PART SIX

There have been moments I have considered quite key to my life as it became, and what has formed my past, and may form my future. I remember my graduation ceremonies from both high school and college, for these were chief milestones. There was the Sunday morning in April, when I was thirteen, when I was baptized in the cool water of the pool at the Pentecostal church I was raised in. The first creative writing I had published. Learning to read on a ninth grade level by the time I entered the fourth grade. The day I learned the Louisville Police Department was opening its' Evidence Technician Unit to civilians, and I decided to test for the position as technician; then the first day I attended the class which would prepare me for the job. I know there were others -- others perhaps less crucial, except to me as movie lover: the first film I ever saw; the time my grandmother took me to see the re-release of 'Gone with the Wind'. I could recall the date and time I had seen 'Raiders of the Lost Ark,' 'Batman,' 'Titanic,'....'Gladiator'.

The day before would also join that list, that Saturday and the Sunday I was now enjoying. Here were more key moments: my discovery of the CrowesNest, my meeting with...well, even now, I found it difficult to comprehend that any of this was happening. I had met Sid 6.7, Officer Bud White, Sheriff John Biebe, Dr. Jeffrey Wigand and others I'd known only from movies. Then, incredibly, the previous night I had happily lost my innocence to who was quite possibly the most dashing, most famous, and likely the most popular of all Russell Crowe's incarnations -- Maximus Decimus Meridias. All right, so I could literally bruise fifty percent of my body if I continued to pinch myself the way I had, still trying to convince myself that this was all real. Admittedly though, I felt quite honored to be at the general's side. There was still part of me that could only see myself as the overweight, shy Tina Stewart whom people often avoided or ignored. It was difficult accepting that I had spent the night with someone who in all honesty did not exist, and that this world I had been introduced to (I still had no idea how it had occurred) was created by some unknown magic. Actually, it was harder for me to reconcile that he and I had made love, even moreso than the idea that the CrowesNest existed.

I stood beside Max as we waited beside the greeter's desk at the entrance to the hotel's restaurant. Before leaving for the Tavern, the general had placed an order so we might have a picnic lunch during our tour. I was unsure what we would get, for he had asked me about several things ("Do you like seafood?" "What about chicken or lamb?" "What fruits are your favorites?"), but I figured I'd enjoy whatever they fixed.

"So...Tina," he was saying as we waited for the food's arrival, "what do you think you'd like to see besides the stables? Any preferences?"

"Well..." I replied, leaning against the desk so that some of my weight was taken off my feet. I didn't say anything to Max, but I had a feeling he knew already. I was quite stiff all over, and although walking was one of my favorite forms of exercise, I really wanted to take it easy. That was why, when he had suggested teaching me how to horseback ride, I had very politely declined, telling him I'd love to learn some other time. I couldn't have mounted a horse if I had been told I was guaranteed a win in the Kentucky Derby! "Well...I *do* want to see your beautiful horses. I can still see how much Scato and Argento mean to you, and besides, I'm curious as to what a war horse is like compared to say...a race horse."

Max smiled, sighing. "They are definitely a different breed from what you're likely used to, but now that they -- and their old master -- are retired from military service..." and I smiled at his comment, "...we are still attempting to adjust. I fear it will take all three of us a while."

"I'm just sorry I don't feel much like riding any of the horses this morning. I'd so like to but...."

"Tina...I understand," the general said softly. "I wasn't quite thinking when I asked you that. I think perhaps on your next visit," and he winked this time, "you may be better up to it."

I laughed gently. "Yeah...maybe I will. Thanks for understanding, Max." He nodded his response. "So...what else would I like to see? I don't know. What else is there? It seems like every time I look out beyond the hotel and the tavern, everything just keeps getting...bigger, like it's expanding or something. Exactly how big is this place?"

"I'm not certain," he replied with a shrug. "I don't know that anyone really knows. John told me that it actually adjusts when another of us arrives, in order to accommodate the things we loved in our old worlds. Lachlan Curry loves to fly, so it's as though he has the whole world at his disposal. Bud enjoys what the ladies call...um...Road Trips, I think because he said his California is so full of roads that lead seemingly off to nowhere. We have miles and miles of beaches...and Colin tells me he's rather fond of those -- he loved them a great deal in his old life."

I shook my head. "That's...well, saying this...this is all incredible doesn't even seem to scratch the tip of the iceberg, does it?"

"No, it really doesn't. There are vast expanses of land around here, some of which I have yet to see since I've only been here a short time myself. East and The Man...."

"Excuse me -- The Man?"

"I believe his movie is 'The Silver Brumby' -- I haven't seen it myself, so do 't feel bad, but...oddly enough, he has no name. The movie only called him The Man. I believe Peaches often laughingly calls him Mannie...however John says he's something of a loner; doesn't come around the Nest much." Nodding, remembering that this was another of Russell's lesser known movies I had to promise myself to see, I apologized to the general for the interruption. Smiling he continued. "Well, The Man and East -- from 'Hammers over the Anvil'..." (Oh, now that movie I did recall -- well, at least the first five minutes or so...I'd never managed to get past the opening! When I first discovered the CrowesNest on the Internet, the Keeper Michelle had suggested it to me) "...they've both promised to take me riding deeper into the territory of the Nest. And John's told me that he'll take me hiking up into the mountains when I'm ready. He claims there is area around here much like his beloved Alaska."

I opened my mouth to say something, then chuckled. "Sorry...I was about to say... Never mind."

"What?"

"Well, it's in the seventies outside. I've actually seen a couple of people heading down to the beach for a swim. You're telling me that a short distance from here..."

"Are mountains similar to John's beloved Mt. McKinley, which he told me is the highest peak on your North American continent. He said there are times when he's gone camping and found several vicinities that have daylight for 20 hours or more. He even swears he's seen...glaciers I think they are called...."

"Oh my God." With each description, what the Nest encompassed overwhelmed me.

"Not long after I arrived, he took me and several of the ladies camping into this one area where we saw all of these splendidly colorful, dancing lights which seemed to touch the Earth."

"The Aurora Borealis," I whispered. "Or the Northern Lights they're also called."

"That's it. John called them the Aurora Borealis, but never in all my life had I seen anything of such natural beauty."

'What do you mean you might have something to do?'

I blinked, suddenly realizing that it was happening again, only this time, I recognized the voice as belonging to Bud White. Concentrating on Maximus, even responding to him, I became aware that it was as if I was back in the Tavern. Not only that, but I was looking at Bud through another's point of view. The voices again were almost otherworldly, maintaining softness like snowflakes brushing the ground.

'You know you don't...'

'Leave it to me.' *That* was John again!

'But you don't have anything...'

'Just leave it to me...You don't understand...Just leave it to me...Just leave...' His voice began to echo inside my ears, even as Max and I continued to speak.

"I think," I said to the Spaniard, trying not to allow my speech to falter, " I think...I would like to see your gardens a bit closer, especially the ones near my room." Why was this happening to me?

"Ah...the English ones Peaches calls them. I'd be move than happy...."

'I can handle it, Bud...I can handle...It's up to her...I can handle...It's up to her....'

"I loved how the different scents kept wafting up to the room all during the night. I don't think I've ever smelled roses that fragrant."

"I know...Did you notice the jasmine? It was like being back in...."

'I just hate to see you get hurt, pal, especially....'

'...going to be...it to me...I...what...about....' came the clipped words.

The image rushed over my mind, nearly pushing aside all else. I recalled my fantasy in the Ladies Room the previous night, when I imagined Maximus holding me in his arms, but instead found it was John Biebe. Now the fantasy continued, the details more vivid. Once more, the Alaskan held me in an embrace, his arms run beneath mine so he could caress my back. I felt the soft fullness of his bow lips pressed against mine, in a manner both gentle and urgent. We parted, gazing at each other, and his mouth traced an imaginary line along my right collarbone, down to my throat, then raised his head so he could gently kiss my lips again. Pushed as close as I could against the wall behind me, I trembled so hard I thought I might collapse, but with each touch of his body coming nearer to mine, my nerves eased. John's long auburn hair fell close to my cheeks, even as his beard tickled my face. Ordinarily, both the length of his hair and the presence of the beard would have annoyed me, but instead, I felt my stomach contract at his nearness. John was beautiful -- I had never believed such long hair and a beard could make a man so handsome. His scent, which was so unlike Maximus', reminded me of a winter's morning after a brisk snowfall, or how the air is fragranced by a spring rain. This big rugged Alaskan was so tender -- large hands that could have broken me, touching me as if he was afraid to hurt me. I groaned, my womanhood growing moist....

'Tina,' he whispered as I had heard him do in my room during that still unexplainable incident. 'Tina...darlin'. I...I want you.' His accent was quiet -- the way I remembered his voice being during the movie, and those bedroom eyes (they were bedroom eyes, weren't they -- just like Max's I thought with a smile) were full not just of longing, but affection.

We kissed again, and I held him tightly, almost afraid I would *break him*! I watched my imagined self run fingertips along his lips, then about his jawline until they lingered, brushing the outline of his beautiful blue-green eyes. "Make love to me, John," I heard myself softly say, barely able to speak. "Make love to me." I happily buried myself in his strong arms -- feeling protected as I had hoped I might when I first saw him in the locker room in 'Mystery Alaska', and our hands sought out the other's bodies....

I blinked as I heard a female say, ""Here you are, General." I turned at the sound of the young waitress who approached, carrying a small wicker hamper of food, hoping Maximus had not noticed how disconcerted I felt.

"Oh, thank you. What were you able to scrounge up for us?"

The girl laughed, partly at his comment, and partly at being in the presence of this hero. "I think you'll be quite pleased...."

I didn't hear any more for I was too busy attempting to decipher exactly what this last 'Star Trek' episode had meant. Okay...take deep breaths here, girlfriend. Everything was fine, although I caught myself glancing about to see if Yoda of 'Star Wars' might be around as well, about to teach me all about the Force. At this point, if that little Jedi Master had shown up, I probably would have dropped kicked him in panic. What the hell was happening to me? All right, so I was spending some well-needed down time in the CrowesNest...I had established that weird fact in my head and was reconciled to it. But I was uncertain about these other things happening to me now. Here I had just spent the night with Maximus Decimus Meridias, with whom I practically fell in love from the second he appeared on the screen; last night, I experienced something many women would kill for. I overcame my fears, and found solace with this wonderful man....

Now I was hearing voices and wondering if a stiff shot of Lithium was what I needed. Oh, and not just any voices (at least no dogs or little green men were speaking to me...yet), but it was as though I'd been dropped inside a conversation between Bud and John, and the bulk of it was from the latter's viewpoint. Why was I suddenly.... No, none of this made sense. All right, so the CrowesNest was not logical, but it existed nevertheless -- I wasn't insane (put a hold on the Lithium and Prozac for the time being). I accepted that, but still found no explanation to this other occurrence. Why in the world was I thinking of John the way I was -- and thinking I heard him -- when it was Maximus I loved?

"Ready?" I heard Max ask, and I realized that all this time I had been responding to him normally as if nothing was wrong.

"Ready. Time's a wasting, General. Let's go."

After a ten-minute walk south of the Hotel, we arrived at the extensive Nest stables, an impressive layout that made me feel the owners of Churchill Downs might be envious (and the Downs were nothing to laugh at). The place was teeming with activity, grooms and other employees competently about their own duties as they tended the two dozen horses which were part of the complex. Before we entered, Max placed our hamper in a mini-fridge in a small, clean area that I figured was a break room, and then we eased inside, the Spaniard telling me to watch my step. I laughed, assuring him that I had every intention of doing so, especially since the walking boots I wore were normally used at work -- and this was the only pair I'd packed.

I rubbed my nose, the smell of horseflesh, fresh hay and feed, and other horsy functions assaulting my senses. Max laughed at my reaction, and I joined in, as we strolled along the clear path, which ran through the inside of the building.

"Not used to this?" he asked, smiling THAT smile.

Chuckling I admitted, "No... But believe me...I've smelled a whole lot worst in my line of work." He laughed harder. "Well think about it. Honestly, I'd rather smell manure than some of the live people I've had to photograph."

Max made a face -- and on him, it looked awfully cute. "Oh no, Tina, I believe you. I'll be blunt myself," and he paused a moment to give one lovely golden haired mare a gentle pat, "and you understand my meaning considering what you do for a career." His voice dropped, as he became somewhat more serious. "You know what it's like to smell fresh blood; to smell...death." I nodded. "I learned that stench on the battlefield, and in the Arenas. But the gods know one thing.... Compared to all that, I would rather smell manure the rest of my life."

I gave a small smile. "I know what you mean. You learn to distinguish what smells are the worst in my job. Some of the new people don't understand when I say I'd rather smell blood at times than...well,...other things."

"Agreed...Ah, here we go." Like an eager child, he practically skipped to one stall, removing an apple from a small waist satchel he wore. "Tina...this...is Argento." I stepped beside him. "Argento," he said soothingly as he rubbed the bridge of the beautiful black stallion's nose, "this...is Tina. She's a new friend of mine."

"Hello Argento. Oh, he's wonderful, Max," I beamed, hesitantly reaching forward as the horse gave me what appeared to be a curious look.

"He won't bite, my dear. All right, he might nip a bit, but he doesn't bite," the general explained as Argento greedily gobbled the apple, then nudged his master in an obvious signal that he wanted more. Max withdrew another apple, and handed it to me. "Would you...."

"Oh, I'd love to. I admit...I'm not really used to them. They're so big...."

"He's quite gentle here in the Nest, Tina. You wouldn't hurt Tina, now would you Argento? She's my friend...." He continued to talk to the horse in that same gentle fashion, not as one might speak stupidly to a baby, but in an intelligent manner as if he respected this beautiful animal's feelings as he might a human's. Argento and I exchanged glances, and I realized that Max's little talk seemed to have made him trust me. Any friend of Max's is a friend of mine, I suppose. "All right...He's fine with this. Go ahead, my dear." Extending my hand close to his mouth, the horse began to nibble at the Red Delicious, and upon finishing, gave me a nudge causing me to laugh as it did Max. "You son-of-a.... All right, no more for you! You'll spoil your supper. I can't give you a treat for anything, can I? Sorry Tina...Argento here," and he gave the horse one of those parental 'what-am-I-going-to-do-with-you? looks,' "well, look at him. He's doing the 'Papa...please don't be angry with me -- I'm excited around the lovely lady' looks."

Blushing I asked, "Oh...is *that* what he's saying?"

Maximus nodded, smiling. "Both he and Scato have excellent tastes...Oh, and speaking of which." He nodded in the direction of the stall just to the left where a chestnut colored stallion patiently waited to be attended to. "Are you ready to meet Scato as well?"

We moved into the adjoining stall, and Maximus made introductions again. Scato seemed more cautious than his comrade, his skittishness almost causing me to draw back. However, once his "Papa" had whispered soothing words to him, the horse appeared more willing to let the stranger approach. I was even able to feed him an apple - a Rome, I told Max as we chucked at the irony - which went a long way in securing our friendship.

"See," Max told me, watching the stallion affectionately nuzzle my closest ear. "A bit of a bribe, and you are friends for life."

I laughed. "Sorry to hear it took a bribe." I massaged his lowered head, receiving a quiet response.

"He doesn't make friends all that easily, but when he does...it is for life. On campaign, there were only two people he really trusted: Cicero...and me. Isn't that right, Scato?"

I was silent, watching the warmth between the Spaniard and his beloved companion - the way he took the brush and groomed this magnificent animal. Max's soft-spoken manner worked wonders, and it seemed odd to think that this man and these two horses had shares so much on the battlefield. They deserved the peace the Nest could provide.

"I guess you were happy to see them here?"

"Overjoyed. I thought never to see them again...except in Elysium. This...new world was so full of surprises, I..."

"Thought I heard voices." We both turned, and I saw two men in casual riding wear approach us. The one who had spoken was the baby-faced Cort of 'The Quick and the Dead'. The other was East of the famous nude ride of 'Hammers over the Anvil'. I smiled, bowing my head in greeting, uncertain which of them was the handsomest, although in Max's presence they all nearly faded.

"East, Cort. Have you met Tina Stewart yet?"

Cort smiled sweetly. "We did at the Tavern last night," he replied in that soft Western drawl I thought quite adorable. "Nice to see you again Tina."

"Nice to see you. East."

"Tina," came the Australian accent. I sighed. Too much testosterone in here I considered. "General showing you around then?"

"We're on the grand tour."

"And she insisted we stop at the stables first. She wanted to meet Argento and Scato."

"Can you blame her?" Cort admitted, whistling. "They're two of the most gorgeous horses we've ever had here at the ol' Nest."

Max beamed his appreciation - how could he not? - then said, "Just you two today, and the regular employees?"

"Just me and Cort, yeah mate. The Man headed back to the hut fairly early, right before dawn in fact. Said he'd seen you next week sometime."

We talked a while longer, and then Maximus excused us. After saying our good-byes to the general's pride and joy, we stopped by the break room to wash our hands and fetch our basket. Minutes later we were outside, following a path that led past the paddock and exercise ring, and further from the main property. I glanced back, watching it grow smaller as we walked a slight incline which led to a small cobblestone bridge constructed over a creek. What I would call civilization had transformed into what felt like familiar countryside.

Max noted my puzzlement for he asked, "You've been here?"

I had been distracted by some playful lambs frolicking in a field while a ewe acted as guardian. "What? I'm sorry, Max. What was that?"

He smiled. "You feel as though... Somehow, this is all familiar to you?" He took my left hand as I maneuvered three steps up to the bridge, and I listened as the water slow danced over the rocks in the creek bed.

"I don't know why.... That over there," and I pointed towards the flock of sheep, "reminds me of what I saw on the road from a village called Winchcombe to Sudeley Castle."

"In your beloved Britain?"

Nodding I continued. "And over there... where the cows are...."

"Uh-huh?"

"I swear those cows were in a field on the property belonging to Thornbury Castle. Okay, so a cow's a cow...."

"And then again, perhaps not." Smiling even more, the general explained, "Peaches told me that the Nest possesses so much of not only us - those of us who are a part of Russell - but you ladies as well, that it... I'm uncertain how best to explain this, but it draws off the things we love."

"Like places?" I questioned as I jumped down onto level ground. The winding path ahead of us forked off into several directions, and was tree-lined, dotted with patches of wildflowers like those I recalled.... Like those I recalled on the one mile walk from the rail station to Hever Castle in Kent.

"Especially places, and those which make or made us happy. For you, it was Britain, correct, and for me, Trujillo. East and The Man get vast expanses to ride; Colin his beaches; Bud his California...."

"John his Alaska." Funny. Had I almost whispered his name the way the general's often came off my lips - gently, reverently? John. I had known less than a half-dozen Johns in my lifetime and only one - a Homicide detective - had I liked. The others ranged from wimpy to conniving and deceitful. John - meaning the Lord has favored or a favorite of the Lord, although I would not know that until later.

"John has his Alaska, yes." Maximus was looking at me, his head tilted to one side, and I wondered if he was thinking more than about the Nest being so wonderful.

"So..." I finally managed to say, turning my own head slightly. "Are...there...any borders...uh, boundaries?" I paused long enough to catch a purplish white bloom between my thumb and index finger, then pressed it close to my nostrils. The mix of lavender and honey tickled my sinuses,and I sneezed, eliciting a chuckle from both of us. "Sorry. That smells...so sweet. So... no borders?"

"I've been told there are some, but it is not as though one would look at a map and say, 'Oh, here's the United States; here's Canada, France, Britannia...and the CrowesNest.'"

I laughed. "But you guys do cross them? Bud told me it's not like you're trapped - you can leave and go out into my world sometimes."

"Sometimes...with assistance." Seeing me shake my head, baffled, he chuckled. "Remember my dear, I've only been in the Nest a short time myself, and I've yet to take what Bud calls the quote 'infamous Road Trip'. But out Michelle...Yes, Michelle, our List Keeper; she has the ability to conduct us into your world. We're not exactly certain how; we only know she can, and it was an ability she was unaware of until she came to the Nest. Peaches is unsure whether her arrival here simply enhanced something concealed, or...." He shrugged. "I can't explain it, Tina, not to any type of conclusion either of us can comprehend. Not even Michelle knows fully herself, but perhaps one day we will...."

So, another mystery for me to ponder. Whenever I had entered Ford's Place, no one possessed such a special gift, and none of the characters desired to leave, even had they been able. That was why this CrowesNest was becoming more special to me. I knew in my heart that this walk I now took with Maximus would never have happened with Han or Indiana.

Not until I looked at my watch did I realize Maximus and I had been walking nearly an hour. I was uncertain how much area we had traversed, but what amazed me was that this world, while it operated on the same twenty-four hour clock, seemed to move on a slower pace than 'Reality' did. The evening before had hardly been boring, but appeared to last much longer than the seven or so hours I spent at the Tavern. It was wonderful thinking I could take the saying 'Slow down and smell the coffee' as intended.

We stood on a hill overlooking a deep valley, crisscrossed with flowery meadows, and a purplish-blue lake from which a narrow river appeared to take its origin. Fields of heather tilted then straightened in a wind dance, and I looked towards what bordered it -- acres of seemingly endless, almost barren ground in sharp contrast to the more fertile beauty beside it. I swallowed hard, focusing on some small rock formations situated above what I observed.

"Moors," I whispered.

"Ah...that's the word Michelle used when we came out here. I know they're present in parts of Britannia, particularly in the North...You...This is recognizable to you once more?"

"Part of it is." I was hoping the tears of excitement did not show too much in my voice, for my reaction was almost embarrassing. One would think I would be used to it by now, but I was not. "That's -- uh...That's Peniston Crag."

"Excuse me?"

"Peniston Crag," I said, awe-struck, then shook myself. "Those large rocks over there. It's from a favorite movie of mine." Max smiled. "'Wuthering Heights', 1939, Laurence Olivier, Merle Oberon, directed by William Wyler. It's my third favorite romance movie, behind 'The Ghost and Mrs. Muir', and 'Titanic'."

"I remember you mentioning it on your top favorites list. So that's what 'Wuthering Heights' is -- a romance?"

"A very atmospheric romance. The hero and heroine -- Heathcliff and Cathy -- used to go there," I pointed at the rocks, "in the film because their love was forbidden. She was wealthy and he was a servant, practically treated as a slave by her brother."

Max nodded. "But despite these obstacles, they loved one another?"

"It's a little more complicated, but yeah, they loved, and lost, and betrayed, and found love and redemption beyond death."

"Would you like to visit it?"

"What? I'm sorry -- you mean,...Peniston Crag?"

"We could have our lunch there, and you can tell me more of 'Wuthering Heights'."

Smiling and taking his offered hand, I replied, "I'd like that very much."

"There's a path over here...."

Fifteen minutes later, we were relaxing on the crag and unpacking our picnic basket. As I had suspected, the kitchen had prepared a nice selection of food, all of which were favorites of mine and I figured Maximus as well. Besides a jug of lemonade, there were a few fresh peaches and pears, and a bowl each of strawberries and grapes; two freshly baked baguettes; a bowl of shrimp and pasta salad; pieces of rotisserie chicken drumsticks and breast quarters; a sampling of cold, sliced lamb and ham; cheese and deviled eggs. The latter, Max admitted, he requested the wonderful head chef -- a Crowe fan named Annabella, who had been recently hired -- fix him on occasion for he enjoyed their uniqueness.

So we sat back, enjoyed the scenery, and the general requested that I tell him the story of 'Wuthering Heights'. I explained there was the Emily Bronte novel, and the famous 1939 Oscar-nominated movie, as well as other lesser movie versions. I had read the novel, but felt it bogged down after about chapter seventeen or eighteen; the 1939 version thankfully ended it with those chapters...and a few adjustments. So I told Max a shortened version of the movie. Only occasionally would he interrupt to ask questions, but for the most part, I realized he was listening intently to me as I wove the complicated love of Heathcliff (with no last name) and Catherine Earnshaw.

Some time later, Maximus was shaking his head, perplexed at a comment I had just made. "Therefore this woman denied this passion for Heathcliff in order to satisfy her own selfishness and greed for social standing with a man she didn't love?"

I nodded. "Well, I think in her own way, she cared for Edgar, but..." I popped a grape into my mouth, "But it was never anything like the love she held for Heathcliff. As she herself said, it was like comparing frost and fire."

"So they destroyed one another in a sense?"

"Cathy and Heathcliff? Yeah...yeah, I suppose they did. Heathcliff marries Isabella because he knows it will not only anger Edgar, her brother, and Cathy, but to help bring down the entire Linton family. Isabella loves Heathcliff, but...but he won't even give her a chance. All he does is look in her eyes and tells her they're empty; that her hair doesn't smell of heather...That...she's *not* Cathy!" I sighed, taking a drink from my glass.

"So they not only destroyed each other, they destroyed all those around them? Then only when Cathy was dying did she finally admit her wrong-doing?" I nodded. "Sad...Very sad...To think there was a time when they came to this spot," he looked around us at Peniston Crag, "and were happy, and loved. So there is a...bittersweetness to the entire episode?"

"I'm afraid so. Admittedly, there are times when you'd love to strangle both of them." The general chuckled as he took a final bite off a drumstick. "And I'll be the first one to admit, they're not as likeable as say, Jack and Rose, or Captain Gregg and Mrs. Muir, or Rhett and Scarlett. But I suppose...they're...."

"Human?"

I smiled. "Yeah...human. So they made tragic mistakes even when you're screaming at the screen for them to come to their senses, but in the end, you realize that they still had a love so strong, it bypassed time and death. That's the lesson I suppose. Too bad it took all of that, but like I said, that's what made it such a strong movie, and why the novel is still read almost two hundred years after Emily Bronte wrote it. No one said that in order to have a great movie, you *had* to have an ultra happy ending. Look at 'Titanic' or 'Gone with the Wind' or 'The English Patient'...."

"Or 'Gladiator'?"

For a moment, I nearly choked as I recalled those final scenes from a movie which won my heart. Bowing my head, I hoped Max did not see the tears threatening to spill as the memory of him seeing his family in Elysium flooded my imagination. And yet, here he was before me...and now reaching out to touch me as if he realized what was happening.

"Are you all right, my dear?" Not speaking, knowing I would hardly be able to form coherent words for a few seconds, I nodded, my eyes shut. "I'm sorry. I should not have...."

Clearing my throat, I looked up at him, knowing he would notice. "It's okay, Max. It's okay...I think..." I looked upward at the clear skies with the whitish clouds I had ever seen, then back at the Spaniard. "All of this makes sense to me on this weird level, but some of it still doesn't." Shrugging, I attempted a light laugh, but found it hard to come. "I...watched you in that movie,...and what happened to you,...but...here you are...."

"Here I am, and it seems quite illogical to what your mind is telling you."

"Very much so, and all of you are just fine."

"Bud has been healed; Colin is alive; yes, even Hando and Sid are alive. Those that should be dead are living,...and I imagine that is what confuses you most of all." Nodding, Maximus sighed. "As I've mentioned,...I have been here such a short time myself. Perhaps one of the others can better explain -- perhaps not. All I know is that..." He paused, thoughtful, then continued: "I saw Pina and my son,...and I was happy...and it was like one of your beloved movies. It all...faded to black and when it became clear again, I was on the main lawn to the Tavern, and Peaches, Liz and some of the men were rushing out to greet me."

"Did you know where you were? Who *they* were?"

"It's funny, but yes I did. It was as though my arrival suddenly awakened this..." He made a fluttering motion near the back of his head. "this...uh...uh...memory I suppose would be the right word...This memory I was unaware of until I saw all of them. Does that make sense to you?"

Smiling, I nodded. "As if you'd been asleep and all of a sudden, you gained consciousness."

"Something like that. It was as if...none of it was out of the ordinary for me. True, it was a world approximately eighteen centuries after my own, but I wasn't totally ignorant of what a television or a movie or an airplane were. It was as if points of reference were planted in my mind; I understood your English language although it should have been foreign to me. I suddenly realized what my existence meant, and who Russell Crowe was. I knew...*them*: Bud, John, Lachlan, the Jeffreys...all of them, and since then, they've told me they all experienced the same."

"Incredible."

"However, we still need time to assimilate ourselves. John has been particularly helpful for we were both men with families, although...John lost his when he came here, and I had lost...mine...beforehand."

"Oh Max." Now I reached out to caress his hand. "Max...I'm sorry."

"None of it is your fault, Tina. What happened before I came was Commodus' doing," and I could not help but notice the hatred in his voice when he practically spat the name 'Commodus.' "What happened upon my arrival,..." He sighed. "What happens while I am here, is up to me. Peaches has explained this is not Elysium or Mount Olympus, or your Heaven, or that place of heroes -- Valhalla. We can become injured; we can die. We're still human -- we have not suddenly become Immortals."

"But John said none of you will grow old or change from the way you are when you come here?"

"And as far as we know, that's accurate. Young Johnny, Andy, Arthur, Dominic -- well, you met Arthur briefly last night," and we both chuckled as we remembered the young clerk's confusion on finding me inthe men's restroom. "The others, did Bud introduce you to them?"

"Briefly yes, but not enough that I would know them immediately on sight or by name yet. It was just a short intro to welcome me."

"Well, none of them have changed since they arrived, not as far as aging I mean. Although Jeffrey Wigand says he wishes he could manage to lose a bit of weight."

I giggled, then my expression grew serious. All of this had made me realize something I had not before. "So...if...you don't die from an accident, or some...life threatening disease...then...when...can you...die?"

Well, if this didn't put a damper on our picnic, I was unsure what would, but it was something I needed to know. I watched as Maximus considered his next words, and realized this was both a question he had asked, and one he had been asked. Fingering the edges of his tunic, he sighed. "We...We don't know, Tina. None of us do, not even Peaches. We've...speculated, we've.... When you spoke of movies last night and today...are there places...like the Nest...where other actors' characters exist?"

My God...he was right, and nodding I replied, "I've only personally visited those belonging to living actors -- Harrison Ford, Michael Keaton. But in one of those places, someone told me they had been to some belonging to...Bogart, and Gable,...and John Wayne, all actors who have died. So their characters live on."

"As long as they are remembered then. We had never considered that."

"So I've answered my own question then?"

"And mine in a manner. So we'll live on even if...even should the Creator pass on,...as long as we're remembered by persons like you and the other ladies, or those fans who simply enjoy his work but aren't seeking the Nest."

"Jesus!" I exclaimed, sitting back against the large rock behind me. "This is *so* wild! I'm sorry I brought up something so depressing...."

"Tina, this isn't depressing. This is a fact of our reality. You've made me consider some things I had not before, and likely neither had the others. I'll have to advise them of our conversation." He chuckled a little. "I have a feeling this will make for some interesting after dinner talks."

"Yeah, well, that's an understatement." Exhaling, I took another drink of lemonade. "Well...this has been quite a picnic."

"Indeed...and right now,...I have not enjoyed a picnic more." Leaning forward, his lips met mine in a tender kiss, and inwardly my heart leapt as I tried once more to accept that this wonderful man found me attractive. If time was practically meaningless here, I still wanted it to halt as I savored each moment with Maximus. My arms instinctively slipped about his neck, my mouth opening to his tongue, and I felt a warming breeze stir my hair.

*Tina*

The word tickled the inside of my ear as it floated on the breeze, and my eyes opened as I gently pulled away. "Did you say...? No...of course you didn't."

"I'm sorry, my dear. Did I say...what?"

"Did you say my name? No, no you couldn't have, we were.... I'm sorry." I realized I not only sounded confused, I likely appeared that way as well.

"No, don't be...You heard...your name?"

"I thought it was you, but that's impossible. It couldn't have been you of course."

"Of course...What...What did the voice say?"

"It just said 'Tina' -- that's all. I'd heard...." I stopped.

"You had heard...This is not the first time you've heard your name?" I started to speak, then paused. "Oh of course not. There was the incident from this morning, when I found you in the outer portion of your suite.

You said you thought you heard...voices?" I nodded. "And it was the same this time?"

"No, no not this time. This time it was only my name. But I heard it all again earlier...when we were at the hotel restaurant waiting for our order."

"The same ones?"

"I think so." Why was I reluctant to tell him whose voices they belonged to? "I don't know. You're going to start to think I'm completely nuts, Max. Usually when you start to hear voices in your head like that, the guys in the white coats are ready to cart you off to the padded room." I smiled on seeing his puzzlement. "Just a saying -- sorry...No, I've never heard voices before. I don't know...maybe it's just the excitement of being here."

His voice was soft, thoughtful as he glanced away. "Perhaps," came the single word, then he looked back at me, smiling. "Just more of the magic of this place."

Sighing again, I had the feeling that there was more to it than the general was letting on, but since I did not have a clue myself, I figured I would just leave things as they were. "Well like I said, this place is definitely...different.."

"And as you have mentioned...*that* is an understatement." We both laughed again. "Well, ready to start back? It'll take us a little while and I would not wish to rush you. The Nest is a place you should take little by little, and we've yet to see the airfield and a few other places."

Beginning to gather our trash and what food remained, I nodded. "Yeah...there's so much more I'd like you to show me...."

As I mentioned, time passes at a slower pace in the Nest, which is advantageous considering all there is to see and do. I often think an hour in our Real World often equals two or three in our alternate Crowe's World, but not being a physicist, I'm unsure if this is accurate. This was an explanation that would likely cause Einstein to yank out his hair, but a concept I easily accepted.

Max and I took a shorter route back to the main facility, bypassing most of what we had seen before. He showed me a small World War II era airfield where ten vintage planes were in a hangar, including - what Lachlan boasted upon meeting him - his pride and joy, an AVRO Lancaster Bomber.

"Well remember what I told you, love," he said, assisting me off the wing of one golden biplane - which reminded me of the `Rupert Bear' in `The English Patient'. "I'll take you for a spin anytime you like - if the General here will let you go long enough."

Max chuckled, and I replied, "I'm sure Max won't mind if you steal me away for a while." I let one hand glide over the nose. "I adore these old beauties."

"You have a good eye, love... and great taste in machines... *and* men," he added, winking. "I can't get ol' Max here up in one yet."

"Lachlan, I didn't say I would not. I merely said I'm uncertain about an object that takes me miles off the ground, and leaves me feeling out of control of my own life."

Curry laughed. "Oh Max... if it was a horse...."

"Even should Scato and Argento sprout wings like Pegasus, I'd *still* be wary."

We all laughed, and Lachlan threw up his hands. "All right mate, I surrender. You win, but...that doesn't mean," and he eased an arm around my shoulders, "I can't take the lovely sheila here up for a flight."

"Whenever Tina desires."

"Tina?"

"I'll let you know, Lach, but thanks for the offer. I'm looking forward to it."

Taking one more glimpse of the beautiful yellow biplane Curry had promised to take me on at my leisure, the general and I slowly moved away, taking a lane which would lead us closer to our final destinations. Sighing deeply, Maximus looked at me and asked, "Are you all right, Tina?"

"Yeah, I'm fine - fine...I...just wish...." I paused, only continuing when the Spaniard requested that I do. "I wish Laura was here."

I could have sworn his eyes began to shimmer upon hearing her name, although it was not the first time he had heard it. A smile appeared although he was attempting to recover his composure, and for a second I thought /I mentioned her last night, but we were otherwise... involved. Now though...Now...he reacted almost the way I do when Max mentions John's name// "I'm...I'm sorry. Laura?"

"Uh...Laura. My best friend...I spoke of her last night when we were discussing...."

"Oh yes, of course. You called her I think, your oldest and dearest friend." I nodded. "What made you think of her just now?"

"Oh...the planes that's all. She loves planes - flying...."

"I see."

"I just think she'd enjoy seeing all these beautiful old planes. I know for a fact she'd love to fly in one if given half a chance."

Maximus smiled, nodding. "Laura...do you believe she might come? Does she.... Is she a fan of Russell's?"

I giggled, covering my mouth as I did, realizing that the general was taken aback by my reaction. "Sorry...It's just that...well, no, I don't think she is. I tried to get her to go see `The Insider' with me once, and when I mentioned his name, she had never heard of him. I even asked her if she had seen `L.A. Confidential' and whether she had heard of it but no, never seen it."

"Ah...well, I'm sorry to hear that. So...you do not believe she might... come to the Nest?"

Shrugging I answered, "Well no, I didn't say that. It's just that she hasn't seen his movies, or...well, let me put it this way. She may have seen his movies and didn't even realize who he was. I mean, I've seen bits and pieces of `The Quick and the Dead' for a few years now, and I didn't know that was Russell until last night when Cort told me. Actually...when we were in England, we were reading a behind the scenes article on `Gladiator' and she told me she really wanted to see that...." Another breather while I waited for Maximus to react, but this time he nodded almost absently, his mind seemingly elsewhere. "She adores ancient Roman history as much as I do my Tudor England."

"Well...perhaps...after she has been properly introduced to `Gladiator' you can bring her here...tell her of this place."

Actually I planned to tell her sooner than that. This was one secret I would never be able to keep, and she was the only one of my friends and family I could share this with. However to Maximus, I only said I would let her know of the Nest, and it would be her decision as to whether she would come or not.

As my tour continued, I was continually amazed at the facilities, which - by some incredible occurrence no one yet understood - had developed, or were under construction for each of the men. Max pointed towards some perfectly landscaped grounds, explaining that in several months, Wigand would have his own small golf course. There was a garage in the Nest where O'Brien could tinker on a dozen vintage automobiles; closer to town was a second garage where he often kept his own showpiece, a red Chevy Chevelle. Cort had a shooting range, used by all the law enforcement officers, or even those guests who wanted an opportunity to practice.

"What about you?" I asked as I realized how close we were to the main buildings. The Stables were ahead of us.

"I'm sorry?"

"What about you? What do you have? I mean, you have use of the stables, but is there anything else so you can say, 'This isMaximus'?"

He smiled. "I have a ...training area set up a short distance from here, secluded out in the woods. It's not much, but I can exercise my fighting skills."

"But you don't have.... Do you have a garden?"

The general beamed. "A garden -- a garden. No, not yet, although... well, look east, that way," and we walked a little longer until we emerged on a field at least an acre in size. It was cleared, except for seedlings barely one-half foot tall, peeping through the black-brown earth.

"What is it?" I quietly asked.

There was satisfaction in his eyes as he told me, "I plowed this not long after arriving here, and sowed on it a day later. Never in all my life have I seen soil this fertile, not even in Trujillo." He reached down, tenderly stroking a fledgling leaf. "It's wheat."

"Wheat?" I could not help grinning. "Oh Max...."

"The way things grow here, I should have a full harvest before midsummer. Annabella already has her heart set on us having enough stored so she won't have to use grocery flour all the time. I'm going to show them how it is reaped, and separated, and ground...."

"Max, this will be wonderful."

He bowed his head. "Thank you - I'm curious to see how it turns out myself. I haven't...I haven't farmed...since I was home. My...old...home."

"So the wheat is all you have then?"

"The vineyards are on a slope over that bend."

"Aw man...." I exclaimed.

"White, red - I believe it'll be quite a nice harvest, and I've already discussed this with Peaches and Annabella - we're going to develop our own private label here at the Nest."

"Chateau de CrowesNest?" I kidded, and he chuckled. "Or Chateau de Russell?"

"We'll have to see, I suppose. Of course, it will have to age - most of it will at any rate, but I'm going to have a few bottles of one grape set aside for the holidays, the Beaujolais." I briefly told him that new Beaujolais wine was quite popular in the Real World. "Yes, that's what Annabella was telling me, so we'll have something special then."

"Where are the olives?" I began to glance around.

"Where are...? Oh my dear...you *have* retained my movie, haven't you?" We both laughed, and he nodded in the direction of another incline. "The olive trees are that way. Peaches said they appeared just a week or so before my coming, and the fruits are nearly ready."

"My God." I was continually amazed. "Your vineyards, your olives, the wheat...."

"Come harvest time, I'll take you into the fields and let you walk between the rows with me, let you feel it," and for a moment, one hand floated in midair as he imagined the stalks brushing his fingertips, "as I used to feel it. The way I remember...." He suddenly shook his head when his voice drifted, attempting to once more put aside his memories - and what I had witnessed in 'Gladiator'.

"But do you have a small garden yet? Vegetables, herbs, flowers?"

"No, no I don't. I had not yet considered it."

"Well, the only reason why I asked is because...well, when we were leaving the hotel, I noticed some vacant area near where the kitchens are located."

"I've seen that."

"I was going to mention it to you then, but I got distracted and forgot until now. It's just...there's just enough ground there where you could grow maybe a small plot of vegetables, and definitely plenty of herbs...."

"You...know...gardening."

I smiled, shaking my head. "Let me put it this way. If you give me a nice green houseplant, I'll kill it within a week. If you ask me to grow roses outdoors, or herbs, or veggies, I can do it. I used to have a garden at home cause I have such a huge yard, and I much preferred using the ground for a garden than having to mow the grass."

"Outstanding. Do you have one this year?"

"I don't have time anymore. The last garden I had was a couple of years ago: herbs."

"Ah."

"But that was my last one."

"Disappointing crop?"

"No...destructive uncle. My uncle mows our grass, and one afternoon I came home and went into the back yard to pick some lemon verbena and mint for some tea. I had a small area with bricks around it, just to mark it off from the rest of the yard because he'd destroyed plants of mine before: rose bushes, tomatoes. Well," and Max and I started walking in a different direction, "I go out there, intending to pick some leaves to make a pot of tea so I could relax with a magazine. I get out there, and suddenly realize, nearly all of my herbs are gone."

"What?"

"They're gone - my spearmint and peppermint, basil, parsley, rosemary, chamomile, lemon balm, lavender, lemon verbena, sage, tarragon, thyme." My eyes began to water as I rattled them off my list. "I had over two dozen herbs in that little plot, and except for a few plants, every one of them was gone. The only reason why there was even any evidence they'd existed was because a few were still standing, and just barely. It was like something had gone through and either uprooted them or cut them down."

"I don't... But why would your uncle do such a thing?"

"Because my uncle is unfortunately partially blind, but he still attempts to do yard work. When I went and asked him if he had ripped up my herbs when I had them clearly marked, he admitted he had done it. You don't know how much I wanted to think it was some of the neighborhood kids. Then I asked him if knew what he had pulled up, and he said he did but...."

"But? But...what? What type of excuse could he possibly give?"

"He simply said the plants were in the way when he cut the grass. That was it. I slammed his door, then went back to the yard and threw things - dirt, dead plants, bricks.... I thought about damaging his lawn mower or hedge clippers - just anything to get back at him - but... my reason got the best of me."

Max sighed, shaking his head. "I do not understand why he would disturb something which meant so much to you. And is this not *your* home, to do with as you desire?"

"My home, but in his mind, his yards. Anyway, that was the last garden I ever had."

The Spaniard thought silently for a few moments, then he turned and looked over at me as I strolled at his side. "This plot you saw near our kitchens...you said it looked large enough for herbs and some vegetables?"

"Plenty of herbs, especially if you used containers for some. And I think a few compact veggies as well: cucumbers, various beans grown on poles." He was nodding, quiet, as I detailed what I had in mind. "Tomatoes definitely, and maybe some greens - mustard, turnip, collards...."

"Those would be splendid, Tina. Would...Would you consider assisting me in doing this?"

My head jumped at the question. "Would I...? But Max...you're the farmer? You know, Maximus the gentleman farmer instead of Maximus the general."

"But you know herbs, Tina. You mentioned some very few people would even be familiar with, so you have an interest in them, don't you?" Nodding, he continued. "I would appreciate it, if you would assist me in organizing a small plot. The types of things you believe we would be able to grow...."

"I think almost anything would grow here."

"I'm of the same opinion, my dear. So...would you assist me?"

"I'd...I'd be...I'd love to, Max."

"Wonderful. Yes, herbs for the garden - Annabella will love that. She can simply go into the yard and pick what she desires, bypassing the groceries. Fresh vegetables on occasion - homegrown, she'll like that too. Some medicinal herbs - we need those as well." I nodded. "And perhaps...there might be enough room for me to plant some flowering plants; I should like some roses. I know we have rose gardens here, but these would be mine, something even more special."

"That would be fantastic, Max."

"Then I'll speak to Peaches when I next see her. If she gives her permission, we can start planning then."

I smiled, enjoying the idea of him sharing something so special with me. I missed my herb garden, and the thought of having one here at the Nest gave me a thrill, so I was overjoyed to help him in any way possible.

At first I believed us heading directly to the Hotel again, but instead, we went to the right, along a tree-lined trail which appeared within walking distance of the main buildings from what I could gauge as I could see those a short ways off. We had already decided to put off touring the English gardens that afternoon, as Max could tell I was getting tired. It had been a long day after all. The sun was warming my face as a calm breeze stirred my clothes, and already I was imagining the scent of lemon balm being pressed between my fingers. That was why I was taken aback when I began to feel rather cool, actually abnormally cool, as if the temperature around us had suddenly plummeted.

"Max...." I started to say, and noticed only then that he was smiling enigmatically.

"It's all right, Tina. There is just one place I wanted to show you before we go back to the Hotel or the Tavern. I thought you might enjoy seeing it." We continued another five minutes on the same bearings, and the weather persisted in its' peculiar climatic changes. Max spoke again for our conversation until now had consisted of my comments of the day. "Cold?"

Arms wrapped about me I muttered, "Cold and getting colder. I don't get it. What's going on?"

"You'll see," was all he would say, and we stepped down a little as the pavement and grass disappeared, replaced by what I swore was a delicate layer of frost on the ground. I was about to speak when I looked ahead of the fog that suddenly enveloped us, and just as quickly vanished - and my mouth dropped. "Well?" the general asked. "What do you think?"

Dumbfounded and ignoring the below-freezing temperatures, I cautiously moved forward, unable to turn away. Secluded in a small clearing with winter hardy trees at either end was a pond - a frozen pond! Of all the sights at the Nest, this one really caused me to shut my eyes in amazement, then reopen them to see if I was dreaming.

"I...I don't...." I stuttered, as Max laughed.

"Inconceivable, isn't it?"

/No shit Batman// was what I thought, but all I could reply was "No crap!" which made him laugh harder. "How the hell...."

"No one knows. Peaches said all this used to be quite barren, which she hated. They had attempted to landscape on it, but unlike the remainder of the Nest, nothing would flourish. Then late last September, she said, the metamorphosis began. She already knew of John's impending arrival, but the transformation was still surprising," he softly explained, "when all this developed."

"In a warm weather setting?" I asked, mesmerized.

"Exactly. John came the next day."

The near silence was broken by a number of robins taking flight, their movement disturbing clumps of snow caught on the branches. Almost concurrently, I heard something make a gliding sound across the ice as a hard object made contact with it. I almost spoke, then realized someone was on the pond, emerging from a mist suspended over the most northern end. I took a few steps, spellbound, then moved no further as I observed John Biebe make a complete circle, then stop before a net on the opposite side. Using his hockey stick, he removed the puck from where it landed, and targeted it to his starting point.

I have watched skating for many years, but the bulk of that consisted of figure skating, with speed skating, ice dancing and hockey thrown in for good measure. I discovered perfection in each of the sports: whether the beauty of Michelle Kwan, the power of Wayne Gretsky, the grace of Torvill and Dean, or the strength of Dan Jansen or Bonnie Blair. There was something to admire in each, and right now, Mystery's sheriff possessed it all, as I stood there, mesmerized by his actions.

He moved with such effortlessness as he did a simple crossover, his thoughts intent on what he was performing. The elegance was breathtaking, considering there was no triple salchow, no triple axel, no camel spins. As he did not yet realize he was being studied, he was quite casual, occasionally making some playful move as a kid might when no one is around. It made me try to imagine him as a young man of Stevie Weeks' age, or when he was his son Michael's age. His awkwardness as a child, wondering if he would ever be as good as the adults; the hours spent honing something he had such a passion for. I could just see him perhaps telling Donna that he questioned if he would *ever* be good enough for the Saturday game. He had been about twenty-one when he was "called up". Was he nervous, hoping to show that the committee had not made a mistake selecting him? Was there someone he replaced, or did they ease him into the game? So many questions I would like to ask him, I thought as I took another step, afraid I'd disturb his reverie.

Biebe went to a cooler sitting off to the side, removing an unknown number of pucks, which were then carefully lined up near one of the nets. He double-checked the black cloth tape around the blade of his stick -- I didn't understand the purpose of that, then with the greatest concentration, began to strike one puck after another -- seven in all -- all at differing angles. All I could figure was that he was not only practicing his passes, but his footwork as well. For a second, I recalled Charlie "Fucking" Danner's 'Sports Illustrated' article and the pointed criticism of John's speed as a player (why was it the word "fucking" somehow slipped in every time I thought of that little prick). There was likely some truth to the statement, but I also imagined a lot of it was ground in jealousy by someone who couldn't stand on ice without slipping on his ass. And out here on the pond, on the black ice, believing himself alone, John was completely at ease. Anyone seeing him now would never have cared if he were "slow in the foot".

I shivered uncontrollably as Maximus came down to my side, and I emitted a soft "Brrr" sound, not intending to. Biebe looked up just as he slammed the last puck into the net, and he smiled. I smiled back, the warmth of his expression making me forget the chill that engulfed me. I knew my eyes were dancing admiringly as the sheriff skated to where we stood, a bit of ice spraying into the air as he came to a stop. At first I had thought he would hate being disturbed, but instead he looked thrilled.

"Didn't know I had an audience," he remarked, bowing his head to me in greeting. I tried not to blush, but could feel my cheeks burning uncontrollably as his blue-green eyes sparkled. "Tina, how are you?"

"Fine thanks. How are you?"

"Pretty good -- pretty good," and he looked briefly over his shoulder, back at what he had been doing. "Max."

"John -- sorry we bothered you."

"No problem -- just doing a little workout. I've been out here a while; wasn't going to be long before I headed inside anyway. You two on the way back to the Tavern?"

"Well, we were on our way back, yes," the Spaniard explained, "but I thought Tina might enjoy seeing this before we did."

"I didn't have a clue where he was taking me, and God knows, I never thought it would be anything like this. John, this is..." I shrugged, still bewildered, "so...incredible."

Biebe was grinning, obviously delighted. "That's what everyone says when they see this place. Hell, that's what *I* said when Peaches brought me here."

"But it's just like the pond -- your pond from the movie, I mean. This is where the big game should have been played, in conditions exactly like this, instead of the way it ended up."

"A girl after my own heart," the Alaskan said, and I watched as he casually pushed his hair back from where it fell slightly over his face. Although wearing a black toboggan (or a touque, as Michelle would later inform me was what they were called in other parts of the world), thick auburn strands still managed to slip away. Again, I was entranced by this habit of his, and my cold breath nearly catching in my lungs, I suddenly coughed.

"Are you all right, my dear?" "You okay, darlin'?" came the questions at once, and I nodded.

"I'm fine guys, thanks. Swallowed the wrong way, that's all."

"You must be getting cold anyway," Max said.

"Yeah, I saw you shivering, would you like to put on my jacket? It's right over...."

"Oh no, that's okay John. Thanks anyway."

"You sure?" There was natural concern in his voice, and I thought how sweet he was looking after my health this way.

"I'm fine -- really. I'm a lot more used to the cold than you'd think. Comes from standing on bus stops all these years during the winter, or working scenes out in the cold."

"But," Maximus continued, "you're still not dressed for this. We were only going to stay a short time anyway."

Biebe's face dropped a bit, disappointed, then he quickly recovered with a shy smile. "Oh...Well, I'm glad you could stop by. It's been a while since I had anyone watch me."

"I enjoyed it a lot," I replied, forgetting the cold, and I pointed towards the pucks strewn inside the net. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"I saw you take those pucks out of an ice chest...the...uh...cooler over there, and I thought that was just too weird. You're on ice, the pucks are on ice, you take them *out* of ice." The sheriff chuckled. "Forgive me for sounding so stupid, but why did you do that?"

"Hardens the pucks so they don't bounce as much, darlin'," he answered me in a way which was not condescending. "I know it seems silly cause like you said, you're on ice, the pucks are on ice, but yeah, that's why we do it. Plus that, it makes them easier to control too."

"I never knew that," I replied, and for some reason, it made sense to me once he explained it that way.

"You watch much hockey?"

"A little. Guess I started when the U.S. beat Russia...."

"Back in '80?" I nodded. "Yeah, I guess that game made a lot of people fans, although in the last Olympics, our team left a lot to be desired."

"I remember that. Didn't they trash some hotel rooms, and just make complete asses of themselves?"

"Pretty much. Like hockey doesn't have enough of a black eye to begin with, especially in the pro ranks. That sure as hell didn't help any; just made people think, 'See...what did I tell you? A bunch of toothless half-wits that don't know any better.'" I snickered, trying not to laugh full force, but when John did, I covered my mouth and laughed harder. "Sweetheart, I've heard all the jokes, trust me...So, you watch a little hockey then?"

"Yeah, a little. I sometimes try to catch the Pittsburgh Penguins when they play -- that's Michael Keaton's hometown, so that was one reason I sort of followed them, that and Mario Lemieux when he was still playing."

"Do they...uh...play hockey in Kentucky?"

Nodding I answered, "Yeah we do, and actually we have a team in Louisville. Well, we did anyway. We had one, then they left, then we got another one -- the Riverfrogs -- but I don't know if we still have them or not. I think we might, but they're called something else now...the...the...oh, I think the Panthers."

"For the Florida Panthers?"

"That's it!"

"Okay -- that's your parent team then?"

"Exactly, just like the Cincinnati Reds are the parent team of our Redbirds."

"I guess I never thought of them playing hockey in Kentucky."

"No, but then neither can I. I always figured hockey wouldn't go far around there because you can't dribble a puck, or dunk one either...at least, not with any accuracy," I joked.

John burst out laughing. "It's awfully hard to do, but hey, your net's not that far off the ground either. So, do you follow...I don't know...the Wildcats or the Cardinals?"

I know there was a stunned expression on my face when he asked. "Excuse me?"

"Are you a Wildcats fan, or do you follow the Cardinals?"

"I...well, I graduated from the University of Louisville, so I'm chiefly a Cardinals fan -- have been for years. I follow both teams...but I guess my heart will always be with the Cards."

"How did they do this past season?"

"They sucked," I admitted honestly. "They haven't done well in.... Okay, I have to ask you this. How the heck do you know the Cardinals? I know you said you were in Louisville forever ago for that SPI Homicide School, but...."

"The Great Alaskan Shootout," he said matter of factly.

"Oh my.... That's right -- Louisville used to come up to Alaska all the time for those."

"I saw them play a few years back, and since SPI is at the Louisville campus, I just sort of followed them a bit."

I shook my head in amazement. I had never imagined our conversation taking this route. "I'm totally floored."

"So they suck, eh?"

"They nearly got put on probation a while back; the recruiting has been iffy -- it's a long story. It's been a long time since our last championship -- 1986 to be honest. We came real close a couple of times. The last time the Final Four was in Indianapolis, Louisville was in the Elite Eight -- I could almost taste the finals, but they lost. I'm just hanging in, trying not to be delusional and hope to God it turns around before the whole program goes down the toilet."

"Understood. Any suggestions?"

"Tina," came a soft-spoken voice, and I turned to see Maximus smiling and patiently listening. Blinking, I suddenly realized John and I had been talking and somehow, I had forgotten the general was even there.

"Max...I'm sorry."

"No, it's all right, my dear. I was just thinking," and he looked from me to the Alaskan, then back to me again. "I promised when we got back that I would meet with Peaches and Liz to discuss some matters...."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Max," John apologized. "We just got to talking. Didn't realize...."

"Max, you should have said something."

"Well, that is why I was thinking...if you wish to stay longer, I can head back to the Tavern for my meeting. You and John here seem to be having quite an interesting conversation."

"Max, it's okay I can...."

"No, it's fine with me, Tina, trust me it is."

Grinning, I didn't even bother attempting to hide my enthusiasm at the prospect of spending more time with John, but I hoped I was not upsetting Max in the process. "You're sure?" I softly asked.

His smiled broadened. "I am positive. John can take good care you."

"You have my word on that, Max." The sheriff appeared as excited as I did. "As a matter of fact, we'll go ahead and move inside the rink. I know it's still cold, but not as cold as it is out here. I know Tina's not complaining but..." and he smiled as I vibrated up and down, blowing on my hands before rubbing them together, "she needs to warm up. We've got hot chocolate and coffee inside."

"Thanks I appreciate it."

"So it's settled then, and my dear, I will see you later for dinner."

"Sounds great, Max."

Max left almost immediately afterwards, stressing that he wanted me to hurry inside the rink. So there was no kiss good-bye, although I knew the general would not have been too terribly intimate. Being a private man, he would not be overly demonstrative, even in front of Biebe, whom I considered his best friend. However, he did give me a gentle kiss on the forehead, an action that made me smile outwardly and inwardly.

"Until later," he told me. "John, take care."

"You too, Max, thanks."

The moment the Spaniard departed, John tugged on my hand. "You're freezing darlin' - let's get you inside. Here," and he hurried to where his coat - the one I remembered him wearing at the start of the movie - neatly hung from a heavy, bare limb. "Put this on, Tina. It's insulated..."

"Thanks," and I gratefully slipped it on.

"...and it'll be big on you, but it'll warm you up. That coat took me through some great winters up in Mystery. Check the pockets; you can use my gloves."

"Found them - - thanks. Won't you be cold?"

"Nah...this is nothing, but I don't want you to catch anything."

"My hero," I said, and he gave a lopsided smile, his complexion growing crimson. I felt warmer already, the huge coat nearly swallowing me - something that made me pleased with my weight loss. In year's past, I might have barely squeezed it on, and if I did, it would have been tight in several areas. Instead, there was so much room I was able to literally wrap it around the front of me, an act causing John to laugh quietly.

"Looks great on you. I'll be right back darlin' - let me get my things."

"Is there anything I can help you with?" I asked, walking around the edge of the pond in an attempt to follow. He rushed to the net, collecting the pucks and putting those inside the cooler.

"I can get it all!" he called over at me.

"Please...I don't mind, John. What can I carry inside for you?"

"Well, if you'll grab the ice chest - it's not heavy - I'll manage the rest of my equipment."

"I can do that," and I picked it up by the two handles.

"Okay...just follow that little footpath over there. Do you see it?" I nodded as my eyes followed what his index finger indicated. "That'll take you right inside the rink."

"How will you...."

"There's an ice track I can skate in on. Don't worry...I'll be right behind you practically. I'll sort of come in on the other end, but if you follow the short tunnel, you'll come right out at the bleachers. Just stay in that spot, and I'll be there before you know it."

"All right then."

I rushed in the direction John had pointed to, only now beginning to realize just how cold I was becoming, and quite thankful for the warmness of his jacket and the cushioning in his gloves. Out of the corner of one eye, I could see the sheriff skating his way towards the building, so that about the time I pushed the bar to open a blue metal door, I saw him disappear into an opening.

The heat hit me immediately. Fumbling in the pocket of my oversized, lightweight gray sweater, I located a tissue, removed my wire-framed glasses, and cleaned the lenses as they had fogged up on coming inside. Getting my bearings, I quickly walked the short, moderately lit tunnel, heaving a sigh, thrilled to be warm, even momentarily. It only took a moment to come out on the other end, and when I did, once my eyes adjusted to the brighter lights, I saw I was midway a series of bleachers overlooking an enormous ice rink. Inhaling deeply, briefly closing my eyes, I relaxed, enjoying my first visit inside a place like this. I had been uncertain what to expect, and part of me expected perhaps the staleness of a roller rink (which I have visited, mostly to work crime scenes of varied types). Instead my senses were assaulted by a fragrance which -- had I still been tired -- would have awakened me at once.

"Aw crap," I muttered as my glasses fogged again, and I quickly cleaned them, not wanting to miss a thing. My concentration on the smells returned, and I tried to put my finger on what exactly it reminded me of, and then I remembered. Nineteen ninety-four: the winter we had the one of the worst snowstorms in Louisville history,working a burglary scene when we got the worst of it, and by the time I was done, the snow had accumulated nearly to my waist. Considering I am only five foot two inches, that was a disaster. But I was mainly recalling the next morning, when I finally left the office and headed home three hours late. The world was silent, broken only by the slushing sound one hears when stepping in snow; there was a crispness to the air, and such a sweet, fresh scent as though the snow had cleansed everything. I could smell the same now, accompanied by the oaken aroma of the bleachers, so this was a new experience for me. "No perspiration, no stink," I whispered, as I retrieved the ice chest and maneuvered the steps to a lower level. "I like this." I did, and eagerly I hurried along the sidelines, trying to get from behind the shatterproof glass shielding the spectators from the actual action.

I finally discovered a small area not far from where I entered, and I leaned forward, trying to get a better view. The Zamboni appeared to be at the far opposite end, and it was a new looking one, not the antique Danner had brought to Mystery. The boards were painted a soft neutral color, and I smiled, realizing that there were not only advertisements promoting Australia, Alaska, Rome, Los Angeles, Louisville, and several other major travel spots. Movie posters had been erected as well: several beautiful ones for 'Gladiator'; at least two for 'L.A. Confidential'; one for 'Mystery, Alaska,' a poster similar to the video jacket, and I immediately spotted John amidst the hockey team. There were Australian beer ads, an anti-tobacco public service announcement -- it seemed that all of them in some way related to Russell.

"You made it!" a voice echoed. Looking up and to my right, I saw John skating towards me.

"Yeah...and this...is wonderful."

"Thanks."

"Did it appear before you came?"

"Appear? No, Peaches had this built," he explained as he came to a stop in front of me. For a moment, I nearly forgot that he was on ice when I opened the little wooden swinging door, and prepared to step out. Actually, I was paying closer attention to John than where I might step. Only when smiling, the sheriff gently took my wrist and eased me back where I had been did I suddenly realize what I'd nearly done. "Careful there, darlin'. I don't think those boots will work well out here. At least, not without me lending you a very careful hand."

I reddened, embarrassed. "Sorry...I'm just so excited."

"No problem." We both looked down to where his gloved hand still tenderly gripped my wrist, and neither of us moved. Why, I wondered, did I suddenly wish our gloves were removed so I might feel what his fingertips were like against my flesh? Instead, we both nervously laughed, and returned to some semblance of normalcy. Still, I could not help recalling the previous evening, when John had touched me on several occasions, and how it had filled me with a warmth even this heavy coat could not accomplish. "Now what was I... Oh yeah, no, Peaches had this built right after I came. You asked...did it...appear?" I nodded. "Max must have told you about the pond area?"

"That was so incredible."

His smile was wistful. "Yeah...I still find it hard to believe, and I get out there three or four times a week."

"But it just appeared out of nowhere."

"Yeah...sort of like I did," he replied, but his laugh had a certain sadness to it.

"Max...told me about his arrival. I guess all of you sort of came the same way then?"

"Yeah...we've compared notes, and we did, for the most part I guess." He glanced around him for a moment, then looked back at me again. "I can't even imagine how some of the younger guys felt when they came here -- must have been hard on them."

"I'd never even considered that....So...if you don't mind me asking...how did you come?"

He put aside the large bag containing his hockey stick and other equipment, then sighed. "I don't mind at all, sweetheart. I wish there was a lot I could tell you, but I can't. Like I said, we've told our individual stories, and it all happens pretty much the same. But with me...." He stopped, then cleared his throat. "Bud remembers looking out the rear windshield at Exley; Max swears he was in Elysium -- or part of him was...I...Funny...mine didn't end immediately like it would when a movie ends." He must have noticed the question on my face at his words "mine didn't end" for he added, "Oh...when I say 'mine didn't end' I guess I mean my existence in that world, universe, whatever. Mystery."

"Your life went on then?"

"I guess maybe because I didn't have this abrupt ending -- I didn't die; I hadn't almost died. Sure we lost the game, but it wasn't like the shootout or what happened with Max. Jeff Wigand says almost the same. He swears he went on for days before he arrived here."

As John opened the swinging door and stepped through, I relaxed on one of the bleachers, intent on what he had to say. "And you did too?"

He smiled. "Yeah I did, but there...there was just this part of me that kept...nagging at me, as if something was wrong, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it?"

"I know that kind of feeling." Such as when I was out driving yesterday, and felt as if I was searching for something, but was uncertain what.

"It didn't last a long time. I had helped Donna put the boys to bed, then...I told her I was going outside for a little. Nothing unusual about that...I walked a little distance from the house...I...I...remember seeing a shooting star, and thinking how great my life was at that moment,...and for the strangest reason, for the first time, I thought of Russell Crowe. It was like having an epiphany."

Similar to the one I had when I realized that was John's voice I was hearing. "So what happened, John?"

"I closed my eyes...just for a second...as if the movie was fading to black...and when I opened them again, I was on the main road walking towards the Nest, and it seemed so natural."

I was nodding thoughtfully. "Max said it was like another memory opened up to him, and he knew everyone and everything."

"Same here...The only funny thing was..." and he took a seat beside me, removing his gloves and blowing on his hands, "I thought Donna and my kids would be here too." He shrugged, his eyes and smile a bit sad. "I was wrong."

"I'm sorry." I didn't know what else to say to him, only guessing at the pain he had undergone these last months without the family he adored. Almost slapping my forehead for having yet made another conversation drift into a sad direction, I chided myself with /Good going there, Tina//

"Not your fault, Tina," John replied, his voice a mixture of acceptance and resignation. "Not your fault. Why is it all you ladies always blame yourselves when we get on this subject? And we do -- a lot."

"We all do?"

"Never fails. Even Peaches and Liz apologized; hell, Andy and Arthur practically apologized, and they were in the same boat as me. Nobody's to blame. It's just this weird... I don't know how to explain it, and after eight months, I'm still figuring it out. Hell, eighty years from now, I'll probably *still* be trying." We both laughed. "It's taken a while for me to get this far with it, but I'm slowly getting there."

"It's so nice you can help Max, even if you're still confused."

"My pleasure, believe me. The two of us hit it off the second we met, although there's what? Eighteen centuries separating our lives?"

"Something like that. I think..." Hesitating, I watched John indicate I should continue. "Well, I think you and Maximus have a good deal in common. You're both quiet, reflective, trusting, honorable men. Your word means everything, and loyalty isn't just some old-fashioned concept. You protect the ones you love and care about. Both of you...you're...good...men."

There was the blush I was becoming so accustomed to in all the Boyz, but John and Maximus deserved my compliments and my admiration. "That's very nice of you, darlin'. Thank you."

"You're very welcome." Returning his smile, I suddenly felt so comfortable in his company, it was as though we had been friends for years. A good deal of the bashfulness exhibited when we were alone in the Tavern was non-existent, but the sheriff was in his own comfort zone now. We remained quiet, scanning our surroundings, and I considered how wonderfully bracing the air was in there. And Biebe was so handsome. Now where did that come from? But it was true, wasn't it, as I observed him remove his cap so as to run his fingers through those thick auburn locks. /Oh Lord// was all I could think as he swept the fallen hair back from his eyes. /Does he realize what he does to a girl when he....// "I'm sorry, John, what was that?" I asked, realizing he had spoken to me.

"How about taking a spin around the rink with me?"

I started laughing. "Oh no, John -- I don't think so; I can't skate."

"You can't...." He seemed sincerely perplexed. "You don't skate?" I shook my head. "Not a lick?"

"Not a lick. I roller skated once as a kid, but that was more like me cleaning the rink floor with my behind for most of the evening. I've never ice skated in my life, although believe me, I love the sport."

"We'll have to change that then, won't we? How about a lesson when you feel like it?"

"A... Do you mean that?" He nodded, pleased by my obvious enthusiasm. "Well, if you have the patience to teach somebody who's not a kid...."

"You're never too old to learn, darlin'. I give lessons all the time. Hell, I probably could have taught Chuckie-Boy to skate if he wasn't such a...."

"Prick?"

"Close enough. Seriously though Tina, just let me know when and I'll be more than happy to give you some pointers. And don't worry about skates; I'm sure we can find a pair to fit you. Just bring yourself."

"And plenty of padding." I was smiling so broadly, I feared my cheeks would break. "Okay John -- great. I'll look forward to that."

Tugging his gloves back on, he stood and moved back onto the ice, a simple action which amazed me. Legs together, he maneuvered backwards, stopping a few feet away. "Okay, so we won't have your first skating lesson today, but how about a refresher course in hockey? You game?"

"Now *that*," and I sprang up, "I could definitely stand. Honestly, no one's ever *explained* the game to me, so I had to figure it out just by watching. But it was the same when I was in England, and I watched rugby on TV. I picked up on some of the rudimentary stuff."

"Oh, we've got a couple of rugby players here at the Nest. Great game. Okay darlin'...you just stay along the sidelines and follow me."

"Okay."

Biebe skated towards the center and I hurried along, wanting to prove myself a good student. When he arrived at a blue spot he called to me, "If there's something you understand already, let me know. I don't want to treat you so totally stupid that I'm saying," and he slowed his voice as if speaking to the most empty-headed person in the world, "'Uh...this...is...a...puck.'"

Giggling I responded, "I'll definitely let you know if you get too condescending, Sheriff."

"I had a feeling you would. Okay then...the painted lines divide the rink into zones, and there are also dots and circles indicating other key areas. This line here," and he pointed down to a red line which 'split' the ice in equal halves, "is the centerline. The blue spot here at the center is where play starts."

"Got it."

"See the blue lines?" I nodded. "They're about sixty feet from each goal; those represent the end zones, and the sections between those are the neutral zones. Now...if the team is on defense, the section they're defending is the defending zone...."

"Makes sense."

"But your opponent's area is -- and you were getting ready to say the opponents' zone, weren't you?" Nodding, I laughed. "It's actually called the attacking zone."

"I like that better anyway." I growled, causing John to chuckle as he watched me bend slightly at the waist, preparing for an oncoming attack. "Grrrr!...The attacking zone!"

"I'm scared of you, little girl!" he teased, our laughter echoing in the cavernous building. "Wish we'd had you when we played the Rangers. Even Tree would have been shaking.... All right then...If you'll climb up in the bleachers so you're a little higher, you'll be able to see this better as I explain....Great....Now...there are eight red spots painted on the ice. See 'em?...Well, if play is stopped during a game...."

No, John Biebe was not condescending. In fact, although he would have admitted he was no coach, he still made an excellent teacher as far as I was concerned, easily guiding me through my impromptu Beginning Hockey 101 class. His quiet voice never increased unless we were on opposing ends of the rink, and he happily answered any questions I thought silly, but he felt showed an eagerness. Eventually, after a very quick half-hour, the two of us got something warm -- coffee with cream for him, French Vanilla cappucino for me -- then relaxed on the home team's bench.

Peeling off his brown jersey and his gloves, he exhaled deeply and sat back. "Well darlin', was it too much for day one?"

"Not at all," I replied, sipping from my styrofoam cup, enjoying the taste of a drink which had come from an instant machine. It wasn't Starbucks, but in a pinch, when you're cold and thirsty, it would do."I've had a great time." He nodded his appreciation. "It was so much nicer than watching that stupid blue or purple streak when Fox televised the NHL."

"Wasn't that horrible?"

"Gave me migraines. Anyway, you might have to give me a refresher whenever I come back, but it's all making sense to me."

"Great...Well, glad it's all not a loss then."

"Not at all. I've had a wonderful time....So...you didn't tell me. What position do you play? Or did you play?"

"In the Saturday game, I was usually right wing, but we interchanged a lot. Your wingman stays on their proper side of the rink, whether it's on defense or offense."

"And that's where you perfected the art of the pass, huh?"

Blushing a little, he said, "Yeah, that's me. John Biebe, the DaVinci of the pass and slow in the foot."

"Charlie Danner could have kissed my behind." I thought John was going to spit up his coffee, he laughed so hard. "Well, it's true. Jealous son-of-a-bitch." Deepening my voice so it was nearly a baritone, I whined, "'John's looking a little well-fed, isn't he?' Yeah, I'd like to well feed him with my knee in his groin."

"Oh whoa!" the Alaskan exclaimed, still laughing, but grimacing too. "Aw man...I'm glad Chuckie-Boy wasn't around you, darlin'. You'd have taken a bite out of him for sure."

"With pleasure," and I made a gnawing sound with my teeth. However, what I thought was /Like Donna *should* have. Okay, I loved her comeback, but still...why *did* she laugh like that at some of the things Charlie said? Why did her eyes sparkle that certain way a woman's does when a man flatters her? Ah, that was it...Sure she was flattered. You're married thirteen years; have three kids. You want to know you're still sexy. But it's not like John was.... I don't get it. Why would any woman -- unless she needed psychiatric help and a stronger prescription for her glasses -- even give Charlie Danner a second glance if she was married or even dating someone like John. Now maybe if Chuckie-Boy looked like Billy Zane....//

"You must be tired though, Tina."

"Tired, no, not really. Max and I took a nice leisurely walk. I don't even think it took that long to get where we were going; the Nest just seems to open up wherever you are. It doesn't take long to reach something that's exactly what you're looking for."

"Well, next time you visit, if you and Max aren't busy, maybe I could show you.... Well, I don't know whether he told you that some of the Nest is almost like Alaska."

"He did...and I've always wanted to visit Alaska."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Only I imagined a cruise ship with my own balcony so I wouldn't get jostled around up on deck. Most of these newer ships are eighty percent private balconies now."

"So I've heard. That's a great way to see Alaska." John looked down at his cup as we grew quiet, the only sound our breathing. At an angle, I glimpsed his profile: the way his hair fell about his cheek; the strength of his jawline; one corner of his lips, which I knew were formed into an almost perfect bow-shape. As though realizing my thoughts were upon him, he looked back at me and smiled, an action I reciprocated.

"I...I meant to thank you, John," I shyly managed when our eyes locked for several moments, and we sat there, unmoving, unspeaking. Blinking, I had a fleeting thought of feeling safe and protected in his arms.

"Thank me, sweetheart? What for?"

"For what you guys did for me last night, after Sid accosted me."

"Well, don't be surprised if he tries again; he hates giving up, but more than likely, he'll move on to some other unsuspecting visitor. That's how Sid is."

I shook my head. "I don't know why you all put up with him."

"We do because, like I said, he's one of us, Tina -- like Hando, or Kim, or some other bastard Russell might play in the future. But that's what makes *him* a consummate actor. He's not afraid to play a Maximus or Sid, unlike some actors who will only play a 'good guy,' or win awards because they recite some catch phrase." To myself, I thought of 'Life is like a box of chocolates' or 'Show me the money,' and I wanted to gag. Biebe continued. "As weird as it sounds, we're all brothers."

"Brothers...yeah, that is weird." We laughed softly, and I sighed, fingering the edge of the sheriff's coat. "Well anyway, thank you."

"Anytime sweetheart, you know that. Although...you weren't doing so bad yourself. You played Sid like the proverbial harp."

"I might have, but I was scared shitless."

"You never showed it. I had to nudge Max and Bud to let them know how good you were, but they already knew. Sid was right about one thing though."

"Oh Lord -- what?"

"You *will* make quite an addition to the CrowesNest."

"Thanks John. I don't ever think I've felt so welcome anywhere."

"That's our intent...to make you feel like this is your second home...or your first home, depending on the circumstances. Don't forget that."

"I'll try not to..." We were silent once more, and I thought of him departing my suite last night. He knew what had happened between Maximus and me, but still he was kind enough to offer to give me skating lessons, and take me to his favorite places in the Nest. Again, I wondered where he had gone after I last saw him, and again --so many of those -- I felt as if I needed to tell him something, so he would know there had been nothing personal in choosing the general over him. John had been such a perfect gentleman; so understanding of my confusion. But when I spoke I instead said, "I...just wish Sid hadn't said the things he did about you all."

"Oh, 'The Three Stooges', you mean? That was mild compared to some of the crap I've heard him say, especially after Max's arrival. You can just tell how much he despises him, and Max hasn't given him reason for that. He can't help it if 'Gladiator' is a phenomenom."

"And 'Virtuosity' wasn't. Sid...really *is* jealous of Max, isn't he?"

"Sweetheart, he's jealous of anyone who gets more attention than him. For the longest time, if you think about it, Sid was the king around the Nest. Cort might have given him a little aggravation, but Sid never felt threatened."

"So when did he?"

"Bud."

"Yeah -- yeah, I can see that, most definitely."

"Bud was the one who really put Russell on the map in the States. Colin and Steve came the same year, but Bud...he was main one. He gave Sid the most problems cause he'd never back down. Then along came '99 -- I came, then Jeff Wigand; the Oscar nomination."

"You're not going to tell me that Sid is jealous of Jeffrey Wigand, are you?"

"Maybe not him per se, darlin', but definitely the fact that Jeff gave Russell an Oscar nomination. You have to think the way Sid does, Tina. He's told us more than once that RC should have received an Oscar for playing him."

"You have *got* to be kidding? An Oscar for playing Sid!"

"This is Sid talking, remember? Sid's logic is that if they could give Anthony Hopkins a Best Actor award for playing Hannibal Lecter, he doesn't understand why Russell was left out of the running for being him. But still...he doesn't dislike Jeff the way he does Maximus."

"So what about you?"

"What about me, darlin'?"

"How does Sid feel about you? Does he consider you...competition?"

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, John sighed, a blush creeping into his cheeks as he turned his head slightly. "Well you know, to be honest...my movie wasn't a big box office hit...It sort of came, and it went. It wasn't 'L.A. Confidential' or 'The Insider'." Now it was my turn to look briefly away, not wanting him to see the tears springing into my eyes. "It was just a small movie Russell obviously enjoyed doing, and he threw himself into it...but like a lot of movies, it got lost. You said it yourself, Tina...you can't even remember a review of it."

"That doesn't make you any less special, John...you, or your movie." He looked at me, those blue-green eyes filled with a longing I had not expected to see. For a second, the words caught in my tightened throat, and I could not think.My mind was drifting again, but this time, it was me and not Donna Biebe laying in that snowbank, with John on top of me, capturing my mouth in a kiss. What the hell was wrong with me? Shaking my head, I finally said, "I...I think it has its' fans, and it'll probably make more thanks to 'Gladiator'."

"I know it has. Max made you seek out RC's other movies, right?" I smiled, nodding, glad to see his mood uplifting. "A lot of the others who come, they've seen 'Mystery, Alaska' too, thanks to Max. I owe him a lot."

"So then...*does* Sid consider you competition now?"

"He probably figures we all are now, again, because of Max. But Bud most definitely, and of course Max; Jeff Wigand on a certain level; hell, even Cort. There are a few of the others who might draw someone here...East, Colin...I don't know. And who knows who will come in the future. All I know is, things will never be the same again for Sid."

"Well, he was obviously in rare form last night when he was laying into you three....I'm...I'm so sorry you had to hear that, John."

"Sid's said a whole lot worst. That was fairly tame, even for him, and actually, some of it was sort of funny. When he was doing that Maxie the Wonder Dog imitation, I'm surprised any of us kept a straight face."

"But you thought that was tame?"

"Do you know what he did when Maxie the Wonder Dog got here? Sid locked himself in his room, and wouldn't come out for two days. He was like some spoiled brat not getting his way. Then when he finally came out, he walked right up to Max, looked him in the eye and said, 'I was here first, don't forget that...*General*.'"

"Oh my God."

"When the 'Neanderthal' arrived, Andy said Sid pretty much tried an earlier version of that on Bud...and almost got the shit beat out of him."

"Good for Wendell...So, what about when you arrived?"

John shrugged. "Sid looked me up and down...I still remember that. I was wearing jeans, a plaid shirt, a sweater, and he was all in green silk. He looked at me and said, 'Well...Russell really let himself go to play you, didn't he...Tubby?'"

I gasped. "He said what?!"

"Sweetheart, I've been hearing the fat jokes since I got here. It's Sid's little way of telling me I'll never be as 'beautiful' as him."

"Who'd want to be? Son-of-a-bitch! I hated what he said about you, John, that's why I hoped you didn't hear all of it. He seemed to take such pleasure out of letting me know...."

"You wouldn't want to be suffocated by whale blubber."

"John," I whispered, not understanding how he could take it all so calmly.

"Tina...Sid can't hurt me. He can say what he wants, but I know who I am, and I'm happy...What surprised me was that you became so defensive when he said those things. I know you were trying to pretend as though it didn't bother you, but I could tell, especially when he made that one comment...you know, about me being slow in the foot."

"Yeah," I said softly, mentally finishing Sid's 'slow in the crank' comment in my head.

"Why *did* that upset you the way it did?"

"Why? Probably because I've been heavy my whole life, and I've only recently lost a lot of weight...about ninety pounds actually."

John whistled in admiration. "Ninety pounds?! Oh wow, Tina, that's wonderful. Congratulations."

"Thanks. His remarks just rubbed me the wrong way, but honestly,...who the hell is he and Chuckie-Boy seeing when they talk about you being 'well-fed'? John...you are *not* fat! Or well-fed! Or...Or...whatever else those two bastards might think about you!"

John started laughing, which caused me to join in. "I appreciate the cheering squad, sweetheart....But thanks...Thanks for...uh...coming to my defense like that."

"No problem."

Our laughter eased, replaced by soft smiles, and time stood still. John leaned towards me as if he wanted to say more, but the words would not come, and I could only sit there, paralyzed, refusing to break eye contact with him. I felt myself tremble as I sat the empty cup aside, and folded my fidgeting hands in my lap. *What had he wanted to ask me?* returned to me, and I shut my eyes, the warmth of the Alaskan's breath coming near my face. And then it happened: a brief pressing of his lips upon mine, an action which ended almost the second I realized it had begun. Still, I had offered no resistence although I knew my heart belonged to Max. /Does my heart belong to Max?// We parted, both of us silent and astonished at what had occurred, our eyes searching each other as if seeking some answer.

"I'm sorry." John spoke first, his embarrassment apparent. "I...I shouldn't have...I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I quickly said.

"No, no, I shouldn't...."

"John...John...it's...it's okay," I assured him, one hand touching the back of one of his. "It's okay."

"I won't let that happen again."

"John!" He looked at me, only now seeing that I was not upset with him and what he felt was a betrayal of Max's trust. "It's okay...It's okay. I'm not...Nothing's wrong. It's all right."

"You're sure?"

I nodded, my fingers unconsciously drifting to my mouth. "We're friends. I kissed you on the cheek last night when you left. Friends...can kiss."

"Yeah...Yeah, I...I guess they can." He smiled; so did I, and we heaved a sigh of relief that it had been settled.

The ringing phone startled me and I jumped a bit, laughing when I did. John grinned and started skating away from me. "Does that every time. I guess they keep it so damn loud so you can hear it anywhere in the rink."

"Well they succeeded!" I called to him as he went the short distance to where a red telephone was affixed to the wall, along with a message board.

"Ice rink -- John speaking," he said, then there was a pause. "Oh yeah Max, she's still here." On hearing Maximus' name, I began to maneuver my way off the benches and in the sheriff's direction. "Guess you heard who it was," he said as I hurriedly approached him, my cheeks beginning to flush as he handed the receiver to me.

"Thanks John. Hello?" The Alaskan started to move, I suppose to give me some privacy, but I shook my head, letting him know it was all right.

"Tina?"

"Yes Max...Hi."

"Hello my dear. Is everything all right? John treating you to a nice time?"

"We're having a wonderful time. John's a perfect host," I replied, gazing into Biebe's dancing blue-green eyes...and momentarily I was thrown. Although he and the general shared the same eye color, for some reason those of the man in front of me took on a particular unexplainable beauty. Had I not noticed that the previous night at the Tavern when the two of us had conversed for that short time? And John started to ask me something until Maximus' return interrupted him. I still did not know.... What had he intended to ask me? My thoughts were so concentrated on that question, as well as trying not to appear as though I was analyzing John's eyes, I suddenly realized what Max had just said to me. "I'm sorry Max...what did you just...."

"I'm afraid I can't have dinner with you this evening."

My face fell. Was he tired of me already? "Oh Max...I...I was so looking forward to this evening." At this, I saw John's eyebrows raise in curiosity.

"So was I, and I know what a disappointment this must be, but it's unavoidable. I'm so sorry."

"I am too. I...I didn't do something, did I?" I whispered, tears beginning to show in my voice, despite my attempts to fight them back.

"Oh no, no, you must never think that, Tina. I was so afraid of this. No, you must never believe that you did anything to me. It is something I must do for Peaches and Liz which is related to the Nest, and since I knew it would last extremely late...well, I hoped we could make some other arrangements while it's still early. I was hoping to catch you before you headed back to your suite."

"We could have a late dinner," I suggested, hoping I did not sound as though I was pleading.

"I had considered that too, but I'm uncertain how long this will last, and I didn't want your entire evening to be spent waiting for me and missing out on things. You're only going to be here a short time."

"Yeah," I mumbled, fighting unsuccessfully to keep my lower lip from quivering.

"However...I thought of something else that might please you...if you don't mind."

"What?"

"Is John still there?"

"John?" At this, the Alaskan's head sprung up. "Yes, he's still here."

"Could you put him on the telephone for me, my dear?"

"Sure." I held the receiver towards him. "Max wants to speak to you, John."

"Max wants to.... Okay...." Baffled, John accepted the phone, and stepped a few inches from me. "Yeah Max...what's up?...Uh...yeah, that's what I sort of gathered," he said, looking back towards me again. "Sorry to hear that pal. You're sure it's something that can't.... Oh, okay, okay. So what did you need to...? Uh-huh. Uh-huh...." I watched as John looked at me, his face brightening. "Max...I'd be delighted to take Tina to dinner." It was now my turn to brighten as a smile nearly broke my face. Why had the suggestion suddenly filled me with such ecstasy when less than five minutes before, I had been on the verge of tears? "No, no it's no imposition at all. I'd love to.... Sure Max...here she is.... No problem, Max -- none at all. It's my pleasure!.... Max wants to speak to you again, Tina."

"Hello?"

"I guess you heard John's part of the conversation?"

"Yes I did, and Max...that...that would be fantastic."

"Then you don't mind? I didn't want you to feel as though I was pushing you on...."

"As long as John doesn't mind, I don't either, Max. I think it's a marvelous idea."

I heard him breathe a sigh of relief. "Thank the gods. I knew you would be disappointed enough as it was, so I'm so glad this worked out. But again Tina...I am sorry."

"It's okay, Max. I understand -- I know how it is. But I appreciate you calling and letting me know what was up."

"I would never have left you waiting and wondering, dearest. My parents raised me better than that." I laughed, and heard him chuckle in reply, imagining him wearing that sweet smile of his when he did.

"Your parents have my appreciation. So...do you know when we can get together again?"

"Why don't.... Why don't we -- as I've often heard said -- play it by ear? You can let me know early tomorrow how you're feeling and what you might want to do. Would that be all right?"

"That'll be fine." I was already anxiously anticipating spending the evening with the quiet sheriff.

"All right then. Well, you have a wonderful evening then, Tina. I'm certain you will -- John, as you've mentioned already, is a perfect host. He'll show you a great time."

"I'm sure he will."

"Have a good night then my dear. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Thanks Max. Talk to you later. Bye." Hanging the phone up, I smiled up at Biebe, a rosiness coming to my cheeks. "You know...you don't have to...."

"I don't have to...but I want to," the Alaskan firmly said.

"You're not setting aside anything you had planned to...."

"I didn't...." he began quickly, but then he swallowed and cocked his head, a bashful smile appearing -- the one I recalled seeing now and then in his movie. "I didn't have any plans. I was just gonna head up to my room, do some reading; maybe watch a video." Now he looked at me, his gaze warm, and I felt myself tremble. "I'd...I'd be honored to take you to dinner, as long as it's okay with you."

"It's okay with me," I answered, chuckling lightly and watching John's smile increase.

"Great...Great. All right then...uh...I guess we need to set a time...You're probably tired, or would you rather eat early? It's up to you."

Looking at my watch, I sighed. "I'd love to take a nap, just relax a little before we go out. You're right -- I am a bit tired...Would eight o'clock be okay? Or is that too late?"

"Eight would be fantastic...I...uh...need to get to my room and start getting cleaned up myself." He took a whiff of his jersey, and I watched him wrinkle his nose in mock disgust. "I don't think you'd appreciate me taking you out in this condition." We both laughed.

"So eight o'clock then?"

"Eight o'clock. Just wait at your room -- I'll come get you. Then we can either have cocktails at the Tavern or in the hotel bar. It's a little more intimate than the Tavern of course...."

"I'll see what I feel like I'm in the mood for. So...cocktails at eight then?" John nodded, and for a second, we stood in our spots, seemingly frozen to where we were, uncertain what to say next. I would have said I felt as awkward as a teenager did on her first date, but I could only imagine that feeling. When I was a teenager, there had been no dates -- until years later, with Daniel. "So..." and my voice drifted.

"So," John softly said, taking up my phrase. "I suppose I'll see you at your room at eight then?"

"Sounds good. I'm looking forward to it."

"Me too."

Not sure what I should do or say, I stood tiptoe, and similar to what I had done the previous night when he left Maximus and me alone, I gave John a short, soft kiss on the cheek. His beard tickled my lips as I licked them with my tongue, and I stopped myself from sighing on smelling him. Despite his joking about him perspiring after his workout, there was a nice musky fragrance to him, which on many men would have been repugnant. Instead of being offended by his odor, I was disappointed I had been unable to watch him really build up a sweat. I imagined how his body appeared underneath his clothing, wondering if it was as beautiful as Max's had been. Shaking my head, I realized John was smiling at me.

"You okay, darlin'?"

"Sorry...just zoning out a little. I think I do need a nap," I added, laughing. "So...I'll see you at eight."

"See you at eight."

Nodding, I backed up a little, then realized something. "Oh John, your coat," and I removed the gloves first, returned those to the pockets, then took off the barn jacket. Unintentionally, the faux fur of the hood brushed across my nostrils as I fumbled with the sleeves, and I caught a whiff of a fragrance still caught within. Trying not to be too obvious, I inhaled, nearly sighing in pleasure. I loved perfumes and colognes to begin with, but there was something about men's scents which always excited me. I wondered what this was, this combination of...I detected spearmint, jasmine, and possibly oak and musk. The notes suited John for they were crisp and clean...almost sporty in nature.

"Oh no, that's okay. You'll be cold until you get out of this area."

I shook my head. "I'll be okay, really. It won't take me but a minute to cut across where the pond is, then back towards the main buildings. I doubt I'll get that cold in that short amount of time."

"Right...uh...working scenes with wind chills below zero?"

"Exactly...Could I ask you...."

"Yeah?"

"I just wondered...I thought...Well, I really liked whatever the cologne is on your jacket." He smiled in response. "But I don't recognize it off-hand."

"Nautica Competition."

"Oh...I don't know... I don't think I've ever smelled that one before."

"Well, some of the girls gave it to me on my birthday. They know I only wear a couple of favorites, and they thought they'd get me a new one to try out. It's not bad. I've been wearing it since April." He paused, cocking his head to one side. "You...uh...You like it?"

"Very much."

"Which ones do you like?"

Shrugging, I tried to think of a few men's colognes. Unfortunately, although I liked them, I had little experience in purchasing them. "I *knew* you were going to ask me that," and he chuckled. "Safari for Men is fantastic; Obsession for Men; Fahrenheit. Just off the top of my head."

"Those are good ones though."

"I...I like this too," and I held the hood towards him, then, starting to feel silly, reluctantly handed the jacket to the Alaskan. "Thanks for the use of it, John. I appreciate that."

"No problem at all. Anytime."

Another pause, and yet there was no awkwardness. Finally, nodding my head, I softly said, "Okay...Well, see you at eight then, John. Bye now," and I began to slowly walk away.

"Bye Tina."

*Tina* My name drifted off his lips the way I had heard it in my fantasy -- gently, affectionately...loving. Like the old song, 'Say it loud and there's music playing. Say it soft and it's almost like praying....'

I moved along the short passage, noticing again -- as I had at the Tavern when I left behind John, Bud and Maximus -- that there was not only a bounce in my walk, but my hips swayed just enough. How flirtatious I had become in my old age, I considered, grinning...or since my weight loss, when my confidence increased. And again, as with the previous night, I couldn't help it -- I had to know. This time I stopped and purposefully turned back to face the rink, curious to see if I was still being watched. Yes, John had remained where I had left him, and he was watching intently, a warm expression on his features. When I waved at him, he waved back, and then I hurried up the concrete stairs that would take me to the tunnel and back outside.

A few years ago there was a Clint Eastwood movie called 'In the Line of Fire'. Eastwood was an aging Secret Service agent on the trail of an assassin attempting to murder the President. But that was not what clicked in my mind. I remembered Eastwood sitting -- I believe -- on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, watching as fellow agent Renee Russo walked away. The Eastwood character is enamoured of her, and he mumbles to himself something to the effect of, `If she looks back and waves, I'll know she's interested.' Russo did and Eastwood was happy. It was the one prominent memory I retained from the entire movie. I would not recall the film moment immediately - that would come later, but when I finally did, well, I would always remember Eastwood's character, and his thoughts as he fell in love with Russo.

At that very moment, I was just hoping to get myself organized so I could be ready for my unforeseen evening out with John Biebe.

I had four hours to get ready, and I still didn't feel as if I had enough time.

The afternoon before, I had mysteriously arrived at the CrowesNest wearing clothes to spend an evening alone, likely dinner at my favorite restaurant. Then I was going to find some nice hotel to hide out for the night while I gathered my thoughts. I needed to get away from home - from the old Victorian house my grandparents had bequeathed me years before. As much as I loved it, I sometimes walked in there and felt as though I'd spend the rest of my life encased in it. Interesting choice of words. Encased - like a tomb, although this was the home of a childhood that was normally quite happy. However, instead of having the three story, nine-room house decorated akin to something out of `Victoria,' the first floor attempted to reflect my tastes on a limited budget. My paternal uncle and brother shared the upper floors, and to be honest, they didn't emulate my style. The house was in constant needs of repairs - I didn't even want to think about what it would cost to do work before winter, although that was seven months away. Especially when one is pretty much doing everything on one's own, as I was.

My family could not understand the melancholy that descended on me upon my return from England. I discussed my three-week vacation with the passion and enthusiasm of a woman who had discovered love for the first time. My beautiful England - it had been everything I dreamt of and more, and I cried nearly all the way back to the States, finally composing myself when I stayed overnight at a Hilton in Orlando, awaiting the final leg home. Funny, but Louisville no longer felt like home to me. I was a good actress. I didn't tear up each time I spoke of my trip. The one time I tried to explain how much I longed to return to Britain, and perhaps next add Wales and the Yorkshire area to my itinerary, I would hear the same refrain, from my uncle - especially from my mother. 'You had a nice trip. You had a nice time. Now I'm sure you won't be planning any more vacations like this one... now, will you? In fact, you've had a lot of vacations here lately: Massachusetts, Denver, the weekend trips up to Cincinnati (and I don't know why you're so secretive about those Tina)....'

I sighed as I wandered away from the sitting room, through the magnificent bedroom of my dreams, then headed into the massive bathroom. I didn't have time for retrospection at the moment. What the hell had started me thinking along those lines anyway? Oh yes, me driving up and down the recognizable highways of my hometown, driving for what felt like hours, unsure where I was going, but thinking, okay, in a couple of hours I'll call Vincenzo's and make reservations for a late supper. Then I'll check out that new Hilton Garden Inn they just finished out in the County. There aren't any conventions in town right now.... That never happened, for I ended up at the Nest instead. As much as I loved Vincenzo's and the Hilton, spending more time here.... Well, did I have to finish the thought?

Not enough time. Four hours and I still felt pressed. Okay - okay, I needed to relax. It was just a casual dinner date, similar to what I'd had the previous evening, only then it was with Bud, then John and Maximus. Now it was only John and I, but still, nothing to worry about. I sighed for the umpteenth time. Dinner date? We weren't really going on a date; we were simply going to have dinner together because Max couldn't make it.

/Geez Tina Renee, give yourself a freaking break, will ya? // I chided myself as I stood in the middle of the bathroom floor, clearing my thoughts of extraneous matters. I needed to organize myself.

The first thing I did was run warm water into the enormous Jacuzzi tub, tossing in a couple of capfuls of herbal bath crystals I had found on the marble dressing table. The crystals consisted of crushed rose petals, lavender, and the essences of other herbs that would relax as well as stimulate the spirit. Placing the ivory bath pillow behind my head, I managed to relax and before I knew it, nearly thirty tranquil minutes had passed. This was how a mini-vacation should be...where my mind drifted long enough that my body followed. After lavishing all over in the body lotion that would accompany the fragrance I would later wear, then wrapping myself in a fluffy white robe, I set the alarm clock. With a deep sigh, I collapsed on top of my four-poster, thankful for another chance to rest.

I was back up at six-fifteen, about an hour later, feeling calmer than I did on arriving at my suite. Now it was as if I had all the time in the world, and I took a moment to find a compact disc on the rack, finally deciding on the Metropolitan Opera's 'The Compact Ring,' featuring selections from Wagner's 'Ring Cycle'. Humming along to the voices of Hildegard Behrens, James Morris and Siegfried Jerusalem, occasionally managing a word of German here and there, I did a basic manicure and pedicure, using a pale rose tint which was a favorite of mine. I only needed a cursory touch-up of my hair, since my usual beautician had done the rest; cosmetics were carefully applied to give a subtle appearance; `Dune' perfume and talcum powder came last.

When the doorbell rang promptly at eight, I had been dressed ten minutes, determined to be ready should my date arrive slightly early.

/Date - this is * not* a date. John's not a date// I kept repeating as I went to the door. /We're just having a nice evening together. This isn't a date// Taking a final glimpse in a wall mirror, I cleared my throat, shut my eyes, mumbled a quick prayer of /Lord give me strength// then asked, "Who is it?"

"It's John, Tina."

Opening the door, I smiled on seeing him standing there in a pair of neat black jeans - which definitely flattered him, a black turtleneck sweater, and a predominantly red flannel shirt. It was like one of his outfits from `Mystery, Alaska' and I stopped before sighing deeply on thinking how handsome he looked. I had never thought flannel attractive until I saw Russell Crowe wearing it, and while Biebe was not Crowe, he definitely exuded the same sex appeal.

"Hi," I said. "Right on time."

"Hi," he answered, and I noticed him giving me a polite look over while not being too obvious. "Yeah, I always try to be prompt, darlin', especially when I'm having dinner with a lovely lady. You... You look fantastic."

I tried not to blush. "Thanks. It's the...uh...same outfit I had on last night," I admitted, glancing down at the sleeveless black sheath dress I wore. "I'm afraid I didn't bring anything else dressy with me. Didn't figure I'd be away from home more than a night."

John gave a thoughtful smile. "It doesn't matter. I don't think anyone will notice, and if they do...if they do they'll only think you look as nice tonight as you did yesterday."

"Thanks." Why did he always seem to know the right thing to say to make me feel better?

"Oh, before I forget, this is for you."

I had wondered why he was hiding one hand behind his back, and now I found out. John suddenly revealed a single white rose enclosed in white tissue paper, along with a fluffy, golden brown teddy bear wearing a cute woolen sweater. The bear had an adorable little face and the sweetest blue eyes; combined with the rose, I was floored. I couldn't help it when I said, "Oh John...thank you."

"It's nothing. Just a little something I thought you might like."

I carefully held both the rose and the bear, uncertain which I loved the most. "This is more than just a little something. The bear's adorable - who told you I love teddy bears?"

"Well, I ran into Michelle when I was in the gift shop looking around, and she told me that during one of your IM conversations, you mentioned that you collected bears."

"From everywhere I go," I softly replied, running a finger over the words 'CrowesNest' embroidered onto the front of the bear's sweater. "He's adorable...So...did Michelle tell you about this too?"

I held the rose forward, but John shook his head, confused. "The rose?" I nodded. "Is...there something I should...."

Realizing he didn't understand, I explained, "Oh, I thought maybe Michelle.... I'm sorry, John, my mistake."

"What's wrong?"

"It's just that...the rose...white roses...those are my favorites. Not many people know that.... Actually...I don't think anyone knows, so I doubt I mentioned it to Michelle." Looking into John's eyes, I saw he appeared as perplexed as I was. "I'm sorry. I'm making this too much of a mystery. I love white roses -- always have."

"Well...I saw red and white, and pink too I think, and...I just thought the white one was the prettiest. I don't know," he added thoughtfully, "it seemed to suit you somehow. Guess I was right."

"I guess you were. Oh I'm sorry, John...Please come in. Let me put this in water before we leave." Rushing back into the suite, I found an unused silver bud vase on a sterling tray, deciding that would be perfect to show off the simplicity of the flower. "I'll be right back," I called, hurrying into my bedroom as John replied, "Take your time."

The vase was filled with water, and I carefully placed it on a nightstand beside my bed, allowing my fingers to caress the petals a final time. It was only a coincidence him choosing that particular color to present me; I could not read anything more into it for the thought alone touched me. I now suddenly realized that all this time, I had been carrying the bear up in my arms, nearly cradling it like a newborn baby. Laughing to myself, and again smiling at the black nose, the blue eyes, and the semblance of a smile, I carefully placed it near the pillows at the headboard.

"That should do it," I told the Alaskan as I returned to the sitting room. He was sitting on the ivory upholstered sofa, a throw pillow in his hands, but when I walked in he immediately stood, tossing the pillow aside. I had only added two last things to my wardrobe: a matching purse and a lacy black shawl in case I got cold from the air conditioning. The latter I was easing about my shoulders when John -- seeing I was having problems -- suddenly said, "Here Tina...let me." He came behind me, and with a few adjustments, straightened the shawl so that it hung as it should. I stood perfectly still, wondering if I was even breathing, as I felt his large fingers brush the bare flesh of my arms as he went about the duty with the greatest diligence. His touch, as it had been in the ice rink, was warm, tender, and I shut my eyes, feeling as if I would melt into those strong arms of his. Neither of us spoke and when he finally said, "There -- does that look all right?" I was nearly startled.

Looking at my reflection, I nodded. "It looks fine, thank you." For a second I caught a glimpse of John -- still behind me -- and realized there was a glow in his eyes. I continued to act normally, pushing a long spiral away from my cheek, straightening my wire-framed glasses, before I turned to him again. "Okay...I'm ready."

My hands wrapped about the opposite arms as I clutched the shawl around me, we went into the hallway, pausing only long enough for me to lock my door. "So," I began, wanting to get some information, but starting some small talk as well, "do you want to go to the Tavern or have cocktails in the restaurant downstairs?"

"It's up to you. Which do you feel like?"

"How was the Tavern tonight?"

"Full; noisy. Not as bad as last night, but it depends on what type of mood you're in."

Nodding I replied, "I...I think the restaurant would be just fine then. I enjoyed myself last night; had a great time as a matter of fact -- Sid aside," and John laughed. "But I think...if you don't mind...."

"I don't mind at all." He suddenly gave me a deep dramatic bow, like a character in an Errol Flynn movie. All that was missing was the cape. "I am at your disposal, Mademoiselle."

"Merci Monsieur," I joked, dipping a slight curtsy. We were at the second floor landing now, and I stopped, uncertain why until I realized exactly where I was. This was where John had stood the night before when he had departed my suite after.... After I had made that crucial decision. I had mouthed 'Good night John' but he stopped as though the words had touched his soul, those shoulders indicating how dejected he'd felt. Then he disappeared down those stairs.... It was different tonight though.

"Tina?" I realized the sheriff was speaking, and I looked up at him, thankful that the 2-1/2 inches on my black heels gave me a bit more height.

"I'm sorry...What did you say?"

"You okay? You sort of drifted there on me."

"Sorry, did I? Sorry," I repeated, feeling somewhat embarrassed. Why was being with John suddenly doing these things to me?

"So...having cocktails in the restaurant...."

"Will be fine, John, just fine. Besides..." and as he offered his arm, I slipped my right one into it, feeling quite comfortable, "last night I was sort of in a party mode. Tonight...I'm feeling more on a quiet level. I want to have dinner with you and not get interrupted every few minutes by all the Boyz."

John grinned. "My thoughts too," and we descended the staircase, chatting as we went.

On to Part 7

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