MONTANA  CROSSWINDS

PART TWO:

Stepping out of the controlled environment of the plane was like stepping into a

refrigerator, Rachel noted with some dismay, standing at the bottom of the stepladder

at the side of the jet.  She turned to thank the pilot for his warning to put on jackets

they had brought along with them from Hromada and found that Cort was standing

behind her, color already returning to his face and looking as if he would have thrown

himself to the ground and kissed the tarmac if she’d not been standing in his way.  As

it was, the winds snipping through the air found a way to make her clothing seem as

warm and protective as tissue paper.  It was too late to try and cushion against that,

however, as she saw the pilot and landing crew begin to take out their luggage and

load it onto a trolley to take to the airport lobby.

Cort grabbed her hand and challenged her to run with him, so they jogged alongside

the trolley the short distance to the Gallatin Field concourse and breathed loud sighs

of relief when they reached indoors.  

“I didn’t realize it was going to be this cold!”  Rachel stammered.  She turned to look

back at the jet.  The skies above the surrounding mountains were pure blue and the

sun made all bright colors glare.  “It was summer in Hromada!”

Cort was standing there...breathing, as though he hadn't had the right kind of air to

breathe for ages.  His cheeks were glowing with the bite of the cool air, but his eyes

fairly sparkled like sunlight on the sea.

"Rachel," he asked, grabbing her about her waist and turning with her in a circle so

firmly that her feet flew out behind her, "do you have any idea how great this is for

me?"  He set her down, kissed her cherry-red nose tip, took her hand and said, "How

soon can we get off all this...pavement? I want to get out of here, out...there."  And he

pointed to the distant ridges of the Bridger Range.

“It’ll warm up as the day goes on,” said someone nearby, and they turned to see a young

woman standing nearby, a suitcase at her feet.  She had watched Cort swing Rachel

around with amusement and overheard Rachel’s exclamation.  “It just seems colder

here because there’s nothing to stop the wind.  You get into town and you’ll be fine.”

“Get into town!”  Rachel gasped.  Had Terry made arrangements for getting to the bed

and breakfast?  “Are you from around here?”

“Yes,” the woman smiled, a bit distracted because a voice on the intercom was announcing departure times.  “You need a rental car?”

“Something like that, yes,” Rachel laughed.  “That or a taxi.”

“No taxi,” they heard the pilot announce as he came up to them at that moment.  He held

up a packet for Cort to take.  “You’re all set for that as well.  Just go to the rental car

desk and show them what’s inside.  Sorry about the turbulence, by the way,” he told

Cort.  “Caught me a bit by surprise, too.”

Thanking both the pilot and the stranger, she and Cort walked briskly down the long

gallery of the Gallatin Field Airport, following signs that would lead them to their rental

car.  It was another thirty minutes before their luggage had been transferred to the

chosen car, but this passed quickly as Rachel gathered up brochures of local attractions

and information about Bozeman, Montana, not to mention a map that would get them to

the hotel.  Finally, they stood at the side of their rental car, a silver Jeep Wrangler,

cargo loaded, and keys jangling in hand. 

As Rachel drove the 8 miles southeast to Bozeman, Cort looked through the windshield

at the mountains.  Between him and them lay concrete roadway, traffic signals, tall silver

light poles, wooden telephone poles with wires blotching the view, cars, vans, trucks

whizzing past.  But the open land, the mountains were there...beyond it all. He tried to be

patient, to bide his time until they made their way through the small town and turned left, heading north up through a series of valleys, the snowcapped Bridger Range on their left. 

There were 15 miles, then, of more open road and as they sped along, a smile slowly

spread ever wider on his lips and he kept his left palm resting on Rachel's thigh as she

drove.

He'd ridden with her before, back in Emerald City, but the distances had been shorter.

He admired her quiet competence with the vehicle and, looking at her, said, "How's about

if I teach you about horses, Mrs. Wells, you teach me about automobiles?"

Bozeman was a burgeoning city and it proved to be as picturesque as the wild

countryside around them.  In fact, it reminded her a lot of the college town where she

had gone to school, especially since many of the residents looked to be college students,

and the mainstreet itself was filled to the brim with outfitters that catered to both the

visitor as well as academic needs.  The reason for this became apparent when they saw

signs for Montana State University.  Many of the buildings lining the main course

through Bozeman looked as though from...well, Cort's era.  She got a bit caught up in

driving slowly through the town, looking at the domesticated corners and variouslandmarks,

but Cort seemed to grow a bit more restless the more she meandered her way down the road. 

So she tried to get through the stops and starts of traffic to push them through.  She liked

the Jeep, liked it a lot, and when it appeared that Bozeman was finally in the rearview mirror,

decided to crank up a bit on the speed…not too fast, but it certainly was a temptation,

especially since the Jeep had four-wheel drive and every kind of power-punch they had

been able to come up with for a sports vehicle. The map had said about fifteen miles north

of the city, so it wasn’t long before they found themselves on a lone road with very little

traffic.  All the better, Rachel said, noting how Cort seemed to relax as well.

“Me?”  Rachel exclaimed, a bit surprised by Cort’s proposal.  They had discussed Cort

taking driving lessons while at Emerald City, but somehow the chance to do so had never

come up.  “Id be happy to teach you to drive, but…” she hesitated and then laughed. 

“I didn’t even think about riding horses out here.”

He raised one eyebrow.  "Didn't think...," then he chuckled. "Maybe I was doing enough thinking along those lines for the both of us. But, Darlin', you have to know I grew up on horseback, right?  And, after all, you did ride some while we were in Gladiator. There's

places out here I imagine you can't get to except on a good horse."  He looked at her

hopefully, head tipped slightly down now, both eyebrows raised high.

“Oh yeah,” Rachel said, and then flashed a smile at him, putting her hand over his.  “I’m

a little distracted right now…no!  You keep it right there!”  She felt like punching the accelerator to the floor and zooming up the rest of the road like a jet.  “I didn’t do too

bad back then, did I, although I suppose there is a lot more that I could learn, isn’t

there?  Okay, sweetheart.  It’s a deal.”

He smiled, then, licking his lips slowly. "What say we hurry on to the inn and, um, give

one another...lessons?"

“First lesson in driving…don’t run off the road in front of a policeman!” Rachel laughed,

feeling her cheeks go hot at the smile he gave her, sitting up straight as a state trooper

car sailed past them going in the opposite direction.  Fortunately, the signs that they

were almost to Silver Forest were not long in showing up.  “Just a few more minutes!”

In just a short while, she turned left and pulled into the parking area of the inn.  From

there, a set of wooden steps led down a slope to the entrance.  A sign, painted with a

picture of the inn, was attached to a smooth pine just to the left of the top step. They

both paused, luggage in hand and stared at the building that lay at the bottom of the steps.

Cort grinned widely, turning to look at Rachel.  "Log.  The thing is built of...logs."

He loved the look of it, hitched the suitcases a bit higher, and together came down to the

small entrance patio.  An old pot-bellied stove sat in a corner to the left, branches and

wild flowers filling its top.  He was feeling more at home by the second.

Rachel opened the door because his arms were full, and they entered into a large great

room and crossed to the simple sign-in desk made of vertical wood planking.  "Seems like

it's been arranged for us to have something called the 'turret room'," he said, leaning one

elbow on the desk and looking around.  Across the room was a fieldstone fireplace, fire

going even though it was early summer.  To the right of that was an enormous, single-

paned window with a wide-open view of the Bridger Range.  He walked over to it, just

standing there, looking at the mountains.

"Oh, Rachel," he murmured as she came up beside him, slipping her arm through his.

He leaned his cheek atop her head and said it again. "Oh, Rachel."

“We’re gonna need to think of something wonderful to thank Deidre,” she sighed.  Every

window in the hotel was big and grand enough to make the backdrop of the scenery seem

like a large painting, a painting that sometimes moved as winds rustled the tree-tops, or

changed the shapes of the clouds, sent butterflies and birds skittering hither and yon, and

even stuck an animal or two amid the prairie grasses.  She looked up at her husband and

saw such an expression on his face she wished she had a special kind of camera to capture

just that moment.  “This must feel so much like home to you,” she murmured.

"It's hard to put it into words," he said. "I wasn't sure such places still existed.  To find

this...to see all this still here...," he swallowed hard, "it means so much to me.  I...."  He

stopped and just looked at her, taking in the love in her eyes, her pleasure in his pleasure.

"I need to love you," he whispered, his voice slightly hoarse. "Now."

It was getting harder and harder to put him off, even though she had been plotting

something special for him for some time now.  All she could manage in response was a

tightening and crumpling of a part of his shirt with her hand, letting him know she felt

the need just as intensely; leaned into his embrace, wishing they didn’t have to go through

the trouble of check-in.  Plus, she was thinking of how much more…effective her plans

would be if it were the evening. 

The hotel manager nullified whatever response she had forming in her mouth by her arrival. 

“Welcome to Silver Forest Inn, Mr. and Mrs. Wells,” she said in greeting, holding up keys

to their room for Cort to take. She was a middle-aged woman with graying dark hair and

fresh rawboned features that told of many years out under the Big Sky.  “My name is

Margaret, and I’m the manager here.  So is my husband, Wilfred.  So if you need anything,

just ask.  Now, if you’ll just grab your things and follow me, I can take you up to the Turret Room.”

Glancing at each other with looks that said “at last!” they did follow her, up a stairwell

that was rather reminiscent of the tower in Neviditelny, but Rachel said nothing of that,

thankful it was only a few steps, not a hundred or so, and in moments, they were escorted

into their room. 

Apparently, Margaret was used to the reaction one got when entering the Turret room,

as she quietly stepped aside and pretended to inspect the bathroom while Rachel and Cort

took in the sight of the one-hundred and eighty degree panoramic view through more

picture windows looking out upon the mountain range.  This almost eclipsed the beauty

of the king-sized bed with a blue down comforter and pine log frame sitting in the middle

of the room. 

“I understand you will be here for a few nights,” Margaret broke in, when silence had

reigned for several seconds.  “Well, we’re glad to have you.  We serve some of the best

meals in the Bozeman area, and offer some of the best activities one can take part of in this

part of Montana.  Have you had a chance to see some of the brochures we have?  Yes? 

Well, then, I can give you a schedule of when meals are served and other services when

you are ready.”  With that, she smiled at them and descended the stairwell.

It was, indeed, a rather circular room at the top of a tower and the similarities of it did

not escape his notice.  After looking at the mountains, he flopped backwards, spread-eagled

on the thick comforter, sinking deeply into its downy depths.  Here, though, the walls

were angular and made of warmly-golden logs, not the stone of Kamen.  And instead of

the single small window, being in this room was nearly like being outside, the glass was

so expansive.  It was his tower room...redeemed.  And the quiet pleasure of the feeling of

that flowing through his limbs like some healing balm, adding the perfect touch to being

here.

Rachel was busying herself now putting her clothes in drawers and on hangers.  He had

the distinct feeling that she had her own timetable, her own plans for their wedding

night.  He smiled, watching her.  Well, he would let her have her way.  Closing his eyes,

he sighed...rather loudly.  If he were going to be a martyr, he wanted some small credit

for it! 

When she didn't turn from the closet, he sighed again and rolled onto his stomach,

practically drowning himself in the extraordinarily deep comforter.  He found in that

position, he was completely unable to add to his collection of sighs.  Indeed, he was

barely able to breathe.

She had to keep her back turned to him, otherwise he would see she was grinning from

ear to ear over his obvious sigh.  Poor Cort!  It was exasperation for being put off, no doubt

…she paused a bit, then shook her head slightly.  Now that she had seen the turret room

her first thought beyond the stunning view was that there was no way she was going to be

 the newly wed she wanted to be whilst all the natural world (and who knows what human

world with binoculars!) watched in broad daylight.  As much as she hated disappointing

him, Cort was going to have to definitely wait until she could secure more privacy.

Her hands found the secret package she had stored, found a place for it in the drawers. 

Finished with situating their things, she then turned back to the windows, noting that

Cort was face down in the comforter.  She giggled at the sight, happy to see him utterly

blissful now.  The windows were topped off by short blue valances that matched the

comforter, and to her relief, she saw that one window had a long string hanging down. 

Shades!  Whew!  They would be able to have some privacy then!

He didn't think in all his life he ever lain on anything quite so soft as this.  It was like

stepping out of the airplane onto one of the clouds and lying down.  He closed his eyes

and turned his head to one side, finding he still needed to breathe.  He couldn't.  The

blue billows curved up, cupping his face entirely. So he rolled over again onto his back,

opening his eyes just a slit, just enough to see what she was doing.  Ah, she'd discovered

window coverings.  Good. Perhaps...?  No.  Not yet.  She had begun brushing her hair. 

With a smaller sigh, he fought his way to a seated position, no easy feat atop so much

down. "What now, my love?" he asked, cocking his head.

"I’m hungry...aren’t you?  I would bet that you are, since you’ve had an empty stomach

for some time now," she replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed while she finished

brushing.  "I was thinking about taking a quick shower and then going down to see if we

can't get something to eat," she added.

"Shower?" he said, his voice going back down into that somewhat hoarse register.  "Um...

alone?"

Oh dear.  She gave in to an amused chuckle.  "You're going to be like this for the rest of

the day, aren't you?"  She asked.  She leaned forward and planted a kiss firmly on his

mouth.  "All the better, my sweet.  All the better!"  With another laugh, she got up from

the bed.

Also getting to his feet, he suddenly announced, "I'm hungry," as though she'd not just mentioned the possibility. If he couldn't feed one appetite, he'd at least feed another. His

self-control was straining just being there in that room, that room with that bed, that

room where they would, indeed, spend the night if the blasted night ever came.  He wanted

to please her, to let her have her way in this, but it was hard on him, much harder than

she seemed to realize and he knew he needed to get out of the bedroom.  It had been a long

time now since the actual wedding had taken place and he wanted her so badly it had

become an ache inside him.  He forced a smile, not wanting her to know how he was

feeling. "You go ahead and take your shower, Sweetheart. I may just go on downstairs

and wait for you there."

She looked up at him, feeling monstrous.  Then, she nodded briefly and before turning

away, kissed him once more.  "I promise I'll make it up to you," she whispered, and

then disappeared into the bathroom.

He stood there a moment, looking at the closed door of the bathroom.  "Damn," he said

softly under his breath, then went down the stairs to the great room and stood again by

the window there, leaning his forehead against it, not looking at the view.

Margaret saw him there, looking very alone, and came up beside him. "Everything ok,

Mr. Wells?"

He turned and rubbed a hand across his forehead as he said, "Just a very long trip,

Ma'am.  Came all the way from the Czech Republik."

"My goodness!" she replied. "Whatever were you doing there?"

"Spent some time in an old castle," he half-smiled, "then got married...yesterday...day before...I'm afraid my times are all mixed up at the moment."

"Have you been out West before?"

"Oh, yes, Ma'am.  I grew up in Arizona.  Spent most of my life there.  Always wanted to

see Montana, though."  His eyes turned back to the window.  "Are there horses around

here a man can ride?"

"Not right here at the inn, I'm afraid, Mr. Wells, but there are any number of ranches

that provide them for trail rides.  I'll be sure you get some information about that if you

like." 

"Thanks, Ma'am. I'd appreciate that."  He looked around the room, hoping to spy a

basket of nuts or something he could snack on while he waited.  His belly was rumbling, completely empty.

She seemed to realize what he was looking for and pointed to a table with a large ceramic

jar on it.  "Endless cookie jar," she smiled.  "Keep it filled myself.  Take a gander and see

if there's anything you like."

He picked the jar up and sat on the large greenish leather couch. When Rachel came down

the steps, she found him there with it in his lap, a smear of chocolate chip still on his lower

lip.

He didn’t see her at first, so she got to see a rather an unconscious boyishness to his

demeanor as he sat on the couch and reached into the jar for another cookie.  She sat

down next to him and reached for one herself, pausing a moment to wipe the chocolate

from his mouth.  The cookies were incredibly good; probably because of the mountain air

and the fact that she was close to starving.  The time had read near noon when she came

down, so when Margaret walked back into the main room, Rachel nearly pounced on her.

“I’m serving sandwiches and chips in about fifteen minutes,” the manager told them. “Most

of our guests are usually out the door and on their own adventures by this time of day, but

I know you had a long overnight flight and haven’t had time to get situated, so there’s

something in the dining room for you.”

Although the dining room was a lovely set up, she wanted to get outside and suggested a

picnic of sorts with their sandwiches, chips, and lemonade, so they borrowed a rough

blanket from Margaret and walked outside to find a place where they could eat and enjoy

the day.  The stranger at the airport had been correct: it had warmed up, but not enough

to wear anything briefer than jeans and a sweater. 

They chose a spot down the slope from the hotel where the woods that embraced the

building opened up to the valley that opened out before them, spreading out the blanket

between two large trees.

“I’m glad we came out here.  I was beginning to feel really cramped, even with all those

lovely windows.  Feels good to feel the sun and wind on your face,” she said between

mouthfuls. 

Just being outside, being fed something more substantial than cookies, perked him up considerably.  Though, he had to admit, the cookies had been marvelous, reminding him

of fresh-baked ones his grandmother used to make, though she didn't have chocolate

chips, of course.  The sandwiches were wonderful, sliced ham, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes

between thick whole-grain bread.  But the things Rachel called chips?  He held one up

between thumb and forefinger.  "What are these made out of?"

“Potatoes.  Deep fried ‘til they’re crisp.  Try one.  They’re addictive,” Rachel grinned. 

“Any thoughts on where you’d like to go next?”

“Potatoes?  These are...potatoes?"  He bit into one, which crumbled a bit. But he liked

the taste.  "Go next?" he repeated after he'd swallowed.  "How ‘bout that stream at the

bottom of the slope?  I think walking a bit sounds good after all that sitting on the plane."

“Perfect!”  When they finished, she ran the blanket back up to the main house, and set

out further down the slope to the stream Cort had pointed out. 

The air in the meadow between the hotel and the stream was bright and green, smelling of

sage and wildflowers.  It turned a deeper, mustier green as they got closer to the water, and

they could hear the sound of water over river stone.  They held hands most the way down,

but when Rachel saw the stream, began to pull ahead until she was practically running

toward a log that had fallen on the bank, a perfect seat for contemplation.  She had one

shoe off and was pulling off the other one by the time Cort reached her.

Scootching to the end of the log, she held her feet up and wiggled her toes.

“I’m gonna dangle my feet for a bit!”  She told him, and did so.  Split seconds later, she

yanked her feet back with a yelp.  “Ow!  That’s cold!”

"It's snowmelt from the mountains," Cort explained.  "Not sure even Father Pavel

could manage to splash his feet and sing in this water."  He sat beside her, pulling up a

long grass stem and munching on its end, enjoying the sunlight on his face.

A moment later he tipped his head down, his hair swinging forward, casting a covert look

at Rachel.  He'd not bring up again what was on his mind, not until she was ready, but it

didn't stop him from thinking about it.  The sunlight, the brisk air, the openness of the

country they were in, all combined to make him feel better than he had in a long while. He

knelt in front of her, drying her feet with the bottom of his sweater, then slid her socks

back slowly on, trying not to let his hands linger on her ankles, her lower calves.  When her

feet were fully clad again, he stood, holding out his hand.  "Let's see what's down that way,"

he said, pointing downstream.

She took his hand, a lump in her throat because of the look he gave her while he patted her

feet dry and helped put her socks and shoes on.  Something in his gesture told her he was

holding back, his fingers sensual and light; holding back because she had been holding him

at arms length.  His eyes, however, said he would not just go along with her, but make a

game out of it.  He knew how to weaken her.  How long would she last?

They followed the bank of the stream, picking their way through tall grasses and

rambling vines.  Rampant beauty, everywhere, and a songbird she didn’t recognize

somewhere high in the canopy.  She wondered if mockingbirds made it as far north as

Montana.

“I like this,” she finally said, thinking about the way the sun turned his hair a deep bronze whenever they stepped out from the dappled shade, how the light made his pupils smaller

so that the green of his eyes was brighter.  “I like being with you.”

"Good thing," he said, one corner of his mouth crinkling up. "I intend to be very with

you."

“So do you think we might get a couple of horses tomorrow?”  Rachel asked after several minutes, trying to think of safe topics to broach.  Memories of a moonlit walk through

similar surroundings were coming back to her.  They had stopped again where the

bank sloughed into a gulley of large boulders where they had to climb to proceed.  There

was an especially large boulder under the shade of a tree that gave them a perfect view

of the stream as it continued its meander to whatever destination time had carved for it. 

“I need a bit of a rest,” she said, sitting down on the top of the boulder.

He squatted beside her, looking down at the stream.  "I think that would be a good idea,"

he agreed.  "Horses tomorrow. I saw a map of trails near the desk of the inn.  Looks like

a lot of places where it shouldn't be too hard for you to ride.  We'll start you off nice n'

easy at first, work you up to more strenuous sorts later."  He turned his head to gaze at

her, his eyes completely innocent.

“And,” she went on, hugging her knees close to her chest.  “The day after that the museum?” 

It was beginning to occur to her that it wasn’t just that he was feeling better after all that

had happened in Hromada, or with the uneasy plane ride; Cort was beginning to show

signs of being in his natural element…and it was tantalizing.  Confidence was returning to

his step and his natural grace seemed to expand the more they were out in the woods.  She reached up and nudged him to sit beside her.  “Would you like…to do that?”

"Hmmm?" he said absently. "Do what?"  There were a lot of things he wanted to do, but

she hadn't actually named what was at the top of his list yet.

“Go to the museum?”

"Why would I want to do that?"

“To…see things,” Rachel stammered.  Cort’s gaze was traveling to her mouth and then

back to her eyes, distracted by more internal concerns.  “To learn about the history of

Montana and such,” she added, trying to reassert her own focus on mundane subjects. 

She had to be the cruelest bride on the face of the earth, she thought, but her sense of

romance rebelled against a quickie in the plane or lounging about in a bed in the middle

of the day, especially when she had gone to great pains to get certain items.  Stubbornly,

she met his gaze.  “And there’s a special traveling exhibit there that I will kick myself if

I don’t try and see before we leave Montana.”

It was when she said, "before we leave Montana," that she jerked him, probably

unintentionally, back to some sort of reality of their life. "What will we do, Rachel,

then? What can I do to earn a living if I can't warp any more? I won't be of any use to

Terry. Especially not to Sid.  I...wish...."

It was a synchronous thought, actually, because as the words left her mouth, all the past

they had been through clunked right in front of them.  They had been so caught up in the orchestration of a wedding they didn’t have much time or concern about what would

happen after, when all had settled.  She took Cort’s hand and held it between her own two. 

This was what her father meant by tunnel vision, and the poor man had been trying to get

her to see that…

“No more NanoCorp.  I think Terry knows that.  Deidre told me more details of what had happened while I…while we were gone, but I think it’s a foregone conclusion that she and

Terry will do everything in their power to keep Sid under tight reins.  As for what we

will do, well…” She was blinking back tears, thinking of what work she had put in at

NanoCorp, of how utterly at mercy Cort still was to fate and fortune.  “There’s got to be something we can find…”

"Isn't there some saying about a fish out of water?" he whispered.  "Former bankrobber

turned preacher seeks employment. All the skills of the 1880's at his command."  He

sighed, rubbing his hand over his eyes, then looking at her. "What sort of husband have

you taken on, Mrs. Wells?"

“A beautiful one, a loving one, a totally male one who will die to keep me safe,”

Rachel whispered back, placing her palms on either side of his face.  “You have so much

to offer!  We’re just going to have to work together to find something.  And there’s

something about Montana that makes me think you’ll find it here.  But if not, then you

and I will go elsewhere.  Wherever you go, I will go.  Don’t forget that!  I’m glad to be

married to you!”

"Good," he said softly, pulling her into his arms.  "Because you're stuck with me."  Then

it hit him what she'd said.  "Montana?  You'd be willing to settle...here?"

Was she?  A small part of her was actually a bit lost by the idea of living in a state so far

from what she had known...but then, Cort had lost so much of what he had known...she

sighed and pulled him closer, wondering why she had been spending the whole day trying

to keep from his embrace.  She could easily imagine Cort finding something to do - and he'd

do it well.  It was herself she wasn't so sure about.  "If this is where you want to be, then

I want to be with you," she told him.

"I'm not sure where I want to be. It's not...easy.  Sometimes all I want is to be able to pick

you up and take you back with me to Arizona 125 years ago. I just didn't...fit...in that place...Emerald City...just didn't fit. But at least," he continued, "I knew that I wasn't

staying there, that I was going to the Roman Empire and just knowing that made being

at NanoCorp a bit better...knowing I was leaving, leaving with you." He kissed her lightly.

"Then there I was at the castle and it was, well, like it was.  But there wasn't really any

time or need to think about what I'd do...next.  Not like now.  And all I want to do is make

love to you and never stop," he kissed her hair, "never stop...but it's all hanging out there

...that 'next'....what do I do next?  How do I provide for you as a man should be able to do?  How...?"

“I know, I know,” Rachel replied, nodding as he spoke of Emerald City.  “I won’t miss NanoCorp.  Just my friends.  But we don’t need a modern glass building to get together. 

All I can think, though, is to take it one day at a time.  When I started at NanoCorp, I

was a mere project assistant.  Terry and I struck up a good rapport and one thing led

to another…I got included in a special project.  The rest is history.  But the last thing I

ever thought when I graduated college was that I would end up traveling time and space

and half the world away to be with someone I love.  I thought I was going to end up as a

nurse in a hospital somewhere!  And I have to tell you, sweetheart, that’s the way it is for

a lot of people.  They start out doing one thing and years later, after taking opportunities

and chances and risks, they find themselves doing things they never thought themselves

capable of.  That’s what I’m hoping for,” she concluded, realizing it made her head hurt

to try and see into the future.  “You’ll find a way.  I know you will.”

"Speaking of finding ways," he said, looking at the lengthening shadows of the big

evergreen, "perhaps we'd better be starting back now. Might not be good to be out here

after dark."  He nibbled her ear affectionately. "Not with the wolves and the bears and

the cougars...and...," he nibbled some more, "me."

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