Stephenie Meyer owns these characters. I wish Edward was mine.

Thanks to Lezlee, who betad this amidst midterm chaos, and to my pre-readers Malianani and Miaokuancha for their always insightful comments.

Many thanks also to my writing friends and the kind readers who encouraged me while I dealt with the demon Writer's Block. It was scary for a while there. I thought Edward had left me. But he knew where this chapter needed to go; I just had to be patient and wait for him to tell me. What follows is nothing like originally outlined, but he and I both feel it's much, much better.

Playlist Pick:
Into My Arms – Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds

Previously, on Fox Fire: Edward and Bella enjoyed an afternoon exploring the Cullen homestead. Afterwards, Edward and Carlisle discussed the circumstances surrounding a suspicious death. We rejoin Edward much later that same night...

TIN MAN

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

The booming voice nearly scared me out of my skin. Swearing, scrabbling amongst the pine boughs, I fought to keep from plummeting to the damp earth below. It was a full second before I realized the question wasn't directed at me. I'd just happened to pause near a house on the outskirts of town when the man inside spoke out, rousing himself from sleep.

Not again... He'd woken his wife too. Though mildly annoyed, she was used to these late night outbursts.

"Ssh, Dan. You're dreaming."

I watched through her eyes as he peered into the darkness, disoriented.

"I swear I heard Tyler sneaking out back."

"He won't try that again. Not after the grounding you gave him last time."

I heard the rasp of stubble as he scratched his cheek.

"It was just the wind," she soothed, massaging his shoulders. "Now, go back to sleep."

I let out the unnecessary breath I'd been holding, but stayed where I was till they'd settled back under the covers. That had been too close, I decided, diving into the forest verge. The next time, I'd come into town the back way.

Forks slept, and I could hear the townsfolk dreaming. It was the natural order of things at this late hour. No one walked the streets – no one but me, unnatural and eternally awake, existing in the shadows between life and death. Most vampires relish the night, when they can move about freely and hunt their prey, but it was at night that my gift became more like a curse.

I'd been privy to human dreams since my new birth, and it took me a great deal of practice to be able to walk through a city at night without being overwhelmed by their sensory onslaught. I still found it difficult; I was grateful that, wherever we chose to live, it was always far enough from a populated area that I could get some respite from it.

How absurd it was that there was one human whose dreams I'd give anything to hear. But whatever mental armour it was that Bella possessed, she wore it night and day. Her white house was just across a few feet of lawn now. I leaped from the closest pine onto the wall, feeling the clapboard siding give slightly beneath my fingers.

The faint, musty aroma of a wet dog's fur was instantly cloying. Black and his son had left hours ago but their presence lingered distinctly. Remnants of it clung to the timbers as it did in the memory of Bella's sleeping father. I sensed that harsh words had been spoken between old friends. What had happened?

Had Black come to warn Chief Swan about me?

No doubt he'd informed the Band Council that he'd seen Bella and me together the other night—even though I'd done nothing wrong, and Forks was neutral ground. They probably knew I was here right now. I felt like they had eyes everywhere.

Old Quil had spoken the truth that night on the cliff top when he said that they watched us. They'd known that nomadic vampires had been hunting campers in Yellowstone. But, how?

I'd seen a lot of things in my lifetime that couldn't be explained by reason and science. Reason and science would have me dismiss the notion, but I couldn't help wondering if the Quileutes still communed with spirits in the way their ancestors once claimed to. Perhaps they weren't the diminished race we believed them to be.

It was wrong to push the boundaries of the treaty like this, but I had to see her. I had no intention of leaving her unprotected. Not after the death that had occurred on the weekend. Humans weren't safe in Forks.

Silly girl: why had she left the window ajar? All the heat in the room was leeching out and the radiator barely replenished it. It wasn't healthy for her to sleep in the cold; she'd just end up getting sick again.

Bella. My Bella. I vaulted the ledge, buffeted at once by her blood scent, riding the wave of sweet poison that made me whole. It felt like days had passed since we'd been together.

I wouldn't stay long.

My feet hit the floorboards without a sound, but I could tell by the cadence of her breathing that she was awake. At the faint scrape of the sash being lowered, she stirred, turning her sweet face to me.

"You came back."

It must have been the moonlight playing through the curtains that did it, but in that moment I saw her as the immortal beauty Alice predicted she'd one day become. Transfixed, I reached for that phantasm; hating myself instantly, I kneeled by her bed, penitent and charmed all at once.

"You should be asleep." Fainthearted admonition from a lovesick fool.

"I couldn't sleep. I missed you too much."

She sat up and took my hand, pulling me to sit beside her. If it weren't for the chill of my icy skin, I could have dived beneath those cosy blankets myself. I traced the length of her jaw with the backs of my fingers, allowing the tender friction to warm me instead.

"You'll be tired tomorrow."

"I don't like it when we're apart." She placed her free hand over her heart. "It hurts."

How well I knew that pain. My heart might not beat, but I could still feel it. I felt everything now. How could it be a figment of my imagination when it was all so real?

"I don't like it, either," I admitted, reaching for a curl that had found its way out of her pony tail.

She smiled shyly, letting me play with it on my fingers, and her dove's eyes beckoned me closer. Her scent was more enticing than any perfume—like precious myrrh—and my lips were on hers before I knew it. She opened them to me, letting me taste the milk and honey there.

I could have kissed those lips until the sun came up but the pulse in her throat began to throb, echoed by an erratic pounding of her heart. My hand cradled her neck; I felt the beat under my thumb and for an instant the blood haze was all I could see. But she was the one who broke the kiss, turning away with a small gasp. I laughed softly, realizing what had happened. It let me regain some composure.

"Remember to breathe, Bella."

"Inconvenient human need," she grumbled, resting her cheek against my chest. "Too bad it's necessary for life."

She'd freeze with only the thin material of our shirts between us, so I grabbed the afghan off the rocking chair. She stretched out underneath it, warming me with the entire length of her slender body. We held each other like that, in contented silence, for a long time. Her breathing evened out, and she was quiet for so long that I began to wonder if she'd fallen asleep. I was startled when she finally spoke.

"Is it like this for everyone, do you think—being in love?"

Was it? Had any two people ever had such odds stacked against their happiness? Had anyone ever loved as we did?

She played with the button at my collar. "I mean, is it supposed to hurt so much? A couple of months ago I didn't even know you. Now, I feel like I couldn't live without you."

I didn't like to hear her say those things. I couldn't bear to think of a world in which she didn't exist.

"If something ever happened to you . . . "

I chuckled, pressing the end of her nose with a fingertip. "Fortunately, I'm pretty much indestructible."

But she wasn't, and I couldn't stop fear from gripping my heart as I worried, for what seemed the hundred-thousandth time, that something might still happen to her because she knew me.

My diversion worked though; she laughed and snuggled closer. "You didn't answer my question."

"I'm not sure. But I do know that, for my kind . . . we feel things intensely. More so than humans . . . It's difficult to explain."

It would have been easier to show her. One look at my parents when they were together, said everything. The silent communication between Jasper and Alice spoke more eloquently than any volume of poetry, and Emmett's love for Rosalie was equally profound. He did everything wholeheartedly.

"I feel things intensely." Bella nodded against my chest. "I must be like you, then."

"What?" she demanded, feeling my sudden tension. She turned, sitting upright to face me.

As she did, I saw her breasts sway underneath her t-shirt. I made myself look away, ashamed and also relieved that she couldn't see the part my body that had responded underneath the blanket. If she'd felt it, she chose to ignore it. Her train of thought steamed on.

"And you've never felt this way before? About anyone?"

I was quite certain that I'd never felt anything at all before I'd met her. I'd been frozen as the inexperienced boy I was in 1918. She'd brought me to life. I tilted her chin so I could look into her eyes, willing her to feel my truth.

"Never."

Her blush rose in a heat-wave from her heart, flushing even the helixes of her ears and I swallowed hard, trying not to think about how easily the path of sweet nectar under the skin could be diverted to fill my dry veins. That was not allowed. Not now; not ever.

"That makes me sad." She touched a hand to my cheek. "I don't like to think about you being alone all that time. You should have been loved."

I barked a laugh. I should have been imprisoned for all the terrible things I'd done in my past. If she only knew . . .

"You never had a girlfriend when you were human?"

"Oh . . . well, things were very different back then."

The Latin school I'd attended had been segregated. Girls were mysterious creatures I met at chaperoned social events, and by all accounts I'd been far from suave. Besides, I'd been obsessed with fighting in the Great War. This much, I'd been able to piece together from the diaries Carlisle had salvaged for me.

But, if I'd met Bella then, would I have courted her? Would I have tucked a lock of her hair into my breast pocket on the eve of battle, taking it to my death in some unmarked French grave?

"What about later? You said there are others of your kind . . . "

It was indelicate to talk about this. What I'd experienced of love and lust through the minds of others had been at best embarrassing, at worst downright horrific. Imagine hearing those thoughts, multiplied a thousand-fold every day, over the course of a century.

It was why I found it difficult to be around my Denali cousins for any length of time. Especially Tanya, though she tried harder than her sisters to be a friend to me. If Bella had those thoughts; I was glad I'd never know for sure.

"Nobody really caught my fancy, I suppose." I don't think I articulated my answer very well.

"Why not?" she demanded. "You could have anyone you want."

That was it; I did not want just anyone. I'd been waiting for her, had I only known it.

"All the girls at school are in love with you," she persisted.

And a few of the boys were too. There was no shame in what they felt. When they left the confines of this small town in a few years, they'd learn that for themselves.

"That's why Lauren spreads those rumours—to get back at you because you turned her down. You said no to Jessica too, right?"

They were both so jealous of Bella. She'd never believe the truth if I told it to her.

"Those girls don't matter. Remember, I told you that before?"

"I know . . . " She folded both her hands around one of mine. "You have to go soon, don't you?"

"I really should. You need your sleep."

"What's it like to be awake all the time?" She was like a little child, stalling before bedtime. "What do you do at night? When you're not watching me sleep, I mean. Where do you go?"

"Don't you ever run out of questions?"

"I want to know."

I kissed the top of her head. "I don't remember being able to sleep, so I can't tell you what it's like not to. And having so much free time on your hands can be quite boring, actually. It's true"—she'd just raised her eyebrows doubtfully at me—"And it's lonely too. I'm lucky to have my family. Most vampires don't."

Carlisle had known some who'd been driven mad by the ennui of immortality.

"Do you ever get tired?"

"Not in the same way you do."

"Do you dream?"

"Yes."

"Like, daydreams?"

I sighed. "You'renot about to dream anytime soon, are you?"

"Nope," she chuckled.

"All right, then. It's your turn." I reached beneath the bed for the sketchbook that lay there and opened it on her lap. "Tell me a story."

She gasped. "How did you know that-? Ugh, never mind." She scrubbed her face in her hand. "You have got to be kidding me."

I grinned at her.

"They're awful!"

"Not true. Why aren't you taking Art?"

"The class was full; they made me take Gym instead. Yay," she added facetiously, then folded her arms defiantly over her chest. We glowered at one another.

"Fine," she huffed, beginning to flick through the book. "Don't expect to be dazzled or anything . . . That's the view from my mother's back porch. She sits on that comfy chair to watch the sunrise every morning. Those mountains in the background are the McDowells."

She flipped the page. "This one's enlarged from a photo I took of her. I went through this phase where all I drew was hands. It's really hard to get them right, you know.

"Renee always says I've got her hands ." She looked away pensively. "I'm starting not to miss her so much. Do you think that makes me a bad daughter?"

She'd made her first steps at creating a life of her own by coming here. In another year, she'd leave to go to college. It was the way things were supposed to be. Would she forget me then, as she should? I didn't think she really wanted an answer to her question, so I let her go on.

"She didn't want me to move out. She never said so, but I could tell. But she and Phil belong together. If I'd stayed, she'd only have been unhappy."

"So you came here—and made yourself unhappy instead."

"Not so much, anymore," she said, brushing her lips against mine.

The beach scenery in the next drawing was immediately recognizable. "La Push hasn't changed since I spent summers there as a kid. I guess why would it, huh?" She voiced my unspoken thought. "Nothing ever changes around here."

The last sketch she showed me depicted her father napping on the lounge.

"Charlie and I do all right. We understand one other. And he works hard, you know? He puts everyone else before himself." Like father,like daughter.

"I can't resent the time he spends with his friends. He deserves it." She shook her head, perplexed, and I was immediately alert. "I just wish I knew what happened between him and Billy after supper tonight. One minute, they're sharing a few beers over the game; the next, they're in the middle of an argument."

I'd picked that much up from her father's memories. Apparently, they'd been discussing the death near the mill on Saturday—the same one he'd been thinking about when he got home. Black had taken Chief Swan's warning about a predatory animal seriously until he learned that Carlisle had been in charge of the autopsy.

"He said there were plenty of dangerous animals out in the woods and the Quileutes could take care of themselves. Besides, how would some big city doctor know the difference between a bear and a wolf print, anyway?

"'Not that old song and dance again', my dad said. He's mad because Billy won't let Carlisle treat his diabetes. And some other members of the tribe have started going to the clinic at Port Angeles too. Charlie thinks he should show them a good example because he's on the Band council, but he won't listen. Ugh, they're both so stubborn."

What I would have given to be a fly on the wall just then! It must have killed Black to remain silent, but he wasn't foolish enough to breach the treaty. I did wonder, though, if he'd made mention of seeing Bella and me together the other day.

"No, but he kept giving me this look, you know?" She bit her lip. "And then when he left he said"—she affected an ominous tone of voice—"'you take care, Bella'.

"He really does believe the stories about your family, doesn't he?"

She already knew about our animosity with the Quileutes. There was no need to sour her relationship with the Black family; Billy was her father's best friend, and she seemed genuinely fond of his son.

"I guess old prejudices die hard," was all I could say. She gave me a hard look, but didn't challenge it.

"Anyway, I felt sorry for Jake," she confided. "He was just embarrassed."

I started pulling on the end of her ponytail, trying not to think about how uncomfortable it made me when she spoke about him.

"He's not prejudiced. He doesn't think the stories are real."

That's because he doesn't know any better . . . Yet. "So you've said." I pushed the ponytail aside so I could bury my nose into the hairline just behind her ear.

She pushed me away with a chuckle. "You should meet him sometime."

I coughed cynically. "I don't think that would be a very good idea."

"What? Are vampires and Quileutes like matter and anti-matter, or something? The universe'll explode if you show up in the same place at the same time?"

I frowned. "Something like that."

"He's a nice boy."

Of course he was nice; he carried a huge torch for her. But I could tell that my comment had hurt her feelings.

"You like him a lot, don't you?"

"Our dads used to joke that we'd end getting married one day." She laughed while I struggled to bite back a wave of jealousy-overamereboy!

"He's my best friend. . . Best human friend," she qualified.

I didn't want to talk about Quileutes anymore. I tried to distract her. "Show me some more drawings."

"No way." She flipped the book closed, holding it protectively close. "You've probably already seen them anyway. One night while I fast asleep, no doubt." She scowled. "Good thing I don't keep a diary."

My disappointment must have been evident because she was quick to add,
"You're going to have to pose for me one day. In our meadow."

I liked that she called it 'ours'—and her assumption that we'd be going back there again.

"But . . ."

"What?"

There was a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I'm not sure how much glitter paint I'd need," she murmured, brushing my cheekbone. "To get the right effect. You, with golden eyes, and your sparkles . . ."

"And your sticking-up hair." Her grin was the last thing I saw before my eyes rolled shut, before I was overcome by the sensation of her fingers raking through the hair at my temple . . . threading through the strands, again and again.

I opened my eyes, surprised as always to find she'd come so close. She wore that same smile of wonder she'd given me yesterday. And, like yesterday, she spoke the healing words I'd waited my whole life to hear.

"You are beautiful."

"I love you." I could finally say those words aloud.

I took her hand, bringing it to my lips to kiss the pulse point at the wrist. She was blushing again. I wanted to feel her lips under mine, and there they were—hot and soft and alive. Waiting for me, opening to me. She was my life.

"I remembered to come up from air that time," she pointed out when we broke this kiss. We were lying side by side.

I laughed. "Yes, I noticed that."

"Do you have to go now?" she asked

"It is a school night."

She sighed. "It seems weird that we have to go back to school tomorrow, doesn't it?"

Even to me, Forks High felt like a distant and foreign place—like I'd been a different person when I was there.

"Did you do your homework?"

I grinned. "Not even one lick of it."

"I took notes in Bio. You didn't really miss anything."

"I didn't think so."

"Stay," she begged. "Just till I'm asleep."

How could I leave her now? But I needed to. Listening to her heartbeat like that was dangerously exciting.

"Stay," she repeated.

I rested my thumb at the base of her throat – the suprasternal notch—trailing my fingers along the collarbone. One day, I'd be strong enough to kiss her there, where the pulse was. No other man would ever claim that place as his own.

I knew I couldn't leave.

"Shall I sing to you?" I tucked an arm under her pillow as she curled into me.

"No." She wrapped my other arm over her side at the dip of her waist. I'd seen the smooth skin there, briefly exposed on Saturday. I felt it now as the material of her t-shirt shifted. Fiery silk.

"Just hold me."

Gradually, her racing heartbeat slowed to a slow and steady rhythm. A lub-dub and a pause, syncopated with her breathing. I matched my unnecessary breaths with hers. If I'd had a heart, I would have made it beat for her.

For now, hers beat for the both of us.

I'd stayed too long. She'd cried out in her dreams, thrashing under the thin blankets, coming undone from them. I thought she was having a nightmare until she turned to press the length of her body against mine and began whispering my name.

My kisses didn't quiet her. Her sighs became moans and I worried her father might awaken. I should have left then—before her blood heat rose, causing a coiling, a quickening in my loins. She moved against that part of me that already ached and strained shamefully. I wanted nothing more than to roll her beneath me. When her lips met mine, they'd parted. I felt the brush of her tongue and I sorely wanted its caress. Were it not for my damned razor sharp teeth!

And that was what I was ashamed of—not that I'd stayed in her bed and taken such liberties with intimacy—but that I couldn't kiss her properly. I could have hurt her. I could have crushed her beneath me—shattered her bones with one thoughtless thrust.

Now I was running so fast, the spray of mist and rain didn't even stick to my skin. Burning through the mud to the spine of the peninsula, I ran to a place of ice and rock and stars and threw myself into the belly of a glacial cirque.

At the bottom of a crevasse, I released my shame and need into an abyss of black-white nothingness. Snow tumbled down, filling my mouth and choking my cries of frustration.

I was a fiend. A lecherous lustful, bloodsucking fiend. She had ravished my heart and taken hold of my soul. It shamed me how much I wanted her.

And I couldn't even kiss her back . . .

A chunk of ice dislodged itself from the mass above and smashed to pieces by my side, rousing me from my stupor. I was cold and wet and dirty. I could not stay here till morning.

A shower... I decided that I needed a very long shower.

There were no humans taking a sunrise hike in the Olympic mountains that morning. But if there had been, no one would have believed their tall story about the way the ground shook and a crack formed in the glacier—and how a young man emerged from the ice, reverse-cannonballing into the sky, to land silently on the lateral moraine and take off at a run so fast it was a blur.

Five miles from home. It was that dark hour of stillness before the dawn, when the nocturnal creatures had retired and those of the day were not yet awake.

I suddenly became alert to the clamour of hooves and the scent of pursuit on the wind. Fear, adrenaline, animal sweat. A mature stag crashed through the underbrush, veering off at the last second, giving a panicked bleat as it saw me.

Its pursuer appeared, less than a second later, deprived of her prey and irate.

"Oh, it's you." Ethereal as Galadriel and just as deadly, Rosalie hunted alone tonight. "That was my deer you just spooked, thanks very much."

"Sorry," I mumbled. Why was I the one apologizing? I wanted to get away, but my contrition caught her off guard.

"I guess you didn't mean it." She decided after a moment. "I wanted a snack, but the ruckus on the reservation has scared all the game to high ground."

She had no reason to explain herself, but talk of the reservation made me uneasy.

"What's going on?"

"The natives are restless." Her grin turned into a smirk, and she waved a dismissive hand. "Who knows? Potlatch or something. Cars have been driving up and down the La Push road all night."

Sound travels quickly in the mountains, and now that she'd drawn my attention to it, I could hear the noise of traffic coming from the reservation.

She raised her eyebrows. "Maybe they're going to war with the Makahs." That was unlikely, given the close relationship between the tribes. She enjoyed controversy however, so I let her continue.

"Carlisle doesn't think we should be concerned, but I don't appreciate the inconvenience. I didn't want to come this far . . . What are you doing out this way?"

"Going home," I hedged.

She frowned, disbelieving, and flicked away a clump of snow that had dislodged itself from beneath the collar of my jacket. "The older you get the more eccentric you become. You're a mess."

She might laugh, but she was more right about that than she knew.

"Alice will have your hide," she predicted, fingering the nap of the damp fabric. I had ruined a good suede jacket.

"And you smell like . . . " She arched an eyebrow. "Never mind."

I pulled away from her, irritated. "Where's your better half?" I growled.

"Oh, we're not always joined at the hip."

He waited for her at home. She imagined the warm welcome he'd give her, and she made me see it. I did not need to be subjected to this right now. I turned on my heel, ready to leave her in the dust but-

"Edward, wait."

She did not wear that look of contrition well. It must have been painful for her. Had I been a lesser man I would have gloated.

I folded my arms over my chest.

She took a breath—sighed it out. "What happened in Port Angeles . . . If I had known, I'd never have said those things to you afterwards."

She gave a false little laugh. "Your restraint is nearly as good as mine these days. If I'd been you, I would have killed those men."

"Then you know how much I wanted to."

"No one deserves to meet an end like that . . . " Her shoulders shook at the old memory. Old, but always fresh and raw for her. "You're very brave."

How I wished I had some sort of recording device on my person. For she had more to say. She'd obviously been rehearsing this—whatever it was—for some time.

"There's no reason to doubt that the girl's proved herself trustworthy so far. The family has decided to respect your wishes as far as she's concerned, and I'll abide by that. I can't support it, but I'll stand by their decision."

"It doesn't mean that I have to like her." she was quick to add.

"And I really don't care if you don't." I'd recovered enough to find my voice and the sound of it was ugly.

"She's not good enough for you," she snapped.

"Because she's human."

"No." She spoke through gritted teeth, and the whisper of her thought was already in the air. No one's good enough for you.

"Because you weren't good enough, or so you thought. And so you've decided that no one else ever could be?"

She shook her head sadly. "You hear the thoughts of others, but do you every really listen? I don't think you do. Because if that's what you believe, brother, then you do not know me at all."

She respects you more than anyone, maybe as much as Carlisle...I hadn't taken Emmett's words seriously before, but I should have. Rosalie would never say them aloud.

"But I know you, and I see how she's changed you. You're almost tolerable these days – when you're not off doing a Byron or composing drippy love ballads." She snickered. "Be realistic though: how long do you think she'll let you play with her? A year? Maybe two? Hm? Unless you turn her, you'll never be able to-"

"Don't you say that, Rosalie!"

"She'll want what you can't give her, and it will tear you apart."

"And why do you care about that?"

You won't make me say it,so get out of my head! She chose a different tactic."If something happens to her or someone finds out what she knows . . . "

"Nothing's going to happen to her. I won't allow it."

"How gallant. But not even you can be everywhere at once. Unless you turn her, she'll always be a liability."

She could see I was becoming angry, so she backed off a pace and sat on a downed log

Carlisle would do it if you asked him to.She wouldn't look at me.He loves you most of all.

I'd never ask that of him and she knew it. I was tired of hearing this argument. "It's not the same as it was for you, and Emmett. I will not end her life before it begins. "

"Her life's already over. Alice has seen it."

"I won't believe that."

She shrugged "Believe what you want. You can't control what's going to happen."

"I've no right to doom her." If only there was some way I could change myself for her. I'd do it in a heartbeat.

"No, you don't." Rosalie shook her head sadly. "But she'll doom herself if it means she can be with you forever."

She elbowed me weakly in the side. "I hate all this bickering. Can't we go back to the way we used to be? Just two foolish kids, madly in hate-without a care in the world?"

I was too troubled to answer her.

"We've got school in an hour." Her voice became hard. "Let's get a move on."

As we ran back home, we came close to the boundary of the reservation. Voices carried from La Push, caught by the wind. Mournful voices, singing to an age-old drumbeat. Chanting a warning...

So, were you surprised by what Rosalie had to say? Frankly, I didn't expect her to hijack the chapter like that, but I'm glad she did. I suspected that there was more to her character than selfishness and vanity. Why do you think she finds it so hard to let her brother know how much she cares?

On another note: by now, I'm sure that most of you have seen Breaking Dawn Part 1. I haven't seen it yet, but I'm curious about what you thought of it. I confess that I really didn't like the book. Will the cinematic version make me 'a believer'? My enquiring mind wants to know!

Thanks again, for taking the time to read this. Your thoughts and comments mean more than you know.

Until next time...