Maria!”

Sliding around to my side of the booth she slung her arm companiably around my shoulders. “That’s right. So, what are we going to do about this situation, boy genius?” her tongue in cheek comment directed towards an abstracted Alex.

Nodding to himself, as if coming to a decision, Alex replied calmly, “That depends entirely on you Liz.”

Startled, I asked, “W..what do you mean?”

“Well what do you want to resolve first?” Seeing Maria and my uncomprehending looks he explained, “Ok, there are two situations here, which might or might not be related, right?”

I nodded in agreement, it certainly seemed like it.

Taking in my nod, Alex continued in measured tones, his hands folding the napkin in front of him in an intricate pattern. “So, there is the situation with your friend, and then there is Grandma Claudia’s letter and the conversation, which she had with you. What do you want to deal with first? I mean, which one can you handle getting answers to?”

Both Maria and I replied simultaneously: “The letter,” “my friend.”

I looked at Maria in surprise. I was so sure she would pick the same as I would. After all, Maria was a romantic and she knew how much He meant to me. She’d want me to find Him before doing anything else.

“Why did you say that?” I asked her.

Sighing, her lips tightening in a gesture that indicated she was going to say something difficult.

“Look, from what you’ve told us about your last conversation it’s pretty clear that you’re both pissed at each other.”

Waving me silent, she continued, “Right now you think he’s being an asshole. An insensitive jerk! And maybe he is. But I bet he isn’t too happy with you right now either. I mean, you scared the life out of him. Right?”

Unwillingly I nodded at Maria’s uncomfortably accurate foray into emotional logic.

“So,” pursing her mouth, “you are both angry and you both think that you are right. And knowing you the way I do, and what I know of him – you are both stubborn as mules!” Seeing my immediate denial, she continued exasperatedly, “C’mon Liz, you know I’m right. Ergo, any conversation you have will be a fight and it will just make everything worse.”

Squeezing my arm she continued sympathetically, “you love him Lizzie. He loves you. Just give it some time. And if he still doesn’t come around, then I’ll hold him down while you beat the crap out of him! How’s that sound?”

“Now there’s the spitfire Deluca I recognize!” Alex crowed. Speaking a little more seriously, he tapped my hand, “How about it Lizzie-bell?”

They both sat there, eyes full of love and sympathy. Concern etched in their very frames and all of a sudden I realized that come what may, I had been right to trust myself to them. In this at least, nana had been right and true.

“Yes, ok.”

**************************************************

It was ten o’clock we’d been wrestling with the pieces of nana’s letter and her last conversation for four hours. We had gotten nowhere very quickly. We lay in various states of exhaustion in Alex’s room: Maria sprawled on her stomach on the bed, her head hanging off the edge; I sat at his desk, my legs resting on the ottoman, and Alex lay on his back on the floor in the middle of the room. It had been his idea that I should move back into nana’s house at least for the night. We could continue our work uninterrupted. If he had an ulterior motive of making me face that she was really gone, he gave no indication of it.

Staring at the “We are Microsoft, You cannot run, You cannot hide, You will be assimilated!” poster on his wall, I chuckled to myself. It felt good to know that despite everything Alex still retained his surreal dorky sense of humor. Raising his head at my laugh, grinning he gestured towards the poster and said,

“Yeah, I thought you’d get a kick out of that.” Pausing a beat, he continued, “you know something, Grandma Claudia’s letter reminds me of that poster.”

“What are you talking about Alex? Are you punchy?” Maria grumbled.

“No, no guys listen,” he straightened excitedly. “Grandma told Liz that something wicked was coming, and then in this letter she specifies that there are events brewing on the horizon. Now both these phrases are active, they indicate something that is happening as we speak, which means that whatever she wants Liz to decide has to do with these events...”

At this point I broke in, “We know this already Alex.”

“Yeah, yeah, but contrary to what we thought, Liz you might be able to control these events. And maybe, just maybe, there are some protections available to you.”

Dumbfounded I wondered where he had come up with all that. Maria had no such qualms, and said as much – “What are you talking about, Alex? Grandma Claudia only warned Liz against these events, which by the way you can totally avoid by deciding against them,” that was directed towards me.

Gathering steam, she waved her hand towards Alex, “besides there was all that stuff about evil and some weird sentinel thing coming after her. I don’t see how you can come up with all this...”

“Maria, wait!” I burst in the middle of her sentence.

Scrambling around in the pile of papers heaped in front of Alex, I pulled out the sheet on which I’d transcribed my last conversation with her. Scanning through it quickly, I read it aloud:

“Honey bear, should have told you sooner. Sentinel, will awaken.” “Look…key…inside.”

“Lizzie, not much time now. Be careful. Danger…wicked thing…I feel. Should have told…thought there…time left. So sorry…told…not sure, now. Tried...ask boy.”

“The boy must know….trust. Depend. Love. Lizzie, have faith. Believe. Remember canyon?”

“Listen…remember. Promise. Promise me, both do right.”

“Follow your heart. Blessing…both.”

Eyes gleaming with excitement, I turned to Alex and said, “That right there. That is what we’ve been misreading!”

Alex looked at me completely befuddled. Impatiently I gestured towards the paper in my hand, and repeated, “There it is.”

“Umm, chica, it’s great that you’ve found whatever ‘that’ is – but would you care to fill us in?” Maria asked tentatively as though worried about my sanity.

Turning to her, gesticulating widely, I asked: “What does sentinel mean to you?”

“Something not too great from her last conversation and the stuff in her letter. It sounded pretty creepy the way it was just going to awaken, whatever that means!” She huffed.

“Sentinel, sentient, sentiment,” Alex muttered aloud, flipping through a thick dictionary. Pointing at a line triumphantly, “Sentinel: noun, latin. One who keeps watch to prevent surprise; a soldier on guard – yes, ok, I see where you’re going with this, Liz.”

“Could the two of you please tell me where the HELL we are going with this?” Maria shouted, hands on her hips, fuming, “Because I don’t have a damn clue!”

“Ria, we’ve been reading the word Sentinel all wrong,” I told her thinking aloud. “We’ve been taking it to mean something negative and creepy, but it actually means something positive. It means a soldier or someone who watches over, protects if you will. Are you with me so far?”

“Yeah,” she grunted her earlier flare of temper dissipating.

“Right, so if the Sentinel awakens when grandma Claudia is out of time or doesn’t have much time left,” Alex interjected thoughtfully picking up where I left off. “Then it means it’s waking up in response to grandma dying, which means that whoever the sentinel is – he or she knows about Liz and is supposed to protect her.”

“Or,” I jumped in finishing the last of his thought, “at the very least warn me before something bad is about to happen.”

“Ooh,” Maria exclaimed. “That totally makes so much more sense. I mean, fine she had to follow some strange set of rules but it didn’t mean that she would leave you unprotected. See, ok that explains the whole ‘that much I was promised’ bit in her letter,” Maria concluded miming quotation marks.

“How do you mean?” I asked curiously, as Alex settled on the bed pulling Maria with him.

“What do you mean, what do I mean?” Maria rolled her eyes.

“Ria…” Alex whined.

“Tense much!” Maria shot back. Snatching a copy of the letter from the bed, she pointed to the relevant section. “Look, right here she says, ‘All of these things will continue whether or not you agree to participate. But they won’t affect you – this much I was promised, and I can promise you.’ If the sentinel is supposed to protect you, warn you or whatever, then it must be here as part of that promise, right?”

Taking in Alex and my identical looks of comprehension, she ended cheerfully, “Well then we don’t have to worry about bad things happening to you Liz, because you’re gonna go back to Oxford and your life, which Grandma Claudia was thrilled you had, and the sentinel, is going to make sure that nothing happens. So we, mi amigos are all set!”

**************************************************

...and hear at times a sentinel
Who moves about from place to place,
And whispers to the worlds of space,
In the deep night, that all is well.
In Memoriam, CXXV


The desert wind and blue moon tiptoed into her room lightly. Covered by a light quilt she barely felt a ripple as they swept through all its dark corners. The breeze warmed a touch and slid along the length of her body, conforming itself to her smell, remembering the days past and times gone when they had been boon companions – the wind and the Kokopelli. They had swept across plains, mountains, valleys and deserts. They had touched millions and been touched by none, for after all who could capture wind in a bottle and who could stopper life?

The moonbeams languidly reached out and sprinkled her slumber with comfort, easing her weary soul. On long and lonely nights they had kept each other company, and showed the lost their way home. But now, now she was lost – Kokopelli – the moonlight mourned. It wavered forlorn but steadied itself, there was time yet. She was as strong as she had always been. But this time it was different. This time it was written in the stars that the beginning of all ends was coming – beware, be ready – the stars chanted.

Moonlight and wind, the two elementals left her wrapped in a silken mesh of dreams. Dreams of a love so true that even time would lie down and be still for; a love so bright it burned with the light of a thousand suns.

Far in the distance, over the swirling sand and under the merciless sky the Sentinel waited, patiently. It waited for the moon and the wind to give news of its charge. It awaited its rebirth.

But still there was time. And there was the question of choice, and of will.

What would she decide?

What would she chose?

The Sentinel waited, patiently.

Her choice and her decision weren’t its concern. The universe would continue to swirl closer and closer to the edge, Gaia would continue to tilt on its axis and the rip in time would continue to widen. Destiny, fate, universe and the quest for life were all just words, meaningless words.

She was the only one that mattered. The only one for whom it waited. The only one to whom it belonged. The only one to whom it responded. Come what may, choose what she might, do what she will, the Sentinel belonged to her alone…the ones that came before had willed it so. They had given it to her free of necessity, free of obligation - a gift for one of the universe’s beloved children.

Come what may, whispered the wind.

Come what may, beamed the moon.

So be it.

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Wow, this board moves fast!

Thank you for all the feedback and welcome to all the new readers! Hope you enjoy the next part.

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Chapter 9


References: Old Hindi Proverb


Seeing a rose and believing it exists is science
Imagining a rose and believing in its existence is love




I woke up feeling rested and serene. It was a new day and I knew more than I had known a day ago.

I quickly threw on some clothes and finger-combed my hair. Wednesday, two more days until the will reading and I still needed to understand the letter a little more. Whatever it was that I would discover on Friday, I knew it would transform my world yet again. I needed to be prepared for that change.

Hurrying down the staircase, I headed towards the kitchen. I needed coffee, and some paper. The conversation from last night reeling through my head needed to be written down. I was quite sure it would make much more sense then. Lost in my thoughts I almost didn’t hear the angry voices coming from the kitchen.

“…it’s none of your business Isabelle!” stopped me abruptly. Hesitant, I stopped in front of the door, my hand suspended mid-push. Who was that?

“Oh, yes it is little brother,” Isabelle’s, I guess, voice shot back. “Anything that involves us is my business.” Unsure as to what to make of the conversation I was about to leave unnoticed, when her next sentence stopped me in my tracks.

“Or, should I say anything that involves the Parker’s is my business!”

What the hell was going on? What was Isabelle Evans’ interest in us? I couldn’t remember ever speaking to her in school. I knew vaguely that Alex had liked her. He’d always blush when she walked by or stammer when talking to her. But one day it had all stopped. He hadn’t looked at her, blushed or stammered when she talked to him…and just like that it was all over. But the quick trip down memory lane hadn’t answered my question about what she was talking about.

“No, Isabelle, it isn’t. I’m dealing with it just like I dealt with the situation in New York, or would you like me to refresh your memory.” I strained to hear Max’s low growl. He sounded so angry that for a moment I was taken aback. I had never heard or seen Max Evans exhibit so much emotion in my entire life.

“Get a grip, people!” Another male voice joined the fray. His voice authoritative and clipped, “let’s focus on the issue – what are we going to do, Maxwell?”

“WE,” I could hear the capitalization through the closed door. “WE aren’t going to do anything. I am.”

“And what exactly is that?” Isabelle asked a little more calmly.

“It’s time to come clean….” Whatever else he was going to say got lost when a tousled Alex, cried, “Hey Lizzie!”

The abrupt silence in kitchen and the scraping of chairs gave me enough time to school my features into some semblance of equanimity and turn to Alex with a smile.

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

Yawning widely, he stretched, “I don’t get how you can look so awake without coffee so early Lizzie. It’s just unnatural!”

Shrugging to hide my disappointment at his ill-timed arrival, I asked, “Did you sleep, ok?”

Hands on my shoulders, he pushed me into the kitchen, “ok, I guess. I dreamt that I was being chased by evil aliens who kept asking me where the key was!”

Glad for the excuse to laugh, we both entered the kitchen in accord, only to have him stop abruptly at the sight in front of us.

A tall statuesque blond stood near the window overlooking the backyard. Masses of wavy golden hair fell below her shoulders. Cold hazel eyes, flickering with some suppressed emotion stared out of a chiseled face. Isabelle Evans. Yep, she hadn’t changed much. Known as the Ice Queen in school, she obviously hadn’t emerged from deep freeze since then. She had also been one of the best dressed girls in school – according to Maria. I could see that hadn’t changed either – dark brown cords, and a slim fitting caramel top, accompanied by caramel and brown strappy flat sandals completed her ensemble.

A broad-shouldered, long haired man stood near the butcher block, calmly slicing peppers and spinach. His brown hair caught at the nape of his neck with a black thong, he looked up and swept a cool look from glittering hazel over both Alex and myself. His eyes were the exact color of his hair I thought to myself inconsequentially just as a hint of a smirk appeared on his face then disappeared.

Just as the silence was about to get uncomfortable, Alex piped up. “Hey guys. What are you all doing here?”

“Isabelle and Michael came to pay their respects to Liz,” Max spoke up from the table. His face completely blank and not a hint of the anger he had experienced a few moments ago. I could only marvel at his control, when he pinned a look at Isabelle, “Isn’t that right, Izzy?”

Her lips curved into a small apologetic smile, and the next moment she whirled towards me as if the coldness and anger had never been there. Hand outstretched, she spoke softly, “I’m very sorry about your grandmother, Liz. I wasn’t in town or I would have come sooner.” She cast a quick look at Alex, “Hi Alex.”

“Michael,” she called to the composed silent man spooning a mixture into a saucepan.

Looking over his shoulder, he replied laconically, “Hi! Breakfast’s ready.”

Biting my lip in amusement at the unceremonious greeting, and Isabelle’s obvious discomfiture, I was just about to offer my refusal when Alex said, “Hell yes!” Answering my surprised look, he continued, “Lizzie, when Roswell’s finest and highest rated chef offers to cook us a free meal – we most definitely do not say no!”

“I heard someone say, free meal?” Maria sailed in, a turquoise and green whirlwind her gaily patterned skirt, white t-shirt and tinkling bangles starkly contrasting with Isabelle’s understated glacial elegance. “Why chef Guerin and princess Isabelle! To what do we owe this honor?” Maria quipped giving both Alex and me quick kisses.

She tossed a “Hi girlfriend,” at Max and ruffled his hair.

The dynamic in the kitchen had suddenly changed. We became a little more relaxed and eased up. Halfway through my strawberry topped waffles I realized that I was part of a group. An ill-matched, odd assortment of people were sitting together having breakfast and talking. There were no awkward silences, no gaps in conversation, no searching glances…it was all surreally normal.

I suppose what surprised me the most was the interaction between Alex, Maria, Isabelle, Michael and to some extent Max. This breakfast, while certainly not routine, had definitely taken place before and the same people had been involved. The ease with which Michael had made breakfast, something special for everyone; the confidence with which Maria talked to Isabelle and the level of camaraderie between Max and Alex was palpable.

With a pang, I realized that I was the odd one out.

Wrapped up in my thoughts, I didn’t hear any of the conversation. I only looked up when I felt someone staring at me. Michael. Un-embarrassed at being caught, he continued to look at me thoughtfully. Not used to scrutiny and feeling the odd man out, I asked abruptly: “Did you want something?”

Mouth quirking upwards, he asked in his sandpaper voice, “What are you planning on doing now?”

“I’m sorry,” I replied confused.

Lacing his hands on the table, he explained. “It has been a while since you were last in Roswell, right? And Maria was saying you were working in Oxford, so I was just wondering what you were planning on doing now?”

Aware that the conversations had ceased and everyone was avidly listening to the both of us, I replied calmly. “I haven’t really thought about it. The will reading is on Friday. I’ll wait until then before making up my mind.”

Someone inhaled sharply, as Michael asked, “Why Friday?”

“Michael!” Isabelle hissed only to have him speak right over her.

“I mean,”

“I know what you mean Michael,” I said looking around the table. They were all looking at us, like spectators at a tennis match. All of them except Max Evans, who was staring into the contents of his coffee cup as if trying to read his future.

“I might have to do some things for my grandmother before I leave, and that might take some time.”

Maria laughed, “I told you, Alex.”

“Told him what?” I asked bewildered.

Resting his arm on the back of my chair, he leaned back. “She told me that you had already decided what you were going to do.”

“But, I haven’t.” I stammered. I really hadn’t thought that far ahead. All I knew was that nana had left something unfinished and I had to decide what I would do about it. The danger, the threat it implied, the rest of it … I guess that had all faded into the background. They knew me so well.

Feeling a small smile creep across my face, I pushed my hair back. “I always liked puzzles,” then a little more somberly, “anyway, I have to look for someone.” Michael just looked at me confused, while Alex rubbed my shoulder sympathetically.

At that Max stood up abruptly and pushed his chair back with a screech. Tossing, “I have work to do,” over his shoulder he strode out of the room. Meanwhile, Maria and I just stared at his back open-mouthed.

“What’s gotten into him?” She asked, Isabelle and Michael.

Grimacing Isabelle said, “Sorry about that – he’s usually not so rude. He’s had a headache for two days, and it was really paining him yesterday. I guess it still hurts.”

“Has he taken something for it?” Alex asked as he and Michael began clearing the table.

“You know Maxwell and medication,” Michael replied dryly, “He’s more the self-healing type.”

**************************************************

After breakfast, Michael and Maria went back to Roswell with Isabelle and Max had already disappeared for parts own. Curious about Grandma’s work, I asked Alex to take me to the Reservation, and we left shortly after 10:30 am.

I don’t know about anyone else but my understanding of archeology is mostly inspired by the Indiana Jones movies. I know it’s a shameful thing to admit, the granddaughter of an archeologist and I don’t know the finer points of archeology! In any event, the caves and the Reservation were quite different from what we see in the movies. First of all there was very little activity near the caves. Quite a bit away from the reservation, the only sign of human activity was the fence cordoning off the area and the bored looking guard sitting in the shade.

Pinning the visitor name card on my shirt, and after signing half a dozen confidentiality and release forms, I followed Alex into the caves. They were surprisingly dry and well lit. Strategically places torches lit up the dark and highlighted different wall sections.

“We grouped the writing into clusters,” Alex said leading me to a particularly large section in the middle of the cave. “I think, that each section tells us the same story but from a different character’s perspective.”

“How do you know? And what story is it?” I asked curiously.

Clearing his throat, Alex traced out three pictographs, “I think that these three symbols: the flute player, the bull and the unicorn are the three narrators. If you look at these three sections,” he pointed to the two walls furthest away from us, and the one closest to the cave mouth, “you’ll notice that each one of these three has prominence and experiences different events but they all end up in the same place, which is right here,” he concluded gesturing to the middle panel we were facing.

“These hieroglyphics and etchings are really difficult to decode. It’s a pretty complex language, and what makes it even more unusual is the fact that these very same drawings are found among the Anasazi and the Indus Valley civilization.”

Awestruck, I stared at the wall in front of me. Hundreds of thousands of years ago, a civilization had flourished here. Their remains hinted at a highly evolved culture, and society. Students of archeology were still amazed by how advanced these societies had been in mathematics, astronomy and linguistics. And yet, inspite of all their advancements, all three of these communities had disappeared without a trace. They had vanished into the dusty tomes of the past, as if they never were.

His voice soft with wonderment, Alex turned to me and said, “Can you feel it, Lizzie? Can you feel the past here – it is waiting to be reclaimed.”

I had never heard him speak so fancifully before. He was truly fascinated by tracking these peoples who had hidden themselves so well, that we had all but forgotten about them, given up on deciphering their secrets. But not Alex, in the end he had become what he had always loved, a detective. He loved solving their mysteries, understanding them. He wanted to appreciate them and give them recognition when no one else would. Just like Max, mind whispered to me.

Shaking off the spell his words had cast on me I nodded towards the section and asked him, “What do you think it says?”

Flushing a deep red, he stumbled, “I don’t really know.”

Charmed by his enthusiasm and embarrassment, I linked my arm through his. “Tell me your theory Alex.”

“If you tell anyone this Liz, I’ll be laughed out of existence!”

“I promise Alex, cross my heart and hope to die!” The childhood vow sprang to my lips as if I were seven instead of twenty-something. He joked, “You brought out the big guns with that one.”

Smiling, I nudged him to continue. “I really want to know, Alex.”

“Ok,” he sighed, unhooking his arm and scrubbing his hands over his face. “I think that the Anasazi, the Dravidians – who lived in the Indus Valley, and the original dwellers of these caves all belonged to the same tribe. Carbon estimates and site findings suggest that they were all around during the same time period, their cultures are highly similar as are their societies, and their languages and stories are nearly identically. However, I also think that there was no contact between the three of them until they all disappeared, which is where this wall section comes in.”

His voice grew stronger in the dim light of the cave. “The flute player, the unicorn and the bull are present in all three societies and feature in some of their most important stories. But, they never meet. This section is the only one of its kind that shows their meeting. It is also the only section to refer to a fourth symbol, which is not found anywhere else either.”

Caught up in his story, I asked, “Which one?”

He pointed to an oval section featured in the middle of the wall. In it, the flute player, the bull and the unicorn came towards a triangle from all three sides. But, it wasn’t just a triangle. No, it was actually three separate symbols clustered in the form of an inverted triangle. Horizontal straight lines representing earth were at the top, wavy horizontal lines representing water were below it, and the apex was filled with diagonal broken lines representing the sky.

“They look really familiar,” I mumbled more to myself than Alex. But he caught my sentence.

Giving me an unreadable glance, he said – “Aside from the triangle Liz, they are on Grandma Claudia’s front door and in your bedroom.”

Startled, I swung around to meet his eyes, “Oh my God! You’re right.”

“Yeah, I thought it was pretty cool, when I first saw it, you know? But now, I’m not so sure.”

Catching the uncertainty and self-deprecation in his voice, I said soothingly, “What don’t you know?”

Visibly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, he spoke abruptly. “Well, the symbol was enormously significant for at least three different civilizations, who by all accounts, should not have shared any similarities or come into contact with each other, but all three of them valued this symbol the most. It seems a shame that we’d use their most significant cultural icon as decoration.”

Pondering his comments, I asked, “I understand that it’s odd that these three communities share symbols and stories, but surely that’s common among other cultures as well?”

Leading me out of the cave, he answered vehemently. “But you see Liz it isn’t common to other cultures at all. No other archeological sites or civilizations have been as similar to each other as these three have. No other sites have revealed not only linguistic and pictographic structures but stories that they are virtually indistinguishable from each other. And finally, no other civilizations have disappeared in the exact same time period, unlike these three. But that’s not the weirdest part…”

“No,” I asked handing my visitors card back to the guard, “then what is?”

Turning to look at the caves, his mouth curving as it frequently did at the thought of a good mystery or a joke, “Anasazi means people from the sky, or the one’s who came before; Dravidians means, river people or water traveler, and some of the oldest tribes in the South West are known as earth wanderers.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, he chuckled. “Sky, water and earth – it almost makes you believe in aliens!”

Thank you for the feedback everyone. I hope you enjoy this next part.



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Chapter 10


References: Shakespeare


I say, there is no darkness but ignorance;
In which thou art more puzzled than the
Egyptians in their fog



I spent the remainder of the day pondering what Alex had said. And what nana, in her own way, had tried to tell me, except I wasn’t ready to listen…or was I?

Fanciful or not, it just seemed too coincidental that Alex would talk about aliens in a similar vein as nana. What was it that she had said that night in the canyon…something about aliens? No, it couldn’t be. But what did I know. Could I say anything for sure anymore? What was it that she always said there are more things in heaven and earth.

I just needed stop all this conjecture. I needed to focus on what I knew, which was abysmally little. Ok, think Liz. Focus. Apply your mind. Yes, that’s exactly what I needed to do. Caught up in my little pep talk, I didn’t notice where I was going and for the second time in over a week, I found myself in Max Evans’ arms. Except this time, this time they felt familiar, this time his eyes were seething with emotion, this time he let go of me almost as quickly as he had caught me.

“Sorry,” he said gruffly, putting me away from him.

He looked so unhappy and ill-at-ease that I couldn’t quash the rush of sympathy. We hadn’t talked since nana had died. Even at the funeral he had stood at a distance, away from the crowd, separate from his family, his sister and friends. He had cut a solitary figure. Solitary and curiously, determined. But now, he just looked tired.

Before he could disengage himself completely, I impulsively reached out and caught his wrist. Warm, vital, strong – the three adjectives raced through my mind, as I looked up at him and he stared down at my hand.

“I have to,” he started haltingly, but I stopped him.

“Please, don’t go. We haven’t had a chance to talk since nana…and I just wanted to, umm, could we talk?”

Entranced by the sensation of his firm wrist under my hand, I didn’t notice the extended pause that met my words. Have you ever really looked at a person? Maybe not look so much as notice a portion of their body and thought of how beautifully it represents them.

Looking at Max Evans’ wrist, I couldn’t help but uncurl his fingers and spread them out under my hand. He had tanned, long, well kept fingers. Capable hands with strong tendons, and calluses on his thumb and middle finger – I could see him sinking them into dirt and gently unearthing long hidden treasures. Yet, despite the physical nature of his work, they felt soft and smooth. Not a hint of dirt in sight. Immaculate, much like the man in question, I mused. They felt so warm to touch, almost hot but not unpleasantly so. It was a very curious sensation.

“Liz,” “Liz,” I heard someone calling my name.

Shaken out of my reverie, I look up at him dumbly, “huh?”

Golden heat flared in those eyes before dying to amber. Crinkling his eyes, he said apologetically, “If I promise not to run away and talk, can I have my hand back!”

Stung into furious embarrassment, I dropped his hand like a hot brick. Oh my god! What was I thinking? He must think me the biggest freak on the planet. First I didn’t talk to him for days and then I stand there mooning over his hand. Ugh!

Before I could stammer out some sort of incoherent apology, he spared me the agony. “I was just going to put some stuff away in my room. Umm, we can talk there.” He must have caught the look of horror on my face because he quickly amended his sentence, “Or, you know we could just sit outside on the back porch. It looks like a nice sunset.”

Grateful that he had taken the decision out of my hands, I simply nodded and moved towards the French windows, which opened into the backyard. Settling on the swing, I waited for him to return and tried to order my thoughts.

What would I say to him? All of a sudden the whole talk idea didn’t seem so great. What could I say…so Max Evans, I’m so sorry you miss my grandma but can you tell me why you lied about meeting her and what was your sister talking about this morning. Yeah! Very nice, Liz, really smooth. I could just see how well that conversation would go. I was still no closer to finding an appropriate way to accuse him of lying, when he returned carrying two glasses.

“Cherry coke?” He asked, extending a glass towards me. Grateful for something to help postpone the conversation, I accepted the glass thankfully.

He sat down sideways on the top stair across from me. Pulling up one knee, he extended his other leg over the stairs and looked completely at home. Swirling the coke in his glass, he asked “So, did you find the site interesting?”

Catching my raised eyebrows, he clarified, “The guard had mentioned visitors. We take security pretty seriously.”

“Right,” I nodded in understanding. Of course they did. He had said something similar earlier as well. I really needed to stop with the paranoia, not everyone was watching me all of the time. Shrugging off my dark mood, I replied cheerfully enough, “It was really great. Alex showed me the middle panel, and told me some of his theories. It is really fascinating!”

“Yeah, it is pretty terrific. Still, it’s good to know that you enjoyed it.” He replied his eyes brightening with enthusiasm, “Although with your background, I would have been surprised if you didn’t.”

I couldn’t hold back the chuckle at his inaccurate assessment. “Actually, shameful as it is, I really don’t know much about archeology except for what nana told me. I’m afraid most of my misinformation comes from Indiana Jones flicks!”

Mouth curving he replied, “Well, I don’t know about you but I can definitely see Alex wielding a whip and a cowboy hat!”

Grinning at the image, I couldn’t help but notice how much younger Max looked when he laughed. I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen him this relaxed, or open. For someone so young, he carried a mantle of authority, and power. Given his sister’s overwhelming personality, and I just knew Michael wasn’t much better, it was odd how quiet he was. Not someone you noticed, unless he wanted you to notice him. Despite that fact that he was so…

“What are you thinking?” He asked

“How good-looking but invisible you are,” I replied unthinkingly.

Gasping in horror, I clapped a hand over my mouth. What the hell was wrong with me! That was the second time in so many minutes, I had been caught staring at him and had said something stupid. What were the possibilities that the swing would upend me into a gaping hole in the ground and save me from an eternity of embarrassment?

Completely mortified, I just shut my eyes and kept a firm hand over my mouth. Any minute now, he would storm off. Any minute now, he would yell at me for being horrible and rude. Any minute now he would…start laughing?!

My eyes snapped open at the sound. What on earth was going on? Hand braced on the floor, he was laughing hysterically. Belly shaking laughs not the pained polite ones one heard when someone cracked a bad joke. But, genuine laughter full of mirth. Wiping his eyes, he tried to talk through his laughter, “Oh, Christ! That was…” as another wave of mirth shook him.

Not knowing what to make of his merriment, I simply watched him. When his laughter subsided, he choked out, “Sorry about that…”

I cut him off before he could get any further. “Oh, no, please I am so sorry. I don’t know what is wrong with me. Ever since I’ve returned, I’ve been…I mean, I don’t know…I am so sorry,” I trailed off, uncertain about how to continue and feeling vulnerable.

“Hey,” Max reached out with his hand and touched my knee, “really it’s ok. Don’t worry about it. You must think I am crazy but that was really very funny. Actually, I was laughing because Maria once said the same thing.”

Embarrassment forgotten, I said, “Really?”

“Yeah,” he snickered. “Actually she said,” then mimicking Maria perfectly he pursed his lips into a pout and spoke in a higher pitched husky note, “You know girlfriend, for a hottie you are really bland. I mean, honey, you have blending into walls down to an art form. It’s a real waste!”

His mimicry was so pitch perfect that I could almost visualize Maria saying that to him. Putting my glass down, I said, “Well now you know why we are friends, because she’s the one other person who’s more inappropriate than I am! You should see how horrified Alex looks when we get carried away.”

“I doubt that,” Max quipped, “I think you are underestimating your training.”

“Maria’s training actually,” I replied.

“Maria, of course,” he replied agreeably. Looking away towards the setting sun, he sighed, “I should have asked her to help train them.”

Catching the change of tone, I asked gently, “Isabelle and Michael?”

When he didn’t respond, I said, “that’s what I was thinking actually when I blurted out the whole good-looking but invisible comment!”

Still looking away, he asked, “What?”

Training my gaze on the back of his head, where his hair flicked the edge of his collar, I spoke mildly, “They both seem to have pretty strong personalities, not to mention their attractive. It would be hard to miss them in a room. But you,” I trailed off, “I mean, I’m sure you’ve seen yourself in a mirror and well, noticed how people react to you. It just seems odd that you are so low-key inspite of that and your, well, Michael and Isabelle.”

Max swiveled around to face me, and pulled his legs up. “Not quite a non-sequiter but it will do,” he mused.

Looking at me thoughtfully he spoke, “Well, maybe you could say that I am so…what was it you said…invisible because of the two of them.”

Wrinkling my brow, I said, “You mean, because they are so visible both in personality and looks you downplay yourself? But then how do you get anything done?”

Instead of answering my questions, he asked me one. “How would you say the three of you worked together?”

Surprised by the abrupt change in conversation, “I thought we were talking about you?”

“We are. But just think about it for a minute. How does Elizabeth Parker fit in with Alex and Maria?”

His question was intriguing, and I wanted to know where he was going with it. I tried to respond. “Well, Maria is pretty intense and emotional; Alex tends to cover his seriousness under flippancy and humor; and I…”

“And you?” Max said encouragingly.

“I’m pretty middle of the ground. Logical and fairly level-headed, I guess.”

“Exactly,” he exclaimed. “You are middle of the road because Alex and Maria offset each other and you balance them out just like they balance you out. They give you a different perspective. Izzy, Michael and I are like that as well. Izzy comes across as reserved and snooty,” a quick grin, “Michael is laconic and pragmatic, and I’m middle of the road, or at least try to be. We balance each other out. Although,” he shot me a quick sidelong glance, “not quite as smoothly as the three of you.”

Breaking the seriousness of the moment, Max continued light-heartedly, “or it could just be that I have a bossy older sister and I’ve discovered the key to getting my way.”

I laughed at the mischievous look on his face, “Which is?”

“Fly under the radar and do your thing, if caught either deny all knowledge or apologize!”

“And, is that what you do?” I asked comfortably.

It felt nice to just sit there and talk to him. We hadn’t talked much in school, except for our occasional lab related conversations. I had seen him often enough in the café, but somehow or the other we just never had a chance to connect. Now, as he sat there looking more approachable than before, keeping up a fun and undemanding conversation – I wondered why I’d never talked to him before? Maria and Alex liked him that much was obvious. I’d go so far as to say, that they were good friends. Perhaps it was time that I did the same.

Breaking my reverie, he asked, “What do you think?”

I looked at him for a moment then replied, “Do you always answer a question with a question?”

“Do you always avoid answering your own questions?” He responded with amusement. His face alight with laughter.

I shook my head in disbelief. He definitely knew how to play the game. “What was the question again?” I asked in a last ditch attempt to evade answering him.

“Tsk, tsk,” he made a wry sound in his throat, as he stood up and dusted his jeans. Max stretched and then moved to sit beside me on the swing. “You wouldn’t be trying to avoid the question now would you?”

“No, of course not, somehow I don’t you’d let me,” I sighed.

Trying to assemble my thoughts in some form of coherence, I started slowly. “I think that you have lots of protective covering, which you are really good at using. I think that like your father you are very confident and feel secure enough to do pretty much whatever you want to without making a fuss.”

Leaning in towards him, I whispered, “You know what else I think Max Evans?”

He quirked an eyebrow in silent inquiry as I continued, “I think that you let Isabelle and Michael feel that they can control or influence you when in actual fact they don’t. No one does.”

Looking abruptly serious, his voice deepened and he beckoned me forward. Curious I leaned in even further as he whispered, “I think that you might be right for the most part except for the influence bit but let’s just keep that between us.”

Eyes gleaming gold, “You know what I think Elizabeth Parker?”

Tilting my chin in response, my eyes closed as he placed a warm hand on my knee and his breath whispered past my face. “I think that maybe, just maybe, we can drop the last names!”

Surprised and amused by his comment my eyes fluttered open and I found myself trapped in his amber depths. Clear and warm, my image reflected back at me encircled by a golden halo. Feeling warm and short of breath, I jerked away, and grabbed the back of the swing just as he moved away from me.

I felt flustered. For a moment it seemed as if there had been…something. The waning light of day had seemed more golden than before. And just for one agonizing moment we had been framed by it, a dark haired man and a woman gilded by the setting sun. It had felt intimate.

Steadying myself, I stood up. He was still looking at me but not like before. The impenetrable wall of politeness was rapidly being rebuilt before my eyes. His eyes were cooling and gradually becoming distant. I couldn’t bear it and before I knew it I stood before him, hand outstretched,

“Hi, my name is Elizabeth Parker but my friends call me Liz.”

He looked at me in silence, and then his eyes warmed. His mouth curved in a faint smile and the elusive dimple appeared. Holding my hand in his warm clasp, he answered smoothly.

“Hi Liz! My name is Max.”

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