Started: November 14, 2004
Completed: January 3, 2007
Revised and Reposted: November 16, 2007

Thanks to everyone from the UD Writer's Room for the support and encouragement that turned a little four-page idea into this story.

LONDON RAIN, Part 1

So every day I see you in some other face
They crack a smile, talk a while
Try to take your place
My memory serves me far too well
---George Michael, "Waiting For The Day"

Omnia Omnibus Ubique: All Things, For All People, Everywhere.

That was Harrods motto and one of the reasons Sue Ellen Lockwood loved shopping there. From a table in the Caffé Espresso near the Fruit and Vegetable Food Hall, she surveyed the crowd of holiday shoppers hurrying by. Accents from different countries floated through the air and the exotic array of dress customs blended beautifully with the colorful displays of fruits and holiday decorations, making the whole scene very charming.

As with each visit to the store, Sue Ellen secretly hoped to spot an American in the crowd. After several years of living in London, she savored any reminder of home especially on days she was feeling homesick, particularly during the holidays.

She shook her head and smiled, gently chastising herself. London was her home now and she was happy there. Don, her very British husband, had eased her transition from Dallas to London, helping her assimilate many of the quirks of British culture. It made living in the sprawling city much easier. But there were things she still missed about America. She missed Texas most of all. What was that old saying of Jock Ewing's ... "you could take the Texan outta' Texas, but Texas stayed in your blood for good."

The recollection made her softly giggle. Jock Ewing. How she still missed that man, along with his wife, Miss Ellie. Even as terrified as she had been of them when she first went to live at Southfork, they ended up being more like her parents than her real parents were. And she loved them both dearly. Too bad they had raised such a rotten son.

A mischievous, playful expression flickered across her face at the thought of her ex-husband. J.R. was without a doubt the most infuriating person she had ever encountered. He had an uncanny way of knowing just how to manipulate her, both in love and anger, and had even nearly destroyed her life on several occasions. Yet without his influence she wouldn't be where she was today … happily married and running several successful business ventures.

A therapist long ago, during the days she fought her alcoholism, had explained she could either be pathetic or powerful. After years of J.R.'s abuse, Sue Ellen had finally chosen powerful, learning how to do just that from than the master himself.

Power was an essential part of J.R.'s life, just like breathing, and he wielded it like a weapon. Sue Ellen had secretly studied him, observing the ways he maneuvered and manipulated situations in his favor then turned his own tactics against him. She ended up besting him several times and the heady feel of holding even a small amount of power over him finally let her understand him, probably better than anyone else ever had. The only difference was she had been able to walk away from it all when she had her revenge and her quiet life in London now seemed that much sweeter because of it.

Oh, but when they did battle, it had been some of the most exciting, daring moments of her life. Moments her mamma had always said real ladies never engaged in. Mamma didn't know what she was missing.

As her thoughts continued to drift though memories of the past, she looked out once more across the sea of shoppers. At a distance, as if conjured up out of her daydreams, her heart involuntarily leapt when she could just make out a rarity in London: the familiar shape of a cowboy hat. She blinked several times. Perhaps she had just wished she had seen it. Yet when she looked again, it was still there ... and coming closer.

It was an excellent hat, obviously high quality, the crisp brim and peak made of an elegant mist grey felt set off by a discreet band of matching silk. Sue Ellen unconsciously smiled as she wondered what kind of man would wear a hat like that in London. It couldn't be someone aspiring to the western look. No, that hat was the subtle kind only an American born and raised in the southwest would choose. Judging by the quality, probably someone with money.

Intrigued, she sat back in her chair and sipped her coffee, hoping the owner would continue to walk in her direction. Then she caught a brief glimpse of the owner's face and began to cough violently, nearly choking on the coffee she had just swallowed. She sat the cup down and tried to clear her throat as she desperately looked around, searching for any possible escape route. There was none. She would either have to sit there and pray she wouldn't be noticed or go to the cashier and hope to enter the crowd of people before the owner of the hat approached the café.

Sue Ellen stood up and darted toward the cashier then proceeded to drop the contents of her purse on the floor. As she ducked down to stuff the contents back into the leather bag, she tried desperately to control the tremble of her hands. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have just assumed the owner of the cowboy hat wasn't J.R.? Had she been away from him and Dallas for so long that the hard-won defenses she had erected against him over the years disappeared? And why was he in London? Another alarm sounded in her head … he was there to take John Ross home.

She had to get out of Harrods as soon as possible.

The remaining items were quickly collected off the floor and put back in her purse then she went to the cashier, not daring to look back.

"Keep the change," she said as she handed the cashier her check and a ten-pound note.

"Thank you, madam," the girl replied with a bright smile and looked over Sue Ellen's shoulder to her next customer. "I'll be right with you, sir."

Sue Ellen swiftly turned but only succeeded in running squarely into the chest of the waiting customer. They both stumbled back a few steps before he steadied her by placing his hands on her upper arms. Startled by both the proximity of the tall, strong stranger and embarrassed by her own clumsiness, Sue Ellen looked up into the bluest, most unwelcomingly familiar eyes.

"Hello, darlin'," came the soft, smooth drawl.