It was noon at the Vulcan embassy in San Francisco. All the glass doors of the solarium had been pushed aside, creating areas from which the guests could watch the ceremony in relative comfort. T'Beth stood closest, with her grandmother Amanda, grandfather Sarek, and Aunt Doris. Doctor McCoy positioned himself right behind her.

Inside, Vulcan attendants waited amid the polished granite blocks, their gongs and bell racks reflecting the scarlet-tinted sunlight beating down. At the center of the sand garden, a robed Vulcan woman stood beside a fire pit. Sweet, spicy incense rose from the hot coals.

Suddenly the gongs were struck. Side by side, Spock and Lauren walked over the swept sand and stopped in front of the healer. Captain Kirk entered the solarium and took his place near Spock. T'Beth became aware of McCoy's hand settling over her shoulder.

T'Mira's sharp eyes appraised the couple. "Who is this," she demanded, "that comes to stand before me?"

One at a time they answered her. "Spock, son of Sarek, son of Skon." "Lauren, daughter of Elizabeth, daughter of Phyllis."

The healer's expression remained unchanged. "What does thee ask of me?"

Spock replied, "We ask for the bonding of Vulcan marriage."

There was a meditative pause. Then extending her right hand, the healer said, "Give me your thoughts."

Spock and Lauren went to their knees in the warm sand. The silence was complete as T'Mira's fingers briefly touched Spock's face and then that of his bride. Apparently satisfied, the healer signaled an attendant who stepped forward holding a white sash embellished with Vulcan symbols. Solemnly the healer joined Spock's left hand to Lauren's right, palms pressed to palms, wrists interlinked. Using the sash, she bound their arms together.

The attendant returned to his post. A gong rang out, a single deep note that vibrated through the feet of the guests. T'Mira stretched out her arms. Her hands hovered above the heads of the pair kneeling before her. "As it was in the dawn of our days," she intoned, "as it is today, as it will be through all our tomorrows, you make your choice."

Her strong hands moved to the faces of the bride and groom, fingers once more seeking out the ancient points of mental contact. All three closed their eyes. Spock's face was impassive. Lauren's expression reflected a momentary discomfort, and then she seemed to relax. The healer remained in a deep state of concentration for a moment longer before removing her hands.

Lauren turned her head and looked into Spock's eyes. Together they stood. A brief murmur went through the assembled guests, but was stilled as an attendant came bearing a small crystal goblet and a decanter. As T'Mira poured the green liquid, Spock looked at Kirk and held out his unfettered right hand. Kirk gave him the ring and left the solarium. Carefully Spock slipped the golden band onto Lauren's finger. She smiled.

The healer held the filled goblet before the couple. "Shayo," she pronounced, "green and warm as Vulcan blood. It is the custom of our people to drink in this manner. One and together, you will share from the cup of life."

"Let it always be so," Spock and Lauren recited together.

Spock drank from the ritual cup and passed it to Lauren. When she finished, he removed the sash from around their arms and used it to wrap the drained goblet. To the surprise of the guests, he then dropped it on the sand and with one stroke crushed the delicate glass under his boot.

Bell racks shook in celebration. The gongs were struck. As the healer and attendants withdrew, guests surrounded the newly joined pair with laughter and congratulations. Lauren beamed and even Spock showed the beginnings of a pleased smile.

"Nice touch," Uhura said, "breaking that glass. I didn't know Vulcans do that, too."

"We do not," Spock replied. "It was…a human touch."

Lauren said, "He was supposed to strike a gong with a stone hammer."

"So I recall," McCoy murmured, running a finger around the collar of his dress uniform. "Whew! It's hot as Vulcan's Forge in here. Isn't there any place cooler?"

Kirk's face shone with perspiration. "I'm with you, Bones. Let's head for the reception hall."

Soon most of the guests were heading in that direction. As the crowd thinned, Sarek and Amanda approached the newlyweds.

Spock inclined his head respectfully. "Father. I present to you my wife, Lauren Fielding. Mother, I believe you already know her."

Amanda and Lauren smiled at one another.

"Yes," Amanda said. "We've spent some time together. These are definitely happier days."

"A lovely wedding," Sarek said. "A lovely bride."

"Most kind," Spock responded formally.

"We're so glad you could both be here," Lauren said warmly. "I know we didn't give you much notice."

Amanda looked at her son and new daughter-in-law with affection. "I wouldn't have missed it for the world. Spock, you've chosen well. She's beautiful."

Spock's parents moved on. Evading the other guests, Lauren ducked into a vacant room and pulled him in behind her. "Spock, " her eyes shone at him, "your father. You never told me he was so adorable."

"Adorable?" Spock repeated in a dry tone. "I have never though of him in quite that way."

"It must be where you get it from," she quipped.

"Lauren," Spock reproached her fondly, "I think Vulcan brandy does not agree with you."

"Oh, but it does. Especially the Vulcan kind." Drawing closer, she fondled the back of his neck and gazed into his warm brown eyes. "I honored your customs," she softly said, "so now you'll have to honor one of mine. Perhaps you've heard of it. It's called 'kissing the bride'."

His eyebrow climbed. Placing his hands on the curve of her back, he said, "Fair is fair. It would not do to neglect such a venerable tradition." Then bending down, he kissed his bride thoroughly.

oooo

By now all the guests had found their way to the reception. A large hall had been formed by retracting the walls between several elegantly furnished rooms. There were flowers in abundance and buffets of both human and Vulcan dishes. If anyone felt the lack of alcoholic beverages, they did not complain about it. Seldom had such an interesting mixture of people sat at table together. Conversation hummed. Though one face among the part was less than congenial, no one seemed to notice. No one, that is, but the guests of honor.

As the meal progressed, Spock became increasingly aware of dark glances directed at him by Lauren's twin brother at the far end of their table. Laurence Fielding had not once spoken to him and had only approached Lauren when Spock was not at her side. Spock knew that Reverend Fielding did not approve of the marriage, and he knew why. Some time ago, Lauren had told her brother of certain incidents that cast Spock in a bad light, and since then she had been unable to convince Laurence that Spock had not really been at fault. Even before the misunderstanding, Spock had never felt entirely comfortable around the priest, either. He did, however, respect Fielding's work among the children of Gamma Vertas IV. As a goodwill gesture he and Lauren had requested that donations be made to the priest's Salesian mission in lieu of wedding gifts. Apparently the gesture had failed.

It seemed to Spock that courtesy demanded he speak to his new brother-in-law and at least made an attempt at peace. People were starting to leave the tables. After a few minutes Fielding also got up and wandered down the hall. Spock quietly asked Lauren to stay where she was. Feeling her eyes on him, he excused himself from the table and went after the priest. At his approach, Fielding squared his shoulders and let his arms drop to the sides of his black clerical suit.

"Reverend Fielding," Spock said in greeting.

The priest's response was a curt, "Captain."

Spock hesitated at the overt look of hostility on Fielding's face. "Sir, I realize that you disapprove of our marriage, but it was kind of you make the journey here for Lauren's sake."

Fielding gave a short, derisive laugh. " 'For Laurie's sake'," he said through clenched teeth, "I have to wish you both well—but I'm not going to pretend I like you…or that I didn't try my damndest to talk her out of this…this monumental mistake."

The sheer venom of the attack took Spock by surprise. "I…am sorry you feel that way," he said sincerely.

"Sorry!" Fielding's voice rang out. "Well, Mister High-and-Mighty Starfleet hero, I'm sorry, too—but I'm just not comfortable with the idea of Laurie marrying someone who's knocked her around—someone who'll do anything to get his way."

Spock became aware that his mother and Jim Kirk were coming over and may have overheard. Stiffly he said, "Sir, I suggest we continue this conversation in private."

Red-faced with anger, Fielding snapped, "I don't care who hears this! Go ahead—deny it ever happened. Of course not, you've never hurt her—not ever—not even at Mega Morbidus. Or don't you remember anymore?"

Kirk and Amanda came to a stop, openly listening. Spock was growing tired of references to his faulty memory, and Fielding's tone made it all the more annoying. With his own share of anger he said, "I am fully aware of the incident." He did not look at his mother. He did not want to see the shock on her face. And now, drawn by the sound of argument, others were watching.

" 'Aware…of the incident'…" The priest's mood further darkened and his voice raised another notch. "That's all it is to you—an incident? I gave you sanctuary on mission property and for thanks you turned around and—"

Spock's hands were clenching into fists when Kirk stepped in. "Gentlemen," he said quietly, "let's calm down here. I was in command at Mega Morbidus. Spock was not responsible for anything that happened there."

"Says the best man," Fielding remarked with deep sarcasm, his eyes locked on Spock.

Lauren came running from the other end of the hall. "Larry!" she called out.

Fielding turned his anger on her. "Laurie, how could you marry him after what he did to you?"

Lauren's eyes flashed. "Why won't you listen? I've told you it wasn't his fault! How dare you come here and—"

Spock restrained her with a touch. "It is alright," he said, keeping a close watch on the priest. "He only means to protect you…but he is leaving now."

"Well, I don't need protecting." Lauren glared at her brother. "He has no right to talk to you that way."

The priest turned his back on her and strode out of the embassy.

Midway down the hall, a small orchestra had been tuning up. Now it began playing a Strauss waltz.

Lauren sighed and said to Spock, "By tradition the first dance is ours, but why don't I take a turn with Jim while you talk to your mother?"

Kirk looked surprised. "Spock, you dance?

The Vulcan merely nodded and said, "Yes, certainly," answering both their questions at once.

As Kirk and Lauren took off dancing, other people began to pair up and take advantage of the music. Kirk looked with concern at his partner. Lauren's eyes were troubled, her cheeks still flushed from the confrontation.

"You can tell me to mind my own business," he ventured, "but if you want me to talk to your brother..."

"You're right," she said shortly, "it's not your business." Without skipping a beat they smoothly continued down the hall. "But I'm going to explain something because I want you to know this was not all Larry's fault." With another sigh she disclosed, "It was after Spock died. I was grief-stricken, angry. Larry was being sympathetic, and I just couldn't stand it. So…so I said some pretty harsh things about Spock."

Kirk missed a step. "Spock knows about that?"

Lauren's hand tightened on his arm. "Of course. I tried smoothing things over with Larry, telling him how it really happened…but he just doesn't buy it. At this point he thinks it's some kind of Starfleet cover-up to save Spock's reputation."

It made no sense to Kirk. "But why would you marry someone who deliberately hurt you?"

Lauren blushed. "He knows that Vulcans can telepathically influence people. You see, I once told him a little story about that, too…"

Across the hall, Spock took a moment to calm himself, then clasped his hands behind his back and faced Amanda. "Mother, I am sorry you had to witness that," he began, but found that under the circumstances there was little more he could say. "It was…an unfortunate distortion of the facts."

"Yes," she said kindly, "I'm sure it was a distortion."

The awkwardness of the moment was compounded by the arrival of a small, sprightly woman. With trepidation Spock looked into the eyes of Lauren's mother, but instead of condemnation he found a good-natured concern.

"That boy!" Elizabeth Fielding declared, throwing up her hands. "This is all he's talked about since your engagement. Spock, I apologize for my son. He's a priest. He should be a peacemaker, but…well, he's always been very protective of Laurie and he has a hot temper like his departed father."

Relieved, Spock inclined his head to her. "You are a gracious woman, Mrs. Fielding. Please believe that I would never intentionally do anything to harm your daughter."

"Ah, such manners," she said, turning to Amanda. "Did you teach him that? Perhaps it's a good thing that he's an older man, although—she winked—he doesn't look it. I know he'll appreciate my Laurie. He'll treat her well."

"I hope not to disappoint you," Spock said.

Eyes twinkling with humor, Elizabeth waved her little fist at him. "If you do, you'll have more than Larry to contend with. I will personally rap you on the head with my knuckles." Then she was off, leaving Spock's composure ruffled and his mother chuckling.

"I like her style," Amanda said, watching Elizabeth flit among the guests. She continued to peer down the hall as if looking for someone. "Spock. Have you seen T'Beth?"

oooo

It had been a very warm walk from the Vulcan embassy to Starfleet Medical Center. T'Beth welcomed the coolness of the east wing as she entered and rode the lift to the third floor. She found Lelia Chan sitting up in a chair beside the window, her singed hair freshly cut in a short, attractive style.

"Look at you!" T'Beth said excitedly. "You're out of bed! And your hair—it's great!"

"Look at yourself," Lelia said in return. "T'Beth, you're gorgeous."

"You think so?" Sobering, T'Beth turned and stared at her reflection in the hospital mirror. As always, she saw too many similarities to her father, but the ribbons braided into her sleek dark hair really were rather pretty, and the dress was not bad, either.

"So…how was it?" Lelia asked impatiently. "How was the wedding of the century?"

T'Beth turned around and shrugged. "I don't know. Okay, I suppose."

"But?"

"There was this Vulcan woman who went into both their minds and somehow linked them." Even the memory made T'Beth uncomfortable. "I…I didn't like it. It was almost as if…as if they were doing something dirty…right there in front of everybody."

Lelia's eyes widened. "Is that how Vulcans do it? With their minds?"

T'Beth felt herself blushing and changed the subject. "Here," she said, handing over a small, napkin-wrapped packet. "I brought you some goodies from the buffet. I can't stay, though."

"Thanks," said Lelia, obviously disappointed that the visit was so brief. "Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Sure. I'll be back with my aunt. She'll bring me to work."

At that, T'Beth gave the girl a quick hug and went out the door. As she exited the building, the heat from the walkway hit her like a slap in the face. She hurried down the street. Leaving the reception had been a reckless idea. Someone was bound to notice that she was gone. And sure enough, as she started through the embassy gate, her eyes settled on a uniformed figure standing just off the porch in the blazing July sun. Stopping, she stared at her father with annoyance. He always seemed to find out, didn't he?

Coming slowly toward her on the walkway, he said, "I see you have decided to return."

T'Beth closed the gate, took a deep breath, and faced him. "I…went to the medical center…to visit a patient." Even when she told the truth, it sounded like a lie.

"Indeed," he said. "It would have been thoughtful if you had informed me of your plans."

"I…I figured you'd say no," she stammered.

The embassy door opened. Music drifted into the courtyard as Lauren looked out at them. Obviously relieved, she said, "You've found her."

"Yes," Spock answered. "I believe she about to tell me that she has no further plans to alarm anyone—at least for today." He prompted T'Beth with a sharp look. "Is that not so?"

Irritated, she said, "I was only gone for a few minutes."

"Ah." Spock nodded. "A few minutes only. And that, in your formula of logic, excuses you."

The sun beat down on T'Beth's skin. She was hot and thirsty and on the verge of telling him exactly what he could do with his infernal sarcasm. "Look," she snapped, "I'm back, alright? Do you have to know where I am every minute? I told you, I just went to the hospital. If you don't believe me, check it out. I passed through security."

Lauren backed into the embassy and shut the door. Somehow, with her gone, T'Beth did not feel quite so bold. Her stomach tightened as her father stepped up to her. Heart hammering, she stared at the gleaming IDIC pendant where it rested against his uniform.

"Look at me," he ordered.

Lifting her chin, she looked. His eyes were every bit as forbidding as she had expected. They made her feel as if she was six years old instead of sixteen, and it was not a feeling she liked.

"T'Beth," he said predictably, "you know what is expected of you—and the reasons for it. Yet you continue this immature practice of making excuses for misbehavior."

The blood rushed to her face. Instinctively her mind worked at finding still another excuse. "It's…it's just that—"

"No," Father said firmly. "I do not want to hear it. Go inside."

For once she gladly obeyed him. Inwardly stinging, she went to the refreshment table and consoled herself with a cold drink. In her absence the wedding cake had been cut. She envied the humans who could eat all they wanted without getting drunk off the sugar. It seemed like everything she did always had rules attached. Nothing was ever simple or easy.

Across the hall, Kirk spotted T'Beth standing near the refreshments and was struck by how dejected she looked. He had been avoiding her all afternoon. It had been difficult to hide the depth of his concern when she turned up missing. She was having such a hard time adjusting to her father's marriage, and Kirk hadn't been offering much in the way of help. He hadn't been able to, not with the way he felt every time he set eyes on her. He thought about it for a long time before he quietly came up behind her.

"Well," he said lightly, "I see you made it back in one piece."

At the sound of his voice she whirled and her eyes lighted up in a way that sent a thrill straight through him. Inwardly cursing, he struggled to control his expression. Neutral and pleasant, never mind those traitorous fingers of electricity tearing away at his insides.

"Yeah," she said a bit breathlessly. "Father was…not too pleased. It's hard getting used to having him around, always telling me what to do. But I guess I'll have to learn."

"Well, cheer up," Kirk tried to joke, "you won't have to put up with him much longer."

She frowned. "Oh. I guess he hasn't told you yet."

"Told me? Told me what?"

"Father's leaving the Enterprise to take a ground assignment."

Kirk's jaw dropped. "He…said that?"

She nodded.

Turning, he looked out over the guests. He could not find Spock anywhere. Then, in a flash of maroon and cream lace, he saw the Vulcan waltzing with his bride, waltzing quite nicely by the look of it.

T'Beth touched him on the sleeve. "Jim. Can you show me how to dance?"

Kirk's thoughts—and eyes—snapped back to Spock's daughter. Teaching her how to dance—now, wouldn't that be something. Pulling back from the temptation, he said, "It looks like your father's the one to ask. Better yet—" He spied a portly figure on a tour of the buffet table, and called out, "Scotty!"

The engineer looked up and smiled. "Aye, Captain."

"No!" T'Beth hissed into Kirk's ear. "Forget it."

There was no need to introduce the two. They had shared a memorable misadventure in the past. T'Beth pinched Kirk's forearm right through his uniform, but he pretended not to feel it. Leaving her in Scott's capable hands, he went looking for the Man of the Hour. Spock's bride had disappeared. The Vulcan stood alone, watching the unlikely sight of Mister Scott leading T'Beth in a dance step.

"Looks like it runs in the family," Kirk said, coming up beside him. He rubbed his smarting arm. "Spock, I'm impressed. Why, in all the years we've served together, I had no idea you were an accomplished dancer."

"My father considered it a useful diplomatic skill," Spock said almost apologetically, "and he intended for me to be an ambassador."

As if cued by their son's words, Sarek and Amanda came waltzing into sight. Spock's mother seemed to be enjoying herself immensely, but it was clear that—as with every area of his life—the Vulcan ambassador took dancing very seriously."

"I see your father has kept up his own diplomatic skills," Kirk wryly observed. "But Spock, what's this T'Beth told me? I'm going to lose my first officer?"

Spock swung around and looked at him, then stared across the hall at his daughter. Obviously distracted, he said, "I…I have made no definite plans at this time, Captain."

"She seems to think otherwise," Kirk persisted. Before he could say more, Spock's parents broke out of the waltz and started toward their son. "Looks like a meeting of the dance committee," Kirk said low. "If you'll excuse me, we'll continue this discussion later."

Grateful for the interruption, Spock met his parents.

"Your mother is tired," Sarek said. "We are going up to our room to rest."

Spock regarded his mother with concern. Being human, she was much frailer than Vulcan women her age.

Amanda gave him a reassuring smile. "I see that look. Don't worry, Spock, it's only a little flight lag."

"Business detained me on Vulcan until the last moment," Sarek said. "We only arrived this morning, but we will remain here through the month of July."

"Then I will see you again." Spock lowered his eyes discreetly as he thought, after the ToiChana—the interval of bonding.

"I look forward to it," Amanda said. "Spock, I want you to know how pleased, how proud I am that you've taken such a wonderful wife."

"I have spent some time speaking with her," Sarek said, "and I must say that I, too, am favorably impressed by Doctor Fielding." He hesitated before adding, "I believe she would serve well as the wife of an ambassador."

Before Spock could react, his mother said, "Is it true? Spock, are you really resigning from Starfleet?"

Spock was momentarily taken aback. "I presume that is what T'Beth told you."

"No," Amanda said. "It was that charming Starfleet commander with the Russian accent."

"Chekov," Sarek pronounced.

Spock's eyebrow climbed. "Fascinating. It is, however, nothing more than a rumor."

"I see," Sarek said without expression.

Amanda gave her husband a sad, fond smile. "Your father was hoping you'd consider the Vulcan diplomatic corps. He never gives up."

Spock took leave of his parents and went striding up the hall, looking for T'Beth.

Lauren saw him pass by and sensing a problem, tried to intercept him, which was not easy in dress shoes. Struggling to keep pace, she said, "Spock, what is it?"

Barely slowing, he replied, "Our daughter has been spreading some rather interesting tales."

"In trouble…again?" Lauren looked at him, or rather, at his back in disbelief. "Well," she said to herself, "what did our daughter do this time?"

Spock passed an arrangement of flowers and found T'Beth seated beside Aunt Doris on an upholstered bench. He came to an abrupt halt. "T'Beth," he beckoned in a stern tone.

She gazed up at him warily. "Yes?"

"How many people have you told that I am resigning from Starfleet?"

There was sharp intake of breath from Lauren, who had caught up. T'Beth took a moment to think before shaking her head. "Nobody."

"Nobody?"

"Not that you were resigning. But I…I did tell Aunt Doris and Jim and a couple of others that you're leaving the Enterprise."

Spock felt such a surge of exasperation that he was tempted to shout at her, but Vulcan discipline held him back.

"T'Beth," Lauren said gently, "where did you get such an idea?"

"From him." She nodded at her father. "Last night he said…" The word choked into silence.

Lauren drew Spock aside and spoke to him in a stage whisper. "What did you tell her?"

He considered. "We were discussing the prolonged family separations that are part of starship duty. I told her the situation was not acceptable and I would see what could be done. Nothing more."

Lauren searched his face. "Well…what is there to do other than take a ground assignment?"

"I have not had enough time," he said, "to give it proper consideration."

"Well, apparently T'Beth has," Lauren pointed out.

Spock sighed. Taking a moment to collect himself, he went back to his teary-eyed daughter. He never knew what to think of her emotional displays. In some instances she was probably sincere, but over the years she had also used tears to elicit sympathy and escape punishment. Keeping his tone neutral, he said, "I should have advised you that our conversation was private. It is a family matter—one that will take time to consider and arrange, should I decide to leave the Enterprise. It may be, however, that there is some other solution."

Her face set in the angry, distrustful expression he knew too well. "Some other solution? Then you're still going away on the tenth?"

"Yes," he replied.

Doris gave T'Beth's fist a squeeze. "Be patient, dear. Spock's right. These things take time, he can't just jump ship."

T'Beth's eyes flamed at him. "You're trying to back out of it—aren't you? Well, why not? Go ahead! I never really wanted you around, anyway."

"T'Beth!" admonished Doris. "That's no way to talk to your father."

T'Beth jumped up from the bench. "What difference does it make? He doesn't care about me. He never has!" At that she stalked away, leaving a troubled silence.

"Spock, I'm so sorry…" Doris said.

Lauren watched the angry girl duck out of sight. Meeting Spock's eyes, she read the pain that perhaps only she could see, and she made a decision. "I want to talk to her."

He nodded.

Lauren found T'Beth off in a corner by herself, slumped in a brocade chair. At the sight of Lauren she turned her face away, but not soon enough to hide the faint streak of a tear track. Lauren sat in a chair beside her.

"Leave me alone," T'Beth warned in a low voice.

"No," Lauren told her, "not after what you said back there. Not until you explain something to me. T'Beth—I want to know—why don't you trust your father?"

She made a sound of disgust. "Go ask him."

"I'm asking you."

"Why? Don't you believe what he says, either?"

Lauren was trying hard to be patient. "T'Beth," she said as gently as she could, "are you telling me that he's lied to you?"

T'Beth wiped her face with the back of her hand, then looked at Lauren through damp lashes. "His whole life is a lie. Haven't you figured that out yet?"

The words chilled Lauren. "What are you talking about?"

T'Beth made no reply.

"I don't believe you know what you're talking about," Lauren told her bluntly. "It's one thing to express yourself, but it's an entirely different matter to deliberately try and hurt someone. Oh, I've seen how you act. You ignore every good thing your father does for you and blame him for every bad thing that's ever happened in your life. That, my dear, is living a lie."

T'Beth's eyes narrowed with fresh anger. She stood. "You're just like him. Everything's my fault, always my fault. Well, I don't care—I'm leaving. I'm going to ask Aunt Doris to take me home."

"Yes," Lauren said. "That's a very good idea."

After the girl left, Lauren leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. She recalled what Spock had told her at Yosemite. He was right. T'Beth could be vicious. It hurt her to see T'Beth rip into her father. She knew what damage the girl could inflict on the supposedly unfeeling Vulcan. She had lost patience with T'Beth, with Larry, with anyone else who was too blind or self-absorbed to see the overwhelming goodness in her husband.

Janice Rand came over and plopped into the seat T'Beth had vacated. "Storm's brewing, I see. What's the matter—isn't T'Beth succumbing to your motherly charms?"

Rousing herself, Lauren pressed her fingertips to her temples. "Life's a regular fairy tale, Jan. And now I'm officially the wicked stepmother."

"What's that make her? Cinderella?"

Lauren had to smile.

"That's better. Look, Laurie, why don't you grab that husband of yours and go to the beach house? I'll finish up here."

Lauren gazed at her friend with appreciation. "Jan, I don't know how I could have managed all the wedding plans without your help. Have I said thank-you?"

"Only about a dozen times, but you can keep on thanking me. And then you can thank me for pestering you into going back to Spock when you were afraid he didn't even remember you anymore. I told you he was only holding back, same as you. Didn't I?"

"You make it sound so simple, but it's been a long, bumpy road…"

"Well, it'll smooth out now, just wait and see."

Suddenly the orchestra fell silent. Turning in her chair, Lauren looked down the hall and saw Doctor McCoy whispering in the conductor's ear. At the first notes of the Tennessee Waltz, he walked straight toward her, wearing his most charming southern smile.

"Madame bride," he drawled, bowing from the waist with a flourish, "would ya do me the honor…?"

Lauren's heart warmed. Setting aside her worries, she took McCoy's proffered hand and danced off. McCoy was quick on his feet, graceful, and for a time they moved to the music without speaking. Then McCoy said, "Well, Mrs. Spock—no, that doesn't sound right. What the blazes am I supposed to call you, anyhow?"

"You know very well that the family name is S'chn T'gai," she said, stumbling like all humans over the difficult Vulcan pronunciation. "I'll stick with Fielding most of the time."

"Doesn't that make Spock 'Mister Fielding'?" he teased. Not waiting for a reply, he said, "Okay, Mrs. Fielding. Tell me now—the Vulcan truth. Are you happy?"

Despite all the ups and downs of the day, she answered without hesitation. "Happier than I can ever remember."

"It shows. You look absolutely radiant. Why, if I were Spock, I wouldn't waste one more second hangin' around this old place…"

"Doctor," she chided.

"I mean it," he said firmly. "Spock's one helluva lucky Vulcan, and I hope he realizes it. But I want you to know, Laurie, if ever you need help—for whatever reason—I'm here."

As the dance came to an end, Lauren gave her boss a fond smile and held him close. "Thank you. I'll remember that."

oooo

It was sundown when Spock and Lauren arrived at the beach house, where they would remain in the seclusion of ToiChana for the coming week. The day was losing its warmth. A crimson glow filled the horizon, staining the restless ocean as far as the eyes could see. For a time they stood together on the old porch, silently gazing out over the water.

"Well," Lauren said at last, "I think we did alright for two people who aren't very fond of parties."

"It was an event to remember," Spock commented dryly.

Lauren frowned and shook her head. "Larry. I could have strangled him."

"I am glad you restrained yourself," Spock said. "The current prison uniform would not go at all well with your coloring."

Turning, she met his eyes with an intensity that stirred his blood. "We've been good for one another," she said, "haven't we? When I think back on how it used to be…"

Remembering, Spock nodded. "To me it sometimes seems that it was a different lifetime."

"For you it was."

"Yes…in a strictly physical sense," he agreed, "but sometimes even mentally it seems as if—" He stopped and searched his mind for areas of uncertain memory. "At times there is a sense of displacement…as if I am peering into someone else's past."

"Doctor McCoy's?" Lauren smiled, for she knew of the lingering resonance in both men, left by the brief sharing of Spock's katra. "From now on, we'll make our own memories."

A salt breeze carried the pleasing scent and sound of the ocean waves hitting the shore. Bending, Spock touched his lips to Lauren's forehead and was struck by the realization that this woman now truly belonged to him. "My wife," he said, very much liking the sound of it.

Her eyes issued a warm invitation and he ushered her into the house.