Summary: Jonathon gets a helping hand from a "Knight" in a shining Mustang.
"Perspectives"
by: Jonesy
Chapter One: The Long, Bad Day
Jonathon Kent straightened his tie. He was haggard, and he knew it. Worse yet, the man accross from him knew it too. He rubbed his face and winced momentarily and his fingertips brushed along a healing cut that he received from shaving several hours earlier. After making sure he had not reopened the wound, he straightened his tie, again.
After clearing his throat, Jonathon spoke, "Once again, Mr. Brighton, I want to thank you for seeing me personally."
The man looked up from the file on the desk before him. He was in his mid thirties, Jonathan guessed. Although, he decided the man had not aged gracefully. His dark hairline was rapidly receding, but the corporate jetsetter had tried to grow what little hair he had on the back of his scalp and comb it foward. What resulted resembled much like a stack of molding hay had been scattered indiscriminately on top of the man's pale cranium. Jonathan tried not to stare.
Jonathan quickly glanced away then looked at the man's eyes, though difficult through his coke bottle glasses, and saw his fate. And, it was not promising.
"Mr. Kent, once again, you have an excellent credit record, but this loan is . . . Well it's just not a sound investment."
Jonathon inched a little further up in his chair, "How can you say that? We've always paid on time and -"
The man raised his hand to silence him, "Mr. Kent, please. You know as well as I that this is not a question of delinquency. I, however, see no reason why our bank should stake money on a claim, that by numbers, will simply not pay off."
Jonathon could feel his blood pressure start to rise, "You don't understand, sir, how we can ever hope to get anywhere if we don't have the money to try and expand? Have a heart, man."
Mr. Brighton closed the folder and steepled his finges, "Mr. Kent, you don't get far in this business by having a heart. I'm sorry, that's just the way it is, " he reached into breast pocket and retrieved a business card, "If you'd like, have your local representative call me, and I'll look into refinancing you current loan. That's all I can do for you."
Jonathon stood up silently, and took the card. He slipped it into his pocket, trying hard not crush it has he did so. Brighton handed him the folder and glanced down at his desk, made no offer to shake his hand, and dismissed him by clearing his throat.
Jonathon sighed and let his arms drop to his sides in defeat. He turned slowly and began to work his way over to the elevator. He entered the small shiny room and pressed the button for the lobby. With a polite ding the door began to close, and with it, his hopes.
"Hold that, will you?"
Jonathan quickly put his arm through the quickly closing gap between the doors, and they retreated at his touch. Another occupant now entered, slightly out of breath.
He looked no more then twenty two or three, but carried himself much more maturely than a man of his age. He wasn't very tall, but he was broad, though his build was more lean than stout. The man's dark black hair and piercing blue-grey eyes reminded him of Jonathon's own son.
The man cought his breath as the doors resumed their course shut and patted Jonathon on the upper arm in thanks, "You're the nicest guy I've met all day."
Jonathon smiled in response and scratched the back of his neck, "No problem."
The young man looked at Jonathon and noticed his loosened tie and haggard face. "Just get off a long shift?"
Jonathon was not really interested in conversation right now, but he quickly remembered his manners and smiled slightly, "Oh, no. I don't work in the building."
The polite, albeit talkative, man smiled, "Me either, I was just upstairs closing a deal. How 'bout you?"
The older man sighed and ran his hands though his hair, "Something like that."
The young man decided not to push the issue, noting the tone in his co-passenger's voice. He loosened his own tie just as the elevator came to rest in the lobby.
The main offices had all closed hours ago, so all the occupants left in the building were either janitorial staff, security, or those who decided to chain themselves to their desk is some futile attempt to get ahead of the rat race.
Even though the lobby and foyer were deserted, the young business man kept his distance from Jonathon, and the farmer was glad. He was not in the mood to be making any new friends, friends that were probably like that uptight sonofa-
"Goodnight, sir, drive carefully," the night door man said as Jonathan Kent exited the large tower and ambled slowly into the parking area. With a tip of his hat, he also allowed the man from the elevator to exit as well.
Jonathon Kent reached his blue pick-up and sat inside. After a second he decided to roll down the window. He cranked her down and with is other hand removed the tie that had been bothering him all night. He was very frustrated, and the cool night air offered him only the slightest comfort.
The young man who had joined him in the elevator was coincidentally parked only a few spaces down from where the Kent family truck was. Jonathon observed the man open his car door and toss in his suit coat, giving no care to wrinkles, and then rolled down his own windows.
Jonathon sighed, remembering what is was like to be young and care-free behind the wheel of a fast car, and turned the key in the ignition. Nothing happened. He tried again. Nothing, not even a clicking sound. He cursed to himself then looked at the console. He hadn't left the lights on, and the door hadn't been ajar.
In frustration he punched the wheel and was met only by a pathetic honk from the truck's horn. That note, he mused, almost exaclty matched mood for mood what he felt right now.
"Need a jump, friend?"
Jonathon looked over and saw the man from earlier walking over. "Yeah, if you don't mind." Jonathan pulled the hood release and slid out of the driver's seat. "I'd really appreciate it."
"No problem," he smiled and started walking back to his car, "What side is your battery on?"
"The left."
The man's car roared to life and with expert precision the young driver slid the car close next to the truck so that the driver's doors faced each other.
Jonathon whistled as he got a better look at the car. It was an old ford, and resembled a mustang fastback though more sleek. The young man got out and unlocked the racing straps and lifted the hood. Jonathon knew enough about cars to know this thing had muscle, if the size of the engine was any indication.
"Nice, a mustang isn't it?"
The man smiled in appreciation, "Yeah, it's a '69 Mach One, though I've slighltly modified it." He retrieved jumper cables from his trunk and slung them over his shoulder, "Now, let's see what we can do for you, friend."
The two men both attached their ends of the cable on the appropriate nodes on their batteries and slid behind the wheel of their repsective vehicles. The young man began revving the loud engine and gave Jonathon the thumbs up sign.
Jonathon nodded in reponse and tried turning the key again. Nothing. After a few more failed attempts the man shook his head and retrieved his keys.
The man with the 'stang frowned and retreived his cables. Before Jonathon could thank him for the try he had the truck's hood open again and was tinkering with a small tool kit.
"Hey, you really don't have to-"
The man cut him off, "Well I've got good news and bad news. I don't think it's your alternator. Although there's no spark out of your coil, but they're cheap to replace." He wiped his hands on a terry cloth towel and closed the hood, "But you aren't going anywhere in this soon, friend. Looks like this just isn't turning out to be your night."
Jonathon sighed and leaned against his truck, "You have no idea."
The man offered him a sympathetic glance, "Is there anywhere I can drop you, or call you a cab or something?"
"No thanks, I can get a hotel room in walking distance. I'll have to worry about this in the morning."
"You're not from around here?"
"Nah, I'm from Smallville, a little town a couple of hours from here. I appreciate your offer anyway."
"Hey, I'm not from around here either. I'm actually from Gotham City." He watched Jonathon shove his hands in his pockets and let out a long sigh. "Hold on a sec."
The man retreived a cell phone from his car and dialed quickly, after a second he spoke, "Hey, it's me. Yeah, don't wait up for me tonight . . . No . . . I'm going to help out a stranded smalltowner. I want you to have a tow truck pick up a blue GMC pick-up at Twining Valley tower. I'll call you back later, thanks, Alfred."
Jonathon was stunned, "Hey, you really don't have to-"
He raised his hand to silence him, "Please, think nothing of it. Like I said, you're the nicest guy I've met all day. Get in, I'll give you a lift home."
"Are you kidding, I don't even know you. You really don't have to go so far out of your way."
"Don't worry about it, I'm used to late nights. I won't take 'no' for an answer, friend."
Jonathon shook his head and disbelief and offered his hand, "Jonathan Kent."
"Nice to meet you, sir, I'm Bruce." Both men offered a firm handshake and Bruce grinned, "Now, hop in."
***
Jonathon's faith in humanity had been destroyed then restored all in one night. Bruce reminded him, he decided, a lot of Clark. Both were friendly, and seemingly generous to a fault.
In the few hours that Jonathon knew the boy he decided that he liked him. He was polite and respectful, and nowhere near fit the description of some stuffy city business man from Gotham.
"So you're from Gotham City?"
"Yes, sir, guilty as charged."
"I have to say you're awfully polite, you must have had good parents."
He seemed to brood on something for just a second, "Yeah -- I did." Jonathon was afraid that he might have alienated the boy by his off hand comment. Suddenly, Bruce looked up, "You might want to down shift into this curve."
Jonathon gave him a rougish smile, "Just watch, my boy." Jonathon raced the RPMs into the red, then hit the clutch twice in rapid succession, successfully pulling of a double clutch shift. The car hugged the curve then lurched forward into a straight away, chirping the tires in fourth gear.
Bruce let his grip loosen from the door handle and looked at the older man, "You drive like you've done this before."
Jonathon smiled, "When I was a kid I used to have an old Charger. She could have flown if she had wings."
Bruce smiled, "I figured you for a Mopar man."
"Thanks for letting me drive me this baby again."
Bruce shrugged, "Hey, you're the one who knows the way. I've never been if here before."
***
Jonathon handed Bruce a cold beer and joined him on the porch. "Well they're both asleep," he said quietly as he closed the screen door behind him.
Bruce popped open the cap and took a quick pull, "Martha and Clark, wasn't it?"
"Yeah, that's my family." He took a long drink from his bottle and leaned against the railing, "I'd do anything for them."
Bruced smiled as he took another pull, "They're lucky to have a husband and dad like you."
Jonathon shook his head, "No, a good man would be able to provide for his family."
"What do you mean?"
"It's really not your problem, Bruce. Something a man has to work out on his own." He finished his beer and rubbed his chin, as an afterthought he took out the business card the banker, Mr. Brighton had given him.
Bruce moved over next to him and looked at it, "MetroBank? Were you having money trouble?"
"They turned down my loan."
"Why's that?"
"Mr. Brighton thought my farm wasn't a sound business investment. We do organic farming here, and I guess the market doesn't seem a lot of return on that kind of thing. If he could just see how hard I would work, I know I could provide a better future for all of us." He sighed yet again, then scratched the back of his neck.
Jonathon and Bruce finished their beers in silence.
Finally Jonathon crossed over to the door, "Sorry, like I said, it's not your problem. Do you want another one?"
Bruce shook his head absently, "No thanks, I'm driving." He handed Jonathon his empty bottle and then put his hands in his pockets to ward off the chill brought about by a sudden breeze.
Jonathon returned from the house with another beer and sat on the porch swing. After a second Bruce joined him, "Let me see that card again."
"Sure, it won't do me any good," he said passing the card over to him.
Bruce took out a pen and scribbled another phone number on the card and passed the card back to him, "Tell Mr. Brighton to call this number, I don't think getting a loan would be all that difficult."
Jonathon frowned, "I don't understand."
"Jonathon, did I tell you my last name?"
He shrugged, "I never thought to ask."
Bruced stood and moved over to the steps, "It's Wayne."
Suddenly, Jonathon stood, "Bruce Wayne?"
Bruced nodded, "Thanks for your hospitality, Mr. Kent. I'm sure we'll meet again sometime. I'll have your truck sent down in the morning.
"Thank - Thank you, Mr. Wayne."
"Come on now, just a minute ago it was Bruce," he said with a lopsided grin.
Jonathon and Bruce shook hands, "I mean it, thanks for everything."
"Like I keep saying, you're the nicest guy I've met all day."
Jonathon smiled, "Let's just hope the bank thinks the same thing."
Bruced smiled and began walking to his car, "I wouldn't worry about the bank -- I own it."
Jonathon blinked, this really was the Bruce Wayne, "Well, aren't you worried this is a bad investment?"
Bruce opened his driver's door and for a second just looked at the farm. Then he turned his gaze back to Jonathon, "I prefer to believe in people."
Jonathon, for the first time all day, let a genuine smile cross his face, "Me too."
The 1969 Mustang Mach One grumbled to life and slowly growled down the small road on the Kent's farm. It turned onto the paved road and quickly flew up the way it had came, after a second Jonathon could only see it's tailights. After another second, it was gone.
Martha Kent walked out onto the porch pulling on her robe and yawning loudly, "What's all that noise?" She looked at the bottles on the porch rail, "Have you been out here drinking?"
Jonathon swept her up in his arms amd pulled her close, "We're going to be alright, Martha."
"You have been drinking!"
He only laughed and smoothed down her red hair with his hands, "I think we got the loan."
She suddenly hugged him fiercly, "Jonathon that's wonderful." For a moment they stayed in each others embrace, letting their relief seep into each other. After a moment, Jonathon felt his wife tense, "Sweetheart, where's the truck?"
***End***
Next Time: "Revelations at the Hibachi Grill"
"Perspectives"
by: Jonesy
Chapter One: The Long, Bad Day
Jonathon Kent straightened his tie. He was haggard, and he knew it. Worse yet, the man accross from him knew it too. He rubbed his face and winced momentarily and his fingertips brushed along a healing cut that he received from shaving several hours earlier. After making sure he had not reopened the wound, he straightened his tie, again.
After clearing his throat, Jonathon spoke, "Once again, Mr. Brighton, I want to thank you for seeing me personally."
The man looked up from the file on the desk before him. He was in his mid thirties, Jonathan guessed. Although, he decided the man had not aged gracefully. His dark hairline was rapidly receding, but the corporate jetsetter had tried to grow what little hair he had on the back of his scalp and comb it foward. What resulted resembled much like a stack of molding hay had been scattered indiscriminately on top of the man's pale cranium. Jonathan tried not to stare.
Jonathan quickly glanced away then looked at the man's eyes, though difficult through his coke bottle glasses, and saw his fate. And, it was not promising.
"Mr. Kent, once again, you have an excellent credit record, but this loan is . . . Well it's just not a sound investment."
Jonathon inched a little further up in his chair, "How can you say that? We've always paid on time and -"
The man raised his hand to silence him, "Mr. Kent, please. You know as well as I that this is not a question of delinquency. I, however, see no reason why our bank should stake money on a claim, that by numbers, will simply not pay off."
Jonathon could feel his blood pressure start to rise, "You don't understand, sir, how we can ever hope to get anywhere if we don't have the money to try and expand? Have a heart, man."
Mr. Brighton closed the folder and steepled his finges, "Mr. Kent, you don't get far in this business by having a heart. I'm sorry, that's just the way it is, " he reached into breast pocket and retrieved a business card, "If you'd like, have your local representative call me, and I'll look into refinancing you current loan. That's all I can do for you."
Jonathon stood up silently, and took the card. He slipped it into his pocket, trying hard not crush it has he did so. Brighton handed him the folder and glanced down at his desk, made no offer to shake his hand, and dismissed him by clearing his throat.
Jonathon sighed and let his arms drop to his sides in defeat. He turned slowly and began to work his way over to the elevator. He entered the small shiny room and pressed the button for the lobby. With a polite ding the door began to close, and with it, his hopes.
"Hold that, will you?"
Jonathan quickly put his arm through the quickly closing gap between the doors, and they retreated at his touch. Another occupant now entered, slightly out of breath.
He looked no more then twenty two or three, but carried himself much more maturely than a man of his age. He wasn't very tall, but he was broad, though his build was more lean than stout. The man's dark black hair and piercing blue-grey eyes reminded him of Jonathon's own son.
The man cought his breath as the doors resumed their course shut and patted Jonathon on the upper arm in thanks, "You're the nicest guy I've met all day."
Jonathon smiled in response and scratched the back of his neck, "No problem."
The young man looked at Jonathon and noticed his loosened tie and haggard face. "Just get off a long shift?"
Jonathon was not really interested in conversation right now, but he quickly remembered his manners and smiled slightly, "Oh, no. I don't work in the building."
The polite, albeit talkative, man smiled, "Me either, I was just upstairs closing a deal. How 'bout you?"
The older man sighed and ran his hands though his hair, "Something like that."
The young man decided not to push the issue, noting the tone in his co-passenger's voice. He loosened his own tie just as the elevator came to rest in the lobby.
The main offices had all closed hours ago, so all the occupants left in the building were either janitorial staff, security, or those who decided to chain themselves to their desk is some futile attempt to get ahead of the rat race.
Even though the lobby and foyer were deserted, the young business man kept his distance from Jonathon, and the farmer was glad. He was not in the mood to be making any new friends, friends that were probably like that uptight sonofa-
"Goodnight, sir, drive carefully," the night door man said as Jonathan Kent exited the large tower and ambled slowly into the parking area. With a tip of his hat, he also allowed the man from the elevator to exit as well.
Jonathon Kent reached his blue pick-up and sat inside. After a second he decided to roll down the window. He cranked her down and with is other hand removed the tie that had been bothering him all night. He was very frustrated, and the cool night air offered him only the slightest comfort.
The young man who had joined him in the elevator was coincidentally parked only a few spaces down from where the Kent family truck was. Jonathon observed the man open his car door and toss in his suit coat, giving no care to wrinkles, and then rolled down his own windows.
Jonathon sighed, remembering what is was like to be young and care-free behind the wheel of a fast car, and turned the key in the ignition. Nothing happened. He tried again. Nothing, not even a clicking sound. He cursed to himself then looked at the console. He hadn't left the lights on, and the door hadn't been ajar.
In frustration he punched the wheel and was met only by a pathetic honk from the truck's horn. That note, he mused, almost exaclty matched mood for mood what he felt right now.
"Need a jump, friend?"
Jonathon looked over and saw the man from earlier walking over. "Yeah, if you don't mind." Jonathan pulled the hood release and slid out of the driver's seat. "I'd really appreciate it."
"No problem," he smiled and started walking back to his car, "What side is your battery on?"
"The left."
The man's car roared to life and with expert precision the young driver slid the car close next to the truck so that the driver's doors faced each other.
Jonathon whistled as he got a better look at the car. It was an old ford, and resembled a mustang fastback though more sleek. The young man got out and unlocked the racing straps and lifted the hood. Jonathon knew enough about cars to know this thing had muscle, if the size of the engine was any indication.
"Nice, a mustang isn't it?"
The man smiled in appreciation, "Yeah, it's a '69 Mach One, though I've slighltly modified it." He retrieved jumper cables from his trunk and slung them over his shoulder, "Now, let's see what we can do for you, friend."
The two men both attached their ends of the cable on the appropriate nodes on their batteries and slid behind the wheel of their repsective vehicles. The young man began revving the loud engine and gave Jonathon the thumbs up sign.
Jonathon nodded in reponse and tried turning the key again. Nothing. After a few more failed attempts the man shook his head and retrieved his keys.
The man with the 'stang frowned and retreived his cables. Before Jonathon could thank him for the try he had the truck's hood open again and was tinkering with a small tool kit.
"Hey, you really don't have to-"
The man cut him off, "Well I've got good news and bad news. I don't think it's your alternator. Although there's no spark out of your coil, but they're cheap to replace." He wiped his hands on a terry cloth towel and closed the hood, "But you aren't going anywhere in this soon, friend. Looks like this just isn't turning out to be your night."
Jonathon sighed and leaned against his truck, "You have no idea."
The man offered him a sympathetic glance, "Is there anywhere I can drop you, or call you a cab or something?"
"No thanks, I can get a hotel room in walking distance. I'll have to worry about this in the morning."
"You're not from around here?"
"Nah, I'm from Smallville, a little town a couple of hours from here. I appreciate your offer anyway."
"Hey, I'm not from around here either. I'm actually from Gotham City." He watched Jonathon shove his hands in his pockets and let out a long sigh. "Hold on a sec."
The man retreived a cell phone from his car and dialed quickly, after a second he spoke, "Hey, it's me. Yeah, don't wait up for me tonight . . . No . . . I'm going to help out a stranded smalltowner. I want you to have a tow truck pick up a blue GMC pick-up at Twining Valley tower. I'll call you back later, thanks, Alfred."
Jonathon was stunned, "Hey, you really don't have to-"
He raised his hand to silence him, "Please, think nothing of it. Like I said, you're the nicest guy I've met all day. Get in, I'll give you a lift home."
"Are you kidding, I don't even know you. You really don't have to go so far out of your way."
"Don't worry about it, I'm used to late nights. I won't take 'no' for an answer, friend."
Jonathon shook his head and disbelief and offered his hand, "Jonathan Kent."
"Nice to meet you, sir, I'm Bruce." Both men offered a firm handshake and Bruce grinned, "Now, hop in."
***
Jonathon's faith in humanity had been destroyed then restored all in one night. Bruce reminded him, he decided, a lot of Clark. Both were friendly, and seemingly generous to a fault.
In the few hours that Jonathon knew the boy he decided that he liked him. He was polite and respectful, and nowhere near fit the description of some stuffy city business man from Gotham.
"So you're from Gotham City?"
"Yes, sir, guilty as charged."
"I have to say you're awfully polite, you must have had good parents."
He seemed to brood on something for just a second, "Yeah -- I did." Jonathon was afraid that he might have alienated the boy by his off hand comment. Suddenly, Bruce looked up, "You might want to down shift into this curve."
Jonathon gave him a rougish smile, "Just watch, my boy." Jonathon raced the RPMs into the red, then hit the clutch twice in rapid succession, successfully pulling of a double clutch shift. The car hugged the curve then lurched forward into a straight away, chirping the tires in fourth gear.
Bruce let his grip loosen from the door handle and looked at the older man, "You drive like you've done this before."
Jonathon smiled, "When I was a kid I used to have an old Charger. She could have flown if she had wings."
Bruce smiled, "I figured you for a Mopar man."
"Thanks for letting me drive me this baby again."
Bruce shrugged, "Hey, you're the one who knows the way. I've never been if here before."
***
Jonathon handed Bruce a cold beer and joined him on the porch. "Well they're both asleep," he said quietly as he closed the screen door behind him.
Bruce popped open the cap and took a quick pull, "Martha and Clark, wasn't it?"
"Yeah, that's my family." He took a long drink from his bottle and leaned against the railing, "I'd do anything for them."
Bruced smiled as he took another pull, "They're lucky to have a husband and dad like you."
Jonathon shook his head, "No, a good man would be able to provide for his family."
"What do you mean?"
"It's really not your problem, Bruce. Something a man has to work out on his own." He finished his beer and rubbed his chin, as an afterthought he took out the business card the banker, Mr. Brighton had given him.
Bruce moved over next to him and looked at it, "MetroBank? Were you having money trouble?"
"They turned down my loan."
"Why's that?"
"Mr. Brighton thought my farm wasn't a sound business investment. We do organic farming here, and I guess the market doesn't seem a lot of return on that kind of thing. If he could just see how hard I would work, I know I could provide a better future for all of us." He sighed yet again, then scratched the back of his neck.
Jonathon and Bruce finished their beers in silence.
Finally Jonathon crossed over to the door, "Sorry, like I said, it's not your problem. Do you want another one?"
Bruce shook his head absently, "No thanks, I'm driving." He handed Jonathon his empty bottle and then put his hands in his pockets to ward off the chill brought about by a sudden breeze.
Jonathon returned from the house with another beer and sat on the porch swing. After a second Bruce joined him, "Let me see that card again."
"Sure, it won't do me any good," he said passing the card over to him.
Bruce took out a pen and scribbled another phone number on the card and passed the card back to him, "Tell Mr. Brighton to call this number, I don't think getting a loan would be all that difficult."
Jonathon frowned, "I don't understand."
"Jonathon, did I tell you my last name?"
He shrugged, "I never thought to ask."
Bruced stood and moved over to the steps, "It's Wayne."
Suddenly, Jonathon stood, "Bruce Wayne?"
Bruced nodded, "Thanks for your hospitality, Mr. Kent. I'm sure we'll meet again sometime. I'll have your truck sent down in the morning.
"Thank - Thank you, Mr. Wayne."
"Come on now, just a minute ago it was Bruce," he said with a lopsided grin.
Jonathon and Bruce shook hands, "I mean it, thanks for everything."
"Like I keep saying, you're the nicest guy I've met all day."
Jonathon smiled, "Let's just hope the bank thinks the same thing."
Bruced smiled and began walking to his car, "I wouldn't worry about the bank -- I own it."
Jonathon blinked, this really was the Bruce Wayne, "Well, aren't you worried this is a bad investment?"
Bruce opened his driver's door and for a second just looked at the farm. Then he turned his gaze back to Jonathon, "I prefer to believe in people."
Jonathon, for the first time all day, let a genuine smile cross his face, "Me too."
The 1969 Mustang Mach One grumbled to life and slowly growled down the small road on the Kent's farm. It turned onto the paved road and quickly flew up the way it had came, after a second Jonathon could only see it's tailights. After another second, it was gone.
Martha Kent walked out onto the porch pulling on her robe and yawning loudly, "What's all that noise?" She looked at the bottles on the porch rail, "Have you been out here drinking?"
Jonathon swept her up in his arms amd pulled her close, "We're going to be alright, Martha."
"You have been drinking!"
He only laughed and smoothed down her red hair with his hands, "I think we got the loan."
She suddenly hugged him fiercly, "Jonathon that's wonderful." For a moment they stayed in each others embrace, letting their relief seep into each other. After a moment, Jonathon felt his wife tense, "Sweetheart, where's the truck?"
***End***
Next Time: "Revelations at the Hibachi Grill"