"like sands through the hourglass so are the...Days of our Lives"

Christyne's

"The Teens" Fan Fiction Site

Saturday, November 27th, 1943

A ribbon of morning sunlight crept across Carrie’s bed having gained entry via the tiny opening between the curtains where they didn’t quite overlap. Beginning at the foot of the bed, the bright rays steadily moved across the coverlet until they rested on the closed eyes of the bed’s inhabitant. Lifting her head higher up the pillow and away from the covers proved to be only a temporary evasion of nature’s gentle but persistent alarm clock.

Seven minutes later those same sunbeams once again located Carrie’s face. Slowly she rolled from her left side until she lay on her back. While leaving behind her restful slumber, Carrie stretched her limbs languidly and sufficiently enough to make a feline mistake her for a relative if they’d been in the room. Her eyelids slowly lifted taking in the bright beginning of a new day. Like a curtain rising presents the audience with the setting for the next act, so Carrie’s eyes took in the beautiful hint of the day to come. Everything told her this "play" was going to be a hit.

Turning her head to the left where the night table stood, she was surprised to see the clock read 8:45am. Though the events of the previous evening were the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her, Carrie has nonetheless fallen asleep somewhere between the time she climbed into bed and her head had hit the pillow.

Continuing her leisurely awakening Carrie’s other senses detected this morning in no way resembled the previous one. There was no aroma of coffee brewing in the kitchen. No sound of running water for a shower or shave could be heard in the bathroom whose one wall was commonly shared with one in her bedroom. As she slowly sat up in bed, Carrie realized the sunlight had misrepresented the room’s temperature. Even wearing a peach-colored, long-sleeved flannel nightgown gathered at the cuffs with lace couldn’t keep a chill from running through her body.

Though the bed coaxed her to remain in its warm embrace, Carrie pushed back the covers and rose to stand on her sock-covered feet. She briskly ran her hands up and down her arms to ward off the cold as she walked to the drawstring for the curtains opening them to allow more light and, hopefully, warmth into her bedroom. Taking a quick look outside she could see people walking along talking to one another – their breath visible as they did so and bundled up in sufficient layers of sweaters, scarves, mittens and hats to keep the cold from chilling them to the bone.

Maybe we ought to wait awhile before going skating today the way Mike plans. Nothing like being out on ice when it’s already below freezing. How did I let him talk me into this? That’s simple, Carrie. You’d go anywhere, do anything just to be with him - - you always have. When you were a kid he’d see you sitting on the porch and ask if you wanted to walk with him to the store to get a couple of things for his grandmother. To him, it was an errand – to you, it was a date. You had him all to yourself – talking about any and everything for the four blocks it took to get to the market and back.

A smile slowly spread across Carrie’s face and a deep sigh escaped her at the memory. Turning from the window she reached for her quilted satin robe in the same peach tone as her nightgown and pulled it on. Approaching the bedroom door she stopped and once again listened for signs of life beyond it. There was nothing but silence save for the street noises coming from behind her that drifted up to her second floor apartment.

She crept forward, turned her head aside and listened with her ear planted firmly against the door – not a sound. Furrowing her brow in concern Carrie slowly turned the doorknob and inched the door open squeaking it on its hinges in the process. Opening it just wide enough she stuck her head around to peer to the right down the hallway in the direction of the bathroom first and then left toward Jennifer’s bedroom. There was no hint of life in either direction. Carrie also realized that unlike Friday morning, the rest of the apartment was as cold as her room. Mike had turned the heater on when he’d gotten up the day before.

Opening her bedroom door the remainder of the way, she tiptoed to the left down the hall and toward the arch leading into the living room. Just as she came parallel with the entry to the large room, Carrie suddenly felt fearful.

What if Mike wasn’t there? What if he’d realized last night after she’d gone to bed that what had happened wasn’t something he wanted – that he didn’t want her – not even as a friend, any more? Would he have been too embarrassed to face her, maybe wanting to spare her the truth he’d left without saying anything? Perhaps he’d left her a note explaining his reason for ending something before it went any further. She had to go into the living room to look for it – there was no way around that. Taking a deep breath, drawing herself upright and stepping into the doorway, Carrie began to face what she knew had happened.

Her eyes scanned the piano, desk, fireplace mantle and dining table for a white envelope with her name on it, as she stood rooted to the throw rug that cushioned her feet. If Mike did leave a note before he made his getaway, he didn’t leave it in a usual place someone would look for it.

How stupid could you be, Carrie? You let one, okay - two kisses go to you head. You idiot – when are you ever going to understand Mike will never be what you want him to be in your life? Why couldn’t you just be content with having him be your best friend? No, you had to take one simple, little interlude and turn it into a "happily ever after". If I were Mike, I’d walk…no, run, too. It’s time to grow up, Carrie, and leave the fairy tales with the beguiling maidens and handsome knights in shining armor behind in your childhood where they belong. Reality is a place you ought to visit more regularly where Mike’s concerned. If I were you I’d…

In the middle of her self-berating tirade, Carrie heard an unfamiliar sound. Listening intently she attempted to identify it but the sound was gone. Taking another step into the room she heard it again, then…again. It was intermittent and soft – familiar and yet unfamiliar. She stealthily headed in the direction from where she believed it was emanating.

Vision blurred somewhat from unshed tears, Carrie blinked sending a small trickle of salty water down her cheek. The noise was closer. Her heart nearly stopped when at last she identified it. Mike was lightly snoring as he slept on the couch - - right where he should be. Almost unbelieving it could be so Carrie had to see with her own eyes Mike’s somnambulant form before another minute went by. She gradually approached the couch and peered over the back to see him with his mouth slightly open as he lay on his back. That was what caused the snoring – that wonderful, wonderful sound. Half the quilt, afghan and sheet were on the floor covering only his legs and right foot. His left foot, arms and torso were exposed to the cold of the apartment. The fire had long since gone out in the fireplace that he’d stared into as he drifted to sleep the previous night.

Carrie leaned over the couch and started to lift the covers back over Mike’s chilled body when a hiccup escaped her – the kind she had whenever she cried. Mike’s snoring stopped as he lifted his eyelids lazily. Though not completely focused his blue eyes gazed into her gray-green eyes dead on.

"Good morning."

"Good morning, Mike."

"What time is it?"

"Ummm, it’s just after nine o’clock."

"Nine o’clock?"

"Yeah. I only woke up about fifteen minutes ago, myself. I came in here and heard you snoring. I saw the covers had slid off and was just trying to put them back over you when you woke up. It’s cold in here. I should go turn the heater on and take the chill off the apartment."

"I must be getting used to this couch. I slept like a log when I did go to sleep." All this was spoken as Mike interjected a yawn or two involuntarily emphasizing how well he had slept.

"I better go turn up the thermostat."

"Carrie, what’s wrong?"

"Nothing…I’m just cold."

Trying to turn her face from Mike’s critical stare, Carrie started to head for the wall where the thermostat was located. It would give her time to pull herself together after imagining the worst and being rewarded by the best sight of her life. Mike deftly and firmly grabbed her lower right arm with his left hand.

"Carrie…Carrie…look at me. What’s going on? Are you crying?"

"No."

"Yes, you are and I want to know why."

"It’s nothing---it’s silly, really."

"Nothing’s silly to me if it makes you cry – especially if I’m the one who made you cry. Am I?"

"No."

"Okay, then tell me who or what is."

"Mike, I…I…" Her mouth kept forming words but they wouldn’t come forth.

"Come here…come here…come here, Carrie." Each time Mike said the words it was in a softer tone coaxing her with his voice as he sat up on the couch making a place for Carrie to sit in front of him. Never loosening his hold on her arm she gave in and came around behind him to sit perpendicular to him with her head bowed.

"Hey…hey, look at me and tell me what’s wrong." As he spoke Mike lifted her chin up and turned it until she faced him. He wasn’t about to let her off the hook no matter how she protested by merely being silent. She had his full and undivided attention although it was the last thing she wanted at the moment. "I’m waiting. I have no intention of going anywhere until you talk to me. I mean it, Carrie."

Looking into his face proved to be her emotional undoing. The sobs started, tears ran uninhibited and still Carrie couldn’t talk.

"Oh, God. This is about last night, isn’t it? I knew it. I knew it! I couldn’t go to sleep until almost four this morning thinking about you - wondering if I’d overstepped the bounds of our friendship by kissing you. I’ve just wanted to so badly since that night at the USO when I first saw you. I kept telling myself, ‘Mike, she’s your best friend and best friends don’t feel what you’re feeling for her’ but I didn’t listen. I had to destroy everything by letting my emotions get the better of me. I’m so, so sorry, Carrie."

"No, Mike – it’s not you. It’s me."

"No, I take full blame for this."

"Mike, for Pete’s sake, don’t be so noble. I love that about you but sometimes I hate that quality of yours, too."

"Hey, wait a minute."

"No, you can’t take the blame for this. I’m the one who brought it on myself. When I got up this morning there was no coffee smell, no sound of the shower running, the apartment was cold. On just little things like that, I convinced myself that you’d made up your mind you didn’t want to see me anymore and that you’d left without saying anything because you couldn’t stand to look at me. I came in here to look for a note from you to that affect and that’s when I heard you snoring. You hadn’t left and I felt so guilty for thinking the worst of you."

Finishing her entire explanation in several long breaths with an occasional crying hiccup, Carrie started crying again in earnest.

Staring at her in total puzzlement Mike asked, "Why would I leave you? Last night was the beginning of something different, but wonderful between us or don’t you feel that way?"

"I do…I do feel that way. Okay, I never thought I’d tell you this but the time has come. Mike, I’ve had feelings for you since I was ten years old."

"You what?"

"Don’t laugh, please? When Dad and Marlena moved in next door to your grandparents, that’s when it started. I’d see you and Jenn come visit them all the time. I was so glad when Jenn and I became friends just because I liked her so much. Even though you were older than we were, you always took time to talk and listen to us. I developed a big crush on you then. As I got older the feelings changed but they never went away– they get stronger every time I see you. Have you ever wanted something so badly for so long that finally, when it comes to you, you can’t believe it’s true? Well, that’s what’s happened to me. I used to kiss my hand, my dolls even my pillow at night pretending it was you. Last night, I didn’t have to pretend. This morning I just naturally assumed the worst because I’m afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"That just because I want to love you, you may not want to love me…that just because I want you, you may not want me."

"Wow. I had no idea about how long this has been going on for you. You know, I’ve had this…feeling that I wanted to be more than friends. I think the first time was at your twenty-first birthday party. When I saw you sitting at the table with Austin, I was a little jealous but I didn’t have any right to be."

"You were? I remember that night so well. Watching you walk into the Penthouse Grille in that tuxedo. You gave me two presents that night I’ve never forgotten."

"Two? I remember the pearl pendant. I notice you wear it all the time."

"I never take it off. The other was the dance we had. It was just the two of us on the dance floor."

"I do remember it. Carrie. I still think we need to take this new direction in our relationship slowly."

"Okay, I’m just glad we have a relationship to work on slowly or otherwise." A smile broke across Carrie’s face. She had one last shuddering sob – which always indicated the end of her crying sessions.

"Well, I’d say this was quite a morning and it’s only 9:25. Can’t wait to see what the rest of the day is like."

They broke into laughter and Mike finished by pulling Carrie to him for a light kiss on the mouth.

"Carrie, I’m not going anywhere until tomorrow night when I head back to Fort Dix. I want to spend time with you and get used to us being beyond friends."

"I’d like that."

"It is freezing in here. At least you’ve got a bathrobe on."

"I’ll go turn on the heat. Tell you what - I’ll go take my shower and get ready first. That way if you want you can sleep a little longer. I’ll make breakfast and you can get ready. How about it?"

"Sounds like a plan. You aren’t planning to back out on the ice skating at Rockefeller Center, are you?"

"No, but if you think it’s cold in here you don’t know what’s in store outside. Don’t say I didn’t warn you."

Practically bounding across the room, Carrie turned on the heat and watched Mike snuggle back under the covers to catch a little nap.

She took a hot shower enjoying its warmth over her body and reliving the conversation that had taken place. She believed had Mike and she not been best friends, they might never have felt the ease to speak so honestly from the heart with one another. It was a good basis to begin building upon.

Carefully she combed her hair over the sensitive bump she still had on her head from the previous day’s kitchen incident pulling her hair into a ponytail and then applying her make up. She chose gray wool pants to keep her legs warm particularly from the ice in the rink, a heavy wool hot pink sweater she wore over a white, lightweight turtleneck and had socks the same shade as the pink sweater to wear with her black penny loafers.

She headed for the kitchen to make breakfast rattling pans as she prepared to make scrambled eggs. "Mike, time to get up. Are you still sleeping?"

"Yes, especially since you went into the kitchen."

"I thought so. I left you hot water for a shower and shave. Get going"

After another five minutes, she heard the shower and went in to fold up the linens on the sofa. This was becoming a familiar routine – she liked it.

Breakfast was eaten accompanied by lively conversation about where to have lunch. It was decided Mike needed a food "adventure". Never having eaten at a New York delicatessen, Ratner’s would be their destination after the ice skating to indulge in cuisine foreign to a Salemite.

Carrie donned her white mittens and earmuffs and the duo headed for the ferry ride to Manhattan. Getting to the rink, they rented skates and sat beside one another to lace them up. Once Mike had his on he pulled the laces extra tight on Carrie’s to support her ankles.

"All right, ready?"

"As I’ll ever be. Promise not to let me make a fool of myself out there?"

"I told you, I won’t let you fall on you face. Come on."

Mike headed for the rink and skated around a couple of times as Carrie inched her way to the edge. Mike came back and took her hands in his as he skated backwards leading her on to the ice. It was slow at first but Carrie began to relax and enjoy herself. Mike was right, lacing up the shoes did make her have an easier time keeping the blades on the ice properly. Her confidence grew until Mike slowly let go of her hand, skating beside her rather than in front.

"Eat your heart out, Sonja Henie. Carrie, you’re doing great!"

"I don’t know about that but at least I’m still in an upright position. Okay, let me try to skate without you holding my hand. It’s not that I don’t love holding your hand but I’m feeling I’m ready to move up another notch."

"Well, okay - - there you go."

Mike released her hand at the same time Carrie pushed one skate forward. As cold as the wind was it felt invigorating moving across the ice. She pushed the right skate and gained a little more momentum. Mike stayed at what he thought was a discreet distance behind her just to keep an eye on her by serving as her "spotter". Neither Mike nor Carrie saw the length of lace that hung down beside the inside of her left boot. As she extended the left skate again, the lace caught underneath the skate bringing her stride to an abrupt halt and throwing her off balance.

Unaware he was a little closer behind her than he should have been for the speed Carrie was going, once she stopped instantly Mike plowed into her. He grabbed her around the waist as both lost their balance and fell backward onto the cold, hard surface. They skidded another six feet before coming to a halt. Looking back at Mike with a glare that was icier than the rink, Carrie said nothing. Clearing his throat Mike gave Carrie a quick smile.

"I told you I wouldn’t let you fall on your face." Mike then wiggled his eyebrows.

Ever since she’d known him, trying to stay mad at Mike was impossible whenever he did the "eyebrow wiggling" thing. As dozens of others skated past them, they sat on the ice and began to laugh. Several attempts were necessary before they could bring composure to themselves.

"Did we crack the ice anywhere?"

"Nope, just a dent at the impact site. A little water poured into it and after it freezes over no one will notice."

"Mike, you have to get up first or I’ll have to send change of address cards ‘cause this is where I’ll be from now on. I can’t get up unless you pull me up."

"Okay, slide forward a little or just let me push you a foot or so."

Mike was soon on his feet and helping Carrie do the same. They skated a few more times around the rink, Carrie mostly leaning on Mike.

"Carrie, I think it’s getting colder out here. I’m starting to have trouble forming words my lips are so frozen, they’re numb."

"I wish my lips were the only thing that was frozen to numbness if you get my meaning."

"Oh, yeah – same here."

Calling it an afternoon they skated off the ice. Actually, Mike skated – Carrie leaned on Mike. Returning the rented skates they headed to Ratner’s for lunch. Working up an appetite on the ice in the cold, they order a little of several things. Latkes, a Rueben sandwich for Carrie and a corned beef on rye for Mike each with a kosher dill pickle, blintzes on the side. Everything was good. Mike promised they’d be back to try other items again.

They wandered about looking in shop windows getting preliminary ideas for Christmas gifts to send back home. Carrie had already decided to stay in New York letting Jennifer go back to Salem with Jack in tow since both wouldn’t be allowed vacation at the same time from the newsroom. Mike had already volunteered to stay and work at the hospital though he would have two days at Christmas on furlough.

With each degree the sun dropped in the western sky, the temperature did likewise. It was the coldest evening of the holiday weekend yet and it started to snow. While skating Mike and Carrie hadn’t even noticed the gray clouds move in. They headed back to the apartment for warmth and dry clothes. The ice had dampened their clothes and they still hadn’t completely dried before the snow started falling. Once inside the apartment they scurried about to warm the place up.

"Mike, while I change would you build a fire? I’ll start the coffee and get you a towel to dry your hair." Put the coats, mittens and scarves on the hearth to dry them."

"Sure. How about listening to some radio shows tonight. "The Whistler, "Gangbusters", "Fred Allen", "Fibber McGee" and "Suspense" are on tonight. We’ll just sit in the front of the fire, throw the afghan over us, cuddle and listen."

"It’s a date."

Along with the coffee, Carrie brought out the bag of large marshmallows and an old-fashioned long-handled, metal popcorn popper designed for use over a fireplace. Still somewhat full from the late lunch, snacking seemed the order of the evening. They toasted the marshmallows on coat hangers and once they had the popcorn done, Mike tuned on the radio and found the station for the broadcasts. He piled up the cushions on the couch while Carrie got the afghan from the closet. Mike was already lying back on the soft with arms stretched wide to receive Carrie.

She refilled the coffee cups, settled back against Mike spoon fashion and threw the afghan over them. Munching popcorn they listened to the shows one after another. The last program was a live broadcast of music from a remote at the Aragon Ballroom in California, Santa Monica to be exact, with the music of Harry James. Listening to the music Carrie drifted off against Mike’s chest.

Gazing at her face in the firelight he couldn’t remember when he’d had a more wonderful day, except maybe tomorrow. He kissed her nose, forehead and mouth causing her to stir but not awaken. Mike wrapped his arms more tightly around her and was asleep himself before he knew it with his chin resting on the top of her head – away from the infamous bump.

Mike’s built-in, army-trained alarm clock went off. Involuntarily his eyes opened and he saw it was early enough that the apartment remained in darkness. Even the sun was still in bed at this hour. Unlike Friday night he had slept soundly. Rather than dozing off for a few minutes only to awaken repeatedly throughout the night, he had slept dreamlessly for what felt to be at least five hours.

The last conscious memory he’d had was hearing Harry James play a trumpet solo to "Sleepy Time Gal" from the remote broadcast in California. What an appropriate song it had been. Carrie had fallen asleep snuggled against Mike’s chest exhausted from her "debut" in the Rockefeller Center ice follies - emphasis heavily placed on the latter word.

Minutes before with the firelight painting golden streaks in her hair and lying in Mike’s embrace on the couch facing him with the afghan over them, she’d been talking about how she liked this song and kept meaning to buy the seventy-eight. The live version they were listening to was longer than the recording. At the conclusion Mike mentioned they should go buy the record on Sunday. No response came from Carrie. Mike gently pulled his chin back from the top of her head to better look at her face. She lay with her right cheek against his chest, left arm about his waist and dead to the world. Carrie would be sorry she’d missed the smile that crept across Mike’s face as he stared wondrously at the sleeping form of a girl who’d been his best friend and had somehow miraculously transformed into the woman he was falling in love with. Before long, Mike joined Carrie in a comfortable, undisturbed sleep on the sofa with his arms enfolding her.

Now, the remaining flames of the large fire he’d built several hours ago continued to bathe the living room in a golden light, the only light, while warming the room through the two vents on the sides of the fireplace. Occasionally a loud "pop" would burst from one of the two biggest logs as they burned. Some nearly rivaled a firecracker decibel level but Carrie slept on undisturbed.

Mike soothingly rubbed his left hand up and down her back. The sound took him back in time to a Brady/Horton Fourth of July cookout he had hadn’t thought about in years when he was twenty-one and Carrie fifteen.

Earlier in the day of the Fourth of July picnic Roman had gone to the Red Devil stand and bought rosettes, pinwheels, sparklers, cherry bombs, fountains, Roman candles and to the delight of Eric and his cousin, Shawn D – firecrackers. If one used enthusiasm as a single criteria, it would have been difficult to distinguish the children from the adults when Roman returned to the house.

There was a reception committee of assorted Hortons and Bradys as he pulled into the driveway. Everyone wanted to know what he’d bought to liven up the evening. All gazed with rapt attention as Roman displayed the various items he’d bought after pulling the two gigantic boxes from the back of the station wagon. Shawn Brady kept the children somewhat at bay and volunteered to help take the boxes to the screened-in back porch of Roman’s house.

There the two men evenly divided the variety of fireworks into equal groups and further divided them based on the type. Younger children basically had sparklers in various colors while the older adolescents had the rosettes, fountains and firecrackers in addition to sparklers. Bo, Shawn, Roman, and John would set off the cherry bombs and Roman candles as well as providing strict supervision for all the items the children handled.

Mike, home from college for the summer, had been helping his grandmother set up and decorate the tables as well as organize the food onto those same tables as the guests began arriving in her backyard. From the corner of his eye he noticed more than once there was one person who seemed completely disinterested in the commotion around the fireworks- - Carrie.

She lurked behind the line of kids as they pushed forward to get a look into the boxes Roman had brought. Occasionally, she would cast a glance at the children’s faces smiling at their delighted expressions over their share of the pyrotechnical loot but she never once ventured a look into the boxes. Mike soon wondered if Carrie had an aversion to them accounting for her behavior.

Before long there were swarms of Bradys, Hortons and all manner of friends filling the air with the buzz of lively conversation and laughter in the backyard. Mike forgot about the incident as he helped serve as host along with the rest of the Hortons and Bradys for the remainder of the afternoon and early evening.

As darkness began to blanket the sky, the children bombarded the adults as to when they could start setting off the fireworks. Every five minutes seemed to be the interval for finding Bo or John, in particular, since they were by far the biggest "kids" of the adults. It was well known among the younger set they would give in first and let them start earlier than the plan called for.

Hope and Marlena each gave their man that traditional "stare" letting them know they shouldn’t be giving in to the children’s anticipation as well as their own again. Bo and John each took the facial admonishment and shake of the head from the women they loved, smiled, went to the porch and began handing out the allotted packages to the children as they lined up. In no time the section of street directly in front of Tom and Alice’s home was ablaze with an assortment of colors and sounds produced from the fireworks. Adults stood on the curb enjoying the display as much as the children, Bo, John and Roman did in presenting it.

After most of the display was over everyone went to get a blanket to sit on for the public fireworks that would soon light up the sky. During the lull Eric and Shawn D presently came around the corner of the Brady house preceded by Carrie whose terrified expression didn’t escape Mike as he stood handing a blanket to his Uncle Mickey and Aunt Maggie. Over Mickey’s shoulder he could see the boys were throwing firecrackers on the ground. Though they were far enough from her to be harmless, Carrie appeared to be near hysteria. The boys, unable to see Carrie’s face, had no idea their seemingly simple prank was frightening their favorite sister and cousin. Mike dodged to Mickey’s right and caught Eric with his left arm as the boy started to run by him.

"Hey, hey, hey. That’s enough, Eric. You too, Shawn D. What’s the idea of throwing those around? I know this is your first year to be allowed to have them but you know better than to do that kind of stuff in Gran’s backyard at any time."

"We were just having some fun before they’re all used up. Carrie started running after I lit up the first three. I thought she wanted to play tag and throw some back at us after we caught her."

"Yeah, we haven’t been able to catch her yet. I didn’t know she could run that fast, did you, Eric?"

"Nope, that’s the first time I’ve ever seen her run like that."

"Take those out into the street and finish using them up, okay? No more running around with them especially after Carrie, understand? Otherwise, I’ll take them away and tell Roman and Bo you’re not old enough to be responsible for having them."

"No, I didn’t mean to do anything bad. Please don’t tell Dad, please?"

"Eric, I won’t provided you promise never to do anything like that again."

"I promise, Mike."

"Me, too."

"All right - just this once I won’t say anything. You know, I don’t think Carrie thought what you were doing was much fun. You scared her. That’s why she was running."

"I didn’t know. I would never hurt my sister on purpose. She’s the one who asked Dad if we could have firecrackers this year."

"That wasn’t a very nice way to repay her, was it? I think you two owe her an apology."

"Okay, but I don’ t know where she went after you stopped us."

"Let me find and talk to her. Later on, both of you can tell her you’re sorry and that will be the end of it, okay? Now, go finish lighting those up and then find your moms so you can get a spot on a blanket to see the big fireworks from the park."

"Thanks, Mike! Let’s go, Shawn D!"

"Yeah, thanks, Mike. Race you to the curb, Eric!"

Mike watched the boys take off across the lawn to the curb knowing they really hadn’t meant to do anything harmful to Carrie. Youthful exuberance had overtaken their usual quiet behavior. Both boys were more often of a thoughtful bent and Mike knew the incident would never be repeated. His attention turned to finding the frightened fifteen-year-old. Always aware Carrie was a sensitive girl, Mike tried to imagine where she would seek refuge.

Only a minute later he had an idea where she would go. He took off across the back lawn, rounded the side of the house and noticed a figure huddled up on his grandmother’s huge front porch swing. True to her nature Carrie had gone the opposite way of where everyone else was going. They were sitting out on Alice and Tom’s back lawn – she had headed for the front yard. As the din of the backyard chatter faded into the background, Mike could hear soft crying coming from the teenager. He slowly stepped up on the porch and waited a minute or two until he heard her stop.

"Carrie?"

"What?"

"Are you all right?"

"I’m fine. I just wanted to sit alone for awhile."

"Is that why you were in such a hurry to get to the swing that you ran right by me?"

"Yes."

"Then it didn’t have anything to do with Eric and Shawn D chasing after you with the firecrackers?"

"No.’

"Not even a little?"

"No."

"Really?"

"Well…maybe a little."

"I’d understand if they did bother you. When I was four, Uncle Mickey took me to the circus. As I walked into the tent this big clown came up and while he was talking to me, another clown dropped a firecracker near him to make him react in a funny way. Unlike the other kids around me who laughed, all it did was frighten me. I’ve never really liked clowns or firecrackers since then."

There was no sound from the darkened corner of the swing where Carrie sat, feet drawn up under her, other than the crickets who appeared to be disinterested in Mike’s story as they continued their chirping. They apparently were not phased one iota by the firecrackers. Thinking it was maybe better to leave Carrie than push her to talk, Mike turned to leave.

"I don’t like clowns, either."

"You don’t? Wow, I thought I was the only one who felt that way."

"No. They aren’t funny to me. All that weird makeup and they try too hard to be funny, at least that’s how I feel. I know what you mean about their being loud. I used to ask Dad to walk the other way or take me to get more food if I saw one coming toward me when I was little. Sami and Eric used to go right up to them but not me. Even then I was different. I like quiet things - the wind in the trees, a songbird early in the morning, water trickling in a brook…"

"Sitting on a porch swing listening to crickets chirp on a summer evening?"

Mike’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness during his conversation with Carrie and he saw a smile begin to draw itself across her face.

"Yeah, would you like to sit down and listen, too?"

"Only if I’m not intruding."

"No, Mike - you never do."

Mike slowly climbed the porch stairs and sat on the opposite end of the swing not uttering another word. A few minutes passed as they faintly heard the distant strains of the city band playing a rousing Sousa march in the band shell at Salem Park. There were still occasional bursts of noise from firecrackers but not on their block. Eric and Shawn D had long since used up their quota.

"After sitting here thinking it over, I know I overreacted to Eric and Shawn D having fun with the firecrackers. I don’t know why I can’t be like everyone else and realize it’s just a lot of noise and nothing more. Actually, I don’t know why I can’t be like everyone else…period."

"Carrie, you’re perfectly wonderful the way you are."

"Oh, sure. That’s why I ran from everyone else and came here. I’m not outgoing like Sami; athletic like Eric; fearless about everything like Brady or bubbly like Belle. I don’t know what I am."

"Carrie, listen - it’s true, you’re not like they are. Each of us is different but that’s not a bad thing. All you have to do is be who you are and you’ll be fine."

"It’s easy for you to say. You’re handsome, Mike...no, really, you are. You care about your family and friends. You’re always so calm and self-assured. Hey, you know you want to be a doctor and are going to school to become one."

"I wasn’t always so sure about my life. It isn’t easy growing up in a family who has a long, distinguished heritage like the Horton’s have in this town. It took me awhile to realize being a doctor was also what I wanted - - not just what I thought my family might want."

"Yeah, with my fear of firecrackers, if I followed in the Brady profession I’d make a pretty poor cop. How’d I ever handle a gun!!"

Unable to hide amusement in his voice Mike responded, "You’ve got a point, there."

Each giggled at the thought of Carrie as "Officer Brady". Carrie edged closer to the center of the swing as she looked into Mike’s face.

"I like using words, writing stories. That’s really what I like to do. I’ve kept a diary, which has now turned into a journal, since I was seven. I’d like to maybe use my love of words as a career."

"Then, you should. Find out what sorts of jobs people can have as writers. If you want it badly enough, you’ll do it – you’ve got the talent and the determination."

"You always make me feel better about myself, Mike. I don’t know how but you do - maybe just because you listen."

"Anytime you want to talk, come over or I’m just a phone call away at college. Look, you are sensitive, feel things deeply; you’re honest, you always put everyone else’s needs and feelings before your own. Eric told me you were the one who got Roman to let him have the firecrackers this year even though you’re terrified of them. I think you’re a wonderful girl. Someone, someday is going to be the luckiest guy on earth to have you as a part of his life. I can’t wait to see who he is. Hey, he’s probably out there looking for you already."

"Sure he is…do you really think he could be?"

"I guarantee it. He’ll look at you in wonderment and then discover that beneath that pretty face you’re even more beautiful inside - he’ll never know what hit him."

"Oh, come on, Mike," Carrie shyly smiled.

"I mean it - he’s in for one incredible adventure with you that will take a lifetime to explore."

"You’re the greatest. I…I…"

"You what, Carrie?"

"I hope he’s just a little bit like you."

"That’s quite a compliment coming from you. I’m honored."

"I meant it."

I know you did. Thank you, Carrie. Did I tell you that you also know how to make other people feel special?

"No."

"Well, you do. Hey, want to go sit on the porch stairs so we can see the fireworks when they start? I don’t think we can see them from here with the roof overhead."

"Sure."

Mike had stood up, offered his hand to Carrie and led her to the steps where they sat down again with their legs stretched before them and proceeded to watch the bursts of blue, green, red, gold and shimmering white accessorize the night sky for the next forty-five minutes. Mike periodically cast a quick glance at Carrie making sure she was enjoying the display. The sadness had left her face and in its place was the wonderment of the child that still lurked beneath the surface of the young teenage girl she was.

Even then, Mike thought, there was something or someone trying to tell him Carrie had become a part of his life – a good part and now, she was becoming more and more a part of his heart. He had been out there looking for her. That night at the USO he wanted so desperately to have her back as a friend after deserting her ten months before. When he had seen her, what he had felt was more than friendship. Was HE the one he had told her would come looking for her eleven years ago that night on the porch?

Well, there was evidence that he was. He had been wrong about one thing. As he lay holding Carrie in his arms while she slept unaware of this discovery he was making about himself, he was filled with wonderment but not by her pretty face. No, he was astonished by her beautiful face and the even more beautiful person she had grown into inside. He knew every minute he spent with Carrie was an adventure of the heart and soul – one he anxiously anticipated the moment he had seen her again in New York only a week ago.

Was it the adventure that would fulfill them both for a lifetime? Lifetime - - these days, the length of one was shortened for thousands by the war.

"How much time do we really have, Carrie?" whispered Mike knowing she couldn’t hear him. "God, I wish I knew. I don’t want to make promises, dream dreams or plan a future with you when I don’t know if I can keep any of them. When I have to leave eventually and maybe don’t come back, you’ll need to get on with your life and be happy with someone who does come home. I do believe, God help me, you’re the one I’ve been looking for all my life and you were right in front of me all this time. You might be younger than I but I think it was me one who needed to grow up. And now that I know, there’s the war. I just have to keep telling you to go slowly in this relationship. That way, I can keep us from getting too involved. It’s for the best – it’s for your best, Carrie. I only want you to be happy."

Carrie began to stir in Mike’s arms, stretching in his embrace and opening her eyes just as the first rays of the sun began to paint the underside of the morning clouds with a tinge of copper. In only a moment she realized where she was when she felt the beating of Mike’s heart against the palm of her left hand. Turning her head to look up at him she was puzzled by the stare he gave her.

"Hey, you’re already awake? It must be after five then. Mike, what is it?"

All the emotions he’d been feeling the hour and a half were suddenly uncontrollable. Seeing her look at him with the same expression of love first thing in the morning as she had shown him before she drifted to sleep the night before overwhelmed him.

He pulled her more tightly to him and lowered his head to hers. His first kiss was light but each successive one was longer, deeper and harder. He kissed her eyes, nose, cheeks and forehead in between those on her lips. His hands slowly came up the sides of her body from her waist until he held her face with them all the while never stopping the barrage of kisses. Slowly he began to slip her body beneath his. Wanting to be an active participant in what was happening, Carrie began to run her fingernails up and down Mike’s back through his shirt and pulling him back down toward her.

"I love you, Mike," was all she breathlessly whispered in his ear.

It had the opposite effect she had thought it would produce. Mike suddenly stopped, pulled back from her and breathing as hard as if he’d been on a five mile run, he got up from the couch.

"I’ll…go take a shower and make breakfast for you this morning."

"Mike?"

He left the living room and headed for the bathroom. In less than a minute Carrie could hear the shower running as she sat up straightening her sweater and smoothing down her hair.

"What just went on here? I thought he realized I wanted what he wanted. Stay calm, Carrie. If you push him, he only back farther away. Well, for what it’s worth, I’d like to wake up that way again - soon. Mike Horton, I can be patient, too, especially now that I know you love me back."

Waiting for You - Chapter 9

The incessant "shhh" sound emanating from the shower nozzle above his head the next ten minutes enabled Mike to calm his racing heart to something near a normal rate. He let the hottest water he could tolerate cascade over his back.

In his haste to create some space from Carrie and abort what he believed would be a major mistake at this juncture in their relationship, he’d discovered upon standing what collapsing on hard ice the day before and sleeping in one position all night had done to his back. Movement was difficult with his muscles screaming with every step he had taken from the living room to the bathroom. Removing his clothes had been nothing but torture when he’d bend his back in any direction.

Steam clouds formed, rose over the curtain rod and gently blanketed the bathroom. After applying the therapeutic heat directly to his lumbar region he could feel the muscles relaxing. He reached for his shampoo bottle on the edge of the tub only to suddenly remember he had left it in his duffel bag in the foyer near the front door. Both days prior to this morning he had brought items from the bag with him before he’d started his shower. Given the morning’s circumstances and what had transpired, he’d lost all thought of what his normal routine was until this second. His razor, aftershave, toothpaste, tooth brush and bath soap weren’t in the bathroom as well.

They, too, were snuggly ensconced in the far-removed duffel bag. Turning to the indentation in the wall that was the soap dish for the shower, Mike noticed Carrie’s pink bar of Lux beauty soap. It wasn’t his Lifebuoy but it would do the same job of cleaning him. He pulled back the shower curtain at the farthest end from where the spray was and saw the bottle of Helene Curtiss shampoo that was Carrie’s as well. He grabbed the bottle before he gave himself more time to think about it and pouring some in his hands lathered up his hair and rinsed. He next took the bar of Lux and found it wasted no time forming rich, luxurious bubbles. If only the guys at the post could see him now with his beauty bar of Lux in pastel pink no less!

Never would he tell someone but the soap did leave his skin soft like the radio commercials promised. After rinsing himself again and shutting off the water valves, he drew back the bright yellow shower curtain and stepped onto the fuzzy, soft blue rug that lay before the tub. Due to the bathroom’s color scheme of bright yellow, bright blue and white he had renamed it the Donald Duck room with Carrie’s amused blessing. He reached for another of the blue and white striped towels he’d used every morning, wrapped it around his waist and turned to the wash basin.

He realized the down side to all of this was he would have the smell of Carrie on him the rest of the day – from the soap she used on her body to the floral shampoo he always noticed when he hugged her and placed his face along her cheek. Not only would she be beside him during the day but, surrounding him every minute with the fragrance that defined her to him. The mirror above the wash basin was blurred with steam.

Mike took a small hand towel hanging on the rack next to the sink and wiped it down. He leaned on the wash basin with both hands and studied the reflection before him. There was short blond stubble on his face, that rebellious lock of hair that always hung down over his forehead defying to be in place was softer than usual from Carrie’s shampoo and his eyes from his perspective had a look of guilt in them.

"Mikey, Mikey, Mikey, what did you think you were doing this morning?" he softly whispered. "Humph! I knew what I was doing this morning. I wanted to do to Carrie what I’ve been thinking about since that kiss we shared after we danced in the apartment Friday night. I couldn’t go to sleep for hours that night thinking about her lying in that bed not more than one room away and fighting to keep from leaping off the sofa, dashing across the room and knocking on her door…okay, maybe not even wasting time knocking on her door."

Shaking his head he proceeded to play devil’s advocate.

"Well, it’s okay to think about it, Mikey, just so long as you don’t act on it. Carrie’s not ready for anything that serious though she might think she is. You’re the older one, here, so take responsibility for keeping your physical desires in check."

Bowing his head a moment and breathing a deep sigh he looked back into the mirror and could almost see the other side of his personality come forth that was involved in this "conversation".

"That’s really an easy thing to say as long as Carrie’s not near me, touching me…hell, lying on top of me like she was this morning. I’m not made of steel, for God’s sakes. I’m a man and there are times I’ve dated a girl for awhile and we…were…intimate. Afterward I’d realize it wasn’t satisfying. I wanted more. I’ve wanted to…share myself be with…love and…make love with that person I’ve been searching for all my life. Until last week no one has made me feel they were that certain someone but…Carrie…Carrie only had to look in my eyes the way she did on Thanksgiving morning when she answered the door with that silly turkey baster in her hand and flour streaked on her chin and …I knew."

Mike halted talking in hushed tones and watched the realization of what he’d just said completely register on his face. At one level he’d had an idealistic view of Carrie as someone to love - a friend, confidante, soul mate. Now, he was admitting at an even deeper level all the sexual connotations his involvement with Carrie made him dream of as well. He knew what had happened on the sofa less than an hour ago was the physical expression of his love overriding that idealistic viewpoint. Mike had until now consciously refused to consider the intimacy his body craved from Carrie. Failing to do so had led to what was almost to his way of thinking using Carrie to satisfy himself without considering the consequences it would have for her.

He wasn’t one hundred percent positive but was fairly certain Carrie had never been intimate with any of the boys in Salem she’d known. She and Lucas Roberts had been pals but nothing more. Mike believed that she had just dated Austin Reed while attending Salem U. She was always telling everyone they were just friends, nothing more. Jenn had volunteered to him one night on the phone that Carrie had been too busy with her job in New York to see anyone on a steady basis.

"That’s it then, Mikey. You have to get control of the situation, put a little distance between what you want and what you should expect from Carrie for a while. If I’m maybe going to be her…first…I have to be the responsible one. Give her a way to back out of this if she realizes this isn’t what she wants after all. Don’t make her feel obligated later because she was pressured into doing something she wasn’t ready for. Kisses are one thing but it’s gotta stop there…beginning today, at least, for the foreseeable future."

Resolute in his course, Mike turned from the mirror and realized one more thing. All his fresh clothes were also in the living room. He had to go out and get fresh skivvies and a uniform clad in a towel…period. This was the second time he’d be "freely attired" in the apartment but with all that had changed between Mike and Carrie this was not going to be as nonchalant as the prior time. He could just spend all day of the last day of his leave in Carrie’s bathroom, cozy as it was. Great plan, Horton. Nope, no time like the present to put his new resolve to the test.

Mike opened the door allowing the steam to escape into the hallway ahead of him as he walked to the living room. He strode through the archway, dog tags clinking on his chest giving away his whereabouts to Carrie the way a bell does on a cat’s collar to an unsuspecting bird. Carrie was nowhere in sight. The sofa had been straightened, its pillows returned to their orderly ranks on the backs and sides of it and the bed linen was neatly folded up on the coffee table. Suddenly, he felt her hand on his back as she emerged from the hallway, coming from the direction of her bedroom.

"You were taking such a long time in the shower I was beginning to wonder if you were the dirtiest or cleanest person I know," Carrie joked, a smile lighting her face as she saw him wearing what was, she decided, her favorite uniform of his – her bathroom towel.

Mike could see and feel her eyes traveling up his body in a way he hadn’t noticed before. Moving away from her touch was harder than he thought it would be.

Will power, Mike. God, just put those thoughts out of your mind her hand makes you sift through. Take control of the situation…now! "I think I hurt my back a little yesterday on the ice rink when we fell. I absorbed a lot of shock. I just ran hot water on my back to loosen it up."

"Are you all right? If you want I’ve got some rubbing alcohol. I could rub it into your back to take the soreness out."

"No, no…I’m fine, now. The hot water loosened it up in no time."

"That explains why your skin is so red then. It’s all that hot water."

"Yeah." At least I hope what’s causing it. "Well, I’m…gonna get my razor, shave, get dressed and then start breakfast."

"Mike you don’t have to cook. I don’t mind doing it, really."

"Hey, it’ll expedite things a little. You can shower - if I left you enough hot water - get ready, I’ll make breakfast, we’ll eat and then take off for that place you wanted to take me to that you’ve been so mysterious about, okay?"

"I’m not being ‘mysterious’," Carrie kidded and punched Mike gently in the upper left arm for comedic emphasis. "I just want to surprise you a little with a place I found that isn’t what you’d think of as typical New York City."

"Well, whatever it is that you’re being, we need to get a move on. I probably don’t need to remind you but I have to leave on the six o’clock train for the post tonight and I need to get back here in time to gather my gear."

"You’re right, don’t remind me. I want this day to go by slowly but I know it will feel just the opposite. You know, we don’t have to go. We could stay here for the day, light a fire, cuddle."

"No, we need to get out, get some fresh air and walk around a little. It’ll help keep my back from tightening up again.’

"I thought you said your back was all right."

"It is…for now, but…if I don’t keep moving around it won’t stay that way."

"Mike? Is something bothering you? You just seem…I don’t know…uneasy."

"I’m fine, Carrie. I, I’m just looking forward to seeing this place you’ve been hinting about the past couple of days. That’s all it is, okay?"

Mike steeled himself to look directly into Carrie’s eyes to convince her nothing was wrong; nothing had changed from the time he’d gone into the bathroom until his re-emergence minutes ago.

"Okay, if you say so."

"I say so. Now go on. Shoo!! Git!!"

Mike shaved, dressed and had the apartment smelling like eggs and cottage fries when Carrie appeared in the kitchen after her shower.

She wore navy blue slacks, a red turtle neck sweater covered by another sweater in navy blue, with a bright red stripe around it a third of the way down from the neck and white ducks knitted into the pattern above the red stripe. She had her hair the way Mike loved to see it – the French-braided pigtails. She looked like a cover girl for Liberty or Look magazine with her fresh-scrubbed, mid-American wholesomeness.

"Yum…it smells good in here. Need some help?"

"How about pouring the apple juice, grabbing that plate of toast and we’re ready to eat."

Mike had her infamous green apron folded in half and tied around his waist.

"You got it. Here, let me untie that for you", Carrie said as she walked in front of Mike, wrapped her arms around him and undid the knot on the back of the apron though she didn’t let go of him once the apron was set aside on the counter.

"Carrie, I can’t walk if you do that."

"Yeah, so?"

"So, this skillet is heavy and I might accidentally tip it and burn you."

Mike stepped around Carrie and headed into the dining nook.

"What’s bothering you, Mike? It can’t be about this morning. I tried to tell you I wanted you as much as you did me. It’s like we’ve retreated a step or two and I’m not sure if we’re standing on the same one right now. Maybe when he sees where I’m taking him it’ll relax him about what almost happened. I don’t want to lose what we’ve gained these four days."

Picking up the plate of toast, Carrie put it on the same tray holding the apple juice glasses and pitcher. As she headed into the dining nook something caught her eye. Setting the tray down momentarily, she picked it up from the windowsill and smiled. This might just be the perfect little mood changer for Mike.

He was serving the eggs and cottage fries from the pan to the plates when Carrie came through the swinging door with her tray and trinket. Neither said a word as they completed setting the table. Mike pulled the chair out for Carrie and then seated himself.

"Mike."

"Uh-huh."

"Look what I found on the windowsill. I’d forgotten we put it there Thursday when we were taking the rest of the turkey off the bone and doing dishes."

Holding the item delicately in between her thumb and pointing finger was the wishbone from the Thanksgiving turkey."

"Hey, I did forget it. Is it dried out enough?"

"Yup! Wanna make a wish after breakfast?"

"Sure, but you know, I have a lead in the record of getting the winning end through the years, remember?"

"It’s time the pendulum began swinging the other way."

"Okay, but I warned you."

Carrie’s hunch had paid off. Mike’s smile had returned and there was an ease to the conversation through breakfast - it felt good to both parties involved. At one point Mike had her lean forward and he check her cupboard door head bump. It was healing but Carrie told him it was still sore to the touch particularly from her hairbrush. He kept trying to make her slip up with a hint about where they were going that day but to no avail. While both sipped their apple juice, Carrie picked up the wishbone and taunted Mike with it.

"Come on, Horton. Time to put your winning record on the line. I dare ya!"

"You’re feeling pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you? Did you put a small crack in the bone to favor your side…huh, huh?"

"Mike Horton, that’s a terrible thing to accuse me of but I’ll make a note to do that next time. Thanks for the tip."

After agreeing where each would hold the bone that had equal tension, they pulled until the bone snapped.

"I warned you, Brady. The record goes unbroken another year."

"Okay, okay…you win…again. Hope your wish comes true."

Leaning toward Mike and gazing at him with a smile in her eyes to match that on her lips, Carrie softly said, "Besides, I already got my wish. I don’t really want anything else."

They stared at one another for what seemed minutes but was maybe only thirty seconds until Mike broke the mood when Carrie began to lean in for a kiss.

"Let’s go, Brady. We have a ferry, subway and bus to take according to you before we get to wherever it is you’re taking me. It’s going to take longer with the snow on the streets, too."

Rising from the dining chair, Mike kissed her lightly on the lips. Carrie had hoped for a deeper, more lingering variety. Whatever this change in Mike was, it puzzled Carrie and kept her off kilter. Marlena, Hope and Alice Horton had once been talking about love and the men they had given theirs to as Carrie sat listening with her back to them so as not to appear she was eavesdropping, though she was. As deeply as Marlena loved John, Hope adored Bo and Alice cherished Tom they still agreed without exception love was not an easy road though it passed through beautiful country. Carrie decided to keep that in mind on the first "miles" of her road with Mike.