Jason and Connie walked up to her house, hand in hand. "This is our house now," said Connie. "Not just mine anymore."

"I've never really had a home since I left Dad's—just places I lived. Apartments."

"It was fun coming over to yours. Watching movies, eating popcorn…."

"I could keep it. We could go over there for a night out or something. Like the old days."

She laughed. "I like the new days better." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and led him into the house. He was stepping into his new home with her for the first time. The home they could live in for the rest of their lives.

For some reason, the thought of being settled down didn't scare him. He didn't feel trapped into commitment with her—on the contrary, he felt like he was starting out on a new adventure, new wonders each day, getting to know her deeper, love her, care for her. She was the adventure now, and he wouldn't trade the life he was stepping into for anything else in the world.

"So, shall I give you a tour?" said Connie.

Jason nodded. Even the familiar house seemed new, now that it was his too. There were, of course, places he had never been—and places he'd just peeked into, like her bed room.

"You're not too tired?" he said.

"I slept on the flight. I'm a little too hyper now to settle down yet."

"It doesn't matter how long we sleep in in the morning, because we're still on our honeymoon. We can do whatever we want."

"We need that."

She swept through the house with him, showing him the living room in a mock-tour-guide voice.

Then she led him to the attic, where he'd never been before. He barely squeezed through the doorway into the dusty room filled with toy boxes and Christmas decorations. Christmas—another time he looked forward to sharing with her.

He crept forward, having to lean over because of the low slanted ceiling, the dim light from the murky window shining in. Connie turned on the light, but it hardly brightened the room much more than it already was. He knelt beside her.

"I found this when I was looking through Mom's things after she died." She took a key from on top of the box beside it, and twisted it in the lock. "See this?" she said, pointing to the paper taped beneath the lid. "It says, 'For Connie. When she has kids."

"We don't have any kids yet."

"We're going to soon, aren't we?" She looked at him, guarded excitement in her eyes.

"I hope so. I'm really looking forward to starting a family with you, Connie Kendall Whittaker."

"Me too! I can just imagine little Jasons running around."

"And Connies. How many do you want?"

"I don't know. Three always seemed perfect to me—but more would be okay too. Maybe I'll just see if I can handle one first."

"I wonder what a combination of you and me will look like."

"I can't wait to see our baby! Hold him in my arms."

"Him?"

She shrugged. "I kind of think of it as a boy already, don't ask why. I really don't care what it is though."

"He could have your nose."

"And your eyes."

"And your lips." He kissed her softly. "I can't wait to see him, hold him."

"I just had a crazy idea," she said. "What if it's twins?"

"Things would be pretty wild—but that would be fun, going from just the two of us, to four."

"It might not be so fun for me, with-you know."

"Oh, that's true. Maybe not then. I wish you didn't have to bear all the inconvenience and pain—if I could, I'd take some of it for you."

"Yeah, it really isn't fair, is it?" She smiled. "But you can help me in lots of ways. Like getting ice cream at two in the morning. Anyway, you've had enough pain for two lifetimes. It's my turn."

"Except we both bear the responsibility for bringing a child into the world—you just get the hardest part."

She shrugged. "That's what being a mom is like. Besides, I gave my mom my share of trouble. I deserve a little bit in return."

"I will try to bear my share of the burden of parenting."

She smiled a little sadly. "I don't really know what that's like—at least, not firsthand. My dad was barely at home when I was little, and then when they got a divorce….

"I know you won't leave me. You'll be an amazing father."

"I will try. I haven't always been the best role model in the past—but with kids around, it'll have to be different. I love you—and I already love them, even though they haven't been born yet."

She smiled, a tear in her eye. It slipped onto her cheek. "I love them too."

He brushed back her tear, and wrapped his arm around her. She leaned her head against his shoulder. He laid his hand gently over her stomach. "They could be here, right now."

She pressed her hand over his. "A baby," she said. "Wow, just thinking about it…it's amazing. Then again…we might not have one for a while. Or we might adopt, like Eugene and Katrina."

"Or it could even stay just the two of us…."

"That would be okay, too. I mean, you're enough for me. And we have a lot of kids in our lives as it is.

"But I do want kids. I always did, in the back of my mind. And I really want to see what our babies will look like. To watch them grow up together—for us to be parents together—I want that so much, Jason."

"He or she will probably be a mixture of both of us—but she'll be her own person, too. There's no way to know what she'll be like till she gets here."

She smiled. "Maybe it will be a girl. Do you have any ideas for names?"

"What about June?"

"Oh, Jason…." A tear sparkled in her eye. "After Mom…. Or that could be her middle name. I don't want to settle on anything too soon—It's only just our honeymoon after all….It seems like we've been married for a long time. I mean—you know what I mean."

He nodded. "Paraguay. Even that feels kind of distant for some reason. Probably because of the relief that nothing came of it. I got rescued before the worst could happen."

"I can't get over how I almost lost you."

"I would have never given up, though. I'd always try to find a way back to you. And even if I didn't—I wouldn't betray you. I'd always be yours no matter what they did."

"I would never stop looking for you, either, Jason. I'd risk my life and my freedom if I had to."

A twinge of fear tingled through him at the prospect. "I'm glad you didn't have to. God worked everything together."

"Do you think we should have gone there at all?"

"The part that was our honeymoon was perfect. And besides my mistakes—yes, I think God wanted us to go there. It's brought some closure in a way. I found out Gray is more receptive to God now, partly because of how I forgave him. I hope that he keeps seeking the truth."

"As much as I don't see how you could forgive him—I'm glad you did. I hope you never have to go through something like that again. If so, I'll do anything I can to stop it."

"But if God wants me to—"

"He has to know you need a break, at least."

"So we can start our family. We still have a honeymoon for the rest of the week. What do you want to do?"

"I don't know. Just take it as it comes, I guess. I'm getting tired now…."

"Want to go to bed?"

"Let me show you a couple of these pictures first." She brought out some of her old pictures from grade school, and he immersed in her past. He couldn't get enough of knowing more about her, who she'd been, and how it made her who she was.

After they were done, they walked down the attic stairs. It was about 11:00. Jason picked her up in his arms, and carried her to their room.

He laid her down on the bed. He had hardly been in her bed room before. It was decorated, Connie-style, without any of his things moved in yet. There wasn't much he needed to bring over anyway. Soon he'd go get boxes of some of his stuff at the apartment….sell the rest. Tomorrow or the next day….whenever he got around to it.

Exhaustion swept over him. But he still had to go downstairs and get his pajamas. He went downstairs and carried up both of their suitcases. By the time he got back upstairs, she was dressed in a silky blue nightgown, and was tucked in bed, propped up on the pillows.

She patted the bed beside her. "This is the first time you're sleeping in here with me."

For some reason, he still felt a little out of place here…it was her room, and he was a guest. It was different when they were at the hotel—they were both travelers. This was her house. Even though he'd been here before, even though they'd been married for over a week, it felt like he was traversing new territory, and didn't want to overstep his bounds in any way.

He sat down beside her. She crept up behind him, and pressed her fingers into his shoulder. A new ache sprang into being, but at the same time it tingled, as if un-knotting….She massaged both shoulders just below his neck—every muscle ached, but he leaned into her touch—

She went lower, and a sharp pain shot through his back—he gasped.

"I'm sorry! Should I stop?"

"No—feels good. Just— a lot of tension."

She continued, pressing to his ribs—he cried out, and flinched away.

"Jason—what is it?"

"Not your fault."

"This is more than just tension. Let me see."

She helped him lift his shirt off. She gasped. Her fingertips brushed his back ever so lightly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"You're all black and blue back here." She crawled over the bed to face him. "And—" She shook her head, her face flushed. He looked down; his stomach and ribs blossomed with bruises. Come to think of it, the guards had punched and kicked him a few times—then there was the time he jumped out of the moving truck….it was just that, nowadays, any time he was able to walk away from something, it was a win.

She touched the edge of the worst bruise, so delicately she couldn't possibly hurt him. "I thought they didn't torture you."

"They didn't. Just beat me up a little bit when I was trying to escape."

"And you didn't think you should tell me?"

"It didn't seem important."

"Jason—"

"Nothing's broken. I just need some rest—and the bruises will be gone after a month or so. I hardly noticed them—partly because of the painkillers, and partly because this is nothing compared to what I've experienced before."

She laid a hand on his arm. "This isn't nothing. Even though it's been a lot worse—it's still too much. I just don't want you to get hurt ever again. I just wish I could take some of it myself, so you didn't have to feel it."

"I never want you to have to go through what I have. I'd put myself through it a hundred times before I let it happen to you."

"I'd protect you, too. At the cost of my own life."

"I'm not worth your life."

"You are to me. You can't stop me from loving you that much, so you might as well get used to it."

He touched her cheek, running his fingers softly down its smooth surface. "I just hope it never comes to that."

She nodded. "Meanwhile, you have to get better. Is there anything I can do?"

"Just being with you is enough."

"At least it's not like the other times, when I could barely touch you at all." She crawled back behind him and continued the massage, telling him of the time when he'd been unconscious in the hospital, and she'd given him her first kiss—on his forehead, one place where there weren't any injuries.

He wanted to start fresh—begin his new life. Do new things that weren't tainted with the past. That would take some time…but then, they were beginning already. He'd just moved in with her. And he now knew he could never totally escape the past—but he didn't have to dwell in it. He could let it inform his decisions, but he could move forward to an ever brighter future. Any future with Connie was going to be wonderful beyond his imagining.

He just had to go along with it, and see what happened.

She finished, and, relaxed, his muscles aching and tingling, he lay down beside her. She wrapped her arm around him, pressed close, snuggling against him so her cheek lay on his chest. He wrapped his arm around her, and, her warm body pressed up next to him, sleep crept up on him and enveloped him.

He woke up, Connie next to him. Sunlight from the window played over her face. Her arm was under his now, and his arm had somehow snuck beneath her, wrapped around her back.

She was so beautiful….The flawless sculpture of her temple, her cheekbone—Her lips, slightly parted, enticed him. A stunning work of art, untainted by the world. A sleeping angel that he dared not awake.

He could still not believe that someone so perfect existed, much less chose him. It made him fear to touch her—his touch could only bring her shame in some way. How could she accept the touch of someone so—earthly….but she did. In return, he had to please her with his entire being.

She stirred. Her eyes opened, entrancing him, pulling him toward her. She kissed his forehead.

"'Morning," he said.

A smile spread across her lips. "'Morning, Jason." She lay back on the pillow, the sunlight shimmering on her blue silk top, creating highlights and shadows.

She slipped her fingers into his hair, twirling it absently. "This is so nice," she said. "I want to stay here all day."

"There's nowhere we have to be. Except we might eventually want breakfast."

"Right now, you're all I need." She sat up, the covers swirled around her legs. She leaned down, kissed his cheek. Then his lips. The kiss grew, and built—he couldn't get enough of her. He needed more of her, always.

She ran her hand down over the scar on his cheek. There was still the impulse to flinch—but he resisted it. He knew she loved him, all his scars, even though he couldn't comprehend it.

"I'll get make you some breakfast," he said. "More like brunch."

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to. You just stay in bed. I'll make what you like best."

"I like you best." She yawned and stretched, cuddling into him. "You're so warm….I want to stay like this. Don't leave."

"I could order out. But then I'd still have to go down and get it. I really want to make you something."

"Okay. Don't stay away long. If you do, I'll have to come down and see if you got kidnapped."

"That's not going to happen."

"It's not worth letting you out of my sight to have breakfast if you might be kidnapped…."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Yes it does. You're beautiful, my Jason."

Heat rose to his cheeks. "I still don't know how you can see that."

"I don't know how you cannot see it, every time you look in the mirror. But I don't want a conceited husband, so it's all good." She waved an arm. "Go, so you can get back faster."

He laughed. "Okay." And he hurried down the stairs. Whipped up a breakfast of pancakes and bacon and eggs and toast and orange juice. Then carried them upstairs on a tray, steaming hot. He laid it down on the bed between them, and lay down, half-reclining, Roman-style. She sat up against the pillows, and picked up a piece of bacon. Bit into it. "This is good! It's especially wonderful since you made it. I can taste your love."

He laughed and took a bite of toast. "You're right; I did pour all my love into this. I'll always do that, with everything I do for you."

"I know." She sat back, crunching on toast. "This is so nice. I could lie here all day. "

"We can."

"But I might want to do something. I don't know what though." Her gaze flitted across his torso. "I hate seeing those."

"I'll put my shirt on."

"Don't, unless you're cold or something."

"Not really."

"I could look at you all day. It's just that those bruises look painful."

"Your love for me cancels out any pain."

They finished the rest of their breakfast, resulting in butter-stained and crumb-scattered sheets. Now they'd have to wash them. So they were forced to get up. Connie stood, the top quilt draped around her like the regalia of a queen. She walked downstairs while Jason went into the basement and shoved the sheets into the washing machine.

He sat down on the couch with her and they flipped on the TV. There was a movie on about an adventure in Australia, and they both got involved in watching it. Then some old TV shows like Green Acres and I Dream of Jeannie came on, and they couldn't resist watching them. By that time it was nearing 5:00 and Connie got up, insisting that she make supper. The quilt still draped around her, she traipsed into the kitchen, and soon the room was filled with a spicy aroma.

In a little while, she brought in a bowl of spaghetti and meatballs. She sat down beside him, and they ate the spaghetti together, then they shared the rest of the chocolate brownie ice cream from the freezer. Then they popped some popcorn and watched the first movie of The Lord of the Rings, cuddled up together under the quilt.

When it was over, they lay together, sleepy, in the dark.

"What do you want?" he asked. "I will give you anything, even unto the half of my kingdom."

"Well, what I want is—" she kissed his cheek—"you."

"You already have me."

She laughed. "Well, then—I can't really think of anything. Just never going anywhere again."

"I don't know if that's practical."

"Well, I know, but it's what I want. Right now, anyway. I can't imagine wanting anything more than I want you, and I have you."

"It's just that—I want to do as much as I can for you. You give me so much; I want to make sure I'm giving it to you in return. Is there anything I can get for you?"

"Hm….I can't really…." Her eyebrows shot up. "Well, there is one thing."

"What is it?"

"Raspberry Ripple. I want the secret."

"Connie…" he said in mock-horror.

"I'm a Whittaker now. You can't deny me."

"Well, okay." He outlined the recipe.

"So that's it! Now you and your dad don't just have to rely on each other. I'm excited to start making some."

"We can make some together."

"There's so much I want to do with you. Just do things with you, all day. That's all I want from life right now.…There's so much we haven't done yet that it'll take all our lives. How can we just do everyday stuff like jobs that take us away from each other? I don't want to leave you. I don't want this to end."

"Let's not think about that. Maybe we should go up to bed and—"

"Okay." She led him by the hand, and they went up the steps to the room that they shared.