FLIGHT FROM OBSESSION - CHAPTER THREE

     The next morning Abby sat in her room under the eaves grading final exams.  The small attic room served as her office at home.  Crowded shelves and files, an old roll-top desk and its chair were the only furnishings in the A-shaped room.  A Persian rug covered the polished floor and the only window, a small, high one, looked out toward the ocean. 

The phone rang and she thought it was probably Cliff, good she thought, they should arrange to get together for a talk.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Little Flower, it’s Blackie.”

“Hi Blackie, Is something up?”

    “I’m just calling you to remind you about the Tribal Council meeting tomorrow night,” he said.

    “I remember you’re all coming here, right?”

    “If it works for you,” he said, “It beats heating up our conference room for just an hour or two, besides your coffee and refreshments are much better.”

    “Great,” she said.  “I’ll see you tomorrow night, Blackie.”

    “Bye, see you then.”

    Blackie was a medical doctor and acting chief of the tribe.  The real chief was a very elderly man who was consulted on all decisions and served as ceremonial leader.  Abby had only met him on official occasions, but she noticed that his eyes would always light up when the children sang, or recited, or put on a play.  She thought of him as a ‘grandfather’ in her mind.

    Blackie had asked her out when they first met but she had decided it was best to keep the relationship on a professional level.  He was a big, handsome man who drove a sports car and had a reputation as a ladies’ man.

    When she teased him about all of his lady friends, he would say with a completely serious face, that he was diligently seeking a wife.  She would burst into laughter.

    They had become real buddies and he often helped her with background for her articles and spoke to her classes. He took her hiking and even took her fishing to some of his secret spots.

    Once, just last year in the early spring, they were hiking in the redwoods and found a beautiful little flower blooming bravely in the cold. Blackie told her it was a wild orchid.

    Blackie must have a new woman in his life because they hadn’t been hiking since then.  Maybe she would catch him between women sometime and they could go hiking again.

    She sat sipping Irish Breakfast tea from a mug and watched swirling, wispy fog begin to break up under the sun. Biting her lower lip and breathing in the rich aroma of the tea she began reading through the papers.  The first one turned out to be Ben Tanaka’s.  The papers were number coded but she recognized his work.  Good work, Ben, she thought to herself as she scanned the grade into her computer and added it to the list of grades that she would fax to the campus office.

    She read each paper thoroughly and followed the same procedure she had with Ben’s essay.  Essay papers were harder to grade then objective tests which the computer on campus would score and grade but she thought essays were the best way to test the student’s effort over the whole term and their grasp of the subject.  She was a popular professor but expected real work from her students and often got exceptional results.

    It took all morning to grade the papers and then she remembered the list of craftsmen that she had promised Tom.  Waif was asleep in the folds of her robe and grumbled as she got up and went downstairs for her address book.  She made the list and before going back upstairs she put the casserole in the oven and set the timer.

    Abby took a long, hot shower and the timer went off just as she was coming back down stairs.  She was wearing a lime green, linen pants suit with a darker green and blue striped silk blouse.  She removed the casserole from the oven just as she heard Tom’s knock on the back door.

    He was dressed in casual slacks and shirt with a sweater slung over his shoulders.  The sun brought out gold highlights in his hair and his eyes were shining with pleasure and anticipation. 

    He cocked his head, “Ready, professor?”

    “Let me get my casserole snug and we’ll be on our way,” she said.

    They settled into his jeep and she reminded him of the way to the old church.  They drove down the bluff and through a few blocks of residential neighborhoods to the old church and parked in the dirt parking lot among pickups and other practical vehicles. 

    “Did I tell you how great you look today, green is definitely your color,” he said as he switched off the engine.  “Was that your mother’s locket,” he asked?

    Startled, she said, “Yes, I’m surprised you noticed it, I don’t think it’s very valuable.”

    “It is to you, besides, I like older jewelry.  I have some of Aunt Agatha’s.”

    “Shall we go in,” he asked?

    She grinned at him as he got out and waited while he went to the back of the jeep and retrieved a Styrofoam ice chest full of soft drinks.

    They entered the church hall where long tables covered with checkered, paper tablecloths were burdened with crock pots, hot plates, and foil wrapped bowls and platters.  Women of all ages, sizes, and shapes from tow head to gray haired, fussed at the food on the tables while the men were gathered in small knots at the far end of the hall.  Children ran back and forth between the two groups and in and out of the church doors.

    Tom stopped in his tracks and eyed the two groups, “I’d forgotten the division of the sexes, post puberty, that is,” he joked.

    “Definitely not Los Angeles,” she laughed.  “The men do seem to mix in well once the food is ready,” She remarked   dryly.  

    “I just bet they do,” he said with a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

    “Do I detect a feminist lurking in there somewhere,” she asked?

    He winked, “Guess I’ll just mosey on down and discuss important stuff with the men folk.”

    She giggled and punched him in the shoulder.

He pretended that he lost his grip on the ice chest and bobbled it.  They both laughed as he pretended to regain his hold.    

As they amused themselves a pretty, dark woman in a stylish suit and very high heels broke from a knot of women at the tables and headed directly toward.“Will you two behave,” she hissed, shaking her finger at them.

Tom almost collapsed at that and said sotto voce, “Good heavens, its Aunt Agatha, reincarnated.”

Abby was giggling so hard that she just stood shaking her head and sputtering at Tessie.

“The Prodigal nephew, I presume,” Tess extended her hand toward Tom introducing herself. 

Still holding the ice chest, Tom managed a slight bow and told Tess his name.

In control again, Abby said, “Tom this in Tess Danelli, my crazy friend, and Tessie this is Tom Yancy, my other crazy friend.”

Tom tried to ignore the ‘Newhart’ reference and behave himself. 

“I’ll leave you two and to get acquainted while I get this casserole over to the table,” Abby, said escaping to a serious group by the tables. 

    A little later as she was chatting with Aunt Bessie, Abby saw Tom and Tess walking toward the end of the table laden with the liquid refreshments.  Suddenly, Aunt Bessie eyes widened and Abby knew she was no longer listening.

“Tommy! Tommy Wyatt Yancey, you get yourself over here.”

Everyone turned at the commanding tone.

Tom walked toward Aunt Bessie looking like a ten year old caught in the cookie jar.

Abby could see that some people were looking skeptical while others shook their heads, implying, “Why, sure, that’s Tommy Wyatt.  Why, I would have known him anywhere” 

Aunt Bessie opened her arms and hugged Tom with all of her might, tears in her eyes. Abby could see a suspicious glint in Tom’s eyes as he hugged back.

Aunt Bessie held Tom at arm’s length, “How long have you been in town and not one word?  You may just be due a paddling young man.  How long can you stay,” she asked?”

Tom gave Aunt Bessie another big hug and said, “I’ll be opening up the house, Aunt Bessie.  This will be home base now.”

“Well, I’ll be over first thing in the morning to give that house the once over, must be covered in dust and cobwebs.”

“Hold it Aunt Bessie, I’ve already hired a cleaning service.  They’ll be there first thing in the morning to get it all shiny clean”

“Hummph, then I’ll be there to make sure they give it more than a ‘lick and a promise,’ can’t trust a man to handle these things.”

“I don’t imagine I have much choice in the matter so I’ll leave the supervising chore in your capable hands, just leave the hard work to the crew,’ he warned.

Fred, who had been bouncing up and down and hanging on to every word could contain himself no longer, “Boy, you really staying?”

He shook Tom’s hand vigorously, “Son, we’ll be real happy to have you back.  Bessie here goes out to your Aunt’s grave every month after church.  Keeps the plot real nice, she does.”

Tom kissed Bessie’s cheek, ”Thanks, Aunt Bessie, from now on I’ll be here to go with you.”

“Agatha will be real happy about that, Tommy, but this is a happy occasion.  Hope you’re hungry, we’ve got enough here to feed an army.”

“Sure am, Aunt Bessie, but before I eat I have a ‘bone to pick’ with your husband here.

“You told Abby Cavanaugh that I’m up to no good and a ‘city slicker’, Fred.” Tom shook his head sadly as the crowd hung on to every word.

“Why, I’ll be...,” he dodged his wife’s elbow, “So you’re the ‘city slicker’s’ been hanging around up at the county seat.  Must be getting muddled in my old age, but how come you know Abby, son?”

Tom laughed and winked at Abby, “Well, she’s my neighbor, Fred.”

“Dad blamed, that’s right, boy.  Your house is right next to the one she bought a few years back.”

The crowd laughed, Fred as hard as the rest even though the joke was on him.

After that the rest of the townspeople who knew Tom began shaking his hand and slapping him on the back, the women kissing him on the cheek.  New comers welcomed him as they were regaled with tales of his childhood pranks.  Tom soon had the little, two year old Tanaka in his arms as he chatted with the circle of town’s folk around him.

Soon the food was arranged to everyone’s satisfaction and the covers were removed.  The children were served first and then the grownups lined up and heaped their plates full. 

Tom came and sat next to Abby when his plate was full.  Bessie and Fred sat across the table and Manuel Abreu and his wife next to them, the Tanaka’a and Tess were grouped around them.

The men and young boys were teased for their enormous appetites and the women were praised for their culinary skills. 

“Cat got your tongue, Professor,” Tom asked? 

“Just wool-gathering,” she grinned sheepishly.

“In sophisticated Los Angeles society that’s called intellectialize,” he laughed.

“Want to know my definition of intellectualizing,” she asked with humor in her eyes?

“I know the answer to that one,” Tess laughed, “Abby’s definition of intellectualizing is call “trivial pursuit.”

They all laughed, Tom the hardest,” Some of my friends in Los Angeles would be highly offended Abby; in fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of their ears are burning right now.”

Tom got up to refill his plate, his hearty laughter still ringing in their ears. 

Tess scooted over to Tom’s vacant place on the bench, “Let’s go see if there is any of that great jello salad left.”

“Sure, do you need anything, Aunt Bessie,” Abby asked?

“Could use some water, Abby, gets hot in a crowd.”

They got up and took seconds of some of the dishes on the table. “I’m glad you suggested I come today, Abby, it’s been a lot of fun and Tom is terrific. He’s nothing like the fish man.”

“I wish you wouldn’t do that, he’s the Fish and Game Biologist, Tess.  You let the question slide Saturday. Why don’t you like him,” Abby asked?

“You won’t get mad, Abby?”

Tess continued when Abby shook her head, “I’m sorry but I think he’s a santimonious prude and too old for you.”

Abby looked angry for a moment and then said, “Do you have to be so wishy washy Tess, couldn’t you come right out with it,” she teased.

“I’m sorry Abby; I just don’t like the guy.  I think he’s a bigot,” Tess admitted.

“It’s O.K., Tess, I’ve begin wondering myself, lately.  He’s made a couple of remarks about the Indians in the Tribal Council that I didn’t care for.”

“Have you ever seen him around the Tanakas, Abby? He cuts them dead.”

“I’ve never seen him around the Tanakas, has he really been rude to them,” she asked?

Tess shrugged, “That’s my interpretation.”

Abby nodded a concerned look on her face. 

“Come on,” said Tess, “Let’s go back and join the party.”

Abby grabbed a bottle of water for Bessie and they headed back to the table.

When they got back to their seats Tom and Ken Tanaka were reliving a high school baseball game.  Ken was ribbing Tom about a grounder he bobbled that went for a double.

“Come on, Ken, that ball took a bad hop and what about your striking out in the bottom of the ninth, cost us the game,” Tom teased.

“Hey, they went ahead of us on your error in the seventh.”

The bantered back and forth and then Ken said, “Hey, Tom, why don’t you and Abby come over next Saturday.  With my brothers and all of our kids we could get a little softball game together and maybe barbeque later,” he turned to his wife, “Sound O.K. to you, honey?”

Sherry had dark hair, ivory skin and a pixie like personality and hair cut.  “Sure, you men handle the barbeque and Abby and I can pitch in and fix the side dishes.”

Tom turned to Abby, “Come along. It will be a lot of fun and we can see how well you swing a bat, professor.”

Abby wanted to accept. She liked both Ken and Sherry but she needed to straighten things out with Cliff first.

“Can I call you Monday or Tuesday, Sherry?  I need to check my calendar.”

Sherri agreed and then turned to Ken, “Why don’t we have the Abrue family over too, then you could have a real game.”

The Abrue’s had already gone so Ken said, “Good idea, I’ll call Manuel tomorrow and invite them”.

Bessie rose to start clearing off the table and both Tom and Abby stopped her.

“Sit and relax, Aunt Bessie, both Ken and I bussed tables in college, we’ll have this cleared up in no time,” Tom said.

“Yes, relax and finish your water.  Sherri, Tess, and I can tidy up the kitchen.”

They were as good as their word and twenty minutes later the hall was cleared and the garbage bags delivered to the curb.  Tom walked Bessie and Fred to their car while Ken and Sherri gathered dishes and kids. 

Ken yawned, “Good night, everyone.  See you Saturday Tom, and I hope you too, Abby. 

There was a chorus of goodbyes as the stragglers left the parking lot.

Tom and Abby relaxed in companionable silence as they drove home.  Tom yawned, “Sorry, I don’t think I’ve been this relaxed in years.  I probably would have ended up with an ulcer if I stayed in L.A. much longer.

Abby smiled, “You seem to be falling back into your life here with ease.”

“The people here are terrific.  Very real people with very strong character,” he laughed.  “Some people would probably consider them simple or rustic, but the truth is they are very real and very genuine,” he turned to her, “You fit in too, Abby.”

“I love it here and I agree with you about the people, but I’ve always been a small town girl.  I’ve never been attracted by the bright lights.”

When they got home Tom walked her to the back door. “I hope that all of the work that’s going to go on over here next week doesn’t disturb you too much.”

“I’m usually up early,” she said.

“I have a house cleaning crew and a yard maintenance company coming tomorrow.  Wednesday a fencing company will be fencing in the backyard.”

“Did I tell you I have a dog,” he asked?

“Let’s see,” she said and looked at him closely, “a Lab,” she asked?

“She’s an Irish Setter named Cassandra.  A friend is keeping her while I get settled,” he answered. 

“Yes, I can see an Irish Setter,” she said, then fished in her purse for the list she had made for him.

“Thanks, Abby,” he said taking the list of craftsmen. “School next week,” he asked?

“Classes are over but we have departmental responsibilities next week,” she answered. “I’ll be writing several articles this summer.  I’ve already done the research.”

“Well, we’ll have to Christian this ‘Literary Row’”, he laughed. 

“I had a great time today, Abby, and I hope you come Saturday to play softball.”

“I had a good time too.  It was great seeing Aunt Bessie so happy to see you back.  I’d better go in now, thanks for the lovely day.”

“Good night, Abby,” Tom shoved his hands in his pockets and went whistling off into the night with pictures of flashing green eyes and tousled, honey blond hair in his thoughts.
@ 2013 May karenmaceanruig

FLIGHT FROM OBSESSION - CHAPTER TWO

        Abby stretched and yawned after a night of quiet sleep.  She remembered last night’s impromptu dinner and the easy companionship she and Tom had shared. She was looking forward to Sunday and Aunt Bessie’s reaction to Tom and the reopening of Agatha Wyatt’s old house.  Ummm, she stretched again, so much to look forward to. 

     She jumped up straightening the Amish quilt and plumped up the pillows on her antique brass bed then stepped into the shower. Warm water pulsated on her skin as she lathered her hair, enjoying the self-indulgent master bath, singing music from “Oklahoma”.

The whole front area of the second floor was wall to wall Berber carpeting with a walk-in closet, a built-in library with cupboards for her personal writing projects, and an attractive seating area in front of the river rock fireplace.  Tall paned windows revealed ocean and beach and allowed ample light into the room. To the rear of the second floor were two guest rooms with a shared bath.

    She looked out to check the weather before dressing and the sun had already burned the night fog into wispy remnants in the blue sky. A great day she observed and decided to chuck her work plans and visit her girlfriend, Tess, at her Bed and Breakfast Inn across the cove. She wanted to share all of her good news and see the completed renovation of the Inn

   She dried her hair and pulled on denim slacks, a gingham blouse and grabbed a light jacket in case the wind came up later in the day.  Downstairs she fed Waif and fortified herself with a cup of hot tea before walking to the back of her yard to retrieve her bicycle from the garage. A covey of birds called from the thicket while jays scolded from the trees and gulls wheeled overhead.  

   The fog was gone as she cycled from the bluff down through town, along the harbor, and up the other side to the Bed and Breakfast.  Sunlight danced on the waves while birds sang their songs and the mingled fragrance of ocean and spicy vegetation filled her senses as she pedaled along the familiar route. 

     She leaned her bike against the picket fence and called out to Tess as she opened the gate.  She heard a muffled response from the back so she walked through the flower garden which was Tess’s pride and joy to find her weeding the herb garden.

Tess’s petite frame was perched on a gardening stool as she tended the herbs that were the basis for her culinary marvels. Almost everything she served at the inn came fresh from the local fishermen, farmers, and wineries.

   “Oh, Abby, I’m so glad to see you, she said as Abby reached down and to help her up and the two hugged. 

   “Come inside and see my new kitchen,” she said as she brushed off dirt and twigs, washing her hands under the garden spigot.  Tess was 5 foot even with black hair and deep brown eyes fringed by extraordinary lashes.  She looked and sounded European and very cultured from her work as a UN translator and years spent in the international community.  Actually, she was an Atlanta girl who had been a foreign exchange student and won a scholarship to study languages in Europe. 

   She led Abby by the hand into the inn, “My dream come true,” she said as she whirled and opened her arms to embrace the smaller version of a large, modern commercial kitchen recently installed in the old inn.     

   “Wow,” Abby exclaimed as she wandered through the kitchen touching stainless steel surfaces and admiring the amazing collection of cookware hanging above the modern grill and ovens. “It’s right out of a gourmet magazine,” Abby said, eyes wide with wonder.

   Tess had saved her money faithfully while working in New York and with a small inheritance from her parents had purchased and refurbished the inn when she came to the cove.  Actually, an advertisement for the inn in a magazine had brought Tess to the Cove and she had fallen in love with the inn at first sight.  She had worked long and hard for several years, scrimping and saving to install this modern kitchen and redecorate the dining room.

   “Now,” she said as she took Abby’s hand again, “the ‘piece de resistance’,” she said and stepped through the swinging doors that led to the dining room.

   Abby stood, stunned by the breadth of the view before her.  The whole west wall of the inn was covered with large tinted windows that showed off the rugged coastline in all of its majesty. 

    “You see,” said Tess, “the magnificent sunset will be the head liner of my dinner show, along with my food, of course,” she laughed with humor, “and if it is foggy,” she turned to the east gesturing at the east wall and the huge river, rock fireplace, “a warm fire will comfort my guests and make them feel warm and cozy.”

   “It’s more beautiful then I can say.”   The walls were washed gray wormwood and the carpeting was a medium blue-grey. “I love the carpeting and the walls too.  Oh, and look at the beautiful silver and crystal, the table settings are exquisite,” she said with awe.

      “I didn’t want the colors to compete with the view and sunset,” Tess said, “and the thick carpeting will make the service quiet and mute the sounds below the level of the recorded music I will play.” 

   When they finished admiring everything,” Tess said, “Come back to the kitchen.  I have a new pasta dish I want you to try out.”

   “I’m so glad you didn’t let that decorator talk you into anything, Tess.  It’s perfect the way it is and it’s your vision.”

   “It was your concept that convinced me Abby.  Remember that you said you wanted to live in your house for a while before you started renovating?  I decided it was the same with the inn, I have lived here for years and know how it should look.”

   Abby, grinned, pleased with the compliment.

   Tess puttered with her new dish and asked, “What’s new in town,” Abby, “I’ve been so busy here that I haven’t been out.”

   “One more week of school and I can start writing some of the articles I’ve been thinking about,” she said.

   “No field trip again this year,” Tess asked?

   “Not with my new home to enjoy,” Abby said, “You know that as soon as I graduated from high school Dad started taking me on field trips.  It just doesn’t have the allure it used to have.”

   “You sure it doesn’t have anything to do with your ex,” she asked Abby.

   “Of course it does,” she said, “You know that they’re still investigating.”

   “Have you heard anything new,” Tess asked. 

   Tess and Abby had exchange their life stories: ‘the good, the bad, and the ugly’.  Tess knew all about Abby’s ex-husband, even about the last horrifying call from the D.A.’s office.  They knew each other so well that each had a hard time hiding anything from the other.

   “No, nothing since that last call,” Abby answered. 

   Tess continued to prepare the lunch and Abby said, “I do have some interesting new news though,” Abby enticed, wanting to change the subject.

   Tess put the new dish in the oven and brought ice tea and salads to the table, “Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” she said.

   “I have a new neighbor,” said Abby.

   “What,” Tess exclaimed, “Someone new in town?  Give, Abby.”

   Abby grinned, “You know the Wyatt house, right next door to me?”

   Tess frowned, “Bessie Gurney’s chum,” she asked?

   “Yes, Agatha Wyatt’s nephew started moving in yesterday.  He’s an attorney from LA and he’s going to be writing a law text.”

   “Well,” said Tess, with a twinkle in her eye, “Name, age and vital statistics, please?”

   “I’m not sure, thirty something, brown hair and eyes, maybe 6’2”.  Very nice and he has a wonderful sense of humor.”

   “And just how did you learn so much in such a short time, Abby Cavanaugh?”

   She grinned again, “He came to dinner last night,” she said, “and we talked for hours.”

   “Well, well, well, it’s not like you to invite a strange man to dinner, Abby.  Remember that you’re shy,” she said.

   “I know,” she frowned, “I guess that’s why I wanted to stop by.”

   Tess got up and brought the casserole to the table, “Now, start from the beginning,” she told Abby.

   “O.K.,” I was just getting home from school and shopping and he was coming out of the back door of the house next door.  “Naturally, I was curious.”

   “Yes, of course, and then…..?”

   “We introduced ourselves and he helped me in with the groceries and we just started talking.  His kitchen isn’t working yet and it was getting late so I invited him to dinner.”

   “What’s he like,” Tessie asked?

   “He was raised here in town, he loves the theater, went to Sunday school in Aunt Bessie’s classes, played baseball with Ken Tanaka, is up to date on off shore drilling and fishing laws and has a terrific sense of humor.”

   Tess was grinning ear to ear and Abby balled up her napkin and threw it in Tess’s general direction. 

   Tess touched Abby’s hand, “Tell me what’s troubling you about all of this?”

   Abby took a deep breath, “First, was it appropriate for me to invite him into my home, and second, it feels like I’ve just started meeting new people and leaving my old life behind.  It’s like I’ve been on hold all of this time and now I’m opening up. Does that make any sense,” she asked?

   “Abby, you would have fed him if he was an ugly little dog that followed you home.  Just look at that ratty little kitten you took home.”

   “She’s not ratty, she’s sleek and beautiful,” Abby protested.

   Tess grinned, “What did you feed him?”

   “Well, it wasn’t fancy, we split a bottle of wine and dinner, and then we had coffee and dessert in front of the fireplace and talked for hours.”

   Abby was quiet for a moment and then said, “It sounds kind of intimate doesn’t it?”

   “No, Abby, it doesn’t.  We’ve done the same thing and chatted half the night away.  Stop feeling guilty for having a nice evening with an interesting young man.”

   “Your right, Tess, it wasn’t planned and it was fun.  I guess I feel guilty because of Cliff.”

   “Oh God, not the fish,” Tess said.

   “All right, Tess, truth time, you like everyone.  What is it about Cliff that turns you off?”

   “Well, he doesn’t like me, which makes his judgment questionable.”

   “O.K., assuming that’s true for the moment, why doesn’t he like you,” Abby asked.

   “ummmm,” Tess wondered how to put it diplomatically, “I think it’s because I spent time in Europe and I speak several languages.”

   Abby felt defensive about the statement, “Well, that’s a pretty strange reason for not liking someone. Are you sure that you’re not mistaken?”

   “I’ve been wrong many times in my life, Abby.  How did you like the pasta?”

   Happy the discussion about Cliff was over, Abby said, “It was terrific, Tess, the inn looks terrific too.”

   Tess squeezed Abby’s hand, “I’m so glad you came, I’ve been worried since the work here was completed.  I’m just a crazy person who worries if she’s not working.  I should probably start thinking about employees now.”  

   “Have you thought about employing college students during the summer,” Abby asked?

   “What a great idea! Can you help me find reliable students to work here,” she asked?

   “Sure, I’d love to help.  The college has an employment office for students; I’ll check it out for you.  Why don’t you make a list of openings for me to submit to the student office?”

   Tess already had pen in hand, “I’ll start the list today and get it to you before the weekend is over.”

   “Tess, why don’t you come to the church potluck on Sunday?  Tom is going to be there and I’d like you to meet him,” Abby suggested.

   “I’d love to meet him.  And,” Tess said, “Don’t be surprised if he asks you to dinner to make up for the one you fixed for him. It would be the normal thing for a nice guy to do and it wouldn’t really be a date,” she added.

   “I have to admit that I enjoy his company, Tess, he’s just fun to be around and I want to leave it at that, for now.”

   “Understood, and I should have the employee list ready for you by then.”

   Abby stood up and complimented the inn and kitchen again, “The pasta was superb and thanks for the friendly ear.  I needed to talk.”

   “De nada, sweetie,” she took Abby’s hand and walked with her to the front door, “Don’t worry about all of the activity in the Midwest, it’s out of your hands and your divorce is final.”  She stopped Abby and said, “That feeling you had is right you know.  Last night was the ‘first day in the rest of your life’, as trite as it sounds. So, enjoy your new neighbor whether it’s a romance or a friendship.”

   Abby smiled, “Your right Tess, if he’s a friend I get to keep him no matter what. Thanks for lunch and the grand tour, you’re going to get rich,” Abby waved.

   Abby giggled as she coasted back down the bluff to the harbor.  She’d revealed a bit of her silly, “Edith Ann”, insecurity to Tessie and it felt good to be able to be herself and be “O.K. Funny-eerie, she thought, but introducing two friends was kind of like taking someone home to meet the family.  I want Tess and Tom to like each other, she realized.

   When she reached the fishing pier most of the boats were already in for the day.  She wanted to buy a freshly caught ling cod from one of the commercial boats. 

   As she walked out on the pier with her bicycle she could feel the timbers shudder as each swell surged under foot. Gulls shrieked and fought over scraps as the fishermen cleaned the days catch and washed down the decks. Surf pounded on the nearby beach and the throbbing of diesel engines filled her ears. She loved the docks and often joined the fishermen she knew from Aunt Bessie’s church in the small café.  . She saw Manuel Abreu’s boat reach the dock.  His teenage sons were dressed in yellow oils as they readied the boat for the next day.      

    “Hey, Abby Cavanaugh,” Manuel hailed her from the bow of the “Sadie”, “I have a big, beautiful cod here, your favorite.”

   “You’re reading my mind, Manuel, my mouth is already watering.  Looks as if it was rough out there today,” she called.

   “Rough, yes, and slow fishing, but soon it will be salmon season and we’re hoping for a good run this year. Now, what will you give me for this beautiful fish?”

   “That ugly old fish,” she called, “Why anyone can see that it’s mostly head and short on meat.”  

   They haggled and came to an agreeable amount and Abby rode off on her bike thinking that she would have every cat in town following her by the time she reach home. The bank of fog that lay off the coast all day began to move in and press against the shore.  Chilly, Abby stopped and put on her jacket.

   All was quiet next door when she got home and the drive way was empty  She went in and filleted out the fish and saved the scraps for fish chowder while Waif put up a loud clamor.  “All right you, no raw fish,” she said as she opened a can of cat food.

   She decided to put together the casserole for tomorrow’s potluck so that she could have more time for grading finals.  She put the casserole in the refrigerator and went upstairs to get ready for her dinner date with Cliff.

   Cliff pulled back the chair and helped Abby get seated comfortably.  They decided against a drink; instead, Cliff ordered a bottle of wine from the wine list to go with the choppino they both ordered.

   Cliff was a lean, light haired man of medium height.  His outdoor life as the Fish and Game biologist for the Trinity Cove area kept him tan and fit.  He nodded after tasting the wine he had ordered and the waiter poured for both of them. 

   “How did your meeting with the board go, Abby?”

   “The purpose of the meeting was to try and anticipate future conflicts between developers and certain sites important to the spiritual life and history of the area’s Indian tribes.  I’m afraid some of the board members don’t have much appreciation of other cultures.  Some of them don’t respect much except the money involved,” she said as she sipped the wine.

   “Well, if I know my Abby, you’ll have them eating out of your hand before all of this is over.  After all, the board will pay a lot more attention to an educated white person than some of those Indians.”

   “Cliff, that’s and unbearably patronizing thing to say.  The people I’m working with are all well educated, Blackie is a doctor and Gary an attorney...and what about the people who don’t have a degree tucked away somewhere, don’t they have any rights?”

   “O.K. honey, O.K., I’m sorry,” he said as he reached across to pat her hand. “I’m not saying that it’s right, I’m just saying that’s the way it is.”      

   Abby sat back with a sigh, “Your right, let’s enjoy the dinner.”  But she was thinking, he’s right, I get upset with him often lately. I just can’t believe some of the things he says.

   They finished their dinner quietly and Abby declined an after dinner drink and dessert saying, “I’m tired Cliff, let’s make an early night of it.  I have lots of papers to grade tomorrow.” 

   When they reached Abby’s house Cliff switched off the engine and turned toward her, “Honey, I wasn’t trying to be patronizing or anything like that.  I was just trying to complement you.  You know how much I respect you.”

   “I’m sorry too, Cliff.  I guess I’m kind of touchy lately.  Let’s forget about it and get in touch later in the week.

   “How about tomorrow, are you going to the potluck,” he asked?

   “You don’t enjoy those things, Cliff.  You haven’t gone with me since the first time, besides I kind of promised someone else he could tag along with me.”

   “You’re going out with someone else.” he demanded?

   “Cliff, calm down. In the first place it’s not a date, just a friendly gesture to someone new in town.  And in the second place, you know I’m not ready to commit to an exclusive relationship. I’ve told you that over and over again.”

   “I know that you’ve told me over and over again,” he went on in a more reasonable tone, “but we’ve been seeing each other for over a year and neither one of us is getting any younger. I am ready for a commitment, Abby, I’m ready for marriage.”

   “Cliff, listen, I made one bad mistake and I’m not going to make another.  I don’t want to commit to an exclusive relationship and I want you to feel free to date if you find someone you are attracted to.”

   He took a deep breath, “Sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere.  I really care about you, Abby.”  He kissed her on the cheek. “Now, let’s get you inside, you’re shivering out here in the fog.”

   Cliff walked her to the door and gave her another quick kiss on the cheek. “I have to get right back to Sacramento, sweetheart. I’ll call you when I'm back in town again," he said.

     Good night, Cliff, we'll talk when you get back," she said.

   Abby climbed the stairs to her bedroom on leaden legs. Her ambivalence about Cliff really bothered her.  Was he a bigot or was she just touchy?  She thought back over past arguments, usually he could explain away what he said. 
     She really wished he would date other women.  She didn't have any desire to settle down with Cliff, or anyone else.  She didn't date anyone else but that didn't involve Cliff, it was because she didn't know anyone else she wanted to date.  Cliff seemed to misinterpret that into a monogamous relationship.

   Still shivering she pulled on one of her floor length, flannel, granny gowns and a pair of wool socks then padded downstairs and turned on the tea kettle.  Waif paced and grumbled waiting for her to settle in someplace. Abby noticed there were lights next door since she had come in.

   She padded back upstairs and snuggled under the covers before sipping the hot tea.  Waif finally curled up at the foot of the bed. Abby thought that it was kind of nice having the house next door occupied, knowing someone was sleeping nearby.  She slid down in the bed and was asleep in minutes warmed by the tea and pleasant thoughts.
@ 2013 May Karen maceanruig

FLIGHT FROM OBSESSION - CHAPTER ONE

    Long legs and short, sun streaked hair along with a ready sense of humor and a deep understanding of her field made Abby a popular professor at Trinity State, but that wasn't making it any easier for her fidgeting students to wait for the final bell of the term.  A warm, early spring day had beckoned from outside the windows distracting both students and professors through final exams.  She sighed; she and her colleagues had one more week to finish before their break would begin.  It would go fast enough, she thought as she gathered up the final exam papers her class turned in.    

     Abby joined the crush of students in the corridors as they escaped their classrooms and poured out into the sunshine.  She crossed to her vintage, candy-apple red Volkswagen camper in the faculty parking lot and dumped the final exams onto the passenger seat and then slid behind the wheel.  Her camper, restored by a retired Mercedes mechanic, was the object of much teasing by her fellow professors but it wowed the student population.  She fell in love with it the day her retired neighbor brought it home to restore.   

     Phantom of the Opera floated from the windows as the little red camper skimmed toward home along the road winding through green, gently rolling hills scattered with farms and vineyards.  Splashes of yellow, blue and lavender wildflowers decorated the hillsides while noisy red-winged blackbirds called out territorial warnings from fence posts and scarecrows mutely watched great flocks of birds swooping down on black, plowed fields, foraging for the recently planted seeds.  She thought, not without irony, “Behold the fowls of the air:  for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet our heavenly Father feeds them.”*

     Abby slowed as she neared the Tanaka’s open air produce stand on a wide out in the road.  The elder Tanakas were born in a Japanese detention camp during WWII but they didn't allow the adversity of that experience to taint their lives; instead, they had married, rebuilt the family business, and raised a new generation of strong, self-reliant children. 

     “Hi, Mrs. Tanaka,” she called out to the slight woman who operated the produce stand while her husband and boys ran their truck farm and delivered their produce north and south along interstate 5 and state highway 101. 

     Abby and Mrs. Tanaka chatted together for several minutes as Abby selected from the inviting array of fruits and vegetables. 

     “How is my youngest son doing in your anthropology class,” Mrs. Tanaka asked?

     “He’s doing very well but I think he’s having a hard time pinning down his major.”

     “Yes,” she laughed, “he’s restless and finds it difficult to focus on one thing.  I hope he behaves in class?”

     “I wish all of my students were as well behaved and as eager to learn as your son.  Whatever field he finally chooses, he will do well.”

     After ringing up Abby’s purchases, Mrs. Tanaka walked over to the flower display and retrieved a bouquet of fresh flowers giving them to Abby, “These are from my garden at home.”

     Delighted, Abby took them and smelled their soft fragrance, “They will look wonderful in one of my pewter pitchers," she said, thanking Mrs. Tanaka as she gathered her bundles and stowed them in the back of the camper.  She waved as she pulled out onto the road. What a lovely, gracious woman, Abby thought to herself.

     Farms and sunny meadows soon gave way to steep, timbered hillsides until the road   felt almost like a tunnel through the dense redwood forest.  

     Cresting the last hill on the way home, it became bright and sunny again as rugged coastline stretched out in both directions.  The afternoon sun glistened on the water as swell after swell came crashing toward the cliffs turning rock into sand through eons of time.  Local fishing boats tacked back and forth searching for schools of fish while further out on what seemed the edge of the world a tanker moved south in the shipping lane. 

     A native of the Mideast Abby decided soon after her arrival in California that if she could ever afford a home it would be here, near the scents, sounds, and colors of the sea.  

     Trinity Cove grew from the shore inland beginning with the commercial fishing pier and fish processing plant built on pilings over the water. At water’s edge stood an old cafe which served breakfast to the commercial fishermen and next door a weathered bait shop and boat ramp squatted in the weeds.  Abby was reminded of "Cannery Row" when she passed this stretch of the harbor.

     She made a sharp right and the road widened into a street of high curbs and false front buildings including a post office, general store, and soda fountain.  Several other small businesses, art galleries and antique shops struggled for the scant tourist dollar while even more stood vacant and boarded up reflecting tough times.

     She stopped while a group of very happy young ladies carrying balloons and ice cream cones straggled across the street while a harried young mother tried to keep them gathered together.

    Abby parked in front of Gurney’s General Store and grabbed a sweater from the back of the camper.  Fred Gurney was stacking cans on a display when she entered the store.  Fred was a skinny man with an acidic tongue and pessimistic nature who seemed to thrive on conspiracies and dire predictions.  She could see he was heading her way and it would be impossible to avoid him so she took a deep breath and braced herself.

     “Hi, Fred, beautiful day,” she said. 

     “Young lady, we got us a strange lawyer been snooping around town and up to the county seat,” he said.

     Abby tried to ask a question but Fred was on a roll and had an audience.

     “You just mark my words, young lady,” he said shaking his finger in her face, “he’s up to no good.”

     Stepping back, she asked, “How do you know he’s a lawyer, Fred, and up to something bad for the cove?”

     “Why, I know he’s a lawyer cause Judge Allen’s boy went to law school with him and he’s one of those 'city slickers' from LA.”

     Not much substance there, she thought, “Fred let’s wait until we know what’s going on before we get all upset.”

     “Just mark my words, young lady, you been warned,” he mumbled all the way to the back room, offended that she had taken his news so lightly. 

     “My husband been bending your ear, Abby?”

     “Hi, Aunt Bessie, he did seem riled up,” she answered as she filled the shopping cart with her weekly supplies.

     Aunt Bessie had mothered Abby since she arrived in town, a mothering Abby accepted easily since she had lost her own mother when she was seven.

     “Fred’s worry button has a hair trigger,” she smiled and patted Abby’s hand.

     Abby finished her shopping and when she got to the checkout counter Fred was still in the back.  Probably listening to one of those talk radio shows he seemed to thrive on.

     Aunt Bessie totaled up her purchases and Abby wrote a check.  

     “Don’t forget the church pot luck this Sunday,” Aunt Bessie reminded her.

     Abby smiled, Aunt Bessie was the last advocate for the old church on Second Street.  She managed to get a once a month preacher from one of the larger inland towns and she kept up regular Sunday school classes for the children of the cove.  Her last Sunday of the month potlucks were well attended by the townspeople and served as a sounding board for the community.

     “I wouldn’t miss it for anything, Aunt Bessie.  I’ll be there with my favorite casserole,” she smiled into Bessie’s kind face.

     “See you Sunday,” she waved as she left the store and loaded the last of her purchases into the back of the camper. 

     She left the harbor and wound up the bluff feeling that surge of anticipation she always felt just before her new home came into view.  It was one of a dozen or so built by the logging executives when Trinity Cove was a rough and tumble logging town supplying the growing frontier with building material.

     She pulled into her driveway to discover that the vacant house next door had come to life.  Doors and windows were open and as she stood by her camper wondering what was going on a tall man with a load of trash came out of the backdoor.

     “Hello,” she called?

     When he saw her the man set the trash on a growing pile and ambled toward her wiping his hands on his jeans.  

     He extended his hand and said, “I guess we’re neighbors if this is your house?”

     “Yes, I’m Abby Cavanaugh and this is my home, but I wasn't aware I was getting a new neighbor.”

     “Not so new," he laughed, "I grew up in this house.” 

     “Good heavens,” she said, “you must be Agatha Wyatt’s nephew.”  Her small hand was engulfed in his warm grasp.

     “Guilty as charged,” he said, “but how could you know Aunt Agatha?”

    She smiled, “Aunt Bessie still talks about her.  I guess they were quite a duo in their day.”

     “Bessie Gurney,” he asked and added at her nod, “I haven’t had a chance to look up old friends yet.  How is Aunt Bessie?”

     “Priceless,” Abby answered.

     “She is that,” he said, “And old Fred?”

     She grinned, “As gloomy as Aunt Bessie is cheerful.”

     He laughed, “I got double teamed as a kid, Aunt Agatha and Aunt Bessie both kept my butt in line.”

     She pictured him as a little boy with frogs and marbles in his pockets and boyhood adventures filling his head.  
     “You had a great upbringing,  if one didn't  catch you the other one would,” she teased him. 

     He grinned and she found herself looking into his laughing brown eyes and flushed.  Self-consciously, she moved to the back of the camper to retrieve the groceries.

     “Here let me help with those,” he said.    

     “That’s not necessary; you probably lugged things in and out all day.”

     “No trouble,” he said, “I’m practicing being neighborly now that I’m going to be living in a small town again.  My neighbor's were strangers in Los Angeles," he said.      

     He followed her to the backdoor and waited as she fit her key into the lock.    

     Abby had turned the old back porch into a sun room with brick floors, lots of plants and a cast iron Franklin stove.  White wicker furniture, picked up at a garage sale, repainted and fitted with bright, blue print cushions created a cozy nook with an enchanting view of the cove. Her black cat looked up and stretched before jumping to the floor and coming over to investigate the stranger she had been watching all afternoon.      

     He leaned down to pet the cat, “Wow, what a great room for coffee and the Sunday paper,” he exclaimed.    

      Abby walked on into the kitchen with the cat following. “Thanks,” she said, “I found the cat out on the pier when she was so tiny she could barely totter around. I couldn’t just leave her there so home she came.  

     He carried the groceries into the renovated kitchen and went back out for the last of the packages while she fed the cat. 

     “I can see from what you did to this house that there are endless possibilities,” he said, bringing in the last of the groceries.

     "I lived in the house for a while before I made any renovations, ideas will come to you,” she said.
     “Thanks for the help, and if there’s anything I can do to help your move, please let me know.” She was already at the sink washing produce. 

      “As a matter of fact, unless you did all of this work yourself, you could help me with the names of carpenters, electricians, plumbers and other craftsmen around town.  I’m afraid I’m not very handy with tools,” he admitted. 
     She laughed, “I did most of the furniture refinishing myself but I’m afraid the rest of the work was outside my area of expertise.  I’ll make a list for you.”    

      “I’d appreciate that,” he said, “By the way, is there a restaurant nearby?  My kitchen’s not in working order yet.”    

     “I’m afraid the only cafe is down by the docks and it’s probably closed by now.  The Bed and Breakfast isn't open for the season yet.  You’ll have to drive inland.”  

     I probably should invite him to dinner she thought to herself.  After all he’s not a complete stranger and he was going to be her new neighbor.

     “Unless you’re starving, why don’t you come back in an hour and have dinner here.  Just what I was planning on fixing for myself,” she warned.

     “I really don’t want to put you to any trouble,” he said.

     “It won’t be any trouble.  I have to cook anyway and I was planning on a seafood casserole. Do you like seafood?”

     “I love seafood and I’d be delighted to accept your kind invitation.  Just don’t go to any extra trouble,” he waved and went out the backdoor.

     Waif was circling her feet and protesting the lack of attention she had received.  Abby bent down and picked her up. 

     “Well, Waif, it looks like we’re having company for dinner and I don’t even know his name.  Mr. Wyatt, I guess,” she stroked the cat until she rumbled with purrs. 

     While the greens were draining in a large copper colander she put together the simple shrimp and wild rice casserole she planned and put on some left over split pea soup to warm slowly. That should be plenty with sour dough French bread and some of Aunt Bessie’s peach cobbler from the freezer.  
     Before she went upstairs for a quick shower and change of clothes she threw caution to the winds and put a bottle of Mendocino Riesling in to cool.

     After a quick shower she fluffed her hair and threw on some jeans and a tee shirt then went back downstairs.  
     She was assembling the spinach salad when he tapped on the back door.

     “Come in,” she called. 
     “I’m just finishing up,” she said as he came in and joined her.          
     He was still in Levi's but he had a clean shirt on and his hair was slicked back.

     If you’re not driving there’s a bottle of wine cooling in the refrigerator and an opener there on the sideboard. 
     She set the pewter pitcher of fresh flowers in the middle of the table and added place mats, china and crystal. 

     “Good choice of wine,” he said as he poured them both a glass. 
     “Are the flowers from your garden,” he asked?

     “A friendly gift from Mrs. Tanaka,” she said.

      “Any kin to Ken Tanaka,” he asked?

      “Yes, Ken’s her oldest, did you know the boys?”

     He grinned, “Ken and I grew up together, played baseball on the same team.”

     “Ken and Sherry are growing their own team now.  Wait until you meet his kids.”

     “I can see that I have a lot of catching up to do,” he laughed, watching her move comfortably, around the kitchen very unlike the brittle, coiffed, manicured; gym fit women he met in LA. 

     She picked up her glass of wine and joined him at the window seat where he watched night descend on the cove and lights come on in town. 

     “It just occurred to me that I don’t know your name,” she said.

     Looking startled, he set his wine glass down and said, “I’m usually not so socially awkward,” he laughed sheepishly. 

     “Name’s, Thomas Yancy Wyatt, Attorney at Law,” he announced, with a flourish and bow.

     “And this is ‘Saturday Night Live,’” she proclaimed, giggling at both of them. 

     He laughed at her silliness, liking her even better. 

    As an inkling of a suspicion began to form in her mind, she laughed even harder. She tried to speak but put her hand over her mouth when nothing intelligible came out. 

     Finally under control, she asked, “You weren’t by any chance up at the county seat yesterday, were you?  And did you, by any chance go to law school with Judge Allen’s son?”

     “You’re leading the witness counselor, but yes, to both of your questions,” he laughed along with her.

     “I think,” Abby said quite seriously, “that I was gossiping about you, today, Mr. Thomas Yancy Wyatt.”

     She was giggling again but managed to convey the jest of her earlier conversation with Fred Gurney and her suspicion that Tom was the ‘city slicker’ who’d been ‘snooping’ around town.

     Tom got it, and said, “Poor old Fred, ‘hoisted on his own petard,’ I’ll have to go down tomorrow and set his mind at rest.”

     Abby wasn't accustomed to entertaining strange men, alone in her home but she was unusually relaxed with Tom. 

     “We’re having one of Aunt Bessie’s Church Social’s, Sunday. Why don’t you come and surprise everyone.  It’ll turn into a real party and Aunt Bessie will love it?”   

     “That sounds great,” he said with amusement, “especially if you let me tag along with you. Remember, when I left for college I wasn't much more than a boy and you could introduce me around again.”

     “Sure, I’d be glad to do that.  I don’t want to miss the look in Aunt Bessie’s eyes when she sees you.”  
     Then she said, “You must be starving by now.”

     She placed the casserole on a trivet and a covered basket of warm, sour dough French bread on the table and then filled their water goblets from a glass pitcher of lemony ice water.

     He watched as she filled two bowls with the savory soup he smelled since coming in the kitchen. She caught his eye and they both seated themselves. 

     She lowered her head and said a short blessing for the food before them.

     Tom barely caught himself before reaching for his soup spoon as she said grace. 

     “I’ll bet you’re starving, help yourself,” she said.

     “You almost caught me napping when you said grace,” he admitted, “I picked up some bad habits and lost some good ones over the years.”

     “I was pretty unfocused when I got to Trinity Cove,” she said, “Aunt Bessie took me in hand.”

     The soup was thick and hearty with chunks of ham and potato and the French bread was warm from the oven with real butter.  
     He groaned his pleasure as he said, “Manna from heaven, served by the Good Samaritan.”

     “You’re mixing two testaments and mangling two stories,” she laughed as she took their soup bowls to the sink and brought more warm bread to the table.

     She took the cover off of the casserole, placed the spinach salad on the table and told him to dig in.

     He grinned, “I’m glad Aunt Bessie wasn't here, I could get away with all of that mixing and mangling most places but I’m a graduate of Aunt Bessie’s Sunday school and I’d never get away with it around her.”

     “This is a real treat and all homemade,” he said, “So good after all of the fast food between here and LA.”

     “Actually, the soup was left over from earlier in the week and the casserole is very easy,” she said, “the bread and salad are ‘gimme’s’.”

     “Thoroughly, Modern Millie,’ ‘gimmie, gimmie, gimmie,” he asked?

     She grinned, “I love musicals,” she said.

     “All theater for me,” he said, “from Shakespeare to Mike Nichols.”  

     “Just out of curiosity, are you going to be opening a law office here in town,” she asked?

     “I will be opening a small practice, probably in one of the rooms downstairs if zoning allows it,” he said. 
     "I wrote a law text a few years ago and currently, I'm researching coastal law. My publisher advanced me enough to work on a new text, mostly, boring to the layperson,” he smiled.  

     “Not if it includes off shore oil drilling, territorial fishing rights, and environmental protection,” she said. 

     “Well,” he said, grinning at her obvious interest, “it does, and I testified before several government agencies on the disposal of nuclear waste the last couple of years. What is your particular interest,” he asked?

     She said, shyly, “I’m an Anthropology professor at Trinity State and I also work closely with the local Native American's on fishing rights, methods and other issues.”

     “All right professor, good for you,” he said as he gave her a high five over the china and crystal. 

     “Now that we've 'broken bread' together, Abby Cavanaugh, I think we should be on a first name basis.”

     “Tom and Abby it is then.  Would you like to light the fire while I get coffee and dessert,” she asked?

     She cleared the table and ground fresh coffee beans while he lit the fire.  He sat down on the braid rug in front of the fire and when Abby joined him they sipped coffee in contented silence, quietly watching the flames flicker around the logs.   

     Soon she got up and brought more coffee and bowls of warm peach cobbler with vanilla ice cream.  
     “The cobbler is from Aunt Bessie,” she said, “taking a big bite.”

     “I’d forgotten how good food could taste,” he said, “I was thinking I couldn't eat another bite and here I am wolfing down peach cobbler.”

     “I think the secret to good food is fresh ingredients,” she told him.

      “And good company,” he added, “It’s been such a great evening, Abby.  An evening I didn't look forward to spending alone with my memories.  I’ll sleep like a baby, now.”

      She watched the fire play on his face.  He had a strong face but there was also kindness showing.

      He got up, clearly with reluctance, and carried their dishes and cups to the sink. 

     "Thank you again for the great food and companionship, I’m really looking forward to Sunday. What time should we go,” he asked?

     “About one thirty would be fine and I had a nice time too,” she responded.    

     He slipped out the back door, reminding her to lock up after him. 

    She yawned while she tidied up and then locked up and went upstairs to fall asleep as soon as he crawled into bed. 
@ 2013 karenmaceanruig