Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Rabb Residence

San Diego, California

21: 06 HRS

"You bought her a gun?" Harm leans against the kitchen counter, his legs crossed at the ankles, looking at his wife over the rim of a coffee cup. "Do you know how many creeps take guns away from girls like her and shoot them with their own weapon?"

Rolling her eyes, Mac nudges him out of the way because he's standing in front of the dishwasher and asks a question of her own. "Do you have any idea what it's like to be a twenty-something year-old girl on a college campus?" She drops plates into the dishwasher. "Do you have any idea how many sexual assaults occur on college campuses every year?"

"No, I don't. But Mac, there must be a better solution."

"Do you remember yourself at 20 years old?"

"Of course."

"Some girl told you to back off, you probably didn't like it, but you did it. Right?"

"Yes."

She touches his face gently. "Squid, not all guys are like you! Twenty-year-old guys who are away from home for the first time; hopped up on beer and pizza and hormones… Most of them don't like the word 'no.' At least not most of the ones I encountered at that age. Some of them have never even heard the word 'no'. It's a completely foreign concept. Some of them are just jackasses. A few of them are monsters." She closes the door on the dishwasher and sets the wash cycle. "She's not an airhead, Harm. She's more than capable of being responsible for a gun, and she is going to encounter each of these types of men in her lifetime, whether we like it or not."

He grimaces. "Mac, I know she's not an airhead."

"So, stop looking at me like all I did was hand her a gun and walk away. You know me better than that. She was 18. She was off to college. I bought her a gun, a cleaning kit, ammunition, and a gun safe. Then I went and spent 10 days with her, teaching her how to use all of it. I signed her up at the local shooting range. I told her if she didn't go practice at least twice a month, I would take it away from her, and I made her take a self-defense class so that a loaded weapon wouldn't be her only means of self-protection. We've talked about avoiding high-risk behavior or questionable locations. We've talked about how important it is when she's in a public place to stay observant and to never leave her drink unattended. I can preach about moderation with alcohol, or other substances. I cannot be with her all the time… And I shouldn't."

"Of course not. That would mess her up."

"That would mess anybody up, Harm. She's 5 foot 2 inches tall. She's 127 pounds of pretty… And she's not ten anymore!"

"I've noticed." Harm coughs drolly.

"So has every other male who has crossed her path. She used to be a scared, neglected kid who repelled people with her occasionally obnoxious behavior. Now, she draws people in. People want to get close to her. Her friends just want to pick her up and cuddle her. Henry does do that! I've seen him throw her over his shoulder and walk around with her like she weighs 10 pounds. He'd sooner chew off both his own hands than use one of them to hurt her, but Henry is not the only guy in her life. What happens when she meets one who has a problem with the word 'no? What happens when somebody a foot taller, and 50 pounds heavier than her thinks he can just bully her into giving him what he wants? I hope that Glock stays in the gun safe, not needed for the next 60 years. I hope she never needs it… But if she does…"

Harm sighs heavily.

"And, you'd better prepare yourself. The day will come when both Laura and Shannon are out there on their own too, and I'm telling you now, I'll be having the same conversations with them, teaching them the same things before I send them off to any college campus… Or hey, even just out the front door to ride in cars with boys."

Harm groans as though he needs to have a bad tooth pulled.

"Uh huh, I take that sound to mean you remember riding in cars with girls. Remember the things you got up to in the back seats of those cars?"

His laughter is humorless. "I don't think I had quite as much fun as you seem to be imagining, Mac. When you're as tall as me, the backseat of most cars is a little cramped. Especially when you're back there with somebody else."

She giggles. "Didn't stop you though, did it?"

"No. No, it didn't. Can't we just lock them in their bedrooms until their 30?"

"No, we can't."

"Oh, come on, Mom, why not?

"First, it's not natural. Second, holding them hostage won't stop them from growing up, or teach them how to deal with any of this. Third, they will hate you, and fourth, not all of it happens when you're 18 and drunk. They aren't all 20 years old and stupid. Sometimes you're 36, supposed to be capable of recognizing and avoiding bad situations. Sometimes he's 42, reasonably intelligent, and he knows better than to treat a woman that way, but the moment comes, the blood leaves his brain and rushes to other parts of his body, taking his common sense with it. You tell him not to touch you. So, he makes a total ass of himself, and he makes you really uncomfortable. Plus, a little scared… and then you get royally pissed off about the fact that you've just been made uncomfortable and scared. I hate to have to tell you this, Flyboy, but we're going to have to teach them how to deal with these sorts of things."

Harm glances first, toward the nursery door, where his toddlers sleep, and then his eyes slide toward the ceiling, when Chloe is heard laughing loud and free from inside their guest bedroom. "They are all fine at the moment, and apparently Laura has tickled Chloe's funny bone. In a few minutes, we should go find out how, but just now, I'm a little more concerned about my wife. That sounds frighteningly like personal experience, Mac."

She pokes him in the ribs and tucks herself into his arms. "Your wife is perfectly safe at this moment, too."

He rests his chin on top of her head, sets his coffee cup in the sink, and tightens his embrace. Lowering his voice, he asks quietly, "But there was a time you weren't?"

She unconsciously matches his tone. "Nothing unforgivable happened… But I've had a few bad moments in life that could've been a lot worse. Sometimes, even being a marine with a tempestuous disposition is not enough to keep a man from making an utter fool of himself. Sometimes a woman still has to threaten him with serious blood loss before he'll stomp out the front door, growling, 'Fine, call me when you come to your senses!'… Like it's her fault he decided not to listen when she said, "Don't touch me!"

Harm raises an eyebrow and counts backward in his head. "Thirty-six, huh?"

"Yeah."

"The next time I see Webb, do I need to put his lights out?"

She sighs tiredly and whispers, "Please, don't do that. Not that he didn't deserve it at the time, but you and I have enough to deal with just managing what goes on inside this house, and anyway, if you did do it, I sincerely doubt he would know why. I doubt he remembers it. He was more than halfway into a bottle of single malt at the time."

Harm grunts in displeasure. "Not the night before you came to work with that bandage?"

She lifts her head and looks up at him. "What bandage?"

"Your hand. You told me you broke a glass."

"Oh, that?" She squints. "God, Harm, you remember that?"

"You were hurt… And you didn't wanna talk about it… Which worried me."

Mac pushes a breath of air out slowly. "No, those were two different nights. The broken glass was more about my temper than his. In fact, he'd already gone by the time I threw it."

Harm scowls. "He had you throwing things when he wasn't even there to see it?"

She shrugs and returns her head to his chest, lowering her voice further still. "I was not cut out to be the girlfriend of a CIA operative. The only thing he did better than show up unexpectedly, was disappear. Every time he disappeared, I felt neglected, ignored, or abandoned. He routinely dredged up all the old feelings associated with my mom vanishing from my life the way she did. It was not a good frame of mind for me to be in. I opened my front door one night; he was standing there with a bottle in his hand. I didn't even know he was in town. I hadn't seen him in weeks - maybe a month. I should've called him a cab. I should've told him to go home, but I didn't. I let him in. I was mad at him and not in the mood for a reunion, which was what he had in mind. A short time later, he got angry because I wasn't feeling receptive. Eventually, he stomped out, but not before he forgot to keep his hands to himself. I wish that had been the worst of our encounters. On a different night, he breezed in, and less than two hours later, he breezed out again, without much of an explanation, headed for parts unknown. He left his drink. I picked it up. I was mad at him as usual, but I got even madder at myself when I realized I was standing there thinking about downing what was left in his glass."

"Mac…" Harm gasps quietly, something inside his chest hurting.

"Harm, I threw it against the wall. And then, I had to cover my face when the shattered glass rebounded. I think I probably broke the glass even before I threw it. I… Well, I guess I sort of had a death grip on it."

He closes his eyes, breathes deeply, and tightens his hold on her. "And then?"

"I went to the bathroom, looking for a pair of tweezers to pick the glass out of my hand. I bandaged it, and then I went to the bedroom closet, grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, got dressed in my living room, and left the apartment. I spent the night in a motel room because I couldn't stand the sight of scotch dripping down the bedroom wall, or the broken glass, and I didn't trust myself to pour what was left in his forgotten bottle down the drain. I figured it was time to get the hell out of there. I had a go-bag in my car. The next morning, I checked out of the motel, and came to work. By the end of the day, I wasn't feeling quite so wobbly. I'd started to get my bearings back. I went home and cleaned up the mess, determined to move on, and thanking the heavens I hadn't blown my sobriety. I lost my footing for a time, Harm. I slipped, but I didn't fall."

He kisses the top of her head. "Why didn't you call me? I would've cleaned up the mess. You didn't have to do that by yourself."

Mac groans. "I'm the one who made the mess, Harm."

"Doesn't matter, Mac. You're in trouble, you call me!"

"At first, I was just too mad at myself. Later, I was embarrassed. By the time I made it to work the next day, I didn't want anybody to know, least of all you."

"You didn't want me to know that you hadn't taken a drink?"

"I was ashamed of myself for how close I came, Harm. I didn't want you to be."

Stunned, he cups her face in his hands and whispers, "Mac… I love you."

A wisp of dry laughter escapes her. "Yeah, I know. I think maybe I even knew then, but you and I were in such a weird place. I was scared of making things worse for us. And then, a year later, I did."

Grimacing, he hisses, "That was not your fault, Jarhead!"

"Well, it wasn't all your fault either. You had help."

He grunts. "Tell you what? I'll cut myself some slack if you will do the same for yourself."

"Okay." Pouting, she nods and snuggles closer. "But… Let's not forget and somehow wind up back there again. I didn't like that place, Harm. That place sucked. Let's stay here. This place is better."

Chuckling softly, he dips his head for a kiss and whispers, "Deal!"

Also at 21:06 HRS

Fresh from the shower and clad in a white pinstriped baseball jersey with the Vermont Lake monster logo on it, Chloe leaves the upstairs bathroom in the process of towel-drying her hair and steps across the hall. Nudging the door of the guest bedroom closed with the toes of her left foot, she tosses the damp towel over the rail at the foot of the bed and comes up short when she encounters an unexpected visitor wearing vibrant seersucker blue and yellow checkered pajamas. Smiling, she says brightly, "Hey, little sister."

Perched on the edge of the guest bed in the company of her dog, Laura smiles no less brightly. "Hey Chloe!"

"What'cha doing in here?"

"Waiting for you?"

Chloe pats Candy's head, pausing to rub her ears enthusiastically. "How come?"

"'Cause I have to. Aunt Mac says it's not nice to snoop."

Chloe smiles. "I appreciate you not snooping. If you were snooping, what would you be snooping for?"

"Pretty pictures."

"What makes you think I have any pretty pictures to show you? Maybe I'm fresh out of pretty pictures."

Giggling, Laura shakes her head emphatically. "Na-uh Chloe, no way!"

"You don't think that's possible?"

Laura shakes her head twice as hard. "You've got three cameras. You came to do a show at grandma's gallery. Plus, you really like to take pictures! I saw you putting film in the refrigerator earlier. You drove all the way across this whole country. You think I'm gonna believe you didn't take not even one picture? I'm not stupid, Chloe!"

Reaching out to pat the kid's knee affectionately on the way to her luggage, Chloe chuckles. "Kid, you're a long, long way from not stupid. You're so far removed from stupid, it's mind-boggling! What time is bedtime?"

Laura wrinkles her nose. "That would be… Like… Now. 'Cause, I got school tomorrow. I'll go soon, but I wanna see pretty pictures first."

Lifting a turquoise and orange colored duffel from the top of her matching wheeled suitcase, Chloe joins Laura on the bed. After she extracts a large case from inside the duffel, she drops the duffel gently to the floor, and unzips the nylon case deep enough to hold two shoe boxes stacked on top of one another. The box she removes is stuffed full to bursting with multiple packets o photographic prints and their corresponding negatives. Selecting the first packet of 36 prints, she plops it into Laura's lap. "You can look at those tonight. They are the best ones. I went through them all last night in my motel room and pulled those out of the lot. I've still got about 100 more that haven't even been developed yet. If you want to look at them all, you'll have to wait for the weekend."

Laura squeaks with excitement as she lifts the flap on the envelope. The very first picture was taken purely for the purposes of documentation. It's a photograph of a white road sign with blue lettering emblazoned above the shape of the state of Vermont, and it clearly announces, "Road trip! Now Leaving Vermont!"

Holding it up, Laura giggles. "The beginning!"

Chloe picks her up and settles her across her lap. "Best place to start! You're gonna have to help me pick out the very best ones to send back home to my Gram. We'll go through the lot after I get them all developed."

Laura nods. "Okay, I will." Her dark eyes go wide in response to a photograph of an absolutely colossal old live oak tree with its limbs bent at intriguing angles in the middle of a panoramic green field at sunset. "Man, this tree looks huge!"

"It is! The picture doesn't do it justice. I stopped on the side of the road just to take that picture. That thing would make a high-rise condominium for a massive family of squirrels. It was gorgeous, but even with the leaves dappled in sunlight, there was also something about it that made me feel really lonely; just standing there in the middle of a field all by itself."

It takes Laura less than a second to decide, "It needs a rope swing."

Chloe raises an eyebrow. "A rope swing?"

"The tree makes you feel lonely because the tree is lonely. But the tree is more than big enough. It's big enough for three swings. If somebody put one out there, kids would come and play. Then, the tree wouldn't be lonely anymore."

Chloe squeezes her and kisses the top of her head. "Laura, the way you see things is beautiful."

Laura shrugs. Fanning the photographs like a deck of cards, she says, "So is your way." She flips to the next picture and squints. "It's Abraham Lincoln!"

"It's the Lincoln memorial in Washington, DC. My first overnight stop."

"How much you think that thing weighs?"

"According to what I read, 76,000,000 pounds or 38,000 tons, but I think that's the entire monument, not Mr. Lincoln in his chair. It's made of stone. It takes up slightly more than 109 acres."

Laura looks stricken.

"It took eight years to build, from 1914 to 1922. And it was Henry Bacon's last project. He died two years after it was done."

Laura shakes her head. "His battery just ran down."

Chloe chuckles. "His battery ran down, huh?"

Laura jabs a finger at the photograph." Well, yeah! He built all that in only eight years. He was exhausted!"

Some other people carved the actual statue; a sculptor named Daniel French, along with the Piccirilli brothers. That part took four years all by itself. If Lincoln were standing, instead of seated, he'd be 28 feet tall."

Did you crawl up there and sit in his lap?"

Chloe laughs aloud. "No."

Laura scowls. "Why not? I would have!"

Chloe has to stop laughing before she can say, "First, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't get to. I don't think you could get close enough to do it. Someone would come along and run you off. Even if you could get close enough, his knees were several feet above my head. His pedestal is ten feet tall all by itself. From his feet to the top of his head is another 19 feet. You would need climbing gear just to get up there, kiddo."

Laura glances at, but breezes through pictures of reflecting pools, the capitol building, and the Washington monument. She's seen pictures of those on the news. Coming to a photograph of the Vietnam Memorial Wall, she frowns thoughtfully. "What's this?"

Chloe squints in surprise. "That's the wall. In DC. Well, it's one section of the wall. Chloe flips to the next picture. Here, a wider shot. But you have to stand back quite a ways. Visitors taking personal photographs are allowed, but it's not possible to get a really good picture of the whole thing without a permit because you'd need some pretty serious equipment."

Laura whispers. "This is where Uncle Harm goes?"

Chloe nods. "If what Mac has told me is still true, probably every time he gets to visit DC."

"I went to DC last year when Noah was born."

"I know."

"We didn't go then."

"I wouldn't worry about that. You may not have been with him at the time, but I'm absolutely certain Harm stopped by at some point last year while you were in DC."

"How do you know that?"

"It's not such a big mystery." Chloe says softly. "Harm goes there to remember his dad, to kind of be with him for a little while. His baby boy had just been born. It's the kind of thing most people want a share with their dads."

Laura eyes the photos quietly for a time and then whispers, "All these names? All these people?" Her slender shoulders slump. "You think every person whose name is on this wall has a grownup kid that comes to visit them?"

"That's not likely. A lot of the names on that wall were the names of boys, a lot of them younger than me. But you're not wrong either, a lot of grownup kids visit that wall every day, Laura. A lot of them are older than your Uncle Harm."

Laura shakes herself and sets the photos aside, "Makes me sad."

"Your uncle was just a little guy the last time he saw his dad. Younger than you are now. About the age you were when you first met him."

Laura gently smacks the arm around her middle. "Chloe, don't tell me that! That makes my heart hurt! Are you trying to make me cry?"

"No, I'm sorry. "Here, next picture."

Laura flips through a multitude of pictures along Chloe's route, some of them pretty, some of them serious or intense while others are silly or odd. When she comes to a giant pink golf ball next to a golf club that is taller than her uncle, she laughs. "Where was this!"

"It was outside some little knockabout town in Tennessee. I got off the interstate because I needed a bathroom break in the worst way. At the previous stop, my-silly-self bought a 64-ounce soda. An hour later I was desperate. This town, it only had one stoplight and… There they were, big as life! Right there on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere! When I first saw them, I had to squint. I thought I was seeing things. Then I had the irrepressible urge to shout, "Fore!"

"Huh? What's that mean?"

Chloe raises an eyebrow and takes a guess at the unknown word. "What? Irrepressible?"

Laura nods emphatically.

"It's something is irrepressible, that means you can't stop it from happening."

"Oh, okay. Did you… Shout?"

"Yep… And then I laughed at myself."

Laura flips through a couple more pictures before she smiles at the image of an unfamiliar face wearing a quizzical smirk. "Hey, who is this?"

"That would be a cop, Laura."

Lifting her chin, Laura rests the crown of her head against Chloe's chest and scowls at her. "I know that, Chloe! I can tell by the badge pinned to his shirt."

"His name is Jay Robicheaux. I met him in Louisiana."

"Chloe… Did you get in trouble in Louisiana?"

Chloe shakes her head. "I ran out of gas in Louisiana."

Laura covers her face and shakes her head. "Chloe! The car won't go without gas!"

Chloe throws back her head and laughs loudly. "Boy, you're telling me! The worst part is, I thought I was in Texas!"

Laura's scowl is comical. "What?"

"Well, I mapped out my trip ahead of time, every night at my motel, no matter where I was, I would double check my route for the next day. I was supposed to go from Arkansas to Texas. And, I did. Not more than 20 minutes after I crossed into Texas, I smelled barbecue, and suddenly I was starving. By the way, Texas has the best food. And those people are proud of their food! I swear, it took me 18 hours to drive across the state of Texas - it's big, really big - and I think I ate for 17 of them."

"Na uh! You're just joshing me."

Chloe laughs, "No, I'm not. I gained five pounds crossing the state of Texas. My first stop was this little place that looked like a shack about to fall in on itself. I got a brisket sandwich that was to die for, a bag of chips, and a container of the best coleslaw I've ever eaten in my life! I got back in the car, got back on the road, and 30 minutes later when I was finally finished munching, I realized I had no idea where I was."

Laura squints. "You told Uncle Harm you have GPS."

She nods. "I do."

"Aunt Mac's GPS talks. And if you take a wrong turn, she talks a lot."

"Yeah, I know. That's why I turned it off about 100 miles before Texas. She was annoying me." Chloe imitates the disembodied voice of GPS narration. "Turn left in ¼ mile. Turn left now. Turn left. You have missed your turn. One moment, please. Re-routing."

"Aren't you scared of getting lost?"

"Naa! I find the most interesting things when I'm lost. That's when I have the most fun, and the best part is after you get 'lost', you get 'found' again. Do it enough times, and eventually, you'll find yourself saying, 'Hey wait! I know where I am, I've been lost here before!"

Laura giggles. "But, how do you get found again, Chloe?

"Keep driving."

"But you don't know where you are…"

"Doesn't matter. Just drive the car. No matter what, just keep going, kid."

"Okay, so you ate barbecue, and then what?"

"I was putting food wrappers back in the sack. I looked away from the road for just a second, and when I looked back up, I was passing a road sign that said, 'Welcome to Louisiana.' I braked hard, shook my head, and backed up. Then I sat there for a second, just staring at the sign. Wait a minute, says I. What happened to Texas?"

"You took a wrong turn while you were eating. A big one!"

"I sure did! But in my defense, the sun was shining, the food was scrumptious, and the tunes coming from the car radio were excellent. I was busy stuffing my face and car dancing."

Laura nods. "Okay, so you turned around and went back to Texas, I hope."

"Well, that was my plan. I was busy checking GPS to see where I'd gone wrong and looking for a place to turn around. That's when Joy started sputtering. Her tank had run dry. No gas!"

Laura is silent and wide-eyed, and makes a face that says, "Eeke!"

I checked my maps, I checked my trip itinerary, I grabbed my phone, the gas can from the back of the car, stuck my gun in the waistband of my jeans, put on my emergency lights, locked the car, and started walking. Into Louisiana. Not Texas."

"Why?"

"If you have to make a choice, whenever possible, always choose to move forward, not backward."

Laura nods. "Okay, I will. Did you have to walk far?"

"It was probably less than 2 miles to the nearest gas station."

"Yeah, but if the sun was shining, I bet you got hot."

Chloe shrugs. "It was okay. Besides, I needed the walk to burn off all the calories I'd just consumed. I was on my way back to the car with two gallons of gasoline in my can…"

"Only two? Did you wanna run out of gas again?"

"No, of course not, silly goose! However much gas you get, you have to walk back to the car carrying it. That two gallons can get heavy. The trick is to put enough gas in the car to get back to the gas station, and then you can fill up the tank."

Laura pauses to think this through and then nods. "Okay, I got it. Then what? Wait! What does all this have to do with the cop?"

"I was on my way back to the car when he drove past me in his cruiser. He stopped, he waited a second, he backed up, and when he backed up, he went past me again, and then stopped, pulled level, and rolled down the passenger side window. He said, "Chloe Madison?"

Laura squints suspiciously. "He knew your name?"

"Yeah, it gave me a moment's pause too. He must've realized that by the look on my face, because he said, 'I'm thinking you own the blue Mini parked on the shoulder about a mile ahead. I ran its plates a few minutes ago. I was keeping an eye out for somebody on foot."

"Oh, so it was okay."

Then he asks, "You got a permit for that gun you're carrying?"

Laura scowls.

"He saw it twice. When he drove past me the first time - and that's why he backed all the way up and went past me again the second time. He was double checking what he thought he saw on the first pass. Cops do that. It's okay. Habits like that help keep them safe."

Laura shakes her head. "If it was in your waistband, he was probably looking at your butt."

Chloe laughs. "Laura, I'm absolutely certain of that."

"How come?"

"Because 20 minutes later he offered to buy me dinner… But what makes 'you' so sure of that?"

"Are you kidding? Do you know how many guys I've seen look at my mom's butt. They all do it. Even Uncle Harm… Well, not my mom's, but he does look at Aunt Mac. It's okay though. He's not gross about it. He just does it. The guys that look at my mom… They are almost always gross."

Mildly alarmed, Chloe still can't help but chuckle.

"I caught your uncle looking at your aunt one day, years ago. I wasn't much older than you are now. I think he was a little bit embarrassed, but he smiled, and put his finger to his lips. Then he winked at me and walked out of the room."

Laura giggles. "Yep, that's Uncle Harm … So, Officer Robicheaux wanted to know if you had a permit."

"I told him yes. He asked if he could see it. I said, 'It's in the car." He leaned across the console, opened his passenger side door, and said, 'Get in, I'll give you a lift back. I took this picture of him with my cell phone before I got in the car. He raised an eyebrow. I told him I was emailing the picture to a friend of mine. He wanted to know what for, so I smiled and said, 'In case I don't make it back to my car alive."

"Chloe! You said that to him?"

"You bet I did. He laughed and as I was getting in the car, he said, 'Oh, you're not suspicious at all! Not all cops are bad, you know!"

"Yeah, but Chloe, not all cops are good either."

"Funny, that's exactly what I said to him."

"And he asked you to go to dinner anyway?"

"He did. After he drove me back to my car, put the gas in it for me, and waited for me to start it. He said he knew I was on my way somewhere important, because he could tell by my license plate that I was a long way from home, but that if I was willing to hang around until he was off shift, he'd take me out for dinner. I told him that was alright with me, since I was already miles behind my itinerary for the day anyway. He told me to meet him at the state line at 8:00 PM. Then I drove around Louisiana for the rest of the day taking pictures of old antebellum style houses to kill time."

"Aunt who?"

"Antebellum. Ante, meaning before, bellum meaning war. In this case, the word refers to a certain style of architecture that was popular before or around the time of the American Civil War. Here…" Chloe flips through the stack of pictures and lays out several photographs of such homes.

"Oh, pretty! I like the one with all the hanging plants on the porch, it needs to be painted, but I like the shape… The way it looks… better than this one here that has the better paint."

"Me too. This one had screen doors and a porch that wrapped all the way around. There were rocking chairs on the porch, ceiling fans, and two swings. It even had an old potbelly stove in one corner of the porch."

Laura scowls until Chloe finds the appropriate picture and points at the item in question. They were usually used for heating small rooms."

"Chloe, you should've got closer for a better picture."

"I really wanted to… But see the lights through the windows. Somebody was living in this house. I can't just go walking through people's yards, taking pictures of their houses. That would make people uncomfortable. I had to take my photographs from the curb. Here, look at this one. The lady who lives here was outside working in her flower beds when I passed. She was very friendly. She gave me permission." Chloe shows her a photograph of a large plantation-style home with flourishing flower beds set between antique streetlamps and two massive ancient weeping willows.

"Oh, and you did it in black and white too. It's perfect. You should put it in the Halloween show at the gallery… Umm… Can you blow it up… Make it bigger?"

Chloe clicks her tongue against the inside of her cheek. "Not right now. Not if you want it to be worthy of the gallery showing. I'd need a dark room for that. I haven't had time to set one up yet."

"Did you meet him at the state line at eight o'clock?"

"I did. I followed him to a place called The Mill. They had live music, cold beer, grilled shrimp, crawfish, corn on the cob, and spicy hush puppies. I'd never eaten crawfish before."

"Was a good?

"It was a whole lot better than I thought it would be. He had to show me how to shuck the shells first, and he didn't even laugh at me for it. He danced with me too."

"Did he step on your toes?"

"Not once."

"He's cute too."

"Isn't he?"

"Did he kiss you good night?"

Chloe smiles happily. "Nope. But the next morning, when I crossed back over into Texas, he was parked on the line, waiting for me with a cup of coffee and a breakfast sandwich." Chloe reaches down into the duffel bag, and pulls out a paper napkin, offering it to Laura. "He did kiss me goodbye though, right after he gave me this."

Smiling, Laura stares at the napkin. "Is that his phone number?"

"Yes."

"Did you call it."

"No."

"Are you going too."

Chloe wrinkles her nose. "Meh…I don't think so."

"Why not!"

"Well, for one thing, I'm going to live here." Chloe hikes her thumb, pointing at one of the windows in the room. "He's 1700 miles that way, kid! That makes him geographically undesirable… Or at least, unavailable. Second, for that one day, he was perfect. I don't need him to be more than that, and if I got to know him any better, he would probably turn out to be a whole lot less perfect. Why mess with a good thing? I think I'd rather just remember him fondly."

"Okay Chloe, if you say so. I'll look at more pictures tomorrow. C'mon, I gotta go downstairs. I gotta go to bed, but before I do, I'm gonna ask Uncle Harm to build you a dark room!"

"Hey, slow down little sister! Do you even know what I need in a dark room?"

"No… But you do. You can tell him that part yourself."