Ray and I had a casual 'instructor/student' relationship that I not only enjoyed, I thrived on. He began by teaching me Tai Chi. Little by little. Day by day. My body, always fair in shape, took on things that made it thrive and my mind opened to a whole new world of possibilities.

"Just let your feeling guide you," he said once, while I balanced on a 2 inch wide strip of wood, my eyes closed. "But only let feelings lead when you feel. Your mind can be your most powerful tool. Think and you will always win."

What the hell am I supposed to think? Maybe it was just too much in one day. The letter, the feeling of being watched, the paper on the windshield… I felt a little more secure once I passed through the electronic gate entrance to the ranch and then watched it securely close behind me, knowing all was being recorded on closed circuit monitors for me to review later. The gate and various locations around the property perimeter had motion sensors that recorded 30 second bursts with sustained motion, like driving or walking.

It took short minutes to quickly unload bags into the back mudroom and then secure the Tahoe back in the barn. I engaged the electronic locks in the barn for the first time in a long time. It had several methods of entry – a device somewhat like a garage door opener that could be activated remotely, a keypad, and a non electronic override. That was just for a barn. One could only imagine the fortress like security of the house.

I got inside the back 'mudroom' adjoining the kitchen and quickly armed the alarm. Feeling somewhat safe again, I could go about the mundane task of putting away groceries while allowing my mind to work over the days events. As I carried the first batch to put away, I also activated the built in touch screen in the kitchen and hit the 'Commands' followed by 'Voice'. No where in the house were the occupants, right now being me, any more than 2 feet away from cached weapons of any type. I checked my kitchen drawer, which was a false drawer. It didn't open if a person were to pull the handle. Only by pushing in on the right corner was the spring loaded mechanism activated an the false drawer popped open, revealing no silverware or kitchen utensils, but a fully loaded Ruger LCP semi auto 380. Small at only 2 and ¾ inches and weighing not even 10 ounces, but it was certainly efficient. I made sure it was ready to go.

"System monitor", I commanded, while stacking frozen foods. "Review."

The 10 inch flat screen monitor, which easily doubled as the kitchen TV, had been set up long ago by the genius of Benjamin who had technology then that has just recently become mainstream. The monitor re played clips of activity during the day while I had been gone, as it had armed as soon as I left the property. A rabbit and some deer grazing, but no signs of vehicles or people. Good.

"Delete." I put away canned goods. Blossom had come to see if I brought treats and Jones was now perched on a counter chair. "System monitor… set." This armed the perimeter and gate recording devices. "Alarm at will. Remote." This command would cause the alarm sound to transmit to my remote if any motion was detected (annoying at times due to the wildlife so I rarely used it, but after today, it was my security blanket.)

I fed the kitties.

"System, House." This basically put all the electronic devices at my command. These too could all be operated mechanically by hand without electricity. Benjamin, and Ray as well, never wanted to rely on power, electronics, or computers too much. Very smart men.

"Shield." I heard the muffled rattle as the window guards were lowered into place.

Now, to work. And think.

I carried the mail back to the den. I opened the 'office'.

After putting the DVD into the player, I went into the office. I pulled the file Stalling, Anna Marie /Scott. The DVD was a very nice tribute to Lt. Col Scott Stalling. His sister Anna Marie, was a plain but nice looking woman, perhaps mid 60s, with soft looking dark hair with just a little gray. She was perhaps a bit thin, or maybe just appeared that way because she was quite tall, probably 5'9".

I watched Scott Stallings's life and accomplishments appear in pictures and video on the flat screen and read Ray's notes.

Anna Marie had been a referral from Marcus Clay. Ray always worked most off referral and he always kept track of how his clients interwove. Marcus had been Anna Marie's high school sweetheart and they'd stayed in touch. When Anna was 30, her brother Scott 20, Scott had gone on backpacking trip and never returned. Anna suspected it had something to do with his recent new "friends" who had supposed connections to a large marijuana operation. Ray had tracked and infiltrated the pot growers, posing as a migrant farm worker and was hired as temp help to pick the vast fields, just beyond the Mexican boarder. There he found Scott, living as a para military guard to the fields doing things he wasn't sure he wanted to, but embedded to deeply to find a way out. Ray helped Scott, after some convincing, and along the way managed to take down a good percent of the pot operation.

Ray had noted in his scrawl, dated a year after his favor to Anna Marie, that Scott had joined the Army and was in basic at the Presidio in Monterey.

As the DVD ended and silence fell on the room I couldn't help but just stare the handwriting. Ray's bold letters, mostly caps, a mix of cursive and print.

Dammit Ray. I need you.

You can't hide forever. Those words on that note…

You look like you did back then
You kiss me like you did back when
You and I first fell in love
Time has been good to you
I said I always knew it would
You're more lovely every day.

Just like a mighty river runs to the sea
My love for you keeps growing
It was meant to be
It will never go away
Its deeper and stronger every day
Like a river to the sea
You know you can count on me.
These hands on the clock should know
That time just can't pass this slow
When I'm away
But I've got my job to do
Then I'll hurry home to you
I'm waiting for the day.

Just like a mighty river runs to the sea
My love for you keeps growing
It was meant to be
It will never go away
Its deeper and stronger every day
Like a river to the sea
You know you can count on me. ****

(River to the Sea, Steve Wariner singer/songwriter)

No pills tonight. I would sleep fitfully, in between dreams and waking with every night time noise and occasional alarm beep. The reason for the dreams at least may have been looking into the closet for a sweater and laying eyes upon the remaining piece of Ray's wardrobe: the black leather jacket that was a almost an extension of the man. Even after all this time, the jacket still smelled faintly of leather and cologne; familiar to my senses as a baking cake. But this scent drew mostly an ache deep in my chest. I touched it, feeling the cool soft leather under my finger tips. Closed my eyes.

It wasn't long enough. But it was long enough to last forever.

"Why do you do that?" Ray asked.

We were sitting in the coffee shop we frequented enough to be familiar in the early morning after a long workout. Tai Chi, a mile run, my early training in self defense.

"What?" I asked, sipping the rich dark coffee brew.

"When you run, you think too much."

"huh?" I almost laughed. But he was serious.

"You need to concentrate on 'now', concentrate on your breathing, your body, every feeling in the moment. Stop dwelling on what was and what might be. Clear your mind. Look. Listen. Feel."

I thought about his words, true of course. But how could he know what was in my mind as we pounded down the sand, footfalls slightly muffled, beating a path along the ocean way?

"I just know," he said, a slight smile, taking a sip of his own coffee.

"I hate it when you do that," I said then, knowing he knew that too. Ray had been studying people for more time and had a practice for reading their faces, their eyes, and at times it appeared, their thoughts. Some, maybe like me, were more vulnerable, innocent, to his abilities. Not enough experience hiding from the world, or rather dealing with it and pretending not to care, or jaded over, not caring at all.

"Try. You'll see."

What was he telling me then, so many years ago, and now as if it were yesterday in my dreams?

Ray disappeared for stretches of time, leaving me a note usually at his place to which I had a key. The note always contained things he expected me to accomplish while he was away. He was of course doing what he did: helping people. At times it took a week, other times a month. Those times, before I knew what he did, I didn't understand and tended to withdraw. I accomplished the goals set to me, if it was as small as "take out my garbage" or "learn Portuguese." (That one took 6 weeks, but I was well on my way to being done when he returned 3 weeks later; thanks to Ray and his 'chores', I speak 6 languages besides English- Portuguese, Spanish, Italian, Russian, German and French, along with a bit of Vietnamese. ) He also had mego places I never had a reason to go such as "drive to San Francisco, go to China Town, a shop called Mai Wa," and left me a list of foreign things to acquire once I got there. He always left money, and any other things I might need to get his job done. He knew I didn't quite understand, but it was just another tool in his arsenal of tools he used to teach me things, things I didn't even know I was supposed to learn.

After almost 11 months of faithfully 'obeying', I had a momentary irritation when it seemed I was getting nothing and put out a lot of effort and he was getting the benefits. I commented on this one evening after a glass of wine too many. Ray smiled in that irritatingly arrogant smile that only made me madder.

"You think I'm taking advantage of your good nature?" he asked.

"I don't know what to think! What am I accomplishing? I've got one semester left in school and I spend half the time running your errands, learning some useless languages, and getting nothing out of it!"

"Fez você aprender paciência?"

Did I learn patience? He asked me in Portuguese.

"Eu aprendi que você pode ser um bastardo," I retorted quickly.

Ray laughed. "And a year ago, did you think you would think that you could be so outspoken as to call any man a bastard, or that you would do it in one of the most beautiful languages in the world?"

He was right. As usual. I would have been way to timid to say that to anyone's face. In as much, never having interacted much with different people in different places, I now found myself more at ease in strange situations and thinking on my feet how to navigate them.

I had also learned to defend myself, with some weapons by then, as well as my now graceful interpretation of martial arts fighting. This built my confidence level up so that I found myself meeting people's eyes passing in the street, where before I always avoided others' gaze.

"Sie sind bereit."

German now (it was what I was currently studying.)

"Ready? What am I ready for?"

"To go with me."your document here...