During the show last night, I thought about what I wanted to write next.  There are so many aspects that I could spend hours either talking about or writing about, and I had to pick one. (There’s plenty of time, don’t worry I’m sure I’ll write about everything.)

One thing I like about this show is how it constantly challenges me.  Fifteen body mics are a lot to juggle, especially during the scenes with everyone on stage.  And it takes a lot for me to make sure everyone sounds good, no one feedsback, and that no one over powers the others.  And of course, catching all my cues without getting backstage noise is important too.

And now… onto what I actually was going to write about.

When I was 17, I was visiting a school in New York with my mom, we were in a cuban restaurant, my mom ordered a pitcher of sangrias, and let me had some.  A great idea to get your underaged kid a bit tipsy before telling her that you’ve known she was gay since she was like 7, and that you’re okay with it.  Of course, I choked a little bit.  I thought I had hid it better! (Of course I knew I really hadn’t, but I liked to pretend.)

If only most people had this kind of positive experience letting their parents in on what is for most a terrifying secret to carry around.

And here comes the ‘bare’ tie in-

Peter tries desperately to tell his mom about his feelings for Jason, but during their conversation, she doesn’t want to hear it, she doesn’t want to let him break the secret open.  He goes away from the conversation feeling dejected, rejected, but he couldn’t really be further from the truth.

Claire knew her son, she’s always known him, known everything about him, whether she wanted to accept it and make it a part of her public reality or not .  Most parents who pay attention, know this secret about their kid.  They may react positively or negatively, but deep down, they know.  Claire loves Peter, she loves him for who he is, no matter who that is.  Her only hesitation is how everyone else will see her, she doesn’t “want their pity, I just want my son.”  She’s a good mother, she just wasn’t ready to deal with the reality of having a gay son, though she’s had a gay son since he was born.  She just has to own up to it now.

My mother told me that she saw her therapist after she could no longer deny who I was, she told him, “I don’t know how to parent a gay child.”  Her therapist said, “It seems to me that you’ve been doing it for 18 years.”  I was still the same person who she’d given birth to, I was still the same kid she’d raised, nothing intrinsic about who I was had changed.  Looking at it that way gave my mom a sense of peace.  Nothing had changed, and yet everything had.

Claire realizes this at the same time my mom did.  Peter is still Peter, he’s just not lying about anything anymore.  And Claire loves him just as much as she had before.

Like I said, if only more people had such reactions to their coming out.

It does get better.

Spring’- Featuring Charlotte Byrd as Nadia.

It has been six or more years since I have run a musical with more than one or two wireless mics. We have fifteen for ‘bare’. Needles to say it’s keeping me on my toes, or on a high stool without a back.

During last night’s dress rehearsal, I had two mics that would not work right at all. One of which I could get signal through the board and it all looked good on the board, but it wouldn’t come out through the main speakers at all. After changing the pack, the element (microphone), and even the channel on the board in which I had patched it, it still wasn’t working.  The other one, would only work sporadically and it didn’t seem to have any rhyme or reason as to when it would work or wouldn’t.

And to make matters worse, the band’s monitor went out during act two and I have no idea why since I didn’t touch anything at all.  After rehearsal I tried to fix the monitor and only managed to electrocute myself a bit while messing with the connection to make sure it was seated properly.

So the director called the sound equipment rental guy, (he was in tech for another show in Illinois 2 hours away), so they came back at 1:30am to work on the equipment.  I was lucky enough to not have to be there, but I did leave a 2 page note detailing the issues and marked up the equipment that wasn’t working.  I was scared though that they would be calling me to clarify and figure out what’s wrong with my handwriting.

Got a text at 3am from the director, and they had gotten it all fixed and it sounds good.

Yay.

Based on a play of the same name by Frank Wendekind, Spring Awakening follows the story of a group of teenagers in 19th century Germany, through the trials and tribulations of their own sexual awakenings, school, family, and societal expectations.

The show opens with Wendla Bergmann (Elizabeth Judd) dressing at a mirror, examining her newly formed woman’s body, and bemoaning the fact that her mother has given her “no way to handle things” (Mama Who Bore Me). Judd’s voice is entrancing and draws you in to this world where song expresses the things that the characters have no words to explain.

Her mother informs Wendla that she is an aunt for a second time, and Wendla wonders how this sort of thing actually occurs. Wendla’s mother, after much duress and pleading, finally explains that “in order to conceive a child, a woman must love her husband with all she is.” Wendla and her friends (Anna, Thea, Martha and Thea) rock out girl group style with a reprise of Mama Who Bore Me.

Meanwhile the boys are studying their Aeneid, while attempting to save his friend Moritz Steifel (Coby Getzug) from a beating and dressing down for misusing a word in his translation, Melchior Gabor (Christopher Wood) laments the fact that independent thought and exploration are not valued or even allowed in the draconian school system, (All That’s Known). Melchior’s frustration with his limitations is evident, he is not a boy who enjoys being told what to do, what to think, preferring “to trust my own true mind, and to say there’s a way through this” he knows that there is more to learn and more to know than what he’s being told. He wants “the hunger that a child feels for everything they’re shown” because he wants to “name the stars and know their dark returning.” While he continues to express his desire to be free and learn, his fellow students continue their mindless recitation of the beginning of the Aeneid.

Moritz thanks Melchior profusely and explains that the reason he had fallen asleep and thusly made the error in translation was because he was visited by a ‘phantasm’ in his dreams in the form of stockinged legs climbing over the lecture podium. Melchior laughs, explaining that this is not some horrible thing that Moritz is making it out to be, that in fact these type of sticky dreams are normal and that all of their fellow classmates have had them at one point or another. Moritz is still horrified at what he had experienced, reaches into his jacket for his microphone and proclaims that it’s (A Bitch of Living). The song, as with all of the other songs in this show, breaks the illusion that we are in a village in late 19th Century Germany. A Bitch of Living is more akin to a concert with people jumping up and down, stomping their feet and throwing their fists into the air, which is exactly what the boys do. Each of the boys has a certain thing about their life which they proclaim is a part of their Bitch of Living, whether it be insecurity about showering in gym class (Ernst), the despair in knowing that the girl you think is cute won’t give you the time of day (Otto), knowing how to play the game so you can do what you want one day (Hanschen), an attraction to one’s piano teacher (Georg), or the gnawing truth that living in your head makes it possible to “sense[ing] God is dead” (Melchior). None of the boys can believe that this is all that life is, because if it is, life truly is a bitch.

The girls are walking along a river bank and discussing what they’re going to wear to the wedding of one of the older girls in the village. Wendla says she isn’t sure that her mother will let her go at all. The conversation turns into a discussion of the boys their age and which is the most desirable of all, almost all of them agree that Melchior is the dreamiest. The girls are beset with their own set of emotions and hormones, and they daydream about the relationships they wish they could have with the boys (My Junk), the boys add in their own two cents about their own desires and how they deal with their own frustration. This scene is interspersed between the girls on the river bank, Georg with his piano teacher, and Hanschen in the bathroom with a picture of a saint and his best pal.

Moritz visits the Gabor home to fret to Melchior about how the informative essay that Melchi wrote for him makes his sticky dreams worse. Moritz also confides in Melchi his fear that he would not be able to comprehend what a woman would get out of a physical relationship, and is amazed when Melchi tells him what HE believes. Melchi tells him that he just puts himself in her place, but Moritz is not helped by this revelation and runs away as Melchi and the rest of the boys sing “Touch Me” – their thoughts as to how sex would be, both for themselves and as a woman (evidenced by their mimicking of Wendla’s exploration of her body at the beginning of the show.)

Melchior and Wendla’s relationship beyond that of childhood friends is established in “The Word of Your Body.” Despite the fact that they touch only in the most tame of ways, the sexual heat is plain to see. Wendla is woefully ignorant of the possible repercussions of the racing hormones that she is feeling, but on some level she does know it isn’t something she should allow to control her, and she runs away.

Wendla’s friend Martha accidentally reveals that her father beats her when she misbehaves, and that her mother does nothing to stop him. But her words fall short of the full truth of the situation which she elucidates clearly in “The Dark I Know Well” where she reveals that her father is “dreaming on me” a “Truth I can’t tell about the Dark I know well.” She had told her friends that she had run out of the house to escape a beating the night before, but that it was so cold, to which Thea replies, “like poor Ilse, living who knows where with who knows whom.” Ilse joins the song, revealing that she too had a father who was “dreaming on me, me and my beauty” before she fled.

Wendla is horrified to hear that she did not know her friend was so horribly mistreated by her father. She runs into Melchior again and reveals that she had never been beaten, and begs Melchi to do it for her. He says no, she continues to beg, saying that she’s never been touched, never felt… anything. So he relents, picks up a switch and hits her legs lightly, she shouts at him to hit harder, that she can’t feel it. He has her lift her skirts, and he tries again, still lightly. She yells at him again to hit her so she can feel it. He is enraged, beats her fiercely before throwing her onto the ground and almost striking her face with his fists before gathering his senses and running away. Something has awoken within him. He is feeling things that are not something he is sure he can handle. (The Mirror Blue Night)

“there’s nowhere to hide from these bones, from my mind
It’s broken inside – I’m a man and a child
I’m at home with a ghost, who got left in the cold
Who knocks at my peace, with no keys to my soul.”

He’s caught between being a child and being an adult. He has adult feelings that as a child he doesn’t have the necessary restraint to handle correctly. He thinks he knows what he needs, “Who knocks at my peace” but has no way of getting it, “with no keys to my soul.”

Wendla catches up with him in his hay loft where he is hiding in his mind, castigating himself for losing control. She puts the blame on herself, telling him that she felt something for once. Melchior kisses her, and despite her initial hesitance, he convinces her that despite the thought that perhaps it’s a sin, because that’s what they’ve been told, he can’t see why it would be since it makes them feel, and that it’s good. Awkwardly he undoes the top of her dress, revealing her breasts onstage, lays her back in the hay loft, removes his pants and they have sex. Its sweet, their young love juxtaposed with the ensemble’s singing of “I Believe” makes their union more like a religious act than youthful exploration.

Meanwhile Moritz has found out that he has failed out of school, due to some creative grading by the schoolmasters who found him to be a menace to their well ordered school. When Moritz asked his father a hypothetical question of “What would happen if I were to fail?” Herr Steifel slapped him and says, “What are we going to do? How can your mother show her face at church? What will I say at the bank? Thank goodness my father isn’t alive to see this. My son… failed.” Moritz holds back tears, but then writes a letter to Frau Gabor asking for money to travel to America to escape his status as a failure. In “And Then There Were None” Frau Gabor gives Moritz her answer to his letter, she cannot give him the money he asked for, and that despite what happened with his exams, her feelings for him would not change, nor should his relationship with Melchior. She also warns him against what she called his “veiled threat that if escape should not be possible [he] would take [his] own life.” In today’s terms, her response to a suicide threat is to not take it seriously, but in 19th century Germany, suicide was not seen as prevalent as it is in today’s society. Today, Frau Gabor would be calling Frau and Herr Steifel in for a discussion as to their son’s mental status, Moritz would end up in a Psych ward for a 72 hour hold and he would be doped to the gills on Lithium and Valium before beginning endless amounts of psychotherapy. But as far as Frau Gabor was concerned, telling Moritz that she would talk to his parents and tell them that “no one could have worked as hard as [he] had this semester and that too hard a condemnation could have the gravest of possible recourses.” Moritz and the boys are singing throughout Frau Gabor’s recitation of the letter, he is growing more and more despondent as the letter and song continue, the boys giving Moritz’s inner demons more song time.

Act Two begins with a replaying of Melchior and Wendla’s sex scene in the hayloft while the Preacher lectures on the requirements of morality. When they’re done, Melchior asks Wendla if she’s okay, what follows is my favorite song of the show, one of the most lilting and emotionally sweet ‘The Morning Afters’ “The Guilty Ones.” But despite the song title, the guilt does not overwhelm the good emotions that they are feeling. They are however confused and overwhelmed by what they’re feeling.

Moritz has rocked out for the last time, “I Don’t Do Sadness” where he is determined to not do sadness, but of course the only way for that to work is for him to kill himself. Ilse interrupts him with rememberances of when they were younger, as well as a brief recounting of what she’s been up to since she was thrown out of her house. The artists colony nearby has been her home where the old men just want to paint her and paint her, because “you know men, if they can’t poke you with one thing, they’ll poke you with another.” She tells him how one man woke her up with a pistol aimed at her chest. And even asks him to walk her home, intimating that he’d get more than just a walk, but still he refuses, and crushes her (Blue Wind). She leaves him alone, and he reconsiders right as she leaves, but its too late. He puts his gun in his mouth and the lights go black.

His funeral is over-sung by Melchior giving voice to not only his thoughts, but Herr Stiefel’s as well. (Left Behind). Melchior berates Herr Stiefel for how hard he was on Moritz when he was alive, not giving him enough love, or making him feel like a failure. Finally, Herr Stiefel breaks down and cries on Moritz’s grave.

In order to distract from the fact that their actions led directly to Moritz’s death, the Schoolmaster and Schoolmistress try to put blame for Moritz’s death on Melchior’s essay on human sexuality that was found in his things. They expel him, and there is a release of pent up energy that has been building for the entire show as Melchior and the cast revel in the fact that he is “Totally Fucked.” The entire cast, adult members included, jump around and rock out to a song that is more akin to a rock concert than musical interlude. The emotions that have been building are so volatile that this song is a pressure release that is more than necessary. Melchior’s life in this village has changed dramatically, he is now separated from the lives of his fellow schoolmates, as evidenced by the fact he climbs a ladder on the back wall and spends the rest of the song and a large portion of the rest of the show on a small platform up above the band.

Wendla and Frau Bergmann are visited by a doctor since she has been feeling poorly for a while. The doctor says that Wendla is anemic but later says to Frau Bergmann that Wendla is in fact, pregnant. Frau Bergmann confronts Wendla with this information. The almost criminally misinformed Wendla is ignorant of how this is possible since her information as to where babies came from included the fact that a woman needed to be married and love her husband with all her self. She puts the pieces together and realizes that her mother lied to her, angry she yells “that? But I just wanted to be with him!” But Frau Bergmann does not allow herself to be swayed by her daughter’s anger and insists she know who the father is. Wendla hands over a letter from Melchior that she had received earlier, she wanders off and begins to sing, “Whispering” where she laments the fact that she is nothing more than a cautionary tale to be whispered among members of her village from then on. But she loved Melchior, and that is her story. Frau Bergmann takes Wendla to a back alley abortionist after Melchior is sent to a reformatory by his family for not only getting kicked out of school but also for getting Wendla in trouble.

Melchior escapes from the reformatory after getting a letter from Wendla telling him of her pregnancy, and arranges to meet her in the cemetery at midnight. Midnight comes around, Melchior finds Moritz’s grave, and then stumbles over a new one, he wipes dirt off of the stone and finds that it’s Wendla’s grave and that she died of anemia. This information destroys him and he pulls out a razor blade with every intention of joining Wendla and Moritz in death, but he is stopped by the appearance of apparitions of both Wendla and Moritz who tell him that “Those You’ve Known” don’t want his death, and that they’re still with him even though they’re gone, “those you’ve pained may carry that still with them, still the same they whisper all forgiven.” His love for life renewed he vows to carry on and “Now they’ll walk on my arm through the distant night
And I won’t let them stray from my heart
Through the wind, through the dark, through the winter light
I will read all their dreams to the stars.”

The cast comes together, led by Ilse and sing a song of hope, of rebirth, the “Song of Purple Summer.”

But that being said, I still want everyone’s input on my writing, so here’s what I’m going to do. I’m still going to post sections as I write them, but I’m going to do it on a GoogleWave that I’ll set up for folks interested in reading it. (If you need a googlewave invite, let me know as I still have plenty.) That way its only more or less by invite only and I’ll still have a fighting chance at getting it published when it’s done.

So if you already have a googlewave account (and I know that coveredwagonkid and Bill both have one), I’ll be setting up the wave with the next section and inviting you here in a bit. For the rest of you, give me your wave addresses and I’ll add you.

To Wave me-

SarahLWWilson@googlewave.com

“Mornin’ Ms. Blake.” He called jauntily towards her, crossing towards the counter where the cash register and computer were located.

She glowered at him as she stopped mid shelf and returned to the front of the store. She was not a fan of his bi-monthly pop-ins, worried that someone would notice and that her identity would be compromised. But once she was in sight of the front door and windows, her mask of professional bookseller was back firmly in place. “Welcome back! That book you ordered just came in yesterday.” She said, crossing behind her counter and retrieving a large hardbound book and placing it on the glass top in front of the US Marshal.

He said, as was his habit each time he came to check on her, “Reorganizing again Kate? What method are you doing now? Alphabetically by color? You must be going stir-crazy by now!”

As per usual, she glared at him and said, “And how is my family? Sam? Are they still safe?”

He continued on as if she hadn’t spoken, “it’s a quaint little town, nice God fearing, salt of the earth type people. Not many of your people here, are there?”

“Relocated FBI agents? I haven’t been looking for any more of us, we try to keep a low profile you know… for the safety of our families.” She said pointedly, finally addressing what he was saying.  “But that’s not what you meant, is it Marshal Austin?”

He retracted, seemingly due to her directly addressing his homophobic remarks that could have gotten him in trouble had she bothered to report him to his superiors.

“That’ll be $87.94 today sir. Please do come again.” She said as she finished ringing out his purchase. She found it amusing to force the asshole she was stuck with indefinitely to buy expensive books each time he came in, her small way of exacting justice for the pointed comments and the lack of forthcoming information about her family. No matter how many times she asked about them, he never said anything. It became something of a game, each of them finding different ways to play their respective roles, and Karla finding satisfaction where she could.

He was right though, she was going fucking crazy. There was only so many time she could reorganized the books in the store before she’d run out of legitimate ways of organization, and was forced to take more creative approaches. Karla had found it amusing when the teenaged anime crowd came in looking for their new manga and found it next to the copies of the Torah and the Qu’aran that usually occupied the religious section, the rational for that had been you read them opposite of usually accepted method of left to right. Color coding, alphabetical by the color of the spines, as well as size were all methods she had undertaken in beating back the doldrums.  Many of the more questionable books that had been stocked when she took over the store, (namely anything put out by Focus on the Family) had found their way to some black hole where they were never found again, and she had on more than one occasion placed the Bible next to Harry Potter in the fiction section.

What regular customers she did have were always forced to interact with Kate (ne Karla) in order to find what it was they were looking for, it wouldn’t matter if they had come in on Monday, by Friday there was a new organizational pattern that had emerged and nothing was ever the same. It gave Kate the beginnings of a reputation as a bit of a flake, but as ever, Kate did what was necessary for her survival. She was nothing if not pragmatic.  Being known as the town nut job would afford her leeway should she accidentally slip and let something that was uniquely Karla through the Kate-shield that she had crafted through many hours of intense concentration and all the skills she’d learned in observing human behavior.  Had she been faced with a member of her family, it was possible that she would have gone unnoticed, so remarkably different she acted, let alone the way she looked.  Karla’s shoulder length bright blonde hair was a cultural remnant of her Norwegian family, she had always dressed to impress and intimidate, her overall effect not only screamed FBI agent but also was sweetly butch in an amalgamation of both feminine and masculine ideals.  Kate however, had waist length brown hair that almost looked auburn in the right light, had a penchant for long patterned skirts and peasant tops, and gave the impression of an anachronistic hippie.  Whereas Karla was confident and domineering, Kate was a shy wallflower who was content to let others lead.

Such a dramatic change had been necessary, not in the minds of the US Marshalls, but by Karla herself. Afraid that she would be far too tempted to fall back on her old habits and ways that could raise suspicions as to who she actually was, (like her tendency of asking inappropriate questions just because questions were her business), she decided that taking measures to become someone so completely opposite from who she was before was the only way to completely insure the safety of not only her new identity, but her family as well.   She had discovered that by referring to herself as both ‘Karla’ and ‘Kate’ to differentiate between the two halves of herself, she was beginning to feel slightly schizophrenic. Several months into her stay in Wichita, she had finally been able to compartmentalize Karla away and begun to think of herself consistently as Kate.

It was on one such night when she had realized that she was feeling more comfortable in her new skin that she went out to a bar.  Going out searching for companionship had been Karla’s modus operandi previous to her relationship with Sam.  For Kate, it would be a test of her newfound confidence in maintaining her new persona and not allowing herself to fall back on old habits. The bar, as were most of the gay bars, was located in southeastern Wichita, which was known for the warehouses and other such buildings that were prime locations for muggers and other unseemly types. Had Kate not locked away Karla’s instincts, she would have had great reservations about being in such a potentially dangerous location unarmed, but Kate had no such hang-ups.

The bar was fairly crowded, it was a Friday night after all, but Kate had no problem procuring a seat at the bar. She sipped at her gin and tonic, poking the lime slice with her straw as she took in the crowd. There were rendezvous and hook ups occurring all around her, she remembered meeting countless girls at various bars in another life, and could spot interested parties a mile away- the red head across the room had been undressing Kate with her eyes since she arrived. Kate knew it was only a matter of time before she was approached.  Sure enough, she had only been surveying the crowd around her for a short time before she was on the other side of a chase that she had performed many times.

“Shame to see such a beautiful woman such as yourself drinking alone.” The redhead had procured the seat next to Kate, a seat that had been occupied by a slight and scared looking twenty something who fled at the redhead’s approach.

A woman who could scare away someone without even a glance, definitely someone that Karla would have butted heads with instantly, the two of them being far too similar for anyone’s taste, but since Kate was desperately trying to NOT be Karla, this redhead intrigued her.  But despite this, Kate still played the game perfectly.  Since this redhead was who she had been before, Kate knew what she was looking for and was able to play her role to perfection. “Well, I don’t appear to be lacking for company any more.” Tipping her mostly empty glass in the redhead’s direction, Kate indicated a need for another drink.

The redhead flicked her hand absentmindedly at the bartender who had seemingly magically appeared with another drink for Kate. “You must be new in town. There is no way that I could have missed seeing you before this.”

The predatory nature of their discourse precluded Kate from saying anything other than, “I highly doubt that much gets passed you” as she smiled over her drink, knowing that she was a skilled player on both sides of the game.

A look of surprise crossed the redhead’s face, replaced with one of profound respect. Kate’s skill had been found out, but the game continued, a battle of two evenly matched individuals both fully aware of where the evening would lead.  And yet, it was ultimately not a fair fight because Kate was aware of the moves on both sides of the equation.  They test each other’s skills for a while longer before the redhead breaks the spell. “I know it’s not what’s expected, but I have to say, you’re amazing!”

Kate vacillated between blushing and giving a fake little bow, and decided that blushing WHILE giving a playful bow was the right thing to do, at least that moment.  It caused her companion to laugh, showing the real girl, not the player who was supremely confident in her skills at bedding women. “Kate.” She said, extending her hand to the redhead as if they had just met.

“Amanda.” She said, claiming her hand with a casual and elegant tilt of her head. “So, all games aside, tell me about yourself.”

Kate smiled, Amanda might be out of moves, but she was still very much engaged in playing the game they had started, this was just round two, and being the only one who knew they were playing made it even better.  “You’re going to have to buy me another drink to get anything out of me. Despite what you might believe, I am NOT easy.”

Amanda smirked as she signaled for the bartender to bring them another round.



So here’s the pickup scene:

———————————————————————————————————————-

This case had affected me more than I had anticipated. I had seen dozens, if not hundreds, of murder cases in my career; after apprehending the man responsible for the torture and death of four women, all of whom resembled me in some respect, I was unable to keep the images and crime scene pictures from invading my unconscious mind-sometimes my own face replaced the victims’ in my dreams. Three nights of waking in cold sweats and stifling screams for fear of waking my neighbors was plenty. I took matters in hand, it was the weekend after all, and my guaranteed sure fix for nightmares was best served on a weekend.

I dressed for the hunt in a pair of black trousers that accentuated all the right places on my toned body and a red tank top.  Aggressive color scheme perhaps, but tonight I am a predator searching for the right type of distraction.  I had luck finding said distraction in this particular bar before, but not that recently, so it was unlikely I would repeat a performance and possibly step on someone’s toes.  The post midnight atmosphere was electric, energizing me to the hunt and giving me a deadline-two hours until last call and I needed a distraction secured before then. I absorbed the conversations about things that didn’t involve death and the horrors that I saw on nearly a daily basis, and found myself unconsciously swaying to the beat of the music that the dancers on the floor were making their own. Music has a way of integrating itself into my very being, the natural rhythms adding a slight swagger to my step as I approached the bar to get a drink.

Banging back the shot of tequila right away, I sipped at my beer while I took in the crowd, searching for a likely target.  Spotting a tall brunette wearing a blue shirt and dark jeans standing alone at the end of the bar opposite me, I made my way over.  Leaning in I said “Haven’t seen you in here before.”

“Yeah, I thought I would try something different.” Her eyes were dark brown but were sparkling with excitement and liquid encouragement.

Giving her the half smile half smirk that’s guaranteed me many an hour of distraction before, I replied, “Well, you picked a good night. Last time I was here, this place was much more crowded. The dance floor was more like a mosh pit.” I gestured at the dance floor where people were moving in sync with each other, dancing in a way that was part rational thinking and part primal desire made physical.

“So you come here often?” Gotcha, I thought, I’d managed to get her to ask the clichéd question.

“Not very. But often enough, it feels like, sometimes.”  Continuing to sip at my beer, knowing it was only a matter of time before we began the dance that was both dance and seduction.

“You like it that much then?” She sounded surprised.

“Good drinks, good music, no one I know to bother me while I’m trying to have fun…” A shrug. “What’s not to like?”  I continued to drink my beer, I was coming to the bottom of my glass, soon I would have to order a refill, but I hoped that I would instead be on the dance floor continuing the seduction of my next distraction.

“I’ll drink to that.” With a mutual grin, we clinked glasses and did just that.

“And, of course, there’s generally plenty of… attractive… possibilities for a dance partner,” I said, finishing off my beer, it was almost that critical moment where I would know if my charms were working on this particular girl.

“You know, if you’re going to keep trying to lure me onto the dance floor, the least you can do is tell me your name.” she said matter of factly.

“Fair enough, its Karla.” I smirked again and put my empty glass on the bar.

“Sam.”

“Nice to meet you Sam.”

“So do you often go up to random women and ask them to dance?” She asked, her cheeks starting to glow red. Gotcha. I thought to myself.

“I haven’t asked you yet.”

“The ‘yet’ implies that you will, though, so the question still stands.”

I grinned lazily, knowing that it was literally only a matter of time. Sam might not know it yet, but she would be spending the rest of the night in my bed. “Only the ones that look receptive.”

“Still, though, you’d probably have better luck at a gay club.” She blushed harder as she said ‘gay club.’

Ah, a straight girl, an added bonus. Bedding a straight girl adds a level of difficulty in obtaining my distraction, but it was not an insurmountable difficulty. The number of so called ‘straight’ girls who had found themselves in my bed was definitely in the double digits, or would be, if I kept track of how many there were.  “You say that as if you know it for a fact. Have you ever been to one?”

If I hadn’t seen it for myself, I wouldn’t believe it possible for her face to get any more red, “Only once, when I was dodging my ex-boyfriend, as I knew he’d never look for me there. Ended up having a few drinks and dancing with a rather pleasant redhead, then I went home.”
“So she led then?” A practical question that still continued the game that she was most likely not aware we were playing.

“I don’t really know how to…” She muttered.

“So I’m assuming you won’t mind if I lead then?” Finally the question that put me on the dance floor and got me that much closer to my bedroom and the bliss of distraction.

“Are you finally asking me to dance?” She sounded surprised, nervously playing with her glass with her long delicate fingers, like a pianist, or a painter.

“I am.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then I would be wrong about you, but I’m not wrong.” I took her by the hand and led her out to the dance floor.

The band was playing a fast song and we began to move in time with the music, “Guess I don’t have to worry about who’s leading now.” She said directly in my ear so as to be heard over the thumping music.

“Maybe not yet. But the night is young.” As we continued to dance, I placed my hand on her hip, moving her in conjunction with my movements so she was mirroring me. I needn’t have made even that much effort because before long she was pressing herself up against me, sliding her hands off of my shoulders and down my arms to my sides and back up again.

She asked, “And where do you envision this evening going?”

Every other cue that I had previously was as if it were a whisper compared to this shout, “somewhere where I can touch you in all the places your last lover forgot.”

“You sound sure of yourself.” She gulped in my ear as I started kissing down her neck.

“When you come home with me tonight, I will make you feel truly alive.”

She continued to play hard to get, so I broke out the line that guaranteed me more than one evening of distraction, “The way I see it, you have two options: you can stay here and hope that your next great romance will walk up to you and buy you another drink, or you can come home with me and see what it feels like to be loved like a woman truly deserves. If you choose door number one, then I was clearly wrong in my estimation of you, but since I’m never wrong, I’ll meet you outside.” I punctuated my statement with a fierce kiss directly on her lips that left her breathless; I turned away and headed out of the bar without looking to see if she was following me. I knew she was.  She caught up with me outside and she followed me to my apartment a few blocks away.

——————————————————————————————————–

Slamming through my front door in a flurry of hands, kisses and clothes, I barely remember to shut the door so as to not give my neighbors a free show.  As I kissed down her neck to her collarbone, I slid her jacket off and let it fall to the floor.  She returned the favor and placed her hands at the small of my back before freezing. Murmuring against her skin I ask, “everything alright?”

She didn’t answer for a minute and I continued as if everything was in fact all right. “What’s this?” She finally asks.

Distracted, I didn’t noticed what she was referring to, “what’s what?”

She pulls away, pushing me up from where I was exploring the area of her chest exposed by her shirt to indicate more forcefully at the offending item. Oh shit, my gun. I realized finally what had caused such a disturbance.  I couldn’t believe that I had forgotten that I was wearing my gun. Normally I at least give my distraction a bit of warning about that, or remove it before they get to where I’m carrying it.

I reached behind myself and retrieved my weapon and the small of the back holster in which I had carried it, pulled the magazine out and placed them in the safe on the small table near my front door. “Sorry about that.” I made as to resume my previous position but was stopped again.

“You carry a gun?” She stared at me in shock; I could see the thoughts running across her face, was I going to hurt her? Was I a criminal? A cop? Should she leave?

“Hazard of the job. I’m never truly off duty.”  I normally shied away from telling my distractions my whole life story, but then I normally made sure they didn’t notice the gun. Again I attempted to resume my actions, hands pulling her close by her belt loops and diving in for a deep and passionate kiss.  I really didn’t want to talk.

“You a cop?” She again stopped me, this time pushing me further away and making her way into my living room.

I groaned under my breath and started swearing mentally, I just wanted a simple, uncomplicated roll in the sheets with the hottest girl I could find. Someone to help me forget… well everything. Instead, I get Ms. 20 questions. “I work for the government.” I couldn’t see this going the way I had anticipated earlier.

“Please, in this town, who DOESN’T work for the government?” She rolled her eyes at my apparent non-answer. “I’m guessing Secret Service, maybe ATF?”

Since my plan to distract myself had gone so far off the rails at this point, I made my way to the kitchen to my liquor cabinet. “I’m going to get something to drink. Would you like anything?”

“No, I’m alright. And you still haven’t answered my question!  I don’t mind that you carry a gun, really! My ex works for Homeland Security.” She called after me.

I poured two fingers of Kentucky bourbon into a tumbler with 2 ice cubes for myself, and mixed her a drink as well.  Walking back into the living room where she’d made herself at home on my couch, “Gin and tonic, right?” I handed her the glass before sitting down on the other end of the couch, slightly facing her.

“Um… yeah.”  She was confused and surprised that I’d remembered her drink since she hadn’t ordered one in front of me.

“Trained to notice things about people.”

“Definitely Secret Service then, am I right?”

“No.” what is it with her and wanting to know my entire life story? I thought to myself as I took a long drink of my bourbon, feeling the burning warmth spread downwards from my mouth and settle in my belly.

“Oh come on, you can tell me!  You’re too hot to work for the DEA, or INS. You seem like you need to be in the action, not sitting behind some desk.  FBI maybe?” She joked as I continued to drink and began looking more dejected as my plans for a pleasant evening were looking bleaker and bleaker.

Standing angrily, I put my glass back down on the table. “Do you want to talk? Or do you want to fuck?” I was finally fed up and exploded, demanding an answer of my companion, she could no longer be classified as a distraction since everything she’d done since arriving at mine was just stirring up more of the same thoughts I’d hoped to pack down tonight in her arms.

“I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. I was, I am, I just….” Shocked by my abrupt outburst, she stood, “I’ll just … I’ll just be going then. Sorry to … yeah.” She was out the door before I could stop her.

Damn it. I blew the seduction of the straight girl… more subtlety was required in bedding a straight girl than a dyke. Coming off so forward never was going to get me what I wanted. My mind made up before I even knew I was deciding anything, I grabbed my keys and jacket from where they’d fallen on the floor, and ran out into the cold DC night after her.

It had started to rain, and my companion had forgotten her jacket in my entryway. My long legs had caught up with her quickly, “Wait, I’m sorry. Please. Come back inside.”

“Why?  I don’t even know why I came here… it was CLEARLY a mistake.” Her face showed her fury and fear, and I was instantly contrite.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or scare you off… come back inside, we can just talk. I promise. Just please come back inside, its’ freezing and you’re getting soaked.”  Whatever emotions she saw in my face must have convinced her I was serious, and in need of someone to listen because she instantly softened and assented.  I took off my jacket and placed it around her shoulders.

———————————————————————————————–

My evening hadn’t ended the way I had originally planned, but I was going to find the thing I needed to rid myself of the nightmares.  True to my word, upon returning to my apartment, all we did was talk.  It turned out that Sam was a great listener.  She knew when to stay silent, when to ask questions for clarification, and when to just hold me as I cried out the stress, fear, and acknowledgment of the danger I faced on a daily basis. It turned out that what I had truly needed was not a night of physical pleasure, but rather an unburdening of my soul.  She didn’t even flinch when I described my nightmares, the thoughts that had been plaguing me for days.  I hadn’t realized how much the compartmentalization that I utilized to be better able to do my job had been negatively affecting my psyche.

And here’s the new scene:

“Where’s Dad?”

“On his way back from Minneapolis.”

“What was he doing in Minneapolis?” My father hates the size of the Twin Cities and avoided them whenever he could.

“Picking up your girlfriend… your former girlfriend? What would she be considered?”

“Sam? He’s picking up Sam?”

“Yes, lovely girl. I don’t know why you felt you had to keep her a secret from us. We absolutely love her.”

“When… when did you meet her?”

“Oh, the poor dear came up and introduced herself at your funeral.  Really, Karla, making your pregnant lover introduce herself and out you at your own funeral? We raised you with more manners than that.”

My mother was more disappointed in me for NOT coming out and the circumstances forcing Sam to do that for me than the fact I am a lesbian? Despite the profiling training I had received at Quantico, I hadn’t expected this reaction from my mother. Perhaps my ‘death’ had made everything else irrelevant and insignificant in comparison.

“Did you say… pregnant?” I choked out the word that had sunk in through the flurry of other thoughts racing through my mind. My throat had suddenly gone dry and my palms had begun to sweat profusely, my stomach was leaping into my throat.  We had been trying to get pregnant, but as of the time I had “died” it hadn’t taken and Sam had been discouraged and was thinking about stopping the fertility treatments.

My mother had stopped from her puttering around the kitchen and was now staring at me in shock. Quietly she replied, “you didn’t know?”

Wordlessly I shook my head.

“Yes, she was pregnant when you died. She had just found out.”

I sank to the floor, shocked. I hadn’t just left my girlfriend, no really my wife in everything but name, behind to believe I was dead, I’d left my child as well.

“And the child?” I croaked.

“A lovely boy named Benjamin. Really, maybe you should talk to Sam about this…” My mother attempted to end the conversation, having revealed a secret that probably wasn’t hers to share.

“I left my son to think I was dead!! To grow up without one of his mothers! If I had know… we could have gone together…” I began ranting, verbally castigating myself for my obliviousness and my failures as a mother.

“There was no way you could have known!”

“But I could have found out!! I could have asked! Someone should have said something…” I couldn’t stop beating myself up. This time it was my mother’s turn to calm me down.

“But really, would they have told you? Would they have told you that your lesbian lover was pregnant with your child?” Reason, and her suspicion that the Bureau wouldn’t have been so accommodating, wasn’t working. “Karla! Karla… you couldn’t have known, even if they Bureau approved of your relationship with Sam, and I’m not so sure they did, they wouldn’t have wanted to distract you from your new life. They would have been concerned with the safety of you and your cover. Tell me, had they told you Sam was pregnant, what would you have done?”

I glared at her, knowing she was right. “I would have broken protocol and gone to be with them.” I finally admitted.

“You would have left your protection and put us ALL in danger. Including Sam and little Benny.” She continued soothing me, “This way she was safe. It might have made things painful for all parties involved, but you were the one who decided our safety was more important than our happiness, now the shoe is on the other foot.  I know it’s hard, not knowing your son, but you have this great opportunity now, to be there for your partner and your son; a second chance to start a whole new life.  Not many people get that opportunity. Cherish it.”

She’d forced me to look at her through my teary eyes. Nodding, I began drying my eyes and stood up.

“Now. Introduce me to my other grandson. Daniel, right?”

“Yes, his name is Daniel. Agent James has him out in the car.”  I went and opened the front door, waving at the SUV, I saw the doors of the vehicle open and my son rushed to my side and gave me a hug. He always knows when I am upset, and wants to make me feel better.

“Is everything okay mom?” he asked, his face still partially buried in my waist.

“Yes, sweetheart. Everything is all right. My mom is here, and my dad and Sam are on their way. Do you remember me telling you about Sam? That she was my girlfriend?”

“Like Amanda? Amanda was your girlfriend, wasn’t she?”

Blushing, I replied, “Yes, Amanda was my girlfriend. Sam was my girlfriend BEFORE Amanda, when… before I lived in Wichita.  Anyway- Sam had a baby after I moved; he’s your little brother. So, when they get here, don’t be scared, just be the little gentleman you are, okay?”

“Alright mom-what’s his name?”  Daniel has always been adaptive, and while I’ve tried to prepare him for meeting my family and try to keep him away from the more emotional scenes to assure his own emotional security, I’ve had to push him further than I would have liked.  But my little man makes me more and more proud every day, he’s taking everything more or less in stride, “His name is Benjamin. Come on, let’s go meet your grandma, alright?”

He nodded and threaded his hand through mine. We made out way back to the kitchen where my mom had started making dinner; she is a master at stretching a meal to feed more people than originally were planned.  Our house had been the neighborhood go – to place; there was hardly a night when I was growing up that there wasn’t an addition to our dinner table, a friend of mine or one of my sisters’, a work associate of my father’s, or just a member of our extended family that included virtually everyone in the neighborhood.

“Smells great mom.” I said to announce our presence as to not startle her when she was chopping vegetables.

“Oh thank you dear, it’s just chicken and dumplings. Oh! Is this the young fellow here?” She asked, noticing Daniel standing at my side.

So here it is, the Where Karla met Sam scene-

——————————————————————————————————————————————————–

This case had affected me more than I had initially anticipated. I had seen dozens, if not hundreds, of murder cases in my career; but for some reason, after apprehending the man responsible for the torture and death of four women who all resembled me in some way or other, I was unable to keep the images and crime scene pictures from invading my unconscious mind and sometimes my own face replaced the victims own in my dreams. Three nights of waking in cold sweats and stifling screams for fear of waking my neighbors was plenty. I took matters in hand, it was the weekend after all, and my guaranteed sure fix for nightmares was best served on a weekend.

I was dressed for the hunt in a pair of black trousers that accentuated all the right places on my toned body and a red tank top.  Aggressive color scheme perhaps, but tonight I am a predator searching for the right type of distraction.  I had luck finding said distraction in this particular bar before, but not that recently, so it was unlikely I would repeat a performance and possibly step on someone’s toes.  The atmosphere was electric, energizing me to the hunt. I took note of the conversations about things that didn’t involve death and the horrors that I saw on nearly a daily basis, and found myself unconsciously swaying to the beat of the music that the dancers on the floor were making their own. Music has a way of integrating itself into my very being, the natural rhythms adding a slight swagger to my step as I approached the bar to get a drink.

Banging back the shot of tequila right away, I sipped at my beer while I took in the crowd, searching for a likely target.  Spotting a tall brunette wearing a blue shirt and dark jeans standing alone at the end of the bar opposite me, I made my way over.  Leaning in I said “It’s a good crowd tonight.”

“Yeah, I thought it might be too crowded, but this isn’t too bad.”

Giving her the half smile half smirk that’s guaranteed me many an hour of distraction before, I replied, “Normally when they have a band it’s insane here. These guys are good though.” Motioning at the small four person cover band playing in the corner near the dance floor, I turned and put my back on the bar near her.

“So you come here often?” Gotcha, I thought, I’d managed to get her to ask the clichéd question.

“When I can, the drinks are good, the crowd is usually just right, and the music is perfect to dance to.” Continuing to sip at my beer, I left the question unasked but hanging in the air, knowing it was only a matter of time before we began the dance that was both dance and seduction.

“Are you asking me to dance?” She sounded surprised, nervously playing with her glass with her long delicate fingers, like a pianist, or a painter.

“If I had asked you to dance, we’d already be dancing.” I said, outwardly bold for the first time in our conversation.

“So do you want to dance?” She asked, more for clarification than actually asking, but I took it exactly the way I wanted. I do love the ways I can spin a girl’s mind with just a smile and a few well placed leading questions.

“Why yes, I would love to dance with you.” I graciously accepted her invitation. Half the work of a successful hunt was getting them to do the work for you; fewer hard feelings the next morning that way.  I polished off my beer, grasped her hand and lead the way to the mass of people dancing and swaying to the music pounding through the building. Beginning to move, I placed my hand on her hip, moving her in conjunction with my movements so she was mirroring me. I needn’t have made even that much effort because before long she was pressing herself up against me, sliding her hands off of my shoulders and down my arms to my sides and back up again. I leant in close and laid a gentle kiss on her cheek right below her ear before whispering, “Every man in here is jealous of me, and a few women too.”

I could feel her skin heat with her blush as she replied, “I was thinking the same thing.”

I took that as the go ahead sign and crushed her lips with mine. “want to get out of here?” I whispered in her ear.

Wordlessly she nodded and followed me from the bar to my apartment a few blocks away.

——————————————————————————————————–

Slamming through my front door in a flurry of hands, kisses and clothes, I barely remember to shut the door so as to not give my neighbors a free show.  As I kissed down her neck to her collarbone, I slid her jacket off and let it fall to the floor.  She returned the favor and placed her hands at the small of my back before freezing. Murmuring against her skin I ask, “everything alright?”

She didn’t answer for a minute and I continued as if everything was all right. “What’s this?” She finally asks.

Distracted, I didn’t noticed what she was referring to, “what’s what?”

She pulls away, pushing me up from where I was exploring the area of her chest exposed by her shirt to indicate more forcefully at the offending item. Oh shit, my gun. I realized finally what had caused such a disturbance.

I reached behind myself and retrieved my weapon and the small of the back holster in which I had carried it, pulled the magazine out and placed it on the small table near my front door. “Sorry about that.” I made as to resume my previous position but was stopped again.

“You carry a gun?” She stared at me in shock, I could see the thoughts running across her face, was I going to hurt her? Was I a criminal? A cop? Should she leave?

“Hazard of the job. I’m never truly off duty.”  I normally shied away from telling my distractions my whole life story, but then they normally never noticed the gun. Again I attempted to resume my actions, hands pulling her close by her belt loops and diving in for a deep and passionate kiss.  I really didn’t want to talk.

“You a cop?” She again stopped me, this time pushing me further away and making her way into my living room.

I groaned under my breath and started swearing mentally, I just wanted a simple, uncomplicated roll in the sheets with the hottest girl I could find. Someone to help me forget… well everything. Instead, I get Ms. 20 questions. “I work for the government.” I couldn’t see this going the way I had anticipated earlier.

“Please, in this town, who DOESN’T work for the government?” She rolled her eyes at my apparent non-answer. “I’m guessing Secret Service, maybe ATF?”

Since my plan to distract myself had gone so far off the rails at this point, I made my way to the kitchen to my liquor cabinet. “I’m going to get something to drink. Would you like anything?”

“No, I’m alright. And you still haven’t answered my question!” She called after me.

I poured two fingers of Kentucky bourbon into a tumbler with 2 ice cubes for myself, and mixed her a drink as well.  Walking back into the living room where she’d made herself at home on my couch, “Gin and tonic, right?” I handed her the glass before sitting down on the other end of the couch, slightly facing her.

“Um… yeah.”  She was confused and surprised that I’d remembered her drink since she hadn’t ordered one in front of me.

“Trained to notice things about people.”

“Definitely Secret Service then, am I right?”

“No.” what is it with her and wanting to know my entire life story? I thought to myself as I took a long drink of my bourbon, feeling the burning warmth spread downwards from my mouth and settle in my belly.

“Oh come on, you can tell me!” She joked as I continued to drink and began looking more dejected as my plans for a pleasant evening were looking bleaker and bleaker.

Standing angrily, I threw my glass against the wall opposite her where it crashed and shattered, leaving a trail of bourbon on my white walls. “What is it with you and wanting to know everything about me? Isn’t it just enough to know that I want you? I know you want me too, or you wouldn’t have come back with me.” I was finally fed up and exploded, demanding an answer of my companion, she could no longer be classified as a distraction since everything she’d done since arriving at mine was just stirring up more of the same thoughts I’d hoped to pack down tonight in her arms.

“I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. I was, I am, I just….” Shocked by my almost violent outburst, she stood, “I’ll just … I’ll just be going then. Sorry to … yeah.” She was out the door before I could stop her.

Damn it. Why did I blow up at her? Would it have been so terrible to actually talk to someone? Have a real human connection with someone whose life is so very different than mine? Whose life isn’t touched by the darkness that sometimes seems to swallow mine whole? My mind made up before I even knew I was deciding anything, I grabbed my keys and jacket from where they’d fallen on the floor, and ran out into the cold DC night after her.

It had started to rain, and my companion had forgotten her jacket in my entryway. My long legs had caught up with her quickly, “Wait, I’m sorry. Please. Come back inside.”

“Why? So you can blow up at me again? What was that back there? I don’t even know what your name is! Do you always act this way towards your guests?  I just was curious. I’m sorry if I offended you, but … I won’t put up with that.”  Her face showed her fury and fear, and I was instantly contrite.

“I’m sorry. I just… I’ll answer whatever you want to ask, just please come back inside, its’ freezing and you’re getting soaked.”  Whatever emotions she saw in my face must have convinced her I was serious, and in need of someone to listen because she instantly softened and assented.  I took off my jacket and placed it around her shoulders.

Its a combo rewrite plus new pages, so even if you read the previous section, you should read this too cause there are some new added parts and I’m interested in comparisons between the previous and the new sections.

Oh, and I’m taking suggestions for a title… so keep that in mind.

With that being said:

Read And comment- Comments are Love.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————

My ten-year-old son was just as amazed by the second Bureau jet he was riding in, as he was the first one. When you’re that age, everything new and different is amazing and awe inspiring. The innocence of youth. I knew that he deserved answers for why he was being uprooted from his home in Kansas and hauled all across the country, gone through security screening at the Hoover building in DC, and accompanied by a stranger with a gun. He’d been patient up until now, but since he was about to meet my parents and potentially the rest of my family, he deserved to know what I could tell him about who I really am.

“Hey Daniel, come sit over here, I’ve got some things to tell you.” I patted the leather seat next to me.  He put down his PSP and came and sat next to me, leaning his head on my shoulder. I wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him close to me for a burst of confidence. “You know how I own the bookstore?” After he nodded I continued, “I haven’t always done that. I haven’t always lived in Kansas like I told you. I haven’t always been who you think I am…”

“You’re not going to be my mom?” He had jumped to the conclusion I had been hoping he wouldn’t think of, but I knew that was unrealistic.  Daniel is a smart kid and he already knew something was up.

“No, no of course I am going to be your mom. It just might be a little longer than we had originally planned. See, my name isn’t Kate Blake, its Karla, Karla Bjornson.  And I don’t really own a bookstore, I work for the FBI.”

“But why did you run the bookstore then if you work for the FBI?” He asked, trying to wrap his head around all of the information he was gaining.

“Something happened a few years ago, and I had to go into hiding to make sure the bad guys didn’t get me.  That’s why I was running the bookstore, and why I changed my name.”  Explaining something as complicated as the reasons why I had to enter witness protection to a ten year old was no easy task, but it was a good practice run for my family.

“But its safe now? Is that why we left?”

“Yes, it is safe now. You see Agent James over there?” I motioned to the agent accompanying us, “he’s here to make sure we’re safe. But don’t worry buddy, your mom can protect you too. She’s got some moves of her own.” I added that last bit with a wink and a smile, hoping to raise his spirits a bit and keep him from worrying.

“Where are we going? Another building like the one before?” He asked, referring to the Hoover building in DC where I had been debriefed and he got to spend quality time in the break room with various agents, and I suspected that one or more of them had slipped him a cup of coffee, owing to his extra jittery behavior.

“No, not this time. We’re going to see my parents. I’m going to have to leave you in the car for a while, just while I talk to them and tell them about you. Alright?”

“Why? Won’t they be happy to see you? Will they like me?”

“Oh honey, of course they’ll love you, everyone loves you. But they’re going to be surprised to see me, and I don’t want them to be too shocked at once. Ok?”

“Alright mom.” He assented, “Can I play my game now?”

“Yeah, go ahead buddy. We’ll be landing soon.” I kissed the top of his head and sent him back to his game.  The three years I had been fostering Daniel had been leading up to the moment when I would be able to officially adopt him and make him my son.  Now with this change in the plan, I had no idea where the adoption stood anymore.  A bookstore owner might be an acceptable parent, but where an FBI agent who worked too much and was always in danger might not be seen the same way.  With all of the changes that were occurring in such a short amount of time in my life, if I lost Daniel too I don’t know what I would do. He had pulled me out of the depression that had settled in when I was relocated to Wichita into a far more pedestrian lifestyle than I was used to; it had been my caseworker’s idea for me to foster a kid. It wasn’t like I didn’t have the time or energy to devote to a kid, and he thought that being responsible for someone other than myself would be a good way to keep my spirits up and to help me get settled into what could have potentially been a permanent situation.  I had finally settled into my new life, was making friends, involved in Daniel’s school, and was even considering starting to date again when I was called back to the Bureau and my old life. For most of my adult life I followed orders without question, but when I was ordered back to DC, I wanted desperately to ignore the order and remain in my quiet and safe life in Kansas.  I knew that believing I was dead was painful for my loved ones, and while they would be shocked and angry to find out that I wasn’t dead, they love me unconditionally and would get over it. But if I disobeyed the order and stayed, I would be intentionally causing them continued pain when it was within my power to alleviate it. Looking back over at Daniel, I knew that I would do whatever was within my power to make sure the adoption went through, I can’t lose him.

The plane shuddered as it touched down and I was shaken out of my reverie.  We had landed in my hometown of St. Cloud Minnesota, to be reunited with the family that thinks I’m dead.  As I helped Daniel gather his things and grabbed my bag, Agent James opened the hatch and led the way down the stairs at the St. Cloud regional airport, he climbed behind the wheel of the Bureau SUV waiting for us. Grabbing Daniel’s hand and ushering him in front of me I hurried towards the car, threw our bags in the trunk, made sure that Daniel was situated in the backseat and buckled my seatbelt for the ride to my parents’ house.

The car was silent the entire way from the airport possibly due to the fact that Agent James knew that shortly he would be in the middle of a potentially explosive and emotional scene when he revealed that I was alive to my parents, and the fact that I was this close to having a ten year old son.  Parents never want to outlive their children; while I knew that they had come to the realization when I joined the Bureau it was a possibility, they still were not prepared to be given the news that I was dead and there wasn’t enough of me to give back to them for a burial. It was a toss up what news would be most shocking to them, the fact I was alive or that I’ve got a foster son… who am I kidding, the fact I’m alive will surprise them more.

Agent James pulled up in front of my childhood home and stopped the car. “Are you ready Agent Bjornson?”

His voice shattered the silence and shook me out of my thoughts, “is anyone ever ready to come back from the dead?” I asked, “now’s as good a time as any I suppose. Hey Daniel, wait here for a little bit, Agent James or I will come and get you when its alright, okay?”

He nodded his assent and went back to playing on his PSP.  With each step as we walked towards the front door, I took in the house I never thought I would be able to see again, the pale blue paint and darker blue shutters on the windows, the peaked windows of the second floor, one of which was my old bedroom overlooking the front yard. I wonder if it’s the same as it was last time I was here or if they redecorated. Arriving at the door, Agent James rang the doorbell, and I stood behind him, waiting for him to do the reverse notification. As an agent, I had done countless notifications, and while it never gets easier to tell people that their loved one is dead, I’d never been on a reverse notification like this; telling people that the person they’ve believed to be dead actually is alive, well that’s a whole different animal.

The door opened slowly, Agent James spoke again, “Hello Mrs. Bjornson. I have some news for you and Mr. Bjornson…”

She interrupted him, “Did you catch the people who blew up Karla? Has there been a break in the case?”

“No ma’am I’m sorry that’s not why I’m here. I… there’s really no easy way to say this…” He fumbled for the right words to explain the situation.

I decided to take mercy on the young agent. This might come easier from me. Stepping out from behind him, I said meekly, “Hi mom.” Agent James stepped forward and caught her as she fainted dead away. The two of us carried her inside and put her on the couch.

Sitting on the chair nearest the couch while Agent James procured a glass of water for my mom, I waited for her to regain consciousness. Looking around the living room, I could see no differences from the last time I was here, what was it, Christmas five years ago? Yeah right before I went undercover. I thought to myself, observing one obvious difference. On the mantle above the fireplace where a painting my mom had done when I was younger usually hung, was a large picture of my graduation from the Academy, surrounding it were smaller pictures of other instances in my life, high school and college graduation, Senior Prom, first day of kindergarten, learning how to ride a bike and a variety of others, as well as a flag folded triangularly and framed, which held the prominent position in the center of the mantle, directly under my Academy graduation picture, A shrine, to me; the proud parents of a dead Agent. It tore at my heart, a more visceral understanding of the pain my parents had been put through for the last four years. I could sense the pride my parents had for my life, despite never overly vocal with their praise and pride, preferring instead to worry endlessly about the danger and the hours that kept me away from family functions and the like.  Now, after I was ‘dead’ they seemed to have forgotten all about that and focused on the pride they had for me. The complex emotions of being a parent made more sense to me now, ever since Daniel.

My mother started stirring on the couch, turning away from the mantle, I knelt by her side. “Hey mom, it’s alright.”

“Karla? But you’re dead?!” She was verging on hysterics; I could see her begin to hyperventilate.

Hurrying to attempt to calm her, I whispered soothing words in her ear as I stroked her back, when she was calmer I said, “I’m not dead. I’m right here.” I was finding myself at a loss as to what to say to make things clear. “It’s all going to be alright. I promise.”

“We … we thought you were gone. Agent James told us you were blown up. We got a flag… there wasn’t enough of you …empty casket…outlive…my daughter” she sobbed and couldn’t seem to follow through on any of her thoughts.

Agent James had returned with the glass of water, he handed it to her, and then she slapped him across the face. “You knew all this time she wasn’t dead?! And you let us go on believing that she had been murdered? Do you HAVE any heart? Any compassion? You let us believe our oldest daughter was dead, when all along she was alive?! What kind of sick monster are you?!” She raised her hand back to slap him again when I reached up and grabbed her hand to stop her.

“Mom, calm down. It’s not Agent James’ fault. He was only following orders. It was important that you all believe I was gone, for both your safety and mine.”

My mom seemed on the edge of breaking down, she fell forward off the couch into my arms, sobbing uncontrollably, releasing the years of grief and fear that had bottled up inside her. Tears of relief as well, relief of knowing that I was alright, hoping that things could return to some semblance of normal, tears of fear that I might again disappear and allow them to think I was dead. I held her while she cried, not saying anything but just holding her and letting her let it out.

After a while, she calmed down and the flow of tears halted, “Oh Karla, you’re alive!” She apologized for her breakdown, reassuring me that I was in fact a welcome surprise even if she was still in shock at my sudden appearance. “Let me get a look at you!” She stood me up and turned me around, doing the cursory scan to assure herself that, yes I am indeed alive and healthy, and probably in need of a few more meals as I couldn’t possibly be taking care of myself the same way she would. “Have you been eating? Can I get you anything?”

“Yes mom, I’ve been eating, and no I’m fine right now.  I know this wasn’t something you were expecting, I wasn’t expecting to ever be able to come home.” Pausing and taking a deep breath, I turned to Agent James, “Do you mind going to get Daniel?” He got the hint and headed out to the SUV.

“Who’s Daniel?” My mom asked me, “What happened? Where have you been?”

“Hang on mom, I’ll explain everything, one thing at a time.” I laughed slightly; my mom is famous for babbling out lots of questions that she wants the answers to all at once. “What do you want to know first?” I sat down on the couch next to her, folding my legs under myself, my flowing skirt pooling around myself, damned skirt I cursed in my head, still not used to wearing them after all this time.

My mom thought for a minute and then asked, “Where have you been?”

“Wichita Kansas. In witness protection.” I answered fairly simply.

“You’ve been ten hours away all this time?” She was shocked and dismayed, “you were ten hours away and you couldn’t tell us that you were alright? You let us go on believing you were dead?! We raised you better than that Karla…”

“Yes, you did mom, but I couldn’t tell you anything. Operational security required a certain amount of secrecy, and then when I went into witness protection, it was for not only my safety, but yours as well that you thought I was dead. I did all of this for you, dad, Becky and Ally. I didn’t want to see anything happen to you because of me.” I explained tears started pouring down my face as I tried desperately to get my mother to understand that I hadn’t meant to hurt them that I wanted nothing more than for them to be safe, even if that meant they had to be in pain.

“Operational security? You had a desk job!” My face must have given me away because she exclaimed, “You didn’t have a desk job… you were in danger… what were you doing?”

“Undercover. That’s all I can tell you. My cover was blown and the Bureau had to get me out in the safest way. It wasn’t just me that would have been in danger, it would have been you all, and Sam. So, faking my death was the only thing that would ensure that you were all safe. If I was dead, they wouldn’t come looking for the rest of you.”

“What does Sam know?”

I sighed, I had been dreading this question, “She knew I was undercover, but she thinks I’m dead.” Pausing, I asked the question I hoped my mother knew the answer to, “how is she? Is she alright?”

“She’s coping, she comes and visits every so often. But now, what does she know now? Does she know you’re back?”

“No, I haven’t had a chance to tell her. I was debriefed in DC and then brought here. I’ll tell her in a few days.”

“You can tell her when she gets here. Your father is picking her up in Minneapolis right now.”

“Sam’s coming here? Now?” Now I was panicking. I hadn’t anticipated the fact that my partner would be here. I was more or less prepared to tell my parents about what happened, but I hadn’t prepared for Sam. What would she think about Daniel? We’d been planning on starting a family when I went undercover. What if she’s moved on? Would it even be possible for us to pick up where we left off? What if she never forgives me for letting her think I was dead, I’d promised to never leave her alone… especially when she was trying to have my baby.

My mother interrupted my panicked thoughts, “Now who is this Daniel?”

“Daniel is… my son. Or will be soon.” I mumbled, still distracted by my partner’s impending arrival.

“Your son?”

“The adoption hadn’t quite gone through before Agent James arrived to bring me back to DC. I don’t know what the status will be now. I was adopting him under my alias.”

“I’d like to meet my grandson. If that’s alright with you?” Typical mom, give her a grandson and everything is forgotten, at least for a while.  The front door opened again and Agent James and Daniel came in.

“Daniel, this is my mom, mom, my son Daniel.” I was hesitant, worrying about the reception I would have with Sam.

“Hi Daniel, I’m your grandma Edna, you can just call me Grandma, if you want.”

Daniel looked up at me from his position at my side, I nodded down at him, and he went and gave her a hug.  I heard the back door open, and turned towards the sound.

“Hi sweetheart, we’re home.”

“Dad” I breathed, I was about to round the corner into the kitchen when I heard, “Here, let me get that for you.”

Sam answered, “Oh thank you Lars.”

I rounded the corner just in time to see Sam hand over a duffle bag and a small backpack to my dad. She was still busy with her other pieces of baggage and hadn’t seen me. But my dad’s eyes caught me as he looked up.

“Hi Daddy.” He dropped all the bags and rushed me, gathering me into his arms. I leaned into his hug, reveling in the comfort that comes from being a daddy’s girl and just needing a hug.

“What’s going on? We… we heard you were dead. He TOLD us you were dead.” He was just as dumbfounded as my mom was, at least he didn’t faint.

There was a commotion from behind him; Sam had just put a little boy down on the ground. She was occupied with her juggling act, and hadn’t seen me yet. “Sam.” I called, getting her attention. Her head snapped upwards, her eyes piercing into mine. I saw the shock in her eyes, and still that sparkle that had been there when we were together.

“Karla?” She dropped the bag, frightening the child who went running to my father, and she replaced him in my arms. Our reunion was a series of inaudible words and assurances, declarations of love and of hope, she wound her hand through my hair, which was significantly longer than when she’d previously seen me, and held me close to her for what seemed like both an eternity and all too brief a moment. She pulled away slightly and looked at me. “You look better than I imagined a corpse would look.” She gave me her famous half smile indicating both amusement as well as anger.

“Yeah, well, dead doesn’t really suit me.” I gave a faint smile. “Who’s this handsome fellow?” I asked of the boy in my father’s arms.

Sam reached over and took the boy from my father and brought him over to meet me. “Benjamin, meet your other mommy.”

“Like from the pictures?” He asked in a squeaky, shy voice.

“Yes sweetheart, from the pictures.” Her voice broke a little with her tears.

Shocked, I asked “It took?” Tears glistened in my eyes for the second time today, “when?”

“Right after you died. I got the worst news of my life a day before I got the best news of my life. Talk about balance.” She smiled wryly back at me, “Come on Benny, come say hi.”

He reached over and jumped into my arms. Holding him close to me, I could see my father everywhere in him. My little boy.  My two little boys! I corrected myself. I called over to Daniel, “Come here sweetheart,” he hopped off his chair, bringing his cookie with him and hurried over to me, clinging to my side like a barnacle. “Sam, this is Daniel, my foster son. Daniel, this is my… this is Sam.” I wasn’t sure if introducing Sam as his mom, or assuming that we could still be together, would be appropriate since I was surprising them both with this as it is.

“Hi Daniel, this is your brother Benjamin. Benjamin, this is Daniel.” Sam introduced the two boys; the toddler stuck a sticky hand out and shook Daniel’s hand.

“Hey Daniel, why don’t you take Ben to the living room, I think there’s a box of toys behind the blue couch.” Sam pointed into the other room where my mother was standing in the doorway. The two boys hurried off to go play together and leave the grown-ups to talk. “So obviously you’re not dead.”

As if sensing the need for a distraction, my mother interjected, “I’m going to make some coffee, would anyone like some?”

I answered without thinking, “Actually, do you have any tea?”

Sam’s expression was one of shock and confusion, “Tea? You hate tea. You once told me that your day wasn’t complete without a coffee IV.”

Mentally slapping myself on the forehead I answered, “Kate Blake doesn’t drink coffee. She’s totally all hippie, tea drinking, vegetarian, tree hugging, peace love and understanding.”  They still looked completely confused, as well they should be, I had, on more than one occasion, taken opportunity to espouse wildly on coffee and the joys it brought me; condemning tea as something that was only for people who couldn’t handle the full bodied flavor of true coffee. “Kate Blake was my alias-Who I lived as in Wichita since the explosion. Mom, I actually would LOVE some coffee.”

After a brief shuffle of the coffee mugs, milk and sweetener, we were all sitting around the kitchen table, and all eyes were on me, looking for answers. Some of the answers they wanted I couldn’t give them, some of them were painful, and none of them would come easily.

“I told mom earlier, that when I was undercover my cover story was blown, some stupid local cop decided that he was going to try to make detective by trying to bring down the same guy I’d spent eight months trying to get next to, his overzealousness made him nervous and he had people tailing me. They saw me meeting with my handler, and that was it. We knew I couldn’t stay under, and since we didn’t have enough to put him away, I was the one who had to leave. Faking my death was the only way to ensure that the rest of you were safe.”

“I can’t believe this happened! We were woken up at 3am with a phone call telling us you were blown up! They didn’t even tell Sam anything at all!” My mother was ranting and raving, I know she means well, and was just trying to express her fear and grief at believing me dead for so long, but the things she was saying about the Bureau were striking close to home.

“Mother, the Bureau is not an unfeeling mindless machine that chews people up and destroys lives. We’re the good guys! I know it was really hard for you all to think I was dead, but it was for the best of reasons. This way, only one of us was uprooted from our lives. If we had told you I was still alive, you all would be at risk, and the only way to ensure your safety would have been to put you in the program as well, and there would have been no way to ensure that we could have been together as a family then. Separate people are easier to relocate than family groups.”

Sam spoke up in retaliation, “You always told me that this was a possibility, that you’d just disappear, or that you’d be shot or something like that.  I never expected to not be notified though.  I called Daryl after you didn’t come home or call for two days. He wouldn’t tell me what happened. He didn’t even tell me you were dead or whatever the story was!  I thought he was your friend! Your partner!”  She was crying, “I couldn’t get any information on my girlfriend! We had been together for six years! We had cookouts with Daryl and his family!  Everyone knew who I was to you… but they wouldn’t tell me anything. Tell me Karla, is that the Bureau you know so well? Did you know I didn’t get any of your death benefits for Benjamin? He’s your son, and I couldn’t get him the things that he deserved. I got nothing. In the eyes of the Bureau, I was less than nothing to you.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, I knew why Benny wouldn’t get the death benefits, since I wasn’t dead and was still drawing salary, he couldn’t get what didn’t exist, but I don’t know why my partner, Daryl Holcomb, didn’t answer Sam’s questions with the story that he knew to be in place. “I didn’t know.  If I had known, I would have taken care of it. You’re listed as my emergency contact and medical proxy, but I don’t know why you weren’t told. As for the death benefits, Benny couldn’t get what officially didn’t exist. I’ve been drawing my salary since I went into protection.” I turned to face her and took her hands in mine, “You have to believe me, if I could have spared you all of this pain and torment I would have done anything. I would, and WILL do anything for you, Daniel and Benny.”

Shuddering with her tears, she again climbed into my arms, seeking comfort for the years of pain and loneliness that she had suffered due to me.

———————————————————————————

After a heated discussion as to whether or not I did the right thing in allowing everyone to believe I was dead and a quickly prepared dinner, Sam and I put the kids down in the spare bedroom while my parents called my sisters. The boys had bonded quickly despite their age differences, Daniel had always wanted a little brother to take care of, and Benjamin already worshiped the ground on which Daniel walked; whispering to Sam as we tucked him into bed, “thanks for my new brother mommy.”

After examining the closet and under the beds for any potentially hiding monsters or boogeymen and turning on the nightlight, we returned to the living room where my sisters, who had just arrived, were sitting with my parents.

My youngest sister Ally reached me first and consumed me in a hug so tight I thought it might bruise a rib or two.  “Hey Als. How’s things been?”

She slid out of my arms and slapped my bicep. “How’s things been?” She slapped me again, getting angry, loud and starting to cry, “How’s things been?!!! You’ve been dead for four years and the first thing you say to me is ‘How’s things been?’”

Sheepishly I replied, “yeah, well there’s nothing in the FBI manual that teaches you how to reveal the fact you’re not dead to your family.” Jokingly I continued, “At least you didn’t faint like mom.”

My mom looked indignant but didn’t say anything. Becky hung back from me, “Hey Becks.” I said, our relationship has never been that close despite the fact that there was just a year between us and it had just been the two of us for five years before Ally came along.

“Glad to see you’re not dead.”

“Its good to see you too.”

——————————————————————————————-

For the fourth time that day, I found myself recounting the events leading up to my ‘miraculous’ return from the dead.  My sisters were angry and glad to see me, a strange mix of emotions had been rushing through each and every one of us today.  I was relieved that it had gone as well as it had, though I knew that it would never be the same as it was before my time away, I hoped to be able to rebuild my life with the people who cared about me and loved me.  Finally it was late and my sisters left to return to their homes, Ally embracing me again and making me promise to introduce her to Daniel before I left town.  Becky however, just gave me a perfunctory nod before heading out of the house. Either she’s far more upset than she’s letting on, or … well I don’t know why she’s being this way. Bidding my parents goodnight, I returned upstairs to my childhood room, though I didn’t have any expectations, I discovered that at some point Sam had moved her things into the room as well.  A few minutes later, she returned from the bathroom and began changing into her pajamas. Well this isn’t awkward at all. I wasn’t sure what her intentions were, was the “where do we go from here” discussion about to take place? Did I know what I wanted to happen now?

She slid into the double bed, taking her usual side, and holding the covers up for me to follow her inside their warmth. “I need you to hold me.” She whispered, “nothing else has to happen. I just … need to feel you close to me.”

Wrapping her in my arms, I nodded. “I know what you mean. It’s been a hell of a day.”  She tucked her head under my chin, burrowing into my neck and nuzzling her nose into that spot right behind my ear that she knows drives me crazy.

“Was it… were you…did….” She tried to ask me the question I knew that must have been tormenting her all day.

“Only a few dates, nothing even remotely serious. I wasn’t ready to move on. I still loved you, still love you.” I corrected myself.  “You?”

“Nobody. What with Benny, and losing you… my heart wasn’t ready.”  Sam sighed and settled in more comfortably. I could feel a layer of tension releasing from her body.

We laid there for a while longer in silence, just enjoying the feel of each other, reveling in the comfort of an old love that we had been denied for so long.  Finally I broached the topic we’d been avoiding, postponing the discussion until we were alone, both of us fearing the answers.  “So, where do we go from here? Do we start over? Jump back to where we were before? A third option?”

“I’ve wished for years that you could be there for Benny.  It’s been so hard to raise him alone. He’s my light and joy, but it’s always been bittersweet, because as much as I love him with my whole heart, I can’t help but see you every time I look at him.  It broke my heart every time he would do something that would remind me SO MUCH of you.”  She was crying again, her tears soaking through my tank top down to my skin.  “I want you to be there for Benny.  He needs you as much….” Her sobs made her almost unintelligible, she sucked in a deep breath and tried again, “He needs you as much as I need you.”  Finishing, she broke down again, sobbing and shaking uncontrollably.

I wrapped my arms tighter around her, started whispering soothing sounds and words into her hair, rubbing my hand up and down her back.  When she was calmer, I tilted her chin up to face me.  “I need you too. I want to come back home. I want to make a life with you and Benny and Daniel.  But I don’t want to rush anything.  It’s been a long time, we’ve both changed… I want to make sure we don’t… I want to be sure before jumping back to how things were. You know?”

She nodded and looked back up at me, placing a soft kiss on my lips.  A kiss full of love, of desire, a kiss that told a whole story; a tale of love lost and regained, of desires, of hope for the future, and yet a timidness as well.  Her kisses always could do amazing things to me.  That kiss told me more about what she was feeling than she was able to with words.  Responding in kind, I poured my emotions into a kiss that could take away some of her pain and show her the love that had never disappeared despite years of distance and loneliness. She moved as if to roll me on top of her. “Wait, wait.  I want to, god knows I want to, but should we rush into this? I just want to do things right. I don’t want to screw things up.”  I panted, hoping she wasn’t upset.

“You couldn’t screw this up. I love you, I need you. Its not rushing, its not like it’s the first date or anything.” She replied, continuing to kiss her way down my neck.

“But it sort of is, we’re starting afresh, aren’t we?”

She ground her teeth in frustration, “Karla, I swear to god if you don’t shut up and just…” she trailed off, her meaning clear.

“Yes ma’am.” I complied happily.

—————————————————————————————

Exhausted physically, we resumed cuddling, a thin sheen of sweat coating both of our bodies, our breaths beleaguered. “Four years is too long.” Sam panted breathlessly.

“Mmmhmm.” I couldn’t even reply with words, contented to just lay here soaking in her presence.

“So, how long until you have to report back to work?” She asked, breaking the spell of the afterglow.

“I have a month to get back into shape before my physical, but I have a psych evaluation in three weeks and my firearms proficiency after that.”

“What are your plans for … for living situation?” She asked, I could tell she was nervous as to my reply.

“I guess I had hoped that Daniel and I could move back in, but if that’s too fast, I could find an apartment somewhere nearby if that would make you more comfortable.”  I put the ball in her court, to me a house was just a house, the people in it made it home, as long as there was a place for Daniel to be safe and comfortable, I was happy.

“Well, I was just thinking, the old apartment might be kind of cramped, what with four of us living there…” She trailed off.

Understanding where she was going with this, “You’re right, I hadn’t thought of that. Maybe we should start looking for a house… would that be alright?”

“More than alright! I didn’t want to presume… that you’d…”

“Sammy baby, of course I want to buy a house with you. If things had turned out differently, we would have gotten a house back when you got pregnant with Benjamin. As much as I love that apartment, there are better school districts for the kids.”  My apartment in DC was a great find, a bank repo in the Southwest Waterfront district that I’d gotten for a song shortly after I got out of the Academy. Two bedrooms with a great view of the Titanic memorial it was in the up and coming neighborhood that had a buzzing night life and was centrally located and close enough to work that I could have walked if I wanted.  “I was hoping to stay here for a couple days and then head back to DC to let you know that I was alive, but we can stay here for a week or so and then head back and start looking.  That alright with you?”  I have a tendency to make plans without asking, a habit I cultivated during my time in the FBI, decisiveness is drummed into us from day one, but I’d learned, as Kate Blake, that other people should be able to give their input as well.  The look of surprise on Sam’s face keyed me in to exactly how commanding I had been before; guess all my touchy-feely time as Kate Blake wasn’t a waste then.

“Yeah, that’d be great. What happened to you these last four years? You’re different…”

“I spent those four years living as someone who is very different than me, some of us was bound to rub off on me.  Four years is a long time, we’ve both changed. I want to know the new you, and I want you to know the new me. We’re starting a whole new life, a new family. It’s going to take some adjustments.   But I want to make those adjustments.”

“I do too. We should get some sleep. Its been a long day, and Benny gets up early.”  Sam kissed me goodnight and then rolled to her side.

Cuddling behind her, I whispered “I love you” and closed my eyes, content in the world and my place in it.