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Section 7

Posted on Friday, 11 June 2004

December 19th. Friday.

I don't remember leaving Maggie's apartment. I don't remember driving home. I don't remember anything that happened after Tessa gave Maggie the message. I simply went numb, completely numb from head to toe. She had a date? With her ex-boyfriend? The next week? I couldn't comprehend it.

Since I didn't remember what happened, I could only hope that I made some kind of graceful exit. The last thing I needed was to ruin what had been a perfect night by making a scene, not that finding out Maggie had a date with someone else didn't ruin it already. I just didn't want to make it worse.

Regan, thankfully, didn't press for information when I got home, even though she was waiting for me. For once she showed tact.

It was very late that next morning when I finally dragged myself out of bed. Regan had made herself scarce, and fielded calls from Max and Stephanie, telling them that I was asleep and would call when I got up. Only Keller had the audacity to bother me.

But once Regan went out for a walk, I was left to my own devices. Brooding about Maggie and Jimmy was so very easy and so very depressing. And so very useless.

Breakfast was a beer. Not very healthy, I know, but it was noon anyway. Regan had been gone for two hours; I vaguely wondered if she was all right. When I realized that she had taken my car, I rationed that she had gone shopping and would be gone for a few more hours.

I started screening my phone calls. There were three messages from Maggie, asking me to call her as soon as possible. She left her home, work, and cell phone numbers, as well as her two email addresses. I didn't call or email, since at the moment I wasn't interested in speaking to her. Max, however, was a different matter.

"Okay, so what happened?"

"Hello, Max."

"Come on. The Gypsy Broad said you came in late last night. Must've been one helluva date."

"It was."

"And yet you don't sound happy."

"No, really?"

"Oh, now I know something's wrong. You're never sarcastic."

"Never is a long time."

"Okay, spill it. What happened?"

"Before or after I left the apartment?" There was a pause on the other end.

"How long were you there?" I rubbed my temples and tried to think. It hurt.

"About ten minutes."

Another, longer pause.

"Okay, since I sincerely doubt that any hanky-panky went on, what happened at the apartment?"

"We went in, Dylan was still awake. Maggie and I said goodnight, woke the babysitter up, the babysitter said that Jimmy Walker called and needed to reschedule his date with Maggie."

I heard paper crumple and land outside of the wastepaper basket, then a dog whine and Max fighting with Sandy over it.

"Stupid mutt," he muttered, back on the phone. "I say fire the babysitter. She's a real tool, telling her- what would Maggie be? Employer? Client? Anyway, she shouldn't have told Maggie that her ex had called while you were there. Totally tacky. What happened then?"

"I don't remember."

"Well, did Maggie say anything?"

"I don't remember."

"Come on! You have to remember something!"

"Well, I don't, and I don't really want to think about it right now. I happen to enjoy being miserable, thank you."

"Oh, bull ----." There was a familiar rumble in the background, audible even over the phone line. "Look. Maggie's dropping Dylan off for the afternoon. I'm going to send her over so you two can talk."

"No, don't-"

It was too late. He had hung up the phone and I was left with half a beer. I knew Max; he would tell Maggie, and sure enough she would come. The one time I didn't want to see her...

I had about ten minutes to make myself presentable. Jeans and a turtleneck were the first things I grabbed, along with a pair of thick wool socks, and I managed to take the quickest shower on my personal record. The beer? Chased by half a bagel. Keller got the other half.

The Chief announced Maggie's arrival while I was still roughly towel-drying my hair. A haircut was definitely in order. I pulled the door open as Maggie pushed, resulting in Maggie faltering. I caught her before she fell.

"Why won't you return my calls?" she asked, once safely back on her feet.

"I didn't want to talk to you." Might as well be honest.

"It's not a date, if that's what you're thinking," she said, pushing past me into the house. "We're just going to dinner."

"Isn't that what we did? Last night?"

"Yes, but last night was a date, and it was wonderful."

"It was. Up until I found out you were going out with Jimmy next week."

Maggie delayed answering and poured herself a cup of coffee, adding cream and a little sugar. It was very nice that she felt so at home there, and that registered somewhere at the back of my mind, but at the moment it annoyed me. How did I not know there was coffee?

"Remind me to keep some Hershey's syrup here. It's not a date," she insisted. "We're- we're meeting to discuss Dylan. Now that he's back, Jimmy wants joint custody."

"No!" No, no, no. Jimmy could not have any sort of custody whatsoever. Me, I should have full custody. With Maggie.

"What do you know about raising a child?"

I felt a chill rush through me. I had only imagined her before. Now I was hearing her voice. It was like she was there, standing over my shoulder, jeering in her cold, almost nasal voice. Emily.

"You're telling me!" Maggie said. I did my best to exorcise the vision of Emily.

"Real bright, ain't she?" the Ghost of Emily Past sneered.

"So what are you planning on doing?" I asked, still trying to rid myself of Emily's presence. "I'd like to know."

"As soon as I figure it out, I'll tell you. I'm meeting Mr. Bradley on Monday for some professional advice."

Maggie continued to talk, but I didn't hear her. My mind was occupied with the ghost of my late wife, who was now circling my current girlfriend with a demonic glint in her dead eyes.

"She's not as pretty as me," she sniffed. "Wide hips. Huge thighs. Split ends. Eyes are too far apart. Teeth are a little yellow. Talks too much. And she has a kid! A slut with a kid. An ugly slut with a kid. Picked a real winner, didn't you?"

I shivered. The ghost looked at me, grinning madly, her blonde hair mussed and hospital gown rumpled. She was barefoot.

"I wonder what would happen," she said, turning to stand in front of Maggie. She touched her face with one transparent finger. Maggie shuddered.

"Is it cold in here?" she asked, pulling her sweater closer.

"A little," I answered. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For what? God, a real prize."

"For being petty and immature about this Jimmy thing." I added mentally, to Emily, "Get lost, wench."

"Ooh, finally sticking up for yourself. Who's Jimmy? The brat's father? Gee, now you have HIM to worry about too. And don't think you'll be rid of me that easily, darling husband. I hope she's worth it."

And as suddenly as she appeared, Emily, or her ghost, rather, disappeared. She simply vanished with a devilish smirk.

"No, don't worry about it," Maggie said. My arms went around her easily, a comforting reality compared to what had just happened.

"Are you on a lunch break, or do you have the day off?" I asked, hoping it was the latter.

"Just lunch," she sighed.

"Have you eaten? I haven't, really. Just half a bagel."

"And a beer." Maggie had seen the empty bottle on the sink. I was busted. "At least you can. And don't try passing it off as Regan's."

"If you've got time, I'll make something," I said, choosing to ignore her somewhat. "I need to go to the market, but I think I have eggs at least."

"And beer. Would that be an Irish omelette?"

"If it's Irish beer, which is what I have. If it's German beer, it's a German omelette. But you need sausage for a German omelette, and I don't think I have any. I might have some chicken."

"What would that be?"

"I have no idea." She laughed again and broke away. I groaned at this sudden loss of contact, which only brought a fresh wave of giggles from her.

Marry me, I thought, unwilling to let the simple phrase past my teeth. There are so many practical reasons, and just as many impractical ones. I never know when you'll be back, and I don't like that. Please, marry me and say you'll stay.

Maggie rifled through the contents of my refrigerator, pulling out a container of chicken, some broccoli, and a carton of eggs. She pulled a bowl from a cupboard; only I don't remember ever telling her where they were. It was a small thing that reinforced the fact that she belonged here.

"You really don't have anything," she grinned. "If you heat these up, I'll mix the eggs."

"I was under the impression you don't cook often," I replied, teasing.

"I don't. I'm not much of a cook, anyway. Alyson makes everything from scratch. I practically own stock in Bisquick and Ragu. Which is why I'm beating the eggs and you're doing the cooking."

That took me by surprise, and I laughed. Maggie looked at me.

"You never laugh. I can probably count on one hand the times I've heard you laugh."

"I haven't had much to laugh about until recently. I promise, you'll hear it more often now."

"Good. I like your laugh."

"That deserves a kiss, I think."

"I like your thinking." She smiled and kissed my cheek. "I also like your cooking. And I'm hungry. Are you going to make me go back to work hungry?"

Maggie pouted playfully.

"I've got half a mind to keep you here all day," I said with a smug smile, playing along. I gently pulled her back and kissed her.

"Ooh, four more hours and it'll be the weekend," she pleaded. "Four more hours."

"May as well be four days," I countered. "Four weeks, four months, or four years. I don't think I can wait four hours."

Her hand found mine, and she smiled. I lifted it to my lips and laid a simple kiss on it, much like what happened at the Renaissance Festival. Maggie blushed.

"One of these days I'll hold you to that," she said.

"If I were a less patient man I would suggest now, but you are determined to go back to work and I'm very patient. Therefore, I'll wait."

"Good. But I'm not patient," Maggie wheedled, "I'm hungry. And I have to be back to work in half an hour now. Omelette? Please?"

"I should teach you to cook," I said, reluctantly stepping away to heat up omelette ingredients.

"I can cook. So long as it comes out of a box."

"Sure, just like I can dance, so long as it's to a slow song. I'll teach you to cook. At your apartment."

"But- My kitchen's so small." A pause, then a grin. "You're a cad."

"I just thought we could kill two birds with one stone and have a dancing lesson at the same time."

"You're still a cad for saying it."

"Perhaps, but this cad's making your lunch, so be nice to him."

Maggie watched for a moment, then changed the subject.

"Okay, I have a question, and I need your input. I've been asked three times all ready: Are you my boyfriend?"

A shiver went up my spine.

"You have no idea how good that sounds to me."

"I thought you'd say that. It sounds good to me, too. And if you think about it, it's not too early to say that. It's kinda like we've been going out for a while. I mean, our first date could officially be considered September 17th, when I treated you to dinner and you got Dylan to eat veggies."

"You remember the date?" Wow. I didn't want to ask if she remembered the time, too.

"Yeah. Look, up till then it was damn near impossible to get him to eat anything green. Any improvement on that is worth remembering. Were we that much of a problem for our mothers?"

"I was. My mum had to use the same trick on me."

"I should have known. You're stealing my son from me, you know."

I smiled, but she didn't see. I was busy cooking lunch.

"It's not my fault. I didn't ask to be followed around by a young boy."

"But you've got Tommy and Lisa following you."

"That's different. They're practically relatives."

"So what's Dylan?"

Oh, damn. May as well be honest.

"Dylan ... is the son I'd like to have."

"Really?" she asked, the flirtation gone from her voice. Instead, she was contemplative.

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"No, not at all. It just takes a little getting used to. Most men aren't interested in a woman with a kid."

"I'm not like most men."

"I've noticed. Most men don't make their girlfriends lunch."

"It's almost ready," I said, grinning. "Got a plate?"

Maggie made fast work of the omelette. I didn't think anyone could eat anything so quickly, but I swear it was gone within seconds. It was amusing.

"Ooh, I gotta run! I'll be back around five and we can figure something out for dinner." She kissed me, adding, "Thank you for lunch! Oh, and you are invited to the office Christmas party Monday night. It's not mandatory but I've been told that you are strongly advised to come. I think Alicia and Jen will come find you if you don't. Bye!"

Another all too short kiss and she was gone out the door at a sprint, hopping over a rather confused Keller.

A few seconds later she was back for a longer, more satisfying kiss, one that I was very unwilling to end.

"You are an absolutely wonderful man, do you know that?" Maggie whispered. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome," I answered. "Now, you'd best be getting to work. I'll see you at five."

"Brian-" she started, but shook her head and changed her mind. "I'm taking the dog."

"But- He's my dog!"

"You got him because Dylan and I wanted a dog and couldn't get one. You can admit it."

"I was seriously thinking about getting a dog. But you were the impetus."

"See, that didn't hurt, did it?" she grinned, picking up the dog in question and tucking him under one arm. "I'm taking Keller with me to work. We'll be back later."

"Who am I going to talk to?" I was milking it, making the most of her continued presence.

"Well, Regan should be back soon, and after all, she came here to see you."

"No, she came to pass judgment on my choice of girlfriend." Maggie chuckled. "And you passed, with flying colours."

"I'm glad for that. But I really have to get going. Keller's coming with me. If you need to talk to someone, call us at the office."

I pulled her back for one last kiss and she was gone. With my dog.

"Aww, how sweet." Emily's voice was sharp and cynical, sounding like it came from just over my shoulder. I turned; there was nothing there. The disembodied voice continued. "You make me sick, Brian. You know she's only interested in getting a father for her brat, don't you? But a fat loser like yourself wouldn't necessarily see something so obvious."

This was too much. First visions, then the ghost herself, and now I was hearing voices. Her voice. The woman who had made my life hell was haunting me from beyond the grave. I needed help and called the most logical person I knew.

"Dr. Stephanie Parker," she said, quite distracted.

"Steph, I have a problem."

"You have lots of problems, Brian. Which one concerns you now?"

"I'm seeing the ghost of my dead wife and she's talking to me."

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

"Come again?"

"Since last night I have been periodically seeing the ghost of Emily and she has been talking to me."

"Are you serious?"

"Would I joke about something like this?"

"No, you wouldn't." She sighed, which I correctly interpreted as a sign that she was thinking. "You remember Vera Stevens?"

"Yes. Your partner."

"I'll give her your name, but you have to call her for the appointment."

"Why can't I talk to you?"

"For two main reasons. One: I'm too close to the situation, being your friend, and I won't be able to be completely objective. Two: I'm not taking any more clients."

"But you know all the particulars of this. You knew her."

"Yes, but I can't. Would you take Maggie on as an advisee?"

"No. But that's different-"

"No, it's not. Not really. Vera's good at what she does and I trust her explicitly. I will apprise her of the situation, but you need to talk this through from the beginning."

"But that's ten years ago now!"

"And you remember it clear as day, I know you do. It's indelibly scarred your mind. Vera will help."

"I'd still feel better if I were seeing you."

"And as I've said, that's not possible. Does Maggie know?"

"That I'm going into therapy? No."

"Brian, you know what I meant."

"No, she does not know about Emily. Or these hallucinations."

"She doesn't have a clue? Brian! You are asking for trouble."

"Stephanie, I can't deal with this myself yet. I can't ask her to deal with it too."

"She needs to know. This is something you shouldn't keep from her. I know it's soon in your relationship yet, but this is important."

"I know. I'll tell her soon. But not now."

"Fine. I won't say anything to her, and I'll make sure Max doesn't. But make it soon, okay? Wait too long and it'll blow up in your face."

I promised her once again, with every intention of keeping it, that I would tell Maggie about Emily. The conversation ended with an offer to have dinner at their house, Regan included.

The appointment was made with Vera Stevens for the Monday after Christmas; my fate was sealed, as far as therapy and counselling was concerned.

December 20th. Saturday.

Friday night we had all decided to go out for drinks on Saturday; Max had a hankering for karaoke and for once Regan agreed with him. Then Maggie and Stephanie liked the idea, and finally I gave in. I like karaoke, but it was a little last minute and I was concerned about finding a sitter for Dylan. Maggie's sister Sarah was called, and she was perfectly willing to take him for the night.

"Have you ever heard Brian sing?" Stephanie asked Maggie.

We were all in my truck, Maggie sitting in front with me; Regan, Max, and Stephanie were crammed in the back seat. Regan and Max were predictable poking and flicking each other in a remarkably immature show of... Affection? Dislike? I couldn't tell any more.

"Don't make me turn around," I growled, looking in the rear view mirror. They sulked.

"Uh, no, not really. I heard him at the Madrigal Dinner, though, and he sang a little on our date."

"Oh, then you haven't really heard him!" Stephanie cried.

"Ooh, yeah! Get a few pints in him and he'll sing the birds from the trees, I'm telling you!" Regan chimed in. I felt my face go warm. Maggie grinned.

"Well then, I'm glad we're doing this tonight," she said.

"Come on! It's not like you'd never hear me sing in real life. And I don't need to be drunk to sing well."

"No, alcohol doesn't affect your singing ability; you're Irish, and all Irish can sing. It's a fact. Alcohol just makes the occasions when you do more frequent."

"How often do you go karaoke-ing?" Maggie asked.

"Not often enough," Stephanie answered. "We try for once a month, but the last time was August. I think it had something to do with the third wheel getting interested in a pretty brunette."

"Careful, or the third wheel will turn the car around," I said.

"Hey, you're not a third wheel anymore, sweetie," Maggie said. "Regan's a fifth wheel."

"I volunteered to stay home with Dylan," Regan said with a shrug. "But you insisted."

"You only volunteered after I said Sarah was watching him," Maggie countered.

"But I still volunteered. And anyway, I like hearing my beastly big brother sing."

Thankfully, we arrived at the bar soon after. I took drink orders and waited at the bar while the rest found a table and began picking songs. It wasn't crowded, which was surprising, since this is a college town with two universities. But it was near Christmas, and most of the students who would normally be out had gone home. I still recognised a handful of the Saturday Night Karaoke group from the Smith Union campus; most of them were in the theatre program. The English department usually had its bar night on Thursdays, and the art students drifted between Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights.

"Ooh, thank you," Maggie said, accepting the strawberry daiquiri she had ordered.

"That is such a frou-frou drink," Max said.

"Thank you, Mr. Shirley Temple," she returned, rolling his eyes and devouring the strawberry garnish with satisfaction.

"It's a Virgin Mary, for your information, wench."

"There is so much wrong with that!"

"I'm the designated driver," Max said, moping.

"You'll live," I said, sitting next to Maggie with my beer. I'm not much for cocktails. "Think of it as payback. And don't call my girlfriend a wench."

"I never thought you'd be a vindictive jerk," he huffed, affecting an offended tone.

"It's not vindictiveness, it's karma. I've carted you and Stephanie around from bar to bar for years and now it's your turn."

"So you two are going to get ----faced and let Steph and me pour you out at your respective houses? Or just Brian's?"

"I'm not going to get drunk," Maggie said. "I'm not. This is not something I do often. In fact, I don't think I've gotten even slightly buzzed in the past three years. And if you'll notice, I ordered a daiquiri, which is made with rum. If I wanted to get drunk, which I don't, I would have ordered a margarita or Tequila Sunrise. Tequila does crazy things to me. I've gotten into a lot of trouble with the help of Jose Cuervo, and that's not something I want to do again."

"Brian, tell your girlfriend to stop talking and pick a song. Or I'm going to order a Freddy Fudpucker and shove it down her throat."

"What's a Freddy Fudpucker?" Maggie asked.

"I don't remember. Tequila and something." She slapped his arm. Regan was ready to jump in, and Stephanie was fed up.

"Max, I'm pregnant. Please note that I have a Diet Coke. If you want a drink, have one. I'll drive."

"Oh. Yeah, right. Barkeep? One Jagerbomb, please! And a shot of Absolut. It's not too late to redeem this drink."

"Oh, God. I'm married to a college student," she moaned, hiding her face. "He's not really my husband," she said to the people at the other tables. "He's just a friend. And the father of my children. Disregard the wedding ring, it's fake."

Tessa, Drew, and Christopher Caesar were laughing like hyenas. The DJ called Drew up to the stage for "It's Not Unusual." He's got a voice and a presence that will guarantee stardom. He and Caesar are performers, and Tessa is a techie/writer/director. They have talent coming out of their ears.

The DJ's assistant came by the table and collected our song slips. It was a little while before our names were called, and I watched Maggie order a refill on her daiquiri and then go for a G&T.

We couldn't get Stephanie to sing anything, but Max had fun with "Old Time Rock and Roll," and Regan belted out "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun." It was my turn, but the song the DJ announced was not the one I had chosen.

"Next up is Brian Campbell, singing Right Said Fred's 'I'm Too Sexy.'"

The students from Smith Union nearly exploded with laughter. There were a few cackles from a person at my table with the initials RC. I glared at my little sister, who beamed back.

"Wait, wait, no. That's not the song I put down. I had, uh, 'Time in a Bottle'."

"That's not what I have here, sir. It's all cued up and ready to go. I can set up something else, but it'll take some time."

"Come on, Brian. Sing the song. It'll be over before you know it," Maggie wheedled. She played with my hair and pouted.

"Fine." I downed the dregs of my third beer and approached the stage. Maggie was right, it was over before I knew it. Thank God it's a short song.

Then it was Maggie's turn, and I paid close attention to her. She's got a wonderful singing voice, very soulful and sultry and sexy. She sang a song by Alanis Morissette, "Head Over Feet." It was the chorus that struck me as significant.

"You've already won me over in spite of me
And don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet
Don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are
I couldn't help it
It's all your fault."

Maggie plopped down in her chair, flushed with success.

"You two really should sing a duet," Stephanie said, smiling. "It'd be great to hear you two singing together. I'm sure you'll blend wonderfully well."

"Nah, Maggie's too drunk to sing another song. That's her second Sunrise." Max grinned, taking a long pull from his drink.

"I'm not drunk," Maggie asserted. "I'm tipsy. There is a difference."

"I think we'd best be going," I said, nodding to Stephanie. She agreed.

The bill was paid and as the two most sober people of the party, Stephanie and I escorted Max, Regan, and Maggie out to my truck. Once we were all inside, me with my arms wrapped safely around my lovely and slightly drunk girlfriend, Stephanie took off for home.

"You know, my sister Sarah is obsessed with Jane Austen. She says that Brian and me and Jimmy the Bastard are just like Colonel Brandon, Marianne, and Willoughby from Sense and Sensibility."

"Well, your sister's crazy," Max muttered.

"So are you. Yeah, well, anyway. She's also comparing the characters in Pride and Prejudice to plants."

"What?"

"Did I stutter? She's comparing them to plants. Like, Jane is an alyssum because it's a cute little flower. And Mrs. Bennet is a sensitive plant because if a sensitive plant is touched, it collapses in on itself. And Mr. Collins is a petunia, because it's a nasty, sticky little flower totally dependant on an old lady for it's existence. And Wickham's a mint because it looks nice but you can't get rid of it. He's insidious like that."

"Is that a word?" Regan asked.

"Is Sensibility a word?" I countered.

"Stop making fun of me!" Maggie sulked. "But Sarah and I came to a decision. We decided that Brian's a mint, too. He looks good, he smells good, and he's terribly useful, but I can't get rid of him! I tried a few times, but he kept coming back, and now I don't want to get rid of him. I've embraced the mint."

"Have I just been called an herb?"

"I think so," Stephanie said. I could tell she was trying not to laugh.

"Peppermint or spearmint?" I asked.

"Chocolate mint. Chocolate cures many ills."

December 22nd. Monday.

Maggie left Dylan in the capable hands of Regan the night of her office's Christmas party. We both questioned the intelligence of that idea, but it was too late to find a babysitter. Besides, Dylan was a remarkably mature child and everything would balance out.

Both Maggie's and my cell phones were on in case of emergency.

I'm not sure what effect Maggie had planned for our arrival, but there was a bit of a sensation when we stepped inside. Almost immediately we were surrounded by at least half a dozen women, ranging in age from 20 to 65, and a few men who were generally younger and while not flaming queens were definitely following an alternative lifestyle.

I tried to remember the names thrown at me: Gabby, Alicia, Jen, Kiamn, Natalie, Rita, Sadie, Sean, Cole, Mark. There were dozens more, I'm sure, but they didn't stick. And these were just her co-workers, other secretarial and office staff. The lawyers and other higher-ups were dispersed throughout the room.

My attention was required to field questions.

"How long have you been together?" from Sean.

"Technically, about a week."

"How did you meet?" from Sadie.

"I swept her off her feet outside the Performing Arts Centre at Smith Union University."

"Where did you find that adorable dog?" from Gabby.

"I adopted him from Amy Marlowe, at Marlowe Kennels. He had been abandoned."

"Are you really such a soccer fanatic?" from Kiamn.

"Yes."

"Do you have a brother?"

"Yes, but he lives in Ireland with his wife and three children. I'm sure he'll be flattered to know you're interested, though, Cole."

I was beginning to believe what Maggie had written back in October. Why I was noticing all these people interested in me, flirting outrageously, when I was not interested in them and fantastically happy with Maggie was beyond me. It was still gratifying, however.

With Maggie by my side I was invincible. Nothing could get under my skin, even a few of the more prying questions. But when Maggie was pulled away, the majority of the throng followed her and the rest dispersed. I was left more or less alone, and felt a very cold glare coming from the direction of the refreshment table.

I glanced around and found the source; one very disgruntled Jimmy Walker. Still feeling the effects of Maggie-induced supremacy, I nonchalantly approached the punchbowl and my rival.

"Campbell," Jimmy Walker sniffed, still scowling while I poured glasses of punch for myself and Maggie.

"Mr. Walker."

"I see you're here with Maggie."

"Yes."

"Enjoy it while it lasts, Campbell. She'll be bored with you by the end of the month."

"Somehow I doubt it."

"Look, I know Maggie. She's just messing around with you to make me jealous. Once she's done, she'll come back to me. I've got a prior claim."

I looked at him, wondering what he must be thinking. Then I realised it: he was threatened by me. Young, handsome, rich Jimmy Walker was threatened by middle-aged, decidedly not wealthy me.

"To begin with, I doubt Maggie operates on a prior-claim system. Whatever reason she is with me suffices, and I know for a fact that she is not interested in pursuing or resuming a relationship with you."

"Just watch," he sneered, drawing my attention to where Maggie was approaching. "Maggie is mine."

"Don't make a scene, boys," Maggie said. "Excuse me, Jimmy, but I'm taking Brian to meet Dan. See you later."

She slipped her arm through mine and led me away. I could not have been more relieved, although I could still feel Jimmy's glare, but I wouldn't let it ruin my evening. Instead I focused on the people I was now meeting. Daniel Bradley and his wife Marsha; Steven Marker (apparently no relation to Bob the Cinema Manager) and his significant other, Tonya. Both men were excellent lawyers, by reputation.

Dan was an older man, older still than myself, a regal man with leonine features and a veritable mane of silvering hair; his wife shared his regal air, but was smaller and had more birdlike qualities. Steve was about Max's age, a clean-cut man who looked like he should be in movies, and Tonya was a glamorous match for him.

"Ah, Dr. Campbell. It is doctor, isn't it?" Dan asked, setting down his drink. I nodded. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Yes," I said, wondering a little at the 'finally.' "Doctor of philosophy, I'm afraid, not medicine."

"No matter, it's still respectable. Most people don't get past a bachelor's degree. But I hear you also coach the children's soccer league. That must be interesting."

"It is. Well, it was. The season's over now. But the children are a handful. I'd never really worked that much with them on that scale before."

"Anne-Marie calls it Bunch-Ball," said Marsha. "Her daughter was on a team this year. They all just follow the ball."

"That is very true," Maggie said. "But they are just kids. They'll learn eventually."

"And some pick it up automatically. Dylan, I hear, is a natural." It was Steve's turn to speak.

"Ah, yes. He has a considerable amount of talent. So long as he's interested in playing he'll find coaches willing to work with him."

"For someone who hasn't worked with children before, you certainly know how fickle they are."

"Brian's great with kids. Our friends Max and Stephanie Parker have three children so far and he watches them regularly. And Dylan adores him."

I would have had a comment for that, but a distinct ring tone was coming from my jacket pocket.

"My younger sister borrowed my cell phone earlier," I said, trying to apologize for the opening bars of Right Said Fred's 'I'm Too Sexy.' "She changed the ringer on me."

"Right," Steve said with a wink.

"I hope this is an emergency," I said. "You haven't burned my house down, have you?"

"Not yet," Regan said. "Mum called. She wants to talk to you ...now."

Section 8

Posted on Thursday, 1 July 2004

December 22nd. Monday.

It was a little odd that my mother would call at 8:30 p.m. Eastern Time, when it was nearly 2 a.m. in Ireland. Mum was usually in bed by 10. I felt a momentary flash of panic and hoped fervently that nothing was wrong. But Regan hadn't sounded alarmed and didn't seem upset. In fact, she sounded more like she was 6 again and trying to get me in trouble.

Maggie and I excused ourselves and went home. I didn't mind. Too many people that I didn't know, and continued black looks from Jimmy Walker.

"Is everything all right?" Maggie asked once we were on our way.

"I think so," I answered. "Regan's being a prat."

"So you don't think your mom called?"

"Oh, I'm sure she did. Regan is simply being a younger sister and trying her best to get me into trouble."

"Aha. So, my guess is that dear old mum doesn't know about me?"

"She does now."

True to my suspicions, Regan had a sly smile, echoed by Dylan's impish grin. Something was up.

"Did you talk with Mrs. Campbell too?" Maggie asked her son while I dialled the phone.

"Yup!"

"I hope you were nice and polite to her."

"Of course I was, Mum."

I looked up as the call went through. He had never called her "mum" before.

"Tell her what we did, kiddo," Regan prodded.

"Auntie Regan and I made a cake for tomorrow night, and we watched Muppet Christmas Carol."

Regan beamed while Maggie looked sharply from her to me. I shrugged. There was nothing I could do about it if I wanted to. Regan had all ready started him saying it, and he would continue to call her "aunt" regardless. The child had an agenda and was following it and I had no objections.

The phone rang on the other end, once, twice. Three times and Mum picked up.

"It's about bloody time, you daft boy!" she said, in manner of greeting.

"Well, I don't know what you're doing up so late, Mum. I was going to call you tomorrow." Regan breezed by, licking frosting off her fingers, and pressed the speakerphone button. Now our mother was talking to all of us.

"Sure now, and you'd have forgotten not five minutes later. I can at least rely on Regan to come through in a pinch."

"Yes, we can rely on Regan for so many things," I said, raising one eyebrow while my sister smirked. "To what do I owe this pleasure, Mum?"

"You haven't talked to me in over two weeks, and when I call to talk to you, Regan tells me you're out with your girlfriend. When were you going to tell me about this new development?"

"That's just what it is, Mum, a new development. I'm still getting used to it myself."

"That's such a lie, Brian!" Regan said with a roll of her eyes. "If I know him at all, he's settled in nicely enough. I mean, it's what he's been wanting for months."

"Why does it always seem that when the women get together, it's always Pick on Brian Time?" I asked, recognising the start of a familiar routine.

"Because you're such an easy target, sweetheart, and react so well." Maggie replied and sat down on the sofa, pulling me down next to her. Such sweet provocation softened the sting to my pride.

"Is that the girlfriend?" my mother asked. "Is that Maggie?"

"Yup. Hello, Mrs. Campbell. I'm glad I'm here to talk to you."

"Oh, a polite one. I like that. And you're Dylan's mum, too. He's a charming boy."

"Much like your own son, Mrs. Campbell. Sometimes I wonder if Dylan gets it from Brian or vice versa."

"I think it's a fair mix of both," my mum said. "And please, call me Mum. 'Mrs. Campbell' makes me feel old."

Dylan emerged from the bathroom, hands damp, with Keller on his heels. He joined Maggie and myself on the sofa, and the dog curled up beside us.

"Ah, Mum, I wish you could see this," Regan said, grinning at us from across the coffee table. "They're all snuggled up together on the couch. A real family portrait waiting to happen."

"Hi Grannam!" Dylan said. Maggie's fingernails dug into my knee. It was another unexpected change, obviously made while we were out, and she wasn't necessarily pleased.

"Hello, Dylan," Mum said, laughing. "It's been a while since we've talked. Has anything happened in the last half hour I need to know about?"

"Nope. Just Mum and Brian getting home, but you knew that."

"Sure now, and I figured it out. Did the cake turn out all right?"

"Yup. But Auntie Regan ate most of the decorations."

"I'm not surprised-"

"Speaking of decorations, Mum," Regan said, "Brian doesn't have a lick of Christmas decorations up. Nothing. You'd think it was just another day here."

"I've been busy!"

"That's true. He's been making up for lost time, he has. I mean, he and Maggie've been panting for each other since October at least, and they only just got together a week ago. Not even that!"

Maggie didn't even try to correct Regan, which lead me to believe my sister was right. The truth of that must've come out on one of their nights out. Maggie just looked down to where my hand covered hers, a small smile curving up the corners of her mouth.

"So I've heard," Mum said, her voice cool. "That's not like you, Brian. But I guess you've just mellowed as you've gotten older. Tell me, Maggie, has he written you one of his famous love letters yet?"

"No, he hasn't," Maggie replied, shifting her gaze up to my face. I shrugged.

"Would you like one?" I asked, doing my best to sound casual. In all actuality, there was one for her in my desk drawer, just waiting for Christmas.

"I've never had one."

"What, never? Not even from that- From your ex boyfriend?" Clearly Regan had filled our mother in on the great and worthy exploits of Jimmy Walker. I was grateful for her tact in holding back her comments, as I'm sure Maggie was.

"No, Mum. Jimmy wasn't much for sentiment." There was a note of disappointment in Maggie's voice which none of us, save perhaps Dylan, missed.

"Well, then, you've just landed yourself a gem, Maggie. My Brian's always been one for romance and sentiment, as you say. If I remember correctly, when he was seven or eight he wrote me a beautiful love letter for my birthday one year. I still have it, actually."

"I remember writing it. I think you were pregnant with Regan, Mum. That was a long time ago."

"Thanks, you big oaf," Regan said, scowling. "Make me feel old, why don't you?"

"Was it mushy?" Dylan asked. Even with his agenda for his mother and me, Dylan was still a seven year old and at that age girls have cooties. Mushiness was not acceptable for a tough kid. I grinned.

"Not as mushy as you'd think," Mum answered. "It was very sweet."

"Okay. That's good."

"Well, now that I've figured out this mystery, I think it's time I head to bed."

"I'll call you tomorrow, Mum," I said.

"Brian, it's already tomorrow here."

"I know. I'll call you later today then. Around seven."

"Like I'll be waiting by the phone for you!" she said. Maggie and Regan laughed. "Moira, Dan, Liam and Rachel are all coming by tomorrow, with the kids. You'll be lucky to catch any of us."

"Around seven, then?" I continued, unfazed.

"That'll be good."

"All right then. We'll talk to you tomorrow then. 'Night, Mum. I love you."

"Love you too, Mum," Regan said.

"And I love you too. Goodnight, Maggie and Dylan. I look forward to speaking with you again."

"Me too. Bye, Mum."

"Bye, Grannam."

"Ah, Dylan. If I had known about you sooner, I would have sent you something for Christmas."

"That's Brian's fault," Regan offered.

"In part," Mum replied. "But you knew about him too, and you didn't say one word."

"I didn't want to get your hopes up, Mum. He hadn't even asked her for a date yet. I wanted to know it was a sure thing before I told you."

"And is it?"

"Do bears poo in the woods?" she said. Mum laughed. Maggie relaxed a bit, leaning against me with a small sigh.

"A sure thing," she murmured.

One more round of goodbyes and Mum hung up the phone. Regan stood and switched off the speakerphone, stretched, and went into the kitchen.

"Anyone for some cake?"

December 24th, Wednesday. 3 p.m. Christmas Eve.

Maggie and Dylan arrived at my house at three in the afternoon armed with a small Christmas tree and boxes of lights, ornaments, candy canes and tinsel. Keller was ecstatic as usual and bounced around like I had fed him five pounds of sugar for breakfast.

"Regan had a point the other day. Why don't you have any decorations up?"

"I was busy. Every spare moment I had was spent with you and Dylan. Decorating took a backseat."

"Can we make cookies?" Dylan asked, taking my hand and pulling me to the kitchen.

"Do I have a choice?"

"Nope. I wanna make sugar cookies and peanut butter cookies. You know, the ones with Hershey Kisses on them."

"All right. We might have to go shopping for some things."

There are some benefits in watching the children of my friends and now my girlfriend. Aside from keeping my own inner child alive, kicking, and about 10 years old, I always had a supply of kid-friendly foodstuffs and baking materials handy.

Unfortunately at the time I was low on just about everything. Dylan and I made up a list of necessary ingredients while Regan and Maggie struggled to fit the tree in the stand.

"Would you like some help?" I asked.

"Stop being gallant," Maggie said. "I can do this myself."

The tree slipped from her hands and landed with a heavy thud on the carpet. Keller ran from the room with his tail between his legs.

"Don't worry, I'll clean it up."

"I trust you," I laughed. "Last chance for help. Dylan and I are running to the store. Anything you need?"

"It's icy out, you might want to drive," Maggie grinned. "No, I think we're fine."

"Vodka! Bring vodka. And orange juice. I'm dying for a Screwdriver."

"I don't think so, Regan. Not with my money."

"You're mean."

I ignored her pout and kissed Maggie while Dylan started pulling on his coat.

"Eew!" he and Regan groaned. I kissed her again, dipping her this time while she wrapped her arms around my neck. The groans just got louder and were accompanied with fake retching.

3:30 p.m.

It was already getting dark out. The potential for a winter storm was high; after all, it was the end of December. The market's parking lot was nearly empty, which didn't surprise me. With any luck we would be in and out within fifteen minutes, and thereby miss the storm.

I'm not a lucky person.

No sooner had I put my truck into park than the few delicate flakes of snow that had been drifting past streetlamps turned into fat, wet wafers. Perfect packing snow.

"Can we make a snowman tomorrow?" Dylan asked, as if reading my thoughts.

"Let's see about getting home first," I answered. "But yeah, I think that could be arranged."

"Cool."

"And that's what you'd call an understatement. Come on."

As predicted, there weren't many people in Food Country. I suspect most were home with their families and friends, enjoying a fine dinner, and not out shopping for flour and sugar and peanut butter. But Maggie was waiting for us, at home. Things could always be worse.

"Welcome to Food Country," the greeter, a grandmotherly figure whose name was apparently Eula, offered. "We'll be closing soon. They're predicting a doozy of a storm, and you'll want to get home."

"Thanks," Dylan said. Eula beamed.

I checked the list as we walked down the produce section.

"What did you get Mum for Christmas?" Dylan asked, setting a gallon of milk into the cart.

"Now that's a secret, isn't it?" I countered. He grinned up at me.

"Didja write her a love letter, like Grannam said?"

"Now, if I told you that, it wouldn't be a secret." That and something else I picked up. "What did you get for her?"

"I asked Santa for something special. But it's a secret too."

We finished shopping and paid for our supplies. Now only to get home and start baking. Home to Maggie.

"It's so nice to see father and son out shopping together," I heard Eula mention to a disinterested clerk. Dylan and I looked at each other and grinned.

5:35 p.m.

The weather was getting worse as time passed, and what was supposed to be a short jaunt to the supermarket turned into a two hour trip. Somewhere in the back of my mind the Gilligan's Island theme was playing. By the time we pulled into the driveway visibility was down to maybe one city block. Dylan carefully picked his way to the front door, stepping in my footsteps through eight inches of heavy snow.

It was all worth it, though. We were shaking the snow off our boots as the door was wrenched open.

"Oh, dear God, I was so worried!" Maggie said, carefully avoiding little piles of snow as she stepped onto the porch. "Ten minutes more and I was going to start calling hospitals."

She was serious, but I couldn't help smiling. Every minute confirmed that this was what I wanted. Someone to come home to, someone who worried about me. A nebulous and primitive idea began to form in my mind.

"You could have at least called!" Maggie continued, taking the bags and handing them to Regan. "Or tried to. Please don't do that again."

"Not for the wide world," I said, kissing her cheek.

Inside the house was warm. Maggie and Regan had done a considerable job decorating. Twinkle lights glowed in windows and on the tree, the light reflected by the round ornaments and sent shimmering around the room. The scents of pine and peppermint and hot mulled wine warmed the air and made it ever more welcoming. Now to just keep it this way...

8:10 p.m.

It was getting late, dark and still snowing. The peanut butter and chocolate cookies were done and Dylan and I were on to the sugar cookies. Maggie and Regan were trying to wrap each other in tinsel as covertly as possible, which was made more interesting with the knowledge that they had both consumed more wine than they needed.

I wasn't paying attention to the cookies Dylan had cut out and was decorating, just carefully transferring them from counter to cookie sheet and from cookie sheet to cooling rack.

"Hey, Mum, come here! I want to show you what I did."

Maggie swam by and looked over her son's shoulder, tinsel winking in her hair and hanging off her shirt.

"What's this?" she asked.

"This one's me, and you, and Brian. And Regan and Keller." Dylan pointed out the different cookies. Each of us had our distinctive features, and a few had extras. A carefully spelled out M for Mum, or Maggie, a D for Dylan.

"Who's this one?"

"That one's Brian."

Maggie made a small sound and ran out of the kitchen. I looked at the cookie and was confused. So the letter was... a D. A typo, perhaps? Regan gave me a wide-eyed look. Go after her.

I found Maggie in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet and sobbing. It was an awkward moment. I sat down next to her, as well as I could on the edge of the tub.

"What's wrong?" I asked, stroking her hair. She wiped her eyes, leaving smudges of eyeliner on her cheeks.

"He idolizes you," she muttered. She shoved a folded piece of paper into my hand.

Dear Santa,
Hi. My name is Dylan Richard Mitchell, and I only want one thing for Christmas. I want Brian Campbell to be my dad. He's really cool, and he likes me and Mom. He plays football with me (that's soccer) and lets me help with Keller, his dog. Keller means Little Companion, which is good, because Keller's a little dog. I have another reason to want him to be my dad too. I think it would make my mom happy, because she likes him too, and it's gotta be hard trying to deal with me all by herself. Then we could be a family, like my friend Tommy.

If you can't get this for me for Christmas, then I would like World Cup Soccer for my Playstation 2.

Sincerely,
Dylan Mitchell

This took a moment to comprehend. Aside from being a very well worded letter (in truth, much better than some of the papers my students turn in), this innocent Christmas wish was heart-rending in simplicity and sincerity.

"This is what's bothering you?"

"He deserves a father."

Part of me wanted to ask "And what am I, chopped liver?" but it would have been very inappropriate.

"Yes, he does. Do you object to me?" I asked instead.

"Oh, God, no," she said, looking up. "It's just- I don't want him to be disappointed if things don't work out between us in the long run."

"Do you foresee problems?" I did my best to cover the stab of fear I felt at that prospect.

"No, I don't, but I have to think about that possibility. For him. He adores you, really. Jimmy's tried to do spontaneous things with him, but each time Dylan's nixed it. 'Brian and me are going to play football,' 'Brian needs me to help train Keller.' Need I say Jimmy's not pleased with that?"

"He's a remarkable boy," I said. "You know how I feel about him. I'm flattered he feels the same."

"I know. I'm just ... scared, I guess. This just seems to be moving so fast. Our first official date was less than a week ago."

"Yes. But sometimes things work like that. It was like that with Max and Stephanie. They knew within a month that they would be together. I'm not proposing marriage, Maggie. But I'm not going anywhere. You don't have to worry about that."

"Thank you. I'm sorry."

"For what?" I asked, brushing a few stray hairs from her face. "For being a caring mother? For wanting the best for Dylan?"

"For doubting you. You're too good to me. You deserve someone better."

"I want you, and Dylan. You'll never convince me otherwise. Tinsel and all." I pulled a strand out of her hair and smiled. She whimpered and covered her face with her hands.

"How do you put up with me?" she asked, pulling more out.

"Easily, darling. Let me deal with this," I said, tucking Dylan's letter into my pocket. "I have an idea. How about you stay the night? Dylan's about to crash anyway, and the weather's horrible. And that way we'll all be together for Christmas morning."

"Where will we sleep?"

"Dylan can take the living room couch, and we can kick Regan into the office."

"I don't think she'll go for that."

"She won't!" Regan said, tossing the door open. "We thought you might've fallen in. What's this about kicking me out of my room?"

"Brian suggested that Dylan and I stay the night."

"That's a good idea. There's at least a foot and a half out there now." Regan sat down next to me on the tub. "But you're not taking my bed. I don't sleep well on sofas, not even swanky leather sofas. I say you sleep with Brian."

If this had been a cartoon, I would have fallen backward into the bathtub. Thankfully in real life I have a little more control.

"Uh-"

"We haven't decided anything," Maggie said, a light blush tinting her cheeks. "The Chief has four wheel drive, and I've driven in worse weather than this."

"Not with me knowing about it," I countered. "I don't like the idea of you and Dylan going out there tonight. By now there's probably ice, and the plows won't be going through till tomorrow at the earliest. I'd feel much better if you stayed tonight."

Maggie looked around the room and wiped her eyes.

"Well, I'm glad we've got a change of clothes in the Chief."

"What about presents?" Regan asked.

"They're in there too. Last year he found them all."

"Sound familiar?" Regan said. I knew exactly what she was talking about.

"You did the same thing three years running, from the age 8. Mum had to keep all of our presents at Aunt Peg's house."

Regan smirked and wheeled, walking away.

"Does it bother you at all, that he compares you to Max?" Maggie asked, standing up and wobbling a little. I just smiled.

11:45 p.m.

Dylan did indeed crash on the sofa, not long after that little scene in the bathroom. He didn't know what happened in there, and he didn't need to know. What passed between his mother and I was our business, even though it concerned him.

Once Dylan was asleep, I swept the snow off of the trucks and took an opportunity to form and launch two or three snowballs into the street before pulling them into the garage. I retrieved a bundle of wrapped presents and a small overnight bag. The snow had stopped for the most part, and everything was under a thick layer of white. Despite a heavy coat and gloves, the sleeves of my sweater were soaked by the time I got in.

Maggie was waiting for me in the living room. The lights were kept to a minimum, with lit candles adding a soft glow and warm vanilla scent. The candles were new, something from Maggie, and very welcome.

"You look cold," she said, taking a stack of presents and arranging them around the tree.

"Very astute," I answered. "Wouldn't mind a nice, roaring fire right about now."

"Poor dear." She kissed me, wrapping her arms around my neck. "Let's see if we can remedy that."

I couldn't resist one little prank. My cold hands found their way just under her shirt to a warm spot on her back. She bit back a yelp.

"Shh, they're asleep." I nodded in the direction of the sofa, where Dylan and Keller were curled up under a blanket.

"That was mean."

"I think of it as playful."

"Yeah, well. It was still mean."

"All right, I'll accept that. And as punishment, I'll take the couch in the office, and you can sleep in my bed. I just changed the sheets."

Instead of heading upstairs, I sat in an armchair and made myself comfortable. Maggie settled herself on my lap, resting her head on my shoulder.

"You don't have to do that," she said.

"I do. It's drafty in the office, and I don't want you getting sick."

"And who says I want you to?"

"Well now, I've got the constitution of a horse, I do. Takes a fair bit to get me sick. I'll be all right."

"Brian, you're funny. I've never been good at sleeping in strange places."

"You've been here often enough, I hoped you'd be more comfortable."

"But I've never slept here," she said, plucking at the damp cuffs of my shirt. She turned them back, once, twice. My watch came off and she began to knead my hands. "And I don't really sleep well without Quigley."

The massage was welcome, bringing warmth back into fingers and palms. It didn't blind me to her comment, however.

"Just who is Quigley?" I asked, pretending to bristle at the mention of another male name.

Maggie was reluctant to answer, but a few gentle pokes to the ribs garnered a response.

"A stuffed animal. Quigley the Piggly. I've had him since high school, and I've gotten used to sleeping with him. You jealous?"

"No, not really. Now that I know he's not a rival." I liked the feel of her hands in mine. They fit very well. "If you like, you can use the bathroom down here, or the one in my room. I'll give you a head start. I've got a few things to finish, cleaning up, locking doors." Setting out more gifts.

"All right." The clock began to chime. It was midnight. "Is that really the time?"

"Last I knew, yes. Merry Christmas, Maggie."

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart."

I pulled her to me for a simple kiss, but things never seem to be simple between us. We might have taken things too far if it had not been for a little interference.

"Did Santa come yet?" Dylan asked in a small, sleepy voice. It was a bit like having a handful of snow shoved down... the back of my shirt. Maggie stood up far too fast for my liking. He wasn't totally awake, anyway, so a few allowances could be made. "Do you think he'll know to come here?"

"I'm sure he does, honey. But he hasn't come yet," she said, looking at me.

"I think he's waiting for all of us to be in bed. Back to sleep, now, or he won't come at all."

The boy smiled, his eyes closing, and was soon asleep. Maggie sighed and kissed my cheek.

"I'll be upstairs."

I took my time going about my night-time ritual. It helped me marshal my thoughts and get a modicum of control over my emotions and impulses. Maggie was staying the night, in my house, in my bed, with me. I considered stepping outside for a few minutes without coat, boots and gloves.

When I was satisfied in the security and cleanliness of hearth and home, and placed two envelopes and a small box beneath the tree, I went upstairs. Maggie was lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling fan.

My bedroom is rather Spartan in furnishing. Aside from the bed there was a plain but serviceable dresser, an ancient armchair and two nightstands, one on either side of the bed. It serves the purpose needed, and it is comfortable enough. Now, though, I realised how bare it was. Plans immediately started forming about how to make it more appealing for a woman's taste. Stephanie would have to be consulted, I thought, rather than Regan. I could deal with her teasing criticism better than my sister's. Another surprise for Maggie.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Maggie asked, still studying the steady rotation of the fan.

"No," I answered in on honesty. "People will talk, I'm sure of it."

"People are talking now." I stopped rifling through my underwear drawer. Her matter-of-fact delivery forced me to acknowledge what had been floating in the back of my mind, something I knew but chose to ignore.

"I know." Chosen pyjamas in hand, I started for the bathroom, noting Maggie's overnight bag by the door.

"Somehow I thought you'd be more worried about that."

"They can't fire me for dating a student. It's looked down on, but not wholly illegal."

"But I'm not a student. I'm withdrawing, remember?" Maggie sat up and looked into the bathroom after me. I saw her in the mirror as I pulled on pyjama pants.

"That's something I'd like to talk to you about." I emerged from the bathroom, tee shirt in hand, and could not help chuckling at Maggie's appreciative grin. Those hours spent at the gym were well spent, I thought as I pulled the shirt over my head. "I don't want you sacrificing your education for me. Who knows when you'll be able to continue? Yes, there will be talk, but just imagine what they'll say if you don't go back. I'd rather have my reputation ruined than yours."

"But-"

"No buts. Have you actually withdrawn yet?" She shook her head. "Who's your advisor?"

"Jamie Travers, in the theatre department."

"Then we'll call him after New Years and see about getting you registered for next semester."

"Brian, I won't have time! Not with work, and Dylan, and now you. I have my priorities, darling, and Dylan tops the list. I need to take care of him, and to do that I need to work and I need to maintain a stable relationship with you. Schoolwork doesn't fit in the picture."

"I think you'll find it much easier to take care of Dylan with me around," I said, pulling back the covers. "And with a university degree you'll be able to earn more or even get a better job."

Maggie slipped into bed beside me, not quite out of reach. "I don't want to talk about this right now," she said. "I'm tired." She tugged at the elastic holding her hair back, set it on the table and turned off the light.

"I can still go down to the office," I offered.

"That's not necessary," she said, moving a little closer. "I just don't want to talk any more."

I moved closer as well, until I could comfortably put my arms around her and vice versa.

"You're giving Quigley a run for his money," she murmured.

"I thought you didn't want to talk any more."

"Goodnight, Brian."

"Goodnight, Maggie."

She was soon sleeping, and I was about to follow. From the corner of my eye I imagined I saw Emily standing at the foot of the bed, her face twisted into a hateful scowl. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the woman in my arms, her steady, deep breathing and the faint scent of her perfume. Within moments Emily was forgotten and I fell asleep.

Way Too Early Christmas Morning

"Mom! Brian! Santa came! He found us!" Dylan launched himself onto the bed, followed closely by his shadow, Keller. I looked at the clock. It was barely 6 o'clock.

"Great, honey," Maggie said, her voice thick with sleep. She stifled a yawn. "Has Brian taught you how to make coffee?"

"Yeah." I laughed, my eyes still closed. 5 more minutes, please.

"Good. Go start a pot and we'll be down in a minute."

"Okay." Dylan reluctantly clambered off the bed with Keller not far behind.

"A boy and his dog," Maggie said, shaking her head. She leaned over and kissed me. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome." I had no idea what for, but I wasn't about to argue with her.

We went downstairs and were greeted with the sound of coffee percolating and the sight of Dylan sitting under the tree surrounded by presents. I sat in my chair and Maggie perched on the arm.

"This one's for you, Mom," Dylan said, handing her a light blue envelope, sealed in dull red wax. This was it. She slipped off the arm of the chair and sat beside her son.

"How about finding one for Brian? I'm sure Santa wouldn't forget him." She set the envelope aside, much to my chagrin. Open it!

"Should we wait for Auntie Regan?"

"You'll be waiting till noon," I said. "Go wake her up. Jump on the bed. Get a snowball and put it in her sheets."

Dylan grinned and scampered off.

"That's dangerous," Maggie said, picking the letter up again and breaking the seal. I watched and waited while she read the contents.

Her face went white.

Her jaw dropped.

A small scream escaped her throat...

And she fainted.

Section 9

Posted on Thursday, 8 July 2004

Still Too Early Christmas Morning, December 24th. Thursday.

Maggie fainting wasn't quite the effect I was going for, but I recalled a promise that I'd make her swoon, and this qualified. I'd never had anyone faint from reading a love letter.

Dearest, Darling Maggie

For the longest time, I have wanted to give a voice to the emotions in my soul, but every time I try, the words vanish like so many snowflakes in the warmth of your smile and I am rendered speechless.

Every day I hope to see you, to spend just one moment in your company. I cherish each second, saving them for review when my world is devoid of colour, warmth, light and laughter. For that is what you do for me; you give me moments of shining joy in an otherwise empty world. I long to see your smile, or the sparkle in your eyes when you talk of those you love, and I hope that I may one day be counted among those privileged people.

The Greeks and Romans wrote about Helen of Troy, the most beautiful woman in the ancient world. I can only think she looked like you. Shakespeare wrote of beautiful women; Juliet, Desdemona, Katherina and Ophelia. He must have been thinking of a woman like you, else he would not have been able to write so elegantly. I refrain from quoting poetry or prose, simply because you may think the sentiment hollow, when my intent is anything but.

And now I come to my purpose; that is, to tell you on paper what I am not able to say in person. My life has changed because of you; in so many ways it would take a forest to tell you all in one letter. You cannot but know that I love you, and you assured me of your own regard a few nights ago. Believe me when I say I love you and that I would do anything for you.

You once said that you have never received a love letter. If you accept this, many more will follow, each as sincere as this first one.

I am ever your
Brian

Dylan reappeared, and I sent him to my room to retrieve a bottle of cologne. I don't have smelling salts, and they were needed. Keller did his part and licked her face.

I almost expected her to slap me when she came to. Thankfully, she didn't.

"What happened?"

"You fainted."

"Did I?" she asked as I helped her sit up. "Oh, that smells good. You should wear it more often."

"Thank you," I said.

"Did you mean that?" she continued, holding out the paper. I nodded.

"Every word." I was seated beside her, and this assurance was rewarded with Maggie leaning back against me and pulling my arm around her.

This exchange was carried out quietly while Dylan read his own letter. As promised, I had taken on the role of Santa Claus and formed a reply that he would hopefully accept. I watched as his small face furrow in concentration, his brows lowered and lips pursed.

"What's wrong, Dylan?" I asked. He handed me the letter without comment.

Dear Master Dylan;

I was very pleased to receive your Christmas wish this year. It is not often that children think of the happiness of their parents, especially at Christmastime, and your letter was very refreshing.

Unfortunately, I am saddened to report that I cannot fulfill your wish this year, but I will keep it on file and do my best to honour your request next Christmas. This Brian fellow sounds like a very good man, and just the thing you and your mother need.

I know you have been very helpful and well-behaved for your mother, and I'm proud of you. Keep up the good work.

Sincerely,
Santa H. Claus

I was very pleased with this little bit of correspondence. I could be very creative in a pinch. Maggie took the letter from me and read it, giving me a cautious glance when she was finished.

"I never got a letter from Santa," she said. "We'll have to save this."

Dylan looked at me.

"I wanted you to be my dad!" he blurted, almost on the verge of tears. "It's all I wanted for Christmas!"

"Hey, hey," I said, trying to head off what promised to be a full-on fit. "It's all right. Come here." Dylan scooted over and I wrapped my other arm around him. "Maybe I'm not officially your father this Christmas, but that won't stop me from acting like your father, if that's what you want. We can work on the official part for next year. Does that sound good?"

"Yeah."

"All right. Give us a smile, then. You've got more presents to open."

I wish I could have known what Maggie was thinking that morning, as gifts were exchanged, but some things are best left alone. All outward appearances showed a happy young woman, and I could only hope the interior matched.

10:00 a.m. Christmas Morning

I waited to give her my second gift. I wanted it to be a private moment, without prying eyes of sister, son and dog, and I didn't have a chance until much later.

Dylan and Keller were playing a lively game of tug-of-war with what appeared to be one of my socks. I could only imagine where they had gotten it, and I'm sure the most likely was correct. His gifts, and those of Maggie and Regan and myself lay under the tree, the wrapping and bows long since stuffed into a garbage bag and taken out to the garage.

Apparently there was a family brunch that Maggie and Dylan were missing due to a continuation of the blizzard. We were snowbound for the time being, as she tried to explain to her mother.

"Mom- Mom! We're fine ... We're at Brian's... Yes, we spent the night ... No, nothing happened ... Nothing! He slept on the sofa in his office ... Yes, he has an office in his house ... Yes, he changed the sheets. I could even smell the fabric softener ... I don't care, mom ... Yes, I know. There's two and a half feet of snow outside ... Yes, the Chief has four wheel drive, but he's older than dirt and wouldn't make it ... I'm sure everyone misses us, but we'll be there for New Years ... I'm not Mother Nature, Mom, I can't control the weather ... We're waiting for Max-Max Parker, Mom, Dylan's soccer coach-to come by with his snow blower ... Mom, I gotta go. Food's getting cold here ... Yes, he's feeding us. Stop worrying, Mom! Bye ... Yes, I love you too."

Maggie turned the phone off and threw it at the sofa. She put enough force into it that the phone ricocheted and landed on the floor. Keller ... well, it's probably best not to discuss what Keller did with it.

2:10 p.m.

Max runs on his own time. He said he would come by to help clear out my driveway around noon, and he was just pulling up at two. Granted, it was Christmas, so he was easily forgiven.

Until he found out that Maggie and Dylan had spent the night.

"You lucky dog!" he crowed once he found out The Chief was in my garage and had been for some time. I thought the two trucks fit in there rather nicely. "Getting a little Christmas action, are we? It's about time!"

"No, I didn't get any 'Christmas action,' as you put it. The weather was too bad to let her go home, that's all. It was completely unplanned."

"Right. Unplanned. Maybe on your part."

"She didn't want to stay," I said.

"Fine. Tell me, did she sleep in her clothes? Did she bum something off the Gypsy Broad?"

"No, she had ... an overnight bag and changes of clothes for herself and Dylan." Had she counted on staying the night? Max smirked.

"Like I said. Unplanned on your part." He settled himself in the seat of his riding mower/snow blower. "I don't know why you didn't take advantage of the situation. I would have. I mean, how often are you going to have her spending the night? Aside from when you get married. After that I'd hope she'd stay over every night."

"It's probably a good think I'm not you, then. I'm a bit more reserved."

"I would never have known." He started the machine and had to shout over the engine. "And I don't know why you're out here when your snuggle-bunny's inside! Or why you want to give her an opportunity to leave so quickly!"

I always hate it when Max has a point, but it's such a rare occurrence that I can usually scowl and be done with it.

But he was right. I didn't want her to leave. She belonged here, her and Dylan. They just fit. Dylan had already claimed his own room, in a manner of speaking. The tower room above my office. One rainy afternoon he went exploring and ended up there. I had been working on grading papers, and I found him there later, making up stories about knights and dragons and flying machines, all with Keller as his faithful companion. I joined in then, doing my best to fill the roles of villain and force of nature. Maggie came to pick him up late that night, and was framed in the doorway, a painting to rival da Vinci in beauty and genius.

It felt right. Even then, when so much had remained unspoken between us, it felt right. And now there were so many possibilities!

"I see Max finally showed up," Maggie said, greeting me at the door. "I bet you're anxious to get rid of us."

"Never," I answered with complete honesty. "You're welcome to stay as long as you like." Preferably forever. You can keep your schedule, just come here every night.

"I'm sure. It seems to get harder and harder to leave. Part of the Campbell charm?"

"Most definitely," I said, twirled my moustache and making Maggie laugh. "I'm glad to see you're not impervious to it."

"I am impervious to a lot of things, Dr. Campbell. The jury's still out on the Campbell charm. Now, Dylan, on the other hand, he's the one who can't resist it."

"Uh-huh."

I glanced around to make sure the coast was clear and nuzzled her neck, leaving a small trail of kisses from nape to ear. She giggled and pulled away. I listened, and heard Max's tractor move on. Maggie and Dylan would be going soon. And with no one around, it was a perfect time to give her my other gift.

"Ah, yes. I forgot this one earlier."

Maggie's eyes went wide as I pulled the jeweller's box from a jacket pocket.

"Merry Christmas, Maggie. I love you." It was so good to finally say it. She opened the lid, letting the weak winter sun catch the gold links and catch in the two small diamonds set near the clasp.

"I don't know what to say!"

"It's called an Add A Link bracelet. I'll buy a new link for every special event."

"Brian, this is too much!" The shock in her voice bothered me. I had not expected this reaction. "It's too expensive!"

"You're worth it," I assured her. She picked the bracelet up and ran her fingers over it. "I wanted to get you something special."

"And it is, but-"

"But you're putting it on." Maggie looked down at her wrist, where she had fastened it. "I know it's not much right now, but hopefully I'll be able to add to it soon."

"That's not it! A week ago you said that you needed to take it slow because you didn't want to get hurt, and now you've gone and invested in a diamond bracelet! That's... considerable. And your sister ... and your mother... I love them to death, but 'Auntie Regan' and 'Grannam'? That's pretty fast, even for me."

"I had no hand in that," I said. "Blame Regan. And in case you haven't noticed, Dylan's been trying to get us together since we met. I don't mind that he calls them aunt and grandmother. In fact, I like it. You remember his Christmas wish? He wants a family, and this way he has it, even if it's not official. Maggie, I love you, and I love Dylan, and- that's the truth of it."

She looked from me to the bracelet and back again. There was a war going on inside of her. I watched as conflicting emotions fought for supremacy and wished I could do something to ease her mind, even though I was responsible for a large part of the turmoil.

I took her hand in mine, not holding on too tight even though I wanted to. The fear that had dogged my actions for so long returned, and for one fleeting moment I heard the maniacal laughter that was Emily's.

"It shouldn't be this easy!" Maggie wailed, utterly dispelling the haunting laughter. "Why is everything falling in place so easily? There's going to be trouble, I know it! Nothing has ever been easy for me, not like this. I don't understand this at all!"

For some strange reason, I wanted to laugh. I didn't. Instead I put my arms around her and held her close, letting her cry out her frustration on my shoulder.

"Some things you can't understand," I said. "But I'll tell you this. If there is trouble, anywhere down the road, we'll deal with it. You're precious to me." Then, on a crazy impulse: "My Preeeeeciousssss!"

That horrible imitation had a positive effect. Maggie laughed, punctuated by a loud, unmistakable snort.

"Right. Let's not talk about this right now. Keep the bracelet as my promise that this is real and good, and that I won't do anything so senselessly romantic and expensive again until you give me leave to. Is it a deal?"

Maggie wiped her eyes and nodded.

"All right. Max's done. When did you want to leave?"

"Who said anything about leaving?" I smiled, even though Maggie was extracting herself from my arms. It meant she was feeling better, and was not averse to staying in my company.

"Now, I believe I have an appointment outside. Dylan asked if we could build a snowman today."

"Good idea. It's perfect outside for a snowman." She couldn't keep her hand off her wrist. "Thank you. It's beautiful."

I kissed her, which was (and is) much better than talking, and I wished with all my heart that another Ice Age would come and keep us snowbound.

Dylan and I made our snowman, and a snowdog, all under the watchful eyes of Maggie and Regan. Keller tried to help, but ended up disappearing beneath two and a half feet of snow. He decided to stay in the paths made from rolling the body of Pete, our snowman. We tried to coerce Maggie and Regan into joining us outside, but to no avail. Ah, well, there would be other days. It was still bitter cold out, and they had hot cocoa ready for us when we came in, so we forgave them.

Maggie and Dylan didn't leave until after dinner that night. We all went over to Max and Stephanie's, which was where Regan and I had intended to go anyway, and Maggie and Dylan went home from there. I had to endure Max and Regan's teasing afterward, and Stephanie's scrutiny, since none of them had missed the gold and diamond bracelet on Maggie's wrist.

"Are you sure that was a good idea, giving it to her?" Stephanie asked as she and I were washing the dinner dishes. "It's a very big gift."

"I know."

"Someone might think-"

"That I'm in love with a beautiful, wonderful woman and want to shower lavish gifts on her?"

"That you're setting yourself up for another Emily situation. You've known Maggie for four months. I shouldn't have to tell you to be careful. She's a wonderful girl, yes, but you really don't know her that well."

"Thank you for your concern," I said, trying not to bristle at this unwanted criticism. Stephanie was only looking out for me, given my unfortunate track record, and I just had to remind myself of that. "I'm meeting with Vera on Monday."

December 29th. Monday. 3:00 p.m.

Vera Stevens reminds me of the captain from the Disney movie Treasure Planet, that slightly batty human/cat person. Tommy and Lisa made me watch it one afternoon, and I enjoyed it. But I digress. Vera Stevens is a vastly intelligent woman, slender and athletic, with short red-brown hair and sharp green eyes. The first time I saw her smile, I expected to see neat little incisors.

Her office is right next to Stephanie's, and is tastefully decorated, but on this occasion it was terribly confining. I felt like a caged animal.

"Please sit down, Dr. Campbell," Vera said, gesturing to the sofa. I sat, more from being told via firm command than an actual desire to sit.

"Brian, if you like," I answered. She nodded.

"Try to relax, Brian. I'm here to help, not judge you. Will you please tell me why you're here?"

"I thought Stephanie told you." It was a defensive manoeuvre, and Vera saw through it.

"Hostility will not help you, Brian," she said, folding her hands in her lap. "If you are unwilling to talk about your problems, you will not be able to solve them. You've realised you have a problem, and you made the appointment to see me. You're wasting my time and yours by stalling like this."

I tried to make myself as small as possible. It's not easy.

"I have been seeing the ghost of my dead wife, and she's been talking to me." I was rather surprised that she didn't flinch. Perhaps she heard this sort of thing often.

"What has she been saying?"

"Uh, derogatory comments toward me and my girlfriend." I watched as Vera made a note on her legal pad. I had a white-knuckle grip on my knees.

"Is your girlfriend experiencing this as well?"

"Not that I'm aware of. I'm sure she'd tell me if she were seeing the ghost of a blonde woman in a hospital gown."

"Uh-huh. Tell me about your late wife. What was her name? How did you meet?"

"That was ten years ago!"

"Sometimes you have to go back that far, and farther still to start to heal. Where did you meet?"

"Uh, at a... party. Max Parker dragged me to a concert and the party afterward. His cousin managed the band, and Emily was there. I was immediately taken by her beauty. She was tall, blonde, shapely, with legs up to her neck. It was love at first sight for me, and I thought it had been the same for her."

"You thought? What indication did she give?"

"She was flirting outrageously, going so far as to suggest going home to her apartment afterward."

"Hmm. How did things progress?"

"Very well. Very quickly. It was September when I met her, and ... December when I married her."

I paused, seeing similarities that were disconcerting. I had met Maggie in September and fallen in love with her then. Only now December was almost over, and as much as I wanted to I hadn't so much as proposed. Perhaps this was a good sign.

"A whirlwind romance, then. How would you describe your marriage with Emily?"

"It was ... fine. We might've fought more than most couples."

"Now, you mentioned that you've been hearing derogatory comments from her. I'm under the impression that you weren't surprised by them."

"Not really." I had to think. After Emily died, I did my best to forget all the bad times and remember only the good. For the most part I was successful.

"I'm going to suggest something and I don't expect you to agree with it. Do you think Emily was abusive?"

"She wouldn't hurt a fly," I said. I stood up and began to pace. It felt like the walls were closing in, and I suddenly felt very warm.

"A person doesn't have to hit someone to be abusive. It's a common misconception. Did she ever discount you, or make you feel worthless? Yell at you for no reason, or accuse you of things you didn't do? Try to alienate you from the things you enjoy and people you care about?"

She waited patiently while I dredged up memories. Unexplained anger, illogical raving, yes, there had been much of that. And names. Every name under the sun, and a few from darker regions.

"Yes," I said, my voice more a growl than anything. My hands found an old magazine and were busy rolling and unrolling it, slapping it against my palm and the back of the sofa.

"Verbal and emotional abuse is very common, and it leaves scars far deeper than any physical abuse. How long did this last?"

"Ah, a year and a half, two years. More." Two or so years of hell, where Christopher Marlowe and Mephistopheles were my closest friends. Signing over my soul would have been less painful.

"What happened then?"

"I had finally had enough, and was about to file for divorce when the doctors found cancer. It had started in the liver and metastasised, and when they found it, it was too late. She had six months to live, at most. She begged me to stay, and I did."

"Ah. Now for a loathsome question. How did you feel about that?"

"It is rather clichéd, isn't it?" She nodded. "Resentful. I didn't want to, but she was dying. I still loved her, and there was no way I could refuse her."

"Even after all this, you still loved her? Do you still love her now?"

"No." It was very easy to say that. And I meant it. I stopped loving Emily a year or so after she died, and after that I stopped feeling. Until I met Maggie.

"When did she pass?"

"March 15th, 1997." Beware the ides of March indeed. Rather fitting, I had thought, although Caesar had been much loved by his people. It seemed that I had been the only person to love Emily.

"In the seven or so years that she has been gone, have you been bothered by these visions, or are they relatively recent? When did they start?"

"Uh, a little over a week ago." I had a feeling that answer wasn't acceptable, as it gave too little information. I had to admit some kind of defeat and I sank back onto the sofa. "Thursday night. I was out on a date with my girlfriend, and I saw her. Just for a moment, but it was still very vivid."

Vera was writing on her notepad, the only sign of thought being two small lines between her eyebrows.

"I'm concerned about this," she said after a moment. "About your seeing these visions. The most logical part of me says that they are a manifestation of your insecurities about dating again. But in all my years of experience, I've learned that logic doesn't always work. It is possible that you are genuinely being haunted by this woman. Stephanie has disclosed some of Emily's less favourable traits, and from what she has said and what you have said, Emily seems to have been a very hateful person, with her own problems. To take a more mystic or spiritual view- Tell me, what is the state of your relationship with your current girlfriend?"

I was a bit taken aback by this question and the theories she was posing.

"We've technically been dating for twelve days. It feels like longer, though. More like we've always been together."

"That's good. So you're happy, then. And it's a stable relationship?"

"Stable enough. We just spent Christmas together, and everything was fine."

"All right. Now, I know this is a bit strange and perhaps a little unprofessional, but humour me. The thought crossed my mind that Emily knew you loved her and relished it, because not many people did. She probably knew a good thing when she saw it. And now that good thing has moved on, and she doesn't like it. It's far fetched, I know, but-"

"But it makes sense." And it did, if one believed that sort of thing. I knew Vera was eccentric, but not this much. But Emily had always gotten terribly jealous whenever any woman talked to me, and that was something we frequently fought about. I remembered that Maggie had gotten jealous over that Candy woman on our first date, but not to the same extent.

"We'll be able to discuss this more in depth later. I'm afraid the session is over-"

"Wait. For the most part I have been ignoring this paranormal or psychological phenomena. Should I continue, or try to talk with her- er, it?"

"Continue to ignore it. If you like, you can develop a mantra that will help, or imagine a place you would rather be or people you would rather be with. You remember in French Kiss, the girl is afraid of flying and she has a mantra she recites and visualises a little stone cottage. This is much the same thing."

"You're assuming I saw French Kiss. And it's not quite the same thing."

Regan and I went to Max and Stephanie's for dinner that night. Stephanie made it a point to not talk about my first ever therapy session. Before I left the office, Vera asked me to sign a waiver that would allow her to consult with Stephanie about certain particulars of the case. I had no doubt that much of that consultation had all ready happened.

Max and Tommy got me involved with a video game, effectively taking my mind off the fact that Maggie was out with Jimmy Walker. Dylan was being watched by the competent and seemingly ever-available Sarah. I didn't consider until it was too late that he could have come with us. A snivelling little voice whispered that it was a slip up in my promise to act more like his father. I ignored it.

The children had gone to bed, and I was getting restless. Other distractions weren't working, despite the earnest efforts of friends and family. As much as I was sure of her affection for me, I was nervous about Maggie being on a date with her former boyfriend. Of all my observations of the man, I could tell that he could be very persuasive, which I suppose is a virtue among lawyers, and I could not trust him.

I left my keys with Regan and walked home.

"It's three miles!" Max said.

"I'll live. I need to think, and this works."

"Be careful. Maggie will never forgive me if anything happened to you." I gave Stephanie a weak smile.

"Huh! Dylan'd never forgive you." As my younger sister, I am allowed to ignore Regan. Stephanie knows when to as well. I decided it would be better to leave before Max and Regan started in again, which I could see was about to happen.

"Can I go too?" Stephanie asked, her sixth sense kicking in. I shrugged.

"If you like. It's cold out, and it is three miles. And you are pregnant. Max would never forgive me if anything happened to you."

Perhaps I was lost in my own bad mood, but I didn't realise that she didn't quite answer.

"Is Maggie going to call you when she gets back?" she asked instead, handing me my scarf and gloves.

"I don't know."

"Don't beat yourself up about it. She's not about to do anything stupid. I know she loves you."

"It's not her I'm worried about," I said.

"Ah, yes, Jimmy Walker, the Wonder Sleaze. He doesn't stand a chance against you. I mean, what has he give her that could compare with a diamond bracelet and a beautifully written love letter? Don't worry, I didn't read it, I'm just going from what she said."

"Thank you. I'll call you when I get home."

Not even the dead of a winter night would stop Emily from appearing. Somewhere in the back of my mind I wondered why she didn't seem to be affected by the cold. Then I remembered that she was dead, and naturally wouldn't feel extremes in temperature, or anything at all.

"So. Your girlfriend is out with her ex boyfriend. I've seen him. He's a foxy one. Probably got her in the backseat of his car as we speak. And you're a wreck, 'cause you know it's the truth! Aww. How sweet."

I ignored her. I tried to, at least. She kept pace with me, reminding me vaguely of Keller. And she kept up her verbal tirade.

"I see you went to that doctor today. A therapist. Think you'd get rid of me that easily? Go see a shrink and you'll be cured? Trust me, bucko, you'll never be rid of me. I'm a part of you now. I know just what I did to you, it's been pointed out to me, repeatedly, by one of your friends. Dear Mephistopheles. What was that phrase you used, when you thought I couldn't hear? When I was sick, in the hospital? 'Why, this is hell, nor am I out of it'? You know nothing about hell! Anyway, dear Mephisto is much better than you ever were. I'd rather have him than you any day. Dear little Maggie doesn't know what she's gotten herself into now, has she? She will, soon enough!"

All through her discourse, Emily's voice rose. Every sentence saw a higher tone, as she came to realise that I would not respond. The taunting didn't stop, and wouldn't, not for a long time. I knew that. But for the night, it was over. I was numb with cold and fatigue, and her abuse was not effective. When I reached my house she was gone.

Regan arrived a few minutes later and went straight upstairs. I think she knew I needed to be alone, and I appreciated it. It was near eleven, or just after. The house was quiet. Even Keller was asleep.

My cell phone rang. I still hadn't changed it from "I'm Too Sexy," and it forced a smile.

"Brian Campbell."

My blood froze when I heard Dylan's voice, hushed and scared, on the other end.

"Brian? You better come quick!"

Continued In Next Section