© 2025 Duleigh Lawrence-Townshend. All rights reserved. The author asserts the right to be identified as the author of this story for all portions. All characters are original. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental. This story or any part thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the expressed written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review or commentary.

This is an all-new addition to the Stormwatch series. If you haven't read Stormwatch Chapter 1, through Stormwatch Chapter 7, please take this chance first. All chapters are listed in the correct reading order in the Stormwatch Series List. Chapters one and two are updates to existing chapters with 50% new material in each, and a corrected timeline. Chapters 3, through 7, are all new and hopefully they rekindle the joy of the series and expand on the story.

In Chapter 8 we take a step back in time to explore a character that's been mentioned in Andi's Dream several times, and his contribution to the Andi-verse is quite significant, especially where John and Macy are concerned.

For comments, questions, or merchandise, please contact the author.

Stormwatch Chapter 08

A Soul Forgotten

Dennis Howe had dual US - French citizenship thanks to his mother, Solène, who was the Washington reporter for the AFP (Agence France-Presse) the huge French cooperative news agency. His father, Gillford, was a senior aide for the new senator of New Hampshire, Alvin Kroc, and they sent Dennis to the finest schools in the United States, Belgium, and France. They gave Dennis everything a growing boy could want except for love and a home. A child merely impeded their lifestyle of never-ending Washington cocktail parties and fancy dinners with the rich and powerful, so they shipped him out at the age of eight, to live with relatives in France. Instead of drying his tears and reminding him they loved him, his mother said, "Arrête de pleurnicher!" (Stop your sniveling)

For his 18th birthday, Senator Kroc presented Dennis with a nomination to the USAF Academy, where he excelled in all sports and athletics. He was the star center for the Air Force Falcons hockey team, but what he wanted to do was fly. He majored in Aerospace Engineering at the academy; he had perfect vision, and he was five foot eight inches tall - the perfect height for a fighter pilot. At five-eight, there was no cockpit too small for him. He passed the Fighter Aircrew Conditioning Test and then went on to training. The academics were a breeze. He was smart, and he was handsome, but he didn't understand love because he was never given any. But that was okay. There was no woman clinging to him to hamper his training.

He made it to Seymore Johnson AFB, where he became an Eagle Driver. Even at its advanced age, the F-15 was still the premier fighter aircraft in the world. And getting his foot in the door meant he had a leg up to fly the F-15E, the world's second-best close support aircraft, and that would lead to the new F-15EX Eagle II. He could fly the wings off an eagle. His bombing scores were the best, and nobody could beat him 1v1 in the air. He was looking at advancement in a big way. He knew that the set of orders sending him to Okinawa would ensure his advancement in the fighter world.

When he arrived at Okinawa and walked into the commander's office, there was a woman in a flight suit standing next to the commander's desk. "Lieutenant Howe, this is Captain Ruskin, callsign Foxy, she will be your flight lead. I have heard some incredible things about you Dennis," said Colonel McGuire. "Let's see if you can meet my expectations. You do that by following Melony."

Dennis looked at Melony. She was beautiful, a voluptuous redhead that did things to a flight suit that sixteen-year-old boys could only dream about. And she was scowling at him. "Flight brief is tomorrow at thirteen hundred. For your initial we will do an area profile mission with GPS off. You will navigate. If you get me lost I will make sure that you walk home. Mission data is in the vault."

"Yes ma'am," said Dennis. As the commander finished his briefing on their expectations of him as a pilot in the 44th Fighter Squadron, Dennis fought to keep his eyes off the curvaceous, beautiful redhead standing just to his right.

After the commander dismissed him, Dennis went right to the vault and began reviewing the mission notes. "Lieutenant, are you complete with your in-processing?"

"I have a physical with the flight surgeon, Doctor Jar-e-key or something like that."

"He's not our flight surgeon, he's with the 67th," said Melony. "Make sure you have all fingers, toes, and nuts when he's done with you," said Melony as she headed out. "See you at the preflight briefing."

Dennis studied the local area maps until he was sure he had the flight route memorized, then headed off to the hospital for a routine examination. "Jeez doc, what did you do to piss off my flight lead?"

"Who is your flight lead?" asked the doctor as he shined an otoscope in Dennis's eyes.

"Captain Ruskin."

"Oh yeah, her. She's pretty easy to piss off. Open wide and say aah."

When the tongue depressor was taken from his mouth, Dennis asked, "What did you do to piss her off?"

"I married her," said Dr. Paul Jarecki.

"You're a funny guy doc," said Dennis as Paul initialed Dennis's in-processing checklist. Then Dennis headed back to the dorm, where he could write out his flight plan, free from silly remarks from wise-ass doctors.

The next day, he followed Melony out to the flight line. Their planes were parked six spots away from each other, but he could see her get out of the dispatch truck. Her ass did things to a flight suit that stopped time for Dennis. From a distance, he watched her climb the ladder to the cockpit in slow motion. That round, beautiful ass was hypnotic as she climbed up the ladder. Dennis was flying the F-15D, a two-seat version of the F-15C. He had more fuel and a passenger, so the plane was heavier and a bit more sluggish, but he was flying on her wing and he was sure he would have no problem.

His passenger for this hop was the squadron director of operations, the second most senior pilot, and he was going to check out Dennis' performance. Getting in, strapping in, starting engines, and pre-flight checks were all the same as the scores of missions that he flew back stateside. There, from far away, Dennis saw Melony nod her head, so he closed his canopy in time with hers and flashed his landing lights quickly to tell the crew chief it was time for him to leave. The crew chief waved Dennis out and gave him a sharp salute that Dennis returned with pride, and they were taxiing. He followed Melony through the simple maze of taxiways out to the end of the runway, where the weapons troops armed up their pylons. All they were carrying external was fuel, but they still needed to arm the pylons in case they had to eject the fuel tanks.

Finally flying, Melony said, "Vampire two, where are we going?"

"Continue at four five zero knots. In three zero seconds turn left to heading two seven zero."

"Vampire Lead copies." And that's how the mission went. Turns, altitude changes, and speed changes were all spot on. Melony had her GPS on so she could double-check him, and if Dennis was cheating somehow, she was sure that Major Flynn, who was riding in the rear seat of Lt. Howe's D model, would tell her.

"Vampire lead, vampire two, we've got two bogies inbound. IFF shows they are F-18s from the Big Stick."

Melony was happy that Dennis knew that the USS Theodore Roosevelt was nicknamed the Big Stick. Just knowing that proved he wasn't dumb. "They are the bad guys. Vampire Lead is going in."

"Vampire Two follows."

What followed was the most aggressive 'furball' that Dennis had ever seen. Compared to this fight, air to air combat training back stateside was genteel, almost kind, unless you were flying Red Flag at Nellis AFB. Foxy was out for blood, and she got it, scoring kills on both F-18's. He was exhausted after the high-speed maneuvering, and he reveled in the challenge of staying on Red's wing.

Finally, with the flight over, all four aircraft formed up in one formation and did a flyby over the USS Theodore Roosevelt. "Ok, Vampire Two, take us home," said Melony.

"I, uh... stand by..." The urge to flip on the GPS was overpowering. He got out his notes and maps and looked around... there! That cluster of islands on their right had to be Miyakojima, and there to the left, a single, almost perfectly round island that had to be Tarama-jima. "Turn right heading zero four five degrees, we're 178 miles out."

"Roger," came Melony's voice. "Call Naha tower to get us in the pattern when we're close enough."

It was a successful mission. Melony was highly pleased with Dennis Howe's navigation and his ability to stick with his leader in the tightest of dogfights. Eventually, after three missions together, they were "married" and became permanent flight lead/wingman. "Come over to my place for dinner tonight," said Melony. "We're having roast beef."

"Yes Ma'am!" He knew she was married. He saw the rings, but what happens when you're deployed overseas, stays deployed overseas, right?

Dennis showed up with a passable bottle of French Bourdeau. He didn't want to appear a wine snob, but when you're raised in France and Belgium, it comes with the territory. Captain Ruskin had a really nice apartment at the edge of the base, and it looked like it was built with an American in mind. It was filled with Western furniture and amenities. "Come on in," said Melony, as she met him at the door in a silk robe. "The only Japanese custom we keep is to kick your shoes off at the entrance."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"It's Melony here, or Mel, or Red," said Melony. She was wearing a hand-painted silk kimono robe. Not exactly a kimono, not exactly a bathrobe. It made a light, comfortable dress to wear around the house. "And you've already met my husband..."

Dennis didn't want to hear the word husband, but he knew it was inevitable. He saw her wedding rings; he realized he was in base housing, which was only for married people. "Doctor Jarecki," he gasped.

"Hello Dennis," said Paul with a chuckle as he came into the living room from the kitchen.

"I thought you were yanking my chain when you said you were married to my flight lead."

"I learned the hard way that lying to a fighter pilot is not a plan for success. Welcome. I hear great things about you."

"Sir?"

"Paul," corrected the doctor. "Call me Paul, this is a rank free zone. If you're uncomfortable calling her Melony, then use her call sign. What is your callsign?"

"Menace," sighed Dennis.

"From what Melony said, it matches your flying. She said she'd never want to be in a MIG if you were in the air."

"She's such a sweet talker. You're cooking?"

"You don't want to try Melony's cooking," said Paul. "It's more revenge than nutrition."

"That's kind of how she flies too," said Dennis. Paul chuckled and turned to give Dennis a fist bump.

"I hear she went and got you lost over the sea of Japan just to see if you can guess how to come home," said Paul.

"Lucky for me, I'm a pretty good guesser."

As Paul and Dennis got acquainted in the kitchen, Melony watched from the doorway, and soon they were seated at the table. They joined hands to say grace, and a trio was born that day, a trio of love, friendship, and mutual support. Shopping trips downtown, snorkeling, kayaking, lazing on the beach. It's not unusual for a wingman and flight leader to become close friends, but it's pretty rare when your flight lead looks so damn good in a bikini.

Dennis tried to teach Paul tennis, but Paul called it an elitist game. Dennis was good, damn good, and he entered a contest and became the Kadena Air Base tennis champion. Of course, Paul and Melony were there for every match he played. Paul preferred racquetball for several reasons, but primarily, it's air conditioned.

Then came that awful day... Melony and Dennis were on temporary duty to Kunsan Air Base in Korea. They flew with and against the F-16s, and the little fighters of the 80th and 35th fighter squadrons made a good showing of themselves. The F-15 fliers of the 44th Fighter Squadron were going home with "Pipper Burns all over the back of their helmets" (meaning they were 'shot down' in mock combat) They had been to karaoke at the club their last night there and Melony got trashed which shocked Dennis. He had never seen her get that drunk, and she had only had a few drinks.

She wasn't feeling good, but she wanted to get back to Okinawa and Paul. They were planning to start a family. She wanted to return stateside pregnant. There was nothing he could do to get her to go to sick call. That bastard Lieutenant Colonel Abernathy "Buzz" Blecher, the detachment commander, kept getting in between him and Melony so they couldn't talk. He had gotten her drunk on soju, a Korean liquor, and then guided her back to VOQ the night before.

Their six-ship formation swung onto the runway with Melony leading Dennis as always. The last words he ever heard her say were, "Talon 3 copies, I have the lead." They swung onto the runway, the second of three pairs. Talons 1 and 2 started their takeoff rolls. Talons 3, 4, 5, and 6 were going to return to Kadina in a four-ship formation with Foxy leading and Menace navigating. But something happened. Just after the tower gave them clearance to take off, Melony shut down her engines.

"Talon 3 this is Talon 4," called Dennis. "Foxy this is Menace, come on Fox, talk to me." But she didn't answer. Dennis pulled up alongside Melony and saw her slumped over in the cockpit, her straps holding her up. "KUNSAN TOWER THIS IS TALON FOUR, GROUND EMERGENCY! GROUND EMERGENCY! TALON THREE IS NOT RESPONSIVE! REPEAT TALON THREE IS NOT CONSCIOUS!"

"Talons 4, 5 and 6, clear the runway to allow support," called the tower.

Dennis taxied slowly past Melony, but Colonel Blecher ordered, "Get off the ground, Talon 4. You're flight lead now."

"Sir, I have to stay with..."

"Get off the ground now, damn it!"

In response, Dennis shoved his throttles forward and shot down the runway. He was six plane lengths past Melony when he called on the radio. "Watch me Foxy... watch this." With tears of anger in his eyes, he lifted the landing gear just as he felt the wheels leave the pavement. Now cleaned up and flying at an altitude of ten feet, he gained a tremendous amount of speed. When he got to the end of the runway, he yanked back on the stick and put his plane into a vertical climb. He lit the afterburners and zoomed straight up into the air like a rocket. He continued his insane climb until he reached an altitude of 30,000 feet, then did a lazy roll over onto his back and he reached level flight at 35,000 feet.

"HOWE! If you pull a stunt like that again I will ground you until Christ returns!" shouted Buzz Blecher.

"That's funny hearing someone like you speak about Christ," replied Dennis.

"Talon flight, this is Talon five, I now have the lead, Talon four, take my left wing and navigate and you get us lost I will personally fuck you," snarled Colonel Blecher.

"Whatever you say, dad." Dennis wasn't a praying man, but he began praying that Melony was okay, that it was just a hangover or a stomach flu from all the soju she drank. As he prayed, he could hear Melony whispering to him. It sounded like she said Swans. Shit! There was a standing Notice To Air Men (NOTAM) regarding Bewick's Swan Migration between China and the southern islands of Japan. "Talon Flight Talon Four, we need to descend to twenty thousand feet."

"Lieutenant this is the optimal altitude for fuel efficient flight."

"Sir, there is a standing NOTAM on migratory bird patterns this time of...

"Lieutenant SHUT IT!"

Dennis took out a small notebook and recorded the conversation and the time, but he needed confirmation. "Sir, did you say shut it or stuff it? For the record..."

"Lieutenant Howe, you can say goodbye to your career when we get back to Kadina."

Dennis had already decided that his career was over. He would never meet a flight lead like Foxy again. He saw no reason to listen to this blithering ass. He did a single sweep with the AN/APG-70 radar and saw a rain cloud on his radar at the same altitude. Looking ahead, Dennis saw that the sky ahead was clear. That meant one thing. "TALON FLIGHT! DESCEND TO ANGELS TWO ZERO!"

"What is it now Lieutenant?"

"Migratory birds, a flock just ahead of us."

"Stay in formation lieutenant and we will discuss this..."

Dennis didn't hear what he said because of all the alarms that went off when two large Bewick's Swans slammed into him. Master caution lights glared at him. His 'glass cockpit' became a flying error message. Engine number one died, and engine number two wasn't feeling healthy. He extended the Ram Air Turbine generator before he lost engine number two. "Ok Foxy, we still have power," muttered Dennis. "When I get home, I'll tell Paul everything, so he won't worry." Dennis didn't know he was talking into an open mike. A short in a radio circuit kept his mike open as his Eagle continued to fall apart.

With a bang, engine number two shut down. Dennis was now flying the most expensive glider known to man, but he still had power and flight controls because he had deployed his RAT. He wasn't sure what direction he was headed, but it was a clear day, and he could see the horizon. That helped him keep the wings level and the nose up-ish. The nose of his plane looked odd. Did a bird hit the radome and take it off?

He continued to reset circuit breakers until he believed he had the electrical issues figured out. Now... fuel pump on, battery power on, engine number one start pressed and... every fire warning light he had ever seen in the cockpit lit up bright as day. Alarms screeched in his earphones. Then he lost hydraulic power, and he no longer had flight controls. He said calmly into his mike, "MAYDAY, MAYDAY, MAYDAY, Talon 4 with bird strike. Two engines out, ship on fire, can't keep it level. Punching out."

As he finished his emergency call, his Ram Air Turbine seized up from an overheated bearing, and he lost everything but the remaining battery power, and his Eagle began the long dive into the Sea of Japan. "BUZZ, YOU FUCKING BASTARD, YOU KILLED ME TOO!" screamed Dennis, and he pulled the ejection handles.

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"I miss you Nicca," said Josh. "I'm dying of loneliness."

"I've been gone two days, Ephie. We haven't even started the main meeting," said Veronica.

"Is it snowing there?" asked Josh.

"No, Manhattan is cloudy but kind of warm, how about you?"

"Huge snowstorm," said Josh sadly. "We should be at the cabin with a warm fire, a length of silk rope and your boyfriend Bob."

"So, you want to trap me in an isolated cabin, tie me up, shove a vibrator in my coochie, and do what? Find a way to get your tally whacker in me somewhere else?" Veronica demanded.

"Well... yeah!" said Josh brightly.

"I'm glad I brought Bob with me," said Veronica softly. "You'll have me dreaming about that all night long."

Changing the subject, he said, "After I dropped you off at the airport, they started talking about a lake effect blizzard, so I went to the cabin and put the sled in the back of my truck and brought it home. I'll probably buzz over to Paul and Andi's place later and mooch dinner off of them."

"You let them be. There's plenty for you to eat in the freezer downstairs. Why don't you work on daddy's apartment?"

"Me an' hammers are a dangerous combination."

"I trust you."

"You are a brave woman Veronica von Köster."

"And you are a wonderful man Ephraim Joshua Gravely."

After they said their goodbyes, Josh sighed and turned on the radio and went downstairs. The apartment was coming along nicely, and it was time to put up drywall. He could do drywall, but he was horrible with outlets and switch boxes. However, Gus had given him some hints and tricks on measuring the drywall, cutting the holes for the outlets and switch boxes, and screwing the drywall into place. Josh spent far too much time at it, but when he was done, he had the new bedroom complete. He proudly sent photos to Veronica, who was at an IPO meeting with investors in Manhattan.

Then his phone rang, and it was John. "Hey buddy, do you have your sled in town?"

"Sure do, what's up."

"Can you swing by Paul's and pick up some stuff and bring it out to Bertrand Chafee?"

"What's going on?"

"The girls are in labor, and we didn't have room to bring their bags with us. Andi's mom Heather and Yi have the bags ready; can you pick them up and bring them here?"

"Wait... BOTH girls?"

"Yep."

"You guys don't do anything in a small way, do ya?"

"Nope."

"How did you get there?"

"Paul had his snow coach trailer with full hood, so we put the girls in the trailer, he and I got on the sled, and he drove us here."

"Y'all bat shit crazy," said Josh, forgetting he was talking to his pastor.

"Pardon?" demanded John.

"You heard me. Tell me I ain't wrong."

"You ain't wrong. Gotta go; Macy needs me."

"I'll be right there." Josh dashed up to the mudroom and pulled on his one-piece snowmobile suit. What else? Boots, gloves, helmet, cigars... no, the cigars will be later. Josh stepped outside into a different world than he's used to. The snow was cascading down from the sky, driven by 30 mph winds with gusts exceeding 60 mph. The temp wasn't cold, maybe 28 degrees, but Josh had been stationed in North Dakota at one time. When you're used to twenty-eight below zero, twenty-eight above zero was T-shirt weather up there. The snowmobile started easily enough, and with a "Let's go Blue!" Josh shot out of his driveway and zipped two blocks to Josh and Andi's house. He almost forgot about Paul's waist-high iron fence around the front lawn, but a flash of lightning illuminated the entire scene, and Josh swerved away from the fence at the last minute. He purred up the driveway as the thunder hit and stopped at the back patio and shut down Blue.

Inside the kitchen, the family was a bundle of nerves. Andi's mom, Heather, wanted to go with Josh, but she was terrified of the storm, especially when Josh walked in with snow plastered all over the front of his body. Yi was going to go, come hell or high water. The twins were in tears. Apparently, Andi had promised them they could be there when Danny was born. "Ok, twinsters, come here," said Josh. "It's really horrible snowy out there," he told the sniffing twins. Then he crouched down and spoke softly, as if he were revealing a secret. "Grandma doesn't know what kind of fun we have on snowy nights."

"Like what?" asked Madeline.

"Well, maybe make a fire in the fireplace, then you turn off all the lights and watch the snow outside and eat snacks. Maybe someone reads from the big story book." The big storybook had been a part of the twins for longer than they'd been around. While she was pregnant with the twins, overworked, exhausted, hungry, Andi Roberts would read a story to her daughters in her womb. "And snacks," continued Josh.

"Like hot chocolate?" asked Sandy.

"And popcorn?" asked Madeline.

"Maybe even s'mores," then he whispered, "I don't think Miss Yi knows how to make them."

"She does! She really does!" and before Josh realized what he had done, the twins were bouncing up and down in front of Yi and Heather in the excitement of their blizzard party.

"SHHHH! It's after midnight!" scolded Heather.

"Thanks Redneck," groaned Yi, who now had the twins clinging on her. "Any chance you can wind them up tighter?"

"Thank you, Josh," said Heather, and she gave Josh a kiss and handed him two suitcases full of Andi and Macy's night clothes, and they added some clothing for Paul and John. "Get Andi's makeup kit off her dresser, please," Heather said to Yi.

Yi dashed up the stairs without a question, but Josh was perplexed. "Makeup?"

"Trust me, after going though natural childbirth, nothing helps the ego more than a touch of makeup," said Heather as she packed a makeup kit that Macy had on the table in the library.

"I'm going to bring back Paul's trailer so the girls can get a look at their baby brother tomorrow," said Josh. With that, he was on his way. He strapped Macy and Andi's bags to the back of Blue, then hopped on and started the big snowmobile with a husky growl. The snow was falling even harder than when Josh arrived, and the tracks he made coming into Paul's driveway were buried by newly fallen snow.

Josh eased out of the driveway and onto Howard Avenue, and, for some reason, he was wondering if he could make a helmet with a rotating red beacon on the top for missions like this. His AC-130 was covered with all kinds of lights for taxiing and flying at night. They even had formation lights for flying in multi-ship formations at night.

He cruised up Howard Avenue slowly because he couldn't tell where he was. The snow was coming down so heavily that he was in the middle of Main Street when he realized he was almost through the intersection and on the village library's lawn. He could barely see the neon beer signs in Worzel's windows; all he could see was a colored glow in the snow. He turned left and had the wind at his back, which was a major help.

It was like trying to navigate inside a ping-pong ball. All was dark white with occasional patches of lighter white where a streetlight added a glow to the falling nightmare. He sped up until the wind felt still. He looked at the speedometer and saw he was doing 30 mph, and hit the brakes. Thirty mile per hour winds meant he was in a blizzard, and cruising at 30 mph blinded by the snow was insane. He was delivering underwear and makeup, not insulin and epi-pens, so he slowed to a crawl.

Time dragged as he crept along Main Street, weaving in and out of stalled cars. The closer he got to the hospital, the more stalled cars he found. Visibility was just a couple of feet and stalled cars filled Main Street. The worst part was not seeing the stalled cars until he almost hit them.

Three times he had to stop and wipe the snow off his headlamp. That was an ordeal because the snow was almost waist deep and he would get stuck. And the snow was so wet and sticky he was constantly wiping his helmet's faceplate. He slowly roared past a big desert-camouflaged armored personnel carrier that was bogged down in the snow as more lightning flashed, accompanied almost immediately by the thunder. The lightning gave him enough illumination to see the entrance to the hospital. He swerved up the entrance driveway to Bertrand Chafee Memorial Hospital and drove up to the door, where he saw Paul's Yamaha snowmobile parked along with the snow coach trailer.

Josh got off the sled and untied the bags and entered the hospital carrying a suitcase in each hand. The wet snow froze to his snowmobile suit and helmet, making him look like a racing snowman. A solitary nurse saw him and chuckled. "You must be The Stig."

Playing along, Josh slowly nodded.

"Looking for the Jareckis?"

Another nod.

"Follow me." She led Josh to the emergency department, then stopped in an empty examination room. "You need to take that wet snow gear off, helmet, gloves and boots too." Josh nodded, set down the cases and took off his boots, snowmobile suit, and other gear. "You can take the helmet off. A newborn's vision is quite poor, so you won't scare them," said the nurse.

"You're all heart, ma'am," said Josh, and the nurse put a hospital smock on him and tied it in the back, then led him to the room next door. In there, Andi was lying on the bed in the room, and she looked completely exhausted, and Paul was in a chair next to her, holding his son. Paul looked at the miracle in his arms with a mixture of awe and wonder. "Hey y'all. I brought your jammies." Then he noticed the infant in Paul's arms. "Already?"

Andi opened her weary eyes and smiled. "Hey love, come look at what we made."

"Love?" Josh was stunned, but Paul just smiled.

"She's pretty doped up now, she's calling everyone love." Paul got up and carefully handed Josh the tiny bundle in his hands.

"No, don't... I've never held one of these."

"It's ok, just support his head..." said Paul, as he handed Josh the tiny boy.

"I'll break him... see? He hates me."

"Relax. There's no child on earth that hates you, he just knows you're scared. I'm going to the men's room then I have to get Andi some coffee."

"Wait! What do I do? What if he wants a snack?" asked a terrified Josh.

"He just ate, relax. Tell him a story."

"What kind of story?" But Paul was gone. Josh looked at the tiny infant in his arms, barely three hours old. The little guy relaxed and started sleeping softly. What am I doing? Why are my eyes filling with tears? It's a baby; they happen every day, everywhere. Then Josh whispered. "Once upon a time there was a crazy guy from Cheektowaga, and he would get these crazy ideas... I think I'll join the Air Force and move somewhere that's easier to spell... I think I'll marry a munchkin that's half my age what already had a pair a girls... I think I'll go buy another car dealership; I haven't bought one in a few weeks... I think I'll leave the child I always wanted to have with a busted up old soldier in the middle of a mental meltdown."

"You're doing fine," said Andi. "Have you seen Macy and John?"

"No, they're next on my list, I brought you your goodie bag so you can put on your frilly nighty and show this little fellow what a pretty momma looks like."

Andi sat her bed up and tried to arrange her hospital pajamas. She was wearing a button-up top that was mostly unbuttoned. "Give me your phone."

"Who are you going to call?"

"I want to take pictures of my son," said Andi. "Hold him up so we can see his face."

"I don't want to wake him," said Josh as he tipped the baby up so Andi could see his scrunched-up little face.

"You should see him when he's awake, he's got Paul's eyes.

"At least he doesn't have the Jarecki nose," said Paul as he returned with coffee.

"Give him time for his features to return, he just got squished," said Andi, as she took photos of Josh holding Daniel Cyryl Jarecki. She sent photos to her phone, Paul's phone, and Veronica's phone. While she did that, Paul took out his phone and took pictures of Andi taking pictures of Josh and Danny, and he sent those to Veronica as well.

"You guys relax, I'm going to take baby Josh for a walk," said Josh.

Andi reared up to scream at him, but Paul said, "don't. The guy is happy."

Josh didn't go far; he went to John and Macy's room, where John was cuddling his new daughter Katarina. "Oh wow," said Josh, stunned. Nobody told him that Macy gave birth as well. He had heard that women can spend days in labor, and he expected to find Andi and Macy in labor and cursing John and Paul.

"Hey Josh. Come see our daughter."

"She's beautiful!" gasped Josh in awe. Katarina truly was beautiful; her features weren't 'squished' like Danny's. "Who's the elder cousin?"

"He is," said John. "Danny's an hour and twelve minutes older than Katarina." As he said that, Josh put Katarina into Josh's free arm, then got out his phone. As Josh marveled over the infants, John flooded Springville with photographs of Josh holding Danny and Katarina.

"She's so cute!" said Josh. "She ain't no bigger than a little bitty milk dud. Is that what I should call you? My lil' Milk Dud?"

John groaned, but Macy finally said, "Tu es un andouille stupide et vide de sens."

Her complaint caused Josh to laugh. He leaned over and whispered to Katarina. "Your momma just called me a silly empty headed sausage. Is she just mean? Or is she an astute judge of character?"

<><><><><>

There was a knock at the door, and Veronica ignored it. Her watch said it was 5:00 AM. She had been up all night preparing for the IPO presentation, but she was constantly interrupted by the barrage of photographs that were blowing up her phone. She was reviewing pictures of the babies that John, Paul, and Andi were sending her. Josh wasn't sending any, because his arms were constantly full of infants. Or he was helping the nurse check the babies, or he was with the daddies changing diapers. She finally called Josh up.

"Hey baby, looks like you're having fun," purred Veronica.

"Yeah, for squeaky little things that don't actually do anything, they're a lot of fun."

"How's the storm?" she asked.

"It's a really good one. You should be here... you know, I just realized we haven't done it on the kitchen table yet."

"Promise me you'll get some sleep. You made a promise to take the twins to the hospital to meet their new brother, and they will not let you forget about that promise, ever."

"Hey," said Josh softly. "Do you think that there's a chance that we can try to make one of these noisy little things?"

"I don't see why not," said Veronica in her most seductive voice. "Except for the part with the wedding ring, I'm all set to go."

"Huh, that thing. Ok, I'll see if I can find one that fits ya. Love ya Nica."

"Love you too Ephie."

There was that knock again. She got up and stumbled through her suite and peered out the peephole. Seeing who it was, she just mumbled, 'fuck it,' and stumbled back to bed. She was almost asleep when the knock came again. "God damn it," she groaned, got up, pulled on sweatpants and an oversized USAF sweatshirt, then pulled on a robe. On her way to the door, she messed up her hair with her fingers.

She checked the peephole, and it was still him. She opened the door and demanded, "What the hell do you want?"

Standing in the hallway were Brandon Mitchell and his bleach-blond, silicone-enhanced wife, Emily. He was wearing blue silk pajama bottoms; she was wearing the matching tops, and only the bottom button was buttoned. She was a pretty woman, but sadly none of it was real. She's had a nose job, chin job and at least one facelift, not to mention a boob job or two and liposuction, all in the effort to look like her daughter. Brandon lifted a bottle of champagne and said, "We're here to party!"

Veronica glared at him. They have an important meeting in five hours, a meeting that would affect the future of their company, but Brandon and Emily were looking for a three-way. They probably lost a bundle at Aqueduct racetrack and the NYC Casino, then came back looking to see if Veronica wants to play fuck toy. Two years ago, she may have considered it, IF they were somebody else... anybody else.

It's not because he's a company officer; Veronica is actually higher on the company organizational chart even considering that she doesn't work for Andalon; she actually works for Anthony and Marj. The issue with Brandon and Emily is Brandon and Emily. The best way to describe Brandon is "eww." If you had to use a word to describe his personality, it would be "greasy." Veronica doesn't want anyone with that kind of personality touching her. He's constantly on the prowl, looking for woman-shaped hunks of meat to vent his libido on. He's not a Buffalo kind of guy; Buffalo men may have their flaws, but for the most part, they're real, and Brandon is a phony. He should be with his kind in Los Angeles or on Long Island.

Emily is either a poor abused creature or she really is what she presents herself to be: a slut. All that plastic surgery in an attempt to look like her eighteen year old daughter Audrey is stupidity, denial, or fantasy. Audrey is cute. She has thick, long blond hair, a very cute face with a cleft chin and tiny nose, large natural breasts, a 21-inch waist and perfect round hips and ass, and it's all natural. Everything that makes up Emily is plastic, including her personality.

Veronica took a deep breath and said, "We have a very important meeting in five hours, our Initial Public Offering will make or break Andalon, and your attendance will determine if we succeed or not." And she closed the door in his face. She waited by the door and he knocked again. She yanked open the door and said, "The next time you come to bother me I'm calling security."

Back in bed, she couldn't sleep. She went over and over her presentation in her mind and she knew it perfectly. However, she had new pictures to review. These were pictures of Paul and Andi with Danny and John, with Katarina. Veronica didn't see any pictures of Macy holding her daughter. The closest was one shot of John with Katarina sitting next to Macy, but Macy was looking away from the baby, like she didn't want the child. Immediately, Veronica shed a tear for Katarina... Veronica knows what a mother's rejection can do to a girl's psyche. She and her sister were hated by their mother, who ran off with the milkman. (Did you expect me to believe that, Dad?)

<><><><><>֍<><><><>

"WAKE UP UNKA JOSH!" cried the twins as they rocked Josh side to side trying to wake him. He had returned early in the morning and had fallen asleep on the couch.

"There's nobody here by that name," mumbled Josh into the pillow.

"Yes there is, it's you!" cried Madeline.

"Get up sleepyhead!" sang Sandy.

"Coffee," mumbled Josh. "No one goes anywhere without coffee." He rolled onto his back hoping to dislodge a twin or two.

Madeline touched her nose to his and her forehead to his. "It's in the kitchen," she said in what she hoped was a spooky-sounding voice. Josh opened his eyes and saw Madeline's bright blue eyes looking straight into his.

"Yah!" he yelped and quickly stood up. He held the twin tight to him so Madeline came up too, her nose still pressed against his. Even with Madeline clinging to his neck and Sandy wrapped around his left leg, he made his way to the kitchen. "You know, I can't see like this," he said as he worked his way into the kitchen.

"I feel sorry for you," said Grandma Heather to Yi. "You now have four children to watch."

"It's not too bad," said Yi. "I can send this one home to Veronica when he gets on my nerves."

"Unka Josh and Aunty Veronica are coming to show and tell with us," said a giggling Sandy, who was now sitting on Josh's foot as he walked.

"Uh huh!" nodded Madeline. "Mister and Missus America!"

"No, girls. That's not how it works," groaned Josh. Somehow, Josh poured a cup of coffee and made his way to the kitchen table, with the twins still clinging to him. He sat down, then unburdened himself of Madeline and sipped his coffee. "Good lord I needed this," he said as he sipped.

"Girls, go get Uncle Josh his breakfast," said Grandma Heather.

"KAY!" the twins shouted and dashed to the stove where a plate of pancakes and bacon was kept warm in a low oven. Madeline put on the big oven mitts and carried the warm plate over to Josh. Sandy brought two kinds of syrup: maple, which John and Paul made last spring, and loganberry, a favorite of western New York and southern Ontario. Loganberry is a combination of several berry flavors and is made into pop, syrup, and features prominently on snow cones.

"Mister and Missus America?" chuckled Heather. "What's that all about?"

Josh waved his fork at her and said, "Nothing. Just something the twins made up."

"Veronica was in the Miss America contest, and Josh got a few ribbons in the military," said Yi.

"See? Total nonsense," said Josh around a mouthful of pancake that he washed down with a sip of coffee.

"What kind of ribbons did you get?" asked Heather.

"Nothing special," said Josh. "Is there any more bacon?"

"So you were just an average GI Joe," said Heather.

"Yeah, that was me. I hung out with Ernie Pyle and everything," said Josh as he poured some loganberry on a corner of his pancakes. He was going back and forth between maple and loganberry.

"Painfully average."

"Yep, just an average guy doing an average job."

"That's what I heard," said Yi as she topped off his coffee. "That's why the American Legion wants to name the local American Legion post after him."

"That's just a rumor."

"That rumor has a date of December first," said Heather as she looked through the Southern Tier Times.

"That's not a real newspaper you're reading, they hand that out for fireplace kindling and birdcage liner," said Josh around a bite of bacon.

"What time did you leave the hospital last night?" asked Yi.

"Around five." He noticed the twins were gone doing something, so he leaned in and said softly. "Look, Macy is having issues; she's rejecting Katarina. She doesn't know how to mother; her folks died when she was young, and she was raised by an old French-Canadian fisherman."

"Oh, the poor thing," sighed Heather.

"Oh no," muttered Yi.

Josh got very quiet and said, "I know what it feels like to be rejected by your parents, I know what it does to a child's head, and if I can't get Macy to accept Katarina, I will take her myself and raise her up properly."

"You can't..." started Heather, but Josh cut her off.

"A child should never have to beg for love. It's disgusting when that happens."

"No!" said Heather. "That's her and John's child. There will be no talk of 'taking' that child anywhere. They'll be back here in a couple of days, and we're going to help them, and we're going to show them how to love their baby."

"If you insist," said Josh. Heather's reaction was exactly what he hoped for.

<><><><><>

The snow was still coming down; it was a heavy flurry, but there was no wind when Josh got everyone situated in the snowmobile. He dug a walkway out to Blue, but the sled and trailer were sitting on top of over two feet of snow, so they had to climb up to get in the trailer. Heather chose to sit in the trailer with the twins because she's never been on a snowmobile and didn't want to wear the heavy motorcycle helmet. So, she put on a lightweight bicycle helmet and climbed in the trailer. Josh then hoisted the twins in with her and zipped up the canvas door.

"Ready Yi?"

"Wait..." she said, and she started fiddling with her phone. "Ok, ready." They got on the snowmobile, and Yi extended her selfie stick. Using her Bluetooth earbuds, she provided a voice track for her epic video. "I'm co-pilot on a Yamaha Sidewinder LT-X and we're going to visit my boss in the hospital. Last night, at the height of a blizzard she went into labor and she was taken to the hospital in the very same trailer you can see behind us..." She gave a play by play describing the buildings they passed and the cars they drove around as they made their way to the hospital.

By the time they got to the abandoned Armored Personnel Carrier, Josh saw the tread marks of a snowcat, a huge snowmobile usually used at ski resorts. The wide tracks of the snowcat were seen skirting around the abandoned cars, and it was clear that the snowcat was coming in and out of the hospital driveway.

Even though the sidewinder was a high-performance sled, Josh was very gentle with the machine. He kept the speed down to about ten mph and was very careful tracking around the cars and trucks that filled Main Street. Finally, they arrived at the hospital, and he could hear the twins shouting, "FASTER!" back in the covered trailer. "Isn't this fun grandma?" cried Madeline.

"It's so cold," said Heather as she held the twins close to her.

"It's fun!" said Sandy. "Mommy goes lots faster!"

"FASTER!" cried Sandy and Madeline.

The snowcat tracks were heavy on the hospital driveway; it was obviously going in and out of the hospital. Josh guessed the snowcat was being used as an ambulance or for running errands.

He pulled up to the main door, and there were several snowmobiles lined up there. Visitors? Staff? It's hard to tell. The best sign was that the snow was lighter now. Josh helped the twins and Heather out of the trailer and led them inside, all the while Yi continued to film her 'epic' YouTube post. "We're entering the hospital now. The halls are strangely quiet; it's as if there was a zombie apocalypse and the local population is now gone. Wait! There's a nurse... or doctor or something."

Josh ignored her and went to the reception desk and checked the do-it-yourself status board. The Jarecki families have been moved down the hall to rooms 109 and 111. "Ok, shhh! Keep quiet you guys."

"I wanna see Danny!" hissed Sandy.

As they neared the hospital room, chattering about The Baby, a nurse said, "You must be the new big sisters!"

Sandy proudly said, "I already am a big sister."

Madeline nodded and said, "She's the old one."

"Two whole minutes older," said Heather.

"It counts!" pouted Sandy, which left the nurse laughing. She led them to room 111, where Andi, Paul, and Danny were waiting. "He's so little!" gasped Sandy.

"Well, what did you expect?" asked Andi.

"Lots bigger," said Madeline.

"Yeah, your tummy was way out to here," said Sandy.

Andi looked at Paul and said, "I'm done with girls, do you think your brother will take them?"

"What?" squeaked the twins.

"Look at Danny, he hasn't said a mean thing to me his entire life."

Josh had stopped at room 109, where Macy was sitting and John was standing in the hall with Lucy. "You ok?" asked Josh.

"Gus is talking to her now, I think she's going to be ok," said Lucy. John stood near the door and listened to Gus speaking to Macy, explaining how it's ok to feel bad, and when Gus called the baby Katarina Romée, Macy was shocked. She didn't realize that Katarina was also named for the woman that saved Macy years ago in Montreal, Romée Beaulieu.

Finally, Gus stepped out of the room, leaving Macy feeling better about Katarina Romée, and John went into the room. Yi came to see the baby, and when she mentioned that, Josh said, "Why don't you and Lucy touch up her makeup, that will make her feel better."

"Yeah," agreed Gus, but he wasn't looking at the girls. There was someone coming down the hallway. When Lucy and Yi stepped into Macy's room, Gus pulled the door shut, and Josh pulled Andi's door shut as Samael Windecker came storming up the hallway.

"Stay back," said Josh quietly. "Let me deal with him. You have a local business to protect." Then he turned to Samael Windecker and said cheerfully, "Mister Mayor. What brings you out this bright and sunny day?"

"I want Jarecki," snarled the mayor.

"Which one?" asked Josh brightly. "We have eight to choose from."

"Don't play wise with me Gravely, I want Jarecki, that rich son of a bitch."

"Sorry. All members of the Jarecki family are occupied. If you would like I could set you up with an appointment to talk with the Jarecki of your choice at a later date."

"I want to see him now."

"Sorry," said Josh, "But I am allowed to represent him as a personal representative. Would you like a formal or an informal meeting?"

"You let him know that I am going to screw him for that snowcat he hired!"

"Would you like that message written, electronic or personal?"

"WHAT?" the mayor screamed. Gus shook his head; the mayor wasn't getting it. Josh was playing with his head, trying to make him mad. Trying to get the arrogant punk to take a swing.

"A handwritten message is done up in beautiful calligraphy. An electronic message is an email that's sure to catch his attention, and personal, is when I..."

"Personal!" demanded Samael Windecker.

"Ok, that will be thirty five dollars for the first ten words, a dollar a word for every word over ten. That's just the basic service. If you want me to sound happy that will cost extra, if you want me to deliver the right message that will..."

"You impudent bastard!" snapped the Mayor, and he took a swing at Josh. Josh expertly grabbed the mayor's wrist and spun him into a chokehold.

"Maybe you should hire me to be your bodyguard," Josh whispered in his ear. "If you hire me to protect you, I guarantee you will never have to worry about me killing you. But if you touch me, if you touch my woman, if you touch our house or our friends I will make sure the last few moments of your life will be spent wishing you hired me to protect you."

"You can't..." squawked the mayor, but Josh interrupted him.

"The only thing keeping you alive right now is that I don't want these babies to celebrate their birthdays on the day you drew your last fucking breath," whispered Josh. "I've killed hundreds of men that were better than you in every way. Men of honor who stood up for their beliefs, with families waiting for them to come home. You? You're barely worth a skid mark on my underwear. Don't give me reason to treat you like it."

Samael Windecker twisted free and jumped away from Josh. "You just made a powerful enemy," said Samael, trying to sound scary. In response, Josh just shrugged.

"Me? Why?" asked Josh, acting completely confused.

"You just threatened to kill me!" the mayor practically shrieked.

"Threaten to kill you! Come on Mayor Windecker, maybe you should take a break. The pressures of office drive a man to see and hear things that aren't there." Josh turned to Gus and shrugged, and Gus returned the shrug. He really didn't hear anything because Josh spoke so quietly that nobody could have heard it other than the mayor.

"You did! You told me to hire you as a bodyguard so you won't kill me!"

"No, that's not right sir. If I asked you to hire me as a bodyguard it would be to get close enough to kill you," said Josh.

"SEE?"

"Sir, I don't do stuff like that. I'm an engineer. I fix networks."

With a strangely girlish squeal, the mayor stormed off...

<><><><><>

They had a good day with the babies, but Josh had to get everybody home, and he had to go feed Tigger and Pancho. Hopefully, the roads would be clear in the morning so he could go to work. He hadn't been in the shop for several days because of the storm, and working remotely was getting boring. When he woke up the next morning, the sun was rising, and as he looked out the window, he saw that all the streets in Springville had been plowed overnight. All except for Second Avenue.

Not all of Second Avenue was blocked by snow, just Josh and Veronica's block.

He quickly called Yi. "Hey darling, have you cleared your driveway?"

"I just finished, why?"

"I was wondering if I could borrow Andi's tractor." Andi's tractor was a John Deere S140 lawn tractor with a 44-inch snowblower. She called it the Baby Deere.

"Sure, come get it."

Twenty minutes later, Josh was purring along on the tractor, blowing the snow off of Second Street. Each pass blew the snow south onto the curb by the park across the street from their house, leaving behind a nice clean street. It will probably be the first storm that the residents didn't have to chisel their way through an enormous pile of snow left by the plow at the end of their driveway.

It took six passes to clear the street, and the only pause that Josh took was when Mrs. Cavanaugh came out and offered him a cup of hot cocoa. He thanked Mrs. Cavanaugh by clearing her sidewalk, then topped off the snow blower with gas and took it back. "You had that a long time," said Yi.

"I had to plow the street," said Josh as he sipped his cocoa.

"Ok, don't tell me," said Yi with a smile. "The babies come home tonight, will Veronica be back?"

"Nope, she'll be home Friday evening.

"Hey, are you going to be here for dinner on Thanksgiving?" asked Yi.

"We wouldn't miss it for the world," said Josh eagerly. Paul loved big celebrations, and Josh loved being part of the enormous family that Paul was building.

"Sunday!" said Yi.

"What about it?"

"The Steelers are playing the Bills next Sunday. Veronica's a Pittsburgh fan isn't she?"

"Yeah, not quite as fanatical as a Bills fan but she still has her terrible towel," said Josh.

"Come on over and watch the game on the big screen."

"We'd love to, but we have plans."

Thirty minutes later, Josh stepped into the Andalon building and headed through the maintenance area into his office. He placed a framed picture on his desk; it was a picture that he had taken some time after the mayor left. Poor guy, he believed that someone was out to get him. Delusional.

Josh looked at the picture and smiled. It was a picture of Andi and Macy sitting side by side holding their babies. He looked at the photograph and smiled. This crazy, crazy summer was over, and it would soon be the holiday season. Singing carols with his quartet and this year, little kids to tease and love, spending the holidays with a woman he loves. He may even put up a tree! No more Josh the Grinch.

<><><><><>֍<><><><><>

Lieutenant Dennis Howe spent three days floating in the Sea of Japan on a tiny inflatable raft. His back was in incredible pain, and it was sheer agony when he tried to wave down distant helicopters. His tiny inflatable raft was unstable; he probably wasn't centered in it, but he was in so much pain he couldn't reorient himself. He found a position that caused less pain and remained in that position. It felt like his ass was hanging off the side of the raft. The occasional large swell in the ocean threatened to spill him into the water, and the pain in his back made staying on the off-balance raft a nightmare of agony.

Sometime on the second day his prayers changed from "Please save me" to "Please end it."

Finally, on the third day, he heard a helicopter from the USS Theodore Roosevelt as it continued its ever-widening sweep. It was looking for the downed flier or enemy submarines, whichever appeared first. For the past three days, the search for Lt. Dennis Howe occupied the attention of every plane in the air and every ship on the ocean. Even the Naha Coast Guard had helicopters in the air.

Little did anyone know, but the position of Dennis's ejection that was reported to the 18th Wing was the position of Dennis's ship when he took a bird strike. He actually flew several hundred miles before finally ejecting. Then, after ejection, Dennis caught wind gusts that blew him ninety degrees from his direction of travel, so he was closer to Okinawa than expected but far south of the planned route.

Dennis knew none of that as he bobbed in the water, salt covering his skin and his lips. It was impossible not to sip a splash or two of seawater when a rogue wave hit, and it was seriously dehydrating him, driving him mad with thirst. He saw the helicopter in the distance and began swinging his infrared glowstick in a circle over his head. The glow stick was only supposed to glow for twelve hours, but he had heard they last longer than that. But who can tell? The glowstick is infrared; the human eye can't see infrared light. He cracked the glow stick a day ago when four F-18s flew overhead, but they didn't see him. It was over a day later, and he did not know whether it was still emitting light, but he had to try.

<><><><><>

"Commander, tactical. I have a weak IR signal in the water bearing zero-three-zero, five miles out."

The pilot and copilot of the SH-60F automatically looked to their right and saw nothing. "Can you ID the signal?" asked the pilot.

"No sir, but if I had to guess I would say it's an IR glowstick."

The co-pilot swiveled their FLIR camera to the right and saw it, a weak infrared beacon spinning in a circle. "Shit," swore the pilot as he studied the image on the screen in front of him. Then he got on the intercom and spoke to all crew members. "Secure from ASW, we have a man in the water. Go to SAR ops. Tactical, get the sonar back aboard and prepare the hoist and collar. Swimmer, get your water wings on."

"Think this is the one?" asked the co-pilot as the two crewmen in the back quickly changed roles from anti-submarine warfare to search and rescue.

"God I hope so, the flier-down NOTAM is three days old and he's still out here somewhere." He switched to the tactical radio. "Rough Rider air, Rough Rider air, this is Bully two four."

"Go ahead Bully two four."

"We have spotted a soul in the water and we have signs of life. Securing from ASW role to investigate."

"God speed Bully Two Four," came the call from a choked-up radio operator. Any time you can rescue a 'soul in the water' that four-word phrase touches something in a sailor's heart. It tells the world 'we give a damn' and it tells the crew members that if they go overboard, someone will be looking for them.

The words 'soul in the water' and 'signs of life' raced through the command structure of the USS Theodore Roosevelt. Any aircraft that was in the air either had to land ASAP or clear the area. The Air Boss demanded a clean air corridor between the flight deck of the Big Stick and the rescue operation. Then the word reached the crew on the flight deck: "they found someone." A new sense of urgency ran through the men and women who daily lived on the edge of a frenzied flying schedule. The deck was ready to accept the SAR mission in record time.

"Dakota flight, Rough Rider air."

"Go ahead Rough Rider."

"Turn heading two eight zero and get directions from Bully Two Four. Give them a hand."

"Bully! Dakota flight turning two eight zero."

<><><><><>

Dennis gave up swinging the IR glowstick on its lanyard. He was too tired, too thirsty, his arm was tired and his back was screaming at him. Then he heard a roar, and he cracked open his eyes and saw two FA-18 "Superbugs" shoot over him then pull up in a steep climb. He watched them shoot straight up into the impossibly blue sky, something Dennis loved to do in his Eagle. He waved to the jets, and when he did, they both began rolling as they climbed, something else Dennis loved to do.

They climbed up to about ten thousand feet and went into a tight orbit over Dennis. He tried to wave to them again, but it was too exhausting.

<><><><><>

"Bully two four, this is Dakota lead, we have eyes on the soul in the water, your passenger looks like a flier and he's anxious to come aboard." The FA-18s continued to orbit above the downed airman and watched over the rescue of their brother warrior. Since they were over 50 miles from the carrier, once the helicopter dropped down to pick up the downed airman, it would be below the horizon, so Dakota flight prepared to relay radio transmissions if needed.

"Thanks, Dakota lead," said the co-pilot of Bully two four. "We are moving into position now."

The pilot of Bully two four was too busy to answer. He was working hard to get his ship as close as possible but not knock the downed flier into the water with the downwash of its blades. As the big Sikorsky settled down to the ocean's surface, the pilot was listening to commands from the hoist operator, who was leaning out, directing the pilot. Unfortunately, nobody realized how unbalanced Dennis's raft was. "He overturned," said the hoist operator, followed by, "swimmer in the water." The swimmer jumped from thirty feet up.

Kicking hard with his Scubapro Jet Fins, the swimmer shot through the water like a bullet. He dashed to Dennis, who was weakly fighting to grab the raft before his soaked uniform and boots pulled him under. The weakened fighter pilot struggled and faded, and his struggle to reach the raft slowed. The swimmer came up behind Dennis and said, "Relax, I got ya buddy. Just let me hold you up."

Suddenly he wasn't alone. He heard words, but he didn't understand what was being said. His ears were filled with a roaring noise, and the waters of the ocean were whipped up in a hurricane. The guy behind him tried to slip a noose over his neck, and Dennis tried to fight him off, but before he knew it, he was being lifted out of the water. He watched the surface of the ocean, his enemy, slip away beneath him, and he tried to shout, "Fuck you! I win!" but he didn't have the energy.

Dennis was pulled into a helicopter and thought, "Cool! I've never been in one of these." A crewmember leaned over him and checked his vital signs. "What's your name lieutenant?" shouted the airman who was checking his vital signs.

Dennis tried to answer, but it just came out, "Haaa..." His mouth and throat were incredibly dry, making speech impossible. Finally, he was able to croak, "Water." An airman held his head up and brought a water bottle to his lips.

"Slow sir, drink slow or you'll puke it all out and you'll have to wash my whirlybird."

Dennis gave him a thumbs up and drank slowly, then he slowly slipped into unconsciousness.

<><><><><>

1LT Dennis Howe, USAF, woke with a bright light being shone into his eye. "Haaa..." his throat was still dry, but he realized he wasn't in the ocean. He looked up at the ceiling, and it was a tangle of pipes and cables, ventilation shafts and ugly light fixtures. Everything was painted a bland industrial gray. The doctor, or nurse, or whatever, moved out of his line of sight.

He tried to turn his head, but he couldn't move his head. He couldn't move his arms or legs... oh no, oh fucking no! Paralyzed! "NOOO!" he rasped, and he fought against the paralysis.

"Lieutenant! Calm down," said a pretty Asian woman, who put her hands on Dennis's shoulders. "Calm down, it's ok."

"That's easy for you to say, you can walk," Dennis rasped.

"I'm pretty sure you can walk too, but there's some spine damage and we don't want you jumping around. We immobilized your arms and legs with straps and we put you in a cervical neck brace until we can get you to port and see an orthopedic surgeon. Here, sip." She had a water bottle with a bent straw, and she put the straw to his lips.

The water tasted like the cleanest nectar possible. Pure, clean, and not a hint of salt. "Doc, how long do I have to wear this thing?" asked Dennis before going back to the straw.

"We're steaming to Okinawa right now. We should be within helo range in thirty six hours."

"My flight lead, Captain Ruskin... something happened and she shut down when we launched. I need to find out what happened."

"I'll make some calls and see what I can find out."

Dennis finally looked at the woman who was holding the water bottle. His angel of mercy was a slim and very pretty Asian navy... officer? Sergeant? He knew nothing about navy ranks; all he knew about the navy was that his Foxy knocked them down every time they came up to play. That and their captains make better money than Air Force captains. "Thank you doctor."

"I'm not a Doctor, I'm just a yeoman."

"What's that?"

"I think in the Air Force you call them admin."

"You're a secretary?" She nodded her head. "And you're monitoring patients?" Again, she nodded. "Where's the doc?"

"He's asleep I'm here to babysit."

"I'm starving, can I get some food?" asked Dennis.

"I think so. All that's available is midnight rats," she said.

"What's that?" asked Dennis, who had not eaten in anything the military would call a chow hall since the academy.

"Breakfast menu."

Dennis felt like he could eat a horse, and right now he wanted a breakfast like they were served at the academy after a hard morning practice with the Falcons hockey team. "An everything omelet, hash browns, SOS on everything, toast, coffee, and OJ."

"One midnight special coming up."

<><><><><>

During his brief stay on the USS Theodore Roosevelt, Lieutenant Howe got to meet the captain of the ship, the entire crew of Bully Two Four, the air crews of Dakota flight that relayed communications, and just about every doctor on the boat. What he didn't get was an update on Melony. He asked everyone to find out about Captain Melony Ruskin. "There's a Colonel Blecher that is concerned about you," said Captain Marks, commanding officer of the Big Stick.

"He's not my flight lead."

"He insists he is," said Captain Marks, but Dennis just closed his eyes and remained silent. "No comment lieutenant?"

"I'm sorry sir... I'm in a lot of pain."

Captain Marks looked at the immobilized flier with concern. Something was going on, and this young man was starting to clam up. "Son, I didn't get to be the head oarsman of this big boat by ignoring my men's problems. Look, I'm navy so there's nothing you could say that I would take offense to if you misspeak, I understand that you're in pain and taking medication and I want you to feel free to talk with me."

"I appreciate that sir, I truly do, but if I start talking you could end up a witness in a court martial."

"Don't worry about what I do with my time," said Captain Marks. "I've been in enough court martials to know that if you're straight you have nothing to worry about."

"I have so many personal feelings mixed up with this that I don't know what's real and what's misplaced anger. I think it would be most appropriate if I spoke with a chaplain first. Do you have a catholic priest on board?"

"I'll have Father Dumont swing by, but wouldn't you prefer a psychologist?"

"Thank you sir, I was raised in France, our priests are our psychologists. Nothing against you, and if Father Dumont says what I have to say has no legal ramifications and you have a free moment after I speak with him, maybe we can talk." Dennis's voice faded as he struggled to find the words that expressed what he was feeling, without revealing any more than he felt safe to talk about.

Captain Marks quickly changed the subject. "How are you being treated?"

"The yeoman in this area was really nice. She ran and got me dinner last night."

The captain smiled and said, "Petty Officer Park, yes, she's an outstanding sailor, one of my best. I'm glad you met her."

Just then, the doctor came in to check Dennis's vital signs and check his IV drips. "We're looking at several compressed lumbar vertebrae and thoracic vertebrae. If you'll look here you'll see fracturing of the T-11, T-12, and L-1 vertebrae..." the doctor showed Dennis an X-ray that was taken after he was brought aboard. Dennis simply studied the X-ray. "Are there any questions?"

"Will there be surgery?" asked Dennis.

"I can't say. An orthopedic surgeon will have to review your condition."

"Thank you," said Dennis, and he leaned back and closed his eyes.

"Are there any other questions?" asked Captain Marks.

"Other than how Captain Ruskin is doing, no, the doctor explained it quite well."

"What is Captain Ruskin to you," asked Captain Marks.

"Remember last year when you sent up two bugs to harass two F-15s? We swatted the bugs then we all buzzed your ship for a photo op."

"I remember that well, that photo is hanging in the ready room of VFA-86, the sidewinders. That was you?"

"That was my first flight with Captain Ruskin. She demanded the best and together we were the best. We're friends, brother and sister. I'm friends with her husband..." Dennis choked up. He was having terrible feelings about this.

"You rest son, I'll go personally check on Captain Ruskin." He stepped into the companionway, where he found Doctor Gilbert. He asked the doctor handling Dennis the top question on his mind. "Doctor, has Lieutenant Howe asked if he was going to fly again?"

"No, he never did. Is it important?"

Captain Marks smiled grimly. This was the doctor's first cruise, and he still had a lot to learn about sailors and airmen. The only difference between Navy and Air Force aviators is the color of their wings. "It's usually the first words out of a downed flier's mouth."

It was late when he was able to return to the sick bay. First Captain Marks stopped in the Radio Room. "Petty Officer Barns, I had requested some information from CINCPACFLEET for Lieutenant Howe, has that come in yet?"

The communications specialist looked in her message log and said, "Yes sir," then she turned to a large four-drawer filing cabinet-style safe and spun the combination dial.

"It's classified?"

"Yes sir," said Petty Officer Barns, and she handed Captain Marks a manila folder with a classified cover sheet.

He opened the folder and read the single-page message that was classified CONFIDENTIAL - FOR OFFICIAL USE ONLY. He read it twice, not believing what he saw. "Fuck," he groaned in a hushed voice. "I'm taking this with me," he said.

"Sign here sir," said Petty Officer Barnes, and she handed the captain a clipboard. The captain signed the log and took possession of the classified document, then headed for the sick bay. In the sick bay, Lieutenant Howe was surrounded by fliers from VFA-154, the Black Knights. Over a year ago, that was the unit that Melony and Dennis engaged on Dennis's introduction flight with Melony.

"Choad?" laughed Dennis. "I shot down someone named Choad? You all know what that means, right?"

"It means dick," laughed Chad "Choad" Hennings.

"I did the world a service on that day," said Dennis as he shook Choad's hand.

"So this Foxy, is she really foxy?" asked one of the Navy fliers.

"Probably the most beautiful woman I've ever met. Her husband is as ugly as a stump, but he's a great guy. We're going to go trout fishing in upstate New York when we get back." Dennis added that remark about Paul to prevent any questions from the navy fliers from asking about any possible sexual hijinks between him and Melony.

"Captain on the deck!" said a flier as Captain Marks entered the sick bay.

"Carry on gentlemen, sometimes a few sea stories are good for the group," said Captain Marks.

"Navy calls them sea stories, Army calls them war stories," said Dennis. "At least the Air Force is honest, we call them lies."

"We need to get going anyhow," said Choad's wingman, Snapper. "Preflight is at oh six hundred."

The fliers said their goodbyes, and Dennis said to Captain Marks, "I hear that I have an early flight tomorrow also."

"Yes, we'll be in helo range of Okinawa by oh eight hundred. We could have sent you on a COD but we don't want to risk further spine injury with a catapult shot."

"I'm sorry to have caused you all this trouble," said Dennis.

"No trouble at all, SAR is a good exercise for my people, I just wish we had found you sooner."

Dennis noticed that the captain wasn't making eye contact. "Is there a problem sir?"

There's only one way to say it, and sugarcoating it would be an insult to a fine flier. He opened the folder to read. "On July seventeenth, US Air Force Captain Melony Ruskin died of a heart attack while trying to launch her F-15 Eagle from Kunsan airbase."

"Oh god... oh god..." gasped Dennis. Somehow he knew she was gone. A shining light had left the world, and everything was dimmer and grayer for that. "Paul... I need to talk to Paul. Could you send a message to Major Paul Jarecki, 67th Fighter Squadron, Kadena Airbase, Okinawa?"

Before answering, Captain Marks looked at the page before him. The paragraph that he had read was preceded by the mark (U) meaning that it wasn't classified. The next paragraph was marked with (C) meaning it was classified Confidential, the lowest level of classification, but it was still classified. "Lieutenant Howe, please... This is..." Then Captain Marks wondered, why is this classified? Why was this sent at all? "Lieutenant Colonel Abernathy Blecher has implicated you in her death and claims you ejected from your aircraft to avoid prosecution."

<><><><><>֍<><><><><>

Veronica got off the plane when it landed at Buffalo International Airport and made her way to the baggage area where she could get her bag and then text Josh to come pick her up. As she stepped out of the main entrance area of Buffalo IAP, the usual crowd of people was there to meet folks that stepped off the plane. There was always a chauffeur waiting and holding up a sign for somebody. She usually ignored them, but then she saw a banner that said, "Mister & Miss America."

The banner was held by Madeline and Sandy Jarecki, and with them was Josh. "What is this?" Veronica gasped as she ran to the little kids.

Josh gave Veronica a sweet kiss, not too passionate or the twins would start screaming "Ewww!" When their lips parted, he said, "Welcome home Nica."

"What's with the sign? Why are the twins here?"

"Cause we missed you!" cried the twins in unison.

"Probably because you're the only adult that hasn't scolded them in the last forty eight hours."

"No, school!" demanded Sandy.

"Oh yes," said Josh. "This is a reminder that we have kindergarten duty on Wednesday. Show and tell. I've already cleared it with Ant and Marg."

"Where's the car?"

"In the garage where its safe."

"Why isn't it here?" asked Veronica.

"Uh... Howard avenue is plowed so I asked Yi and the girls to give me a ride to the airport."

"Really?"

"I could have borrowed Paul's White Whale." The White Whale is the most hated vehicle in Springville, at least among the women. It's a 1975 F-250 with a four-speed manual, four-wheel drive, a full-size four-door cab, and a full size eight foot bed. It was a monster.

"No. That's fine," said Veronica with another kiss.

"I wanna ride the whale! I wanna ride the whale" chanted the twins as they held their Mister & Miss America banner proudly all the way to baggage pickup. They confused a lot of people, but they were cute.

"I thought you said we had a storm," said Veronica as she glanced through the windows. The weather seemed to be typical Western New York late autumn; dark, cloudy, drizzly.

"We did, just not down here. Don't worry, the stadium should be clear and ready for the game on Sunday."

This was the one. Veronica isn't as much of a hometown team fanatic as Andi is with her Broncos, but when the Steelers are on TV, she'll always watch. For his part, Josh liked the Buffalo Bills. He never saw the Atlanta Falcons as his home team because the Jacksonville Jaguars were only thirty miles away, but he didn't like them either. "I have tickets for the game."

"I'm not really interested in sitting in a rainy stadium watching the Bills lose to the Steelers." Then Veronica asked the question that everyone in Western New York asks when they hear the magic words "I have tickets." She leaned over and asked, "Where are they?"

"Section one thirty four, row fifty."

"That's club level," she gasped.

"Under the press box in case it rains."

"Where did you get tickets like that?" gasped the stunning beauty.

"I know a guy. I do him a favor, he does one back."

"Paul?" asked Veronica with a hint of suspicion. "What did you do for Paul?"

"I threatened the mayor with bizarre bodily harm if he bothered Paul and Andi with their new baby. I don't think he wants me campaigning for him anymore."

"That's probably why our street hasn't been plowed," said Veronica as Josh pulled her bag off the baggage carousel.

"You have a point there." Josh let the twins push the wheeled bag to the exit where Yi was waiting for them in the van. "Are you hungry?"

"No, I had a bag of kibble on the plane. Of course I'm hungry. I missed breakfast because of Brandon." The moment she said that, she knew she had made a mistake.

"Oh? What did mister Mitchell do this time?"

"He was just being his jackass self, and I hid in my room avoiding him."

"I'm going to have a word with Mister Mitchell..." snarled Josh as he buckled the twins into their car seats. Then he turned to Yi and said, "You know where we're going."

"Yep," she said with a sigh," and put the van in gear.

Veronica got settled in and realized that Kenny Johnson was sitting in the front passenger seat of Yi's huge van. "Oh, hi Kenny, I didn't see you there."

"Welcome back Miss von Köster. You missed a hell of a storm."

"Are they going to get the skating rink up?" Paul Jarecki erects an ice rink in the Howard Avenue park every winter. It's his way of sprucing up Springville.

"It's up," said Kenny and Josh at the same time.

"They heard the storm was going to hit, so they threw it up while you were gone," said Yi. The lovely Asian governess wheeled into Giardino's Family Italian Restaurant.

"My babies!" cried Mamma Giardino as they entered the restaurant. The small, round woman crouched down and hugged the twins.

"Mamma, mamma, guess what we got!" the twins cried.

"A new baby brother?"

The twins looked stunned. Finally, Madeline said, "You guessed."

"How big is he? Did you hold him?"

"We can only hold him if momma is there and poppa has his camera ready."

"Here, let me show momma," said Josh, and he handed his phone to Momma Giardino so she could see photographs of the first time Sandy and Madeline met their little brother Danny.

"So adorable!" gushed Momma. "Danny! Val! Come see Pauly's baby!"

"But wait, there's more," said Josh, and he flipped the photo, and there was a photo of John and Macy with Katarina.

"Johnny too?" gasped Momma Giardino. She burst into tears and said a prayer of thanks as her son Danny and his wife Valentina came to see what the uproar was all about.

"Way to go Johnny!" cried Danny as he and Valentina looked through the pictures. "What are the babies names?"

"Paul and Andi's boy is named Daniel Cyryl after both of his grandfathers, and John and Macy's baby girl is named Katarina Romée after both of her grandmothers," said Yi.

"Katarina and Cecil," said Mama Giardino, almost crying. She made the sign of the cross and said, "those two angels have guardian angels to watch over them," she said with a sniff.

"What about me? Do I have guardian angels?" asked Sandy.

"I think you wore yours out," said Yi.

Veronica had seen the pictures in Manhattan because Andi and John were sending her all the pictures with Josh in them, and Josh showed her the rest in the van on the way over to Giardinos.

They finally settled in at a table, and Veronica asked, "Why are the girls here and not with their little brother?" The twins suddenly got very quiet.

"They're on a little brother time out," said Yi.

"We were just trying to teach him," said Sandy without looking up.

Yi took out her phone and showed Veronica a photograph of Danny's bassinette. It was filled almost to the brim with stuffed animals and Barbie dolls. Somewhere in the pile, Veronica could pick out the baby's tiny face. The picture set Josh off laughing even harder than the first time he saw it. "Don't laugh at me," mumbled Madeline.

"We just wanted to share!" said Sandy with a pout.

As they passed the phones around, sharing pictures with Momma Giardino, who took a seat at the table with the twins, the servers started bringing food to the table. "No menus?" asked Veronica.

"Italian family style meal," said Yi. "Paul set this up. He said it was well worth the cost for three hours of quiet in the house." There was Italian salad, balsamic tomato bruschetta, lasagna, chicken piccata, garlic bread, ziti carbonara, and for dessert, tiramisu. The twins didn't like the bruschetta or the chicken piccata, but they loved the ziti carbonara, which came as a surprise to everyone except Yi. They were at the age when they didn't like to deviate from their regular menu and were picky. "We have a rule in the house. Taste everything or eat nothing."

"Yi is mean," said Madeline around a mouthful of ziti. Sandy was studying her forkful of chicken piccata like it was nuclear contamination. She finally tasted it, then shrugged.

"Blue box is better."

Yi groaned, but she turned to Mamma and said, "Sorry, but right now in their life, blue box mac and cheese is haute cuisine."

Momma sighed and said, "For years that's all their papa and their Uncle John had to eat. I'd be surprised if either of them will touch it now."

"How did New York go?" Kenny asked Veronica. To a Western New Yorker, the words New York almost always mean one thing - Manhattan. A western New Yorker rarely says, "New York State," They'll just say "State" or they'll say "Western New York" which is Rochester and everything west. "Central New York" is the Finger Lakes region. There's Upstate New York, which is Syracuse east to Schenectady and everything north. Then Albany to the Massachusetts line and south to Yonkers is called "The People's Republic of New York."

"It went fine; this IPO is more complex than I had anticipated. I guess investors want to see innovation on new platforms rather than on old platforms."

"Proven," said Josh quietly. "Say proven platform. It will emphasize our R&D work."

"You and I will say that, as will Ant. Guess who didn't." Josh groaned. He was now sure that Brandon Mitchell was out to sink Andalon Data Systems. It's almost like he placed a huge bet against Andalon Data Systems going public. He made a vow to himself to keep an eye on the jerk. Veronica said, "We have a meeting in Rochester on the Saturday after Thanksgiving, we need you to be there."

"Good, finally inviting tech to the table," said Josh. Maybe he could pound some sense into Brandon Mitchell.

<><><><><>

Tigger purred loudly as Veronica entered the house. The orange cat rubbed itself against her leg, letting the world know that this woman was his. "Can I see the apartment?" asked Veronica.

"Sure, almost done," said Josh as he hung up their coats. He led her downstairs, and it was like a whole new house down there. The washer and dryer were in the laundry room of her dreams at the foot of the stairs. Before construction, they were sitting on the other side of the bare basement. A bathroom with a step-in shower was part of the large laundry room.

The back wall had a stylish barn door. "We decided to go with sliding doors," said Josh. "It gives privacy and doesn't take up room. Gus had some scraps and made this barn door." He slid the door to the side, and there were two rooms. One was set up as a study with a recliner that would lift him to a stand, a TV, and a small dinette if her dad wanted to eat downstairs. The other room was a bedroom with a full-size bed, dresser, bedside stand, wardrobe, TV, bookshelves; there was even a space heater that looked like a wood-burning stove.

"This is comfy," said Veronica as she threw herself on the bed. Josh climbed onto the bed and straddled her waist.

"Very comfy," he said as he unbuttoned her blouse slowly, button by button.

"What are you doing?" Veronica demanded in mock outrage.

"I'm undressing you," said Josh. "I'm going to strip you naked, then I'm going to go down on you until you cum. Then, and only then, I'm going to fill you with my cock and fuck you until you scream for more."

Veronica gasped with a jolt of sudden excitement that went right to her vagina. Josh rarely talked to her like that, and he never talked like that out of the blue. It takes a while for her to 'prime the pump' and get him bold like that. "On my daddy's bed?" she said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "That's... That's... That's wrong!"

"That ranks up with getting an under the table blowjob at Thanksgiving," he said with a grin.

Veronica suddenly had an image in her mind of crawling under the table at Thanksgiving at the Jarecki's house along with Andi, Macy, Lucy, and Yi and all five women showing their thankfulness with an after dinner blowjob while their men sipped coffee, talked sports, and tried to pretend nothing was going on.

"What's up with my Josh?" squealed Veronica as he unzipped her slacks and pulled them off. "Where did all these naughty ideas come from?" Veronica was quickly stripped down until she was wearing only her black thigh-high stockings. Josh scrambled down between her legs, and Veronica whimpered, "Not here. Not on daddy's bed."

But Josh ignored her and crouched down between her legs, pushing her thighs and legs apart, exposing her trimmed vagina. She tried to close her legs, but he soon had her spread open, pressing his tongue into the moist lips of her pussy.

Veronica began groaning at the contact, and then groaning louder as he worked his tongue into her, stroking into her. There was a gasp from her as he found her clitoris, stroking, circling and lifting the delicate bud, his tongue working magic on her. She was whimpering, moaning, becoming more and more aroused, her passion taking over, her body moving involuntarily. One hand clutched his head; holding him at his task. Her other hand grasped her breast and squeezed. As she pinched and twisted her nipple, Josh slid two fingers into her sodden pussy and began finger-fucking her in earnest while his tongue laved on her clit.

She looked at Josh in disbelief, as if she were unable to understand why this was happening. Again, she said, "I can't do it here, not on daddy's bed," but she did nothing to stop him. She just groaned and pressed her feet into the mattress, lifting her pussy up for Josh's attention. Veronica's cries became louder; and she began shaking and crying out. Her body shuddered with spasms as she climaxed.

Josh quickly stripped, and her eyes widened as she saw that he was naked and sporting an enormous erection. She gasped as she viewed Josh's very thick and very hard cock, which was jutting straight out, pointed at her, throbbing with every beat of his heart. "Oh no! You're not going to put that in me! Not on Daddy's bed!" And she closed her legs, but she was so weak from her orgasm that he easily spread them again, and moved up her body, mounting her, directing his cock against the moist swollen lips of her vagina.

Veronica appeared out of control, too weak to put up any resistance. She lay there, her eyes wide, her body flushed and trembling as she looked at Josh. Then she nodded her head and closed her eyes, giving over to the moment, her legs falling open more as she surrendered.

She flinched when she felt the touch of his cock, moaning as he pressed against the moist lips of her cunt, groaning as he stretched her, and then a hoarse cry as the head of his cock entered her, beginning to fill her. He steadily advanced his cock, filling her more, Veronica groaning and then crying out again as he fully impaled her.

Veronica almost came at that moment. Josh continued moving into her, stretching her more, his cock pressing deeper until he completely filled her, pushing firmly against her cervix. Veronica cried out again. She had never been so filled, so impaled as she was at that moment. The sheer naughtiness of fucking on her parents' bed got into her head and she surrendered to his cock.

Josh began moving in her, starting slowly, moving fully in and out, his cock wet and shiny with her juices. Gradually he increased his thrusting, his future wife moaning continually. Her whole being was centered around his iron-hard cock filling her, moving in and out of her. Veronica was flushed and trembling as Josh continued. She had never been so overcome with passion as she was at that moment. The erotic situation was lifting her to heights she didn't think possible, and she was so wet that his stroking into her was audible, making sucking sounds that both could hear.

He began thrusting faster, punishing her with his cock, pushing powerfully into her depths. She clutched him as she felt her orgasm approaching. When Veronica felt Josh swelling even more, she cried out shrilly, her climax full upon her, her body twisting and jerking with the power of her release. This triggered his orgasm, and Josh groaned, ejaculating into Veronica, and she could feel his semen spurting against her cervix, carrying her along, her orgasm going on and on till he drained himself into her. Finally, he collapsed, spent.

They lay kissing for a long time, and she felt his cock soften and slither out of her. She thought proudly, "Mission Accomplished." She made him rock hard and ready to fuck, then she drained his balls and calmed him back down.

"Let's take a shower and go to bed," said Josh.

"I concur," sighed a well-fucked Veronica.

Forty-five minutes later, they were snuggling upstairs in their bed, a small fire crackling in the fireplace, and Josh was telling Veronica about the fun he had when the babies were born. "You ok, Nica?"

"I was doing fine until you decided to bone me in dad's shower," groaned Veronica.

"You can't turn over an unchristened shower to dad now, can you?"

"You're killing me Ephie."

"Fucked to death? No. Not on two welcome home quickies."

She kissed his nose and said, "the idea of a quickie is to keep it under fifteen minutes, from 'hey babe' to 'can I call you an uber.'"

"Then what was what we did tonight?"

"That was a full blown, double barrel bootie call."

"Oh... this must be something that was determined while I was in Korea," said Josh as he acted confused. "I thought a bootie call entitled me to..." and he squeezed her butt, a finger probing her tight anus.

"I have to save something for our honeymoon," she said as she kissed Josh goodnight.

<><><><><>֍<><><><><>

The base taxi pulled up at an address at the edge of base housing. The pickup truck stopped in the driveway, and a young man got out of the passenger side. He was wearing a back brace; his arm was in a sling, and he walked with a cane and a heavy limp. He had been there several times before, but when he rang the doorbell he was answered by a cheerful-looking young black girl. "Hello?"

"I'm sorry, I was looking for Doctor Jarecki," said the lieutenant.

She looked at the young lieutenant through the crack in the door and said, "My husband and I have been here over a month. Was Doctor Jarecki here before us?"

"Yes," he said so quietly the young woman could barely hear him. "I'm sorry to have interrupted you," and he slowly limped back to the base taxi that was waiting for him.

When Dennis was released from the US Naval Hospital at Camp Foster on Okinawa, he stepped off the bus at Kadena Air Base, and for some reason it felt like a prison. The roar of an F-15 on the flightline taunted him. It was as if the plane was reminding him he'd never pass a flight physical again. Through the surgeries and agonizing physical therapy, he was out of communication with his squadron and his friends. The squadron commander, Lt. Colonel Harkness, stopped by once to wish him well, and he ended up rubbing his nose in it, saying he lost two good pilots in Korea.

There was a hearing when he was able; there are always hearings. First, Lieutenant Colonel Blecher convinced the board of inquiry that Dennis had got Melony Ruskin drunk in order to take advantage of her. Dennis's response was that the colonel's statement was a lie, that he had spent the night trying to drag Melony out of the club, and that Buzz kept feeding her soju from a bottle he brought in with him. "A bottle I may add that Colonel Blecher did not drink from himself."

The questioning was brutal, but the judge advocate assigned to Dennis by the area defense council, the ADC, saw a young lieutenant being railroaded and worked hard to defend him. Finally, the damning portion of the hearing came when the head of the hearing asked, "When you were told to clear the runway, why did you take off and not taxi off the runway?"

"I was ordered to take off. Colonel Blecher said, 'Talon four, you are flight lead,' followed with 'get off the ground now, damnit.'"

"Lieutenant Howe, you've been through a lot of pain, both physical and emotional, are you sure that's exactly what he said."

"Yes, if he had told me to taxi off the runway, why would he and talon six follow me up and across the Sea of Japan?"

Before the board was able to ask another question, the lawyer representing Dennis said, "We have the tower tapes from Kunsan that day." With an angry glare at Dennis, the board of inquiry moved on to the bird strikes. "Lieutenant Strand from Talon six claims that you steered your flight into a flock of geese."

Dennis took a small notebook out of his pocket and said, "I advised Colonel Becher at thirteen oh five, at thirteen ten, and at thirteen fifteen about the NOTAM about geese migration and requested each time a descent to angels 250. He told me to shut up each time."

It didn't matter. In the end, they pushed Dennis out. He was pissing on a rising star in the military, and he had to be silenced. Dennis resigned his commission, returned stateside, a broken, lonely man.

<><><><><>

It was a warm summer Sunday when Dennis stopped the rental car in front of an old wood-framed house with a large front porch and a detached garage. It was an old neighborhood. The houses on the west side of the street had ivy-covered stone walls around the front of the front lawn bordering the sidewalk. The houses on that side of the street were built of the same stone. This house was on the east side of the street, and the houses here were wood frame, built in the early 1900s.

He struggled up the front step to the off-center front door and rang the doorbell, but there was no answer. He paused for a minute and rang again, but there was no answer. He turned and saw that there was a glider swing. He had seen these in movies, but they didn't exist in his life. He sat down slowly and began swinging. On such a perfect day, he could smell the flowers and feel the peace - it was one of those days where the temperature, the humidity, and the gentle breeze were all perfect.

He watched as a dozen or so ducks walked across the street from behind the stone wall. Mallards, four beautiful green-head males and the rest females. He could hear their quacking and their webbed feet slapping on the pavement. They trooped to the neighbor's front lawn, stopping traffic as they waddled their way across North Long Street.

Every flower garden had a gazing ball, and each was a different hue. They reflected the blinding glare of the sun in their own rich color. The house with the ducks had a red gazing ball, the Cape Cod across the street had a rich blue gazing ball, and the house to the right had a silver gazing ball. This was the America that Dennis always wanted, the America with families, and picnics, and Buzz Blecher was not allowed in. The serenity of the moment was punctuated by the sound of a distant church bell, and Dennis was transported back to the French countryside of his youth. Yes, everything was completely different, yet somehow, everything was so similar.

He tried to get to his feet, and he failed. "I've failed everything," he whispered. He leaned his head back and breathed deeply of the scent of the flowers. He listened to the chirping birds, the whirring of the hummingbirds, the gentle music of the wind chimes and lost track of everything...

"Are you ok?" asked a soft voice.

Dennis woke with a jerk, which hurt his back. A woman in her late fifties was leaning over, gazing at Dennis with concern. She had beautiful blond hair, and she was... cute! "I'm sorry... Missus Jarecki is it? I didn't realize that I fell asleep."

"You must be friends with Paulie. I'm Katarina, but please, call me Kat."

"Paul! Is he here? I need to talk to Paul." Just then a man stepped out onto the porch. He was shorter than Katarina, but he had Paul's dark hair and hooked nose. Dennis struggled to his feet. "Mister Jarecki, I apologize. I rang the bell and sat down... I was watching the ducks and I must have..."

"Those damn ducks..." grumbled the man, and he walked back into the house.

"Excuse Cecil, he hates those ducks. They poop on the driveway and it makes him crazy." She forced Dennis to sit and explained that there was a stream behind the houses on the west side of the street and that behind several of the houses, the stream fed ornamental duck ponds. "You relax, Johnny will be here soon, he's bringing the salads and poppa will start the grill."

"No, I can't. I came to find out where Paul is and..."

"You relax. There will be time to talk after dinner," said Katarina as she sat next to Dennis and got out her knitting needles and started to knit.

Cecil stepped out on the porch again and said, "when Momma said relax, you relax," and he handed Dennis a beer. Dennis had never had a Labatt's Blue, and it was perfect.

"Yes sir," said Dennis. This was so odd. These were probably Paul's parents. He got this address from a Christmas card they sent him last year, and their names - Cecil and Katarina - were Paul's folks, but they didn't respond when he called them Mister and Missus Jarecki. What was odd (to Dennis) was the fact that they were so nice. His parents were ice-cold and didn't want him anywhere near. Melony said that her parents were the same way. "That's probably why we flew so well together."

"You were a flier?" asked Katarina.

"Yes, I... I'm sorry did I say that out loud? I talk to myself sometimes."

"Wright Thurston says, 'self-talk is the most powerful form of communication because it either empowers you or it defeats you,'" said Katarina.

"A self-help guru," grumbled Cecil. "We talk to ourselves because we have to speak with at least one sane person per day - Cyryl Jarecki."

Dennis just chuckled. Paul and Melony spoke about Cecil and Katarina's conversations, and this was exactly what they described. Katarina was so smart and so pretty, quoting self-help gurus or ancient Gnostic monks while Cecil grumbled his own self-help mantra. Dennis was about to ask for information on where he could find Paul when a small Alfa-Romeo spider swung into the driveway. The tiny white car was driven by a beautiful black woman who was dressed in white to match the car. Her co-pilot was a young man dressed in a black suit, white shirt, and black tie. She got out of the tiny car and unfolded her beautiful, long legs. As she got out, a smaller, younger version of Paul Jarecki got out the other side. "Paul?" gasped Dennis as he fought to hold back the tears.

As the two mounted the stairs to the front porch, Katarina said, "Macy, Johnny, we have a guest for dinner. This is a friend of Paul's." Kat took the shopping bags from John and said, "Cecil dear, come help me in the kitchen," and they left Dennis alone with Paul's brother and sister-in-law.

Macy sat next to the disabled flier, and she stayed close to Dennis because she felt his wounded soul. John, too, treated Dennis with the utmost care. As Cecil grilled dinner in the backyard and Katarina fussed in the kitchen making dinner preparations, John finally said, "We're not avoiding talking about Paul because we're hiding information from you. We just don't know anything ourselves. It's been a very painful year and he's been silent, so we don't know what happened. I know Mom and Dad both want to beg you for details. They're just afraid of what you're going to say."

"It's not a pretty story," said Dennis as he stared at his hands. "If Paul has close ties with his family, he needs them, so I don't understand what is happening."

Macy turned to John and said, "Pensez-vous qu'il sait où est Paul?" (Do you think he knows where Paul is?)

John leaned toward Macy and said, "Je prie Dieu pour qu'il le fasse." (I pray to God that he does.)

Dennis heard them speak in their French Canadian accents, and to his Paris-educated ear they sounded like country hicks would sound to someone from Manhattan. Canadian French has evolved from Parisian French until it's almost a separate dialect. Without looking up from his hands, Dennis said in perfect French, "Je ne sais pas où il est allé, je suis venu ici en espérant que tu le saurais." (I don't know where he went. I came here hoping you would know.)

"We weren't hiding our conversation from you," sputtered John. "We met in Montreal and have always spoken French to each other... I suppose it's a bad habit."

"No by all means," said Dennis in French. "I have had two periods in my life when I could say I was truly happy, one of those times was living with an Aunt and Uncle in Paris."

"When was the other?" asked Macy, dreading the answer.

"It was the year I spent with Paul and Melony."

From that point on, John, Macy, and Dennis spoke in French with each other. John talked about meeting Macy as a student at École de Théologie Évangélique du Québec, and Macy talked about being raised in a fishing village at the mouth of the Saint Lawrence River. "I was raised by two political vultures," said Dennis in French. "My mother was the Washington reporter for the AFP Agence France-Presse, my father is a senior aide for Senator Alvin Kroc from New Hampshire. When I turned eight, I was shipped off to Paris to live with my Aunt Giselle and Uncle Stéphane Laporte." He looked sad and said, "That was the first time I felt what it was like to be part of a family. For the first time I wasn't an inconvenience."

"Come eat!" sang Katarina, and Macy led Dennis through a beautifully furnished house. Nothing gaudy or upscale, but everything matched. Everything except a recliner that Dennis was sure was Cecil's "throne." She led him out the kitchen door to the back porch, where dinner was laid out. Grilled chicken, corn on the cob, potato salad, three-bean salad, and Polish cucumber radish salad.

Dennis sat with the family, and John led the family in grace before eating. "This is delicious!" said Dennis as he tried the chicken. "What is this seasoning?"

"It's a vinegar based Italian seasoning," said Katarina.

"Everything is so good," said Dennis, who ate like he had been starving. Much of the dinner was new and unique to him, like the cucumber and radish salad and the three-bean salad.

"Slow down, there's plenty," chuckled Cecil. The family laughed and told each other the latest Polish jokes they had heard.

"You tell Polack jokes at dinner?" asked the ex-fighter pilot.

"Buffalo is a very Polish town and we're Polish, through and through," said John. "Any joke we tell would be Polish by nature anyhow."

Dennis grinned and said, "Oh... then I have a Polish knock-knock joke."

Kat brightened and said, "I want to hear it."

"Ok you start," said Dennis.

Katarina smiled and said, "Knock-knock!"

"Who's there?" said Dennis, and he waited eagerly for her response.

Thrown off balance by the turn of events, Katarina was startled. "Uh... I... huh?" said a shocked Katarina, who had the simplest of jokes turned around on her. But her reaction itself was the punchline, and the family roared with laughter.

Finally, as the afternoon drew into evening and John strummed his guitar, Dennis agreed to spend the night there. Once that was settled, Cecil cleared his throat and said, "'The time has come,' the Walrus said, 'To talk of many things: Of shoes, and ships, and sealing-wax. Of cabbages, and kings...'"

Dennis frowned and continued the verse, "And why the sea gives up her dead, and why I wear no wings." He looked around the table and said, "I was Melony Ruskin's wingman. She was my flight leader. I could navigate... damn I was good. And she could fight. I've never seen her lose a one-on-one with any aircraft. We were the top flight in the squadron, the pair everyone needed to beat. Everyone tried, but nobody beat us. It's like we were born to fly together. And Melony was born to be with Paul; I've never seen a couple in love like that. Paul and I were the closest of friends... we were a great big happy circle, as Melony put it. The three of us went everywhere together, shopping, hiking, snorkeling..." Dennis started clenching and unclenching his fists. He stared at his hands and stopped.

"What happened?" asked Cecil.

"Tell us," said Katarina. "All we heard was that Melony had died and Paul told us he was coming home, and we haven't heard a thing from him. I got a card on my birthday. That's it," said the distraught mother.

"What happened? I failed. A wingman is supposed to watch his flight lead's six, and I got distracted. The detachment commander ordered us to join him at the officer's club on the night before we flew out. I tried to get Melony to go back to her room but Buzz was giving her soju, a sweet potent liquor that doesn't taste like alcohol. He said he would get Melony back to her room and ordered me to go back to mine. I should have said no... I should have led her back myself. But I didn't. Like an idiot I obeyed his orders."

Dennis paused, trembling. Tears of rage crossed his cheeks. "The next morning, she wouldn't talk to me. I got her alone and begged her to say something, but she refused. She just said, 'It's my problem now.' Then we got on our planes and taxied out to the runway. She was flight leader, I was navigating. She didn't say anything. She just shut down her engines. I pulled forward and saw her sitting there, not moving. Then the commander ordered me to lead the flight and get off the ground."

"And then?" asked Cecil.

"And then my life ended," said Dennis blankly. "I selected an altitude that the commander didn't like, so he ordered us to a higher altitude where swans flew when migrating. I told him three times about the swans... but I'm the one that got hit." Dennis started hyperventilating. "I had to bail out. My engine exploded when my seat ejected, and the ejection broke my back. I floated on the ocean for days and was picked up by an aircraft carrier and transferred to a Navy hospital. All the while my flight commander told everyone that would listen that I had had an affair with Melony, that I was going to tell Paul about it and she killed herself. He said I tried to commit suicide but chickened out and ejected."

Dennis stared at his fists like they were alien things. "I have nothing. I can't fly, I can't work. I'm a hundred fifty percent disabled, any reputation I had was destroyed by that man, as was Melony's. And poor Paul has to put up with it."

The family sat stunned at what Dennis said. Macy and Katarina fought to keep back the tears, and Katarina whimpered, "my poor Paulie."

<><><><><>

"For the court's record, please state your name, rank, and current address."

"Howe, Dennis J. First Lieutenant. My current mailing address is Massachusetts Avenue Heights, Washington DC."

"Lieutenant Howe," started the prosecutor, whose last name was also Howe, "To your knowledge are you related to the defense attorney in any way?"

"Me, related to him?" Dennis scoffed derisively. He's been fighting for years to get this court martial rolling; he would not let it get canceled on a technicality like being related to that worm. "No, it's highly unlikely."

"Why is that?" asked the presiding judge.

Dennis turned his weary eyes to the judge. He hasn't slept in days, going over his testimony time and time again with his psychologist, Doctor Marie-Claud Solange Dagenais-Jarecki. "My father's family has lived in Hampton, New Hampshire, for generations. My mother is from Paris. The Defense Attorney is from Milwaukee." He pronounced Milwaukee as if it were a social disease.

The prosecution questioned Dennis about the events that led up to the death of Melony Ruskin. In the gallery, Lt. Colonel Paul Jarecki looked like he was dozing, until Dennis said, "Plan B." Melony was deathly allergic to levonorgestrel the active ingredient in birth control pills, and the Plan B 'morning after pill' was a mega-dose of levonorgestrel. He saw hope in Paul's dead eyes for the first time. As Melony's husband and as a medical doctor, he should be able to put Blecher away for life.

"Lieutenant Howe, you said you overheard General Blecher having sex with Melony Ruskin on the night before her untimely death..." started the Defense Attorney.

"I did not. That was Lieutenant Strand who had a room next to General Blecher. I said I saw him give Melony numerous drinks of Soju from a bottle he himself did not drink from."

The defense tried a different tack. "Lieutenant Howe, records show that when you ejected you said, 'General Blecher, you killed both of us.' What did you mean by that?"

"I did not say that. I said, 'Buzz, you fucking bastard, you killed me too.' I was referring to him plying Melony with alcohol and forcing me to fly at an altitude that put the three of us in the flyway of migrating swans."

When he was done testifying, he went and sat behind Paul, which put him next to Macy. Macy patted his hand; she had worked with him for two days getting him ready for this moment. "Tu as fait du bon travail!" (You did great!) she whispered.

"Tout cela grâce à Cecil et à toi." (It's all thanks to Cecil, and you) replied Dennis. After he had told Cecil and Katarina what he suspected about Buzz Blecher, Cecil paid an army of private investigators to dig up everything they could on Buzz Blecher, and they struck gold. He then turned the findings over to Senator Elden, who got the ball rolling in DC to start the court-martial process.

They listened to Paul testify with growing anger against the man who killed his wife. The hopelessness of the past years was falling away. Dennis and Macy listened to Paul testify and as his questioning drew to a close Dennis whispered to Macy, "Je vais y aller, donner ça à Paul quand il sortira la tête." (I'm going to go, give this to Paul when he pulls his head out.) He handed Macy a sealed letter and headed out the rear of the court for his new life in New Caledonia. Soon, Macy would lead Paul out of the court for a new life. She would put him on a private plane and fly back to Buffalo, where he would reunite with his parents and beat up John.

<><><><><>֍<><><><><>

Life slowly returned to normal in Springville after the attack on John and Andi. When the babies were born, John returned to the pulpit, replacing Macy and taking back his position as pastor. A video of Macy thanking the people of Springville for letting her preach was shown on the screen above the pulpit before service started. "I thank you all so much for being so kind and letting me teach the word. But now I have an additional responsibility." She lifted little Katarina into the frame to a collective "Awww!" from the congregation. "I now return you to your regular pastor," she said with a smile, and for a moment the camera zoomed back to show Andi holding Danny, then the lights came up and John was at the lectern.

To this day, Josh will claim that he's the one who started the standing ovation, but so will a dozen other people. They were just so happy to see their friend John Jarecki back at the lectern after being so horribly injured back in September. With Frank Rosetti locked up, the only thing to worry about was that idiot mayor Samael Windecker, and what to do next date night.

Josh and Veronica have at least one date night a week. Their date nights included concerts and museums, Niagara Falls, boat shows, camping shows, car shows. They even went to a firewood show. It showed a myriad of chainsaws, axes, splitting mauls, power splitters, firewood stackers and bundlers. Movies were rare. Even though they had different tastes in movies, they expected a decent movie for the money they paid, and both agreed that Hollywood stopped putting out good, original movies even before COVID. However, they loved going to the North Park theater for classic movies. When they saw The African Queen on the big screen, they fell in love all over again, and when Veronica took Josh to see Spirited Away, she created a new anime fanatic in Josh. He got payback when he turned Veronica into a Jackie Chan fanatic with Legend of Drunken Master.

Of course, sports were included on Date Night. One of Veronica's favorite sports date nights was a trip to Lake Shore Dragstrip in Ashtabula, Ohio, to watch Lucy Kosis, Andi's best friend and Gus Didomissio's fiancée. Lucy, a thoracic surgeon, had a beautiful 1969 Chevy Nova with a 390 engine, and Gus introduced her to drag racing. It was bracket racing; the idea is to get as close as possible to your initial time without going under it (breaking out). Being a surgeon, Lucy excelled at doing the same thing again and again and doing it right every time. They went down to the pits to congratulate Lucy on her victory and arrived in time to see her receive a trophy for Rookie of the Year.

Other sports dates included hockey, which Veronica loved and Josh didn't understand, and Buffalo Bisons baseball, which they were both rabid about. They went to Toronto to watch the Bluejays beat the hell out of the New York Yankees, which was fun, but not as much fun as the triple A Buffalo Bisons. However, the weekend before Thanksgiving brought the big one - the Buffalo Bills. Even an early-season 'nothing' game was the biggest NFL event in New York State because the two other teams that claim to be New York, actually play in New Jersey.

Josh was nervous because he had never been in a crowd as big as the Bills draw. There were going to be over seventy thousand people in attendance from all over Western New York and Western Pennsylvania. While enjoying a cold brew at Worzil's Bar and Grille, Josh noticed a sign behind the bar: "Worzils Bills Bus - $25 a seat." He had seen that sign behind the bar before every home game and never paid attention. "Bills Bus?" asked Josh.

"Game day tradition," said Ayato. "Ever since the 1950s, the local pubs hired buses to haul folks to the game. Back then there was no parking at the old Rockpile where the Bills used to play. Buses were the way to go."

"So how does it work?"

Julissa shrugged. "Buy a seat. We form up here at ten thirty. The bus leaves at eleven, and it doesn't wait. It lets you off at gate two. The bus starts loading after half time, and leaves thirty minutes after the end of the game."

Josh handed her a fifty and said, "two seats please."

<><><><><>

Game day! The Worzil's bus left the rear parking lot of Worzil's Bar and Grille exactly on time and whisked Josh and Veronica to Highmark Stadium to watch the Buffalo Bills take on the Pittsburgh Steelers. Neither Josh nor Veronica was a die-hard Bills fan, but you can't live in Western New York without being swept up in the Bills fever, and this year it was hot. The quarterback Josh Allen was on fire, setting NFL records for passing and running as a quarterback. The defense were beasts and stopped everything their opponents could throw at them. Tickets to a Bills game were rare as chicken lips, but Josh was given a pair of great tickets in return for the help he gave Paul and Andi when their son Danny was born.

They got off the bus and marched to the gate through the snow, carried their cushions and blankets through security, and found their way to section 134, straight up from the main scoreboard end 40-yard line. As they found their way to their seats, the crowd was booming. "LET'S GO! BUFF-A-LO! LET'S GO! BUFF-A-LO! LET'S GO! BUFF-A-LO!"

"What is going on?" cried Veronica. "The game hasn't started yet. They're cheering the warm-ups?"

A fellow on her right said, "It's part of being in the Mafia."

"What?" gasped Veronica. Thoughts of organized crime rushed through her mind. This could end her career.

"The Bills Mafia," said the fellow.

"I've never been to a live game before," said Veronica.

"You're in for an education," said the guy with a chuckle, and he was right. When they finally got to the opening kickoff, the playoff-hungry Bills were so amped up they were lined up on the sidelines ready to eat any Steeler that ventured too close. The Steelers won the toss and elected to kick off. Suddenly the chant became "RIGHT HERE! RIGHT NOW!" over and over until the ball was kicked, and the chant changed into a loud random scream.

That's all that Veronica really remembers of the game, the friendliness and the singing. Even though she was wearing a Pittsburgh Steelers yellow and black stocking cap and scarf, she was treated with respect by the rest of the crowd. Probably because Josh was wearing the same hat and scarf in Bill's red, white and blue. That and he had the same first name as the quarterback. The Bills fans even sang "Mister Brightside" (a song that Josh hated) and the team loved it; they were dancing and jamming along with the fans. The game was a blowout, with the hyped-up Bills winning 34 to 7, and Veronica cheered both teams.

It was dark when the Worzil's Bills Bus returned to Springville, and as soon as they got off the bus, Veronica made a beeline to the ladies' room because she had had a couple of huge beers at the game and the bathroom lines at the stadium were long. "How was it?" Ayato asked Josh as he set a cold Genesee Cream Ale in front of him.

"It was... interesting," said Josh. "I think Veronica liked it better than I did. She likes these team events."

"Yeah, I remember opening day at Sahlen's Park with her screaming "Kill the umpire," said a chuckling Julissa.

"She takes her baseball seriously. She played softball in college."

"Ohio State?" asked Julissa.

"THEE Ohio State," said Josh.

"That's absolutely right," said Veronica as she took Josh's beer. "We'll each have a beef-on-weck with potato salad and Buffalo style coleslaw." Buffalo-style coleslaw is coleslaw with a dash of Frank's hot sauce mixed in. Josh got a fresh beer and sat down with Veronica in a booth by the side window.

"So you liked your first Bills game?" Josh asked. It was clear that she loved it. She now had a Bills stocking cap and scarf that she traded with a fellow from Pittsburgh, and she still hasn't taken either of them off.

"Ooo! Ooo!" She pointed at the TV behind the bar. "That's the play that what's his name, the quarterback, handed off the ball, ran down field, received a pass and ran it in for a touchdown."

"His name is Josh," said Josh as he chuckled at her excitement. "So, you didn't mind when it started snowing?"

"No, we got to cuddle under our blanket and watch the game."

"I suppose we'll have to go again sometime," said Josh as Julissa brought their dinners out.

"Maybe Paul has tickets for the next home game!" she said brightly.

"That's Thanksgiving. I'm not giving that up for any football team.

"I'm going to look up season tickets," she said as she took a bite from her sandwich.

<><><><><>

The next morning at work, Josh filed into the conference room ready to find out how the needs of the customers and the upcoming IPO were going to screw up his holidays. Last year he busted his ass and covered the holidays for his section; this year he wants to spend the holidays with Veronica and John and Paul. He wanted to spend Christmas Eve night and Christmas morning in the cabin with Veronica. He wanted to snuggle by the fire with the woman of his dreams, and he wanted to put a diamond on her finger one month after Thanksgiving. At the same time, he was sure that Anthony was going to screw it all up somehow.

"Ok, Miss von Köster, what's the first thing on the list this morning?" asked Anthony.

Veronica tried to continue with a horribly raspy voice. "The firm of Bradley, Taylor and Hayes has reviewed our addendum..." She could barely get the words out. Her voice was raspy; she could barely be heard. She stopped and sipped some hot tea and then tried again. "The firm of Bradley, Taylor and Hay... I'm sorry, I have a sore throat."

"Oh, if you're sick maybe you should have stayed in and took care of yourself," said Anthony Friedman, CEO.

"No, not sick, we had a big day yesterday..."

Anthony's wife Marj looked at Josh with a randy grin and said, "You beast!"

Josh just shrugged and smiled. "I had fun..." That's when Veronica hit him with her notebook, causing the company vice presidents to explode in laughter. "We were at the Bills game and Veronica got into the Bills Mafia," said Josh, trying to cover quickly.

<><><><><>

The Thanksgiving feast was held at Paul and Andi's house as usual, but this year it seemed happier. Yes, Andi and John still experienced pain from their injuries, but they were up early, fed the kids and as John and Paul started cooking, Andi, Macy, and Andi's mom Heather were decorating the house for Christmas.

Andi was happily assisting Paul and Macy, who were looping the garland along the banister of the grand staircase. Where the loops swooped up to meet the handrails, they decorated the peak of the loop with a large red and gold bow. The garland had multicolored glass ornaments, and they worked hard to match the left and right banisters that divided the parlor from the living room.

As they stepped back to admire their work, the doorbell rang, and the twins and Wonka rushed to see who was at the door. Peeking through the window behind the tree, Sandy saw who it was and dashed to the door and opened it before her parents could say, "Wait!"

"It's ok," said Madeline. "It's just Aunty Ronika."

Josh and Veronica came in as Paul and Andi welcomed them into the house. "You're early," said Andi.

"It's snowing," said Veronica.

"Yeah It's snowin'" said Josh. "An ah figgered if'n we were gonna be snowed in, we should do it where the food is."

"One little blizzard and he's gun shy," sighed Veronica, rolling her eyes. She's lived on the shores of Lake Erie most of her life, but Josh has yet to learn what snow is really all about.

"Wail, ah kin earn my keep," said Josh. "Ah kin decorate, cook, and eat. What else is needed on a Thanksgiving?" Paul chuckled as he spoke. Josh's southern accent was refreshing. The military, especially the enlisted corps, is dominated by the patriotic good ol' boys from the South. It was like being home when Paul heard Josh speak.

Andi's phone rang, and she disappeared to take the call, and Josh helped Paul hang Christmas ornaments. The big Victorian house already had the exterior lights up and running; now it was time to bathe the inside with garlands and greenery. As Josh held a stepladder for Paul while Paul hung a large wreath over the front door mudroom, Andi handed her phone to Josh. "Here, it's Lanh, she wants to talk to you."

Josh looked confused, and he held the phone up and saw the caller ID that said Doctor Campbell. "Hello? Lanh?"

"Josh?"

A huge smile of recognition spread across Josh's face as the memories came flooding back. "SQUEAKY!"

"REDNECK!" she squealed.

"Oh my God little baby! How are you doing? I heard about Don's injuries. How is he doing?

"I'm right here," said Don. "I ain't dead yet. How are you doing? We thought you died of cancer!"

"Ah ain't dead yet neither. I'm livin' the good life two blocks away from Miss Andi. Whatch y'all up to?"

"We're living in Colorado, but it's not panning out, so we'll be heading home to the farm right after Christmas."

"Back to the cows? Your little lady will like that... and I do mean little."

Lanh, Don, Josh, and Andi chatted happily. Lanh and Don were stunned that two old friends from different places now live two blocks from each other. "We've got to get together," said Josh.

"We're tied up for the next two months, " said Don. "After that you're all welcome to come out to the farm."

"How about a cruise in February?" said Paul as he brought another box of decorations down from the attic. "Andi and I have been aching to go sailing and we will have the big boat."

"Yes, let's do it!" gushed Andi. "Josh and Veronica are overdue a vacation together, and you guys need the rest."

"I don't think so," said Don. "Money is tight and..."

"It will be my Christmas present to Andi," said Paul.

"You need to speak with Veronica about adopting in the first place," insisted Andi.

"Who?"

Now Veronica stepped up to Andi's phone. "I'm executive assistant to the founder and president of Adoption Advocates, Andi told me about your situation and I think, no, I know we can help."

Lanh nearly broke down in tears. How many times has she heard that? How much money have they lost trying over and over to adopt? "I'm sorry but we don't have the money anymore... It's cost us so much and we're so tired..." Don and Lanh's failed adoption attempt a couple of years previously cost them every dime they had.

"No, this is a free service, and we have a 99 percent placement record. We can even come up with financial assistance to parents. Look us up on the website and give me a call next week. I'll have Andi text you my personal cell phone number."

They chatted for a while, and then after Andi, Lanh, and Josh said goodbye and promised to keep updated, Macy strolled up carrying Katarina. "Who was that?" asked Macy as Andi hung up the phone.

"A wonderful, wonderful friend that I left behind in Colorado when I chose to stay here," sighed Andi.

"Lanh was a nut," said Josh.

"How did you know Lanh?" asked Andi.

"We had a couple in the squadron, a big guy named Wedge worked for me, his girlfriend Roxie worked with Don. The four of us hung out together. I went to meet Wedge and Roxie for dinner at the NCO club one evening and at the club they had Don and Lanh with them. I knew Don, great troop, loved the hell out of him, and he had this tiny little ajumma with him and..."

"A what?" asked Andi.

"Ajumma is a Korean word for married woman. So, she's sitting there, and I figured I'd show off all of my magical powers of Korean lingo and said 'Annyeonghaseyo ajumma,' and she said 'Huh?' and Don said, 'She doesn't speak Korean, just Vietnamese, German, and English.' I said, 'Ah ain't no good on none o' them.' and she said, 'Sit yo ass down.' I said, 'You speak 'merican too!' She loved it, we was buddies ever since. She was living in the dorm with Don for two months."

"She never told me that part, " said Andi. "Don was my patient after he was discharged."

Soon Josh, Paul, and Gus were decorating the fourteen foot tall tree. They started from the top and worked their way down until they got to the lower half, then John and Paul finished decorating the tree. John was still in leg braces and did much of his work sitting on a stool, but he got to complete their tradition of decorating the tree with his brother Paul.

<><><><><>֍<><><><><>

New Caledonia suited Dennis Howe perfectly. Sun, beaches, tropical weather, French, Kanak, and Polynesian cultures mix daily in the most beautiful place on earth. The island of New Caledonia boasts mountains, rivers, waterfalls, and lagoons. Every day was a warm, sunny day regardless of what the calendar said. His dad set him up with a job at the US Consulate extension branch office in Nouméa. The real US Embassy was nine hundred miles away in Suva on Fiji, and there were very few Americans on New Caledonia, so Dennis's office hours were noon to two Monday through Thursday.

No one knew who he was, and nobody cared. There were rumors around that he was a pilot, but when asked, he would answer, "J'ai laissé mon permis expirer." (I let my license lapse.) Regardless, he was known to the locals as "L'aviateur Américain."

Daily he strolled around the city of Nouméa, visiting the vendors and shopkeepers, and he made a few friends. One day a week he would go to Le Bout du Monde where he would read an American newspaper and sip a cold Havannah, an amber lager beer, then head home alone. Life was not good, but it was better than before.

He still had nightmares. Occasionally, he had dreams of Melony Ruskin standing next to him wherever he went on New Caledonia. She wouldn't interact with him, but it was comforting to have her there. But there were also the nightmares, many of which were of falling from 35,000 feet. Sometimes he was falling without a chute. Other times he was in a burning F-15 and the ejection seat failed and he had to ride it to its death as it plunged to the ocean. Other times he was in a completely lifeless, unresponsive F-15 that was aimed at something -- a building, a mountain, a city. The stick and throttle didn't respond, nor did the rudder pedals, and occasionally they just wouldn't move no matter how hard he fought them. He couldn't eject, he couldn't blow the canopy, he couldn't undo his straps. He would wake up in a cold sweat, and sometimes he woke up screaming.

Oddest of all were the happy dreams. The dreams could be anywhere at any time. It could be winter in New Hampshire or summer on Okinawa, or even scuba diving on the reef of New Caledonia. The dreams were peaceful, and relaxing and always ended with a woman saying, "I want to have your baby."

Dennis stayed away from public beaches. He just wanted to look at the ocean, but going in it had no appeal to him. He hiked inland, following trails through the forests and into the mountains, and from up there where there was fresh water and fruit trees he could watch the ocean from a safe distance. On Fridays he would pack a lunch, take a bottle of wine and hike up to a spot the locals called Vue sur l'océan, which simply meant Ocean View. He would take the main hiking path up the mountain from the equally limply named Parc Forestier (Forest Park).

Parc Forestier is the last place on earth where a tourist could see actual Segway self-balancing two-wheel personal propulsion devices in the wild. They roam silently through vast forests at Parc Forestier, conveying tourists and gardes d'forestiers (park rangers) looking for a 110-volt outlet to soothe their appetites.

Dennis ignored the tourists and headed up an advanced path up the mountain. As the forest grew deeper, he found an area of exposed boulders, and he left the path and hiked across the exposed boulders, which took him to a hidden path through the thickest part of the jungle. It was truly wild and primitive in that area, filled with flowers of all kinds and was a birdwatcher's paradise.

Most of the birds didn't impress Dennis; he just considered them to be "Tweety Birds" but the odd and colorful birds were worth the watch. There was a fruit dove with a bright red belly that was unique to New Caledonia. Then there was the Cloven Feathered Dove, a dove with bold green plumage, but its belly and the underside of its tail was bright yellow - a natural Green Bay Packer fan. Then there was the blue-gray Cagou, a chubby flightless bird that wandered through the forests of New Caledonia. There were several types of parakeets squawking back in the trees, and occasionally one would eye him up from the branches as he passed underneath.

Finally, he would reach Vue sur l'océan. It was just a grassy clearing at the top of a cliff off a little-known hiking path, but the view of the ocean was spectacular from up there. He would break out lunch, usually bread and cheese, some fruit, and a bottle of wine. In the silent, peaceful contemplation, he would reflect on the horror his life had become while he watched the distant sparkling ocean. He knew he was still irreparably shattered because every time he saw something of beauty or awe, he would wonder if Melony would enjoy it as much as he did.

"I want to have your baby."

"Pardonnez-moi?"

Her voice was sure and beautiful, and Dennis was confident Melony would say, "Dude, go for it! If you don't, I will." He turned and looked at the woman who had uttered those words. She was as beautiful as the image her voice stirred up in Dennis's mind. Dark blond hair, playful brown eyes, high cheekbones, a tiny nose and pointed chin. She was wearing a blouse that was tied off beneath her breasts. "Pardon mademoiselle?"

"Est-ce que je l'ai bien dit?" (Did I say it right?) she said with a nervous smile. "I want to have your baby. Voilà comment dire à un Américain qu'on s'intéresse à lui. Non?" (That's how to tell an American man you are interested in him. No?)

Dennis fought the urge to burst out laughing. Someone had played a prank on this girl. Her New Caledonia accent made her sound sweet, provincial, and innocent. An innocent country girl raised in a paradise far from the pains of a world gone mad, where a man would rape and poison a woman and ruin the lives of everyone around her because he was too stupid to remain faithful to his own wife. "Yes, that would indeed tell an American man you were interested in him, how did you know I'm an American?" said Dennis, trying to soften the edges of his French so she didn't think he was a Parisian snob. Then again, isn't snob just a way of saying Parisian?

"I see you hiking here every Friday and my roommate serves you a beer every Wednesday at Le Bout du Monde. She says you need a friend." She suddenly caught herself. "I mean..."

"That's ok," chuckled Dennis, and he took a plastic wine glass out of his pack and poured her a glass of wine. "I am Dennis Howe, I work for the American Embassy in Suva, we have an extension office here in Nouméa. I am an American but I also have a French citizenship."

"I am Séraphine Lévesque, a legal secretary and a Caldoche." Caldoche is the name given to inhabitants of New Caledonia of European origin who have been settled in New Caledonia since the 19th century. They shook hands, and she sat down on the blanket, and Dennis broke out the cheese, bread and apples. They spent the afternoon snacking, sipping wine, and talking, and looking into each other's eyes. "What brings you to le Caillou?" Séraphine asked, using the nickname for New Caledonia.

Dennis gave her a rueful smile. He realized that there's no sense in lying or even hiding the truth. "A woman," he said.

"Isn't that always the way," said Séraphine sadly. "Do you still love her?"

"Yes, there is love, but more important, there is respect and admiration." When he said that, Séraphine perked up. "She was my flight lead, my boss, le patron. My job was to fly along side of her, and when she went in on the attack, I was there to protect her as she fought."

"Fly? Fight? Protect?" Séraphine looked confused. "Armée de l'air?"

"Oui, Armée de l'air des États-Unis (Yes, United States Air Force.)" said Dennis. "I flew F-15 eagles. Melony, Paul, and I were a team. We cared for each other; we were together always."

"Who is Paul?"

"Her husband, we were best friends."

The fact that Melony had a husband eased Séraphine's nerves. "Sounds like a unique relationship, what happened?"

He told her the story of Melony's death, his bird strike and ejecting over the ocean, his rescue, his surgeries and finally returning to Kadena to find Paul gone. Then the years of investigating and researching until Melony's killer was brought to justice. "When the verdict came back guilty and Melony's killer was sent to prison, I was relieved, but I had nothing. My life had no meaning and my parents didn't want a lonely son in their perfect house, so Senator Kroc arranged this job, and here I am. Were you born here?"

"Oui, my great grandfather sent his family here in 1914 and said he would follow... but, he died at Verdun." She sipped her wine and asked, "What was it like growing up in America?"

"I don't know, I grew up in France."

"You did?" To many Caldoche, France was the promised land, the land of wine and history.

"Oui, when I was young my mother sent me off to live with her brother and his wife. I was in the way of the lifestyle they wanted to have. I returned home when I was eighteen and they shipped me off to the Academy. After I put Melony's killer in prison, I returned home, and they shipped me off here."

Séraphine looked at Dennis and said, "Hmm... I'm starting to see a pattern forming."

They fell into each other's arms, laughing, and from that day forward, Séraphine Levesque was Dennis Howe's confidante, companion, and life coach. She was always there with a cheerful smile and an encouraging quote.

<><><><><>

"So, you are the yank that has taken my Séraphine's heart," said Pierre Lévesque as he shook hands with Dennis. As they met, Séraphine and her mother, Valériane, watched nervously. Pierre had a habit of scaring off young men that Séraphine brought by.

"Taken? No. That would imply theft and impropriety. I believe I have won her heart, fair and square."

Pierre smiled and said to Dennis, "Walk with me," and he led Dennis out the back of their airy house into a tropical garden where fountains splashed, birds chirped and squawked, and a pond full of brightly colored koi swam in lazy circles. The plants and flowers were glorious, and Pierre led Dennis to a pavilion in the back that was hidden by the flora. As they entered the pavilion, the sprinklers came on, and the sound of drops of water spattering on broad leaves filled the air.

The pavilion was marvelous and ornate, a beautiful structure. Over the past year, Dennis heard Séraphine mention this pavilion twice. The first time was almost a year ago as they were learning about each other. The second time was a couple of weeks ago when they discussed places to get married.

"Séraphine tells me you're a member of the Groupe d'intervention de la Gendarmerie Nationale," said Dennis. The GIGN, as it's known, is an international French SWAT team that was formed after the Munich massacre at the 1972 Olympics.

"Ah, that is not for public consumption," said Pierre. "To my friends and neighbors, I am but a gear in the government machine."

"I understand," said Dennis. "I suspected this was a SCIF area for... shall we say, shop talk?"

"What gave it away?" asked Pierre with a large grin.

"The irrigation. It's a white noise generator, is it not? Is it here to hide conversations?"

"Well done Lieutenant Howe. It's obvious you were not a frat-boy at the academy."

"I have a degree in aeronautical engineering. I designed two glide bombs. One is very stealthy. One hundred fifty kilos and it deploys wings to glide to target. Over the target it deploys a parachute to stop the glide, it drops the wings and when it's oriented properly it releases the parachute and drops to target."

"And the other one?"

"Oh, it's the same thing but it's not stealthy. It's for targets that aren't prepared for a glide bomb attack. Now imagine this - a B-52 drops fifty one of these. Seven are not stealthy. Our enemy shoots down the seven that were heading for point A, and were too busy to notice the 44 on their way to point B."

"But will it work mon ami?"

"Doesn't matter, I got a patent for the design, that's all that mattered to me."

Pierre chuckled and opened a fridge and pulled out a cold Molson's Golden beer and handed it to Dennis. "Molson's Golden? Is this what we call a perk in America?"

"Absolutely!" said Pierre in perfect English. They opened their beers and took long drafts in the warm, muggy weather. The sprinklers were still spraying the plants, which told Dennis that Pierre still wanted to talk. "My friend. I have a feeling that someday soon you will ask for my daughter's hand in marriage..."

"Mister Levesque, I want you to know that I will never ask for your daughter's hand, I will never ask for your permission to marry Séraphine. I love Séraphine with all my heart, and if I ask for her hand, or for your permission, and you say no, I can't marry her. Instead, I will ask for your blessing."

A thousand versions of anger crossed Pierre's face as he considered Dennis's plan. "And if I say no?"

Dennis shrugged his shoulders. "So what? You're not the pope."

Pierre laughed long and loud. "Mister Howe, you're going to be a good husband for my Séraphine. May I ask a favor?"

"Anything, sir."

"Sometime after the wedding, I may hand you plane tickets, I need you to visit your parents. Move in for a while. Show Séraphine what America is all about."

"Yes sir, I will do it if you need it," but inside his head he was screaming, "What the fuck?"

<><><><><>

After months of begging, Séraphine was able to get Dennis to go snorkeling with her. He was nervous, but she led him into the lagoon, and there they found some amazing sights. Even splashing along on the surface, Dennis was able to see corals of all forms and colors. He was assaulted by colors -- reds, purples, blues and greens, all bright and vibrant. Gold and orange anthias darted in and out of the branch coral, parrotfish crunched on coral and converted it to sand, and graceful brightly colored butterfly fish delicately explored the reef. Sea stars and sea cucumbers slowly march across the reef while hermit crabs and lobsters pick here and there for their dinners.

As he splashed along, watching sleek, sexy Séraphine dive among the fish, he watched a green turtle swim between him and Séraphine and marveled at the creature. Then his focus shifted to Séraphine. She was about ten feet below him and was so beautiful. His heart almost burst. From that moment forward, anytime she wanted to go snorkeling, he followed. They snorkeled the coral reefs, the mangrove forests and the seagrass meadows. As long as he could see the surface of the water and the bottom of the ocean, he was fine. It was when they got into deeper water that he grew leery.

Their Friday ritual of meeting at Vue sur l'océan after Séraphine got off work continued. Sometimes lunch was simple, like the day they met. At other times, Dennis would bring a basket with a delicious meal from one of the finest restaurants in Nouméa. The meals eventually ended with Dennis and Séraphine feasting on each other. They both knew they were going to marry, and they wanted to wait until their marriage, but after a year of dating, oral sex was no longer enough. As the sun dropped lower on the horizon in the distance, they slipped into the 69 position and lovingly stimulated each other to a mind-shattering climax for Séraphine.

"My love, I can no longer wait," she said, and she got up, turned around, and lowered herself onto Dennis's throbbing manhood. She soon climaxed again, then one more time with Dennis as he exploded in her warm depths.

"I think I'm going to have to ask your father for his blessing," said Dennis as they lay panting.

They went snorkeling the next day. They took a paddleboard out into the lagoon and splashed around happily, Dennis pointing out all the interesting things he saw. Occasionally he would pick up a bit of trash -- a plastic bag, an empty beer can -- and when they surfaced he would put it in a floating net bag that they carried for such occasions. When they finished their dives, they got up on the paddleboard and, as always, Dennis went through their finds. "A San Miguel beer can, I didn't know you could still get that. I think this is a swimming cap, and this... I don't know." He handed her a small ring box.

Séraphine opened the box, and in there was a bright golden ring with a 3/4 karat diamond. Not too big to be gaudy, and not too small to be missed. She looked at the ring and then looked at Dennis. "Who would toss this..." Then, from the look on his face, she realized someone didn't toss it in the ocean.

"My darling Séraphine, I fell in love with you the moment we met up on Vue sur l'océan. You brought me back to life my dear Séraphine and I can no longer consider a life without you." He took the ring from the box and held it by her finger and said, "my love, would you do me the honor of becoming my partner, my lover, my wife?"

"Oui!" she cried as Dennis slid the ring on her finger. "Lets go tell maman!"

Dennis didn't forget the promise he made to Pierre, but he prayed that Pierre forgot.

<><><><><>֍<><><><><>

"Where's this meeting at?" asked Josh as he drove Veronica's Lincoln Navigator to Rochester. They left right after work on a Friday, and Josh worried about Tigger the entire trip. It would be the first time Tigger was alone in the house for two days.

"The Inn on Main Street," said Veronica.

"Which inn on Main Street?" asked Josh.

Veronica looked at her notes, and then she checked her phone. "The Inn on Main Street, that's its name."

"Someone probably paid a consulting fee some big bucks to come up with that gem. Just as long as it's on Main Street." They soon found the big red brick building. It appeared to be an old factory of some sort and was built in the days before affordable electric lights, so the windows were huge to let in lots of natural light. The ceilings were also high to fight the heat in the summer.

They checked in and went up to their room, which was a large room with a small bar, dinette, living room and a king-size bed. "Let's clean up, they're waiting for us," said Veronica.

"Does that mean we should shower together?" asked Josh.

"Let's just freshen up and save that for later."

They soon headed downstairs, and Veronica found the way to the hotel restaurant. The maître d' led them to a side room, and rather than a room full of annoying businessmen, there was a small family in there -- husband, wife, and three children. The oldest of the children, a pretty blond girl, shouted, "Uncle Josh!" and she dashed to him, throwing her arms around him.

Josh was confused, but he recognized her. "Lana?"

"Come home Uncle Josh!" she cried, looking up at Josh.

He looked at the couple again, and there was no way he could mistake her. That blond hair, those big brown eyes, that unintentionally sexy smile and compact figure -- she was his favorite car salesman. And he was tall, slim, and handsome, his first voice coach. "Deanna! Rod!" The couple rose and hugged Josh. "I'm so sorry I left," he mumbled. "I'm sorry I left, I miss you guys so much, but I couldn't stay. There's too many memories." He couldn't handle watching the gunships pass overhead from Hurlburt Field, knowing the pain he suffered on that last mission, and knowing that he'll never fly again. Losing his friends Craig Zigler and Wayne Engler, and maybe even Wyatt Grady. Yesenia's betrayal, and her baby Mateo. And then cancer and being thrown out. It was too much to bear.

"It's ok," said Deanna. "We understand. Now introduce us." Deanna drew back and somehow Josh ended up with the child she had been holding.

"I suspect you already know," said Josh. "This is the woman I love most dearly... Veronica von Köster, these are the people who saved my life at least once, Rod and Deanna Daniels, and this is the biggest five-year-old in Florida, Lana..."

"I'm ten!"

"... and her baby brother Connor, who clearly doesn't remember me." The eight-year-old shook his head no. "That's ok, guy. And this, is Alfonse," he said, bouncing the child in his arms.

"She's Faith!" shouted Lana and Connor.

"You're the reason I left Florida so late, aren't you? " Faith just smiled and nodded her adorable head. "That was rough times, I was doing chemo, Deanna was laid up she had just had runt-butt here, and Rod was playing Super-dad."

"Oh? How did you meet?" asked Veronica.

"Deanna found me after I came home to the worst homecoming a suicidal GI ever got and sold me a truck. Then Rod gave me a voice... and..." He fought back the tears, but continued. "They waited for me to come back from Korea, and they waited for me to come back from the Mayo... how did you put up with me through all that chemo?"

"It was ok, you are always welcome, and so is Miss Veronica," said Rod.

They sat and talked through dinner about past accomplishments, future plans, and Josh's barbershop quartet. Deanna tried to talk Josh into a new Dodge Ram, but he wasn't in the market. "Spartacus is exactly the truck I've always wanted."

After dinner, they retired to Josh and Veronica's suite and talked late into the night. Rod was there in Rochester for a ministers' conference, and Deanna called Josh to tell him their plans when the meeting was set, but Veronica picked up his phone while he was busy down in the basement. They conspired to set up this 'meeting.' "I honestly thought this was a work meeting, she's been having so many of them lately," said Josh.

"You never even asked," said Veronica with a laugh.

"So did you tell her everything?" asked Deanna.

"Almost," said Josh.

"You told her about Christy?" asked Rod.

"Oh yes, she's even met Colonel Christy. She and Emory were up here visiting her folks in Lockport this summer, before the baby was born."

"You told her everything about Christy?" asked Deanna.

"Yes," said Josh. "Every painful bit."

"He even gave me a similar ride on Grandpa," said Veronica with a smile, and to emphasize the type of ride she was talking about, she adjusted a couple of buttons on her blouse.

"We ended up getting ice cream. We got lucky later," said Josh as Faith fell asleep in his arms.

"He had a way of putting her to sleep when she was a newborn," said Deanna. "Even sick from chemo he was able to relax her. Then she asked, "Did you tell Veronica about our previous occupations?"

"You mean the brack ghost? No." Josh couldn't say it with a straight face.

"Black ghost?" asked Veronica.

"Black ghost!" cried Connor.

Lana flipped to a photo on her tablet and said, "Connor used to say momma was dressing like a black ghost." She showed the photo of Deanna in a nun's habit to Veronica, who looked at the photo and chuckled.

"That's quite a costume. Very accurate."

"It's real," said Josh, Deanna and Rod.

"Is this real?" gasped Veronica.

"Show her the next one," said Deanna.

Lana handed Veronica the tablet again, and there was a priest in full Sunday vestments gazing into the eyes of the pretty nun. "That was after my first mass at Saint Gerome's," said Rod. "We were married and Lutherans within a year."

"Wow," gasped

"Now, show us your contest videos!" gushed Deanna.

Josh set up the laptop and showed Rod and Deanna the videos of the Gentlemen's Disagreement's final contest. "That reminds me," he said as Rod and Deanna watched their friend's quartet belt out their Buffalo style version of 'Country Roads'. "We have practice on Tuesday night."

"Practice? You have a show coming up?"

"Several, it's Christmas season."

<><><><><>

Not long after they arrived in the Howe household, Séraphine gave birth to a baby boy, whom they named Chamonix. He was born in June, just in time for mother Séraphine and father Dennis's first wedding anniversary. The little lad was born at Portsmouth Regional Hospital on June 17th, two days after their anniversary. Grandparents Gillford and Solène Howe were too busy to come up for the birth of their first grandchild, but Grandparents Pierre and Valériane Lévesque were online for the live stream of the baby's birth.

Chamonix, or Cholly as his father Dennis called him, was a sweet, peaceful baby with his mother's huge loving eyes and his father's handsome features. His first year of life was perfect. Living in the beautiful New Hampshire countryside, it was picturesque Yankee America, New England at its finest. Cholly would never remember, but there were photographs a-plenty to share. Grandma and Grandpa Levesque had a digital frame in their bedroom, and almost every day a new picture of Cholly would pop up on their frame.

Séraphine Lévesque-Howe actually loved the move to New Hampshire. Her in-laws had two residences in New Hampshire, and they could use either home as they wished. Their primary home was in Portsmouth; their summer getaway was in Wolfeboro, on Lake Winnipesaukee, but the little family rarely saw Dennis's parents, who had an enormous apartment in Georgetown in the District of Columbia, where they spent most of their time.

Yes, Séraphine missed the ocean, but Portsmouth wasn't far from the sea, and she found the North Atlantic differed greatly from the South Pacific. The cuisine differed markedly from that of New Caledonia, but Dennis guided her, and she learned about the melting pot that was North American cuisine.

Another thing that Séraphine loved was snow. Her first Christmas in North America was magical. She loved playing in the snow and taking long horse-drawn sleigh rides through the New Hampshire countryside. Shopping in the decorated shops in Portsmouth was wonderful, but the little village of Wolfeboro was incredible. The entire village was decorated with lights and garlands. "Can we celebrate Noel here in Wolfeboro?" asked Séraphine.

"Mother wants us to come to Washington to celebrate with them," said Dennis.

"Merd," groaned Séraphine. She's been to Gillford and Solène's Georgetown apartment, and it was like another wing of the Smithsonian. With so many pieces of art and rare items, it was not a place for an eighteen month old toddler like Chamonix. Dennis and Cholly play a lot, and things get knocked over. Dennis had hoped that Chamonix would cause his mother, Solène, to loosen up and become human, but that was not to be. She remained a political beast, and she seemed to disdain being a grandmother. Dennis worked hard with little Cholly teaching him to call Grandmother Solène 'Mamie' which he learned, but she hated being called that.

They were in an old barn that had been converted into a store, and it was bathed in Christmas finery. "I never know what to get your mother," sighed Séraphine. "She is so stern and picky." She was looking at a figurine of a dolphin and scuba diver.

"That is perfect," said Dennis.

"Will she like it?"

"No, she won't like anything I touched. But it's the thought that counts," said Dennis as he teased Cholly with a plush Santa Claus. "Darling, I want to go home."

"I'm almost done shopping, one more thing for your father," said Séraphine.

"No, I want to go home-home. Back to the island."

Séraphine didn't pause. "Mon papa asked for two years. He just wants to make sure Senator Kroc is honest."

"He should be in prison," whispered Dennis.

Dennis had an administrative position with Senator Alvin Kroc, a well-paying job with few responsibilities, similar to the job he had at the American embassy extension office in Nouméa. It paid well for what little he did, and that was on top of his disability pay. There was another job he had that they rarely spoke of, and Séraphine was involved with it as well.

They were working undercover for the Groupe d'intervention de la Gendarmerie Nationale for Séraphine's father, Pierre Lavesque. Pierre was known to the other GIGN troops as "le Commandant," and Dennis was known as l'aigle, the eagle, and Séraphine was known as le moineau, the sparrow. Twice a month, Dennis would take Séraphine and Cholly to dinner at Clara Bow's, a seafood restaurant on the waterfront in beautiful Portsmouth. Quite often they would take Bình Nga, the Vietnamese nanny that Dennis's mother Solène insisted on hiring. At least she spoke French.

There at Clara Bow's, Dennis and his family would sit in a booth and watch the fishing boats move about the harbor, and over on the other side of the harbor they could see the big RORO (Roll-On Roll-Off) vehicle carriers. "What did you do at work?" asked Séraphine. She's trying to learn English, but they will go back to New Caledonia in February, so why bother now?

"Oh, I took a call from the President and helped him set up a peace conference between Russia and NATO," said Dennis as he peeled a shrimp and popped it into Séraphine's mouth.

"Did you really?" she gasped.

"No. I did schedule an oil change for the senator's Rolls Royce however."

"You!" gasped Séraphine, and she gave him a playful swat, which caused Cholly and Binh Nga to laugh. What went unnoticed was the reaction of the fellow at the bar when he heard the French word Vidange which in English is "Oil Change." After Dennis and his family left, the fellow at the bar had a friend sit next to him.

"We going to eat at the bar?" asked the friend.

"No, let's take a booth." And they sat in the booth that Dennis and family had just vacated. The two fellows had a couple of beers and a bucket of mussels, and they discussed what every man in New Hampshire was discussing - what the hell had happened to the New England Patriots? When they were done, they tipped the waitress, then FBI agent Josey Kersey took the envelope that Dennis had taped to the underside of the table and left.

<><><><><>

"Ok, Sandy and Madeline, are you ready for show and tell?" asked Missus Zimmerman. This was the highlight of their week, Show and Tell. They loved to bring something, usually someone they admired or found interesting, and Sandy would tell one side of the story and Madeline would tell another side of the story. Meanwhile, their Show and Tell subject would tell their side of the story.

Weeks ago, Josh was the subject of their Show and Tell. Sandy paraded his Medal of Honor around the room calling it "the greatest medal in the world... and the Air Force!" and told her fellow students, "when he has babies they can go to the Air Force School!" among other things. When Josh was done correcting Sandy, it was Madeline's turn, and she informed everyone about his gunship.

Veronica recorded the entire performance, posted it on Facebook, and sent a link to everyone at Andalon Data Systems. Josh got grief from his co-workers for weeks over that.

This was payback.

Josh took his position at the back of the classroom and raised his phone to record the fun. "Who wants to go first?" asked Mrs. Zimmerman. She learned the hard way that the twins almost always do a joint Show and Tell presentation and that they have a very specific way of doing it. It's best just to call them both up, step back, and watch the fun.

Madeline led Veronica to the front of the classroom. "This is Miss Veronica. She's a very important lady. She works with Mister Josh and sometimes she's his boss." Veronica was clearly confused. She mentioned once in passing that as a company officer she outranks Josh, and somehow the twins decided she's in charge. "She lives just up the street from us, and she lives in the same house that Josh..." suddenly the realization hit the twins at the same time. "HEY!"

Sandy stomped to the back of the classroom and looked up at Josh and demanded, "YOU NEED TO BE MARRIED!"

"Ok, I'll put that on my to-do list," said Josh.

Sandy stomped back to the front of the class and continued. "Miss Veronica has a BMA from the state of Ohio!"

"It's an MBA from Ohio State University," corrected Veronica.

Madeline continued. "She was a cheerio!" and Sandy held up a portrait of Veronica in her Ohio State cheerleader's outfit. "She was almost Miss America!" shouted Madeline, and Sandy held up a portrait of Veronica in her gown wearing her Miss Ohio sash.

"But most of all," said Sandy, "She's a dancing girl!" and the twins started doing their interpretation of the twist.

"My pageant talent was ballroom dance," said Veronica.

"When she practices with Mister Mitch, she dances around in my Uncle John's bedroom!" said Sandy cheerfully. She didn't mention that while Uncle John was injured, his bedroom was an enormous room known as the library at their house.

"Wait a minute!" cried Veronica.

"Oh, I want to hear this," said Mrs. Zimmerman.

"And she wears sexy dresses," said Madeline and Sandy held up a portrait of Veronica in her modeling days posing in a black velvet dress with a beautiful black woman in a similar dress. "That's my Aunt Macy, I don't think she dances."

"You're loving this aren't you," said Veronica to Josh.

"Every minute of it."

"But the most important thing she does is give away babies!" said Sandy.

"For free!" cried Madeline.

"I help couples adopt babies and I help arrange funding."

"She and Unka Josh raised seven million dollars for giving away babies and cancer."

"What did you say?" asked Mrs. Zimmerman.

"Josh and I were able to raise seventeen million dollars for Adoption Advocates and for Roswell Park Cancer Institute."

"Oh my," gushed Mrs. Zimmerman. "How did you do that?"

Veronica smiled and shrugged. "We had a chicken barbeque, welcomed some prominent local businessmen and did a little old fashioned arm twisting."

"She's really good at twisting," said Sandy as she and Madeline started dancing again.

<><><><><>

FBI agent Josey Kersey looked at the package of information that was under the table at Clara Bow's. It came from the source named l'aigle and clearly said that the MV Dakota Hustle was sending several high-end Japanese cars to Linwood Ford/Lincoln near the vehicle loading pier in Portsmouth Harbor. "Fuck," he whispered hoarsely. "The MV Dakota Hustle, where is she now?"

His partner, Fernando Alverez, brought up the website Marinetraffic.com and searched for the Dakota Hustle. "She's in Jacksonville anchorage. The website claims it will head our way in the morning."

"Why is it in Jacksonville Anchorage?" wondered Kersey. He peered over Fernando Alverez's shoulder and saw that it was at anchor with several other mid-size Roll-On, Roll-Off cargo carriers. There was a smaller boat with them marked as a cargo vessel, the CV Anvil. "What do you think?" asked Josey.

Fernando refreshed the screen, and the Anvil moved closer to another of the RORO ships, the MV Dakota Dawn. "It's got to be a cargo transfer," said Fernando.

Josey looked at the copied pages from a notebook that the GIGN agent had left behind at the restaurant. It was confusing, but it clearly said that the Dakota Hustle was taking on food. "I'm going to be mighty pissed when it gets here and there's no cargo on board, just sandwiches." Josey was sure there was at least a metric ton of fentanyl coming in on the Dakota Hustle. He looked at the documents they picked up at Clara Bow's again. "The GIGN insists they're taking on food... that can only mean there's live bodies in this cargo."

"What do we do?" asked Fernando.

"Notify the troops. We have reasonable suspicion that they're smuggling humans."

Fernando opened his laptop and prepared to send a coded email to several agencies. Before he sent the message, he asked, "You have someone in the John-Dahms?" Nobody in the FBI said Groupe d'intervention de la Gendarmerie Nationale. They said GIGN, gig-N, or John-Dahms, which was poorly pronounced Gendarme.

"No, the gig-N has someone inside Slow Cooker that is sharing with us." Slow Cooker was the FBI's code name for Senator Kroc.

"Cool," said Fernando as he sent the message. "Now the good news The Dakota Hustle won't be in Portsmouth until Linwood Ford/Lincoln becomes Jarecki Motors."

Josey grinned. Changing management is always a confusing time, and they want to bring in their shipment in the middle of this? Perfection! "We'll have this thing cleaned up in time for the new owner to do his inspection tour."

<><><><><>

Meanwhile, in Nouméa, New Caledonia, Pierre and Valériane Lévesque checked the mail and found a Christmas card from America that was sent by their daughter. Inside were a few photographs of Séraphine and Chamonix. "I cannot wait to see the baby," sighed Valériane.

"Lemme see!" cried Séraphine's younger sister Marcelline. Meanwhile, Pierre and Valériane's youngest daughter, seventeen-year-old Josianne, looked at the digital frame that hung in the Levesque living room.

"Who is that?" asked Josianne, and she pointed to the frame. It was showing a picture of Dennis when he was in the military. He was standing next to a red-haired woman. They were wearing flight suits, G-suits, and harnesses. Both were carrying their flight helmets, and they were standing in front of a fighter aircraft.

"That is Dennis when he flew and that was his flight lead, I think her name was Melony," said Valériane.

"The picture isn't changing," said Josianne, and she was right. Instead of changing every 30 seconds, this was the only picture showing.

Pierre's blood turned to ice. That wasn't a photo; it was a call for help. Within a week of that photograph being shot, Melony was dead, and Dennis had ejected into the wide-open South Pacific and was thought to be dead. "I need to make some calls," said Pierre, and he disappeared into his home office. He needed to reach out to the FBI.

<><><><><>֍<><><><><>

Dennis finished his day at Senator Kroc's office in Manchester. There was a notebook that the Senator or one of his aides left in Dennis's office that had become a wealth of information regarding the Senator and illegal shipments of drugs and women into the United States. Once you figured out the simple code they used, it read like an Andrew Klavan crime novel. The senator's buddy and business partner, Oliver Linwood, had a car dealership in Portsmouth, NH, that they used for cover for their smuggling operations. Dennis wasn't sure how it happened. There were no details on how their side business worked, but if Dennis had a guess, the cars came to Linwood Ford/Lincoln with all the accessories, including a hundred pounds of opium.

It was a basic Moleskin notebook that Dennis handled with latex gloves. However, when he realized that his father-in-law was right, that they were bringing in young women and boys also, Dennis decided it was time to get out. He put a picture of himself and Melony on the digital frame and told Séraphine to pack a bag for Cholly. "We will be heading out for Noel when I get home."

"No clothing for us?"

"It's Christmas!" he said, allowing Séraphine to think they would get their clothes in Washington, where they had planned to spend Christmas. He just didn't want to be seen leaving the house with anything more than a baby bag.

After the call, he hung up and took the notebook and carefully put it in a plastic zip-lock sandwich bag and put that in his backpack. He had thought of replacing the notebook with a blank notebook, but that would signal to the senator that someone had the evidence of all his misdeeds. If he just took it, the notebook would be forgotten and eventually lost. Hopefully, the search would start after they got to New Caledonia.

Dennis came home to the Wolfeboro home, and screaming filled the air. Cholly was shrieking in pain at the top of his lungs, and Séraphine was shouting at someone. He followed the sound of the screaming into the nursery, and there was little Cholly, his beautiful little boy, shrieking in agony. He wasn't wearing pants or a diaper, and the back of his butt and legs were covered with horizontal stripes from a whipping. Séraphine was shouting at an Asian woman who was holding an extension cord.

"Espèce de con! Comment oses-tu toucher mon fils comme ça?" (You cunt! How dare you touch my son like this?) screamed Séraphine.

"Speak English, bitch," said the Asian woman with a sneer.

"Darling, take Cholly and put ointment on him and give him one baby aspirin. Let me deal with this person."

"Je vais lui couper la tête!" (I will cut her head off!) wept Séraphine, as she gently picked up Cholly and carried him into her bedroom.

Then Dennis turned to the woman and grabbed the extension cord away from her. "Qui es-tu?" (Who are you?)

"Speak English asshole," she sneered.

Quick as lightning, Dennis slugged her in the gut, and as she doubled over in pain, he grabbed a handful of her black hair and yanked her head back. "Ok, I asked nice, now I'm done playing. Who the fuck are you?"

"Binh Nga was sick so I'm covering for her," said the woman.

"I said, WHO ARE YOU!" shouted Dennis and raised the extension cord to whip her.

"Vinh Thi!" shrieked the woman. "I work for Madam Howe."

Dennis guessed that she was Vietnamese from her accent and from his mother's insistence on hiring Vietnamese women who can speak French. Most are reliable, but when his parents, Gillford and Solène, were out of town, some became real jerks. He was about to let her go when she swung a knife at him. Dennis caught her knife arm with ease and twisted her wrist back until she dropped the knife. He picked up the knife and held it in front of her face while still holding her by the hair. "If I ever see you in this house again, I will slice you a hundred times and pour salt in every wound. Is that plain enough English? Is it?"

"Yes."

"YES WHAT?" roared Dennis as he touched her nose with the knife.

"Yes sir."

"Damn straight, bitch," and he frog-marched her through the house and to the front door where he pitched her into a snowbank wearing only a light dress and bedroom slippers. "Tu es virée, salope... that means you're fired bitch."

<><><><><>

Every day while the twins were in school, Andi would put Danny in his little sled and she would walk the five blocks to Macy's house with her mom Heather and their governess Yi, or Macy would load Katarina into her little wooden sled and Macy would walk to Andi's house where Macy taught Andi to knit and to sing. Andi had complimented Macy on her singing, so Macy offered to teach Andi to sing. "What would you rather learn to sing," started Macy. "Minuit Chrétien? Or would you rather learn to sing Cantique de Noël?"

"I want to sing Cantique de Noël. I want to sing a Christmas song."

"Wise choice," said Macy as she tried not to laugh. They're both the same song. "This is a very important song. Every Christmas eve at midnight, all across the French-speaking world, we come together to sing Cantique de Noël."

"How do you get everyone to sing it at the same time?" asked Yi.

"We all go to Midnight mass. Listen..." Macy played the song on their piano, a beautiful upright grand, then she sang.

Minuit, chrétiens, c'est l'heure solennelle...

"I know that song, it's O Holy Night!" said Andi.

"Oui, in French it is Minuit, Chrétiens or Cantique de Noël and I sing it to start the candlelight service at church and at home. You said that you can read music, am I right?" asked Macy.

"I can understand it. I know a whole note and a half note and a quarter note and a rest and stuff like that," said Andi. "But if you point to a note on the page and say, 'sing it' I can't do it."

"Ok, here," and she put sheet music on a music stand and put it in front of Andi. Where Macy saw the French Minuit, chrétiens, C'est l'heure solennelle... Andi's page had phonetic spellings of the words:

Mee-nwee cray-tee-un say hayer sola na la... "Now sing along with me," said Macy, and she started playing.

A couple of minutes later, Andi gushed, "I sang French!"

"One more time, from the top," said Macy and this time Yi joined Andi and began singing the phonetic French. Hearing Yi singing next to her helped Andi hit the notes. "Marvelous!" cried Macy as they completed a third time through the song.

"I'm no judge but you three sounded wonderful!" gushed Heather. "And the babies loved it!" Katarina and Danny sat up in their carriers and paid attention to the music.

"The phonetics are so cool! How did you come up with this?"

"This is how I taught non-French speaking students to sing at École de Théologie Évangélique du Québec. Tomorrow we practice knitting and singing at your house?"

The three of them began singing together. Their singing became quite good. Macy had a voice like an angel sent to earth to teach opera. Yi was also quite talented. Andi had never really sung before, but she learned to hit a note and hold it, which was the most important part.

They celebrated Saint Nicholas Day together at Macy and John's house. Andi and Paul brought Andi's folks, Heather and Harold, along with.

Saint Nicholas Day was a distinctly Polish/Eastern European holiday. Veronica never celebrated it, and Josh never heard of it. They spent the day in their cabin, hiding from the rest of the world. "Are you OK?" asked Veronica.

"Yes and no," said Josh.

"Tell me yes. What makes you say yes?"

"You're here with me, we're naked, we're snuggling by the fire, we're both in positions at work that we're happy with, we're financially stable..."

"Ok," said Veronica. "What makes you say no?" she began kissing the back of his neck and shoulders.

"You know my life, when things get too good, they suddenly become too bad."

<><><><><>

Dennis and Séraphine took Cholly to the ER, where they bandaged his wounds and reported the woman to the police. As Dennis was answering questions with the police, he received three calls from his mother. He hung up on her twice and finally answered on the third attempt. "What is it mother?"

"You act like you're not happy to hear from me," said Solène in French.

"Mother," said Dennis sternly. "That whore you hired whipped Chamonix, and now he's terrified to take a bath, she scalded him! What did she do, try to boil him for lunch?"

"A hot bath is good for a child; I can't help it if you raised a weakling." Dennis stared at the phone in his hand, shocked at what he had heard. The woman who gave birth to him said that? It explains why after months of surgery and therapy after ejecting at sea, they never reached out to him. Not even an email. He looked at his phone in shock, and could hear her say, "Dennis? Are you there?" in French. She spoke English only to American politicians. He didn't say a word; he shut off his phone and put it in the wastepaper basket as they walked out of the ER.

Cholly was still whimpering. His butt and feet were scalded from the blazing hot bath that sick piece of shit Vinh Thi dropped him in, then whipped him for crying. Anger boiled in Dennis's veins as he drove back to the house. "What do we do?" wept Séraphine.

"We go home," said Dennis. They packed a bag for Cholly, turned off Séraphine's phone and threw it in the trash, then Dennis took two "burner" phones out of a wardrobe and handed one to Séraphine. They got back in the car and drove to Manchester and left the car in a parking lot with the keys in the ignition and walked four blocks to the Amtrack station. Dennis paid for two tickets to Boston, which didn't take very long. From Boston, they traveled to Buffalo.

"We fly from here?" asked Séraphine.

"No, not right away." Dennis showed her a text from her father that said something was happening and all of New Hampshire would soon freak out. He was arranging a safe house for them to lie low in, and it would be near friends. They sat in the Depew, NY, train station and let Cholly sit on a pile of snow; it soothed his burned butt.

"Mister and Missus Howe?" asked a man with a short beard and long hair. His partner, a black guy who was dressed as if he were ready for a gang fight, remained quiet.

"The name's Mont-Dore," said Dennis. Mont-Dore is a town outside of Nouméa, New Caledonia; it's actually where Dennis was living when he and Séraphine met.

"Sorry, maybe you know someone named Dumbéa?" asked the black guy. Dumbéa was a town northwest of Nouméa, but more importantly, Mont-Dore was the sign. Dumbéa was the countersign.

"Denny Levesque, GIGN," said Dennis, and he produced an inspector's badge of the Groupe d'intervention de la Gendarmerie Nationale.

"Vic Bronson and Al Stanford FBI" said the black guy, and the two showed their badges. "You are l'aigle and le moineau?"

Dennis nodded when he heard their call signs, so Vic continued. "We got a place near where you said you wanted to be, Springville... You said you wanted to contact a Doctor Jarecki, but there's four doctor Jarecki's in that town."

"I know three of them," said Dennis as they piled into a late-model sedan. "What's going on in New Hampshire?"

"Fuck if I know," said Vic. "Whatever is going on there has the entire Northeast division on alert."

"The Gendarmerie is freaking out too," said Dennis. "Just as long as we're away from it all."

"Trust me. 'It All' has never been anywhere near Springville," chuckled Al, the black guy.

An hour later they pulled up behind what looked like a doublewide trailer with a porch on each end. It was called a 'shotgun house' because you could fire a shotgun from one end to the other; it was dominated by a long hall from the front door to the back. They were let in the back door and said, "Don't go anywhere. We dropped off some groceries and some diapers. The landlady's name is Amelia Hernandez. She's a grouchy old girl, disabled Vietnam veteran."

Just as the FBI was leaving, Vic said, "We built a safe box under the bed. It's a semi-secure place to store things you don't want found." He handed Dennis a cheap key stamped out of sheet steel, and Dennis knew immediately it was for a cheap lockbox. The apartment was tiny. There was a bed, an easy chair, a tiny table for two and two kitchen chairs. There was a shower stall, and a toilet hidden by a privacy panel and an old dresser. "I'm so sorry, darling. This is clearly a horrible mistake."

"We're together, that's all that matters," said Séraphine.

Later in the day, there was a knock on the door that opened to the house, and it was their landlady, Amelia Hernandez. She was old and tiny and had a permanent scowl. She walked with a limp and a steel cane. "I know it's not much, this apartment was built with bachelors in mind, and I don't get a lot of visitors. Is there anything you need?"

"A toy," said Séraphine in broken English.

"We left in a hurry and we didn't bring anything for Cholly to play with," explained Dennis.

"I'll find something, anything else?"

"Do you know John Jarecki?"

"Pastor busybody, yes. Why?"

"If something happens to us could you see that Cholly ends up in..." Dennis started to choke, but Amelia raised a hand to hush him.

"Ain't nothing going to happen, I'll make sure of that," said Amelia.

"Promise me, please," said Dennis.

Amelia sighed and, as if it were the heaviest word in the world, she said, "Promise."

<><><><><>

Josh knocked on Amelia's door. "Hello darling! It's me!"

"Go to hell!" squawked Amelia Hernandez.

"Ah brought your coffee, bread, some prescriptions, and some crawfish."

"Leave 'em on the porch."

"It's freezing out here Captain, let me in. Ah need coffee or ah'll die."

Josh heard shuffling around, and then Amelia opened the front door a crack. "Go away."

"Is that any way to talk to the man that brought you groceries? Ah even brought this," and he produced a small Teddy Bear.

"One cup then go." Josh grinned and carried four bags of groceries into the house. "What's all this?" demanded Amelia. The cranky old nurse hobbled around the kitchen table as Josh took out his purchases and set them out, then folded the paper bags. "Ice cream? I don't need ice cream."

Josh heard footsteps, and Amelia glanced quickly at the back wall of her tiny house. "Mice?" Josh asked.

"Nunya."

"What's a nunya?"

"None ya business."

Josh heard the door squeak, and it opened, and a toddler peeked out at him. Somebody grabbed the little boy and pulled him back, and the door closed. "New roommates?"

"Sargent please," whispered Amelia. "I'm begging. There's nothing here."

"Amy, I worry about you."

"There's nothing to worry about and if you ever call me Amy again I will neuter you." She placed a cup of coffee in front of him and said softly, "If you hear anyone speculating about what is going on here, you let me know immediately."

"As long as you're all right, I'm all right too," said Josh, and he helped her put her groceries away, finished his coffee, then left with no further speculation on what was going on in her house.

He didn't know why, but something worried him horribly, and he was losing sleep over it. It was like he told Veronica, life was going too good, and that's when it goes bad.

"You ok honey?" asked Veronica.

"No. And please... I promised someone I won't talk about it."

"What is it?" Veronica asked.

"Someone dumped a personal secret on me and I promised I wouldn't say anything to anyone."

"Is it something bad?" she asked.

"I don't know."

<><><><><>

It was late. Amelia was in Niagara Falls with a pair of girls from the VFW. All that Dennis and Séraphine knew was that Something Big was going to happen in Portsmouth or it was happening; they didn't know. Dennis kept the laptop tuned to French entertainment on the internet from New Caledonia. Cholly was feeling better; he could sit properly, and he was asleep in a t-shirt and diaper in the middle of the bed.

There was a knock at the door, but Dennis didn't answer it. He gestured to Séraphine to remain quiet. It was late, and it was cold out. "Come on Howe, open up, we know you're in there."

Dennis pulled on his trousers and shoes and picked up the knife that Vinh Thi had pulled on him. He got up and stood next to the door, knife at the ready. Suddenly the door blew open, and there was a blinding light, and the door slammed closed, and Dennis was gone. Séraphine gasped and grabbed her burner phone and dialed 911, but she was so panicked she couldn't speak English other than, "Help!"

The door opened again, and a man entered. She grabbed the kitchen knife, and a short man, who was clearly drunk or stoned, began chattering to her in English. All she caught was "Mayor" and "Dennis" He had put some stuff on the table so he could wave his hands around when he talked.

"Je ne parle pas anglais," was all the terrified woman could say.

"Now I gotta find a fuckin' frog that can speak French," grumbled Samael Windecker, and he staggered back out of the apartment. "You better have an answer for me when I get back!"

Séraphine saw the stuff on the table. It was a bag of blue pills and a pistol. She grabbed some plastic kitchen wrap and scooped the pills and gun up with the plastic wrap and dove under the bed. She opened the door in the floor, and inside was a steel lockbox, and she put the gun and pills in there along with the notebook, their will, and their life savings. Then she wrapped Cholly up in blankets and slipped him under the bed.

Séraphine fell asleep leaning against the door, but she woke up when it was shoved open. The light came on, and it was that man again. He was crazy. "Where is the notebook?" he demanded, but she didn't understand what he was saying. "Come on bitch, where's the fucking notebook?"

"Je ne parle pas anglais!" she said, and she slashed at him with the butcher knife she was carrying. Shrieking in anger, he twisted the knife out of her grip and got her in a chokehold. He pinched her jaw, forcing her to open her mouth, then he took four pills out of his pocket and shoved them in her mouth and then held his hand over her mouth until she swallowed. She fought for her life, hacking at him with the knife, but the drugs were potent, and she was weakening even before she swallowed.

"Frog bitch!" he spat and left.

Séraphine's last act was to stagger to the apartment door and open that so Cholly could go into Amelia's portion of the house; then she collapsed against the back door and tried to dial the phone...

A police car marked "Springville Park Patrol" answered the dispatcher, who requested, "Any unit, we have a nine eleven on Argentine Avenue."

"Unit Eleven responding," but the cop was going the wrong way. Later he would report no answer at the Argentine Avenue address. As they headed away from the call, the driver glared at his passenger. "You fucked everything up," spat Richard Harvey, Chief of the Springville Park Patrol. "All we had to do was get the notebook and you shot Howe before he could even say something. Then you kill his wife before we can find someone who speaks French."

Samael Windecker was stoned out of his skull and fell asleep on the way home.

<><><><><>֍<><><><><>

Amelia Rodrigues came home to find the house freezing, the furnace roaring, and the baby shrieking. She turned on the lights, and her heart sank. "Oh, fuck oh fuck oh fuck," she sputtered over and over as she wrapped up Chamonix in a blanket. Then she walked, and as she walked, she pulled her phone out and called a number she had memorized.

"FBI, Special Agent Bronson."

"You worthless fucks! You ignorant pieces of shit!"

"Slow down Amelia, what's going on?"

"They're dead! You assholes! There's blood all over my back yard and it looks like they dragged a body out. The woman is lying dead on the floor. I'm taking the baby somewhere that will care for him."

"Amelia, you were supposed to watch them..." sputtered the FBI agent.

"I'm Eighty Fucking Five years old! YOU were supposed to keep an eye on them... You never once swung by. What the fuck is wrong with you? So help me God I'm going to call Paul Jarecki, he'll know what to do."

"We're on our way, you just take care of the baby. Ok?"

"Fuck you."

"Goodbye Amelia."

"Fuck you all to hell."

It was about five blocks to Pastor Jarecki's house, and the baby's tears of sorrow and loneliness started Amelia's tears. The church was two blocks closer, and it was lit up like it was Mardi Gras in there, so still crying she went inside.

<><><><><>

Here we come a-wassailing

Among the leaves so green;

Here we come a-wand'ring

So fair to be seen.

Love and joy come to you,

And to you your wassail too;

And God bless you and send you a happy New Year

And God send you a happy New Year.

Their singing was pitch-perfect. Josh had worked with Macy, Andi, and Yi for a couple of weeks, then he got his quartet together and they went out caroling. They were joined by Julissa Tanaka, who was a Sweet Adeline. Their octet sang on the street corners in Springville, where the locals were taking advantage of special holiday sales.

Andi and Yi had never sung with a chorus before and had never sung in four-part harmony either. They started with Deck the Halls With Boughs of Holly. Before they started, Josh said, "Yi, Macy, Andi, just sing melody, when your partner breaks off into harmony, try and sing along if you can. If not, just sing melody, ok?" The girls nodded, and they began singing. The guys in the back row, the girls up front. They started with everyone singing the melody, but as soon as they hit "Don we now our gay apparel," Dick split off to do the tenor harmony and Yi sang along with him. Then on the next line, "Troll the ancient yuletide Carol" Julissa and Bob broke into the bass harmony. When they hit "See the blazing yule before us," Josh was singing baritone and Andi hung right with him and they were in four-part harmony.

The girls merely followed the guy's lead, so by the time they got to the end of the song, they had learned their part and were singing cheerfully. A crowd gathered around and gave them a hearty round of mitten-muffled applause. Their next song, Angels We Have Heard on High, was so beautiful in four-part harmony. Andi was having a hard time singing all those Glorias because she was smiling so much. Then again, "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day" was so sweet and beautiful she and Yi were both shedding tears as they sang.

They sang a few more songs and had attracted a fairly sizeable crowd. Silent Night was beautiful, but Oh Holy Night was incredible because the girls had practiced it so much and all eight voices were clearly heard. When they had exhausted their songbooks, they thanked the crowd and finished with "Keep the Whole World Singing," a song that just rang with beautiful barbershop chords. They thanked their audience and headed back to Macy's house, singing "Here We Come a-Wassailing" as they walked.

As they got near the church, Andi said, "I'm going to go check on the kids," and, saying goodbye to The Gentlemen's disagreement and The Gentlemen's Ladies, Andi ducked into the church.

Inside, the church was a scene of joyful bedlam and laughter as the Sunday schoolers worked out their parts in the Nativity play. Pre-schoolers dashed around in sheep costumes, the older kids were dressed as angels, and one of the twins was walking around with a beard. As Hester Willoughby, the head of Sunday school, tried to organize her flock of sheep and desperately tried to convince the shepherds not to hit their sheep with their crooks, the angels were chasing each other through the pews. Sandy came up to Andi, stroking her beard made of yarn thoughtfully. "Are you a shepherd?" asked Andi.

"I'm Joefuss."

"Where's Madeline?" asked Andi, and Sandy pointed over to where John was sitting off to the side of the chaos.

John was seated with his foot up and a small child on his lap. The little fellow had tangled black hair and huge round eyes filled with terror, and he shivered. Madeline was trying to convince the younger boy to do something. "Cholly doesn't want to be the baby Jesus," said bearded Sandy. "He's scary."

Meanwhile, outside, Josh noticed a small figure in the shadows cast by the church building, and he heard it crying. "Miss Amelia?" The hardcore old army nurse looked up at Josh with tear-filled eyes and burst into new gales of tears. "Miss Amelia? What's wrong?"

"The whole world is wrong!"

"I'm taking you home," said Josh.

"I hate my home. I wanna burn it down."

Josh tried to lead her home, but she stumbled in the snow, and the tears came harder. Josh scooped her up as he would a child, and he was shocked to discover that she weighed little more than a child. He carried her all the way home, and she told him the story. "I rent out my back room for short term use. Bachelors, salesmen, the like. The FBI puts witnesses in there too. I had a couple, a guy and his wife and little boy. They were perfect, they were quiet. Only once did they come out and you saw it," said Amelia.

She sniffed and continued. "I come home to find the snow behind the house covered in blood, and he's gone. She's lying dead on the floor, and the baby's crying his poor eyes out. He hasn't eaten in days, I don't think."

"What did you do with the child?"

"I did what the father asked, I gave him to John. He said he knew John a long time ago."

They got to Amelia's house, and a "clean-up crew" was at work on the back end of the house. Josh sat Amelia down in her easy chair and put on coffee for her, then went in the back to see what the clean-up crew was doing. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," said a fellow who looked like an FBI agent.

"Son," said Josh, "Don't make me ruin your holidays with an extended hospital stay."

<><><><><>

Paul had just returned to the hotel after a long, painful day at the dealership he had just bought in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. Half of the idiots in the sales department at the dealership failed the handbook test; it was like they wanted to get fired! But Josey Kersey, Mister Secret Agent Man, Mister FBI Guy, didn't want Paul to fire anybody. "If you fire them, they'll scatter. Pretend they passed by the skin of their teeth. Give me twenty-four to forty eight hours and then you won't have to worry about paying unemployment and you can bring in all new people."

His executive assistant, Min Zhong Sun, was fuming, and she kicked off her shoes as she entered their suite and collapsed on the couch and put her feet up on the coffee table. "Morons," she grumbled. "We should let the guys in the service bay sell the cars. They're the only one who knows the job."

Just then, Paul's phone rang with Andi's ringtone. "Hey darling, what's up?"

"I'm sorry, I want to talk... you know... but we need legal advice."

"What's going on?" asked Paul.

"Some woman abandoned a child at the church." The phone was silent for a long moment until Andi said, "did you hear me?"

"Yeah, it's just, I can't picture somebody doing that in Springville. Not during the holiday season."

"She hurt him, or somebody did. He's got marks like he was whipped with something; mom thinks it was an electrical cord. She says she's seen it before."

"Ok, I don't do family law, and that's where this is sitting. I'm trying to think of who knows what can be done... isn't your friend Lanh's brother a lawyer?"

"Yeah, I'll call her, and honey?"

"Yeah?" said Paul. It sounds like she was covering her mouth so Macy wouldn't hear her.

"What is John's special account? I don't speak a lot of French but when Macy asked what they should do, he said to use every penny in his special account."

"That's their life savings," said Paul in a whisper. "Every penny he and Macy earn from the dealerships goes in there. If John mentioned using that account it means he is going to fight for that kid tooth and nail. You call Lanh, I'll call Veronica. Oh, and darling, photograph every mark, every wound."

"The poor little guy is filthy."

"Photograph that too.

After saying a quick goodbye, Paul called Josh, who had just got home from Amelia's house. "Hey buddy, is Veronica available?"

"Define available, y'old horn dog."

"We need help, legal help. I think she knows what we need to know, or she knows who to talk to."

"The kid?" asked Josh.

"You know about him?"

"Yes, I just got done with Amelia, she took him over there. She said she'll apologize..."

"Wait, what?" This was getting weirder by the second.

Josh got Veronica into the conversation. "A set of FBI witnesses or something were staying in Amelia's back room, the father said if something happens to us and the kids is ok, take him to Pastor John. He told Amelia that he knew John and your parents back in the day."

"Does she know his name?" asked Paul.

"You can't just hand out kids," said Veronica. "There's grandparents that must be considered."

"John is planning to fight for this kid, so you better get over there and give him a reality check," said Paul.

"Come on Music Man," said Veronica. "Let's take a walk."

They got to John and Macy's house and rang the bell. Andi opened the door and suddenly wept, "Ronnie!" and she burst into tears.

"Honey what's the matter?" asked Veronica as she entered the house. She held Andi, and the short mom simply wept. Finally she said, "Some lady walked into church and dropped a little boy on John's lap. She said Merry Fucking Christmas and left."

"That was Amelia," said Josh. "She told me the baby's father told her to do that if something happens to him and his wife."

"What about his wife?" asked a suspicious Andi.

"According to the police investigator, she's been dead for two days... that little guy was locked in a room with his dead mother for two days."

"NO," gasped Andi. "And the father?"

"All they found of him was a pool of blood in the snow."

Andi looked shocked, but Josh said, "Let me see him." They went upstairs and found Cholly standing in the bathtub, chattering. He didn't want to sit down because he was afraid of the water. Macy and Heather were scrubbing him with soap and washcloths.

"What's he saying?" asked Andi.

"I don't know much, he..." Macy went silent. "He's speaking French, but I don't understand much of it."

"You speak French."

"No, I speak Canadian French, it's like French with a really bad accent. It sounds to me he's trying to speak mainland French or maybe colonial French."

Veronica knelt down by the tub and said, I used to live in France. Let's see if I can pick out his accent. "Qui es-tu?" (Who are you?)

He patted his chest and proudly said, "moi!" (me)

"And what is your name little guy?" asked Veronica as she tickled him. "Quel est ton nom?"

He looked terrified when she asked that. He looked from face to face as if he was terrified of getting the answer wrong. Tears welled up in those huge brown eyes of his. "I think he's Caldoche," whispered Josh.

"What?" asked Macy.

"I took French in college from a Caldoche, same language, but accents are different. Let me try." Josh knelt down by the tub and said, "Hey lil' buddy, Tu as faim?"

Cholly considered what he said and nodded his head.

"It's just an accent, he can understand you, you can't understand him."

"We think he was scalded," said Macy. "He kept saying Chaude! Chaude! when we put him in the tub."

Veronica put her hand in the water and said, "Chaude? Froide?" (Hot? Cold?)

Cholly put his hand in the water again and said, "bien," (nice) but he said it with an accent she's heard in the past; Josh might be right with the New Caledonia accent.

"I wish he would sit down and soak," said Macy.

"He needs bubbles," said Madeline, as she and Sandy peered through the women at the little boy.

"I have some baby bubble bath," said Macy, and she poured some bubble bath into the tub and then added water to the tub. When she turned on the tap, Cholly panicked and dashed to the far end of the tub. She was about to throw up her hands in frustration when Madeline and Sandy jumped naked into the tub. Cholly looked at his visitors, trying to make out what they were doing, but Madeline and Sandy sat down in the water and began kicking and splashing, churning bubbles in the warm water.

"Come on Cholly! You gotta splash!"

The little boy watched, then smiled and reached down and splashed the water.

"Éclabousser l'eau!" said Veronica cheerfully, "splash the water!" and soon Cholly was sitting in the water with the girls, splashing and laughing. Macy added a few bathtub toys and sat back and laughed. The twins started washing Cholly with baby sponges, and he tried to wash them with a washcloth. Macy, Veronica and Andi let the twins play, and Cholly loosened up. The splashing and soaking soon melted the dirt off of him.

"Quel beau garçon!" (What a handsome boy!) said Macy and Veronica over and over. They lifted him out of the tub, and the water was gray from the dirt that was on the boy. But now the welts, bruises, and sores were clearly visible, and Macy took photos, even though her eyes were full of tears. "What kind of Animal does this?"

"I hate to do this," said Andi, and she checked Cholly for evidence of sexual assault, which startled him, and she sighed with relief when she found none. They put a diaper on him and wrapped him up in a blanket, and Veronica said, "Let's go see daddy, Allons voir papa!"

"Papa?" the little boy asked. "Papa?"

When Macy carried Cholly downstairs, John and the twins were in the living room waiting for her, while Andi and Yi were in the kitchen making grilled cheese sandwiches for the kids. "Do you want to see poppa? Tu veux voir papa?"

"Papa?" Cholly looked around. "PAPA!" he cried, looking desperately for his daddy, who had disappeared days ago while he slept. Macy handed Cholly to John, who was sitting in his chair, an aching leg propped up on an ottoman. Cholly was crying, but he soon had a sippy cup full of water and a grilled cheese sandwich.

"Don't let him eat too fast," said Andi. "He'll throw it all up."

Soon Veronica's boss, Marjorie Friedman, arrived. She came there to explain the process that Macy and John were going to have to go through, and the Town of Concord PD called to say that a policeman was on his way to take statements. Several concerned people from the church heard what happened and were bringing over items for an older baby. As they came in, they saw John sitting with month-old Katarina on one arm, and eighteen month old Cholly on the other arm.

"Looks like you got your family set, pastor," said Ernie Craft, a board member who stopped by to see what help was needed. The house hadn't been that full in decades, and yet the doorbell rang again. Since Macy and John were busy, Andi opened the door, and it was Kenny Johnson and Mary Kraft, Ernie's wife, the church treasurer. Kenny's arms were full of shopping bags full of clothes, and Mary was holding several jackets, snow pants, boots, and sneakers.

"I grabbed Kenny, and we made some calls," said Mary. "We went from house to house and collected some boys clothes and cold weather gear, shoes, boots, hats..."

"Merci!" wept Macy. "Merci beaucoup!"

Again, the doorbell rang. Andi was trying to settle down Danny when the next visitor arrived. She opened the door, and this time it was a police officer. "Come in officer..." she started.

"Sergeant Montgomery, ma'am."

"I talked to you a year ago! I was stuck in a ditch on Trevet road, and you sent Doctor Jarecki to get me out of the ditch."

"How did that work out Ma'am?"

She hefted Danny and said, "It worked out pretty good."

"There is a report of a foundling? Is that correct?"

"Over here. This is Pastor John Jarecki, and he was handed a baby at church this evening."

"Is there a place where we can sit down and talk?" asked the Sergeant.

Andi directed them to the kitchen table, and John sat down next to Macy, each holding a child. The twins were dawdling, finishing their milk, hoping to see the rest of the show. "Ok, it's a school night girls! Let's get going, it's past your bedtime."

"Aw mom..." said the twins in unison.

"Aw mom," said Cholly.

"We taught him to talk!" cried Sandy.

"Charlie will be here tomorrow. Let's go!" As they left, they walked past Josh, who was trembling and had broken out in a cold sweat. He was sure that whatever this was, it was going to get worse.

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