Turning away from the typewriter, Carolyn opened up the latest letter from Jon . . . well really it was more from Jo but she always liked to say her son was the one doing the writing. Scanning the pages, she stopped at his hasty scrawl near the bottom of the last page.

"Hey Mom, just wanted to say how much I miss you and Dad. And I REALLY miss the cool breezes off the Atlantic. Schooner Bay feels like a million miles away. We're doing fine, and the kids are kinda brown, but happy. You'll be amazed how much Arabic they've picked up already. Gregg tells me he could eat machboos every day (rice and chicken dish) but of course his sister wants nothing but lugaimat (fried dumplings with syrup and saffron). I also told Jo I get to be the first to tell you that SURPRISE we have another Muir grandchild in production! Tell Dad and Cor we miss them a lot! Whole bunches of love! J"

Sighing, she took out the picture from the envelope. Nothing but joys and happy smiles to be seen. Yet she knew from the news that political tensions were getting more intense between Iraq and Kuwait. She was about to pick up the latest Newsweek to read their recent report, but was distracted by the increasingly heated discussion happening on the porch below.

"Daniel, you must be jesting!" Geoff grumbled, "Surely you are aware of my responsibilities? I am not a carrier pigeon, able to flurry back and forth between Gull Cottage and Kuwait. Your family is doing well on the other side of the world. Uncomfortably hot to be certain, but happy. Kindly cease asking me to, as you say, 'check in' on them."

Glowering at his old friend and colleague, Daniel allowed himself a small sigh and shrug of his shoulders. "Certainly," he paused, "if it's asking too much of you. Of course, you shouldn't overwork yourself at your point of life, or rather afterlife."

He looked up suddenly when the crack of lightning and roll of thunder sounded in the clear sky over the front garden.

"Oh, you thought YOU were the only one who could call upon ghostly weather manifestations?" Geoff said crisply.

Smiling at the memory of all the times in the past when she'd been the cause of a Gregg inspired roll of thunder, Carolyn called out over the balcony window, "Daniel, that wasn't you, was it?"

"No M'dear, merely a temper squall, but not of my making."

"Now Captain," Cor added, stepping out into the yard between the two men. "We both know you didn't create it, oh but yes indeed, it WAS of your making."

"Grateful for the words of support Miss Cordelia," Geoff offered with a bow as he faded quickly from sight.

Hands clasped behind his back, Daniel began to pace slowly along the pathway toward the gate and back again to the steps. While the words weren't audible, whatever curses were coming out were gaining in anger and frustration. Finally he took a vengeful kick at the gate and stalked across the road to stare out over the ocean.

Carolyn inched her way further onto the balcony and looked down thoughtfully at him. 'He can't keep on this way. At first I thought it was just missing the grandchildren, but it has to be something more. If he won't talk to me, he has to talk to someone.' Plopping her pages on the desk, she went in search of Cordelia. She only made it a few steps when Cor herself came around the corner with two steaming cups of coffee in hand.

"I wondered when you would have had enough," she smiled, handing over a cup to her employer. "Frankly I wasn't sure how to begin this conversation. Thanks for making the decision yourself."

"Oh Cor," she said quietly. "I can guess, I can wonder, but over this last month it's clear Daniel doesn't want to talk about what is making him so unhappy." Looking at her seriously she continued, "But I have to believe that you know. So what's going on?"

Pausing she walked out onto the balcony and watched Daniel stalk forcefully down the beach toward the cliffs. "For years now I have been his wife. It's something I always wanted, long before I even admitted it to myself. I still have to admit it is a wonderful thing, but in all this time I never stopped wondering, 'Is it now? Has it finally become too much?"

Joining her on the balcony, Cor merely nodded. "Go on."

"In the beginning, when he chose to lose his powers, I'm sure he only thought about how it would mean gaining all of us. I have no doubt that he feels it was the right choice, but to be honest, I always assumed one day he'd have . . . maybe regrets? Sorry to that his is no longer almost like a god in his powers with all those abilities."

She sat down on the bench, no longer able to see him pacing along the shoreline below. "Funny, it always seemed inevitable. ANYONE would miss being able to do all of that. The popping in and out, appearing anywhere you want, seeing anyone or anything. Now that Candi is off in Los Angeles with her baby due in a month, and Jon and the kids are on the other side of the world, he has to miss it. Am I close?"

"Oh you've caught some of it," Cor said quietly, "but there is still more. Unfortunately there isn't a lot we can do to help him at this moment."

Smiling as Skippy trotted out to join them, Cor reached down and settled the puppy on her lap. Steadily scratching her behind her ear, she continued thoughtfully. "There isn't a lot known of course of what really happens when someone who has passed returns the way he has. It means we're all learning something new at each turn. It feels rather like he's feeling the echoes of something. You know, the way someone who loses an arm or a leg can still feel the phantom limb. As far as I can tell, he's not actively missing what you describe. It's more that something that is gone is still calling out to him. He can't use it, can't touch it, can't stop it."

"Mercy," Carolyn whispered. "Sounds terrible."

"It would if he understood, but it seems as if he's going to be the last person to recognize the call. And don't worry too much ma'am, since you've wondered, I can assure you that he NEVER regretted what he gave up to have you. Well, you and the children in fact. Yet sometime powers don't let you go, even if you wish they would. Does that help?"

"A bit. So there's nothing to be done but let him storm about?"

"For now. Does that help at all?"

"Somewhat. So I shouldn't try and talk him out of this? Help him think it through?"

"At some point he'll find a bit of clarity, and that's when he'll want to talk it though with you no doubt. Until then it'll just feel like you are trying to solve his problems for him."

"Right, and in his current mood, that's not a good idea." Giving Cor a rare hug, she continued. "Even without psychic skills I know a bad course when I hear it."

Heading back into the office, she picked up her editing. "Maybe have something special for dinner? That wouldn't hurt," Carolyn said as Cor and the pup headed down the stairs.

Seeing her pull the lobsters out of the refrigerator, Skippy gave her a wide dog smile. Circling her happily she looked up with anticipation.

"Too bad, but you're wrong," Cor offered. "It's too close to your dinner my friend," she said with a last friendly pat. "But you're a dog after all, being hopefully wrong is part of your job, true?"

Smiling as the dog continued hopefully swishing her tail back and forth, Cor turned to work on the lobster pie she hoped would lift the spirits of the household a bit.

Dinner finished, pie appreciated without any material effect on household spirits, Carolyn and Daniel retired to the parlor.

"If you don't mind the suggestion," she offered holding out a decanter, "perhaps a brandy might improve your spirits a bit?"

"Not bloody likely," he grumbled. Turning to her suddenly he continued, "Surely my dear, you know you don't have to put up with this? This is my burden to bear. I'm just sorry you have to see me be an unvarnished and miserable failure." Holding her hand briefly, he gave it a small squeeze and sat down, staring into the fire.

"Failure?" Carolyn said with widened eyes, "You think you're a failure? News to me." She curled up on the rug in front of him and turned his face toward hers. "Care to help me understand what is going on here?"

"It's not a word I use lightly," he frowned. "It's almost as if I'm being haunted by something." Combing his fingers through his hair, he allowed himself a chortle. "And that's something coming from me isn't it? Yet it feels just like that."

Tossing back half of the brandy, he paused, appreciating the burn rolling down the specter of his throat. Stalking across the room he continued, "It is as if the person I am, or the person I was, has no place, no purpose."

Slamming his hand against the mantle in frustration, the shelf gave away and the picture above crashed to the ground just missing the fireplace. Startled Carolyn rose quickly and picked up the portrait. The frame was cracked and paint had peeled from the lower corner of the picture.

With more calmness than she truly felt, Carolyn set the large picture on the couch. "Destroying your past isn't going to help you find your future is it?"

"Or my present for that matter," he grumbled pouring them both another brandy.