June 9th, 1990 The day I was dreading had arrived. Somehow, my week had flown by on silent wings, gliding past on sunshine and happiness. I felt as though I had only just arrived, that I had only just found the starting point. Dean and I were about to begin something wonderful, and it wasn't fair that Dean had to leave. It wasn't fair that we had only had four magical days together, and now he had to leave for the horrors of war. It made my stomach hurt. I sat on his bed, my arms wrapped around my legs, watching him pack. He had the door to the ocean open, and the salty air was making my hair ripple down my back. Despite the Florida sunshine and the warmth of the breeze, I felt cold. Dean carefully packed his dark green rucksack, placing his boots and clothing in the hard canvas with care. His slow, methodical movements were hypnotic, the muscles on his arms flexing and relaxing with an attractive rhythm. Maybe if I watched him long enough, his bag would never fill and he would nev
June 9th, 1990 The airport reared its ugly gray head all too soon. I swallowed down tears as a plane soared overhead, the jets rumbling through the air. Matt parked the car in the rental station, handing the keys over to a man in a red vest. Matt carried his bag like a suitcase to the check-in line, his big biceps flexed as he moved across the shiny floor. The moments seemed to blur together, my brain refusing to accept what was going on. I turned to see Tony walking up, his arm draped protectively around Kimberly. She had tears running down her face. The tissue balled in her palm was past its usefulness, but she kept wiping her nose with it anyway. Dean squeezed my hand, letting me go for a moment, as he checked his bag and picked up his ticket. The three men were ready to head to the gate in less time than I had hoped. I wanted every moment, every step, to take twice as long as it should because that would be twice as long that I could spend with Dean. We were at the gate all to
Two Years Ago I had to turn on the GPS guidance on my phone when I got into town. Everything was different, and even though the bar was still in the same spot, the buildings, and even the beach, were not. I finally found it, maneuvering the rental car into the quiet parking lot. What had once been the hottest disco bar in the small town was now a rundown country bar. Gravel and sand crunched under my feet as I headed up the rickety wooden steps toward the open door. It looked as though they had covered the open air portion of the bar. Bad country music blared out into the parking lot, the dim light from the bar glowing neon yellow and red. Inside, a girl with full tattoo sleeves leaned against the jukebox, feeding it quarters and singing along with the music. I could see where a fight had occurred earlier, a chair in pieces by the door. Several males were in a smoky corner, taking turns around a faded green pool table, but I wasn't there for them. I was there for the long-legged ma
June 16th, 1990 I stumbled into my apartment, dropping the stack of bills on my kitchen table. They merged seamlessly with the other bills and junk mail, all waiting for me to be responsible and look at them. Nothing I was hoping for had come in the mail. I closed the door and kicked off my shoes, letting my toes stretch out and relax. I had been home for a week and was missing the beach terribly. No, I didn't miss the beach. I missed Dean. Six days, eight hours, and thirty-seven minutes since I had seen him last. And I had no idea how to fill the hole that was growing in my heart. I leaned back against the door, closing my eyes and remembering his face. Maybe a letter would come tomorrow. I had sent one off two days ago, carefully checking and then double-checking the address. It had been hard to write, not knowing where to start and then not knowing where to curb my words. I wanted to tell him that he was all I could think about, that I would wait for him to come back if he wanted
June 20th, 1990 I gripped my sketchbook tightly, making sure for the third time that I still had the designs from the night before. I had no idea what Mrs. Saunders looked like, how far along in her pregnancy she was, or what her build might be. I had sketched out a couple more maternity designs, but without meeting her, I didn't want to create too many, but I needed enough to impress. Mr. Martinez walked calmly in front of me, easily navigating the huge apartment building as we headed toward what he called "Mrs. Saunders' sun-room". The apartment was huge; bigger than what I would consider a house. I had a feeling the oil business, at least for the Saunders and DS Oil and Gas, was doing well. I was trying my very best not to be overwhelmed by everything, and I felt like I was doing a pretty good job. Mr. Martinez and I had arrived by a private plane and then drove straight into the city to the Saunders' household. I couldn't wait to go out and explore the city after my interview.
June 20th, 1990 Down at street level, I got into the waiting car and stared out the window. The driver was silent as I headed back to my hotel, and my mind was on designs rather than the giant buildings when something caught my eye. A young boy, about five or six years old, was walking resolutely along the sidewalk. He stopped, setting down a brightly-wrapped present, and pulled out an oversized map, his small face frowning as he tried to read it. The boy obviously was trying to get somewhere to deliver the gift, but I couldn't see an adult with him. I watched him for a moment as we sat at a light, wondering why he looked vaguely familiar. I gasped as it hit me where I had seen the boy before. He was the laughing child in the pictures on Mrs. Saunders' wall. His mother would be worried sick if she knew he was out on the streets of New York by himself. "Stop the car!" I shouted, unbuckling my seat-belt and practically lunging for the door. The driver looked back at me in surprise, b
Present Day The drive was just as awkward as I was afraid it was going to be. I drove carefully, heading down the highway to the small town on the Atlantic coast. The county jail was only a couple of blocks from the marina. I had, unfortunately, been there to pick Robbie up for public intoxication. Twice. The hospital was only a few streets down from that; luckily, I had never been there, but it would be easy enough to find. Dean sat comfortably in the passenger seat, his long legs crossed as he looked out the window. We had started out making polite conversation, remarking on the weather- it was supposed to rain later- and how the football season was going. Neither one of us really had the time to follow sports, so that was a short conversation. I didn't really want to discuss the current situation with Dean, and anything regarding the Saunders family was dangerous due to Daniel's condition. Our usually easy conversations, just didn't seem to flow. Our minds were elsewhere. As a re
Present Day I pulled into the parking lot attached to an old wooden building with small windows that looked exactly like a small town police station in the movies. Dean sat quietly for a moment, as if debating saying something. Inside the darkened glass door with white lettering, I could see a man in a grayish tan uniform sitting at a desk filling out paperwork. "I'll get the paperwork started while you're at the hospital. I'll call if we finish before you," Dean said. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something more, but instead changed his mind, pushing his lips together and opening the car door. I watched him walk into the station, his movements full of an unconscious deadly grace that can only come with years of practice. His hands opened the door, and I remembered how they had felt on my cheek. I took a deep breath. I couldn't think about that kiss right now, the way his hand cupped my jaw, the sweetness of his tongue... Stop it! You have work to do! I chided myself.
Emma smiles at me. She fixes my veil one last time, making sure it is still on straight, then smooths the hair curling gently around my shoulders. She says something about weddings, and I smile automatically. My mind isn't on her. It's on the person waiting for me at the end of the stone pathway. Dean is waiting for me. She fusses with Jack's tie, making sure that it, too, is on straight. He gives her a warm smile and shoos her out of the house. I can hear her heels clicking on the steps as she hurries to the garden to tell them we're ready to begin. I feel like I'm going to float away I'm so happy. I wonder how it is possible for any one person to brim with so much joy to the point of overflowing, yet here I am, barely able to contain myself. Dean is waiting for me. Jack takes my hand, placing it in the crook of his arm as we start to walk out the main doors. I remember my flowers at the last moment and I pull myself free to grab them. I grasp them tightly as I give my hand back t
Present Day The afternoon sun transformed the world into a kaleidoscope of orange and red as it filtered through the autumn leaves. Dean sat in the garden on a wrought iron bench, his eyes closed as he looked toward the sun. He reminded me of a cat, sitting there soaking up the last rays of warmth before winter. I stood for a moment under the rustling leaves, just admiring him. He was so handsome. His dark hair ruffled in the fall breeze, the wind mussing it like a lover's caress. His jaw was strong and smooth, his back tall and straight. Even after all this time, he still made my heart pound in my chest like a nervous school girl's. He was everything I could ever ask for; everything I could ever want. The leaves crackled under my feet as I followed the stone pathway to the bench. Dean opened one eye just enough for a sliver of blue to peek out, but then he closed it. His face remained impassive. I smiled at him, even though he couldn't see it. I felt like I might vibrate out of my
Present Day The Saunders clan sat quietly in the parlor. Emma and Jack were on an old-fashioned love seat, Emma's head resting on Jack's shoulder. Robbie stood beside them, staring out the window, his hands behind his back. Several employees and close staff huddled in a group by the corner, solemn and quiet like a silent flock of black birds. I stood next to Bianca, who sat stiffly in a blue wing-backed chair. Her hair was perfect, her makeup unsmudged, but I knew inside she was screaming with loss. A lawyer fumbled with long sheets of paper at the head of the room, preparing to read the will. Daniel had only been dead for less than a day, but it was per his wishes that the will be read now. I swallowed my tears down. Now that I was here, Daniel's death was real again. For a few blessed moments with Dean, my heart forgot to hurt. Now it just ached as though it were making up for the missed time. Bianca's brown eyes stared blankly at the room. I knew she didn't see the people there,
Present Day The rest of the day was a blur. All I felt was pain, the gray shadows of memory taunting me with Daniel's life. He had been my friend, my father, and my employer. Despite months of preparation, it had come too soon. His absence left a hole in my heart that could never be filled. The doctor entered the room, checking Daniel's limp wrist for a pulse. Bianca clung to him, her eyes shut as she willed him to still be alive. The doctor carefully worked around her, performing the necessary checks before quietly leaving the room. He put his hand on Jack's shoulder as he left, murmuring the words, "I'm sorry," he said, and Jack nodded, but I don't think he actually heard him. His eyes were glued to the bedroom, tears silently running down his face. Upon the doctor's apology, Robbie stood. He stared at those of us in the doorway for a moment before taking off down the stairs. I heard the front door slam, but I let him go. A minute later, I could hear the roar of an engine as he d
Present Day I pulled my hair up into a bun as Dean parked the car in front of the Saunders' mansion. Even from here I could tell something was wrong. The feeling of a string about to be cut vibrated out of the house. Dark shadows cast up onto the porch, the autumn morning sun still cold. I shivered and pulled a sweater up around my shoulders. I stepped out of the car, making sure my shirt hung straight. I always carried a change of clothes in my car. In my line of work, you never knew when you would be stuck at the office overnight. Or sleeping at your boyfriend's place for the first time. Emma hurried out to greet us. She ran barefoot across the wet grass, the hem on her pants growing darker with every step. She hugged her arms around her, keeping herself warm as well as from falling apart. Tear stains already streaked her face. She didn't even bat an eyelash at the fact that we had arrived together, instead grabbing my hand and hurrying me toward the house. "What happened, Emma?
Present Day I woke up the next morning to find that Dean was already out of bed. The room seemed empty without him. I glanced at the painting on the nightstand, the woman still defiant against the storm after all these years. It made me smile that he had kept it. The floor was cold to my bare feet as I stumbled into the bathroom. Sitting on the toilet seat was a clean pair of sweats and a plain gray t-shirt. I slid the comfortable clothing on, rolling the waist band to keep the pants up. The shirt smelled like Dean, and I breathed it in, enjoying the scent. I giggled as I realized there was no way he was going to get this t-shirt back. Well, maybe, when it lost that wonderful smell and needed refreshing. The rest of the apartment was quiet, but I found a pot of coffee ready with a note in Dean's messy handwriting. Good morning Beautiful, I didn't want to wake you, but I'm getting breakfast. Creamer's in the fridge. I love you. I folded the note and stuck it in my pocket. Even t
Present Day I had intended to go to a rustic Italian restaurant just a few miles from the Saunders' mansion. I had intended to walk in, sit down, eat lasagna and tiramisu, have a glass of wine, and then head back and take a long hot shower. That was what I had intended. Instead, I was standing in front of Dean's apartment building. I could see a light coming from his corner unit, the yellow window shining cheerfully into the dark night. The wind blew across the yard, rattling the remaining leaves on the trees and making the fallen ones skitter across the sidewalk. The moon hung low, orange and full against the night sky. I was about to go back to my car, to drive to that little restaurant and actually do what I was supposed to do, but the memory of that kiss pulled at me. Now that we had kissed, even just once, I wanted more. Before I even knew what I was doing, my hand was knocking at his door. I looked down at the brave appendage in shock, wondering what the hell I was thinking.
Present Day Robbie passed me as I walked down the hallway toward Daniel's room. His eyes were still rimmed with red, and his lips were pursed together as he walked the ornate carpet, his mind lost in thought. I don't think he even saw me as he paced back and forth down the long hallway. I wasn't sure he had even been in to see his father since we had brought him home, but at least he was in the house. I knocked softly before entering the large room that had become Daniel's infirmary. A large hospital bed took up the center of the room, an oxygen tank and an IV pole tucked carefully beside them. Bianca sat in a large easy chair in the corner, her feet tucked up under her as she typed on her laptop. I could hear soft classical music, playing softly in the background. Knowing Daniel, it was probably Mozart. Daniel sat propped up in the bed, pillows and blankets tucked tightly around him. His pale face was so gaunt that his eyes seemed to sink into his paper thin skin. I remembered the
Present Day I parked carefully in front of the police station, making sure I was evenly between the two lines. Just because Dean said he knew the sheriff, I didn't want to push my luck. I just wanted to get Robbie out with as little fanfare as possible and get him home to see his father. The door chimed softly as I walked in. It was a small building, barely more than a room and an office, with two barred cells along the back wall. Sitting in one of them was a very dejected-looking Robbie. He glanced up as I came in, and then put his head back in his hands to stare at the floor. Dean was leaning up against the chest-high wooden monstrosity of a desk, talking with a man in a crisp tan uniform. "How were things at the hospital?" Dean asked, and all three men looked up to hear my answer. "Samantha's doing fine. She's agreed not to press charges," I stated. I heard a low sigh of relief come from the cell. "May I talk with Robbie?" "Yes, ma'am, you may. Dean and I here just have a few