Hey everyone! Thanks for the kind reviews. The updates are few and far between, I know, but I've had terrible writer's block and both my beta and I have been busy. I will try to update more quickly, but no promises. Either way, enjoy this update. Happy reading!

Chapter 5

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I called Fulton before I went to sleep, to tell him what time we'd swing by his apartment to pick him up. It was around that time that Portman and I hadn't actually arranged a place to meet.

I wondered if Portman would remember this and call again, so I ended up staying up for a while. He didn't call back, so I realized not specifying a meeting didn't matter.

Portman, being the person he is, figured that I would know where to go. He figured right. I know exactly where we're supposed to be meeting.

I took a fast shower, and tried to pick what I'd wear. My whole closet was like a trailer park after a tornado before I'd settled on a slimming black shirt and a pair of faded blue Gap jeans that I like because they make my butt look smaller. I pulled out my classic black boots with the three inch heels, put them on, and looked in the mirror.

"Not bad," I compliment myself and turn sideways. "Now, for the hair and makeup."

I curl my slightly longer than shoulder length dirty blond hair with the curling iron to give it a little bounce. It's usually straight and limp. I apply a little foundation make up to my face, and put on a little mascara and eye liner. I put on a light lipstick and a little bit of rouge and stand back to admire my handy-work.

I look a lot like I did when I was twenty-two. I look a lot like I did before he left me. I still have a figure, which is nice, since I can only get to the gym three or four days a week. I actually like to exercise. I stay fit, it's a good way to relieve stress, and every so often I see a girl there who reminds me of Connie when we were teenagers. I miss Connie. It's sort of amusing. That's why Julie Gaffney goes to the gym; to keep a figure of some type and reminisce.

"After taking care of two boys for so long, I can still pull myself together if I really want," I say to no one in particular. "What a pleasant surprise."

It's not so much that I want Portman to be impressed with me. It's partly that I'm afraid he still looks the same while I've gotten older. It's mostly because it's easier to be confident when you know you look nice.

I'm suddenly reminded of another time I was trying to look nice and be confident…and failing miserably.

It was one a cool, crisp, late autumn afternoon in Minnesota. The birds were singing for one of the last times before they migrated, the wind whispered in a soft voice through the trees, and the setting sun was casting a very golden light over the colorful foliage that is unique to autumn.

It was a certain kind of day that gave a person a certain kind of feeling. A feeling that can only be described as one you wish never ended, because it was a feeling that you often longed for but couldn't make happen. It had to come on its own. When it finally did arrive, it warmed your heart, made you smile, and brought relaxation. No- it wasn't love. It was happiness. It was the kind of day and the kind of happiness that make the best kind of memories. It was the kind of day and feeling that's missed when it's gone.

The Eden Hall dormitories in a suburb of Minneapolis held high school students from all over the country. The window of a particular female dorm was open, and inside were two girls, each with a slot on the Varsity hockey team of Eden Hall Academy. One was about 5'5 with beauty, waist length dark hair, a wonderful boyfriend, and confidence; my best friend, Connie Moreau. The other was less beautiful, about 5'7 with shorter shoulder length dirty blond hair, less confidence, and no boyfriend…but a rather hot date. That was me, Julie Gaffney.

"Oh Julie, for crying out loud, it's just a date!" Connie exclaimed after I'd switched shirts for the fourteen hundredth time.

"I know, I know," I mumbled, trying to understand why I suddenly felt fat in every outfit I'd ever owned.

I'd tried on ever pair of jeans I owned. I finally settled on a pair, and then switched shirts a thousand times. Every shirt I put on, no matter how I remembered looking good in it, appeared to make me fat, the mirror betraying my confidence.

"Come on, Julie, relax, it's taken three, almost four years to figure out that you were perfect for him when the rest of us knew all along. You really ought to relax. He likes you. If he didn't, he wouldn't have asked you out," Connie grinned.

"Yeah, I know, but I don't want to blow it, or mess anything up," I muttered, now trying to figure out what to do with my hair and makeup.

"Mess anything up? It's Portman for God's sake, Julie, do you realize how much he's messed up lots of stuff in the time we've known him alone? I'm afraid to think of how he screwed up before we ever met him! Hell, Fulton keeps him in line and he still screws everything up!" Connie smiled.

I tried my best to smile back, but felt a lot more like throwing up. I don't know why I was so nervous. I was never nervous before, ever, on any date. Then one day, out of the blue, Portman finally asked me out. People had been telling us we'd be perfect for each other since…just after the Junior Goodwill Games. I had decided the day would never come, and life went on until he finally asked me. All of a sudden the thought of "hanging out" with Portman, as he put it, was horrifying.

"It's easy for you to say, Connie. You've been with Guy for years. It's easy for you to get along and say relax, but some of us aren't so lucky," I said finally, and then the curling iron got caught in my hair.

Connie put down her magazine, got up off her bed, smiled at my struggling with the curling iron, and took it out of my hands. She untangled it, brushed the section of hair out, and styled it for me. She then did the rest of my head. It wasn't curled, just given a little extra bounce.

"Thanks," I said to her.

"No problem," she smiled that smile that made Guy go weak in the knees and sat back down on her bed with her magazine.

I moved on to my makeup. But I couldn't get that right either, so Connie put down her magazine a second time and helped me with that too.

"Julie, relax, you'll be fine…and look up if you want this eyeliner on."

I obliged and said, "I know, I know, it's just Portman, but…this is so weird. What if it messes up our team?"

"It's not going to," she said, finishing my eyeliner and examining my choice of lipsticks, lip glosses, lip gunk, lip paint, and whatever other lip dressing I had on my dresser at the time. Picking out a light pink one, she said, "Nobody's breaking up the Ducks. Not yet, anyway. We have a whole senior year to go, and another state championship to win. God forbid we let down the Dean and the dear old school board. But I guess the good thing is," she paused momentarily to step back and look at my face, and then continued, "if we do lose the state championship, they can't throw us out. We're seniors. We finish out the year on our scholarships and then we're done."

"True," I smiled. "But that's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, then?" Connie asked, picking a blush and applying it to my cheeks.

"I meant what if it breaks our friendships and stuff? I don't want to be the reason the Ducks stop talking to each other," I said.

"I wouldn't worry. The Ducks never shut up. I don't think you and Portman could get it done if you tried. Don't worry Julie, we're seniors, then we're done…and speaking of done, so are you," she said, holding up a mirror.

I looked at my face. I looked good, I knew it, I was just so nervous at that point it didn't matter. I spent the next fifteen minutes waiting for Portman to pick me up… it felt like hours, and all the while I kept trying to reassure myself that I was well worth his time.

"Mom! We're going to be late!" Jack yelled through the apartment, snapping me back to reality.

Grabbing my black handbag and light burgundy jacket that I wear in Minnesota Septembers before it gets too cold, I walk out of the room to find out what my sons have been doing.

"Sorry, I was daydreaming," I apologize to my sons, realizing they're both carrying their heavy hockey bags with all their gear, "come on, let's go pick up your Uncle Fulton."

"Wow, Mom," Chase says, looking at me and ignoring what I'd just said.

"Wow what?"

"You're made up all-"

"-different," Jack cut Chase off mid-sentence.

"Different how?" I ask my sons.

"Different like…more than usual," Chase answers.

"I see. This is how I do my makeup when I go out. Way back before I had you two, when I had a life," I smile at them.

"You had a life? No way!" Chase feigns astonishment, and then both he and Jack crack up laughing.

"Yes, I had a life once. Then I gave up that life for this one…this makeup isn't too over the top, is it?" I ask them.

They step back and look me up and down. "It's pretty," Jack says finally. "You look good, Mom."

"Who are you trying to impress?" Chase jokes.

"Nobody," I smile back, as we leave the apartment, I lock the door, and we start down the hallway towards the elevator.

"You're not trying to impress…oh fucker, what should we call him?" Jack says, with a perplexed look. Chase's eyes widen for the first time when he realizes that they don't know what name they should be calling Portman.

"Watch your language," I say sharply. "And just call him Dad."

Jack and Chase seem to accept this, and then, Jack goes back to his original question. "You're not trying to impress him, Mom, are you?"

"No, I'm not," I answer flatly.

"You know, you did just fine without him. So if you don't want to go-" Jack starts again, but I stop him.

"Jack, we're going. I'll be fine. And I know I did just fine without him. Now stop trying to talk me out of this. Don't you want to go?" I ask my son.

"Yeah, I want to go, and Chase does too, but we're worried about you, Mom," Jack sighs, "but you deserve better than what happened to you. You're my favorite mom in the whole world."

"How many moms do you have?" I tease. "Don't worry, I'm fine with this." I realized as I said it that I felt like I was going to hurl all over the place—just like I felt on that first date.

"Well, if you want to back out, we'd understand," Chase adds, smiling.

"I don't want to back out, but I'm beginning to think the two of you do," I say, as we step out of the building's elevator into the garage where the tenet's cars have assigned spots.

"No, we don't Mom, we just don't want you to be upset," Chase explains.

"I won't be upset, let's just go get Fulton and get this over with, ok?" I say as we reach spot thirty-seven, and the black Jeep Cherokee I bought last year. The boys dump their hockey bags in the trunk as I get in the driver's seat. I'm now very appreciative of the fact I have this car and not the old junkie blue Honda I had a year and a half ago. I don't want to appear broke, even though we were for a while.

All my money was spent on the kids. Their clothes, hockey gear, food, and whatever else they needed, that's where my money went. So a nice, new car was put on hold until I had saved up enough money through a few years.

Fulton's place is only a few minutes from ours so it didn't take very long to get there. He was waiting outside when we pulled up. Jack got out of the front seat and joined Chase in the back and Fulton hopped in the passenger side.

"Hey Uncle Fulton," comes a chorus from the backseat.

"Hi guys, how are you both doing?" Fulton looks in the back and smiles. I glance in the back from the rear view mirror. Both Jack and Chase are smiling.

"We're good," Chase says.

"Yeah. Are you coming to the game later?" Jack asks.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," he said, then turned back to me, "hi, Julie."

"Hi, Fulton," I smile.

"How are you holding up?" he asks me.

"I'm fine," I say with finality. I'm sort of tired of the three of them asking me that. I'll be fine. I will. Really.

"So where are we going?" Fulton asks me.

"Yeah, Ma, where are we going? You haven't told us yet," Chase says.

"Well, we never actually arranged a place to be," I say, "I just sort of know where to be."

I glance back in the mirror, and the boys look alarmed at this utter lack of planning, but Fulton grins, "I know where we're going."

There's a few seconds of silence before Chase can't control himself anymore. "Well, could someone fill us in!? Please!?"

"Relax," Fulton says, leaning back against his sea, "you're mother knows what she's doing."

"Yeah, guys, I know what I'm doing," I echo, passing a very square Buick on the left.

Twenty minutes later I pulled into the parking lot of an old ball field, now covered with weeds. It's obviously not used anymore, but it was when I was in high school here.

I don't know what made me decide to stay in Minnesota. I think it was Connie. "It'll be fun here! You and me will get together all the time!" she'd said when she found out Portman and I were having twins and getting married.

"Yeah, fun," I'd said, then run off to throw up. Morning sickness was not fun.

So I stayed in Minnesota. I have stayed in Minnesota. Connie stayed too, and we got together all the time…at least for a while. Then she married Guy not long I married Portman. Then Guy was drafted into the NHL after college. Then she had a baby. Then Connie, Guy, and their baby moved away to New York to be closer to Guy's team, the New York Islanders.

The letters and e-mails and phone calls were frequent, then less frequent. Now, I talk to Connie once or twice a year. We still send each other Christmas cards, but it's been about seven years since we actually saw each other.

Jack and Chase get out of the car rather quickly and slam the doors. I set the parking break, take off my seatbelt, lean back against the headrest of my seat, and close my eyes.

"Are you alright?" Fulton asks.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I say, feeling rather nauseous.

"Let's go, then," he says, opening the door. I try to move, but can't. If I move, I might throw up. "Come on, Julie, we have to get out of the car," Fulton presses.

"I…I can't," I whisper, still unable to move and paralyzed with nervous fear.

"What?" he asks.

I look at him and repeat, "I can't."

"Julie," Fulton says, narrowing his eyebrows, "I can't hear you. You'll have to speak up."

"I can't get out of the car," I say in a very shaky voice.

"Why not?

"I'm…I…I'm afraid," I say breathlessly, "I'm…what if he takes them…what if he's brought a woman…what if I'm just not good enough…" I babble mindlessly.

"Oh, Julie. Julie, Julie, Julie," Fulton shook his head. "If he brings a girl, you can pretend I'm your guy. You're good enough, you look great. And if he tries to take them-" he gestures and Jack and Chase who are wandering curiously around the parking lot, "-he won't get them without a fight. It's 1:25, Julie; let's get out of the car."

"I can't…" I murmur.

"Yes, Julie, you can. You set this up, you brought me, and you promised your boys. If you can't get out of the car for you, get out of the car for them."

I don't know what it is about Fulton, but he's always been very persuasive. Taking a deep breath, I agree. "Fine."

"Now, let's go. He isn't here yet, we can all look around, and find a place to sit or something," Fulton says, finally stepping out of his open car door. "Don't worry, Julie, you'll be fine."

I take another deep breath and step out of the car. Fulton walks around and gives me a big hug. "Don't worry, Julie, you'll be fine," he repeats. "Now, let's go find those boys of yours."

Fulton and I wander over to where Jack and Chase were sitting on the old bleachers, talking quietly. They look up as we come over, and smile and wave.

I sit and join them, and Fulton takes a seat next to me.

"So what do you guys think?" Fulton asks. "Excited, or anxious, or what?"

"This is so messed up. You shouldn't be meeting your father at fourteen unless your mom was abused or you were adopted and he just found you," Jack says quickly.

Whatever Fulton was expecting, it wasn't that. He shut up and looked surprised.

"I think what Jack means," Chase says, looking pointedly at Jack, "is that we're a bit confused. Why now? What's so suddenly fascinating about us now? He hasn't shown his face in twelve years. What's so special about us lately?"

"Maybe he misses you," I say quietly.

"He never really knew us," Jack says.

"He knew you, guys though, you Uncle Fulton, and you too, Ma," Chase says.

"Well, obviously he knew Mom," Jack rolls his eyes, and then his eyes widened. Chase's eyes widened too. Both my sons put two and two together at exactly the same time. "Hey, Ma," Jack says, "maybe he misses you."

"I doubt it," I say quietly, not wanting to think about it.

"Well I think we're about to find out," Fulton says, nodding towards a black Honda that pulls into the lot across from my car.

I watch the car stop, and check my watch. 1:35. My boys look up, eyes narrowed, and watch the figure moving in the car.

The car turns off, and a dark haired man of about 6'3 steps out. Broad shouldered and muscular, the same way I remember him, with a leather jacket, white t-shirt, and baggy blue jeans. I feel my breath catch in my chest as I set my eyes on Dean Portman for the first time in twelve years.