My apologies for the lateness in posting this chapter! Keeping up weekly updates is more challenging that I anticipated now that I'm back at school (best laid plans, etc. etc.). But I DO appreciate you all for staying with me on this! Your lovely reviews and messages keep me motivated to forge ahead and carve out time for writing.

Chapter 15

The next morning it was Lisbon's turn to wake up first.

The sun was far from up, but as her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room she could just make out the outline of the sleeping man lying next to her and the peaceful expression that was spread across his face.

As she watched his chest rise and fall steadily, she marveled at the fact that he was asleep at all considering how hyped up he had been the night before. They had made love in front of the fire, fueled by the exuberance and euphoria they were both feeling in light of their momentous talk. Afterwards, when they had eventually found their way to her bedroom upstairs, it didn't take long before she drifted off to sleep, the giddy excitement she had felt during their conversation having been replaced by an unexpected sense of calm and contentment. As crazy as the whole thing would have seemed to her a month ago- hell, even just a few days ago, she thought to herself almost disbelievingly- here they were. They were moving forward, making plans together. And it wasn't scary. It didn't make her want to kick him to the curb unceremoniously or bolt in her usual preemptive fashion whenever a relationship got too serious. Instead, she realized as she gazed over at him, all she felt was an overwhelming feeling of certainty and hope. She wanted to take this chance and put her trust in him. She was in uncharted waters, but she wasn't afraid.

She slipped out from under the quilt and padded to the bathroom down the hall where she quickly showered and dressed knowing there wasn't much time before she had to leave to get the café ready to open in a few hours. By the time she returned to the bedroom, though, the bed was empty, and she followed the telltale sounds coming from downstairs of cupboard doors opening and closing. She crept down the stairs and found Jane in the dimly lit kitchen, standing barefoot in front of the stove, half dressed in his light gray dress pants and unbuttoned shirt. He was clearly in the early stages of cooking breakfast, sprinkling chopped red peppers onto the top of eggs in the cast iron skillet and humming tunelessly as he closed up the carton that lay on the counter nearby.

"Making yourself at home, I see," she greeted him from the doorway with the quirk of her lips. He turned towards her and smiled tenderly, his tired-looking eyes brightening at the sight of her. She made her way over to him and reached out, encircling his waist and sliding her hands under his shirt so she could feel his smooth bare skin underneath her palms. He leaned into the soft kisses she placed on his neck, as he continued focusing on the task in front of him, stirring the eggs carefully with a flat-edged spoon.

She planted a trail of quick kisses on his chest and shoulder before tilting her head back and looking up at him.

"I didn't wake you, did I?" she asked softly.

"No, not really. I just noticed you were up and thought I'd make myself useful," he replied as he continued to stir.

She regarded his swift, skilled movements with approval and breathed in the savory smell of the eggs and sweet peppers. "You're setting a dangerous precedent, you know- this is the second day in a row you've made me breakfast."

"Well, it's my pleasure," he replied with a warm smile. "Just one of the ways I plan to make my self indispensable to you," he added wickedly with the waggle of his brow. "I was actually amazed to find eggs in that fridge of yours that weren't expired, considering the fact that all you usually have for breakfast is a measly piece of fruit that you nibble on while walking down the hill on your way to work."

"How did you know-"

"Fruit bowl," he responded simply, nodding towards center of the kitchen island, and she sighed and shook her head in mild annoyance. These Sherlock-like tendencies of his were going to take some getting used to, especially since she got the feeling they put her at a distinct disadvantage somehow. Even though she considered herself to be a more than competent detective, highly skilled and as quick and observant as any cop she had ever worked with, the skills Jane possessed were clearly in a whole other league.

She leaned up against the counter and watched him as he worked. He was clearly at ease in the kitchen, unlike herself whose meals at home were usually of the Chinese take-out or "add water and stir" variety. This was definitely something she could get used to.

"So, how long do I have to feed you before you rush out of here?" Jane interrupted her thoughts.

"Oh, I think I can manage about five or ten minutes," she answered, hopping up onto a stool by the island, where she noticed he had already poured two glasses of juice for them.

"Perfect, you'll need a little time to savor this" he replied assuredly. He folded and flipped the eggs once more, before scooping them onto plates he pulled out of the cabinets for them. He grabbed forks from the dish rack in the sink and sat down opposite her.

"So, what are your plans for the day?" Teresa asked after swallowing a forkful of what were probably the finest eggs she had ever eaten in her life.

"I've got a couple of clients coming in for appointments this afternoon," he shrugged indifferently, then paused before adding, "but the number one order of business for me today is to call my landlord and give him my notice, let him know I'll be closing up shop at the end of the month." He grinned sweetly, which she returned with raised eyebrows and the slow nod of her head. Wow, they were really doing this, she thought.

As if reading her mind once again, he chuckled. "Yes, this is actually happening, Teresa…" he took a swig of juice from his glass. He was still smiling, but there was a tinge of apprehension in eyes. "You're not having second thoughts, are you?"

"No, not at all," her smile broke into a nervous laugh. "It's just a little… crazy, don't you think? What we're doing here? I mean, a few months ago we didn't even know each other!"

"That's true," he conceded with the cock of his head before leaning forward a bit on his elbows. "But I think I knew deep down from the day we met that we'd end up somewhere right about here at some point."

"Oh, really?" she scoffed at his brazen confidence.

"Sure. The moment I first saw you and those beguiling emerald eyes at the café, I was a goner; I didn't have a chance," he replied. His tone was breezy, but at the same time sincere and surprisingly affectionate. He reached over and took her hand, grazing the tips of his fingers of her knuckles. "I knew you were trouble right away, especially with that smart, sassy mouth of yours."

"Um, hello pot, have you met kettle?" she shot back incredulously.

"Yep, there it," he chirped. "Exactly what I'm talking about."

She made a half-hearted attempt to jerk her hand away, but he quickly took hold and brought it to his lips, placing a lingering kiss on her wrist. She felt her pulse quicken against his skin; he held her softening expression for a moment before releasing her hand. All she could do was shake her head and roll her eyes slightly before turning her attention back toward the plate in front of her.

Yeah, she sighed to herself. She was a goner, too.

xxxxx

It was an unseasonably cool afternoon just a week later. Jane sat on the bench in front of his store reading about beehive construction from a 'how to' manual he had just purchased from Cho earlier in the day. Beekeeping was the most recent addition on his ever-expanding list of potential professions, a list that included a wide array of jobs ranging from white color (hypnotherapist and jury consultant were amongst the contenders) to blue (carpenter, forest ranger, and now, beekeeper). On any given day his nimble mind was constantly spinning a mile a minute; now with the task of deciding what it was that he wanted to do with his life, he felt especially scatterbrained.

The one thing he felt confident in, however, was that whatever idea he settled on from the infinite possibilities racing through his head, Teresa would be there in his corner, no matter how harebrained or unlikely his plans might seem to her. Sure she had already engaged in some gentle teasing about this latest idea ("What the hell do you know about bees, Jane?") but at the same time she seemed intrigued by the prospect and encouraged him to pursue whatever felt right. She had his back, and he felt emboldened by her confidence in him.

He was busy examining diagrams and specifications of various hive designs in the book when he noticed a familiar face walking down the sidewalk towards him.

May Nelson.

He nodded and stood as she came closer, greeting her with his usual sunny smile. But it only served to mask the growing feeling of trepidation that was sinking into his stomach like a stone. The conversation he was about to have with her was one he knew was necessary, but would be painful nonetheless.

"Patrick," she addressed him with a soft smile and quick embrace. The emotional connection she felt with him, no doubt brought on by their last meeting, clearly had not waned since they had last seen each other more than a week ago.

"Hello, May," he began kindly. "Please, come inside."

He ushered her into the small shop with his outstretched arm and the two of them seated themselves on the chairs in the front of the room by the window. She set her purse down on the cushion next to her and looked directly at him with serious gray eyes.

"I just got back into town last night, and I wanted to come see you right away," she stated unwaveringly. "I'm ready. I want us to schedule that communication session, to try and find Matthew. I want to do it as soon as you have the time."

Jane breathed in deeply. "I'm sorry, May. I'm afraid that won't be possible…" He glanced down to his lap in a cowardly fashion then returned his eyes to hers. "You see, I'm leaving Cannon River in a few weeks. I'm closing up the shop and moving to Portland."

"Oh, I didn't realize…" she replied haltingly.

"Well, it was something that was just decided a few days ago."

"You must be incredibly busy, then," she responded softly, clearly dejected but trying to comprehend the full meaning of what he was saying. She sat quietly for a second with a pensive look on her face. Then, as if an idea was suddenly occurring to her, her expression brightened and she spoke again excitedly.

"You know, Patrick, Portland isn't that far away, just a few hours drive. I... go into the city all the time, a few times every month for errands or work. Maybe, once you move and get settled, we could meet there."

Her voice was filled with such hope and certainty Jane could barely force himself to look directly at her. He shook his head solemnly. "I'm sorry, May. I don't have any hope or expectation of being able to contact your son, whether we tried here or there. I thought I could…" he swallowed hard, "but I can't."

"But you already did!" May exclaimed almost desperately. "At the house- you saw him, or the memory of him, whatever that was. You were so close to finding him- I know it."

"No…" he interjected weakly.

"Yes, I could feel it happening. He was there."

"He'll always be there with you, May," he began gently. "The memories you have of him, the love that you gave him his entire life, the love he had for you. That was real; it is real. And I sincerely felt that when I was in your home last week."

"Please, Patrick. I know this must be difficult for you. This gift of yours, it must feel like a terrible burden and maybe you're worried about disappointing me if you can't contact him again…"

Patrick couldn't bear to hear anymore and cut her off abruptly. "No, it's not that at all, May. You… you need to hear me when I say this." He leaned forward in his chair and looked at her gravely. His voice was on the verge of breaking, but he managed to hold it steady. "I cannot give you what you want, this hope that you're looking for…I don't have that to offer you. I honestly wish I did, because the pain of what you're going through- well, it must be excruciating. I can't even fathom it."

May averted her eyes, blinking away tears that were pooling in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, May. I truly am."

They sat in silence for what felt like forever. Then, with the swipe of her hand across her tearstained face, she met his eyes bravely. "Well, thank you, Patrick. I am… deeply disappointed. But I appreciate your honesty."

He almost laughed at the irony of her sentiments, but instead just nodded and reached over to shake her hand goodbye.

"Good luck to you in Portland," she said, managing her best feeble smile.

"Thank you, and I wish you all the best as well."

They released hands, and with one final affectionate tap on his forearm, May stood up silently and exited the shop.

xxxxxx

A few hours later, Jane was closing up for the day. Aside from his meeting with May, the afternoon had been entirely uneventful, and with that difficult encounter behind him, he could now focus his attention on the evening ahead. Teresa would soon be coming over with her car to take him out to the campground where they would be enjoying yet another dinner with Sam and Pete (their third in the last few weeks).

When she arrived just after four o'clock, Teresa tapped cautiously on the window. After he let her in, he noticed her linger by the doorway as he closed the blinds and turned out the lights. She scanned the room curiously, eyeing the trickling fountain, Zen rock garden and the rest of the New Age-y décor that adorned the space.

"You've never actually been in here before, have you?" he asked with a grin.

"Nope."

"Never dared to enter my 'den of inequities'?"

"No, I haven't, but better late than never, huh?" she replied on a laugh, picking up one of his brochures from the rack on the table next to her. She flipped through it idly for a few moments before folding it in half and stuffing it in her jacket pocket.

"So, what are you going to do with all this stuff when you leave?" she asked as she examined a shelf of geodes and crystals he had for sale, now with red tag discounts.

"Oh, I'll probably just donate everything to the thrift store down the street, although I suppose I could leave it here for the next fake psychic that might move in." Lisbon chuckled lightly as he grabbed his beekeeping book off the desk and fished his keys out of his pocket.

"Ah, so you did buy the book!" she smiled

"I did indeed. And, in my reading so far I have come to the conclusion that you have seriously underestimated the complex nature of these fascinating creatures."

"Oh really?" she folded her arms in front of herself and eyed him skeptically.

"Yes. Did you know that the queen of a hive can lay up to 1,500 eggs in a single day? Or that the worker bees usually drop dead of exhaustion just after six weeks of work?"

Lisbon openly scoffed while they stepped outside and he locked the door behind them. "Oh, come on! Now you're just making stuff up to prove a point."

"No, I'm serious! I read that on page 23. I'll show you when we get to the car."

"I'm looking forward to it," she responded dryly.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, placed a quick kiss in the waves of her hair, and the two of them began ambling down the sidewalk towards her SUV parked around the corner.

They chatted animatedly all the way to her car, so wrapped up in each other and their spirited conversation that they failed to notice the pair of dark, seething eyes watching them from across the street.

Erica Flynn was not happy with what she saw.

Yeah, a tiny bit of angst ahead- nothing too overwrought, I hope. Let me know your thoughts!