Doing it All over

Chapter 16

Saturday, the 28th of July, 1984. Dad and I dressed in our suits and climbed into the car for the trip to Blessed Sacrament church. Mom stayed behind, her official reason being that someone had to stay with Tracy. This was only an excuse and everyone knew it. Tracy's cast had been removed and she was now able to hobble around on the braces that had been installed. She was starting physical therapy the following Monday and would no longer need an ambulance to take her places. Tracy would have been perfectly fine by herself but no one questioned Mom's decision. If anyone had, perhaps the REAL reason that she wasn't going would have come flying out of her mouth and with it, an entire can of worms. Nobody wanted that.

So we drove in silence, stifling in our suits, alone in the car. We arrived at Blessed Sacrament and were led to the bride's side of the church by an usher. Blessed Sacrament is perhaps the nicest church in the Spokane area. It is an impressive, gothic structure with expensive stained-glass windows and a towering ceiling. It has an actual belfry. Anita's wedding in my previous life, for reasons that I could not fathom, had not been held there, it had been held at a park. I wasn't much of a church going person, never had been, never would be, but I'd been inside it a few times before recycling on calls. People had a strange tendency to pass out during church services, don't ask me why, but any paramedic can attest to this. We used to joke that maybe the person was having a moment of religious doubt and a vengeful God had showed them the error of their ways in dramatic fashion.

It looked much more festive on that day than it ever had when I'd come to revive someone. Flowers were everywhere, filling the air with their perfume. An organist was playing religious hymns at soft volume, keeping everyone in the proper mood. Photographers and a man with a video camera moved here and there, snapping and filming away. The pews were about half-filled, mostly with people we didn't know. I recognized a few of the real estate agents from my trip to Anita's office and hoped that none of them would recognize me. I didn't think they would. If I'd left an impression at all on any of them it would have been as a boy bundled in a down jacket and wearing a ski hat. I doubted they would equate that image with the nicely dressed young man they saw before them now.

The ceremony began. The organist kicked up the volume a little and Jack Valentine made his entrance accompanied by his best man. They were dressed in matching tuxedos and he looked very distinguished, very worldly as he marched down the aisle and took his position near the minister.

And then Anita made her entrance. She was truly beautiful in her flowing white dress and veil, her hair done just right. Her father, I knew, was no longer a part of this Earth so in his place she was accompanied down the aisle on the arm of Ryan, her young son who was dressed cutely in a tuxedo of his own. Her maid of honor and bridesmaids trailed behind her. Her daughter held the trailing edge of her dress.

Like graduations, weddings are usually much more fun to anticipate than they are to actually witness. The minister went on and on for nearly twenty minutes about love and respect and nurturing before he got to the wedding vows. These went on for nearly ten minutes though they were admittedly well written. Another ten minutes of talking, lecturing, and praying occurred before we got to the good part; the part that ended with, "you may kiss the bride". Jack did and we moved on to part two, the reception.

Enders Hall was a large, multi-purpose building that had been designed with wedding receptions in mind. Tables were scattered throughout it with pink tablecloths adorning them and little cards with the names of the guests printed on them. A four-piece band played softly in one corner of the room.

An open bar was set up in another corner. In yet another corner was a large table where the wedding gifts were being stacked. We placed the punchbowl set that Mom had purchased on the table and then went and found our seats.

Dad got himself a beer and me a coke while I chatted with our table companions, two of Anita's co-workers, one of whom had been present the day I'd visited the office. She showed no sign of recognizing me. When she asked how I knew Anita I told her I was a neighbor that used to cut her lawn and watch her kids on occasion.

We all took our turns kissing the bride and shaking the hand of the groom. When Dad and I approached, Anita made the introductions tonelessly, without the slightest hint of what I had once been to her. As I kissed her cheek I remembered the days when I used to kiss her everywhere, when I used to make love to her on her bed, in her shower, when I used to put my head between her legs. Anita had still never been topped in the bedroom department. I knew Jack was a happy man.

"Congratulations Anita," I told her sincerely. "I'm very happy for you."

"Thank you Bill," she replied, her eyes meeting mine. "I'm very happy too."

Champagne was poured, toasts were made, the band kicked up the volume and the pace. Dancing was started. Anita danced with Jack, with Jack's best man, with her son, with several others. Finally she approached me and grabbed my hand.

"Care for a dance with the bride?" she asked lightly.

I looked at her for a moment and then said, "of course." I stood and we went to the dance floor.

We grabbed each other's hands and began to move to the music, swinging our hips. Around us, other combinations of couples were doing the same. Anita was smiling at me nervously and I wondered just why she had done this. A part of me was afraid she was going to ask me to resume our previous relationship despite her marriage.

"I haven't had a chance to talk to you," she said quietly, "since that last day. That day you came over to my house."

I nodded carefully. "I thought it best if we didn't."

"And you were right," she told me. "I wanted to tell you I was sorry for the way I acted on those last few weeks. That I'm ashamed of what I said to you, what I did, how desperate I was. Very ashamed. And I appreciate your discretion in keeping your mouth closed about it all of this time. When I look back on those times…" she shook her head sadly. "I just wanted to let you know that I understand what you did and why you did it, from the very first day we… you know, to the very last day when you had to come and explain the facts of life to me."

"You don't have to apologize or explain anything Anita," I told her. "It's me who is very sorry for doing such a sleazy thing in the first place. I've grown up since then and I'll never do that to anyone again. I'm glad you met someone to love, who loves you."

She offered me a strange smile. "Yes," she said. "Jack and I seemed meant for each other. We're very happy." A pause. "But something bothers me."

"What's that?"

"You knew his name," she said. "On our last night together, you asked me about him. You asked me by name. How did you know Bill? How did you know?"

We continued to dance while I considered my actions. "I can't tell you Anita. It's too difficult to fathom anyway. Let's just say that you and Jack were fated to be married and that I almost screwed that up by interfering. But now things are right and I'm very happy for you."

"Thank you," she said.

I led her over to the edge of the dance floor and positioned my body so that nobody could see what we were doing. I reached into the inner pocket of my suit jacket and withdrew a wrapped package. It was long and skinny, the box originally designed to hold a set of drumsticks. I handed it to her.

"What's this?" she asked, taking it.

"I was going to slip it into the wedding gifts," I said. "The card simply says it's from "fate". It's something I thought you might like to have. You can do with it what you wish of course but after talking to you, I think you deserve to get it personally."

She looked at me for a moment, her mouth open to ask another question. She closed it, the question unasked, and began to open the wrapping paper. She slid the box out and lifted the lid, peering at what I had for her. She stared for a long time, her eyes wide.

Inside the box was the coil wire I'd taken from her car on the day I lured Jack and her to the house. I don't know why I kept it. I should've just thrown it away, its job done. But I hadn't. I'd taken it out of my jacket pocket and put it in my closet until the day before.

"Is that…?" she asked slowly.

"A coil wire," I confirmed.

"Then you were the one…" she stared at me, eyes wide. "You?"

I shook my head. "Not me. Fate. And only fate Anita. Enjoy your marriage. I wish you all the best. I really do."

I walked away from her with a smile on my face, leaving her to quickly shove the coil wire back into the box and hide it. Shortly after that, Dad and I left. Anita moved away from her house after returning from her honeymoon. A rental company took over management of it. I never saw her again. But I'd achieved closure to that part of my life and that was what was important.

When we got home Mom was listening to the radio and working on some paperwork. Though she'd worked at home during her absence from her job during Tracy's recuperation, she was apparently still far behind. Rarely did we see her without a sheaf of papers and computer printouts before her. She asked us about the ceremony and seemed genuinely interested in our answers. I asked where Tracy was, since I had not seen her in her room, and was told that she was in the back yard, practicing her walking.

I went upstairs and changed out of my suit, replacing it with a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. By the time I finished and emerged from my room, Mom and Dad were both missing, their bedroom door tightly shut. Like most kids I pained myself not to speculate too much on just what they were doing in there but like most adults I realized the effect that attending weddings tended to have. I was feeling such an effect myself.

I gave Nina a call, hoping we could get together for a bit but this idea was shot down the instant I got her on the phone. An aunt from Moses Lake was visiting for the day, had come specifically to see Nina and give her a late graduation gift. Nina was trapped at home for the foreseeable future. With a sigh I helped myself to one of my Dad's beers and wandered out to the back yard where Tracy was before I was forced to hear any noise drifting out of Mom and Dad's room.

Our back yard was typical for the period in which our house was built. Considerably larger than what tract houses come with today, it was landscaped with the bare essentials. There was a large lawn, an elm tree that was large enough to climb in if you wished (and that dumped an incredible amount of leaves to the ground each fall), some brick flowerbeds that my mother had rose bushes planted and growing wild in. There was a small cement patio with a cover over it. A barbecue and some simple patio furniture sat upon it. Dad had often talked about installing a swimming pool and a hot tub but had never become quite financially irresponsible enough to actually do it. A pity.

Tracy was wearing a college T-shirt and a pair of shorts. Her right leg was clamped into a set of metal braces that looked like something out of the Spanish Inquisition. A large, metal cane apparatus was attached to her right arm and helped support her weight as she ambled along. She was dripping sweat, her face running with it, her T-shirt stained with it, and her face was scrunched in a painful expression as she hobbled in what appeared to be a circular course around the old elm tree where Mike and I had once built a tree-fort thirty feet above the ground.

"How's it going Trace?" I asked her, grabbing a seat at the table and setting my beer down next to a glass of ice water that Tracy had put there. A fly had fallen into the water and was struggling weakly between two ice cubes.

"Hey," she hailed, changing course immediately and heading my way. "This hurts like hell. But not as much as when I first tried it. I'm getting better I think. But I'm ready for a break now. More than ready." She wiped sweat from her brow, moving her damp hair from her forehead. "How was the wedding?"

"Boring," I answered, "like all weddings. But I was glad to go. It's nice to see that Anita is happy. We also had a chance to have a little talk."

"Oh?" she said, hobbling over and sitting down, unclipping her cane and putting it aside. It slid down the length of the chair and clattered to the cement loudly. She gave it an irritated look and then chose to ignore it. She reached for her glass and spotted the fly. Her face wrinkled in disgust. "Gross," she declared.

"I'll get you some fresh water," I offered, standing up and picking up the glass.

"I'd rather have one of those beers," she told me.

"Have this one." I slid mine across the table to her. By the time I returned from the kitchen with a fresh one for myself, half of it was already empty. By the time I finished telling her about the wedding and my conversation with Anita, it was completely empty.

She burped in an unladylike way. "So you actually gave her back the coil wire you took?" she asked me wonderingly. "Why did you do that?"

"I don't know," I said. "I don't even know why I kept the thing in the first place. Some impulse."

"Impulse huh?" she smiled cynically. "I think you just like to be dramatic."

I didn't dispute that this might be the reason. We sat in silence for a minute or two, watching the butterflies attacking Mom's roses.

"So will you be ready to go back to school in September?" I enquired.

"I'm going whether I'm ready or not," she said firmly, with determination. "I need to get back on track if I'm going to get my undergraduate degree in three years."

I nodded. "That's what Nina's intending to do too. I'm gonna give it a shot, after all, most of the general Ed classes should be pretty easy, but I'll also be working. If it's too much, I'll drop back on the pace a little."

"Not me," Tracy said. "Full steam ahead for me. I plan to take the BAR exam in 1989, 1990 at the latest."

I shrugged. "I wouldn't worry. Corporate America will still be there whenever you finish."

She looked at me for a moment, her face serious. She picked up her beer bottle as if to take a drink and then saw it was empty. She set it back down. I was about to go get her another when she said, "I'm going to change my focus off of business and corporate law."

"To what?"

She sighed. "I've had a lot of time to think while I've been recuperating from this. More time than I've ever wanted. What the hell else is there to do? I've been thinking about fate and consequences and free will and drunk cab drivers." She shook her head angrily. "And it's the drunk cab driver that keeps coming back to me. He was out there driving a goddam cab after two DUIs. He was licensed both by the State of Nevada and the State of California to do that. For what he did to me he's getting ninety days in jail. Ninety fucking days Bill! What kind of shit is that?"

"It's just life, fate, the American way?" I answered. "Whatever you want to call it. I'm just glad you lived through it, that you're still here to bitch about the injustice of it."

"Fuck that," she said. "Fuck fate and fuck everything. That asshole should NOT have been driving anything, especially not a taxi. Our system allowed this to happen and it's wrong. It's wrong!"

"Yes," I agreed, "it is."

"So I'm going to focus on criminal law," she said. "I want to try and put some of these assholes in jail. I want to do everything I can to try to stop things like this, or worse things, things like what was SUPPOSED to be, from happening time and time again. Not just drunk driving, although that will have special attention from me, but every other crime that's under-treated by the system, that's allowed to perpetuate itself because of apathy."

I felt a chill going up my spine as she spoke. She was talking about becoming a victim's rights advocate. Did she realize this? There were ramifications here, serious ones. I took a long drink of my beer. "That's uh…, very uh…, noble Trace," I managed to say.

"I've had a life-changing experience," she said softly. "I'm still alive when I should be dead, even after having the accident I was fated to have." She looked at me. "I can see that some of the thoughts I've been having about fate are occurring to you too."

She did realize the ramifications. No slouch was my sister. "Sometimes," I said, "this whole thing just scares the crap out of me. Before I came back I was pretty much an atheist. I didn't believe in anything. But now, I'm forced to concede that SOMETHING is at work behind the scenes here. I don't know if it's the Christian God, or Allah, or Buddha, or something that nobody has even conceived of before, but there is a definite power at work here."

She nodded. "I know what you mean. When I decided to go into criminal law and to fight for victims, when I actually DECIDED that, it was almost like I felt something click, like I felt some gears that had been out of alignment sliding back in. I imagine I'll be doing whatever it was that Mom and Dad were supposed to do but didn't, or won't be I should say. I feel like things are, if not exactly RIGHT, at least copacetic. The accident has happened and as a result of it someone is getting involved in victim's rights. The stress on the system is releived."

"So you should be reasonably safe?" I asked.

She chuckled a little. "I still won't be getting into any cars with drunk drivers if it's all the same to you, but yeah, I feel like I'm safe."

We watched the butterflies for a few minutes, me finishing off my beer.

"What about Mike?" I asked her. "He's on a completely different path, so am I for that matter. Anita is back where she should be, Nina is still going to be an emergency room doc, albeit a decidedly less bitchy one, so there's no great stress on the system in those cases. But what about Mike and I?"

She thought for a moment. "Well, like I told you before, I believe that fate is nodal, which means that the longer the insult to it has gone on, the more likely it is that it will be tolerated. I think the evidence we've seen so far seems to confirm that theory. From what you've told me, Mike is completely off of his former track. He doesn't even smoke grass anymore. Like you said, he's matured to the point that he's no longer capable of making the mistake that led to his former life. He's graduated from school, he's signed up for college classes, he has a job, he has a girlfriend. Fate has apparently accepted the new Mike and allowed for him. It probably would have done the same in my case eventually but I was a much stronger stress to the system and stumbled into the right set of circumstances. Fate seized the chance to correct things. The accident relieved the stress on the system as well as it could without actually killing me."

"And me?" I asked. "What about me? I must've stressed the shit out of the system. I'm not in the career I'm supposed to be in, I'm not marrying the person I'm supposed to, I'm not having the child I'm supposed to, and, if all goes well, I will be much wealthier than I'm supposed to be. How does all that fit in?"

She rubbed her ribcage a little, massaging away the tenderness that still plagued her from the accident. "You're a special case," she said.

"How so?"

"You've never had any inclinations at all to stray back onto your previous path, have you?"

"No," I said. "None."

"No strange urges to go to paramedic school, to major in history in college, to dump Nina and go find, what was her name?"

"Lisa," I answered. "And no, nothing like that."

She nodded thoughtfully. "I believe that you probably stressed the system so badly and so rapidly just by the mere fact that you came back to 1982 with your knowledge intact, that it was forced to simply accept your presence. In effect, it simply gave up on trying to divert you since it was basically hopeless. It could try to divert the other paths that you intersected, but not you. It wouldn't be possible for you to deliberately make all of the same twists and turns along your way, particularly when the consequences were unpleasant."

"That makes sense," I told her, marveling at her insight into this metaphysical subject. "It makes a lot of sense."

"Has it ever occurred to you," she asked, "that this might not be your first trip back to 1982 and beyond?"

"What?"

"Didn't think of that, did you?" she smiled. "You were fated to meet the old man on that day, the day before you came back. What was it you said to him when he asked what your greatest wish was?"

"To be fifteen again, knowing what I know now," I answered, not quite getting her.

"Suppose you hadn't answered that way," she suggested. "Suppose you'd simply answered, "to be fifteen again", leaving out the last part. That's a perfectly natural response to that question under those circumstances, wouldn't you say? In fact, adding the last part is a little bit strange if you think about it. So suppose you did just say, "fifteen again". Boom, you would've found yourself a teenager again with no idea of your former life, with no knowledge of your future mistakes or my impending death."

Another shiver went up my spine as I considered this. It was a frightening thing she was suggesting.

"You would have caused absolutely zero stress to the system," Tracy went on, "and you simply would have continued along as before; marrying Lisa, grieving for me, having Becky, getting divorced; until eventually you would have come to the convalescent home and the old man again with nothing changed. You would have responded the same way and been sent right back again, starting over. For all we know, you might've been doing the same seventeen year stretch of your life over and over again for the past ten thousand years."

Frightening became staggering as I envisioned my poor self endlessly living through the same events, some of them quite tragic, over and over again without memory of it each time. Was such a thing possible? Of course it was. At least as possible as Mr. Li sending me back in the first place.

"Wow," I said softly. "But why would this time have been different?"

"Maybe there are little things that fate can't control," she answered. "Maybe some part of you was aware of what was happening, some part buried deep in your subconscious and it caused that little add-on to slip out at the moment of truth. The cycle gets broken. You could also have wished for world peace or a million bucks or something like that. Thankfully for me, if that's what the case is, you didn't. You added, "knowing what I know now". That's what made everything possible. You get to move on past 1999 now."

"That's a truly bizarre and terrifying thought," I told her, trying to shake off the feelings that this discussion had given me. Leave it to Tracy to make you think that you might be ten or twenty thousand years old and had barely escaped from some eternal feedback look in the time-space continuum by the addition of five little words on the end of a sentence. "Well, if it's true and I'm free at last, at least I'll finally get to see how all the Y2K crap is going to come out."

She looked at me strangely. "Y2K?"

"It's not important," I said. "Just be sure to keep your computer system updated come the late nineties."

She seemed about to say something else but didn't. We watched the butterflies again.

"Where are Mom and Dad anyway?" she asked me. "Dad usually comes to check on me fifty or sixty times a day."

I gave a sour look. "They're uh…, in their bedroom."

"In their bedroom? Doing what?"

I gave her the look that one gives someone when they've asked an incredibly stupid question. "Well I don't know Tracy, they didn't clear their itinerary with me. But the door is closed."

A comical expression of disgust came across her face. "Oh my God, you mean…," she shook her head violently. "I'm not gonna think about this. I'm changing the subject. How's Nina?"

I grinned, amused by her discomfort. "Nina's fine except for being trapped at home by an aunt. As a matter of fact I wanted to talk to you about that very subject."

"Oh?"

"I bought her an engagement ring."

Tracy registered absolutely no surprise at this revelation. "Is it a nice one?" she asked.

"Reasonably," I assured her.

"When are you going to offer it to her?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," I said. "I need a good, female perspective on this. You see, the first time I got married, you know, before, there was no proposal. We simply decided it made good financial sense."

"That's sad," my sister commented.

"Yeah," I replied, "it was. Lisa didn't get an engagement ring until about six months after we were married. She only wanted it because her wedding ring looked "lonesome" without one. So we went down to a jewelry shop together, bought one with our joint checking account, and had it soldered on. Not very romantic."

"No," Tracy agreed wholeheartedly.

"I want this to be different. I want it to be something she'll always remember, something she'll tell her friends, our kids, our grandkids about. Do you see?"

She was beaming. "Oh yes," she replied, "I know exactly what you're talking about. Let me think." She thought for a minute. "Well of course you simply have to drop the ring into a glass of champagne."

"A glass of champagne?" I asked, wondering if Tracy's perspective was the right one to tap after all. "Isn't that cliche?"

"No," she said firmly, "it's what we all want. Trust me."

"I'll give it some thought," I said doubtfully.

"But for the set-up for it," she said next, "consider this: A hot-air balloon ride."

That actually sounded a little more interesting. "Go on."

"They have champagne balloon rides outside Coeur d' Alene. You can book private flights where there's only the pilot. When you break out the champagne up at six thousand feet, you can make that your moment." She shivered a little as she considered it. "That would be the ultimate."

The balloon thing seemed like a good idea at first and I mulled it over for the rest of the day. I considered things like whether or not Nina was afraid of heights (I'd never bothered to ask her this), whether the presence of the balloon pilot would intrude upon the atmosphere of the occasion, and what would happen if I accidentally dropped the ring out of the balloon from six thousand feet over some farmer's back forty. I decided that more research was in order.

The next day Nina, Mike, Maggie, and myself went on another ski trip, this time to Coeur d' Alene Lake which, while smaller than Pend Oreille was considerably closer. I managed to get Maggie to myself for a little bit about halfway through the day, while Mike was dozing on a picnic blanket and Nina was off trying find a private place to pee. I posed my question to her as we waded in waist-deep water near the beached boat, drinking cans of beer.

"You're gonna ask her to marry you?" she squealed happily.

"Christ Maggie," I scolded, "you think maybe you could yell it a little louder? The people on the golf course across the lake didn't quite understand you."

"Sorry," she said, "but it's so exciting. Congratulations." She stepped forward and gave me a hug, allowing her wet, bikini-clad breasts to push into my bare chest. There was no overt sexuality behind it, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't pleasurable.

"So what do you think?" I asked her once we'd broken apart. "What's the most romantic proposal scheme you can come up with?"

She smiled sexily. "Well, a traditionalist would suggest putting the ring in a glass of champagne."

"Again with the champagne," I muttered.

"But I'm not a traditionalist," she continued. "I think the best way would be to take her out to a nice dinner in a romantic restaurant. You know, a dressy place with wine and a snooty maitre 'd and all that. Order some expensive food, some expensive wine, set up the mood. But don't give her the ring there."

"Not there?"

"No," she shook her head, "that's just the set-up. After dinner, you find someplace to be alone. You know, ALONE?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Then you start kissing her. You kiss her lips, her cheeks, you nibble on her ears, you kiss your way down her shoulder and across her arm. Ideally she would have on a strapless dress for this occasion. If you could arrange that, so much the better."

"Of course."

"So, anyway, you continue down her arm, just kissing and making her generally hot." She gave me a knowing look, "I KNOW you know how to do that.

When you make it to her hand, her left hand, you surreptitiously remove the ring from your pocket or whatever and slip it into your mouth. You kiss her fingers and then take the ring finger and start sucking on it. Then, using only your mouth, you put the ring on her finger." She sighed as she thought about this. Uncomfortably, I could see that her nipples had hardened. "What do you think?"

"What do I think?" I asked, "that gave me a hard-on just hearing you tell about it."

"So it's a good idea?"

"I'll consider it," I told her. "I'm not sure that's quite right for Nina, but I'll mull it over."

"You do that," she said. "Trust me on this. It'll be erotic beyond belief.

She'll remember it forever."

Just then Nina came tromping back out of the woods beside the lake. We hushed up our conversation and Maggie said, "I'm gonna go wake up Mike. After that conversation I'm gonna have to have someone go with me when I pee, if you know what I mean."

She headed out of the water, flashing Nina a pleasant grin. A minute later her and Mike had disappeared the way Nina had come. But that was okay. We found something to occupy ourselves with while they were gone.

The next day at work I brought the question up to Mindy. Since my days there were numbered, Mindy was pretty much letting me get away with whatever I wanted. She encouraged me to come in late (which I never did), to leave early (which I sometimes did) and to take long breaks. When I told her what my intentions were and asked her for advice on the matter, she took me aside and talked to me for more than thirty minutes on the subjects of women, romance, intrigue, mystery, and various other topics. She gave me no actual suggestions but listened carefully to those that I'd already received. After talking to her I was able to formulate a plan that incorporated elements of both Maggie's and Tracy's suggestions.

The next day I went to work on the plan. The first step was to talk to Nina. I gave her a call and asked her if maybe she was up for a nice dinner on the following Saturday night.

"A nice dinner?" she asked. "How nice? Would I have to dress up?"

"Yes," I told her. "That dress you wore to the play would be appropriate. So what do you say?"

"Where did you have in mind?" she wanted to know.

"You'll see it when you get there," I said cryptically. "So are you in?"

"I'm in."

When I hung up I began making phone calls, referring to a list I'd made after considerable research. I made the necessary arrangements, writing everything down so I wouldn't forget it. The final phone number was one that did not involve research. It was here where everything could fall apart. But it didn't. The recipient of this phone call was more than happy to help me out, especially after I told him what my intentions were.

I hung up the phone with a smile. Everything was in place. Well, almost everything. I went to see Dad.

"I need you to cash out some more stocks for me," I told him.

He nodded, taking a sip out of his coffee. "It'll be nice when you're finally eighteen and able to cash out your own damn stocks," he said good-naturedly. "How much?"

I told him.

"That much?" He asked, surprised.

I told him what it was for and he smiled.

"I'll do it today," he told me.

Saturday, September 3, 1984. A day that will live in infamy.

I woke up early, very early, six o'clock in the morning type of early and was unable to sleep any more. My date with Nina was still nearly nine hours away, the moment of truth considerably more than that, but I knew there would be no more sleep for me. I drug myself out of bed and went downstairs to watch some television. I knew the day was going to drag on like nothing I'd ever experienced before.

I was right of course. I spent much of it lounging around in my shorts, watching television, picking at my breakfast and my lunch. I talked with Tracy, with my Mom, with my Dad, all of whom were in on my intentions. They made comment after comment about my nervousness. I denied that I was nervous but knew that I was lying.

At about two-thirty, absurdly early, I began getting ready. I took a shower, washing myself thoroughly. I dressed myself in my best suit, fixing my tie so it was just right. And then I waited for it to be four o'clock, time to go pick up Nina.

I restrained myself from leaving the house early. It would have screwed up the schedule I'd carefully planned. Finally I made one last check of my possessions to make sure I had everything I needed. I had the ring, I had the roll of twenty dollar bills that was so thick it looked like a pimp's flash money. My family wished me good luck and I headed out the door, climbing into my faithful Datsun and heading off to Nina's house.

Jack and Mary met me at the door, inviting me in. Nina was nowhere to be seen.

"She's putting the finishing touches on," Mary told me, offering me a seat. The interrogation began.

"Kind of early for a simple fancy dinner," Nina's mom commented, handing me a glass of iced tea that I hadn't asked for.

"We'll probably be out for a while," I told her, sipping out of it.

"This date wouldn't have anything to do with that little present you showed Jack on the fishing trip now, would it?" Mary asked pointedly.

"Mary…" Jack started but was silenced by a sharp glance from her.

I licked my lips nervously, unable to think of an answer.

"Does it?" she persisted.

"Yes," I answered. "It does. It has everything to do with that. I'm going to ask your daughter to marry me tonight."

She stared hard at me for a moment and then her face softened a little. "Do you have something special planned? Something she'll remember?"

I looked down the hallway toward Nina's room, seeing that the door was still shut. I gave Mary a brief summary of what I had planned, leaving one part out of course. Mary listened to me carefully, her eyes boring into me.

"That's very romantic," she finally said, her face breaking into a smile. "Can I see the ring?"

Another quick glance and I pulled the ring, free of its box, from the inner pocket of my jacket. She stood and sat next to me on the couch, taking it from my hand. She appraised it for a moment, looking at the gold band, the diamond protruding. She nodded, handing it back to me. I returned it to its hiding place.

Mary continued to stare at me for a moment. "You know how I used to feel about you Bill," she said. "We won't rehash that. But I'm glad to find, after getting to know you, that I was wrong. As wrong as a person could be.

I wish you luck tonight and I'd like to be the first to tell you, welcome to our family." She leaned forward and gave me a hug. Surprised, I returned it.

"Of course you won't do anything stupid, like eloping, will you?" This was more a command than a question.

"No," I said quickly. "I promise."

"Good," she said, a tear coming down from her left eye. "Because I want Nina to have a big wedding with lots of guests. I want to help her plan it, I want to help her make out a guest list. You'll let me do that, won't you?" More tears were coming down now.

"I promise Mary," I told her, giving her another hug. "We'll get married in Spokane and we'll let you plan it. I promise."

"Thank you."

"Of course this whole discussion is meaningless if Nina tells me no," I put in.

Mary broke the embrace and looked at me in much the same way I'd looked at Tracy when she'd asked what Mom and Dad were doing in their room. "You don't really think that's a concern, do you?"

Mary had herself under control and Nina sensed nothing amiss when she emerged from her bedroom a few minutes later. She was not wearing the dress she'd worn to the play but an entirely new one, a dark blue and white one. It was not strapless, as Maggie had suggested it be, but that was not important. She looked ravishing in it.

"You look VERY nice," I told her, standing up and giving her a hug and kiss.

I took a quick look at her left ring finger, which was bare at that moment but would hopefully be adorned with my ring later that evening. "New dress?"

"Mom helped me pick it out," she affirmed. "You look very nice too. So where are we going?" The anticipation was killing her.

"You'll see," I said. "I think you'll like it."

We said our good-byes to the elder Blackmores. Mary, I could tell, was stifling tears as we left. Nina noticed this too and asked her mother what was wrong.

"Nothing dear," she said. "It just pains me sometimes to see how grown-up you've become. When you wear a fancy dress like that it hits me hard."

I held the car door open for her and then stepped around to my side, strapping in and firing up the little four-cylinder engine. I pulled away from the curb and headed for the freeway.

"Mom is so weird sometimes," Nina commented.

We made idle chitchat until I hit the freeway onramp. I'm sure that Nina was expecting me to head for downtown. I didn't, instead taking the opposite direction. She looked at me suspiciously.

"Bill, where are you going?" she asked. "Why are you being so mysterious?"

"I'm a mysterious person," I told her, refusing to say further.

It took us about ten minutes to get to our first destination. By the time I pulled in the front gate it was apparent to Nina where we were going.

"Why are we at the airport?" she wanted to know. "What's going on? Bill, tell me!"

"Well," I said, pulling into the parking lot of the private airfield and stopping. "I wanted to take you someplace REALLY nice. Nicer than we have in Spokane. In order to avoid a long drive, I enlisted the services of a family friend."

"We're getting on an airplane?" she asked.

"For a bit," I allowed. "He's the same guy that flew me and your Dad to Seattle. You're not afraid to fly, are you?"

"I've never done it before," she said. "Where are we flying to?"

"Seattle," I said, "All the nice places are there. I have reservations for us at what is reputed to be the nicest restaurant in the entire state of Washington. I will get you there, wine and dine you, and have you safely back in your own bed tonight."

"We're going to Seattle?" she said in disbelief. "What's the occasion?"

"Just because I love you Babe," I told her, calling her by that term of endearment for the first time. "Just because I love you."

Ron had of course been the unpredictable part of my plan. Would he volunteer to fly us there and back? Would he be free to do so? The last thing I wanted to do was impose upon a family friendship and make someone do something they didn't want to. But to my delight, he'd jumped upon the suggestion, especially when I'd told him my intentions. He'd offered to stand by at the airport until the next morning if that was required. I'd gratefully accepted and told him that a few hours should be all that was required. We'd talked over his portion of the plan and, once briefed in, he'd proved to be a godsend. His experience as a pilot had allowed me to time everything down to the minute. He also had some connections in Seattle that helped save me some money for phase two. When Nina and I walked across the tarmac, past rows of Cessna's and Pipers and the occasional Lear, we found him waiting beside the plane, its engine on, its propeller turning, its pre-flight check already completed, the flight plan already filed.

Introductions were made and Ron told Nina how lovely she looked and how much he'd enjoyed her father's company. He soothed her nervousness about the small plane, speaking loudly over the noise of the engine. He offered her the co-pilot's seat and helped her inside after I'd been stowed in the back.

Less than five minutes after my car had pulled into the parking lot we were taxing across the field. Less than five minutes after that, Ron, ignoring me completely, asked Nina, "you ready?"

"I think so," she answered nervously.

"Then push that throttle all the way to the front. Do it slowly so we don't stall the engine."

Nina reached out with a hand that was trembling slightly and grasped the throttle lever. She pushed it forward as instructed and the engine wound up to full. The plane began to move down the runway, moving faster and faster.

When it got to take-off speed Ron pulled smoothly back on the stick and we rose into the air, an audible bump sounding as the wheels broke contact with the ground.

We soared into the bright blue sky, Ron turning the plane until we were heading West. He took us up to our assigned altitude of seven thousand, three hundred feet, leveling us off and engaging the autopilot. By the time he did this Nina had lost her fear and was staring at the ground with awe, picking out sights that she recognized.

"There's the falls Bill," she told me, pointing. "And there's the river stretching off. I never knew it was that crooked before."

Ron kept silent as we plowed westward at a hundred and ten knots. Nina kept looking at the ground. I sat back and thought about all the things that could go wrong with this day and all the things that could go right.

Nina turned to me and said, "How are we getting from the airport to the restaurant?"

"You'll see," I told her.

About halfway to Seattle, just as the Cascades were starting to become visible in the distance, Ron checked his watch and concluded that we were a little ahead of schedule. He cited a tailwind as the reason.

"Care for a little flying lesson Nina?" he asked, winking.

"Why the hell not?" she replied with determination.

Now it was my turn to be terrified as Nina took the stick and, with Ron's instruction, began subjecting us to a series of turns and dives in the clear air. He'd done this with me before, back when I was about fourteen or so, and I knew it was basically harmless. But still… My stomach knotted as we moved up and down, left and right, as the horizon bobbed like it had on the fishing boat while Nina tried to get the feel of the rudder and the stick. She was almost as terrified as I was but definitely loving every minute of it. Her face showed nearly the same ecstasy as it had when I'd eaten her to orgasm. At one point she over-corrected for a bank, giving way too much left aileron. I thought I was about to die a horrible death for a few moments as I found myself looking out my side window directly at the ground. Nina, almost panicked, jerked her hands from the stick and screamed. But Ron, calm and cool, without the slightest bit of concern, simply chuckled and took the controls. Within four seconds he had us straight and level once more.

"Well that was exciting, wasn't it?" he asked us.

Both of us were trembling too badly to speak.

He played with the autopilot for a moment and then we were back on course. "Time's a wastin'," he said. "We'd better end our lessons for now and get ourselves to Seattle."

Once again the air over the Cascades bumped us around violently. It was like driving a car with old shocks across a four-wheel drive trail at sixty miles an hour. Neither Nina nor I got much more than a mild adrenaline rush from it. Nina's time at the stick had prepared us for anything and the serene expression on Ron's face soothed our nerves.

We circled in and landed with a thump at a small airport near downtown. Ron taxied the plane to the tarmac and parked it in a slot that had been assigned to him over the radio. No sooner had the engine been shut down and the doors opened up when phase two happened right on schedule. A sleek, white limousine came gliding in from the parking area. It circled around and stopped right next to the plane.

"Bill," Nina asked, her eyes shining. "Is that for us?"

"Yes," I affirmed. "They have nice taxis in Seattle, don't they?"

"I've never ridden in a limo before," she told me as the driver, an older man dressed in a white uniform, got out and stood by the back doors. "Bill, you can't afford this."

"Not as a regular means of transportation I can't," I allowed. "But for this one day, don't worry. I can cover it. Don't fret about money today, okay?"

She hugged me quickly. "This is like a dream-date."

"Is it?" I asked, giving her a quick kiss. "Why don't you go hop inside? I'll be there in a minute."

She did so. The limo driver smiled, introduced himself to her, and opened the door. While she got in and began gawking at the interior, I turned to Ron and thanked him. I gave him some money for the landing fee and for fuel. He didn't want to take it from me but I finally won the battle of insistence.

"What are you going to do while we're gone?" I asked him.

He shrugged, "Probably hang out in the pilot's lounge. Watch some TV, read some magazines, talk to other pilots. Don't worry about me. You just go out and have yourself a good time. I'll be here when you get back, no matter what time that is."

"Thanks Ron," I told him. "I owe you two now."

The driver introduced himself as Paul. He shook my hand and then politely brought up the subject of the bill. He ordinarily wouldn't have done that I was sure, but he was probably a little concerned about my age. Understandable I guess. I peeled off the required amount from my pimp's wad and handed it across to him. He at least had the class not to count it in front of me, simply pocketing it instead.

"I understand we're going to Fullers at the Sheraton, is that correct sir?" he asked me.

"That's correct," I answered.

"And that I'm to pick you up at ten o'clock out front?"

"Again, correct."

"Very good Sir," he said, opening the door for me.

"Hey, uh, Paul," I asked, "what is it that you do while you're waiting for ten o'clock to roll around?"

He looked at me strangely. I wondered if anyone had ever asked him that before. "Well usually I just go find something to amuse myself," he told me. "Sometimes I go home if I'm nearby. I go get gas, I go take care of errands. I'm on hire for the customer so I can't assign myself to another customer, although if the boss could figure out the timing you could bet he'd give it a shot."

"So basically you have nothing to do?"

"Right."

I peeled off two more twenties from my wad and handed it to him. He looked surprised although he didn't hesitate to take the offering and make it disappear.

"When you drop us off at Fullers," I told him, "come back here and pick up Ron there." I pointed to Ron, who was fiddling with something inside the cockpit of the plane. "Take him anywhere he wants to go and then bring him back here when he wants to come back."

"Of course sir," the driver nodded.

I sat down in the back of the car, next to Nina and Paul closed the door on us. The inside of the limo was nice, with plush seats, a small mini-bar complete with ice bucket, a stereo system, and a bank of controls that moved the seats back and forth and the sunroof and windows up and down. Nina was playing with these controls like a little kid, her eyes shining with excitement.

"I can't believe all this," she told me, giving me another hug. "Sometimes you are just too much."

"I hope not," I mumbled, pulling two glasses from the bar. "Would you care for a drink?"

"I'd love one," she answered. Meanwhile Paul had buckled himself in and was putting the car in gear. We pulled away from the tarmac and started heading for the street.

"What would you like?" I asked.

She smiled, "Surprise me."

I made us a couple of seven and sevens and we sipped from them as we drove along the major arteries and into downtown Seattle. We cruised between large high-rises, catching occasional glimpses of the blue-gray water of Puget Sound. We saw the distinctive outline of the Space Needle poking up into the sky far to our north. We watched the occupants of cars around us and pedestrians on the downtown streets trying to stare into the tinted back windows of the limo, to spot who we were. We held hands and leaned against each other, feeling closeness, feeling love. My doubts about the outcome of the evening began to drift away.

The Seattle Sheraton, where Fullers is located, is a thirty-five story building about six blocks from the waterfront, right in the heart of downtown. Our limo received no notice as Paul drove it into the turnaround near the front lobby entrance. There were several other limos already there. He hopped out and rushed around to open our door for us. We stepped out, leaving our glasses behind and thanked him. He nodded politely and told us he would see us at ten.

"Ten?" Nina asked, looking at me knowingly. "Why ten? How long does it take to have dinner in this joint?"

"Not that long," I answered. We began walking towards the lobby doors.

"So what else have you got planned?"

"You'll see," I told her.

The lobby alone was enough to make Nina and I, both middle-class products, feel slightly out of our element. It was spacious and seemed to ooze class.

Well-dressed men and women walked to and fro amid well-dressed hotel staff. We moved quickly to the elevators.

We rode up to the thirty-fifth floor and stepped out, following the signs to Fullers. The maitre d' was almost a stereotype of what you see in bad movies. He had it all, the balding head, the snooty French accent, the little mustache. I found myself wondering if it was all an act because that was what people expected to see when coming to such a place. Maybe he went home each night and ripped off the little mustache and then talked to his wife in a Texas accent or something. He eyed the two of doubtfully as we approached his little table.

"May I help you?" he asked, not terribly politely.

"Yes you may," I told him. "We have reservations for two for Stevens at seven o'clock."

"Well let's check into that," he told me, giving a condescending smile. He perused his book for a moment. "Oh yes, Mr. Stevens." He tapped it with his pencil. Without even bothering to check his seating chart he said, "unfortunately your table is not quite ready yet. It may be a few minutes. Perhaps you'd like to wait in the bar?"

I smiled, a very adult smile, staring into his face. I reached into my jacket and withdrew two twenties which I slid into his palm. "I would prefer to be seated immediately," I told him, "at a table with a view."

He glanced down at what I'd pressed into his palm and his expression changed instantly to one of respect. "Of course Mr. Stevens," he told me, picking up two menus. "If you and your guest would follow me please?"

It was amazing what a forty-dollar bribe got you. We were placed at a secluded table next to the large picture window. Puget Sound was plainly visible, as was the sinking sun. Sailboats and motor boats, and a large freighter could be seen moving across the surface of the water. The table was covered with a tasteful white cloth. Two candles burned near the center next to a complimentary plate of goose-liver pate and crackers. Our seats were held out for us and we sat down. We were assured that our waiter would be right with us.

"How did you know to give him money?" Nina asked me, trying a bit of the pate after putting her napkin in her lap.

"Universal language," I told her. "If I wouldn't have given him something we would have sat in the bar until about eight or eight-thirty before being sent to a seat near the kitchen door and receiving horrible service from the waiter all night. By now, the maitre d' is telling the waiter that I know the rules. I imagine the service will be pretty good."

Nina shook her head in amazement. "Why can't everyone just do their jobs like they're supposed to, without worrying about the money?"

"What are you?" I said lightly. "Some kind of communist? Everyone do their jobs without worrying about money? That's un-American."

As predicted, the waiter arrived promptly and was so polite it was almost sickening. He read off the house specialties to us and named the market price for such things as the lobster or Alaskan king crab. He asked us if there was anything he could get for us while we perused the menu.

"Yes," I told him, nodding. "We'd like a bottle of Inglenook Cabernet Sauvignon."

He looked at me for a moment, giving a little cough. "Begging your pardon sir," he said quietly, "but I'm sure you're aware that the legal drinking age in Washington is twenty-one. You don't exactly look that old."

I smiled, reaching into my wad and pulling out a twenty. "I assure you I'm of age," I explained, slipping him the twenty. "Here's my identification."

He took a look at the denomination for a moment and then nodded, slipping it into his pocket. "Thank you sir, everything appears to be in order."

When he left Nina asked me, "just how many of those twenties do you have anyway?"

"Enough," I answered.

The dinner was excellent. I decided to go for broke and had the live Maine lobster. Nina, after several reassurances not to worry about the price, went with that also. We sipped our Cabernet throughout, putting a respectable dent in the bottle. We talked between bites about anything and everything; the ease of conversation had always been the strong point between Nina and I. Just after the dinner dishes were removed I stood up and excused myself, telling Nina I needed to use the facilities.

It took me less than a minute to find our waiter. He had just carried someone's MasterCard to the cashier and was waiting for it to go through.

"Excuse me," I said to him.

He looked up at me questioningly. "Is everything all right sir?"

"Perfect," I assured him. "But I was wondering if you could do me a little favor?"

We talked for a moment and I handed him Nina's engagement ring along with another twenty-dollar bill. He agreed to do as I asked.

I returned to the table where Nina was watching the sunglow against the offshore clouds. She commented on how pretty it was.

"Yes," I told her, reaching across and taking her hand, "it's nice this time of year here. Of course we're probably going to hate it during the winter, spring, and fall."

"Maybe," she said, going back to her examination of the water and the sky.

The waiter came a moment later carrying a dark green bottle and two glasses.

He set the glasses down before us and then showed me the bottle he had. It was Dom Perignon and it would add sixty-eight dollars to the bill. I nodded.

"What's this?" Nina asked as the waiter made a show of putting the bottle down and popping open the cork.

"I thought a little champagne would be nice," I explained.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" she asked brightly, letting me know that she wasn't adverse to that if that was my intention.

"Something like that," I nodded.

He poured a dab of the champagne in my glass and then stood by, waiting for me to complete the ritual of tasting it. Where did this ritual start anyway? Had anyone ever tasted the wine or whatever and then said, "this swill tastes like shit, take it away"? I was sure that somewhere, someone had done that. I picked up the glass, actually quite curious as to how Dom Perignon would taste since I'd never had it before. To my disappointment it tasted only slightly better than Brut, which sold for two bucks a bottle. Oh well, the champagne wasn't there to taste good. I nodded my approval of it and he picked up my glass to pour it full.

After setting my glass of bubbling champagne down he picked up Nina's. He had obviously done such a thing before. He was so smooth about it that even I didn't see him slip the ring into the glass before he poured. For a moment I actually thought he was ripping me off, that he'd look puzzled when I asked him where the ring was. Ring? What ring? You didn't give me a ring. But when he set the glass down before her, there it was, sitting on the bottom, little bubbles clinging to the gold band and the diamond. Nina didn't notice it.

The waiter put the bottle into an ice bucket and then beat a hasty retreat, giving me a "good luck" look as he went. Nina grabbed her glass, holding it by the stem, her thumb and forefinger hiding the ring from her view. Perfect.

"Shouldn't we toast?" she asked me, gazing at my face. "That's what you're supposed to do with this, right?"

"By all means," I said, picking up my own glass. I gazed back at her, knowing the moment of truth had come, knowing it was too late to back out. "To a long life together," I said, "filled with love and understanding."

She smiled. "That's sweet Bill," she said. We clinked our glasses.

She put hers to her lips preparing to sip out of it. Her eyes widened as she got a look at what was sitting on the bottom of the glass. She stopped, just staring, the glass hovering against her face.

"Bill," she said slowly, without moving, "there's a ring in my glass."

"What do you know about that?" I said softly. "It kind of looks like an engagement ring, doesn't it?"

She finally lowered the glass, her face suddenly nervous, her eyes searching mine. "Did…, did you put that in there?"

"Not personally," I told her. "But I arranged for it." I leaned forward. "Will you marry me Nina?"

Her mouth dropped open in surprise. She looked from my face to the ring to my face again. She started to say something and then stopped. Her hands began to tremble, making the champagne bubble more, obscuring the ring. The tension in the air was very thick, at least from my vantagepoint. I momentarily lost track of time. How long did she sit there, not speaking, not answering, leaving me hanging? How long? A minute? Thirty seconds? An hour? Would she say yes? Would she throw the glass of liquid at my face and tell me I was some kind of madman if I thought she would marry me? Would she say she'd love to but that we were too young?

"Nina?" I finally spoke, breaking the silence. Had she even heard my question?

"You're asking me to marry you?" she asked breathlessly. "You're really asking me that? This ring is really for me?"

"Yes Nina," I nodded, "to everything. I want you to be my wife. I've asked your father and he's given me both permission and blessing. But all of that's meaningless without you. So now I'm asking you formally. Will you marry me? Will you be my wife?"

"You asked my father?" she asked.

Christ, she was killing me with anticipation. Couldn't we talk about her father after she said yes or no? "Yes Nina," I told her. "When we went fishing. I also talked to your mother tonight."

"Mom and Dad know where we went, what you were going to do?"

"They do," I nodded. "So does Ron for that matter." I took a deep breath, "now I don't want to rush you or anything and if you're not sure right now just tell me, but…"

"Oh God Bill," she said, her face breaking out into a huge, happy smile, "what do you mean "if I'm not sure right now"? Of course I'm sure, of course I'll marry you. Do you know how many times I've fantasized about this day? How many times I've lain awake wondering if you were ever going to ask? How you would ask if you did?"

"So that's a yes then?" I said, pretty sure it was, but wanting to confirm it.

"Of course it's a yes!" she said, leaning forward and kissing my lips, my nose, my cheek. Tears were now running from her eyes. "Do you have any idea of how happy you've just made me?"

A great sense of relief flooded me at her words, at her actions. At the tables around us I could see that some of the other diners had gleamed what was going on and most were giving us looks of happy approval. "About as happy as you've made me." I told her.

We broke apart and she looked in her glass again, eyeing the ring. "How do I get this thing out of there?" she wanted to know.

"The only way to do it without violating etiquette is to drink the champagne down and then reach in."

"Oh yeah?" she asked, the twinkle in her eye becoming mischievous.

"Yeah."

With a smile she put the glass to her lips and upended it. The champagne poured into her mouth and was swallowed in less than two seconds. Her eyes began to water profusely from the effects of the carbonation but she reached in and pulled out the ring. She held it triumphantly before her.

"Would you like to put it on me?" she asked, handing it across.

I took it and she offered me her left hand. I slid the damp ring onto her third finger, seating it in place. The fit wasn't perfect, it would have to be sized when we got back to Spokane, but it looked at home there.

We drank the rest of the bottle of champagne, sipping at it while we discussed what we'd just agreed to do. Now that the question was out and answered favorably I became almost giddy, feeling elation like I'd never felt before. She was going to marry me! Nina too was blushing and giggly. Part of that was the wine and the champagne we'd consumed, but a good part of it was simple happiness and excitement I'm sure.

The waiter came by once to offer coffee or desert. We declined. He also offered his congratulations to us as he spied the ring on Nina's finger.

"I promised your mom that we wouldn't elope," I told her. "She wants to plan your wedding, help you with the guest list, all that crap. She's very adamant about it." And of course I knew why. My first talk with Jack Blackmore had made that clear.

"But when?" she wanted to know. "When can we do it?" She giggled a little, "get married that is."

"I'm not much for long engagements," I told her. "If it was up to me, we'd be man and wife before we climbed back in that airplane with Ron. But under the circumstances, we're kinda stuck by the fact that we're going off to college next month. Also, I'm still seventeen until February. That creates additional paperwork."

She pouted a little. "So when?" she asked.

"Next June," I told her. "Near the end of the month. That lets us be home from college for the summer long enough to get back into the swing of things, go to all the rehearsals, and all of that. How does that sound?"

"It sounds like a plan."

I paid the bill and left a generous tip for the waiter. We walked arm and arm back to the elevator and, when it arrived, found ourselves alone in it. As it began plunging downward we shared a kiss, a very deep kiss that involved a brief dance of tongues. When our lips parted she looked into my eyes.

"You know what would make this night absolutely perfect?" she asked.

"What's that?"

"Making love," she answered.

I took a glance at my watch, seeing that it was five minutes after eight. Right on schedule. "Funny you should mention that," I told her.

"Oh?" Definite interest showed upon her face. "Have you made other arrangements?"

"It just so happens," I told her, "that I have a reservation for a suite in this very hotel. All I have to do is check in at the front desk, pay my money, collect my key. I hear the rooms are VERY nice."

Another look of astonishment. "You reserved a room, HERE? At this place?"

"I hope you don't think that too forward of me," I said.

"But we have to be out of here at ten," she said. "You want to pay God knows how much for a room that you're only going to use for two hours? Bill, that's insane!"

"Isn't it? So what do you say? Care to join me for a bit in the executive suite?"

The elevator ground to a halt at the fifteenth floor. The doors slid open and a middle-aged couple dressed for a night on the town stepped in. We moved back to give them room. They eyed us carefully for a moment, as if trying to decide if we were dangerous, and then turned their backs to us. The doors slid shut and we began descending once again.

Nina and I looked at each other. She whispered, "Go get the key."

We rode to the lobby and less than ten minutes later we were riding back up to the thirtieth floor, key in hand, one hundred and seventy-five dollars lighter. I considered it money well spent.

Even though I'd lived in two lives (at least) and had been around a combined, remembered total of nearly thirty-five years, I was still impressed by the executive suite. As I said before, I was strictly a product of middle-class upbringing. My idea of a nice hotel room had always been a single bed in a small room with something of a view. I considered it classy if the bedspread actually matched the carpet.

The sheer amount of square footage in the room was staggering. There was a sitting room with plush furniture and a bar. There was the bedroom that was nearly four times the size of mine at home and featured a king-sized bed with frilly covers and a twenty-seven inch TV. The remote control was not even bolted to the nightstand. The bathroom had a huge shower, a separate bath, and a sunken Jacuzzi big enough to hold six people. The water was roiling and steaming in it and a small sign assured us that the water was fresh for our visit. The window did not face Puget Sound unfortunately but did look out to the north, giving an impressive view of the Seattle high-rises and the Space Needle in the distance. A complimentary bottle of White Zinfandel sat in a bucket of ice.

"Wow," Nina muttered, taking in all of the opulence, wandering from here to there, looking at this and that. She stared for the longest time out the window.

"You like it?" I asked, coming up behind her and encircling her waist with my arms. She leaned back into me.

"This has been the most incredible night of my life Bill," she told me. "I'll remember it forever."

"That was the plan," I said, squeezing her to me.

She craned her face upward, resting the back of her head on my shoulder. Her left hand, the one with her new ring on it, reached up to caress my face. "Give me some more memories," she told me.

Our lips came together in a kiss; a hot, passionate exchange of tongues. She squirmed her body around so that she was facing me, her breasts pushing into me, her arms around my neck. By the time it broke I was erect, knowing that nothing could stop us now, that this was finally the hour. No one knew where we were. For obvious reasons I had briefed no one in on this particular part of my plans for the evening. There would be no phones ringing to stop us. For the next ninety minutes we were in splendid solitude. Not an eternity, but at the same time, it was.

Nina reached up and pulled the knot out of my tie, loosening it. She pulled it off my neck and tried to let it drop to the floor. We both laughed as it hung stubbornly to my chest, suspended by the tie tack. I disconnected it and tossed the tie, tack and all, into the corner. I shrugged off my suit jacket and let it fall to the carpet.

Nina kicked off her high heels and then stepped back into my arms. "Undress me," she said. "Undress me and make love to me. Make me yours Bill."

I led her by the hand over to the bed and we stopped there, her facing it, me standing behind her. I slid my fingers over the material of her dress to her neck, touching the skin for an instant before grabbing the small zipper.

Slowly I slid it downward and the dress parted, showing me the skin of her back, the straps of her bra. I leaned forward and kissed the back of her shoulders while my hands pulled the dress off of her arms. Gravity did the rest, letting it fall to her feet. She stepped out of it and turned into me once more, her chest bare except for her bra, her silky white slip hanging to mid-thigh on her pantyhose covered legs.

I kissed her again, letting my hands touch the slip, to feel the soft material. I gently pulled on it and it came free, dropping, as the dress had, to her feet. Again she stepped out of it, this time kicking it away from us. My hands traveled across her back, across her butt, pausing to give a quick squeeze through the panty portion before continuing down to the back of her thighs. I stroked her through the nylon, pulling her tighter against me, inhaling her perfume as our tongues continued to dance.

I reached upward and found the clasp on her bra, undoing it, releasing her breasts from their confinement. I stepped back, breaking our kiss, my eyes devouring her as I pulled the bra free and tossed it to the floor. Her nipples were turgid, standing out like sentinels, begging for my mouth to kiss them, my hands to touch them. I didn't resist their call, I leaned forward and took one between my lips. Nina cooed as I sucked first one and then the other.

I let my fingertips slide into the elastic waist of her pantyhose, right against her hips. Slowly, I dropped to my knees before her, so her crotch was less than six inches from my face. The material of the panty portion was semi-transparent, allowing me to see the darkness of her pubic hair contrasting with the whiteness of her skin. I could see the dampness across her lips outlining their shape. I could smell the aroma of her juices mixing with the nylon, creating a powerful scent that made my mouth water, my penis pulsate.

"Take them off Bill," Nina panted from above me.

My fingers were still in the waistband and it was only a matter of applying downward tugs. Slowly the top of her pubic hair came into view, then her glistening lips, then the tops of her thighs. I leaned forward and slid my tongue between those lips, licking her while my hands continued the work of removing the pantyhose. She cried out softly, pushing her crotch into my face, her knees wobbling. Her hands dropped down to my head, partly for balance, partly to pull me harder into her.

When the pantyhose were completely off and she was naked, I pushed backwards on her, forcing her to sit on the edge of the bed. Her legs opened up, giving me better access to her slit, her legs went around my shoulders, her body lay back onto the bed.

I slid my hands up and down her thighs for a moment as I licked her lips and teased around her hardened clit. But this was not my main goal, just the warm-up. I pulled my hands free and, keeping my mouth on target, began to undo the buttons on my shirt. I had to tug it out of my pants in order to get the bottom ones but finally I was able to shrug the dress shirt off. I then tugged upward on my T-shirt, having to remove my face from Nina's slit in order to do so.

She looked up at me from her position on the bed, her eyes glazed with lust and a little fear. "I'm ready Bill," she said. "Very ready."

"Me too," I told her, standing up.

She watched me while I unbuckled my belt and unsnapped my pants. I kicked off my own dress shoes and then let the pants drop to the floor, leaving me standing only in a pair of socks and a tented pair of BVDs. Two quick kicks with my feet and the socks were gone.

"Come on," she panted, spreading her legs wider, opening herself to me.

I pushed my underwear down and off, letting my erection free. Nina looked at it and shivered a little as if she was fully realizing that it would soon be inside of her body, thrusting within her. I climbed onto the bed, positioning myself with my head near the pillows. Nina scooted up until she was next to me.

I took her in my arms so that we were both lying on our sides, facing each other. We kissed while our bare chests, our bare legs slid flesh to flesh. My erection was pushing into her upper thigh. My hands felt her nakedness, sliding up and down her body, over her butt, down her thighs, back up to her back and shoulders. Her hands did the same, paying particular attention to my ass, which she seemed rather fond of.

I rolled her onto her back and then slowly positioned myself atop her. Our faces were inches apart, her nipples barely grazing my chest, her inner thighs touching my outer thighs, my hard cock resting in her wet pubic hair.

Her eyes were locked onto mine, so close I could see the individual flecks that made up the color of them, that I could see the minute contraction and retraction of her dilated pupils. Her hand was suddenly grasping me, squeezing deliciously, pulling me towards the center of her.

"Do it Bill," she whispered, "put it in me. I want to feel it."

"It'll hurt a little," I said softly, kissing her eyelid.

"I know, but do it anyway."

I replaced her hand with my own and then gently put the head against the moist wetness of her velvet lips. She gasped a little just at that contact, her body twitching. I slid up and down through her slit, wetting the head and feeling the warmth of her. I slid the shaft through her groove, wetting it. Thanks to my tongue and her fevered excitement, she was quite saturated with wetness. Gently, ever so gently, I put the head against her opening.

"Yes," she moaned, pulling at my ass with her hands. "Oh yes."

I pushed forward slowly, feeling her tight lips spread apart, accepting the head and a small amount of the shaft before fetching up against her hymen. She jumped a little as I touched it. I paused for a second.

"C'mon!" she cried, nipping at my neck with her teeth, her hands pulling on my ass, her body trembling all over with excitement and fear, "do it Bill, do it!"

I pushed forward, firmly but slowly. At first I didn't think it was going to work. I felt my dick trying to bend, felt the first warning pangs of pain moving upward as receptors in my nether regions tried to warn me that I was about to break something. But finally I broke through with absurd ease.

There was no noise, no ripping sound, no flurry of trumpets, only a sensation of something giving way. Nina let out a soft cry of pain, wincing, and suddenly, instead of only having the head in, I was inside of her well past half-shaft. I could feel her tightness around me, gripping me. I stopped, not wanting to hurt her anymore.

"Are you okay?" I asked her.

She was panting, her face flushed and sweaty. She nodded rapidly. "It wasn't that bad," she said. "Just a little burning. It's gone now."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," she nodded, kissing me. "You're inside of me now Bill, you're fucking me. You're finally fucking me after all this time."

"Yeah," I said, feeling her tight walls gripping at me again.

"So finish the job," she said, pulling at my ass once more. "I want to feel you come in me. I want to feel it."

I began to move in her, slowly at first as I concentrated on just getting myself all the way in. It took quite a few strokes before her tight, virginal hole adjusted to having something inside of it. I stroked in and out, pushing further with each thrust until her wetness coated me, easing the passage and at last I was able to push forward until our pubic hairs met.

"That feels sooo good," Nina sighed, pulling me against her. "Faster now."

I let my hips rise and fall, pistoning my cock in and out of her, sliding along on the lubrication of her juices, feeling her grip at me, feeling her hips begin to rise slowly to meet each of my thrusts. We kissed each other as we moved, switching from mouths to necks to ears. I dipped down and took one of her nipples between my lips for an instant.

"Yess!" she cried, "this feels so good. Keep fucking me."

"Yeah!" I agreed, picking up the pace, hearing the wet squish of our union, smelling the thick odor of our combined juices rising into the air around us. Her legs wrapped around my butt, her calves sliding up and down. Her fingernails scratched and dug at my back. Sweat formed on my face and dripped down on to hers. It formed on our bodies, giving a sensual film of slipperiness between us.

Never had an act of sexuality seemed so perfect, so right to me. This was more than just physical pleasure, much more. This was an emotional giving, a sharing of mind and soul. It was as if we were two halves that had wandered aimlessly all of our lives, not realizing we weren't complete until we'd found each other and joined. There was a rightness to this act that I'd never felt before, a feeling that transcended anything else, that made even the best sex I'd ever had seem like nothing more than a quick jerk-off in a bathroom, a quick release of a biological build-up. I felt every inch of her body against mine, every nerve ending aware and I felt her soul, her essence against mine. It was at that moment, in that hotel room, not at our wedding ceremony nearly ten months later, that Nina and I became man and wife. We wedded each other in spirit, in mind, if not in legality, as I thrust within her and she thrust back at me, as I filled her body and she accepted me.

Like during the terrifying moments after I'd asked her to marry me but before she'd answered, time seemed to slow, to stop. I didn't have any idea how long our act of love continued, how long I slid in and out of her tightness, how long we sweated and groaned, joined at the crotch. At one point she moaned and bucked uncontrollably beneath me, her legs tightening, her fingers scratching, her voice becoming the high-pitched whine I was starting to be familiar with. I continued to buck against her until her orgasm passed, her body relaxed and then I felt my own impending release coming on strong.

"Nina…" I groaned against her sweaty neck, her damp hair.

"Yesss!" she encouraged, thrusting back harder against me. She already knew the signs to look for. "Come for me Bill, come IN me."

It hit me like a freight train, starting in my pubic area and exploding outward like seismic waves from an epicenter. Pure pleasure assaulted me, had its way with me. My hips began to pound more forcefully, with less control. My mouth opened, my head arched backward. And suddenly I was pouring myself into her, feeling spurt after spurt of my hot seed blasting from my body and into hers. It went on and on, much longer than what I considered to be normal. But at last I dropped atop her, spent, exhausted, feeling the cooling wetness our juices, feeling the sharp cold of excited sweat beginning to dry on my flesh.

We kissed softly, just touching tongues, playful kisses. We held each other tightly, my softening cock still nestled in her warmth. Nina looked at me.

"I never knew it could be like that," she said.

"Me either," I answered. "Me either."

I would have expected her to express disbelief with this statement since she knew of my past history. I suppose it sounds phony as hell, what someone would say in the moment after bagging a virgin but before he slipped out the door, never to be seen again. But it wasn't phony. It was the truth and I meant it with all my heart. Nina didn't question it. She knew I spoke the truth, she knew it. She simply pulled me tight to her and kissed me.

"I love you so much Bill," she said, tears from her eyes wetting my face.

"I know Nina," I said, tears of happiness coming from my own eyes. "And I love you."

And so it was Ron who became the first of our Spokane friends or relatives to find out officially that Nina and I were engaged. She proudly displayed the engagement ring for him as we climbed into the plane for the return trip. He offered congratulations to us both, giving us warm friendly hugs. I was glad that we'd had time to utilize the large Jacuzzi in the hotel room before we left in order to wash the smell of our act of love from our bodies (of course the Jacuzzi itself led to another act of love that was shorter in duration but no less passionate). Though Ron probably suspected what we'd done, after all, he had to know it didn't take three and a half hours to simply eat dinner and propose, I didn't want him to confirm any theories he had by catching a whiff of us in the cramped space of the plane.

It was just after ten-thirty when we lifted off, heading east for Spokane. Nina sat in the back and fell quickly asleep, her soft snores reaching my ears even before we leveled off. Ron and I sat in silence, him monitoring his gauges and instruments, me looking out the side window, seeing the lights of Seattle slipping behind us. We would touch down a little after midnight, be home a little before one. I didn't think that our houses would be darkened when we got there. In fact, I imagined that both the Blackmores and the Stevens were anxiously awaiting the official word on the night's activity.

I was lost in my own thoughts as we flew, thinking of all the things that I'd done since my return from 1999. Had I made the most of my gift? Maybe, maybe not. Had I abused my gift? Definitely, but that was human nature I supposed. Had I chosen my gift wisely when it was offered to me?

I thought long and hard on that one, considering everything that I might have asked for at the moment that Mr. Li enquired as to what my greatest wish was. Had I chosen wisely? Was there anything else I could have said that would have made things easier?

I looked back at my sleeping fiance, at her lovely face, at her gentle form. I had found love because of what I'd said. I thought of Tracy, of my sister still being alive more than a year after she'd been fated to die. Tracy was alive because of what I'd said. I thought of Mike, my loser best friend. Mike was now on a career path, had a girlfriend, had every indicator of developing a normal, happy, productive life. Mike was matured and respectable because of what I'd said.

Sure, I hadn't been able to save the marines in Beirut. I probably wouldn't be able to stop the Persian Gulf War or the Challenger disaster or the Oklahoma City bombing. But what of that? Those things would happen anyway, with or without my interference.

My former life had been filled with stress, irresponsibility, uncertainty, grief, and occasional despair. I would probably not escape all of these things in my new life but I could not believe that they would be as deep seated, as constant. Mr. Li had given me a chance to correct my past mistakes, to put things into a new order, to change fate on a small scale.

Had I chosen wisely?

I'd been feeling stressed that day, the day I encountered him. That was why I said what I did to the old man. In retrospect I had to conclude that it was perhaps the wisest thing I'd ever said.