Author's Notes:

My apologies to all who suffered headaches after reading chapter six. (The most common response I received in the reviews was "now my head hurts.") I'm sending virtual aspirin to all.

I first encountered 'Schroedinger's Cat' in a poem by know-it-all columnist Cecil Adams. His column, The Straight Dope, appears in a number of alternative newspapers, including The City Paper in Washington, DC. If you're curious, you can find a link to his epic poem about ol' Schroedinger on my website: www. geocities. com/ bluemoonalto (delete the spaces).

I want to thank everyone who took the time to post comments and reviews. I have thanked most of you privately, but there were a couple of unsigned reviews and if I missed anybody, I apologize. I do deeply appreciate feedback, as writing can be a very lonely activity.

This is the end of the line, the short epilogue to the story. If you find that your questions have not been sufficiently answered, then I have done my job. That's exactly the situation that our Danny finds himself in: he now has to learn to live with the uncertainty.

A very merry Christmas and a peaceful New Year to all!

Epilogue: Sam

I paused in the doorway of our room just to watch Sam sleep. She was curled up on her side in the middle of the bed, clutching my pillow to her chest. Longing to be fast asleep myself, I wondered whether it would be possible to maneuver into bed without waking her—or whether I should even try, as Sam is definitely not a morning person and I didn't want to disturb her last few minutes of rest before she had to get up and get ready for work. I racked my brain trying to remember whether I had any pressing morning appointments to keep me from hibernating until noon, only to remember after several frustrating minutes that today was Saturday and I could stay in bed as long as I wanted to.

And so could Sam. I smiled.

I sat gingerly on the edge of the bed and started to pull a corner of the covers back, hoping not to disturb her, but she wasn't as deeply asleep as I had thought. Her breath caught, and she sighed as she reached out to poke me in the back. "Is that really you? Or am I dreaming again?"

"I'm the genuine article," I whispered. Sam obligingly scootched back to make some room for me, but not too far. Surrendering my pillow, she draped an arm over me and held me close.

"Standard question," she murmured in my ear.

I couldn't answer right away, as I was yawning so hard I thought my face just might break in half. How had I managed to stay awake so long? The spasm finally passed, and I answered, "I'm fine. I didn't mean to be out all night, honest. And. . . I'm really sorry for bailing out on you guys last night."

"We didn't mean to upset you, honey. That's the last thing any of us wanted to do."

I was astonished. Was she apologizing? I was the one who'd vanished without so much as an 'excuse me,' who left her to fret while I wandered around all night trying to get my head on straight, looking for answers that didn't exist for questions that were better left unasked.

She whispered, almost hesitantly, "You're not angry, are you?"

"Of course I'm not—I just wasn't prepared to deal with it, I guess. You've done this before, haven't you? Just the three of you?"

"Every year," she said, "the weekend closest to April twenty-fourth. The last few, we just talked on the phone. But this anniversary was special, and we couldn't let it pass without a little ceremony." She nuzzled my cheek, then breathed in my ear: "You did it, Danny, don't you see? You beat him. He never existed."

June tenth, I thought, but I kept that thought to myself. Aloud I asked, "How in the world did you manage to get Jazz and Tucker home without me knowing?"

"You've been busy. . . it's not like we deliberately tried to keep you in the dark, but I did think it would be a nice surprise. We never meant to—ahh!" She gasped, a sound that was more startled than distressed. I tensed, instantly alert, but she quickly grinned reassurance and pulled my hand over to rest on her stomach. "Relax, hero. It's just your daughter practicing her Tai-Bo."

"That's my boy." I switched her gender with the ease of long practice. Beneath my hand I could feel the impact of tiny feet as he squirmed and kicked. He will be strong, I thought; she will be feisty. For now, that was all the answer I needed.

And I slept.