CHAPTER 4: TRUST

Once they were back in their room, Didi sat down on her bed, while Cam asked Gor-lak if he'd gotten the amenities for use in the bathroom that they'd asked for earlier.

"I have . . . procured the items you requested, but I have not yet had the opportunity to bring them to you. I have been busy with . . . other things."

"Such as?"

"Convincing the Events Committee to allow you to have three days in this room, as I told you I would endeavor to do. They were not pleased, but they did acquiesce."

"I'm glad. And now, since you're being so civil to Miss Steadman and me, I was wondering—"

"What is it now, Colonel Mitchell?" Gor-lak asked with exasperation.

"Could you maybe make a bathroom for the rest of SG-1? . . . and get them some of the same stuff you're getting for us?"

"Why should I do that?"

"What? You guys don't shower on a regular basis? Come on! They already stink to high heaven and look like something the cat dragged in . . . Scratch that. A cat is an Earth animal you have no way of knowing anything about. . .."

"I have probably seen them in your memory archives. However, the allusion to something one of those creatures 'dragged in' is incomprehensible. But if you are trying to say that without the use of the items you have requested, they will smell worse than they do now, and that their appearance will continue to deteriorate—"

"That's it exactly!" Cam said.

"I have noticed that you and your comrades are looking a bit . . . ragged, shall we say?"

Cam shrugged. "Like I said, you could give them a bathroom, too. Let them bathe or shower, wash their hair, brush their teeth, shave . . . It's all a part of what it means to be a civilized human being."

"Your team has had much worse accommodations than those I have provided, Colonel," the elder said testily.

"Yes, but . . . we were actual prisoners in those circumstances. We were tortured and questioned and questioned and tortured . . . and just waiting to be executed. We weren't put on display for the entire population to see. We were not daily entertainment for the masses . . . if you get my meaning. Or do your people enjoy seeing (and smelling) filthy, bedraggled contestants in the arena?"

"We have never had human contestants before," stated Gor-lak. "We were not aware that your physical requirements were so . . . demanding."

"From what Jackson was telling us, there used to be humans here, long ago, when your ancestors first settled here after the Great Dearth." Cam was making an assumption when he referred to the ancient event by that title, but it was a logical postulation.

Gor-lak bowed his head in acknowledgement of the statement, verifying Cam's conjecture. "This is true, and there are still human villages in the vicinity," he said. "However, once our ancestors—those who developed the Power and those who later became the warrior caste—destroyed the Goa'uld system lord who ruled here, they allowed the humans to live in peace. We have had no interaction with them as a species since that time. We have no idea what changes may have taken place among them over the centuries. Whether they, too, are in need of such necessaries as you and your colleagues have requested, we do not know."

"You're not in the least bit afraid that they might have developed some technology that could be a threat to you?"

"Why should we be? With our Power and the fighting skills of our warriors, what have we to fear from any humans, no matter how advanced their technology might be?"

Cam found the arrogance of the Chak-tuk—particularly in regard to their view of humans—insulting, to say the least. He bit back the retort he was dying to make, however, and said, "Still, there are reasons you found beds, bathrooms, and assorted items of clothing and toiletries in our memories, Gor-lak. They're everyday things to us; they're what we're used to. We can go without them if we absolutely have to, but . . . we're not usually happy about it when we do. Our culture is very different from yours. I should think you'd've come to realize that by now."

"Indeed I have," Gor-lak groused. "It is far too different; I am beginning to have . . . misgivings." He turned on his heel abruptly and left the room.

"Uh-oh," said Cam, standing with his hands clasped behind his back. "I think I might've pushed him too far this time."

"At least he didn't point his rod at you and try to fry you with it," Didi commented.

"There is that," Cam agreed, bringing his arms around to the front of his body and folding them.

"I have a feeling we're all gonna get everything we want," said Didi. "We are his star attractions, after all, and if there's one thing talent agents learn early on, it's that you have to—"

"—keep your stars happy," Cam finished for her, nodding. "I hope you're right."

"I hope so, too." She sighed, got off the bed and stretched. "It's getting late and I'm tired. This has got to've been one of the longest days of my life. I'd like to take a bath as soon as possible and go to bed and get some sleep."

"In the meantime, now that we're alone again, let's have another question-and-answer session. I have more invested in getting to know you better than the rest of the team does."

"So, what do you want to know? I told you: my life isn't all that interesting."

"Maybe your life, as such, isn't very interesting . . . but you—as a person—definitely are."

"Me? Yeah, right! As if . . .."

Cam shook his head and gave her a no-nonsense look. "You obviously have self-esteem issues, Didi. I don't know how much of that is tied to your ex's rejection of you, but there's something you need to think about: women—especially nowadays—have a lot more to offer than just being baby machines. The fact that you can't have children doesn't make you any less valuable or worthwhile a person than a woman who can. Your ex was a fool if he didn't see that."

"Then I guess he was a fool," she said quietly.

"Among other things." Cam paused and looked at her questioningly. "How old are you?"

"Thirty-three. I'll be thirty-four on Friday."

"Still not too late to start a family—" Cam stated, relaxing his arms and pacing the floor a little, after which he turned around to face Didi and continued, "—if we can persuade Gorlie to fix whatever's wrong with you that keeps you from getting pregnant. With the Power he's got, five'll get you ten he can do it."

"But what's the point? I'm not married anymore. And I don't see much hope of getting to the altar again before I am too old to have kids."

"Don't lose hope, Didi. You never know what tomorrow will bring."

"I know what Friday will bring: a fight to the death in the arena. I'm trying not to dwell on it—not for my sake, but for yours. But I just can't stop thinking about it." Her eyes were filled with anxiety.

Cam stood with his balled fists resting on his hips and said, "I'm not gonna die in the arena, Didi, I promise you that. If I were to die . . . well, let's just say that what they might do to you could be a fate worse than death, and I'm not about to let anything like that happen." He walked back to where she was standing, lifted her chin with his right hand and gazed into her angst-filled eyes. "Not in a million years." At that moment, the door opened and Gor-lak strode in. Didi quickly pulled her chin out of Cam's hand and sat back down on her bed.

"Can't you knock once in a while?" Cam growled at the elder.

"What were you about to do to Miss Steadman?"

"Nothing. I was just trying to reassure her," Cam answered. "It's something we human males do when the females we care about are worried or frightened."

"Of what is she worried or frightened?"

"She's afraid I'll get killed or maimed in the arena."

"And you were trying to reassure her that such will not be the case," the Chak-tuk inferred. "Do you actually believe you have a chance of surviving your event?"

"Yeah, of course I do. Is there any reason why I shouldn't?"

"He obviously has something up his sleeve, Cam," Didi put in. "He's much too smug."

Cam looked at her and smiled engagingly. "You've got great observational skills, Didi," he told her. Then he turned his attention back to Gor-lak. "Many human women claim to have something they call 'feminine intuition.' Personally, I think it comes from being observant and figuring things out on a subconscious level. So far this evening, Didi's proven herself to be very observant."

"You humans are a most perplexing species," said Gor-lak.

"Well, you know, you could always just send us home and uncomplicate your life. . .."

Gor-lak shook his head. "That is not possible, Colonel. One day soon I will explain to you why. In the meantime, I have in this sack the items you requested." He handed the bag to Cam and added, "I have already provided your colleagues with pillows, blankets . . . and cots." Seeing the look of surprised delight on Cam's face, he continued, "Yes, I gave them something other than the floor mats to sleep on. I do hope they appreciate the effort."

"I'm sure they do. They'll probably sleep a lot better tonight than they have since we got here."

"I will build them a bathroom tomorrow morning. It will require much in the way of materials and effort, as well as a great deal of Power. I hope you appreciate the sacrifice I'll be making for them."

"I certainly do," said Cam, "and I'm sure they will, as well."

"They had better," Gor-lak grumbled. Then he turned and left the duo alone once more.

Cam set the bag on the floor and sat down beside Didi. "So, what do you think he's hiding? What's he got up his sleeve?"

"I don't know. But if the others all fought Chak-tuk warriors . . . maybe you won't. Maybe your opponent will be something much more dangerous."

"That's a possibility. He seems pretty sure I won't win. He didn't come right out and say it, but his attitude was clear enough."

"I agree; which is why I said he had something up his sleeve—and it wasn't just his words that told me that. Even though I'm new here, I can already read their body language. That's one of the things I learned to do back in college—read body language. Their mouths are so different . . . smugness is hard to perceive from facial expression alone. His entire demeanor gave him away."

"So, since you believe that I'm probably going to go up against something really nasty, are you even more frightened than you were before?"

She looked into his eyes. "You could say that. I hate to be the reason that your life is in danger."

"You're not the reason, Didi," Cam assured her. "The Chak-tuk and their stupid games are the reason. You're just . . . added incentive for me to win. I'd be forced to enter the arena whether I chose to fight or not; chances are I'd be cut to ribbons where I stood if I didn't fight. It has nothing to do with you. I'll fight, and I'll win—it's as simple as that. All you have to do is believe in me."

"I do believe you'll do your best, but . . . whether that will be enough . . . I'm just not sure. You may have all the self-confidence in the world, but I don't know you well enough yet to jump on that particular bandwagon. So, I'm a basket case right now. I feel like a giant ball of insecurity and angst, all wrapped up in a fragile package that just happens to look like a human female."

"I wish there was something more I could do to reassure you. I've said everything I can think of, but it really hasn't helped much, has it?"

She shook her head. "No, it hasn't. I wish it had. I wish with all my heart that I could believe we'll both be okay, but I've never seen the battles. And even if I had, we don't know what's in store for you. To me, it's just a great big question mark with a very black cloud behind it."

"Would a hug every now and then help?"

Didi smiled softly at him. "It might—as long as all it is is a hug."

Cam smiled back at her. "It will be . . . unless and until you decide you want it otherwise. . . Now, why don't you go take a good, long soak in the tub? Maybe it'll help you relax a little."

Didi nodded. "Okay. Will you be all right out here by yourself?"

"Hey, I spent months in a hospital bed after I crashed my 302 in Antarctica. I was alone most of the time . . . and I couldn't move. At the moment, though, I wish I had a Gameboy or a ball and glove."

"Personally, I like to play Chuzzle on my cellphone," Didi said.

"Chuzzle?"

"It's a game full of colorful little fuzzy critters with big eyes. It's sort of like Bejeweled, but . . . never mind. I'm gonna go take my bath." She picked up the sack Cam had set on the floor and peeked inside. "Oh wow! Everything you asked for is in here! Yippee!" She pulled her share of the precious items from the bag, laid them on her bed, and handed the bag to Cam so that he could remove his possessions from it. She then took her items to the bathroom, set them on the counter by the sink, removed her pajamas and underwear from the second drawer, and took them to the bathroom, as well.

"I've decided," Cam called to her. "I am gonna be lonely out here without you."

Didi paused in the bathroom doorway and smiled. "I'll try not to dawdle."

"Aw, what the hey? I told you to take a good long soak. . .."

"I'll soak only as long as I need to." She paused. "Cam . . ."

"Yeah, Didi?"

"How old are you?"

Cam smiled and answered impishly, "No more than a handful of years older than you are."

Didi laughed. "I kinda figured you were about thirty-eight or thirty-nine—ballpark estimate."

"Too old?"

"No. Just right."

"I'm glad you approve. Now . . . go get in the tub."

"Yes, sir!" Didi snapped to something resembling attention and gave him a semi-salute; then she entered the bathroom and closed the door.

While she soaked in the tub, Didi's mind went over everything she'd learned since she'd awakened earlier in the day. Goa'uld; Ori; replicators; Tok'ra; Jaffa; Chak-tuk . . . the universe was full of unusual people and creatures that, until now, she'd never even known existed. They were a part of the daily life of SG-1 and their fellows in Cheyenne Mountain. It was mind boggling. Yet they all seemed so . . . calm—even blasé—about it. Would she ever feel that way? Would dealing with aliens become a regular thing for her at some point, too? It certainly would if she were forced to remain here.

If she ever got back to Earth, though, she had no doubt the Powers That Be would make her sign a non-disclosure agreement. She might not ever be able to forget what she was experiencing here, but she could certainly try to put it behind her—all except these three days she'd be spending alone with Cam.

Even if the faces of the other members of SG-1 slowly faded from memory, for as long as she lived she would never forget Cameron Mitchell. From the moment he had first looked into her eyes, Didi knew that the beautiful blue of his eyes and the tenderness they expressed would be etched in her mind forever. With that thought uppermost in her mind, she sat up and began to wash.

Meanwhile, Cam, too, was mulling things over in his mind. He couldn't help wondering how this whole scenario had come to pass. Of all the women on Earth that the Chak-tuk could've chosen to put in the arena with him, why Didi?

They were both from Kansas—and the same general area. So, why did they have to travel to an alien world, light years from home, just to meet each other? Was it Fate? Was it Karma? Was it . . . God?

He stood close to his bed, and, for the first time in several months, Cameron Mitchell looked upward and talked (quietly) to whoever might be listening. "God, if You're up there, and if this is Your doing, thanks. She's great. I promise I'll protect her and take good care of her."

Was it his imagination? —or did he just hear a voice inside his head say "See that you do. You're all she has"?If he really did hear it, then . . . what did it mean? Didi has a loving family back in Kansas and a cousin in Colorado Springs who wants her to come and work for him, Cam thought. So how could I—Cameron Mitchell—be all that she has? It was puzzling. Cam didn't know what to make of it.

He flopped onto his bed and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. He'd been so busy his entire adult life, advancing his career as a fighter pilot—and now as the leader of SG-1—that he hadn't had time to really search for that someone special he'd always felt was out there somewhere. He wanted what his parents had—all of it.

The more he got to know Didi, the more he came to believe that she really was the one he'd spent a lifetime looking for. But, depending on what Gor-lak planned to do with her following their event in the arena, he might not have a lot of time to convince her of that. They had maybe two and a half days left, depending on what time their event was scheduled to take place on Friday. Could he win Didi's heart in so short a time? He only knew he had to give it his best shot.

Having made that determination—and with little else of importance to contemplate—Cam started to become bored. If he'd had a basketball, he would've been bouncing it off the walls—or the ceiling, which didn't even have any tiles with holes in them he could count. The walls and the ceiling of the room were completely seamless—except for the single air vent, located high in the wall near the door, and the utilitarian light fixture in the center of the ceiling.

The Chak-tuk had absolutely no imagination! If humans had the kind of Power the Chak-tuk elders had, they'd find ways to use it, all right! Which is probably why we don't have it. God has more sense than that, Cam thought.

What was with the Chak-tuk, anyway? With all of the technology they had developed—and the Power to do just about anything—why did they still derive so much pleasure from the whole Roman Coliseum scenario? Why hadn't they advanced beyond that archaic mindset? But then, was Earth all that different? The Roman Coliseum had been replaced by "reality TV", but it was the same general principle, wasn't it?

The bathroom door opened at that moment and Didi emerged. She was wearing pajamas of a goldenrod hue that appeared to be satin, but which were probably polyester or acrylic. Her blond hair was a slightly darker shade since it was wet. She had her towel draped across her shoulders to catch the drips.

"Too bad about the hairdryer," Cam commented. "Looks like you could use one right now."

Didi shook her head. "It's not that big a deal. When I have to go to bed with wet hair, I usually just pull it up behind me and lay it above my head on the pillow."

"Whatever works. I just hope you don't catch cold."

"Don't worry about it. By the time you get out of the tub (or shower, whichever you prefer), it'll probably be half dry." She sat down on the edge of his bed and removed the towel from her shoulders, bending her head so she could dry the ends of her locks.

"Since I showered earlier, I think I'll soak a bit this time, too," said Cam.

"I rinsed the tub out for you, just in case."

"Thanks; I appreciate it."

"It's the strangest thing . . ."

"What?" Cam queried, as he removed his belongings from the sack.

"I could've sworn I painted my toenails last night after I ate dinner, but . . . look at my toes—not a trace of polish anywhere! And the polish I use is not water soluble."

Cam picked up his pajamas from his bed and stood, with his bundle in his arms, looking at Didi's toes. "Maybe you just thought you painted them last night," he said in a conciliatory tone. "It might've been something you'd planned to do—and you had it on your mind so much, you actually thought you'd done it—but you never really did."

"Maybe . . ." Didi said, sounding unconvinced.

"Anyway, if your toenails were painted, why didn't you notice the difference before? You've been wearing sandals all day."

"I was distracted. Waking up here, meeting all of you, seeing the Chak-tuk for the first time . . . everything that's happened has been pretty overwhelming. I wasn't that concerned about my toenails. But, while I was in the tub and looking at my feet, I noticed: they're bare, and they shouldn't be."

"So, if you're sure you painted them, what's the explanation?"

Didi shook her head. "I don't know; I'm just puzzled. But you could be right: I might not have painted them after all. I could've sworn I did, though . . . really."

"Well, I wouldn't lose any sleep over it. It's not like your hair fell out, or anything."

"True. Maybe everything that's happened has just rattled me a little. But I should be okay. I just need to try to accept what is, and stop being so suspicious of everything."

"Are you suspicious of me?" Cam asked with a soft smile of irony on his face.

Didi shook her head. "No, not at all. I firmly believe that you and the others are all trustworthy people. You're a close-knit group—almost like a second family to each other. You rely on and help one another. That's a really great thing. I wish I were a part of something like that—outside of my family, I mean."

"You are now, Didi," Cam told her. "You know about the Stargate. Only a small percentage of the earth's population is even aware of its existence. On top of that, you've become a part of the inner circle. SG-1 is the elite, and I'm making you an honorary member." He smiled at her again.

She smiled back. "Thanks, Cam. Even being an honorary member is a privilege."

"When we get back to Earth, I'll even get you a patch or two. Of course, you'll never be able to wear them in public. . .."

She laughed. "Go take your bath. It's getting late."

"Yes, ma'am." Cam returned the mock salute she'd given him earlier and dutifully entered the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Didi walked around and put her dirty clothes in the corner nearest her bed, then returned to the dresser and laid her towel across the top of it to dry. She didn't think it was wet enough to damage the finish.

She climbed over Cam's bed and onto her own, propped her pillow up against the wall and leaned against it, stretching her legs out in front of her. She then pulled her hair up and back behind her and spread it across the top edge of the pillow. She closed her eyes. It was time for more introspection.

She really did trust Cam. She knew somehow that she could—that he would never intentionally do anything to hurt her. In fact, she knew he'd do everything in his power to prevent her from being hurt by anyone or anything. He was exactly the kind of man her romantic heart had always longed for. . ..

She had been so young when she and Tad had decided they wanted to spend their lives together. He was the only young man with whom she had ever really had any kind of a relationship. It had never so much as occurred to her that there might be someone else out there who would be a better match for her: someone who would love her enough to stay with her, despite her inability to have children; someone who would be willing to adopt children . . . or do whatever else was possible or necessary, so that they could have a family together.

Because of the things he had said earlier, she was certain that Cam was that kind of man. If only they had met sooner . . ..

As she pictured his face in her mind, a memory from long ago presented itself. It was a newspaper photograph of a high school quarterback who'd made the Kansas All-State Football Team. He was from Auburn and his name was . . . Cameron Mitchell!

Didi's eyes opened wide and so did the bathroom door. Cam came out, wearing cotton pajamas with vertical stripes of teal, chocolate brown, white and maroon. He was vigorously drying his hair with his towel . . . and he was clean-shaven! Without the five days' growth of beard, he was incredibly handsome—even more than he was way back when.

"You okay?" he asked Didi. "You look like something . . . startled you."

"It did," she replied. "I just remembered having seen you before today—sort of."

"Oh, really? Where and when?"

"The sports page of every newspaper in Topeka, back in '86. I had the biggest crush on you. . .."

Cam laughed. "Yeah, a lot of girls did. Some of 'em I knew about; most I didn't."

"I can't believe I didn't recognize you when we first met this afternoon!" She paused momentarily. "But, then . . . it was twenty-two years ago, and I was only twelve at the time. . . And the newspaper photographs really didn't do you justice. . .."

"So, how long did this crush of yours last?" Cam queried, a look of mild amusement on his face.

"Not long. When football season ended, so did my crush. There were no more newspaper photographs to drool over on a weekly basis; no more games for you to win . . . so, I moved on. I very much doubt, though, that you would've cared one iota about the short-lived crush of a skinny little twelve-year-old from Topeka if you had known about it. . .."

"That was a long time ago. You're not 'a skinny little twelve-year-old' anymore . . . far from it."

Didi wasn't sure what to say to that, if anything. She could've told him that he was even more handsome now than he'd been in high school, but since they'd only met a few hours ago, she thought it was a little too soon to get that personal.

Prompted by her silence—and with a look of concern on his face—Cam asked, "Is the fact that you know who I am now going to affect the interaction between us?"

Didi shook her head. "No, I just . . . It caught me by surprise, that's all. And I'm really tired, too. It's been a long, eventful—one might even say a rather traumatic—day. I think my brain and my emotions have both been overloaded. Realizing that you're the same Cameron Mitchell that I had a crush on (albeit from afar) twenty-two years ago was enough of a shock to my already overtaxed psyche that I'm feeling kind of out of it right now."

Cam nodded. "I understand. I felt the same way the day I first found out about the Stargate. I'd never really believed in alien abductions, or UFO sightings, or any of that . . . crap, as I thought of it. Imagine my surprise when I found out it was all real! —well, most of it anyway. There're still a few people out there who're crackpots; there always will be. But the point is, I know how you feel. . .

"So," he continued, "how about we call it a night and spend most of tomorrow in more question-and-answer sessions? I don't know about you, but . . . I'd kinda like to find out more about the woman whose life I'm going to be protecting."

"And I'd like to know more about the man with whom I'm entrusting my life."

"Maybe we should just ask Gor-lak to let us view each other's memory archives," Cam teased.

"Not on your life! There're probably things in mine even I wouldn't want to see."

"I was joking, Didi. You really do need to get to know me better. And you need to loosen up a little more. I know it's kind of hard under the circumstances; but, being tightly wound for the three days we're going to be alone in this room before they take us to the arena for our event is just going to make life harder all around." He wandered back into the bathroom and threw his towel over the bar holding the shower curtain. "Maybe we should have another pillow fight or something."

"Or something . . . maybe. But it has to be spontaneous or it won't work."

"True enough," Cam averred, coming back out of the bathroom and climbing onto his bed. "In the meantime . . . if, for whatever reason, you feel inclined to dream about me tonight, you have my permission to do so."

Didi looked over at him and smiled. "I'd certainly rather dream about you than about Gor-lak."

Cam shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Oh, for crying out loud! Do you have any idea what you just did? My first night here, I did nothing but dream about Gor-lak and that butt-ugly face of his! Every night after that, I relived the battles my colleagues fought in the arena. I was hoping that, just this once, I could dream about something pleasant. But you had to go and ruin it by mentioning Gor-lak!"

"I'm sorry. I was trying to be . . . amusing. I didn't know."

"No, I guess you didn't," Cam admitted, slightly mollified.

"If it would help, I could try singing you to sleep . . . It always works with my nieces and nephews when I'm babysitting. . .."

Cam nodded. "If you've got a good voice, I think I'd like that."

"I do," she said defensively. "I want to turn off the lights first, though: I'd rather sing in the dark. It makes me feel a little less . . . out there. So, where's the light switch?"

"It's over by the door. I don't know about this one, but Gor-lak made the one in the other room voice-activated and it responds to a short command in English."

"And what command would that be?"

"'Lights out,'" Cam said quietly.

"Lights out!" Didi repeated loudly.

Instantly, the room went dark. Didi smiled, climbed between her sheets and said, "Good night, Colonel Cameron Mitchell, quarterback and Air Force pilot extraordinaire!"

"Good night, Didina Steadman . . . whom I really wish I knew more about. I'm glad I met you."

"Me too."

"So, when does the concert begin?"

"Give me a sec. I have to prepare myself. This is a new experience for me."

"Take all the time you need: I'm not going anywhere."

Didi took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Okay. I think I'm about ready."

"I know I said this before, but you're a darned good sport, Didi."

"Tad said the same thing to me the day I signed the divorce papers."

"I swear, if I ever meet that man—"

"You won't. He moved to Oklahoma City last year."

"Good. I'd hate for you to see the kind of man I can be when I really dislike someone."

"Did you ever put a dent in a locker door?"

"Once or twice. Why?"

"My brother, Mike, did that back in high school when his girlfriend dumped him for a jock. He's a serious musician—and a darned good one, too. Jennifer broke his heart. For a few years after that, all he wrote were sad love songs—'til he met Ashley, his wife."

"If your brother was a musician and hit his locker door hard enough to put a dent in it, he must've been really pi . . . uh . . . angry."

"Thank you, Cam," Didi said with a slight chuckle.

"For what?"

"For censoring yourself. Most guys don't bother these days, 'cause most women don't care."

"If there's one significant thing I've learned about you today, Didina Steadman, it's that you're not like most women. I guess that's why I like you so much."

"Again, thank you. I like you, too."

"That's good to know. It's important that we . . . like each other."

Didi was bright enough to understand the nuance of his pausing before saying—and then emphasizing—the word like. However, she wasn't ready to go there just yet.

She smiled softly in the darkness nonetheless and began to sing.