Chapter One - A Diamond in the Night Sky

What am I supposed to do
With all these blues
Haunting me, everywhere, no matter what I do

The moon was high in the sky. The boat rocked with a gentle caressing motion that should have lulled a normal person to sleep. I rolled the stem of my wine glass in my fingers, watching the red liquid in the flute slosh up along the sides but not so far that it would spill over.

My windbreaker flapped against my arms as the breeze kicked up and tossed my uncombed strands of hair to and fro. I brought the glass to my lips and filled my mouth with the ruby liquid, holding the taste on my tongue for as long as I could before I swallowed it down.

Two years. That's how long it had been since I had been on a boat. The place I had rented it from had insisted on a refresher course, but it hadn't mattered. The moment I stepped aboard the small two-person watercraft, everything had come back to me. I made quick work of the preliminary preparations to set sail. My only baggage were a few change of clothes, three bottles of wine, a case of water, a fresh loaf of bread, and a package of cheese. It was enough to survive.

At the moment, survival was as high as I dared to aim.

They had asked me for a return date. I couldn't give them one. My credit card was on file; it could be charged each day without a problem. Money didn't consume my thoughts. My thoughts were consumed with escaping; returning seemed like such a foreign idea.

The real reason for my departure caused my shoulders to ripple in tension as I sat on the deck with the stars shining down from above. I took another sip of wine, my eyes closing. I brought my knees up and pressed my forehead against the hard bones.

Even with miles of beautiful blues surrounding me, I could feel her coming back for her nightly haunt. As the breeze picked up, my skin felt her lips pressing gently right below my ear, her lips curved into a sexy smile. Tears burned at my eyes; my heart began to beat faster and I let out a cry that echoed in the vastness around my small vessel.

Never before had a woman captured my heart like she had. Being without her was like being deprived of oxygen. Every smile was forced, every breath was labored. I wasn't whole any more. I wasn't Nick Carter.

I was adrift.

With the feel of her caress running down my back, I downed the rest of my wine. Standing up and turning in a slow circle.

Some had concluded I had gone crazy. Others, the ones that knew me best, reasoned I was suffering a broken heart. My family couldn't have cared one way or another. They hadn't liked her. It wasn't for lack of trying; Lord knows, she tried. But they just couldn't see what I saw.

Suddenly, I stopped turning. It was my first night on the boat. I had promised myself that I would do it the first night. It would make the days that followed that much easier. I stepped towards the safety railing and looked down. The dark waves slapped against my boat. I inhaled the salty air. My hand ran along the lump in my pocket. My fingers slid into my pocket and wrapped around the circular band.

I held the ring up to the moonlight as I slowly licked a tear away from the side of my mouth where it had suddenly stopped. The large diamond sparkled. I could almost see the promises trapped inside.

"As God is my witness," I choked. "I will never forget you."

I pressed the stone to my lips and, with my eyes swimming in more unshed tears, I tossed the ring into the night. I couldn't see its trajectory, but off in the distance I heard the plunk as it hit the water. With the heavy realization that it was finally gone, I slid down to the wet deck floor and I began to beat my head against the rail, my hands grabbing at my shirt as if my heart was tearing its way through my chest.

Deep down, I suppose I was expecting instant closure. I hadn't expected the sheer panic that gripped my chest and made me want to throw myself overboard. Regrets came heavy. I should have been on that plane with her. She never would have been on it if I wasn't gone all the time on tour. And now...now I would never seen her ring again. What had I done?

As my head began to throb, I threw myself down on the deck. I listened to the sound of my own breathing. I had never felt so helpless. I had taken the biggest risk of my life with her. We had been paving a path together. I didn't know how to continue without her by my side.

If you would have asked me at that moment if I would ever recover, I would have vehemently said no. How could I have anticipated a new journey with the rising of the sun? How could I have known that tossing Lauren's ring overboard was the beginning of something new even though the memories clung to me like a second skin?

I would have never thought it possible that a trip to a seaside diner and a waitress with a broken arm would be the answer I was looking for. I was just a hungry singer who had been up all night crying like a baby. I had just wanted the all-you-can eat pancakes...

Chapter Two - Used to the Pain

The next morning, the cold spray that assailed my face let me know that I had fallen asleep admist my tears. My back ached from the fetal position I had curled myself into. I rolled over onto my back, stretching my arms and legs wide.

The sky was a perfect blue, the clouds the type that a child could lay for hours and devise all types of animals and shapes for the puffy masses. They were the type of clouds that made me think that Lauren was up there somewhere in Heaven, looking down at me and waiting for the night to come so that she could envelop me with a presence that wasn't tangible but was felt to the bone. I struggled to sit up, my stomach clenching and eliciting a loud grumble.

As my eyes scanned the beautiful ocean, I saw the outline of land. My stomach growled again, reminding me that as stubborn as I was, a breakfast of bread and cheese wasn't an option.

Even though my goal had been to escape, I hadn't done so recklessly. My coordinates told me right where I was. With GPS, it was impossible to get lost. I was familiar with the area I was approaching; I knew that a million little eateries dotted the shoreline that was less than two miles out. I got to my feet, padding foolishly barefoot along the slick deck to the controls. As I turned my boat, my destination now clearly set, I finger-combed my hair.

It had been a long time, since Lauren's death to be exact, when I had last cared about my appearance. My stomach had once again grown slack, but not so bad to send me spiraling back to my worst. My hair was in desperate need of a cut and I needed to brush my teeth badly. I was tempted for exactly thirty seconds to slow my speed and go clean up, but I realized that anything I ate for breakfast would mask my morning breath. After all, I wasn't going to get close to anyone.

Ever again.

One hour later, the hour hand on my watch turned to nine a.m. and I docked my boat in one of the few empty slots. I hopped out onto dry land, making sure I retraced my steps. When I was satisfied, I turned and looked at my breakfast options.

It was a warm morning that served to strengthen the smell of salt. Most of the restaurants were packed. I saw several couples, their heads pressed close together, laughing happily. I flinched as I saw a woman hold out a bite of waffle to her lover.

Those days were behind me.

I settled on a restaurant that was occupied by only a few stragglers. For a second I hesitated, wondering if the lack of customers was a result of horrible food. Yet, compared to the alternative (sitting in cupid's midst), I was prepared to down inedible cardboard.

A tiny gold bell chimed above the door as I pushed the swinging door opened. The place smelled slightly damp, yet at the same time slightly floral. I noticed the colorful bouquets of flowers in vases placed in the center of each table. I chose to sit at the counter.

Through a small window behind the counter I could see a rotund man draped in an apron the size of a tent working hard at the grill. I propped my elbows on the light tan wood, my feet pressing against the bottom rung of the bar stool. The padding on the seat was cut; I had a feeling I was going to have a bunny tail upon standing.

"Coffee? Coffee?"

The voice came from behind me; I didn't bother to turn. I heard one person mutter an ascent. There was a clatter, but it wasn't loud of enough to heighten my curiosity enough to look.

"Coffee?"

Suddenly the large glass container was hovering right by my arm and making a quick motion at the coffee cup turned on its end. I considered it for a moment before turning it over. The coffee began to fall into the cup...

And then it fell on my lap.

"Jesus Christ! Watch it!" I barked. I shoved back too fast, the barstool tipping recklessly. I crashed to the ground, my head bouncing off the floor like a basketball.

"OH NO!" the owner of the pot of coffee cried. I saw lime green flip-flops slap dangerously close to my ear. My hand grabbed the back of my head. When I pulled it away I was sure I was going to see sticky red blood, but there was nothing. I sat up slowly.

"Are you okay?"

I looked up and recoiled. It wasn't as if the woman crouching near me was ugly; no, she was far from it. My action was a result of spotting the large cast on her right arm and noticing how dangerously close the pot of coffee in her left hand was coming to pouring scalding hot coffee on my lap again.

"The coffee," I said.

The blonde glanced at the pot of coffee, her eyes widening in realization what I was all too aware of. She pulled it towards her.

"I'm so sorry," she said. She struggled to push herself up on slender legs. I straightened the barstool, using it to stand up.

My first thought was that I had never met a woman as short as the one in front of me. She was eye-level with my chest; as such her head was tilted back to look into my face. I leaned over and grabbed a napkin, promptly soaking up the brown liquid that had sunk into my shorts.

"I'm fine," I said. Truthfully, it wouldn't have mattered if I was injured. I never intended to use that part of my anatomy again. For the first time in my life, my reason, not lust, ruled my thoughts and actions.

"I feel so bad," she murmured. She put the pot down and grabbed a cloth hanging from the band of her apron. She soaked up the coffee on the counter.

"Accidents happen," I said. "Sorry for my outburst."

The woman shook her head. "Nonsense, don't apologize. Do you know what you want to order?"

I glanced around. I had attracted the attention of the few older men that sat at the flower tables. Each one had a large platter of pancakes before them.

"I'll have the pancakes," I said. The woman tucked the wet towel back into her apron and picked up the coffee pot.

"Right away," she said. "They're all-you-can eat. And I promise not to drop it on you."

I gave her a small smile, the only type of smile I could form. "That would be great. Thanks."

As she bustled away, I swapped out my torn stool with one that looked slightly sturdier. I poured in a container of creme into my coffee cup and took a tentative sip. I nodded in satisfaction.

It tasted much better in my mouth than it had felt on my skin, skin that still stung. Not that it mattered, of course.

I was used to pain.

Chapter Three - Just Not Rosie

"They're on the house."

I had my wallet in hand, three plates of all-you-can eat pancakes in my stomach, and an insistant waitress standing her ground. I shook my head, pulling out a crisp twenty dollar bill.

"I insist on paying."

"I burned you."

"It's not a big deal. I've been burned before."

"Is that a metaphor?"

"I don't know what a metaphor is," I said.

"Well, I don't know if metaphor's the right word. All I know is your meal's on the house."

I worked my jaw from side to side. The best course of action was distraction. "How'd you break your arm?"

"Fishing."

"How do you break your arm fishing?"

The girl smiled. She pointed to the wall directly above the counter. I leaned back, my eyes rolling up. Mounted on the wall was the biggest swordfish I had ever seen.

"You caught that?"

She smiled proudly. "I did. I'm pretty sure it was his papa that snapped my wrist."

I couldn't imagine a little thing like her pulling in a catch like that. Skepticism must have been written all over my face. She placed her left hand on her hip.

"I get my cast off in a week. Come back and I'll show you how to fish."

My guard rose; I felt the walls rise all around, surrounding me. I put the twenty on the table and stepped back.

"Thanks for the offer, but I'm just passing by," I said quietly.

She picked up the money and held it towards my chest. I continue to walk backwards.

"If you won't take it for the pancakes, consider it your tip," I said.

"I'm not accepting your money," she said, impatience rising in her voice. She walked quickly towards me. I was almost to the door when her flip-flop snagged on yet another stool. With good arm flailing, she began a dangerous arch towards the floor. My body reacted instinctively, I lunged forward, my arms outstretched. I caught her just before she hit the ground.

The last time I had held a woman in my arms was Lauren. We had been on the balcony of our condo, clad in white, fluffy bathrobes. She had nibbled my chin, teasing me about the goatee that she hated with a passion.

I would give anything to have never grown that amount of dark blonde peach fuzz.

I'll see you soon," she had whispered. Her mouth moved from my chin, her lips pressing lovingly against mine.

"Come with me tonight," I had pleaded as I pulled away. She shook her head. "It will only be a few days. Then we'll be together again. Until then..."

How was I to know that would be the last time we would make love? How were we to know that we'd never see each other again? That we'd never touch each other in all the intimate ways that only two people in love could learn?

"Are you okay?"

The restaurant blinked back into view. The waitress was clinging to my upper arms, her face swimming in front of me. It was only after I felt the wetness on my cheeks did I realize her face was swimming because I was crying. I ran a hand down my face, trying to mask the humilation I felt.

"Are you okay?" she repeated.

"I'm fine. I---I've just got to go."

I didn't wait for a response. I pressed my damp hand to my chest, sure that my aching heart would stop me dead in my tracks. It was almost a prayer. Dead I could be with her. It seemed so simple...

The thought of suicide had crossed my mind several times, but I had never followed through. Brian had prayed with me, God, I don't know how many times he prayed with me. I shared his belief that suicide wasn't the answer. Yet, the temptation was always there.

As I neared my boat, I sped up. A young kid with backwards hat and a bandana hanging out of his jeans pocket was knelt down by my boat.

"HEY!" I yelled.

The boy looked up. He didn't look older than thirteen or fourteen. His eyes widened. He held up a wrench. My feet slapped against the pavement.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?" I screamed.

The boy glanced at me, fast approaching and then behind him. I was near enough to have him trapped. It wasn't until I stretched out my arm, ready to grab him, when he threw out his arms and backdived into the water.

I stood at the end of the pier, dumbfounded. The boy held up his middle finger as he treaded water.

The old Nick would have jumped in the water after the motherfucker. But that Nick was gone. I willed myself to unclench my fists as I turned around and knelt down to examine the boat. A few wires had been cut; some nuts and bolts were missing. I stifled a curse and stood up. I glanced back at the water. The boy had disappeared.

I scrambled aboard and headed towards the controls. After five tries I knew he had damaged the connection to the engine. The boat bobbed pathetically. I groaned, slamming the wheel with my palm. I began to reach for my phone when I realized I didn't know who to contact.

Five minutes later, I walked back into the restaurant. The place had gotten no busier. I was hoping to snag an old guy, ask my question, and get out.

The waitress had other ideas.

"You're back," she said in surprise.

"Someone cut some of the lines on my boat," I said. I couldn't look at her; instead, I stared down at those horrendous lime green flip-flops.

"You're on a boat?"

"I'm just passing through," I said.

The flip-flops moved towards the counter. My curiosity got the best of me and I lifted my head. She was leaning against the counter, snapping the fingers of her left hand.

"Tito, a guy needs your help out on the dock! Some punk cut his wires!"

"Joshua," the voice behind the window growled. The large cook I had spotted earlier walked out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on the bottom of his greasy apron.

"Your boat?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," I said, my voice catching. The blonde was smiling at me.

"I don't want to take you away from your work," I said. "If you could just recommend someone--"

"Tito's the best," blondie piped up. Tito grinned, a dimple appearing in his cheek.

"Your opinion doesn't count Rosie. You're biased."

She beamed; I winced. More than anything, I hadn't wanted to know her name. Waitress. Blondie. Flip-flop girl.

Just not Rosie.

Chapter Four - Cast a Line

"You really don't have to do this," I said. For such a large guy, Tito walked fast. He was carrying a tackle box that was practically three feet long. He turned and smiled at me. If I had to peg his nationality, I would have guessed Samoan.

"You want your boat fixed?"

"Yes."

"Then I'm your guy."

"But the kitchen..."

"Rosie can handle it."

"She can cook?"

"One-armed and all."

We slowed as we neared the harbor. I walked ahead, leading the way to my dysfunctional boat.

"Did she really break her arm fishing?"

"Nothing but the truth. She's one helluva fisher. This your boat?"

I nodded. Tito knelt down next to the damaged panel. I stared down into the water. As Tito mumbled to himself my mind went back. way back. Back to the early days of me and her...

"You need a REAL man to teach you how to fish," I teased. Lauren's eyes sparkled as she ran her hand up and down the fishing rod.

"Oh really?"

I stood behind her, my arms eagerly sliding around her. We were on her daddy's huge ass boat. I was almost afraid that the line wouldn't reach the water. My fingers stroked the inside of her wrist. I momentarily forgot what we were doing.

"Nick?" she murmured.

"Yeah?"

She laughed. It was the best laugh I had ever heard in my entire life. "Get outta my way."

She wiggled away from me and I stood there dumbfounded as she cast her line like a pro. Her hip pressed against the rail and my pride was healed a little by my renewed focus on her denim short shorts.

"You've done this before?" I guessed. She looked towards me; the wind picked up her hair and tossed it around in waves.

"I've been fishing since I was three years old," she said. I stood beside her and tossed my line.

"You must think I'm a little pigheaded, huh?"

"Pigheaded?" she repeated. "No, you're just a guy." I saw her check me out. "And a really gorgeous one at that."

I hadn't wanted the day to end. Lauren caught a huge fish and we pressed close together. Lauren was smiling with pride; I was just smiling with happiness.

Happiness. It was such a foreign thing to me now. Happiness was lowered into the ground with Lauren's casket. Happiness faded the instant the dark red rose that fell from my fingers hit the polished mahogany lid and I crashed to the ground.

"Hello? Can you hear me?"

A brown hand waved in front of my face. I started. Tito was staring at me, his face showing his concern.

"I've been talking to you for five minutes. Where were you?"

"I'm sorry," I said quickly. "It's just been a stressful day."

Tito smiled. "It's barely noon, bro."

The sun was beating down through my hair, warming my neck. I ran a hand down my throat. "What's the damage?"

"Well, I've mostly got bad news. Joshua knows how to screw things up really bad. He not only took some of the bolts and cut two of the main wire, he also took a fuse. I can repair the wires and replace the bolts but I've got to order out for the fuse."

"Are you telling me there's no place around here that would have one dinky fuse?"

"They don't make this model boat no more," Tito explained. "All parts are pretty much special order."

I scowled. "How long will that take?"

"If I rush it? Let's see...what's today?"

"Tuesday."

"It'll be here Friday morning."

"Friday morning?" I said. My head began to pound. "Can I rent another boat and leave this one here until it's fixed?"

"You can try, but it's peak season. My buddy Bob down at the rental said they were all out for the week."

"Damnit," I scowled. Tito looked sympathetic. "Where you headed bro?"

I stared at him blankly. I didn't have a destination. "Nowhere," I said.

He looked at me thoughtfully. "You've come to the right place. You stay on your boat and no one will bother you. You come to my restaurant for food and Friday you can keep going nowhere."

I shook my head. I ran my dirty sneaker along the edge of the dock. "I don't have a choice, do I?"

Tito's dimple reappeared. "Naw, but I'm trying to be positive. Looks like you can use some of that right now."

I flinched. Our interaction needed to be over. I held out my hand. "Alright, thank you for your help."

Tito's handshake was bone-crushing. "If you need anything, I live right in back of the restaurant."

"Thanks," I said. I knew even if I did need help I wouldn't seek him out.

As I climbed aboard the boat, Tito put a dozen or so tools back into his large toolbox. He hoisted it on his shoulder and took back off in the direction of the restaurant.

I lifted the hatch and pulled out a folding chair. I set it up and headed below; I chose a book I knew I would never begin reading and made my way back up. I settled myself in the chair, opened the cover of the old Steven King title and tried to lose myself in thought.

Unfortunately, that was easier said than done. It was a gorgeous day. On either side of me, people were preparing their boats for a day out on the wide open sea. A couple girls in skimpy bikinis hung over the railing of the boat to my left. They began a constant barage of giggling and, I daresay, did their damndest to get my attention. They didn't succeed. I turned a page, coughed, and narrowed my eyes for emphasis. After awhile, one of the more daring girls flashed me, but getting no response, they soon started the boat and sailed away.

On the other side of me, I saw a dad holding his little boy up and letting him turn the wheel. This disturbed me more than the girls. I let out a shuddery breath and turned another unread page with shaking fingers, the little boys' laughter stinging my ears.

Once upon a time, I had seen my child's heartbeat.

The moment her heart ceased to beat, so did its.

I would never know if I had been destined to have a son or daughter.

Destiny took it all away.

Chapter Five - A Long Way From Heaven

Watching the candle flicker out in the evening glow
I can't let go
When will this night be over?

The day passed slowly. I refused to leave the boat; I gnawed on bread even though my stomach demanded so much more. I watched the sun set and tried to paint, but it was no use. My muse had been gone much to long. By eleven, I was the only passenger left on any of the dozens of ships that had docked at the harbor. Hundreds of tiny fireflies dotted the sky. The breeze had picked up, a cool breeze that provided a stark contradiction to the burn-inducing sun of the day. I tossed a worn sweatshirt over my head and squeezed my eyes shut.

It had hit me the moment the material had slid across my nose. I tried not to inhale too deeply, but that was next to impossible. I had yanked the shirt out of the back of my closet when I had stuffed my bags for the trip. The sweatshirt smelled like her.

It was covered with Lauren's perfume.

Her habit of wearing my clothes had become something of a little joke between the two of us. She had gotten into the habit of sleeping in my things when I was gone; she used to tell me that my scent made it feel like I was right there before her. I used to laugh and, slap her bottom playfully; I can't remember how many times I told her she was more dramatic than Shakespeare.

Now I knew what she had really been telling me. She was trying to explain the dull ache that gnawed at her heart when we were separated. I had been too busy to really get it.

But time had slowed. Instead of the days flying until I could be with her again, the calendar was playing a dirty trick. Each day was a year. A month a century.

With her perfume invading my lungs, I grabbed a chaise lounge and spread it out on the deck. I straddled the fake plastic furniture and settled down slowly. There was a barrage of creaky protest, but it held me. My head angled up towards the night sky and I studied the stars, wishing not for the first time that I could be up there.

There was a time when I could have pointed out all the constellations. But my brain had grown fuzzy. My attention caught on a large star near the moon. Without blinking it seemed to flicker like a candle flame caught in a slow breeze. My eyes watered over, desperate not to break the connection. Maybe it was the persistant effect of the perfume or the frustration of the day, but I was overwhelmed with the feeling that it was her star. Lauren's star.

Well a slow well of anger stirred in me, I was suddenly reminded of Brian's attempt to help me understand.

God giveth and God taketh away.

It had sufficed in the moment, but every time that phrase came back to me, the more I resented it. Why did God have to taketh away? How could God take someone as kind and gentle as Lauren? Why take from the earth the type of girl that would stand guard over an oil-covered bird and called ten different places until she got help? The type of girl that took a chance of a train-wreck of a guy and showed him how to truly love?

And what did an unborn child do that necessitated taking its life away before it had even begun?

The tears in my eyes extingushed the stars flame. My back tensed so badly that my shoulder blades felt like they were going to crack. I grabbed the sides of the chair and took deep, cleansing breathes like my psychiatrist had instructed me to do. The pounding of my heart started to slow, but sweat still dripped from my forehead like I was suffering from a horrible illness. I got up and went below deck. In the small bathroom, I splashed handfuls of cold water onto my cheeks. When I was drenched, I slowly looked at my reflection.

I looked horrible. The circles on my eyes showed just how bad I was lacking in sleep. I ran my hand along my jawline, the dark blonde hairs scratching my palm. An uneven mustache had erupted above my upper lip.

Suddenly I felt the presence again. I blinked rapidly, looking past my own reflection in the mirror. It was irrational, but I could almost see her behind me, her long hair undulating with the shake of her head. She hated me with a mustache. She had always teased me that I looked like a Hulk Hogan wannabe whenever the days got away from me.

Somehow I found the razor. I don't remember moving, but minutes later the small sink was filled with water and I had applied a thin layer of cream over the offending hairs. I felt her fingers playing with the ends of my hair, her laughter tickling my ears as I made long, sure strokes across my face.

I was a man possessed. The water turned dirty as I flicked the growth into the basin. I pulled the stopper and watched it all swirl down. I grabbed a towel and ran it over the newly smooth skin. Without pausing, I stripped down and stepped into the tiny shower. The water that ran over me was ice cold and made my teeth chatter, but I wasn't bothered that it might keep me awake. There was no sleep for me. Nightmares loomed in the recesses of my brain.

Passing out was the only way to get me to sleep. That's when the visible darkness of oblivion took over.

After showering and brushing my teeth, I made my way back up on deck. I curled up on the chase lounge and concentrated on my breathing again. Once upon a time, I would have spent my late-night prank calling my friends, listening to music, playing World of Warcraft...but none of that mattered now. In silence, I could continue to think of Her. In silence I could seek refuge in my very own quasi-imaginary world.

Besides, in solitude, Lauren was still with me. From her perch in Heaven, she was keeping me from crossing the line. It wasn't the answer I was seeking. Deep down I kept reminding myself that I would go to Hell if I crossed that line.

And Hell was a long way from Heaven.

Chapter Six - Damn, You're a White Guy

Bacon. Greasy. Salty. Ever-so-savory. The aroma of 'real man' food hit my nose even as I struggled out of the binds of exhaustion. I had fallen asleep again on the deck, but at least this time it was in a chaise lounge and not curled up on the hard floor. My mind tried to process how in the world the smell of bacon could be wafting from the ocean when my eyes opened a crack and crossed as they narrowed in on the plate that was being held an inch for my face.

"Oh good, you're awake," a very soft, semi-spacy, and vaguely familiar voice said happily.

I glanced down. A pair of green flip-flops screamed back at me. I didn't need any more to decipher the cook's identity: Rosie. My eyes lifted to take in her mess of blonde hair and her smiling oval face. She didn't seem in the least bit nervous or out of sorts; it was like she trespassed on someone's boat every morning with a plate of bacon. And eggs. And toast cut into perfect triangular halves.

"What are you doing?" I asked, my voice sounding gruff. I turned my head and coughed, clearing out what remained from the onslaught of tears from the night before.

"I brought you breakfast!" she announced. She jiggled the plate awkwardly. Spotting her cast pressed close to her body in a bright blue sling, I took it from her before I ended up wearing it.

"Thank you," I said awkwardly. I put the plate on the floor and began to swing my leg over. "Let me get my wal--"

"Nope!" she said. "Won't hear of it. You wouldn't be stuck here if it wasn't for my cousin."

"Your cousin?"

"Well, he might not be my cousin. I don't really get into the whole 'family tree' thing," she said, using her good hand to make an invisible quote in the air. "What's family anyhow? I think family should be whoever you like. Being related to the bad ones makes life miserable. But anyhow, we confirmed the culprit of your boat jacking was Joshua. Of course, it wasn't a hard mystery to solve. He came home soaking wet and his mama slapped him silly with her dish towel. She was doing dishes; I mean, she doesn't carry a dish towel around with her all the time. That would be weird, right? And the most frustrating part about the whole thing is I keep telling Josh that he makes a horrible criminal, but he just doesn't listen."

I stared at her. She talked a mile a minute and her hand flew around like she was half-bird. I picked up a corner of my toast and took a bite.

"I didn't know whether you wanted white or wheat," she rambled on, watching me chew. "But you seemed like a sweet guy."

I choked, the dry crumbs soaring down my throat the wrong way. "Excuse me?"

Her pale brows knitted together in confusion. "I said you seemed like a wheat guy." Her mouth formed a perfect 'o.' "Damn, you're a white guy aren't you?"

I held out my arm and studied it. It was pink, but still very Caucasian. "Yup. It looks like I'm still a white guy," I quipped. She stared at me for half a beat before she realized her accidental double meaning. She tossed her head back and laughed. A normal person would have joined in; I tensed.

It had been forever since I had made someone laugh. The noise, a result of my own humor, seemed so foreign to me. I picked up a piece of bacon and took a bite. The tinkling sound of happiness faded away.

"So whatcha doing today?" she asked. I heard a soft creak and out of the corner of my eye I saw her sit down. She stretched her legs out in front of her, her toes pointing towards the sky, and leaned forward as if this was always her morning routine.

The bacon tasted delicious, but her question soured my mouth. I glanced up at the sky and watched a large white seabird pass above us.

"I'm staying on the boat," I said. I heard a sound that seemed like a cross between a snort and a groan.

"Why stay on a boat that don't work?"

"Doesn't," I corrected, my inner Howie coming out as it often did at the most random of times.

"Don't, doesn't. To-ma-to. To-maaaah-to," she said. Her hand wrapped around my leg; my head jerked in her direction. It took everything in me not to pull away.

"You should go sightseeing," she said. "I can show you all the neat places that tourists never find."

"I don't need to sightsee," I said evenly, more than aware of the pressure of her fingers on my skin.

"You're on vacation, aren't you?"

The question hung in the air. I didn't answer. I picked up the plastic fork and took a big bite of eggs. Her hand slipped away and she hugged herself.

"I knew it," she said softly.

I swallowed the fluffy bite. "Knew what?" I asked defensively.

She scrambled up, teetering a little without the help of both arms. She stared down at me. If she meant to pose as an authoritative figure, she failed. Even sitting on the chaise, her diminutiveness was evident.

"You're lost," she stated simply, the color rising in her cheeks and pity (God, how I hated pity) filling her eyes.

I moved some egg closer to one of the triangular pieces of toast, my pulse thumping. "You didn't seem to have trouble finding me," I said. "And coming aboard. Without an invitation."

If she got the implication, she didn't let on. She shook her head. "I don't mean location-wise, and you know it."

I took one more bite of toast, chewed vigorously and grabbed another piece of bacon. Sticking it in my mouth like a cigar, I held out the plate. She took it without looking away from my face.

"I," I said, gnawing on the pork and purposely talking with my mouth full, "know exactly where I'm going. I dunno if you're into weekly charity cases, or whatever, but I'm the wrong guy."

Her lips pressed together and she hummed. "Fine," she said after a minute's worth of buzzing. She turned around and I heard the awkward sound of flip-flops on the ladder. I licked some of the salt off the bacon and flopped back on the chair.

After washing my unexpected breakfast down with a bottle of warm water that had been sitting out since the night before, I was all prepared to spend the day lost in thought and getting sunburned. I assumed Rosie would stomp back to her little restaurant and be the clumsy little waitress she was.

And maybe she did stomp back to the restaurant. I'm sure she had to because when she returned, once again uninvited, she didn't have my breakfast plate. But what she had was lugged up and dropped on the boat so noisily, that it caused me to scream and roll off of my chaise.

A huge tacklebox lay tipped on itself. A moment later two fishing rods came flying up and scattered to either end of the deck. A small hand gave way to a slender arm and all of a sudden she was back.

"What the hell are you doing?" I snapped, all pretenses of being nice flying out the imaginary window.

"You don't wanna sightsee," Rosie said breathlessly, slapping a few blonde strands of hair that had come loose from the ponytail she must have just affixed. "So we'll fish."

"We'll do nothing," I said. "If you don't get off my damn boat I'll...I'll--"

"Call the police?" Rosie filled in.

I nudged the tacklebox with my foot. "Yes!"

She smiled and knelt down to pick up one of the rods. She stretched out again like a little kid would do, her legs spread far apart and slid the tacklebox towards her. She opened the lid and began rummaging around an impressive collection of lures.

"I don't think Uncle Manny's gonna care," she said lightly.

"What do I care what your Uncle Manny thinks?" I said. I grabbed the other fishing rod, preparing to fling it back over onto the dock. Rosie sat back, dangling a brillant red lure from her fingertips.

"He's the police captain," she said proudly. I turned from her and smacked my palm to my forehead.

I had never met a peskier woman in all my life. What had I done to deserve this?

Chapter Seven - Hook, Line, and Sinker

"You can't fish with a broken arm," I said for the tenth time. She didn't answer. The little thing, as quick as a mosquito, was maneuvering around me, lining up an overwhelming amount of gear. She paused for a moment and opened a large bag.

As she rummaged around in the bag, she surveyed her progress. Finally her fingers pulled out a hunk of unidentifiable black strap. She wrapped part of the strap around her waist and a lower part to her narrow thigh. I didn't see what she did next, but when she turned around I was almost knocked in the head by the fishing rod that was lodged in the contraption. I ducked, my hands falling to my knees and my head hovering somewhere around 'crotch.'

"The StrikeFighter let's me fish with a broken arm," she said happily. "It's a poor substitute for both hands, but since you didn't want to wait around a week for me to prove my fisherwoman-ship, I had to pull out this bad boy. And y'know what? I bet my rod's bigger than yours."

She wiggled her hips and the rod sailed back and forth over my head like an erection. I scooted back and stood up.

"You're right, I bet it is," I said. Deep down, I knew she was just trying to get a smile out of me, but sexual jokes had been lost upon me for a long time.

Even so, her smile didn't flicker. She pointed at the other pole she had brought along. "Why don't you join me?"

"I don't feel like fishing," I said. "I kinda just want quiet."

Rosie pursed her lips and made a zipping motion. She turned her back on me and fiddled with the fishing rod sticking oddly out from her body. A few minutes later, she cast her line.

I went back to my chaise with good intentions to ignore her. She stood there, feet planted apart, and admittedly pretty darn quiet. But I couldn't not know she was there. I tried reading, but she was still in my peripheral. Her hips swayed slightly as if it was killing her to remain in one solidary position for so long. She kicked up one leg, her heel almost touching her ass before doing the same thing with her other leg.

"Do you want a chair?" I found myself asking after witnessing fifteen minutes of this aerobic action. She turned her head, shook it back and forth, and made an O-K sign with her good hand.

Steven King was failing in his job as a writer. After another ten minutes, I put my book down. I went below deck, but I stood there, unsure of what to do. After brushing my teeth and combing my hair, I climbed back up.

I was just in time for the show.

Rosie had gotten a bite. Her good hand was on the reel and she was staggering backwards, her knee jerking spasmodically at the contraption.

"Oh God, c'mon you stubborn sonofabitch! You don't just bite and think you can get away!"

Her flip-flops were causing her to go helter-skelter. They slapped loudly at the deck; the reel seemed to be causing her problems. For as many steps as she progressed, suddenly she started flinging forward.

What the hell did she catch...a shark?

Maybe it was the sight of someone who was maybe barely five-feet-two on a good day struggling or the fear that she would break her ankle and sue me for injuries occured on my boat, but I sprung forward. My arms went around her shoulders and I grabbed onto the pole. I locked her in tight. Her hand still spun on the reel and I yanked both of us backwards.

My best of intentions sent me falling on my ass, the wind knocked out of me. Rosie, as much of a clutz as she appeared, stayed firmly on her feet. As I took a silent inventory of all my bones and muscles, her green flip flops straddled either side of my body. Large drops of water fell on my crotch as she held up a gigantic king fish.

"Say you're sorry for knocking him over, fish!"

It was ridiculous, but for a minute, I thought the damn fish really did open its mouth. I sat up, scooting back from the shower I was getting.

"Thanks for the help!" Rosie said, smiling brightly. "Hey...I know I'm supposed to be quiet, but do you realize you haven't told me your name?"

I looked up at her and blinked rapidly. The sun...the sun was making her look like she had a bodily glow around her. Her head tilted slightly and I could see how the excitement had caused the heat to rise in her cheeks.

"You don't know who I am?" I asked slowly. She held up a finger. "Hold that thought."

I watched as she turned from me. She croutched down low next to the rail and fiddled with the line. She whispered something that I couldn't decipher. In one swift movement, she lifted the fish over the rail and dropped him back into the water.

"Why did y--"

"I don't keep what I know I won't eat. Or display," she said gently. She turned back around and walked towards me. "Now, how would I know who you are?"

Every now and then I had a bad habit of assuming that everyone knew who I was. It was the curse of being famous. I had forgotten how nice it was just to be nobody. It didn't happen often.

"I--I dunno," I said stupidly. I stood up and held out my hand. "I'm Nick Carter."

Rosie smiled and put her tiny hand in mine. "Rosalyn Talikahominiganoka."

She said it so fast that I was sure I didn't hear her right. "Come again?"

She laughed. "Rosalyn Talikahominganoka."

I took her in, I mean really took her in. Blonde hair. Green eyes. Very white, very ivory skin. Curvy hips. Nice chest. Very nice c--

"Is that Hawaiian?" I asked, cutting my mind off.

"Yeah. My mom married a Hawaiian dude when I was two. He adopted me since my own dad couldn't get away from his Bud Light to go change a diaper. Uncle Tito's my stepdad's brother."

"So he's really your uncle?" I asked, my voice actually coming out in a tease. She beamed.

"Yup, that one I know for sure."

"So do your mom and dad help with the restaurant?"

"They died when I was seven," she said without missing a beat. "I just have Uncle Tito and the rest of my non-family, family."

"I'm sorry," I said quickly and instantly regretting it. It was the same reaction that I hated getting from people who asked about Lauren.

"It's in the past. They're in a better place, y'know? All this," she spread her arms wide. "Is just kinda the waiting room for something much better."

A waiting room. I knew exactly what she meant. "Yeah, it is," I said quietly. I looked back up at the sky.

"If that's what you're trying to find, I think you've got a long wait," she suddenly whispered. I looked back at her in surprise.

"What?"

"I think you've got a long wait," she repeated. "You're going to be waiting a long time. The long line on your hand shows you're going to be very old when you die."

"What long line?" I asked in confusion. She grabbed my hand and turned it, palm up.

"You have a very long life line," she pointed out, her nail tracing it. "Why waste it being miserable?"

I didn't answer. Rosie shrugged and maneuvered the rod, once again almost hitting me.

"Sure you don't want to fish?" she asked. "You obviously know how, Nicky."

I scowled. "No one calls me Nicky," I said.

"Nickers? Nicko-las?"

"Nick," I said. I picked up the spare pole.

"Just Nick."

Chapter Eight - Dinner for Two

"Have you traveled a lot? I've never gone anywhere."

"Is your hair naturally this blonde? Mine is. I mean, natural. When I was a baby my mom called me potato because I didn't have any hair and my head was kinda misshapened."

I figured after refusing to answer ten questions straight that Rosie would give up. Unfortunately, I had met the only girl on the planet who was oblivious to being ignored. We both had caught a few more fish, none as impressive as the first. I had kept a few aside, suddenly hungry for a little omega 3 for dinner.

"So how old are you? I'm twenty four."

I glanced over at her. She had kicked off her flip flops and was wiggling her toes happily. I sighed.

"I'm thirty four."

Her head turned my way; I looked out at the water.

"You don't look thirty four," she said.

"Must be good genes," I said dryly.

"Well, it probably won't last long if you don't smile more," she mused.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm just saying...it takes more muscles to frown than it does to smile."

I grumbled. My line jerked again and I began to reel in my next bite.

"Why aren't you working today?" I asked, colder than I intended.

"Tito told me to take a couple days off. Joshua's taking my place. He's working to pay for your repairs."

"That's not necessary," I said.

"Yeah, it is. It's the only way he's going to learn." Rosie stepped back, pulling her pole out of the water. I felt her eyes on me.

"You know what we should do?" she asked. When I didn't respond, she continued. "We should take the fish you caught, go back to the restaurant, and cook them on the grill."

"No thanks," I said. I pulled in another small fish and unhooked it. I put the pole down and placed my last catch in the bucket. "I have a small grill; I'll eat here."

Rosie smiled. "Deal. I make a mean seasoning and--"

I held up my hand. "No, you don't understand. I just...I just need to eat alone."

Rosie didn't frown, but her forehead creased. "Why? I've seen you eat. You're a little messy, but--"

"Listen," I said, my voice catching a little. "Thank you for the afternoon, but I need some solitude."

Rosie slid her feet back into her flip-flops. Her hand snaked through her hair. "Just tell me one thing. How is spending one more hour with me eating going to ruin a whole night of solitude?"

I opened my mouth but my voice failed me. She had her hand pressed into her hip and the wind was picking up her hair. I closed my eyes and sighed.

"Fine. We'll take your gear back and we can eat at the restaurant."

"What a great idea!" she said happily, as if it had been my idea. I heard the clink of the fish bucket hit against her leg. I opened my eyes. "Let's go!" she said.

I grabbed the tackle box and fishing poles and followed her down off the boat. She walked quickly, beginning to hum slightly as she headed in the direction of the restaurant.

"Do you have a pretty big crowd for dinner?"

"We're not really open for dinner," Rosie said.

As we neared the line of restaurants, I saw the usual hustle-and-bustle in the ones that were always packed. The one we headed towards was already dark.

"Why aren't you open for dinner?" I asked.

"Over the years, the other places kinda took over. We don't serve liquor. We're more of a casual breakfast and lunch establishment."

As she explained, she walked around to the side of the building. She used her elbow to jiggle a handle. I was prepared to offer assistance, when the door swung open.

I smelled the remains of breakfast; there was a perpetual odor of bacon and eggs. I put the tacklebox down on the floor as she flipped on the light.

The kitchen was small, but clean. Rosie put the bucket of fish on the counter and opened a tall cabinet.

"You can put the poles against the wall," she said. I propped them up at an angle. When I turned, I almost fainted. She was holding a sharp knife.

"Know how to skin these bad boys?" she asked. I took the knife slowly, turning it around and admiring the strong blade.

"I think I can handle it," I said.

It had been a long time since I had cooked with a woman in a kitchen. Rosie continued to hum a song that seemed familiar, but I just couldn't place. Within fifteen minutes, the smell of bacon and eggs was replaced with a strong blend of spices. The sizzle of the fish on the wide grill top was oddly soothing.

"Can you get a couple plates? They're too high for me to reach."

I bit the inside of my cheek, unsettled to realize I had almost smiled. The shelf wasn't that high off; I didn't even have to reach to grab to white ceramic plates down. "Where's the silverware?" I asked. She nudged an elbow in the direction of a large container. I pulled out two sets.

"You can put them out front. We can eat in a booth," she said.

I left her as she expertly manned the grill. I found some napkins and slowly set out the table settings.

With just the emergency lights on, the restaurant was cloaked in shadow. I watched a few young couples walk by, laughing and holding hands. I stretched my arms up high, trying to loosen up the muscles that had tightened in my shoulders.

I stayed out front for a minute longer. The sounds of the grill died away. I heard a click; soft music floated from the old radio on the ledge that seperated the kitchen from the restaurant. The swinging door flew open and Rosie stepped out with the two white plates filled with fish, rice, and vegetables. Curling steam rose from the piping hot food.

"Fishing always gives me an appetite," she said with a smile. She set the plates down and ran her hands down the front of her pants. "Sit down. I'll be right back."

I settled down and picked up my fork. I pressed the fork down into the fish and marveled at the way it easily flaked away. I was just about ready to bring the bite to my mouth when a glass of dark red liquid was placed in front of me.

"What's this?" I asked. Rosie slid across from me and put down her glass.

"Red wine. It tastes amazing with this fish."

I shook my head and slid towards the end of my seat. "I just want water."

Her arm shot forward and she grabbed my wrist. Her eyes softened.

"Please? It's the house wine."

"I thought you said you didn't serve dinner. Or alcohol," I reminded her.

"We don't serve hard liquor. But at one time, back before I could even drink, we were known for our house wine. Please. Tito will be happy that it's being used."

I sighed, but settled back. I picked up my fork, bringing to my mouth the bite I hadn't yet tasted. The flavors erupted on my tongue; I let out a moan of appreciation.

"Good, right?" she asked happily. She shoveled in a huge mouthful, her cheeks puffing up in pride.

"It's delicious," I admitted. "What spices did you use?"

She chewed, swallowed, and proceeded to click her tongue. "Secret family recipe."

"Are you kidding me?"

She laughed. Her flip-flop hit my foot and I pulled mine back. "Nope. It was my mom's recipe. She was probably the only girl born in Kansas that could cook fish as good as a Hawaiian. She passed the recipe down to me almost before I could see over the stove. And someday I'll pass it down to my children."

I didn't know how to respond; I was out of social practice. To cover for the awkwardness, I brought the glass of wine to my lips.

She hadn't been lying. As the liquid settled on my tongue, it blended with the aftertaste of the fish so well it was almost erotic. I closed my eyes, breathing slowly.

It was only when I blocked out everything else that I realized that Rosie had turned the radio to an 80's station. Journey's Faithfully burned at my ears. I shot out of my seat and yanked the knob quickly.

"What's wrong?" Rosie said, her voice laced with surprise. My chest rose and fell as if I had just run a marathon.

"Everything," I said weakly.

Chapter Nine - I Hit a Nerve

"How long has she been gone?"

"Who?"

"Your wife."

"How do you know I was married?"

"Your ring finger still has a line where your band was."

I stared at my empty wine glass. The radio interruption had shaken me up. As I returned to my seat, Rosie glanced at me, but she didn't say a word. We had finished our dinner in silence, but now that the plates were clear, she had started up again.

"Two and a half years ago," I admitted.

"Was she sick?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Rosie stood up and I figured that would be the end of it. How stupid I was. She disappeared in the back and returned with the wine bottle. She filled up both of our glasses and sat back down again, setting the bottle loudly down on the tabletop.

"I didn't want to talk about it either when my mom and stepdad died," she admitted. "But, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't pretend it didn't happen."

I knew she was giving me an opening to ask her what happened to her parents, but I didn't bite. She took a sip of wine and leaned back. I saw her fingers wiggle on her casted arm.

"My stepdad took my mom on a week-long vacation at sea. The boat got caught in some bad weather on their way back and they didn't have time to find port. The high winds tore the boat apart and they were pushed into a shallow, rocky area. I was in gym class when I got called to the principal's office. I remember from that day forward I never thought that he was my 'pal.'"

"That's tragic," I said softly. "How old were you again?"

"Seven."

"And you still live here," I said. She seemed confused as I took a sip of wine.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Well this whole place is water and boats and--"

"It was a freak accident. I didn't understand that at the time, but Uncle Tito kept telling me in his own little ways that nature is wild and unpredictable. Besides, if you become suffocated by fear, you forget to live. Mom and dad loved this place. I feel close to them out in the water."

"But it's not fair," I argued.

"It depends. Don't you think God has a greater purpose?" she asked. She brought her wine glass to her lips.

"You sound just like one of my closest friends," I scowled. She took a sip and swallowed quickly.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, but..." I trailed off and took a deep breath. "What greater purpose could God have for taking a mother and her unborn child?" I whispered.

The words lingered in the air; I couldn't believe I had said them aloud. We both took another sip of wine.

"How far along was she?" Rosie whispered.

"Not quite four months."

"Your first?"

"Yes."

"How'd they die?"

I didn't want to answer. I felt as if talking about it would be like pouring salt in the wound that refused to heal. Unbiddingly the image from the television came to mind. I pressed my fingers to my forehead.

"Plane crash," I mumbled. "It wasn't that bad. Only five people died. No, six. Our baby. Six."

"Were you on the plane?"

I shook my head. I brushed my fingers down from my forehead to my eyes, flicking away the moisture that gathered there. "I was in London."

"She was coming to see you," Rosie guessed. I nodded.

"So you've been like this for over two years?" she asked.

I was nearing the bottom of my glass again. "What do you mean?"

"You've got bags under your eyes, you never smile, you're uncomfortable being around people...you've been acting like the living dead for more than two years?"

"What are you, a psychologist?"

She laughed. She actually laughed. "No, I didn't go to college. Me and school didn't mix. I'm just observant."

I pushed my glass away. "Well, I appreciate the meal, but I've got to go."

"I hit a nerve," she surmised.

"No," I snapped. "I just...I'm tired."

Rosie stood and reached for the plates. I ran my hand along my neck. "Thank you for dinner."

"You caught most of it," she said lightly. "The least I could do was fix it. By the way, I hope you sleep tonight. It looks like you need it."

My sneakered feet slid towards the kitchen door. "T--thanks," I sputtered. Before she followed me, I made fast tracks out through the side door and back out into the evening air. As luck would have it, the first thing I heard was a low-flying plane directly overhead. I croutched down, my hands digging into the loose earth. I clenched my teeth and spit.

The wine had loosened my tongue. I hadn't wanted that...that...girl to know anything about me. I felt vulnerable. Too vulnerable.

I slowly stood up and made my way back to the boat. A couple girls were partying a couple doors down, bedeckled in mardi gras beads. They yelled an invitation for me to join them, but I ignored it. I quickly headed below deck, not willing or even able to listen to another night of waves crashing against the sides of the boat.

It had been a long time since I had tried to lie in an actual bed. I turned on my small television and waited for the local channels to program themselves into the receiver box. After this was done, I found an old episode of Friends and watched the movement without really comprehending the plot. The only thing that kept drawing me back was the sound of the laugh track.

My body sunk deeper into the mattress and I spread out my legs. I used my right foot to kick off my left shoe and then repeated the action. I sighed.

The whole day had put me off kilter. I hadn't labored over every single minute. My body had actually gotten exercise. My stomach was full of good food and drink.

And, as much as I hated myself for thinking it, the company hadn't been half bad either.

Chapter Ten - Let the Music Heal Your Soul

It was the oddest sound I heard ever heard in my entire life. I couldn't place it, but it was loud and drifting down from the hatch I had left open a crack to get some fresh air. My eyes were crusted over with sleep and protested as I opened them quickly.

I had ripped off my shirt in the middle of the night. I emerged out onto the sunny deck shirtless, squinting at the sun. I didn't know what time it was, but it looked like it was going on noon.

Had I really slept that long?

I turned my head to the right and narrowed in on the culprit of the sound. Rosie lowered the small ukulele she was attempting to play one-handed, and lifted her hand in greeting.

"Good morning-almost-afternoon!" she said with pep.

"What," I groaned. "are you doing here again?"

"Joshua's still taking my place," she explained.

"Don't you have any friends you can go visit?" I asked. I pulled myself all the way up on deck and sat a few feet from her.

"I have tons of friends but they all have jobs," she said in the easy manner I had grown accustomed to associating with her. "I thought I'd come give you a wake-up call."

"The ukulele, huh?" I asked. She nodded.

"Do you play?"

"Not that," I said.

"What then?"

"Guitar. Drums."

"So you like music," she concluded. "I was worried since you didn't seem to like the radio last ni--"

"It was the song, not the radio," I interrupted her. She placed the ukelele in her lap and plucked at a string; the note floated out over the water.

"You don't like Journey?"

"I love Journey."

"But that was--"

"That song held too many memories."

The wine was long gone, but it was like hse had found the key to my tongue. I bit the inside of my cheek, cursing myself silently.

"That was your song wasn't I?" she realized. "Oh, I'm sorry. I've heard couples can get attached to one song like that."

"Haven't you ever had a song?" I asked. Rosie giggled.

"The only song I've ever had was Cracklin' Rosie by Neil Diamond," she joked. She tilted her head up and studied the clouds. "I've never attached a song to another person. I haven't loved anyone that much to do that."

"Well, when you're older I'm sure that'll change," I said. She turned her head and our eyes met.

"You talk like an old man."

"I'm ten years older than you."

"So? Don't tell me thirty four is ancient. Grandma Kalani is about a hundred and isn't as mopey as you."

"Who's Grandma Kalani?"

"She's only the oldest person on the island," Rosie said. "You should come met her. She makes this amazing bread and--"

"That's okay," I said quickly. "I have some things to do today. Thanks for waking me up. I overslept."

"You look better today," she agreed. "But I don't think you really have anything to do today."

I narrowed my eyes. "How would you know?"

She was wearing a pair of dark green cargo pants with a million little loops and buckles. She jangled as she stood up and tucked the ukulele under her armpit. I noticed she had traded in the bright green flip flops for some slid-on tennis shoes. "Call it a hunch. Come with me," she repeated.

"I can't just go visit someone I don't know," I argue. "The moment you say aloha, you'll be friends for life."

She held out her hands and wiggled her fingers.

"I haven't washed up yet," I argued.

"Then go get washed up!" Rosie exclaimed. She bounced from leg to leg.

It had only been two short days, but I already realized that she was like a bee and I was like a flower. She wasn't about to leave me until she had sucked all the pollen out.

Whatever that means.

I ducked below deck and spent a few minutes washing up. Just from the short time I was talking to her, I could tell the day was going to be warm. I pulled out a white tanktop and some cargo shorts and hauled myself back up.

"Where does this Grandma Moses live?" I asked as we both climbed off the boat.

"Grandma Kalani," Rosie corrected. Not far.

'Not far' was an understatement of monolithic proportions. We started off at a brisk walk down a fairly well-traveled path, the sun beating down heavily on the tops of our fair heads. After about a half hour, the path ended and we started trapezing over jagged rocks.

"Should you be doing this with your arm?" I asked, desperate to turn back around.

"I go here at least once a week!" she called out from in front of me. "This isn't so bad!"

When she jumped and almost completely disappeared, I about had a heart attack. It wasn't until I got to the edge that I realized there was a rock formation that doubled as a staircase. I jumped down several at a time until I landed on a sandy patch right next to her.

"Right up ahead!" she sang.

Directly in front of us, about a hundred feet ahead was an old shack. It looked like it had been badly weather-beaten, but yet it still stood erect. Rosie skipped in front of me. She tapped on the door and then slid the ukulele out from under her arm.

"Come in!" a shaky voice called.

Rosie winked at me and disappeared into the hut. I hesitated a moment but pushed the door open and slid on through.

Even though the outside was worn, the inside was neat and tidy. Clean windows let in the sunlight, brightening up the whole interior of the one room house.

Grandma Kalani sat in a rocking chair in the corner. She had a light blanket thrown over her legs and was stroking the back of a gray cat. The cat looked up and meowed its greeting.

"Rosalyn, you brought a visitor," the old lady stated. She held out her free hand. Rosie set the ukulele down and clasped the wrinkled hand in her own smooth one. She turned and smiled brillantly at me.

"Kalani, this is Nick. Nick, this is Grandma Kalani."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," I said. Rosie let go of her hand and I took it. The old lady smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

"What a firm handshake," she chuckled. As quickly as it had formed, the smile disappeared. "A firm handshake for such a wounded bird."

She clicked her tongue. I felt chilled. "A wounded bird," I repeated.

"You--you--" she punctuated, her finger pointing at me. "You're the wounded bird. And such a contradiction too. How anyone could be so cold when you are with pure sunshine." her finger turned to point at Rosie. Rosie laughed.

"You only see me on my sunshine days," she teased. "I brought my ukulele."

"Ah, I've been wanting to play," Kalani said. Rosie handed over the instrument. The old lady's hand left the cat and she grasped it with firm knowledge. I felt a small hand on the back of my pants. I turned. Rosie sat down and motioned for me to do the same.

For the next twenty minutes, I was entranced at the old lady's playing. It seemed like she covered every emotion with the touch of the strings. In the beginning, it emulated the aching sadness I knew so well. As the song wound around, I felt something I hadn't felt in forever.

Happiness. I couldn't stop the smile from forming on my lips. I turned and looked at Rosie, curious to see if she was feeling it too. Her eyes were sparkling. She nodded and clasped my knee. I placed my hand over hers. Kalani looked at both of us and then slowly tilted her head back. She began to sing in Hawaiian. I didn't understand the words, but it touched me all the same. It wasn't a sad song. It wasn't a love song. I recognized what it was, even though I wasn't sure if I could fully take it in.

It was the music of hope.

Chapter Eleven - The Heart of the Matter

I didn't meant to fall in love with you
And baby there's a name for what you put me through
It isn't love, it's robbery

"It's not as fancy as last night's fish, but it tastes good after the walk, doesn't it?"

"No, it's excellent."

Kalani had insisted on making lunch (an extremely late lunch), and just as quickly, had insisted that she stay inside to eat at her small one-person table. Rosie and I had ventured outside. We were sitting side-by-side on a sand bar, the waves coming close to our feet. I held my sandwich aloft, surprised at just how good the sweet bread tasted with the chicken salad.

"You have a gorgeous smile," Rosie said. I glanced over at her. She was engrossed in the swell of the ocean.

"It's been awhile," I said roughly, taking another bite of the sandwich.

"It takes more muscles to frown than to smile," she said lightly.

"Not when you do it so much."

At that moment, Rosie fell back in the sand, her hair fanning out and reminding me of a sand dollar. "Laughter is the best medicine."

I turned towards her. "Going through the book of old sayings?" I chided. She laughed, bringing the sandwich to her lips.

"They wouldn't still be around today if there wasn't some truth in it," she sang. She took a bite bite, tilting her chin up as she ate.

We lapsed into silence. I watched a flock of seagulls play a few hundred yards away. Their wings beat excitedly as there beaks worked fast at their own lunch.

"Was she the first girl you ever loved?"

Rosie's voice pulled me back. I glanced down at her. Her big eyes looked up at me. My mouth went dry. I reached for my water bottle and tilted my head back as I filled my mouth. I sloshed it around a few times before finally swallowing.

"The first, the only, the last," I said.

"The last? How can you be so sure?" Rosie asked. She grabbed her water and sat up a little.

"I don't have a heart anymore," I replied quietly. I began to play with the sandwich crust, pulling off teeny crumbs and flaking them onto the sand. The seagulls would thank me lately.

"I don't believe that for a minute," Rosie argued. "Heartless people don't hurt like you're hurting."

"You have no idea," I snapped. My appetite and good mood faded in an instant.

"Yes, I do," she disagreed.

"Lauren has my heart. She took it with her." I stood up, dusting the sand off the back of my jeans. "I think we should head back."

Rosie didn't argue, but she got up slowly. We walked together back to Kalani's small shack. The old lady was back in her rocker, her eyes closed.

"It was nice to meet you," I said, extending my hand. Her eyes opened slightly. They widened as she took my hand in both of her wrinkled, frail ones.

"You don't have to go far," she croaked. "It's right in front of you."

I couldn't even force a smile. I was pretty sure that the lateness of the day had put the old lady in a state of confusion.

"Yeah," I said. She dropped my hand and nodded. I stepped back as Rosie stepped forward, kneeling beside her.

"Joshua will bring your groceries tomorrow," she said gently.

"I will pray for him," Kalani said. Rosie laughed.

"He needs a double dose of Jesus," Rosie said. She kissed Kalani's wrinkled cheek.

"Don't forget your ukulele, dear."

"Of course, not. We'll play again soon, okay?"

That made the woman smile brilliantly. "I look forward to it."

Rosie grabbed her ukulele and strummed it once more.

"Aloha, Kalani."

"Aloha, dears."

Rosie and I stepped back out of the hut. The sun was on its downward descent.

"Thanks for coming with me."

"It was nice," I said honestly.

Our conversation didn't pick back up until we had navigated the rocks. Rosie slid off her tennis shoes and swung them by their laces. She sighed.

"What's up?" I asked, even though I suspected I was opening a can of worms.

She didn't answer. Instead, she knelt down and her fingers dug into the sand.

"Rosie?"

"The poor things," she murmured.

My curiosity was heightened. I knelt down next to her.

Rosie's eyes swam with tears. Her fingers were close to, but not touching, a large turtle nest.

"Some animal's gotten to it," she said.

"There's some that aren't touched," I pointed out.

"They look like they're about ready to hatch. Look at the teeny tiny cracks," she whispered.

A large tear dripped down her cheek. I bit my lip and turned my head. The shoreline wasn't far off.

"That animal will come back," she said brokenly. "You go on ahead, I'm going to sit here."

"What do you mean you're going to sit here?" I asked in surprise.

"They're about ready to hatch. I'm going to make sure the surviving ones get to the water."

With that, she kerplunked right onto the sand, brushing the tears away with the back of her hand. I sighed and took a seat on the other side of the nest.

"What are you doing?" she asked. I took off my shoes and socks and pressed my bare feet into the sand.

"I'm sitting with you. In case you need help."

Rosie's smile was a much better sight than her tears. "This is so nice of you. It's like I stepped into The Last Song."

"The what?"

It was a question I wished I could take back. For the next thirty minutes, I was subjected to a synopsis of a romance story. Rosie seemed to realize where the ending was going because she faded off.

"I just meant the turtle rescue," she said quietly.

I rubbed my neck, ready to break past the awkwardness, but also succumbing to related memories of Lauren. Our slew of dogs, the oil-covered bird...

"It's nice to see someone else who cares about animals so much," I said aloud.

Rosie laughed. "That's an understatement. If I went to college, I would have done something like marine biology or veterinary science."

"Yeah, marine biology always interested me," I said. I was about ready to launch into a description of my charity, but I bit my tongue. Rosie didn't seem to recognize me, and I wasn't going to ruin that. Instead I yanked my arms into my t-shirt and hunched forward.

"Cold?" Rosie asked. I shook my head.

"No," I said. "It's just that something tells me it's going to be a long night."

Chapter Twelve - A Turn of the Tide

"You're shivering."

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

Rosie clung to her sling and glanced at the eggs. "It's just getting colder. I wasn't prepared--"

"Go home and get something warmer," I suggested. She shook her head.

"What if they hatch when I'm not here?"

"I'll be here."

She looked over at me. I couldn't see the expression on her face; it had gotten too dark. We were saving the light on our phones to shine on the eggs every so often.

"I don't want to miss this," she admitted quietly. "I've always wanted to see a turtle hatch."

"Me too," I said. We both leaned in close to the hole.

"Do you want my shirt?" I asked.

"You just have a t-shirt."

"I know."

"It's okay," she said.

We lapsed into quiet silence. My thoughts ebbed and flowed with the tide. As always, evening brought Lauren closer to me. Unlike always, the care of the turtles blocked the full impact of the pain. I lifted my foot and began to play with your toes. I heard Rosie give a barely audible laugh.

"What?"

"I dunno," she said. I could see the outline of her shoulders lift in a shrug. "You just don't seem like the type of guy to play with your toes."

My mouth twitched. "And what type of guy plays with his toes?"

"A fun-loving, carefree guy."

I didn't answer. I leaned forward and blew at the same stuck to the top of my foot.

"Is that how you used to be?" Rosie pressed.

"Yes," I admitted.

"I wish I could meet that guy," she lamented.

"He's completely gone."

"Not completely. You've still got your toe playing. You could work from there."

"I don't want to work from there. I just want to be like this."

Rosie clicked on her phone and hovered the light close to my face. Her green eyes reminded me of emeralds. "No you don't," she whispered.

My breath caught. Staring into her face, I suddenly didn't want to be the way I was. Little particles of snd stuck to my face and I felt them more than I had felt anything in a long time.

"I'm scared," I whispered in a strangled voice. Rosie's head seemed to move in slow motion.

"Don't."

Her head tilted slightly. I leaned forward, my eyes drifting from her eyes to her lips. She lowered the light. I could feel her breath on my skin...

"OH MY GOD!"

She scooted back, her face illuminating. "Nick, look!"

It took me a minute to shake the stunned feeling coursing through my body. She pointed for emphasis, and I looked down.

From the egg, came a small head. The topmost part of the egg fell into the sand. I held my breath as the creature struggled to push its way out. All around it, others were doing the same. First one flipper-like leg and then the other came out. The tiny turtle slid its appendages against the sand for the very first time. At first it couldn't seem to figure out how to get itself all the way out of its previous home. Finally, it slapped at the egg and turning from side to side. After a small struggle, the rest of its body slipped out. For a second it just stayed motionless on the sand as if stunned. It reminded of how I had felt just a few moments before when I had been so close to kissing Rosie. After a few more seconds, the turtle righted itself, slapping one last time at the egg. It pointed its head towards the water.

"Crawl home, little ones! Crawl home!" Rosie said in delight. She scrambled to her feet and bent at the waist, quickly rolling the bottoms of her pants.

"Nick, c'mon!" she said.

I stood up and mimicked her movements. We held both our phones aloft over the turtles, our eyes glued to their movement. Even though so many had been attacked, there was still an impressive number crawling towards the surf. Rosie and I ran with them. I laughed as they bumped into each other as if battling to see who would be first. When a wave rushed on shore and took the first one, I froze. Our phones became like electronic lighthouses, one last beacon of light before the turtles went out to find their own place in the world.

"Oh it's beautiful," Rosie said. For the second time today, I saw the tears cascading down her round face. "It's better than I could have ever imagined."

"Good luck little guys," I whispered. I stepped into the water, washing the sand away. I tipped back my head and looked up at the sky. Dawn was approaching, but the sky wasn't yet turning. A clear sky full of stars looked back at me.

Suddenly, an arm slipped around my waist. Rosie's body pressed against mine as her face sank into my chest. "Thank you," she said, her voice muffled into my shirt.

At first, my hands stayed hopelessly at my sides. A hug was such a foreign thing. It was a struggle to lift my arms. I wrapped them around her and squeezed gently. Her fingertips pressed into my back. She was shivering.

"You're freezing," I whispered. She looked up at me.

"Not anymore."

My heart tripped. Her lips parted slightly. There we were, standing in the ocean with our arms wrapped around each other. We had just spent all night saving a batch of baby turtles and watching their departure. It had been a miraculous thing.

I wanted to kiss her. The old Nick, the one who still played with his goddamn toes, wanted to remember how a woman's lips felt and tasted against his own. He wanted to run his fingers through that shock of blonde hair and expose the gentle skin at her neck, running my teeth lightly against it to see if it would elicit a moan.

But I couldn't. Lauren couldn't let me cross that line. My arms fell; I stepped back.

"I'm sorry," I said brokenly. "I can't."

Rosie's eyes were still closed, her cheek still turned. Slowly she looked at me.

"It's okay," she said sincerely.

I felt like I needed to explain further, but I couldn't. She didn't seem to expect it. She went back to the turtle hole where the shells were abandoned and picked up her shoes.

"I'll walk you back to the restaurant," I offered.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

We put our shoes back on and walked back to the restaurant. Even though we didn't touch, we walked closer than before.

"It's Friday," Rosie said.

I didn't understand at first. Friday. Friday? Oh!

"Tito should have my part," I said. Rosie nodded.

"Are you leaving right away?" she asked.

What would Old Nick do? I knew the answer. Old Nick would have grabbed her and kissed her until she forgot her name. Old Nick would have told her that he couldn't leave without having a taste of her.

"Yeah," I said, battling against that image. "I have to get going. Places to see..."

I knew I didn't sound enthusiastic or convincing, but she nodded. "I'm sure Tito will be over early."

I thought about telling her I'd stop by the restaurant to say good-bye, but the thought didn't hold any appeal. Why form another loss?

"It was nice to meet you," I said, offering my hand. She placed her own in mine. I shook it gently.

"Nice to meet you too, Nick," she said. "You're a special man."

With that, she turned and slid inside the restaurant. I heard the lock of the door. Through the glass, I caught one last glimpse of emerald eyes.

Feeling the sharp dagger pains in my heart, I headed back to my boat.

It was a good thing it was Friday. I needed to go. Rosie had almost pulled me out of solitude.

Almost.

Chapter Thirteen - Aloha, Rosie

"What do you want to say to this man, Joshua?"

Tito had the scrawny teen that had jacked up my boat by the back of his collar. The boy stared at the ground, his jaw working furiously from side to side. Tito gave a sharp tug to the fabric and the boy blanched.

"I'm sorry 'bout your boat," he said quickly.

"And?" Tito pressed. The boy looked up, his brown eyes rolling in annoyance.

"And I hope you have a safe trip." His voice was a little less than sincere. Tito sighed, dropping his hand. "Go," he said. Joshua didn't need to be told twice. He ran back up the dock, his sneakers slipping slightly on the slick surface.

"He's gonna kill me yet," Tito muttered. He yanked up his pants and knelt down next to his tool box.

Between the time I had left Rosie at the restaurant and Tito's early morning arrival with my missing part, I had only managed to get an hour's worth of sleep. I rubbed at my cheek, stifling a yawn.

"Heard about those turtles," Tito said. "Amazing sight, no doubt."

"It was wonderful," I agreed. I glanced at the water, remembering how the turtles were picked up and carried off. I wondered for a moment if they had been scared. It amazed me that they could just pick up and move on so soon after birth.

"You leaving today?"

I glanced back at Tito. "Yeah. As soon as you're done, actually," I said.

"I'll be about a half hour. Why don't you go up to the restaurant and get some breakfast?"

The thought held appeal. Even though I had told myself last night I wouldn't say good-bye, it seemed like the right thing to do.

"Maybe I will," I said. Tito smiled. "Best to set sail on a full stomach, bro."

I gave him a little mock-salute before turning towards the row of restaurants. I slid my hands in my pockets. It was still early, but I could tell that it was going to be a scorching hot day. Even though my walk was short, my forehead was damp by the time I got to the restaurant. I pushed open the door and headed inside.

The restaurant was quiet. I looked around and took a seat at the counter.

The minutes passed. I expected to see a pair of bright green flip flops walk out of the kitchen. I expected a one-armed waitress holding a coffee pot.

You could have heard a pindrop. I got out of my seat and walked into the kitchen. It was empty. I frowned. I walked back out into the restaurant and glanced around. My eyes stopped on one of the booths.

A plate of homemade donuts and a glass of orange juice sat on the table. A small folded piece of paper was propped up on the glass. I walked over and picked up the paper. The handwriting was horrible. The front of the paper just said 'Nick,' but it took me several seconds to even decipher that it was my name. Inhaling deeply, I opened the note.

Nick,

I wasn't sure if you were going to come by before you left. I made these donuts just in case. You've never tasted better. They're an old family recipe and----damnit, I'm horrible at goodbyes, so...

Aloha - Rosie

I re-read the note three times before I sank down in the soft booth. I stared at the plate. The donuts were still warm. I brought one to my mouth, biting down into the soft dough. They were amazing. The cinnamon sugar exploded in my mouth. On any other occasion, they would have been blissful; however, Rosie's note made them only bittersweet.

I picked my way through a couple donuts and the glass of orange juice. I took my time, thinking that she might return. When the hands of the clock above the doors to the kitchen hit ten, I knew I had to go. I stood up and slid the note in my pocket.

"Aloha, Rosie," I whispered. Squaring my shoulders, I headed back out into the day.

Tito was repacking his toolbox as I neared the boat. He looked up, shielded his eyes against the sun, and smiled. "All set. Hope you don't mind, but I started her up." He held up the keys. "I wouldn't leave these on the boat, y'know. She'll be stolen for sure."

"Thanks," I said. I took the keys. "She's running fine?"

"Purring like a kitten. I had to run home and get some new wire, but besides that it was mostly the missing part that was the trouble. I saw you sitting in the booth all alone. Where was Rosie?"

I ran my thumb over the jagged edge of the key. "I don't know," I said honestly. "She left some donuts."

Tito rubbed his giant gut. "Donuts? Oh, it's a rare occasion when Rosie makes those. How she did the dough with one arm..." he trailed off. "They were amazing weren't they?"

Even though he was staring at me, I could only see visions of sugary treats in his eyes. I nodded. "Delicious. I only ate a couple. There's three left."

"Well, I did work up an appetite..." Tito trailed off. He turned back to me. "Anything else you need, son?"

"No," I said. My fist tightened around the keys. "Thank you for everything."

"It was the least I could do."

Tito picked up his toolbox and lifted his hand. I returned the salutation and climbed aboard the boat.

"Have a safe trip!" Tito called as I inserted my key.

"Thanks," I called back. I turned; he was already heading back towards the restaurant.

As promised, the boat started right up. I ran through my mental checklist and made sure everything was ready to go. I undid the anchor and returned to the wheel. My hands wrapped tightly around it.

After standing there for ten minutes, I knew I was hesitating and it bothered me. I pulled out a pair of sunglasses, put them on, and set my sight forward. The boat lurched forward, righting itself immediately as it clipped through the water. After about fifteen minutes, I looked back.

The dock looked like just another dot.

Even though I was exhausted, I felt the need to put a great deal of space between me and the place I had just left. With each mile, I felt the invisible strings that had wrapped around me snap away. I had my solitude back.

Around three o'clock, I slowed everything down and let the boat drift. I headed below deck, barely ducking in time to keep from hitting my head. I kicked off my shoes and crawled into bed.

The exhaustion overwhelmed me. I remember my head hitting my pillow, but not much else. The softness took me in.

And I was out.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I awoke to a strange feeling. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something seemed off. I sat up and looked around. Nothing was out of place. The boat was still rocking gently.

I got out of bed and went to the bathroom. After completing my business, I did a quick inventory. Again, everything was fine.

Feeling paranoid, I climbed back up on deck and looked up at the sky. The sun had already set. The sound of the blue-black water lapping against the boat was perfectly combined with the strong smell of salt water. As the salt invaded my nostrils, I inhaled greedily. Finally relaxing, I turned around.

I screamed.

She screamed. The bottle she was holding slipped from her hand and crashed to the floor. Foamy suds splashed across my feet. My heart felt like it had torn out of my chest and dived over the side of the boat.

"What are you doing here?" I said in a voice not my own. It was several thousand octaves too high.

Rosie stared at the broken bottle for another couple seconds. Slowly, she looked up at me, her green eyes wide. She broke into a confident smile.

"You need a first mate and a cook. And I just so happen to be up for both jobs. Do you have a mop?"

Chapter Fourteen - Every Rose Has Its Thorn

"A mop? A mop?" I repeated increduously. Rosie motioned towards the spilled wine and made mopping motions.

"Yeah, do you have one?"

I blinked rapidly and looked out at the water. "You can't be here."

"I am."

"You can't be."

"Can," she said calmly. I looked back at her. There was something different about her. Her clothes weren't odd: a simple pair of capris and a t-shirt. It took me a moment to figure it out.

"Where's your cast?" I finally asked. She smiled.

"I took it off."

"You took it off?"

She nodded. "Heavy-duty kitchen shears," she explained. "They worked really well. I mean, I was supposed to have my cast off Monday, so I figured...what's a few days?"

I shook my head. "How...why..." I swallowed. "How did you get on my boat?"

She laughed. "That was easy. I got on while Tito was working."

"Why?"

"Why what?" she countered.

"Why did you sneak on?" I demanded.

"I figured it would be fun," she said easily. She spotted a mop resting against the side of the deck. She grabbed it and began to mop up the liquid.

"They'll think you were kidnapped!" I exclaimed. She looked up; there were those damn eyes again.

"I wrote Tito a note," she said. "Besides, you need me."

"I don't need you!"

"You had one moldy loaf of bread and some cheese. I'm pretty sure you would have starved. Trust me, you need me."

I clenched my fists, watching as she finished mopping. She grabbed a broom and swept up the glass. I saw how awkwardly she was using her newly uncasted arm. It was much thinner and whiter than her other one.

"Don't you need physical therapy or something?" I asked.

"Nah, I just have to use it," she said. I sighed.

"I'm taking you back," I said. She frowned.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No," Rosie said. She marched up to me and pushed the tip of her finger into my chest. I stared down at her face. Her cheeks reddened. "I'm not going and you can't make me."

"I could pick you up and throw you overboard," I warned. Her eyes sparkled.

"I'd like to see you try," she teased.

"You're a shrimp."

"I'm a strong shrimp."

I reached out for her, but she grabbed my wrist with her good arm and did a crazy ducking movement that twisted my wrist painfully. I leaned forward, trying to wiggle myself out of the lock.

"Fuck, okay! Let go!" I yelled three minutes later, unable to shake her. She dropped her hold and I shook my whole arm out. When I looked at her, she had her hand on her hip.

"So?"

"You're a thorn in my ass," I said with a scowl.

"Every rose has its thorn," she said lightly.

"I bet you don't even know who sang that song," I challenged.

"Poison," she said calmly. I bristled.

"That song came out before you were even born."

"So what?"

"So what?" I repeated. "So what?" I wasn't quite sure what my point was. I worked quickly to come up with one, no matter how lame. "It just proves that you're immature."

"Sometimes that's not such a bad thing. You should try it sometime. A little recklessness is fun."

I didn't answer. The whole thing was ridiculous. Here I was, planning on having a quiet evening with my thoughts when out of nowhere she shows up. Now I had a girl on my boat talking a mile a minute about how I could benefit from being immature. And she was wearing those damn green flip-flops again.

And to think that I had almost kissed her the night before! Had I gone crazy?

"So do you want dinner?" she asked. She spun around and headed towards a large white net.

"I'm fine, thanks," I said angrily. I pulled out a chair and sat down, folding my arms over my chest.

"Suit yourself," she said. She walked by me with her arms piled with stuff. "I'm going to go use your stovetop."

My jaw tensed, but I didn't tell her she couldn't. She headed below deck. A few minutes later I heard the rustling of cans and pots.

Reckless. I had been reckless once. Okay, more than once. At one point in time, a running documentary of my life would have probably played out next to the word and been cross-indexed with the word impulsive. The Old Nick would have gotten a kick out of the fact that Rosie had snuck onto the boat. The Old Nick would be down below distracting her from cooking.

I groaned and shoved my hand through my hair. My body ached; it felt as if it was coiling in upon itself. I felt like my personal space was being invaded. It wasn't that she intimidated me. No, quite the contrary. It was just that---

Up through the hatch came the confident sounds of a very light airy voice singing Every Rose Has its Thorn completely off-key. The notes tickled my eardrums, sending a rush of heat through my veins. I stood up and leaned my long body over the railing. Splashes of water came up and hit my face.

"SHIT!"

I turned, my hands wrapping around the rail. "You okay?" I called. I heard a few more loud clatters and then slapping footsteps. Rosie poked her head out. The tips of her hair were covered in red sauce.

"Minor explosion," she said. "Can I have that mop again?"

"How minor?" I asked. She fidgeted.

"Totally minor. Mop?"

I didn't trust the way her nose wrinkled as she spoke. I grabbed the mop and made a sweeping motion. "I'm coming down."

I saw her wince before turning and heading back down. I ducked down, clutching the mop and prepared myself for the worst.

It wasn't the worst, by far, but it was certainly a mess. A pot of noodles bubbled happily on the stove top while a lurching, burping pan of sauce made volcanic pops. The backsplash and floor were covered. My mouth fell open.

"I turned the burner off. It's still cooling," she said. "It tastes good," she added as an afterthought. She ran her fingers down a sauce-soaked strand of hair. Suddenly, I felt my long lost chivalry flair up.

"Why don't you go take a shower," I said gently. "I'll clean this up."

"No," she said. "It's my fault. I'll--"

"I insist," I said. My mouth was watering; the food did smell delicious. My starvation at sea plan was failing miserably. "Please, go."

She seemed to detect something in my voice that kept her from arguing. She backed up. "Thanks!" she blurted, turning and disappearing into the small bathroom. I ran the mop along the floor.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw another bottle of wine, this one properly opened. I heard the shower turn on; the boat filled with the noise from the water being propelled from the reservoir.

Spaghetti. Wine. A freshly-showered female.

It was a dangerous combination, indeed.

Chapter Fifteen - Life is Everything

"Where did that come from?"

"This? I brought this."

"You brought clothes?"

"That's what people do when they go on a trip!"

I knew I sounded flustered. I didn't mean to sound flustered. After cleaning up the sauce explosion, I had gone back on deck to escape from the noise of the shower. I was standing there self-condeming myself for my thoughts when her hand gently slid along my back. I whirled around.

And there she was. Gone were the capris, t-shirt and green flip-flops. Instead she wore a tiny white sundress. Her feet were bare; her face void of makeup. Her hair was still slightly damp and it tangled in on itself making her look wild and carefree. She smiled at me. My heart squeezed and I panicked.

And that's when I had asked her about bringing clothes.

"People shouldn't wear white when eating Italian," I said. She poked at my white shirt, her thin eyebrow arching.

"Oh?"

Damnit. I shoved my hands in my pockets. I had lost. "Do you need help with the food?" I asked. She smiled and nodded.

Ten minutes later, she sat down a basket of breadsticks and we sat opposite each other. It was the first time I had actually used the on-deck dining. I had fumbled to secure the legs, but in the end it was a decent-sized two-person unit.

"The house wine?" I asked as she lifted the bottle. The red liquid filled my glass.

"I took a couple bottles from the restaurant," she admitted. "Consider it my peace offering."

Aside from a few other boats that had passed by during the course of the day, my own boat seemed transfixed in its own little world. I brought the glass of wine to my lips, taking a sip. It was delicious.

"Your uncle's going to be furious," I said. I picked up my fork and wound a few noodles around it. Rosie took a small bite of a breadstick and pressed her cheek to her hand thoughtfully.

"He trusts me."

I took the noodles, relishing the bite before I responded. "Yeah, well you've only known me a few days. I could be a serial killer."

Her eyes crinkled up. She lifted her fork, dancing it around playfully. "Let me guess. I'm going to swim with the fishes?" Her lips puckered, her eyes grew wide, and she began to make a fish face. I laughed. The sound was foreign; I quickly stared down at my plate. I heard the sound of a fork being placed gently onto a plate.

"The laugh's better than the smile," she said quietly. "Why did you stop?"

I grabbed for my wine glass again, taking another sip. I let the taste invade my entire mouth before swallowing. "I don't want to laugh," I said quietly.

"Why not?"

"It doesn't seem right."

"Why?"

I looked up. Rosie dipped her finger lightly in the sauce, bringing it to her mouth. How would she ever understand?

"Nothing about my life is funny," I said. She drew her finger in more before letting it drop.

"That's not true. Life is everything. It's bad and good. There's a balance." Her cheek indented as if she was biting it lightly. "Do you think your wife wouldn't want you to laugh ever again?"

I pressed myself heavily against the back of my chair. My knuckles were white on the fork; I was afraid my hand was going to begin to shake. I closed my eyes and pictured Lauren, her face close to mine as we laughed over my Freddy Krueger costume. I pictured her serene smile as she stared down at the jack-o-lantern we had spent hours carving. I let out a soft gasp. "She would hate this," I said weakly.

"Then laugh, Nick. Don't keep it inside."

I opened my eyes just in time to see her eyes move from my face to the sky. She held her arms open wide. "It's too beautiful of a night to do this," she declared.

"Do what?"

"Be so serious," she said. She clasped her hands together and picked up her fork. Her bare foot kicked my leg. "Now eat."

I stared down at my plate. I picked up my fork and took a slow bite. Then another. And another...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"And then Tito came running around the corner, holding onto his bottom and about a hundred bees were chasing after him. My mom said it served him right for putting the cooler under a beehive without checking first. My stepdad spent an hour getting stingers out of his ass."

Rosie's face was animated, her cheeks flushed from her third glass of wine. The dishes were piled in the sink downstairs and we were both lounging upstairs in our chairs, the breeze whipping our hair gently. I paused for just a second before laughing. My face relaxed into a smile. "How old were you?"

"Six," she said. "The best part was that Tito's birthday was a week later. Mom went out and got him this bee suit and wrapped it up. You should have seen the look on his face when he unwrapped it." She shook her head. "To this day, the only thing that scares him are bees."

"She sounds a lot like you," I mused. Rosie shook her head.

"No, she was the best. I've never seen anyone work so hard to take care of everything and everybody and yet no matter how stressed she was, she always wore a smile."

I leaned forward. "Like I said," I whispered. "She sounds a lot like you."

My fingers slid out across the table and looped around her wrist. I marveled at how small it was. "Who else would stowaway on a strange man's boat?"

"You're not strange," Rosie said with a smile. "You're special."

"I bet that's what you say to all the boys," I teased. Her eyelids lowered.

"No," she murmured.

"No?" I questioned. I leaned forward. My pulse quickened. "Then what do you say to all the boys?"

Her eyes sparkled. "I say, no," she said with a soft laugh. She tilted her head; I let go of her wrist and slid my hand along the smooth curve of her neck. I felt her shiver. Her lips parted. I leaned over the table, my lips so close to hers I could feel her breath.

"What are you going to say to me?" I whispered.

Her hand slid up my arm, her lashes fluttered. "Yes," she said huskily.

Chapter Sixteen - Drowning

"Yes," she said huskily. The word reverberated in my ears.

Ever so slowly, I brought my lips to hers. I could taste the wine off her sweet, supple lips. Her hand fell from my arm, wrapping loosely around my neck. I started off slow; it had been so long since my last kiss, that I was unsure of myself. Yet, as the rush of delicious passion began to course through my body, I remembered exactly what I loved to do. I pressed my lips hard against her own and grabbed a handful of her soft, blonde hair. I stroked it gently, the feel of it reminding me of silk. Rosie seemed to sense my urgency at the deepening of the kiss. She let out a sexy little gasp; the parting of her lips gave me entrance to her hot mouth. I slid my tongue slowly along her teeth and then deeper still; the action caused her to dig her nails into my neck, eliciting a deep moan from the back of my own throat. At that, her tongue pressed playfully against my own, rolling gently. The air temperature seemed to soar.

It was about this time that I realized I had a table in my way. I stood slowly, desperate not to break our kiss. Rosie's hands dropped from my neck. She slid out from the table and stood up, but her height put me at a serious disadvantage. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I sank onto the deck, pulling her down with me.

With her body against mine, I felt hungry. I felt alive. I pulled my lips from hers and trailed sweet kisses down her chin to her neck. I could still taste the body wash that she had showered with and I sucked greedily at her skin.

"Nick." Her breath came in short gasps; her hands wrapped around me and slid under my shirt. Her palm against my bare skin felt erotic. She moved her head then, my lips losing their place on her neck. She bit down lightly on my shoulder, her body wiggling against mine.

It may seem hard to believe, considering my reputation, but I had sworn off of every type of sexual activity after Lauren's death. It didn't seem important and besides, the celibacy had never once bothered me. Until now. In a matter of seconds, all of the years of inactivity came to a rushing boil. I felt myself harden the minute her teeth pressed into my shoulder. I could smell the sex. I pulled back, delighting in the way her teeth scrapped over the fabric of my shirt and rolled so that she was sprawled out on the floor. She looked up at me, her eyes darkened, her chest heaving. Her eyes drifted down my body, lingering just below my waist. She sucked in her bottom lip.

I pressed my hands along the base of her throat, beginning a journey to her shoulders. I spread my fingers wide, inching my hands along until I held the straps of her sundress. I held my breath as I pulled the tiny white supports down off her shoulders, my eyes trained on her chest. Inch by glorious inch the swell of her breasts became more apparent to the point where I lowered my head and nuzzled the loosened fabric. I quickly let go of the straps; my hands found their way to the soft sensuous mounds that fell from the dress. I squeezed them lightly, marveling in the way they felt before stroking her nipples lightly. They budded almost immediately. I took one, then the other in my teeth, flicking them quickly with my tongue.

"Oh my God," Rosie cried out. Her legs jerked and her hands lifted my shirt even more. I nudged out of it; as I did, I felt her firm thighs press into my sides. I pressed my left hand to her waist and I shifted slightly, my right hand sliding between her legs. My breath caught; I was surprised at how aroused she was. Her tiny panties were moist, quickly becoming more so as my fingers pushed the material down to her knees and I stroked her opening.

"Oh my God," she repeated.

"Touch me," I whispered.

I didn't need to ask twice. I sat back between her legs. She sat up and I pressed my lips to the top of her head as she undid my pants. Her hands slid around, pulling them down off my hips and ass. Her fingers looped around the waistband of my boxers and repeated the action.

"Oh," she exclaimed. I could hear the awe in her voice. I became light-headed in anticipation.

As her hand wrapped around my throbbing member, I let out a strangled cry. I had forgotten how good it felt to be touched. She stroked slowly at first, then faster and faster. My hands went back to her breasts.

"Slow down," I begged. It had been too long and I knew I wasn't going to be able to hold on much longer. Her movement slowed. I swallowed hard, grabbed her hands, and brought her back down. Her lips quivered slightly as I placed my hands on either side of her head. She arched forward, kissing me passionately. Her fingers made lazy circles around my navel; as I rubbed her thighs, preparing to enter her. In her eagerness, she reached down and stroked me one more time.

Unfortunately, it was one stroke too many. My body bucked; I felt myself let go, the thick liquid spilling out over her legs. I pulled away, staring down in mortification. Rosie sat up, staring down in surprise. She looked at me. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't."

I barely heard her. The world came crashing back down around me. What the hell was I doing? I ran a hand down my face, my chest heaving and my body drenched in sweat. I brought my shirt to her legs and began to wipe the mess.

It was a sign; I was convinced of it. I wasn't supposed to have sex ever again. This was my punishment. I couldn't even contain myself. I was like a stupid fifteen year old kid again.

My next thought was even worse. Tears burned behind my eyelids.

"Nick, no," Rosie said. "Don't do this."

She stroked my face, but I yanked away and scrambled to my feet.

"You don't understand," I said numbly. "I can't do this to her."

"Nick, you're not doing anything wrong. She's de--"

"Shut up. Just SHUT UP!" I screamed. My vulnerability was palpable. I could still taste Rosie's kiss on my lips. I felt her on my fingers. My chest constricted; I was seconds away from a panic attack. I grabbed my clothes.

"Please, let's talk," Rosie said tearfully. I avoided her gaze as I walked quickly to the hatch. I practically threw myself down the stairs. Once down, I flung my body towards the bathroom, closing and locking the door. I crumpled to the floor.

"I'm sorry," I moaned. "I'm so sorry Laur. God, I'm sorry," I bawled. Somehow, I managed to drag myself to the shower. For a long time, I sat there, my body folded up awkwardly in the small stall with the water pouring down.

I had cheated on Lauren.

And she was never going to forgive me.

Chapter Seventeen - Things Aren't Always What They Seem

There's a simple fact about taking showers on a boat: there's only so long you can try to drown yourself before the reservoir runs out and the equipment begins to falter under strain. Sailors are supposed to take a quick wash off (if they take a shower at all); for those who want a longer dip, there's the ocean. And, really, can you think of anyone who's ever suffered drowning by low-pressure shower?

Even so, I didn't want to go out and face Rosie; if I was being really truthful wtih myself, it was more like I didn't know how to face her. Part of me wished I didn't have to, but I knew that she couldn't go anywhere. We were in the middle of the ocean.

The captain and the stowaway.

My body was still zinging through a vertible rainbow of emotions as I stood shivering in the bathroom, a towel wrapped around my waist. The muscles in my thighs twitched; I could still feel Rosie's hungry kisses against my jawline. Sexual desire tingled below the surface, practically taunting me. I had kept it buried for so long; now it was raging in the back of my mind, reawakened and hungry.

But, I was going to have to make that desire disappear again. For good. I had only been faithful to one woman in my whole damn life and I wasn't going to stop being faithful to Lauren. Ever. I wrapped my hands around the sink, focusing on my breathing. My chest still ached from my meltdown in the shower.

The breathing helped. I knew what I had to do. I had to talk to Rosie. I had to turn the boat around, drop her off at home, and put as much distance between the two of us that I possibly could.

Then I was going to finally take Brian's advice and see a psychologist. Again. Since obviously the first one hadn't done his damn job. I didn't need to sob over my wedding album; it didn't help the pain. I didn't have to watch the video of the plane crash. Did he seriously think that would help me heal? To know that my wife's child-carrying body was motionless in the rubble?

No, I needed something else. Maybe shock therapy. Or hypnotism.

Or maybe a herd of robot aliens could come down from their home planet and zap my brain.

A little brain zapping never hurt anyone.

I was still thinking about robot aliens as I tugged on a pair of pajama pants and a sweatshirt. I shoved my hands in the front pocket and took a deep breath before heading back up on deck.

The sun had completely set. One small solar light swung from a pole, illuminating just a small patch of the deck. That patch was empty. I found Rosie sitting on the deck. She had changed (I didn't wrap my mind around her undressing out in the open) into an outfit very similar to mine. Her chin rested gently against her knees. Her eyes were closed.

"H-hey," I said. I coughed to clear the sudden rise of phlegm that had taken hold of my vocal chords.

She looked up slowly. "Hey," she repeated.

When she sat back I noticed she had been clutching her newly uncasted arm close to her body. I knelt down beside her, my finger hovering, but not touching her skin.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Are you?"

I wanted to flinch away, but I struggled to maintain my crouching tiger pose. "I'm sorry," I said quietly. "That shouldn't have happened and it was--"

"I wanted it to happen," she said. Her voice had a slight edge to it. She stared up at me and I saw the seriousness etched there.

"I didn't," I said coldly.

"Oh really? Because it looked--"

"Things aren't always what they seem," I shot back.

"Things are exactly what they seem," she said. Her forehead wrinkled in frustration. She scrambled to her feet, wincing slightly and clutching her wrist. "You're just scared to live again. But Nick, your wife's dead and nothing can bring her back." Rosie's eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry about that; I really am. And I know how you feel. I would do anything to see my mom and dad again, but I know they're not in pain."

She stepped close to me; I was still frozen in my crouched position. She bent her body over me, her knees pressing into my back, and wrapped her good arm loosely around her neck.

"They're not in pain anymore," she whispered. I felt a warm drop hit the crown of my head. "I know with all my heart that she wouldn't want you hurting down here. She'll be waiting for you one day when you're old and gray and I bet the last thing she'd want to hear about is a life of sorrow."

I licked my lips. The sea air had already made them bone dry. "Oh? And you think she'd want to hear about my life with another woman?"

More tears hit my head; my eyes flickered down to the deck as my chest rose and fell. Rosie laughed softly.

"I think if you found the right girl, the right girl might be willing to share you up in those clouds. Not before then, mind you, but--"

"And who's the right girl, Rosie?"

She didn't answer. Her arm fell from around my neck. I sat back and watched as she made her way to the railing.

"I don't know," she said evenly. "But neither will you if you don't take a chance."

"I think we can both agree I screwed up my chance," I said sourly. She didn't turn my way, but I saw her lips curve into a smile.

"No, I can guarantee you that you didn't."

I didn't respond. Rosie leaned weakly against the rail. She grabbed for her hand again.

"Your arm?" I guessed. She nodded.

"I think I might have done too much too soon," she admitted.

I stood up and closed the distance between us. She didn't argue when I gingerly took her arm. Her wrist was swollen.

"You need to sleep with some ice on it," I said. "I'll get you some ice and you go down and get in bed."

Her pretty eyes fluttered open at the word 'bed.' I knew I needed to clarify.

"I'm going to sleep out under the stars," I added gently. She nodded.

"Okay," she whispered. She sucked her lower lip into her mouth, nibbling it for just a second. "And tomorrow?"

I thought back to my initial intentions. I had wanted to march out on deck, declare that I was taking her home, and run. But now...

"We'll see," I said.

Her face broke into a brilliant smile. She backed up.

"That's good enough for me." She disappeared below deck and I glanced up at the stars for a minute. My eyes became transfixed on the brightest one, directly overhead.

"I just want to know, Laur," I whispered.

"Really? Is it her?"

I stood there for the longest time waiting for an answer.

Something told me it was an answer I was going to have to figure out for myself.

Chapter Eighteen - Mana'o Nani

Seen a lot of broken hearts go sailing by
Phantom ships, lost at sea
And one of them is mine

I was a man of my word. After Rosie went down to get into bed, I put together an ice pack. My temples pounded. For the first time in a very long time, I had met someone who didn't try to heal me by making generic observations about the grieving process. The generic I could ignore; things like 'time heals all wounds' amounted to nothing more than bullshit for me.

Rosie's words were harder to forget. She was blunt and it hurt. It wasn't as if I didn't know that Lauren was never coming back. I knew that those types of miracles didn't happen. I knew that time would never make what happened any less harder to accept.

But taking a chance. That was the heart of the matter. No one had ever stood before me like Rosie had and basically tested my chicken-hood. Maybe they were scared to do that.

And maybe it was exactly what I needed.

With all of those thoughts pouring through my mind, I assembled an ice pack and climbed below deck. It was quiet. I didn't know how long I had taken getting the ice. I just knew I moved a lot slower than I used to do in my 'kaotic' years. My eyes struggled to adjust to the new lack of lighting; just a small beam from a nightlight illuminated the cabin.

My first thought when I saw Rosie curled up in bed, her freshly uncasted arm resting on her chest, was that she looked like Goldilocks. The bed was huge and her tiny frame barely made a dent in the cavernous space. She was already asleep; I noted the even rise and fall of her chest. Even in sleep, she had a tiny smile tucked at the corner of her lips. A strand of her hair curved around her neck, the golden hue contrasting oddly with the shadows.

It was observations like these that brought me back to an uneasy reality. I hadn't noticed a woman's features in years, and yet here I was standing there staring at this girl as if taking a permanent mental inventory.

Exhaling a breath I didn't realize I was holding, I crept towards the bed. Ever so slowly I gingerly placed the icepack on her swollen wrist. Her body jerked with the cold; her left eye opened a crack.

"Just brought you the ice pack," I whispered. My tongue felt swollen and clumsy.

"Thank you," she whispered back. "Mana'o nani." I wasn't sure I heard her right. I leaned in closer. "What?"

She tilted her head slightly upwards. I felt her lips graze my cheek.

"It means sweet dreams in Hawaiian," she said. Her head sank back into the pillows. I turned my face to look at her, but she had already shut her eyes.

"Sweet dreams," I repeated slowly. I stood there for a minute until I began to feel like too much of a voyeur. I had two choices: climb in next to her or go back on deck.

The decision came automatically.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Do you know what time it is?"

I picked at the tough skin on the heel of my foot and snorted a nose full of salty air. "No, what time is it?"

"It's one a.m. Where are you? I've tried calling you a half dozen times and--"

"I took a trip."

"A trip to where?"

"Nowhere."

"Nick," Brian's voice was filled with that sort of fatherly patience. He didn't say anything else; not that he had to anyhow. He was more than another member of the band; he was one of my best friends. Besides, I had known Brian since, well...forever. At least it seemed that way. After flopping back up on deck like a wounded bird leaving Rosie to her attractive slumber, I had suddenly felt inspired to hear his voice. Now, the voice was finally continuing to speak. "You shouldn't be going on trips alone. It's not good--"

"I'm not exactly alone," I interrupted. I pulled a flaky piece of skin and held it up in front of my face. I made a face. Nick Carter, the guy who used to have girls falling to their knees in front of him, had really gross feet. I flicked the skin and absent-mindedly pulled back on my big toe.

"Who's with you?"

"Well, no one really. She's--"

"She?"

Brian suddenly sounded a lot more awake. And interested. And less concerned. It was funny how one word could change the direction of a conversation.

"I met her on this island and she kind of stowed away in my boat," I explained. It was a short story that didn't even begin to cover what really happened.

"And?" Bri pressed.

"And what?"

"Obviously you haven't shipped her back to where she came from! Is she pretty?"

My mental image of Goldilocks came back into my mind. I let go of my toe and stretched my legs out in front of me. I brought my left foot up onto my right and heel scratched vigorously, enjoying the feel of the gnarled skin that I had just picked.

"She's nice," I said, wincing right after I said it. Nice was a term used to describe a new shirt, a Girl Scout selling cookies, or a bunny rabbit. It wasn't a term used to describe Rosie.

Except it really was. She was all-around nice.

"Nice?" Brian repeated. "Or niiii-icccce?"

It couldn't be helped; I was just glad he wasn't around to see. I smiled. "How do you know the difference anymore?"

Bri laughed. "Because Leighanne is and will always be niiii-icccee."

"This girl's both," I said quietly.

"Nick," Bri's voice lost it's teasing quality. All I could hear was sincerity. "This is exactly what you need. It's been a long time and--"

"She just stowed away," I argued. "That's it. It's not like--"

I trailed off. My fingers tingled thinking about the way she had felt earlier. I clamped my hand to my throat, feeling the tension in my Adam's apple.

"I just don't know how to do it," I admitted.

"Do what?"

"B--be romantic," I whispered. "Love."

There it was. My unconscious had finally gotten to the purpose for calling Brian. Anyone else would have laughed at me if I had admitted I didn't remember the romance department. I was the King of romance.

Or I was.

But Brian didn't laugh. For the next hour he gave me advice as only Brian Littrell could give advice on women and relationships. When he finally ran out of encouragement, he let out a sigh that sounded more relieved than anything else.

"I've missed you," he admitted.

"I just saw you not that long ago," I reminded him.

There was a pause. "I think you know what I mean, Nick," Brian replied. "This is the first time in a very long time that you've sounded like yourself. Maybe this trip was a good idea."

My eyes were growing tired. As I stared out at the water, I thought I saw a couple ships in the far distance. I blinked rapidly and leaned forward; as I did so, the shadows sank back into waves.

"I hope so," I replied. "I really do. Hey, it's getting late here too. I just...thanks for talking to me."

"Any time. Call me when you get back."

After making that promise, I hung up and slid the phone in my pocket. I did a full body stretch, scooting down in my chair. Brian's advice rang in my ears. I just had to decide whether or not to actually use it.

I ended up making that decision in my sleep. With my limbs flung over the chair and my ass half-hanging off the end, I succumbed to dreams. Rosie's wish of mana'o nani worked. Her magic flung the ghosts out of the recesses of my relaxed state of mind. Instead of replaying firey crashes and intangible loved ones, I was thrown into a picturesque day at the beach...

And Goldie was right there with me the whole time.

Chapter Nineteen - Just What the Doctor Ordered

It shouldn't have seemed so odd to awaken to a quiet boat, but it was. I had gotten used to a certain someone hovering in my face with a breakfast tray or a few bubbly words. Instead I awoke to the smell of the ocean, the sound of a jet ski, and an empty deck.

I wiped the gunk out of my eyes and pulled out my phone. The first thing I noticed was that the battery was almost dead. The second thing I noticed was that it was almost nine.

Now, nine isn't late. Especially for the old Nick. But, the sun had been up for quite awhile and I had slept through it even though it threatened to be a scorcher of a day. And, just from our short contact, I knew that Rosie was an early riser. The fact that she was nowhere around raised a red flag.

So, needless to say, I was concerned.

I untangled my body from my awkward sleeping position and stood up. My back ached slightly. I lifted my leg and scratched my calf with the tips of my toenails. After hiding my morning wood, I ventured down to the cabin.

The sun was streaming through the small window to the right of the bed. Light illuminated the whole room, including the small figure still asleep in my bed. Unfortuantely, I quickly honed in on the pained look on her face.

"Rosie?" I asked. I pressed my thighs into the mattress and leaned towards her. The ice pack had turned to water overnight. I lifted it and inspected her wrist and groaned. Angry dark purple bruises had combined with the swelling that had worsened over night. She was giving the Hamburger Helper glove a run for his money.

"Rosie," I repeated, this time more of a statement than a question. She groaned and I watched a flurry of activity go on beneath her lashes before she finally opened her eyes. When she did, the look of pain increased.

"Your wrist is worse," I said.

"It hurts like a bitch," she gasped. She held onto her arm as she sat up. When she looked down, I knew right away that this time she couldn't pass off her recklessness in her usually la-de-da way.

"Do you think I refractured it?" she asked. She looked up at me. I stared into her eyes; I decided to be just as honest with her as she was with me.

"I think you did," I said. "I'm going to get the GPS programmed for the nearest port. You need a doctor."

She gave me a look of pure gratitude. "God, I really am a pain in the ass," she said.

I smiled. "Yeah, but sometimes a little pain isn't such a bad thing."

Her delicate eyebrow arched. "You're smiling. And what you just said actually sounds optimistic." I shrugged, feeling a flush crawl up my neck. "I guess it must be the power of mama'o nani," I said lightly. "Just stay in bed," I instructed.

She didn't argue. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tap. Tap. Tap-a-tap-tap. Tap. Tap. Tap-a-tap-tap.

Rosie was driving me nuts. I had directed the boat towards the first medical center my GPS hit upon. It took me exactly two minutes after arriving at the facility to learn that she hated hospitals. She was nervous, irritable, and overall edgy. After an endless wait in the waiting room, we had finally been directed to an exam room.

Currently, she was sitting on the exam table and tapping the toe of her shoe against the back of the metal footrest. Hence the 'tap-a-tap-tap.'

"Can I get you anything?" I asked. She stopped the noise for a second and looked at me suspiciously.

"We can get outta here," she said.

"Not until you get your hand looked at," I said. "I can't take you back home like this. Tito will kill me."

She lifted her chin a fraction. "Who says I want to go home?"

"Who says I want to keep you around?"

"Do you?"

Her question hung in the air between us. I suddenly thought back to my conversation with Brian. I had admitted she was nice for crying out loud! That was a big step.

Could I make another?

"Yes," I said. "I want to keep you around. If you're a good little girl and get your hand checked out."

Her eyes widened; she was right in the middle of getting ready to tap again when I literally saw her foot jerk away from the back of the rest.

"You're taking a chance," she said slowly, as if testing for clarification.

"I'm going to try," I said.

"That's very manly of you."

It was my turn to look at her in surprise. "Who said I wasn't a man before?"

"No one did! I'm just saying that was a very 'man-ly' statement. Not that you're not a man. I kinda know that because of yester--"

"Okay, okay, I get what you're saying," I said quickly before she gave me a recap of what had happened to bring about my little meltdown. That would be the quickest way to get me to backtrack.

"But, y'know," I said, feeling my ego rust a little. "I'm a very manly man. I scratch what I wanna scratch, I don't change my underwear every day, I brush my teeth only when I feel like it and I--"

"Nick," Rosie said, her shoulders starting to shake. "Stop while you're ahead."

"Did I prove my point?"

"Totally," she assured me.

I was in the middle of proving my point about scratching what I needed to scratch when the door opened and the doctor walked in. One hour and several x-rays later, we had the diagnosis.

"A splint," Rosie groaned. "For how long?"

"A couple weeks. By taking the cast off yourself you managed to reform the fracture just slightly. The splint will help the bone finish healing and it won't be quite as cumbersome as the cast."

Rosie scowled. "Great."

"This gives me a chance to take care of you," I said. She looked over at me in surprise. I smiled. "Since you've kinda been taking care of me."

Her gaze softened. The doctor slowly turned her newly splinted wrist and nodded.

"She's going to need a little assistance," the doctor agreed.

"I'm independent," she argued. The doctor took a step back, his mouth twitching slightly. I was smart enough to keep my mouth shut, but it just so happened it took one manly man to catch her just a minute later as she tripped off the table.

"Okay, so I might need a little help," she whispered for only me to hear. I nuzzled my cheek against her hair.

"I'll see what I can do," I whispered back.

"After all it is what the doctor ordered."

Chapter Twenty - Of Carts and Kisses

"I don't know if I consider this help," I said.

Two smooth legs dangled over the edge of the shopping cart I was pushing. One blonde hair tipped back, pressing up against the small upper basket of the cart. Rosie giggled.

"The pain meds that guy gave me aren't allowing me to walk in a straight line and I need s'mores. So, all this," she waved her good arm around, "is help."

I pressed my elbows into the cart, pushing her slowly. Her eyes strayed to the shelves. "Halt! Marshmallows!"

Now, I've heard of a lot of cures to combat the effects of drugs, but s'mores was a new one. As we left the doctor's office, I didn't even get Rosie near the cheap rental car before she had begged me for a trip to the grocery store.

And here we were.

"How do you suggest I make these s'mores?" I asked as I tossed her the bag of marshmallows. "I can't build a fire on my boat."

Nestling the gooey puffs to her chest, she used her nail to make a small opening in the bag. She popped a marshmallow in her mouth and looked up at me, chewing vigorously.

"Haven't choo ever made s'mores on the 'tove?" she asked.

"The stove?"

She smiled and I got a view of the white stuff floating in her mouth.

"Oh, Nickers."

I didn't answer. My mind had taken a total dive. I got behind the cart and pushed with a little more force. I swung through the aisles and loaded up on the graham crackers, chocolate, and some other grocery items. Rosie popped a couple more marshmallows and I headed to the check out line.

You would have thought that the cashier had never seen a grown woman draped inside a cart before. Rosie handed her the open bag with a smile to which the cashier responded with an unamused stare.

"Those carts are for groceries," the cashier said. Rosie didn't bat an eye

"I'm injured and on pain meds. Did you really want me to drive a motorized cart around this store, lady?" she asked. "'Cause I don't even have a driver's license."

I bit the inside of my cheek as the cashier slid my credit card, her jaw noticeably tensing. She ignored the question and handed me my receipt.

I started to laugh as I pushed the cart out of the store.

"You don't have your driver's license?" I asked.

"Nope!" she said cheerfully. "You've seen it yourself. My little neck of the island is made for walking."

"Yeah, but you might not always call that place home."

She turned and looked at me. I refused to decipher the question in her eyes.

"Since you're groceries, should I put you in the trunk?" I asked in attempt to lighten the air. Rosie held up the bags and I swung them in the backseat.

"I'm claustrophobic," she said. I turned to her and she held out her arm.

"Really?"

"Really."

I ignored her arm and went straight for her waist. The cart flew backwards as I pulled her easily out. She grabbed onto me and laughed.

She felt good in my arms. It was a beautiful, sunny day and my ears hungrily devoured her laughter. As I leaned down to kiss her, my mind suddenly sent time spinning backwards.

"Since when did a cart become a skateboard?"

I grinned. "Ever since God invented wheels."

Lauren's eyes sparkled as she grabbed the last bag from the cart. "I think cavemen invented wheels."

I took the bag from her, tossing it in the backseat. I pressed my ass against the car and looped my arm around her, pressing her against me. Her hands landed lovingly on my shoulders. "Well, they say we ARE descended from the cave people," I said suggestively. My hand slid down and groped her ass.

Lauren tilted her head and laughed. "You, yes." She looked around. "We're in a PARKING lot."

"So?"

I nudged her chin. She lifted her head as I pressed my lips hard against her throat. She moaned.

"Remind me again why I married you?" she mumbled. I felt her nails dig into the skin near my collarbone and smiled.

"That's what I'm doing," I said. In one swift motion, I turned her towards the door and hurled us into the backseat...

Just like that I came crashing back. My tongue was eagerly exploring the hot inside of Rosie's mouth; my hands had slid to her ass. I pulled back with a gasp, quickly trying to sort present from the past.

"Wow," Rosie said. She slumped against the car, her fingers brushing her lips.

"Yeah," I said, blinkly quickly. I took a deep breath. I wasn't going to freak out. Not this time. My flashback wasn't a bad sign. It wasn't. I kept repeating that silently to myself as I regained my barings. I opened the passenger door.

"Let's drop off the car and head out," I said in what I hoped was a light, not insane strain of voice. Rosie's smile confirmed I had succeeded.

"Sounds like a plan."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"That flame's too high. Turn it down."

"Wouldn't it be easier just to microwave these things?"

"What would be the fun in that? Now put the marshmallow on the kabob skewer."

The day had gone quickly. After returned to the boat, the meds had kicked in full force, knocking Rosie out for several hours. I spent the time putting away the groceries and thinking about the weird juxtaposition of my parking lot kisses and working through my guilty feelings. By the time Rosie woke up, I felt back in control.

At least until we started the s'mores. I followed her instructions, sliding the marshmallow onto the skewer. Rosie played with the flame a little more and nodded.

"Roast it!"

It wasn't that I didn't know how multi-functional a stove was; I couldn't begin to count how many times I had seen my sister light her cigarette using the flame from the burner. Still, I couldn't remember ever cooking a marshmallow this way.

"I like mine gooey," Rosie said.

I wasn't sure how to judge the gooey factor, but a few minutes later, I noticed the way the marshmallow began to slip on the skewer and I figured that was the point of pretty good consistancy. Rosie grabbed two graham crackers and a hunk of chocolate. I pressed the marshmallow on to the piece of chocolate and cracker that she held stacked in her hand and I took the other piece of graham wobbling on the edge of her palm from her. I used that top piece to pull the thing completely from its skewer. We both watched as the marshmallow oozed over the cracker, dripping along her fingers. It was the second time in a day my mind went gutteral.

"Perfect," she said. She brought the sweet sandwich to her mouth and took a big bite. My mouth went dry. How the hell were s'mores erotic?

Without thinking, I reached for her hand. I plucked the s'more from her and brought her gooey fingers to my mouth, slowly licking the sweetness from each one. She moaned. She wiggled.

Then she gasped.

I was inwardly priding myself on having my groove back when her gasp turned into a squeal. The squealing didn't sound quite as hot as her other responses. I paused, the tip of her pinky in my mouth. Rosie's eyes were wide.

"Nick...your...your shirt's on fire!"

Chapter Twenty One - As Long As You're Here with Me

Raising my glass, I sing a toast to the midnight sky
I wonder why
The stars don't seem to guide me

"That is a horrible shirt."

"Are you serious?"

"Maybe you should have kept the burnt one on."

I looked down. It had been years, years since I had worn my bright pink 'Some Acid and Jazz' t-shirt. It was one of those things that I wore on a photo shoot and someone had just told me to keep. And besides, it was one of the few t-shirts I owned that didn't have holes under the pits.

"This is cool," I argued.

"In what decade?" Rosie shot back.

"Obviously the decade in which I was alive and you weren't even a thought yet," I retorted.

She laughed. "Touche."

I had dug up a blanket and we were laying on our backs on the deck of the boat, staring up at the sky. For the first night in what seemed like forever, the cloud cover was heavy enough to block out every single star in the sky. I could practically smell the rain brewing.

Rosie had found my Sirius radio and it was on, primarily for background noise. We had been having little bursts of conversations like the one over my shirt for at least the past hour. I rolled over on my side and studied her profile.

"So, Miss Twenty Questions," I said lightly. "What's the biggest age difference between you and one of your old boyfriends?"

Rosie's eyes darted to me, but just as quickly she returned to her astute study of the sky. "I don't know," she said. "Age is just a number."

"Yeah, but it's a number that can be used to do math problems to give me an answer," I prodded. I slid my hand along the blanket and ran it along her side. She inhaled quickly.

"Maybe two or three years," she said.

"Were you ever deeply, madly in love?"

I waited for a long-winded answer, but instead she rolled over to face me, bringing her knee up between us and resting her splint on her hip.

"No."

I looked at her in surprise. "No? Just like that, you can honestly just say no?"

"Yes, I can just say no," she said seriously. "I know what love is; what you and your wife had was true love. I've never hurt that bad when a relationship didn't work out and that to me means it wasn't love."

"Is that why you're here?" I asked. Rosie frowned.

"I don't understand what you mean."

"Did you hide away on my boat to get out and see more of the world in order to fall in love?"

Her lips curved into a smile. "The truth?"

I nodded. "The truth."

She bit her lip for a second, kneading it with her front teeth. Before she answered, she rolled back and sat up, her hair falling over her shoulders. I sat up beside her. She slapped her knee with her good hand and looked back at me.

"I think I'm a victim of love at first sight."

"Love at firs--"

"There's something about you. The moment I knelt down after pouring all that coffee in your lap and looked into your eyes, I just...I just knew."

"Knew?"

She broke into a grin. "That I could easily love you."

I was speechless. My mouth opened, but nothing came out. Rosie didn't seem to notice; she had begun to ramble and she just carried on.

"The hard part was...well is finding out if you could love me back. I mean, when I found out about your wife I knew that it wasn't that you just didn't like me. And knowing that we've both had such big losses just drew me even closer to you. That's why I snuck on your boat. I spent that entire evening after you dropped me off thinking about spending the rest of my life stuck in my same boring routine and I just couldn't do it. I need you as much as you need me."

"Rosie..." I said slowly. I stared up at the sky, but I knew even if the stars were out that they wouldn't be giving me the response I needed for what she had just said.

"Yes?"

"This could end really badly," I said on an exhale. "I'm trying, but I'm still like the walking wounded."

"Better walking wounded than walking dead. I don't dig zombies."

"I'm serious."

"So am I. Zombies have even worse hygiene issues than you."

It couldn't be helped. She was sitting there looking so serious and hopeful. I wrapped my arms around her, planted my face in her shoulder, and laughed. I felt her good hand slide into my hair. After my laughter died down, I turned my face, keeping my cheek on her shoulder and enjoying the feel of her nails against my scalp.

"What do you do for a living?" she asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

I slowly pulled away from her. "I sing."

She looked surprised. "You sing?"

I thought back to when I had first told her my name. At first, I thought she might have been playing innocent at not recognizing me. It seemed like I had lived forever in a bubble where everyone knew me. But I could see Rosie's sincerity: she had no frickin' clue who I was.

For a half a second, I thought about not telling her anymore. It was refreshing to just be Nick, and not only just Nick, but a really screwed up, pathetic version at that. But, she had been nothing but honest with me so far, and I felt like she deserved the same.

"Have you ever heard of the Backstreet Boys?"

"I think they were around when I was like eight...or nine. I don't know anything about them and--" she stopped.

Rosie's mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened. This happened several times before she continued speaking.

"You're not going to tell me you're one of them and that you're rich and famous, right? Because you bought generic store marshmallows. And the one pair of socks I've seen you wear has a hole exposing your entire heel. And--"

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't amused. I grinned as I interrupted her. "I'm rich. I'm famous. But I'm normal."

"Normal," Rosie repeated.

"Abnormal in a normal sort of way," I corrected.

She gawked at me. "You're serious about this."

"I can...I can prove it," I said, before seriously thinking it through. My anxiety rose ten-fold. Besides what I had to do for shows, I didn't sing for enjoyment anymore. My guitars were locked up in a storage facility back in Cali. I--

"Okay," Rosie said. "Prove it."

I leaned over and turned the radio off just as the clock on the display flipped to midnight. I cleared my throat and sat back. I could feel her eyes on me; I could sense a high level of doubt. I swallowed, letting my throat moisten from the saliva.

Then I just let it go. Old school. Acapella.

Although loneliness has always been a friend of mine
I'm leavin' my life in your hands
People say I'm crazy and that I am blind
Risking it all in a glance
And how you got me blind is still a mystery
I can't get you out of my head
Don't care what is written in your history
As long as you're here with me

Once I started, I didn't stop. I didn't stop until the entire song had poured out of me. I held the last note for an eternity before I finally risked looking at Rosie for her reaction.

"Well?" I asked. "Do you belie---?"

It was the typical reaction I got when I used to use my power of serenade to attract the ladies, but still it had been so long it kind of knocked me for a loop. She was in my lap before I had even finished my question, kissing me hungrily. She pulled away only once, just long enough to whisper four little words that did way more than just imply what she wanted. Unconsciously, it had been what I had been wanting all day as well.

"Take me to bed."

Chapter Twenty Two - The Moment of No Return

"Take me to bed."

"Take me to bed."

I grinned. "Baby, you've been teasing my like crazy for months. If I take you to bed, I gotta warn ya, I'm never letting you out of it."

Lauren's hand moved along her thigh and my gaze drifted from the traffic in front of me. She lifted her short skirt until I saw the fleshy 'v' between her legs.

She wasn't wearing panties.

"Does that answer your question?" she asked with a laugh.

I nodded hungrily. I couldn't believe I had been shoveling my face full of steak when she had been sitting right next to me with the air flowing directly to her--

The sound of a horn blaring right behind me pulled my gaze from paradise. Lauren pressed her hand to my cheek and turned my face back to the windshield.

"Like I said; take me home..."

"And take me to bed."

"Nick?"

I blinked rapidly. Rosie's face was less than an inch from mine. "What...what do you say?"

My hands were wrapped tightly around the back of her legs. I could feel the heat eminating from her. My chest ached.

Memory.

Reality.

"Close your eyes," I replied.

Her emerald eyes fluttered closed. Her thighs tightened around my waist as I scooped her up, the blanket underneath my feet. I kicked it away as I headed towards the stairs.

So many things were running through my mind. My natural maleness was plotting out just how fast I could get her top off and my head buried in her breasts; my ego was praying I wouldn't have another early performance; my soft side was wondering if sex with another woman would ever be as meaningful as it was with Lauren. And way down deep, buried farther than it had ever been, was the committed part of me that was still telling me 'no.'

The huge bed that Rosie had slept in alone was soon filled with her body and my larger one looming over her. My command to keep her eyes closed was forgotten; as soon as her head hit the pillow those hot green eyes were burning back into my blue ones. Her good hand wrapped around the pink shirt she hated so much.

"I don't want you to hurt your hand again," I said slowly. "Just relax." I stroked her face; her hand fell from my shirt and she nodded.

"Okay."

Yes, I was looking out for her hand. But more importantly, I was making sure that if I was going to do this, I was really going to do it.

As my hands lifted her shirt and my fingers ran over her smooth stomach, I was once again reminded of how doll-like she was. I lowered my head and ran my tongue along her navel, a navel that was just a slight little indention in her skin. Her hand slid through my hair and she practically hummed as my tongue flicked farther up until I hit the sharp underwire of her bra. My hands slid underneath her, finding the clasp. I let my breath fall heavily on her freshly licked skin as I freed her from the confines of the lacy article. I slid my hands around, using my thumbs to lift the cups to bare her breasts.

Her nipples were already erect. I nuzzled my face in between the soft mounds, the flaming licks of desire building in my gut. I locked my mouth around first one bud, then the next, flicking my tongue out quickly and eagerly, relentless until her moans became to much for my straining pants to take. I sat back, immediately noticing the burning flush spread across Rosie's face and the way her bottom lip quivered ever so slightly. She watched transfixed as I tossed off my shirt and worked on my jeans. I slid off the bed and discarded my clothes. Before I got back on, I grabbed the bottom of her shorts and yanked. They slid off her slender hips.

"Kaos," she said shakily. I looked at her.

"What?"

"Your tattoo...says kaos," she said. She used her good hand to completely remove her shirt and bra. She draped a hand modestly over her exposed breasts. I smiled, sliding my hands up her legs as I crawled back over her.

"It's my nickname," I said. I pulled her hand away, cupped each breast, and kissed her hard. Only the thin scrap of her panties seperated her and me. She bit down lightly on my lip before pulling away.

"I haven't seen you make chaos," she teased. My hands slid from her ample chest until my thumbs hooked under her panties; she arched her hips as I wiggled them down off of her. Her thigh pressed against my erection.

"You're about to," I said, my voice thick with desire. For a split second I thought I saw a flash of hesitation, but she looped her arm around my neck, her hand sliding down my back.

"Prove it," she said.

The challenge got to me. I had something to prove and damnit I was going to prove it. I kissed her again, my tongue taking no holds barred as I moved into her mouth. She moaned as I grabbed her hips; her legs wrapped around my waist and she arched up to me. Somewhere in the distance I barely registered the sound of thunder. The heat coming off our bodies had already turned my skin slick. I couldn't wait any longer. I knew if her hand moved from my back anywhere else that I would lose it again. I withdrew my tongue and nipped at her swelling lips as I eased myself with agonizing slowness into her, relishing in the memory of how fucking amazing sex was. At the same time Rosie's body bucked underneath me; at first I thought it was just from the impatience of waiting, but one more slow push made me realize the real reason. I was facing a barrier I had only encountered one other time in my life; a time in my life when I hadn't considered what a big deal it was. My eyes flew open and I withdrew from her just as a flash of lightning illuminated the cabin. Rosie's eyes met mine.

"Why didn't you tell me? I can't do this," I gasped.

"I might have forgotten to mention it," she said in a meek voice. "But, I want you to," she said quickly. Her thighs quivered against my sides.

I shook my head. "It's too important. You'll never forget it and--"

"I would never forget this no matter what. Nick, please," she begged. "You feel so good."

"I can't take your virginity. I can't commit to--"

Rosie's hand closed into a fist; it fell back and slammed the mattress hard. "I don't want a commitment, I just want you damnit!" she screamed in frustration.

Maybe it was her screaming and bucking underneath me; I don't know. Or maybe it was the realization that this was going to raise the playing field. Either way I pressed my hand gently over her raging mouth. When I withdrew my hand, I kissed her softly.

"Tell me if I need to stop," I whispered.

Another clap of thunder filled the room with sound, but I saw the nod of her head. I eased myself back until I was where I was before. Again, I hesitated.

"Do it," she begged.

It was the moment of no return. I couldn't prolong it any longer; for her sake or for mine. I placed my palm against her neck and broke through. Rosie couldn't hide the spasm of pain that crossed her face or the catch of breath, but it was quickly replaced with a smile and a dozen eager kisses planted along my jawline.

She felt so damn good that I thought I was going to die. I fought the waves of spasms created by the intensity of the previously unexplored territory. Her legs tightened around me as her body relaxed and got used to the feel.

"Don't stop," she moaned. "Don't ever stop."

"I...I have to," I groaned. I didn't want her first time to be a two or three minute ordeal, but there was only so much I could take. And neither of us had protection. "We're not safe."

"Just one more minute," she groaned. My hand slapped the wall as she grabbed my ass. I didn't know why women found my ass so appealing, but my body sure loved every minute of it. Her internal wall muscles were pulling me in more and I knew I was doomed. My body slammed into hers one last time, my face contracting as I felt the rush of release. I let my face fall into her neck, her cries ringing in my ear.

Several minutes passed before the high ended and reality hit.

I had just had sex for the first time in two years. With a virgin. On a boat. In the middle of a thunderstorm. Unprotected.

Lightning hadn't struck me dead. Lauren's ghost hadn't come out and cursed me to hell. In fact, the rain had eased up to a soft patter on the window. Rosie's legs were still wrapped around me and I could feel her heart racing as she pressed against me and I held her close.

I was suddenly exhausted. I knew that there was going to be so much to talk about in the morning, but until then...

I was going to try for another night of sweet dreams.

And I wasn't going to be sleeping alone.

Chapter Twenty Three - Mind Over Matter

"I made french toast!"

I was jostled awake by the shifting of the mattress. Sometime during the night I had procured a light sheet; it was twisted like a snake around my body. I opened my eyes and for a moment looked at Rosie in confusion. She was wearing my Acid and Jazz t-shirt and holding a tray with some wicked looking syrupy toast. I was sure I was dreaming: wasn't that every man's fantasy?

And then it came back to me.

"Morning," I said quickly, sitting up. I scratched at the stubble that had erupted on my chin. "H-how are you?"

"Great," she said breathlessly. "Are you hungry?"

My stomach growled as the smell of cinnamon invaded my nostrils. "Yeah, I am."

She crawled onto the bed, bringing the tray with her. She handed me a fork and cut off a huge hunk of toast. I grabbed one of the glasses of orange juice and took a sip.

"About last night..."

Rosie waved her fork in my direction. "I know what you're going to say. And I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? About what?"

Rosie cut another piece of toast and held it out to me. I paused for a second before taking the bite.

Delicious.

"I should have told you I was a virgin when you asked about my boyfriends. I just didn't want to scare you off."

"So you just figured you'd get me so worked up I couldn't possibly resist?" I asked with a smile. She laughed.

"Yes."

"It worked."

She smiled as she worked on another piece of toast. "I know," she said softly.

"Listen, Rosie," I said seropisl;y. "I don't know where this is going to end up, but we can't do what we did last night again. I mean, we were both free-ballin' it and I'm just not ready to handle the possible consequences of that."

"Me either," she admitted. "That's why we need to make another stop today."

"Agreed," I said. We continued to work through the plate in amicable silence.

Just two lovers enjoying the morning after.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Babe, you don't need those."

"What? Of course I do. We're out. Double-X-L," I waved the box suggestively. "For your pleasure," I said in my best, yet still horrible Barry White voice.

Lauren laughed, taking the box from me. "No, I mean, we don't need them."

I looked at her in confusion. "What? But I thought we decided it wasn't the right time to keep trying. With the tour and all..."

I had never seen her smile like she did at that moment. "We don't have to keep trying."

My eyes went from the smile, back to the box in her hand, and then back to the smile. When the realization hit; my eyes zoomed straight to the ceiling. The rest of me fell backward.

When the lovely old lady from the Wal-mart Pharmacy had tossed enough smelling salts under my nose to wake me up, the first thing I did was scramble to my feet, grabbing Lauren's hands.

"Tell it to me straight."

"You knocked me up. I'm pregnant."

"Say it again."

She laughed, but I could tell that she was regretting telling me the news in a giant ass superstore. "I'm pregnant!" she said in a loud whisper. She smiled again.

My God, did she glow.

"Nick, uhm, do you know what to get?"

Rosie nudged my arm and I jumped. I didn't know why I was suddenly being thrust into the middle of memories. The last one especially hurt. That had been such a happy moment. It was the first time I had linked myself with the concept of fatherhood.

It was such short lived joy.

"You were just staring straight ahead. What were you thinking about?" she inquired.

"N-nothing," I said. "It's just they've got some new brands out since the last time..." I trailed off lamely. I grabbed my old Trojan stand-bys. "These are good."

"I'll take your word for it," Rosie teased. I spotted the pharmacy bag in her hand.

"And you--"

"Plan B," she admitted. "No need to worry about last night for the next two weeks."

"Right," I said. I fiddled with the box.

"Nick, something's wrong," Rosie said quietly. "What gives?"

"If it's a girl I'm thinking Bridgette."

"Neither of us are French," I argued.

Lauren smiled. "I've just always liked the name!"

"What kind of nickname can you give a girl named Bridgette? Bridge? That's a card game. Or a structure that connects two pieces of land."

Lauren rolled her eyes. "We can call her Gigi."

"That sounds like something you'd call a poodle."

I knew it was the wrong thing to say before I said it. Lauren's forehead creased. "Well then, what do YOU suggest?"

"I like Kassidy," I said. "You could call her Kassie. Or if it's a boy, Konner."

"So you could call him Kon?" Lauren asked. "As in ex-con?"

"Is this the hormones talking?" I asked hopefully.

I got an extremely heavy edition of 1,000 Baby Names and Their Meanings tossed at my head. Lauren burst into tears.

"YES!"

"Nick, sit down."

My tailbone suddenly connected with the uncomfortable wrought iron pharmacy bench and my eyes refocused underneath the horrible florescent lighting. I hunched forward, feeling nauseous. Rosie leaned in towards me, her hand pressing into my thigh.

"What's going on?" she asked. "Don't tell me nothing."

"Flashbacks. They're just coming up when I least expect them," I mumbled.

"About your wife?"

I nodded. I expected to hear a sigh of some sort. That's what happened after you slept with someone. Their patience disappeared.

But Rosie didn't sigh. She turned my face towards hers; she just looked concerned.

"Maybe you need to talk to someone about what that means," she suggested gently. "Especially if they're happening more...now."

"That would mean going home," I argued.

"It does," she agreed. "But that doesn't mean once we get there that we can't leave again if you need it."

"We?"

Rosie stood up. It was the only time she hovered above me. "You said you weren't ready to get rid of me yet," she said lightly.

I swallowed hard. I had a hard time thinking about her in my house. She seemed like one of those natural things that you just didn't put in an urban setting.

"You're sure?" I asked. She nodded.

"I don't think I can help you work out what's up here," she continued, tapping my forehead. "Maybe just here." she leaned over and tapped my heart. I smiled and grabbed her hand.

"Trust me, you've done more for me than over a year with my old shrink accomplished," I assured her, standing up. "Maybe I've just spent so long in memories that they're having a hard time letting them go."

Rosie let go of my hand; she handed me the box I had dropped. Double X-L.

"Now you just have to find someone that helps you figure out how to stop being sucked back in," she said.

"Babe, you don't need those."

"I'm pregnant..."

I took a step forward, feeling as if I had just been cursed to be The Time Traveler's Wife or something. (Not that I would ever admit to watching that movie. But, damn, it was basically just two hours of a naked guy's ass! No wonder they call that stuff chick flicks. Lauren had practically gobbled up the screen...)

Something told me that it was going to be easier said than done to get me to stay completely in the present.

Lauren was letting me live again...

But she wasn't going to totally let me go.

Chapter Twenty Four - A Little Bit of Jizzle in My Life

"Are you sure you took it right?"

"I'm sure. This is a side effect. The waves aren't helping. Ugh, I still have one more to take in four hours."

Rosie was hanging over the rail of the boat, her hair held back with a rubber band she had taken off of a wilted bag of lettuce. She blanched and lurched forward, gagging. I walked over, my own stomach rolling just at the thought of upchucked french toast, and held onto her ponytail.

"Nick, this toilet seat is GROSS."

"You might not want to STARE at the seat while you're throwing up."

"I've never stared at this seat as much as I have the last few days. Oh my god, I don't want to know what this light brown spot it."

I held Lauren's long dark hair in my hands, straddling her long frame. She lurched forward and the dulcet sounds of vomiting filled the air. I ran my fingers up and down her hair, thinking about a much better time when we had been in this position but she was getting ridden bare back instead of tossing up her stomach.

Of course, THAT type of thing had probably gotten us to the upchucking part.

"Maybe we should just move," I suggested as she reached for a wad of toilet paper.

"Over a toilet seat?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

Lauren laughed and gagged at the same time.

"Let me introduce you to Mr. Clean..."

"Oh God, that was gross. Nick, does it look like that fish is eating it?"

"Nick?"

My hand fell from her ponytail. I looked at her pasty face. "You want fish?" I asked in confusion.

Her eyes dimmed. She pointed towards the water. "No, the fish is eating-- nevermind."

"I've sorry. I was spacing out again."

"It's okay. How long before we get back?"

"Once I get behind the wheel again? About a day."

Rosie pulled herself away from the railing. "I'm going to go call Uncle Tito," she said. "I want to update him on where I'm going."

"He's going to want you back."

Rosie flashed me a smile. "I know. That's when I'll pretend I've got a bad connection."

Her hand slid against my chest as she walked past me. I turned back towards the water. I dug my hand into my pocket and pulled out my cellphone. Hesitantly, I punched the five on my phone and listening to the Enya callback tone until I wanted to slam my head against the rail.

"Hello?"

"Hey," I said. I cleared my throat. "Hey."

"Nick? Dude, where've you been? I tried calling you twice about golf. And of course D's been trying to get us all together to talk about when we're going to pick back up again."

"Yeah," I said slowly. "I just needed to get away."

AJ hummed in understanding. "How ya doing?"

I took a step back from the rail in order to lift my leg and put it up on the lower safety bar. "I called to cash in on that offer you gave me awhile back."

"Which offer?" he asked. When he spoke again, he sounded excited. "The club? I'm telling ya, you won't be sorry. Runway girls having fuckin' landing strips. You kinda want to just get down and jaw."

I didn't say it, but I couldn't help but think it: that type of statement was the reason his marriage had only lasted six months.

"No, I meant the referral to your psychologist. You said she's good?"

"Oh, that." J sounded disappointed. "Yeah, she's really good. I mean, I haven't exactly had a good time following her advice, but..."

"How soon do you think I could get in?"

"I dunno. I can make some calls and get back to you. Are you doing okay?"

"I'm having a hard time right now and I just need to break through this wall."

"Nick, I'm going to say it again. The only way you're gonna break through that wall is if you get back into the game. I bet most of it's from all that build-up. Get a porno and just do it already. Or, let me take you to Runway. There's this blonde--"

I had to smile. Speaking to AJ was so damn different than talking to Brian. Brian's advice was full of honesty and long-range planning.

AJ's advice was full of living in the minute and strippers.

"You're right," I said. "There is this blonde."

"Wait, there's a girl? That's progress. Where'd you get her?"

"Sand Island in Hawaii."

"You fucker. You're in Hawaii?"

"No, we're heading home."

"We're?"

"I'm bringing the girl I met with me."

J laughed. "Damn. So what's her name?"

"Rosie."

"How old is she?"

"Twenty four."

"Nice."

I don't know why, but I looked behind me. Rosie was still below. I turned back to the water.

"She's gorgeous," I admitted.

"Did you finally get a load off your mind?"

I ran my tongue over my teeth. I hadn't done a whitening in forever.

"You could say that," I said lightly. "I kinda got a surprise."

"What type of surprise?" J asked curiously. He moaned. "Don't tell me she was double- jointed. You lucky bastard."

"No, not that," I said. "Then...?"

"She was a virgin."

J was quiet for all of thirty seconds. "Let me get this straight. You don't open a box of cracker jacks for two years and the first time you do you get the prize? I hate you."

"Those types of analogies are the reason you're single," I pointed out. "Cracker jack box?"

"I never said I was eloquent," he replied. He coughed deeply; it was a smoker's cough.

"Smoking again?"

"Don't lecture me. Tell me more about this girl. I'm happy for you. Everyone agrees it was overdue."

"That's the thing," I said. I needed to circle around to my point for calling. "I'm having some emotional issues because of things and I need to talk to someone."

"What type of issues?" J asked. "Oh," he said before I had a chance to reply. "are you screaming out the wrong name while you're hitting it?"

A wave of horror washed over me. I hadn't done that. Yet. I had done it before during my carousel of girlfriend years. I knew the aftermath of screaming another girl's name was worse than death.

"No!" I said. "I just keep thinking about Lauren."

J sighed. "You've got to let her go," he said gently.

"That's easier said than done," I argued. "Can you...can you just get me in to your quack?"

"I'll work my magic," he promised. "I'll give you a call back when I know something."

"Thank you," I said gratefully.

"A virgin," J muttered, almost to himself. "Nice."

All of a sudden, a blur of gold came into view. Rosie's head flew over the rail; brownish yellow liquid poured out of her mouth. Acid mixed with cinnamon. Lovely.

"I gotta go," I said quickly. "Bye."

I slammed my phone shut and picked up her ponytail. My other hand pressed against her back, rubbing in slow, gentle circles.

"Don't take that other pill," I said.

Her voice came drifting up from her watery projectory. "But--"

"It's not worth it," I assured her.

"It's just not worth it."

Chapter Twenty Five - One in a Million

"Have you ever been to Cali before?"

"Once. Mom and dad took me to Disneyland."

"Anaheim's nice, but it's nothing like L.A.," I said with a smile. "L.A.'s a creature all it's own."

Rosie did her best to look impressed, but in the end she tossed her head against my arm and closed her eyes. The last thirty-six hours had been rough. After her nausea had subsided, a storm had popped out of nowhere. The waves weren't extremely bad, but it tossed the boat to and fro, slowed down my progress, and left her unable to sleep.

"Thank you for using Malibu Marine!" the perky, augmented clerk behind the desk chirped as she held out the key to my convertible. I took it hesitantly.

Back to the real world.

Rosie was back to her lime green flip-flops. I nudged her head and she followed me out to the parking lot. Everything I had dragged on board the boat had been stuffed into a luggage cart.

"Wait here," I instructed. "I'll pull the car around."

Rosie brought her hand to her mouth, smothering a yawn. "No problem," she assured me.

My car had been moved further and further back in the never-ending parking lot. It looked to me like it had only been about two days away from being tipped over and rolled down into the ocean. I couldn't help but walk around the ebony beauty, running my hand over it to check for scratches. It was flawless.

Feeling the need to impress, I put the top down before climbing in. The engine roared to life; the gas tank was still three-quarters full. I pulled out of the parking spot, my arm draped over the entire front seat and headed towards the entrance to the Malibu Marine building.

Rosie had followed my instructions to a 't;' she had crawled up on the luggage cart, her face smashed into a life-jacket. Her eyes were closed, her arms wrapped around her own little bag she had snuck on board. Her left flip-flop dangled from her big toe. I smiled. Not just any girl could manage to fit perfectly on a luggage cart. I hopped out of the car, popped the trunk, and tip-toed up to the cart.

She never heard me coming. My hand wrapped around her slender ankle and I slid her towards me, unable to look away as her shirt rode up. Her eyes flew open. Her good arm shot out, trying to grab something to hold onto. My hand pressed against her bare stomach.

"You fell asleep that fast?" I asked.

She stopped fighting. looked up at me, and relaxed. "It might surprise you, but if I don't get at least six hours of sleep every night, I will crawl into any corner I can find to get some z's."

"Look, I think this is my favorite!"

Lauren knelt down next to my knees, holding up the picture she held in her hand. Her camera danced between her breasts. I grinned, plucking the matte photo from her and turned it to see her masterpiece. The moment I saw what had gotten her so excited, I groaned.

"Really? Couldn't you have caught Howie doing this? He's kind of the master."

"No, you're the master. I can't believe you got yourself scrunched back there."

"It might surprise you, but if I'm exhausted, I will crawl into any corner I can find to get some z's," I said with a grin.

"You'll wrap your arm around anything you can find too," Lauren said with a giggle. "She opened her large leather case and pulled out another photo. "THIS photo would make any girl fall in love with you."

I studied the photo of me and Igby. The dog's eyes were open; he looked terrified...

And I looked like a five-year old with a five o'clock shadow.

"I'm kinda scared to see what picture you'll pull out next. You take one with me sleeping bare-assed too?"

Lauren lifted her long body up, her hands sliding up my thighs. I tossed the photos on the couch beside me, running my hand through her hair.

"I'm going to have to get you naked first," she teased. Her head lowered; I felt her lips pressed against the inside of my thigh. My head fell back on the couch and I swallowed hard.

"I don't think you'll have any problem with that..."

"Where'd you go?"

My hand was still on Rosie's stomach; my other arm was raised, clinging to the luggage rack. I groaned, pressing my face into my bicep.

"You're just talking to the guy who fell asleep scrunched into the corner of an econo-van," I said. I took a deep breath, my heart clawing madly at my chest.

I wanted to be back on that couch so bad it hurt.

Rosie's body slid from under my touch. She popped up under my arm, her good hand wrapped around the luggage rack.

"Let's get everything loaded up," she said quietly. "This is your car? Damn..."

"This is the first car I've ever taken care of. I don't even speed in it...well, I don't speed that much," I explained. Rosie laughed.

"Considering how well you moved that boat through the storm, I'd say you're probably an even greater force to be reckoned with on the road," she teased.

"The foot is mighty on the accelerator," I said in mock-seriousness. The banter was clearing my head. I popped the trunk and began to transfer luggage. Rosie walked around to the front of the car. I was just stuffing my chairs in, using my butt as a pseudo-hammer when I heard the pop of the hood. I leaned over just in time to see Rosie's body disappear under the lifted shiny black cover.

"What are you doing?"

"Checking out the engine."

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning. "What do you know about engines?"

"Just because I don't drive doesn't mean that my male-centric family hasn't taught me all this stuff. Do you realize you have a slight leak around your distributor cap?"

"A what? Where?" I asked.

"You've got some oil leaking out around the distributor cap," Rosie repeated. When she looked up at me, I saw a light oily brown streak on her cheek. I leaned up against the trunk and started to laugh. My shoulders relaxed.

Nowhere in my mind was a flashback that would take me away from that moment. Lauren hadn't been a car girl. She would have never told me that I had a leak in my whatever-cap. She would have never crawled underneath the hood to stare down at a bunch of car parts and hoses.

"You're one in a million, you know that?" I asked when the laughter finally stopped. Rosie placed her hand on her hip and tilted her head.

"Just helping you take care of business," she said lightly, but I could tell my compliment had made her happy. She took a step back.

"There's just one thing..."

"What?"

Rosie gave a little jump for emphasis.

"I can't reach the hood."

Chapter Twenty Six - I Keep Falling Down

"This is it. Casa de Carter."

Rosie's head was turning rapidly as she surveyed the new surroundings. She had seemed to find the concept of an underground parking garage fascinating. She had clung to her bag quietly as we took the elevator up to the condo. She lifted her foot and enscratched the back of her ankle with her toes as I inserted the key into the lock.

We entered to dead silence. My dogs were still in the kennel; the only sign that someone had been in my place since I left was the huge pile of mail by the door. I threw my keys on a small table and threw my duffel bags somewhere in the vicinity of the hall. I felt Rosie's warmth as she stepped incredibly close to me. I turned on the light.

"You really like leather," she said as she stepped around me, gazing at the large sectional that molded my ass like heaven and the person and a half recliner that I used for ultimate football viewing.

"I'm a big fan," I said with a little smile.

"If you take a picture of me, you die."

"What? C'mon...you paraded around on stage in the smallest blue bikini I've ever seen and you think this is worse? Come out here and let me see you."

The bathroom door opened a crack. One warning eye shot out.

"This is the last time I let you buy me clothes," she said.

I grinned. "That good?"

The door opened wider. One naked leg emerged, followed by another. Tight leather lingerie accented her curves. I almost purred.

"Holy hell do I love leather," I growled.

"Leather jackets, yes. This? No. Nick, for God's sake, I SQUEAK."

To prove her point, she ran her palm over one rounded swell. Sure enough, the contact made her squeak.

It made me want her more.

"C'mere and we'll fix the squeaking," I said.

"I dress like this and all you do is put on white boxer briefs?" Lauren said, taking a step back. I extended my pointer finger, crooking it towards me.

"Ebony and ivory, baby," I teased.

"Let's make music."

"She's beautiful."

The branded image of the leather bra faded into the soft swell of the arm of the couch. Rosie was perched right on its edge, a large silver frame in hand.

"Don't touch that!" I said, the words coming to my mouth automatically. I swooped in, taking the picture and setting it down exactly where I had it before. Rosie looked up at me, paling.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "It just caught my eye."

I sucked in a breath. How couldn't the picture catch someone's eye? My beautiful Lauren on our wedding day, her cheeks tinged just a shade lighter than the roses she held to her breasts. The pure white dress seemed to go on for miles; she had looked like a princess...

And I was just a peasant with a flask hidden in my pocket, courtesy of AJ. He had told me to have one for him; I had obliged. But the moment I saw her walking towards me, I became perfectly sober.

"No, I'm sorry. It's just...no one's touched it. It belongs there," I stammered. Rosie nodded, her eyes slowly circling the room.

"Great pictures," she said.

I followed her gaze as if I had never seen the room before. Almost every bit of wall space was taken up by photos. Most were of Lauren or of the two of us together. Right after her death, I had taken down my framed albums and trophies; I had scrounged around every single box of photos Lauren had taken and surrounded myself with her.

It had seemed like the only way to escape the loneliness.

"She was tall," Rosie added as an afterthought.

"She was," I agreed. "She towered over the other guy's wives."

"Okay. Nick and Lauren, why don't you guys stand on the left? Brian and Leigh, right next to them. Face to the right. Howie, Leigh, look to the left. AJ, you and Rochelle do the same."

We were at the 2009 Latin MTV Music Awards. I couldn't take my eyes off of Lauren. Everything I had ever heard about little black dresses was summed up by the little one she wore. Her heels made her slightly taller than me. She seemed to understand the insult to injury; she leaned back slightly, grasping my hand.

"Better?" she whispered. I laughed.

"Better."

"How's the weather up there?" Brian teased.

"I'm sick of being the shortest one," Leighanne complained.

"Monkee, you look terrific," AJ cooed.

"So do you, monkee. You should rock the gray vest more often."

"Everyone say queso!" Howie said.

"QUESO!"

"Nick?"

Shit. I had done it again. I tugged at the ends of my hair, feeling a giant ball of frustration well up into my stomach. I had to stop it.

"Sorry," I said. "Why don't I show you your room and you can unpack? You've got an adjoining bathroom. Go take a bubble bath and relax. I have a few phone calls I need to make."

"A bubble bath sounds nice," Rosie said. She scooped up her bag and rose from the couch. I gave one backwards glance to Lauren's wedding picture before heading towards the stairs.

The upstairs walls held almost as many pictures as the living room. I steeled my eyes against stopping and getting lost in yet another memory. I noted the dust on the doorknob of the guest room as I pushed it open. A light layer of dust rose from the carpet.

My maid was slacking again.

"Here you go," I said, flicking on the light.

Lauren had decorated the room. It was the complete opposite of my designer style which was more leather and whatever else I could throw together that was comfortable. The guest room was done in cream and light brown. The large bed was covered with a comforter in light blue. The door to the bathroom was ajar; showcasing the large tub.

"This is beautiful," Rosie said. She took a tentative step inside.

I fought the panic. I had been home barely an hour and already the horror of having another woman walking through the condo Lauren had heavily decorated was freaking me out. The doorknob was soon covered in a thick layer of sweat coming from my palm.

"Unpack. Relax," I said, my tongue feeling as if it was almost swelling in my mouth. Rosie turned.

"Are you okay?"

I nodded. "Just gotta make those calls," I blubbered. I closed the door quickly, shutting her inside the room. I could barely hear the sound of her bag hitting the mattress.

I scrambled to the master bedroom. The minute I sat on the bed, the tear I had fought so hard to keep at bay slipped down my cheek. I grabbed the handset off the nightstand and jabbed at the numbers.

"Hello?"

"I'm back. Do you have that referral for me?"

AJ sighed. "I can't get ahold of anyone over there. I keep getting a message about a two-week vacation."

"Fuck," I sighed. "Okay, thanks an--"

"When do I get to meet the girl?"

"What girl?"

"Your boat chick!"

I wiped at the tear. "We'll get together this weekend," I promised. "Maybe golf and dinner."

"Sweet. I'll keep asking around about a psych for you, man."

"Thanks," I said. We talked for a few more minutes before I hung up.

For a long time, I stared at the phone in my hands.

If my arrival home was any indication, I was going to have to talk to someone and soon. Otherwise, I was going to be forced to cash in what was left of my man card and shoot down any hope of a normal future.

My gut told me I needed to keep the short, lime-green flip-flop wearing, car loving girl in the next room around. And if her pale face was any indication, I wasn't going to succeed if I kept falling down.

Chapter Twenty Seven - You Look Like You Just Saw a Ghost

"AJ, this is Rosie. Rosie, this is my boy AJ."

Rosie held out her hand and smiled. "Nice to meet you."

"Eh, fuck the hand," AJ said. Rosie's eyes widened, but before she could begin to overthink things, AJ hugged her.

"You're just as gorgeous as Nick said you were."

Rosie looked up at me. I smiled. "I might have mentioned it a time or two."

Her face lit up. I wrapped my arm around her, running my hand along her bare shoulder. The red sundress she wore provided a startling contrast to the blonde hair cascading around her shoulders and down her back. She leaned into me and for the first time since I had brought her home, I felt a tiny bit of hope.

The past few days had been rough. Lauren was everywhere in the house and I was often torn between the agony of guilt coursing through me and the everlasting ache in my heart that I couldn't shake. Rosie had been tip-toeing around my moods, but I could tell that I was having a negative effect on her normally bubbly demeanor. I also knew I wasn't being fair.

That's why I had kept my promise to AJ that when the weekend rolled around, I'd let him meet my 'mystery girl.' I was hoping that a night out would help loosen me up.

"So you ready to see some real California nightlife?" AJ asked.

"I'd love to," Rosie said. "But I've gotta warn you. You might not be able to pull me away."

AJ grinned at me.

"I like her."

I smiled and looked down. Rosie's bright salmon nailpolish contrasted horribly with the red sandals she wore. She bounced slightly from heel to heel. Excitement radiated from her. She was ready to become a Cali girl.

But all I could think about was AJ's declaration. I like her.

Well, J, I thought. I like her too.

And then some.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"So here's this scrawny short guy getting tossed outta the room in his underwear by Kevin. Now you gotta remember Kevin's about as tall as Nick is now and Nick was just this little shrimp. So, anyhow Kevin closes the door and Nick turns around and just starts pounding at it, yelling at the top of his lungs. I'm pretty sure he might have even wet himself a little."

Rosie laughed into her glass. She covered her mouth and looked at me. "They were really mean to you," she said. I could tell she was enjoying herself. Of course, I was too. The three Long Island Iced Teas I had downed were getting to me. I pointed a finger at AJ and smiled.

"This guy said he had my back. He didn't have my back."

"I was almost as scrawny as you! We were outnumbered! Besides, I had a bowl of M&M's and I really didn't want to be torn away from them. M&M's were my sex before sex became my sex."

"I don't remember anytime when sex wasn't your sex," I shot back. AJ smiled over his glass of virgin daquiri.

"Touche."

"So Nick's had a lot of girls?" Rosie asked. She looked between the two of us. AJ and I made eye contact.

"Well, not a lot of girls," AJ said awkwardly. "Maybe just a..."

"A lot," I interrupted. There was no reason to lie. One afternoon on Google would produce a laundry list of girls. It was the revolving Carter door. "Once upon a time I was horny, stupid, immature, and self-absorbed."

"Now he's just stupid," AJ quipped.

"Shut the fuck--" I began to say, but I stopped. Rosie's hand had found my thigh. Her little hand felt amazing. My body twitched slightly.

"Dance with me," she said. "Or I'll ask AJ."

If I hadn't been willing to say yes before (which I was), I was even more willing to get out on the dance floor once I saw the lust in AJ's eyes. I took her good hand and stood up, lifting her arm above her head.

"C'mon Flip-Flops, let's do it."

I'm pretty sure I heard AJ humming Rihanna's S&M as I led Rosie out to the floor. His humming eerily faded easily into the club's blaring version of Usher's DJ Got Us Fallin' in Love.

Rosie's fingers had a grip on my black t-shirt as we got to the dance floor. I laughed, tripping over my huge ass sneakers. She pressed her chest up against me.

"While you were in the bathroom, AJ said you had some pretty good moves."

"Did he now?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"Maybe back in the day..."

"Not now?"

The line between inhibition, depression, and enjoyment was narrowing as more of the alcohol hit my brain. I turned her around and pressed my groin into her back.

"Keep up...if you can," I said huskily.

Rosie might have been wearing flip-flops, but the girl kept up. And more. She lifted her arm and wrapped it around my neck as she shimmied, her dress floating back and forth right above her knees.

"Hey that's my boy, Nick Carter out there ya'all!" the DJ cried, breaking into the song for just a moment. I glanced up at the DJ booth in surprise. Lani gave me a thumbs up. I paled. I hadn't seen Lani since...

Since he was the DJ at my wedding.

"Dude, you should have plaster-cized yourselves and put a little miniature right on top of your cake. That's how perfect you two look today."

I laughed. "You're just saying that 'cause I paid you well."

"Bullshit," Lani said with a grin. "I'm saying that 'cause you remembered to have the waiter serve me some dinner."

"We'll get you liquored up too if you remember what buttons to press," Lauren teased. She nestled into my arm, her flushed face pressing against my white dress shirt. Lani leaned over the booth and slapped me on the shoulder.

"Best decision you've ever made man. Right here..."

"Nick...Nick."

AJ's hard voice jolted me back. Rosie had taken a couple of steps back, her eyes filled with distress.

"Dude, how often does this happen?"

"What?"

"You just froze. You look like you just saw a...a ghost."

I ran my hand through my hair. Lani was once again jamming to a record, but his eyes kept flickering over to me. Rosie took a couple steps forward and grabbed my arm.

"I think we just need to get some fresh air," she conjoled.

My senses were slowly returning. AJ was still watching me, eerily with the same look that Kevin used to give him when he stumbled into rehearsals high.

"You need to talk to someone bad," he said. "No matter what I'll get with you tomorrow. I promise."

Rosie tugged on my arm even as she gave AJ a warm smile. "Thank you," she said gently. "Nick, it's okay, c'mon..."

I felt like I was being a little kid led away from traffic by his mother as we wove through the crowds.

A ghost. That's exactly what was happening. All the familiar people and places were bringing Lauren's ghost out in full force. She was relentlessly playing on my mind, reminding me of the good times...

"Wait," I said as Rosie stepped towards the car. She paused.

"We're not going back just yet."

I had caught a big whiff of the surf coming off of the Santa Monica pier. It was almost midnight and it was a clear, cloudless night.

"What? Nick, what are you--"

"I want to go swimming."

"Swimming?" Rosie's eyes widened. "Nick, I'm not going to let you drow yourself."

"I'm not going to drown myself," I said. "I just need to go swimming. With you."

"My hand..."

"I'll go buy a million baggies," I said. I think she could tell how maniac and desperate I was. My face was probably screaming 'cuckoo!' as I rambled.

"Swimming? Okay, if that's what you need..."

"That's exactly what I need."

Chapter Twenty Eight - You're Special

"Nick, stop and just talk."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"You're acting crazy."

"I was crazy before you met me."

"Not this kinda crazy..."

Rosie's voice dipped low as she stared out the window at the vast beach looming ahead. I whipped off my seatbelt, my fingers slipping clumsily.

"C'mon," I begged.

"I'm only going with you so you don't do something stupid. Like kill yourself," she yelled out as she reached for her seatbelt.

By the time she got out of the car, I already had my shirt off, jogging backwards.

"First tell me why we're going swimming," she said. She kicked off her flip-flops.

"Because it's something I've never done before."

The slight breeze picked up her dress as she walked towards me. I popped the button on my jeans and let them fall to my ankles.

"You've never gone swimming?"

"Of course I've gone swimming," I said. I hooked my finger along the top of her dress and tugged. "C'mon, Rosie."

"Then how can you say this is something you've never done before?" she asked. She pulled back from my touch. "I'm not doing anything until you talk to me."

Her voice was quivering slightly and suddenly I realized I really was scaring her. My body slumped and I turned towards the water.

"They put the beach on high shark alert this morning and I thought we could go swimming."

"Nick!"

"What?"

Rosie glanced at the water. I saw her heel dig deeper into the sand. "If it was daylight, I might say yes, but..."

"Do you think if you saw the shark that you'd be able to outswim it?" I asked. "I just want to be able to say that I swam naked with sharks."

"Naked?"

"Yes," I slid my hands into my boxers and shimmied them down. "Naked."

"I'm not gonna let you do this," she warned.

"Do what?"

"If you want to swim with sharks you hire someone and do it right. You don't just...just jump into the water and...and..."

"Of all people who'd understand, I'd thought it be you," I shot back. Rosie's chest rose and I knew she was sucking in a breath.

"Why is this so important to you?" she finally said.

"I want to do it with you."

"Why?"

I didn't answer. It was kinda hard to keep my rough edge when I was the naked one and she was fully clothed. She walked closer, her feet sliding in the sand. For a second, I thought she was going to slap me. Instead, she pressed her face into my chest.

"This isn't the way," she whispered. "It's not going to make it better. It's not going to make the flashbacks stop. The minute we go back home..."

Automatically, my arms wrapped around her waist. My head fell back, my eyes narrowing up at the sky. I bit my lip to the point where I almost tasted blood.

"Fuck," I whispered.

"I'm falling in love with you," she continued, her lips brushing against my upper abdomen. I could just imagine the soft blonde hairs tickling the pouty skin with every word.

"Because you pity me?" I asked bitterly.

She pulled away. It took her a second to get her hand up to my neck and drag my face back down. I stared into her eyes and saw the emergence of a smile.

"No," she said. "Because I believe in fate."

"Fate sucks."

"Fate plays by its own rules. And it left you stranded on the island for a purpose."

"Your..." I couldn't remember what relative Joshua was or even if he was really related. "That kid hacked my boat."

"Okay, I'll give you that one. But what caused you to come into the restaurant for breakfast?"

"My stomach."

Her face steeled. She wasn't going to give into my retorts that easily.

"Then why did you sleep with me?"

"Because I wanted you. Hell, I needed you," I said automatically.

"Those are a lot of things that end in -ed," she whispered.

A laugh rose in my throat. I pulled her closer. A fuzzy memory of me stripping down in the yellow flower fields of Germany threatened to pull me away, but I pushed it down. I fought against it. "Okay, let me try this without using the past tense. I love all the quirky shit you do. You make life interesting again and you make me want to be who I was before---I think you'd like me," I finished lamely. Her fingers splayed against my back and she tipped her head back.

"I think I will too. But can we get you dressed and forget about sharks? At least for tonight?"

"You want me to get dressed?"

She let out a sound that was half whimper, half moan. "I'm going to hate myself for this---but, yes."

"You're special, Rosie."

She wiggled out of my embrace, her eyes falling to my lower half and her face radiating its appreciation. Even so, she picked up my jeans and boxers and stuffed them into my waiting arms.

"So are you, Nick."

"So are you."

Chapter Twenty Nine - I'm Not Lauren

~~ Two Months Later~~

"Do you want me to go with you?"

"I can do it."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

Rosie looked around the living room. Cardboard boxes were stacked along every available inch of wall. She glanced back at me, my head barely visible over the two large boxes I held in my arms. Three more just like it were waiting in my trunk. I felt her fingertip run along the thick muscle in my arm.

"I'm proud of you."

"It's time," I said, clearing my throat before it became to thick, to suffocating to breath. I wrapped my foot around the door and pushed it open more.

"I'll be back in an hour."

"I'll be here. Just weave through the maze of boxes."

As I headed down the walk towards the shining black convertible parked at the curb, I thought about all the stress of moving. Rosie was handling it well, finding it almost fun to go through stuff that I didn't even know I still had. Moving just seemed like a never-ending thing for me. But this time it hadn't been my idea to move. My therapist had suggested that the best way for me to start again, start again with Rosie, was to seperate myself from the memories. When I had admitted that sometimes the walls seemed to talk, the therapist hadn't called me crazy.

That's when I knew we were going to get along just fine.

The worst part of packing was going through all of Lauren's things. The smell that permeated the walls radiated from every article of clothing still packed in the back of my closet. It wafted as I opened her jewelry box, finding a memory in every pair of earrings. Guys weren't supposed to associate clothes with memories...but somehow I had.

Rosie had left me alone for several days on end as I sat in the walk-in closet, staring up at the ceiling and holding a designer heel in my hands. Half of me wanted to box everything up and move it right along with us.

The other half, the half that was slowly being peeled like an apple knew that it was time to let it all go. Lauren would have wanted it that way. She would have wanted me to give a donation that would keep people employed and clothed.

That was just the type of person she was.

Not that it was easy. When the young girl at Goodwill saw the boxes and saw my convertible, I'm sure she thought it was a prank. When she peeked inside and saw the beautiful silks I think she almost cried.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"I'm sure," I said. As a couple more employees came out to help, I pulled out my checkbook on a whim. Five boxes and one check later, I was gone.

But I felt good. I felt...free.

Rosie was sitting cross-legged in the kitchen, beating out a tune with a wooden spoon on an upturned pot. I leaned into the doorframe, smiling as she bobbed her head like a girl straight out of a totally cheesy, totally epic 80's music video.

"You just need fishnets," I quipped.

She let out a squeal, the wooden spoon falling from her hand. She made a mad scramble towards the cardboard box.

"That was fast!" The startled look smoothed out into one of concern. "You okay?"

I quicky internalized before I answered. Was I fine? I had saved just a few pieces of Lauren's things, things I was going to mail to her sister. She had been waiting far too long for me to get to this point. When the aching pain didn't take over, I smiled.

"I'm okay," I said. Rosie's shoulders relaxed in relief. Her eyes locked on mine as I headed into the kitchen and knelt down next to her, stopping only when I felt her breath. I could smell the telltale aroma of chocolate radiating from her mouth. I cupped her chin, pressing down until her mouth opened slightly. A piece of dark chocolate was rolling around.

"Looks tasty," I whispered. I could feel her throat muscles contract as my pinkie ran slowly in line with her esophagus.

"Delicious," she confirmed. Her eyes crossed slightly.

"So Flip Flops, can I have a nibble?" I asked. She stretched out her leg, kicking the cardboard box out of my way as I settled down next to her on the floor. The oversized sweatshirt she wore slipped off her right shoulder, revealing nothing but bare skin. She smiled.

"You can have the whole thing," she whispered.

The sex-without-guilt portion of my relationship was still the biggest work in progress, but I was banking on my good day to keep my luck going. I lowered my lips to hers, my tongue finding a welcomed home playing right along with hers. I ran my tongue over her own, rolling the chocolate piece into possession. The minute it hit my tastebuds, it exploded in flavor. Rosie didn't seem to lament the loss of the candy; she wiggled her small frame forward, pressing her palms into my chest. I curled my fingers around her waist and pulled my lips away from hers, letting the chocolate slide down my throat. When Rosie's eyes reopened, they were excited...and full of questions.

"I have a whole bag of those things," she said. "If that's what it takes."

I laughed. "I don't need any more...chocolate," I said.

My eyes roamed her body and I smiled at the sight of her nipples clearly visible through her thin t-shirt. She gasped as I nudged her back onto the floor, using my hands to lift her hips slightly from the floor and in the process lifting the shirt up to show her flat abdomen.

"Remember how you told me I didn't seem chaotic?" I asked quietly. She licked her lips as her heels planted themselves right into my ass.

"Yeah?"

"Ask me again in a half hour," I said. I slid my hands down, grabbing the waistband of her dark gray exercise pants, bringing them down to her ankles in a mere second. Only a little scrap of pink cotton covered her lower half.

"Nick, maybe we should talk about this," she gasped. I shook my head, sliding the cotton panties off of her perfect ass and past her muscular calf muscles. I flipped my own body round until my hands were resting posessively on each of her thighs. She was fingering my hair and I could feel the slight all-over quiver beginning within her. "I can handle you depressed," she rationalized. "But I--mahalo nui loaaaaa," she cried out.

The chocolate taste still lingered on my tongue as I ran it along the inside of her thigh. Her muscles jumped; I knew if I wasn't pinning her down she would have already wiggled away. Her breath came faster, filling my ears with its erraticness. I nibbled at the junction between her thigh and her perfect V. The fingernails in my hair went all the way into my scalp.

"I'm scared," she whispered. I looked up, shocked.

Because she had been my rock for the past several months, it was hard to remember that she was much younger and much less experienced than me. If I had thought that she had been jumpy just from my fingers, this was almost tear-producing. For the first time, I realized that she needed me to assure her.

"Hey," I whispered. "Just relax. I won't do anything to hurt you. I want to please you."

"Please me?" she repeated. I grinned. I think the sudden appearance of a true grin threw her off just as much as the question that followed.

"If I make you a dirty girl will you hate me forever?" I asked. My tongue ran along her tender, most private skin. Her whole body jerked.

"Nick..."

It had been forever since I had tasted a woman; had her flavor fill my mouth. I probed deeper, feeling another shockwave pass from her body to mine.

"Does it feel good?" I asked.

"I'm dying," she gasped. "I'm dying."

I took that as a good sign. I continued to lick and nip, moving her closer and closer to climax. I wasn't going to stop until both of us were satiated. I wanted to thank her for everything...for reminding me that there was life going on all around. A rush of warmth and her scream filled my mind as her legs tightened, hooking around my shoulder. I wormed my way up her, swirling my tongue around her bare stomach, my hands sliding up even farther to lift the shirt over her head.

"How did it feel?" I asked.

She blinked rapidly, helping me swing the shirt over her head. Her dark pink nipples grazed against my skin. "I can't even describe...I want to feel you in me."

Besides that first time on the boat, we had only slept together one other hurried, broken time. For me, this was truly like the first time. Rosie's fingers worked on my belt and she crushed her lips to mine. If she was freaked out about tasting herself, she didn't let on.

After a whirlwind of discarded clothing, I had her wrists held loosely under my hands and my length invading her tiny little body. I couldn't tear my eyes from hers. Her hands ran along my shoulders and down my back.

"This is incredible," she whispered.

"You feel amazing. You're so sexy. I want to flip you on all fours and get even deeper."

She shivered. I let go of her wrists and cupped both breasts, squeezing gently. Her back arched.

"Do it."

I lowered my head, drawing a nipple into my mouth and sucking. My pace quickened, my body tightened just thinking about it.

"Do it," she repeated.

I snapped into action. Not wanting to miss the opportunity, I pulled out. Rosie moved herself. My hands ran along her backside as the scent of sex permeated the air. I leaned over and kissed her back before plunging into her.

"Holy shit," she moaned. Waves of blonde hair hid her face as she lowered her chin to her chest, arching up to my movements. "You're huge."

Those were amazing words for a guy to hear. I gripped her little waist moving her along with me. I could feel another climax coming, this time for both of us. I closed my eyes and let my head fall back as the pressure became too much for me to bare.

"Lauren," I moaned in ecstasy, feeling myself pour into her. "Baby...baby..."

It was only after I had let her slender hips go and felt her pull away that I realized I might have done something wrong. When I looked at her, I saw she had flipped back over, naked and dripping.

"I'm not Lauren," she said unsteadily.

"I don't think I can do this anymore."

Chapter Thirty - The Voices Call

"Rosie, I didn't--"

She thrust my pants up towards me, fiery tears igniting her eyes. "I know you didn't mean to," she said. "I just can't do this anymore. I lay in bed at night and the sound of you screaming her name floats down the hall and fills my room. I can't even enter your bedroom without you getting uncomfortable because she still might be there in spirit. And now I'm going to have to live with the knowledge that anytime we have sex, it's always going to be her you're thinking of. Don't you realize what this is doing to me? You're killing me, Nick. You're killing me."

She gasped for breath, her hand sprawled across her abdomen as if she was about ready to double over. I shook my head, the denial still keeping its strong grip on me.

"No," I shot back, pressing the wadded up pants to my crotch. "I don't realize that I scream in my sleep. As for you entering the bedroom, that's why we're moving. Everything else is going to take time, but I'm working at it. I'm working hard. Because I love you."

She shook her head, slipping her sweatshirt on over head head even as I pleaded with my eyes.

"Nick< I love you too," her voice cracked and she took a deep breath. "But, I've coddled you for months. Tito warned me I was biting off more than I could chew and--and I think he might have been right."

I was trying to keep the panic at bay, but I knew it was a losing battle. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," she paused, sliding her slender legs into her exercise pants. "I want to go home."

"We will be going home. Our home. It will make everything better."

Her hair shielded her face. The lack of eye contact spoke volumes. "I'm going back to my home. I miss Tito. I miss everybody. I need my family. This was just a young, dumb girl's reckless adventure. I thought I was going to cure you, but I was wrong. I'm not supergirl. You're better, but you've got such a long way to go and I just don't think I can handle it. The emotions I feel are too strong. They're scaring me.

"If the emotions are strong then that's reason to stay," I said, a hard edge creeping into my voice. "If you go, I'll--"

"You won't," she said firmly. "If there's one thing I know about you, it's that you won't do that."

"I can't lose you too," I begged. "Please."

When she finally looked directly at me, I suddenly realized that the impishness I loved had somehow disappeared from her. I wasn't sure when it had happened, but her devil-may-care attitude had vanished. She was shrouded in maturity, a maturity that must have developed with her innate need to take care of me...

And my epic failure.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "But I need to do this. Maybe...maybe someday..."

She trailed off and I think both of us knew that if she walked off she wasn't going to return.

My little stowaway was setting herself free.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The ghost of you and me
When will it set me free
I hear the voices call
Following footsteps down the hall
Trying to save what's left of my heart and soul

"Nick, it's been a week and you still haven't returned my call. I went over to the new place but it's empty. You there? Pick up."

Beep.

"Nick, it's Brian again. AJ told me he can't get ahold of you. He tried going over to your old place but you didn't answer. Your cell is dead too. We're getting worried."

Beep.

"Hey, it's D. I just heard you've gone MIA. Why am I always the last to know this stuff? Where are you?"

Beep.

"Man, it's Drew. What happened to me getting to meet your new girl? Why aren't you answering your phone? You're such a shit head. Get back with me."

Beep.

"This is Melody from your doctor's office. You've missed your last three appointments. Please call back as soon as you get this message. Thank you."

Beep

I pressed my cheek farther into the white cotton pillow. Time had gotten hazy again. My body had curled in on itself, fetal position style. The beep had disappeared more than four minutes ago and yet it seemed like it was still going off.

Over and over and over...

"ROSIE, NO!"

My eyes snapped open. I had fallen asleep. My mouth was open, my lungs exploding. I gripped the sheets, my eyes caked with days worth of sleep.

And there she was.

There they were.

Rosie and Lauren. A mismatched pair if I had ever seen them, both surrounded by an odd glow. Rosie's face sparkled with the mischief and careful spirit that had drawn me in like a moth to flame. Lauren stared at me with loving, caring eyes.

They both began to walk out of the room.

"NO!" I screamed.

My body uncurled itself and I hurled myself to the ground. My palms burned as they slid along the rug before I scrambled to my feet.

A haze fell over my eyes, but I swear I could hear them talking.

"Sure you don't want to fish?" You obviously know how, Nicky."

Remind me again why I married you?"

"Take me to bed."

"I love you."

I was halfway towards the stairs when my foot caught on a crappy rug. I slammed back down to the ground, landing hard on my chest.

"Nick."

I looked up, my blood running cold. Lauren. Rosie was gone, but Lauren was still there. She knelt down next to me and it was all I could do not to reach out and try to touch her even though the ghostly aura around her told me it would be impossible.

"I miss you so much," I moaned. "I miss both of you."

"It's too late for me," she whispered. "Nick, I don't want you to waste your life. Please, baby. There are people here that need you."

"Like Rosie?"

She didn't answer right away and I feared she would fade away before I could hear her voice again. Finally she let out the softest of sighs. It felt like an air conditioner being turned on directly above my head.

"You need to go to her before it's too late."

"Too late?" The tone of her voice scared me more than the idea that I was talking to a ghost. "What do you mean?"

The glow became much more intense and the clearly defined images of her began to dissolve.

"Go," she whispered. "Love again..."

"And GO."

Suddenly my body jerked. I sat straight up in bed, my soaking wet hair plastered to the back of my neck. I rubbed my face, feeling the long hair of beard and mustache growth that had developed from my lack of grooming. The sun was pouring through my window.

"It was just a dream," I whispered.

"Just a dream."

At that exact moment, the phone rang. I let it roll over to my answering machine again. After my recorded message played, AJ's voice came floating through the room.

"Dude, it's J again. You and Rosie didn't go back to her little island did you? God, I hope not. I just heard about the earthquake. Place is a fucking disaster. If you die, I'm going to kill you. Give me a FUCKING call back, NOW."

Beep.

It took my brain half a minute to digest the actual message. When I did, I slapped at my nightstand, finding the TV remote. I clicked on the TV, my fingers barely able to press the right numbers for CNN. The minute I landed on the channel, I saw the picture...

And I knew.

"Honolulu was hit with a 6.5 earthquake this morning. Sand Island, which lies at the entrance to Honolulu Harbor was at the epicenter. A small tourist stop, it has been almost completely destroyed. Aftershocks have already been reported."

"Crews are on the scene searching for any survivors. So far, only three have been found within the shops on the coastline. Stay tuned to CNN for--"

Click.

Chapter Thirty One - Where There's a Will, There's a Crazy Steve

"Sir, I'm sorry, but there's no flights going in to or leaving Honolulu. There was an earthquake this morning and--"

"I'm well aware there was an earthquake," I said, barely suppressing the rage I felt towards the woman behind the counter. Towards the world. "Where's the nearest I can land?"

She did a couple quick taps, pursing her too-small lips as her eyes scanned her ancient screen.

"Everything's been halted due to a tsunami wa--"

My open hand hit the counter with enough force that the woman flew back on her rolling chair.

"Are you telling me I can't fly West out of California?"

"You can," she said nervously. "You just can't land anywhere near the islands."

It was the last thing that I had wanted to hear. I turned and walked away.

"Thank you for stopping by United Airlines!" she called feebly behind me.

The moment I stepped outside the terminal I went hunched back, hands on knees, trying to keep the overwhelming agony at bay. My temples pounded. I seemed to be aware of every single rib in my body moving as I breathed.

"What's the plan Laur?" I whispered.

"It's the end of the world as we know it! Bwha-ha-ha!"

The voice sounded like Monterey Jack from The Rescue Rangers. It had been one of my favorite cartoons when I was younger. I stood up, my head swiveling to locate the person that belonged with the voice. It didn't take long.

The guy was in his late fifties with a serious pot-belly. He wore a brown aviator cap on his head, the flaps smacking against the sides of his face every time he walked. He was grinning ear to ear, his brown eyes dancing excitedly as he walked past me. I watched as he headed towards a small little two-person propeller plane.

Common sense told me not to do it.

I did it anyway.

"Excuse me!" I called out. My sneakers smacked into the pavement as I ran to catch up with the man. It didn't take long. He had a bounce in his step, but my long legs were no match for his short ones. The guy's cap flapped hard as he turned to look at me.

"What can I do you for, son?" he asked. "I'm kinda in a hurry. I don't want to miss the apocalypse."

For a moment, all I could do was stare at him. Finally, my voice floated back into my throat.

"Is that your plane?" I asked. He nodded, his chest puffing out in pride.

"That she is! A beaut, ain't she?"

I wasn't sure if beaut was the right term. It had some rust and it was showing its age. But if it still flew...

"How much would it cost for you to take me as close to Sand Island as we can get?" I asked.

You would have thought I had asked him if he'd like a million dollars for Christmas. He clapped his hands and then grasped my shoulders. He shook me a couple times even though I was about half a foot taller than him.

"You're carved from the same stone as I am, kid! That's where I'm going. I know we're not supposed to know when the second coming is, but I tell you I have a feeling on this one."

"A feeling?"

"Yeah. I mean, who wants to twiddle there thumbs and wait for it to get here? I don't wanna be on a freeway when it happens. I wanna be in paradise."

He stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a round tin. I recognized the chewing tobacco right away. He stuck a piece in the side of his mouth, chewed vigorously, and nodded towards the plane.

"I'm Crazy Steve. What's your name co-pilot?"

If I hadn't been so stressed out, panicked, and distraught, I would have compared the whole thing to a scene from a National Lampoon movie. As it was, I decided I didn't have time to waste contemplating the fact I was going to get on a plane with a guy named Crazy Steve.

"Nick," I said.

"Ha, I knew it!" he bellowed. He began walking again and I followed him at a quick clip to the plane.

"We don't have any time to lose," he said. "I was just taking a quick leak before heading out. It's a bitch when you gotta go in the middle of the sky."

"I bet," I said.

The interior of the plane was small. He wasn't kidding when he had called me co-pilot. I had never had such a view before. Steve threw himself into the worn leather pilot's seat and fiddled with a million different flips and switches.

"Buckle up," he said. "It's gonna be a bumpy ride."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"You must land your plane in Molokai. I repeat, you must land your plane in Molokai. Air travel is restricted within Honolulu."

Steve stuck his tongue out at the cockpit's radio. "You're a bunch of old fuddy-duddies. When I was with the FAA--"

The guy on the other end sighed. "Unless you want to be shot down, you'll shut up and listen."

Steve pressed his thumb to his nose and wiggled his fingers, but he didn't say anything else. He flipped a switch and studied the map in front of him.

"Landing in Molokai was my plan," he said. I didn't believe him, but he cleared his throat and continued on. "I have a friend of a friend there that can lend me a boat."

"Really?"

He must have heard the hope in my voice cause he let out another loud bark. "Yeah, but I'm a shitty floater. Is that what you call them? Or is it boater?"

Crap. "I know my way around a boat," I said. My eyes flickered back out at the blue sky and the land that was coming closer and closer.

"No shit? Hunh. It must be both our lucky days," he said.

I reached up to the collar of my shirt, sliding my hand down under the cotton. My fingers grabbed the cross necklace Brian had given me right after Lauren had died. I rubbed it, warming the metal with my touch. I had never worn it before today.

I felt like I needed all the luck I could get. And a little help from above.

"Just get me down there, and I'll take it from there," I said, sounding more confident then I felt. Steve's hands tightened on the controls. I closed my eyes and kept rubbing the cross.

I feared what I was going to find.

Chapter Thirty Two - Where I Need to Be

"She ain't much, but she'll getcha to where you needta go."

I stared at the object in front of me doubtfully. I'm sure some people would call it a boat, but I was having a hard time placing it in that category. The sides were rusted out and the motor looked as if it would choke out if you looked at it wrong.

Crazy Steve, Cap'n Larry, and I were all standing next to the pier. I wouldn't have turned around and headed the other way if I wasn't so desperate to get where I needed to go.

"So can we get going?" I asked. Larry shoved his thumbs in his pockets and gave me a toothless smile.

"Ya-hup."

I felt like I had fallen in with the cast of Hee-Haw, a show my grandparents watched every single weekend when I was a kid. As soon as I was given the word, I hoisted myself up. The boat bobbed slightly.

"If I were yous, I'd stay clear of the front side of the island and get in around back. They're pree-ty serious about no incoming or outcoming traffic."

"They can go fuck 'em selves," Steve declared. The boat really bobbed as he scrambled aboard. His big meaty paw slapped at my shoulder, tossing me forward a good inch. "At least I got myself someone who knows how to maneuver this jalopy!"

"Let me check if there's gas in this thing and then you can compliment me," I said. I turned the key and the most horrendous motor choking noise I had ever heard erupted. Over the racket, I could hear Larry's laugh.

"Keep at it, warm her up, warm her up!" he shouted. "Just like a fine woman!"

I was pretty sure he had never met a fine woman in his day, and if he had, he wouldn't have known what to do with her to begin with. I pushed it hard, more to drown out the guys chortling than to help the boat along. After a few minutes of silent prayer and cursing, the thing cranked open and we were ready for business.

"Grab a seat!" I yelled. "We're heading out!"

The 'thump' indicated that Steve had found a place to sit down. I gave everything another once over before easing the boat away from the pier.

"If ya don't come back, I'm keeping your plane!" Larry shouted out.

"In hell!" Steve shouted back.

Those were the last two words I heard as the boat sliced through the water and gave a slight bounce from the incoming waves. Angry dark clouds loomed ahead. My hands curled up in a white knuckle grip on the wheel.

"I'm coming, Rosie," I whispered under my breath. "I'm coming."

------------------------------------

"Oh my God."

Those three words rose up from my throat unbidden. The motor on the boat gagged pathetically as we neared the shore on the backside of the island. Steve came up beside me.

"Looks okay on this end," he declared. I couldn't disagree more. Moisture collected in my eyes as I stared at the shore.

"Nothing's okay," I said shakily.

The backside of the island was where Grandma Kalani's shack had been. I knew because just up ahead were the rocks that Rosie and I had carefully tred that day that seemed so long ago.

Had been.

Little pieces of wood still floated on the water. Most of the larger pieces were likely miles away. If that wasn't bad enough, the one remaining object, tipped over and lodged into the sand was Kalani's rocker.

Empty.

I could have played the eternal optimist and rationalized that someone had gotten to the old lady in time, but I knew it was a lie. As the boat came to a stop at the shore, I knew from the energy piercing my skin that she was gone.

That wonderful woman's wisdom no longer graced the Earth.

"You look like you're gonna barf," Steve said.

"I don't have time to barf," I said. I tossed him a glance. "You going to be okay from here?"

Steve looked around, smiling contentedly as if we had just sailed into Cozumel on a perfect, cloudless day. "I'm where I needta be," he said. In a crazy way, I knew exactly what he meant, even if we had vastly different reasons for the sentiment.

I handed him the key, eyeing the rocks. There didn't seem to be as many as I remembered. More than likely, the quake had knocked several into the waters.

"Thank you for getting me here," I said. Steve's hand slapped at my back.

"Hope you find what you're looking for," he said.

A lump rose in my throat.

All I could do was nod.

------------------------------------

Once my feet hit sand, my body knew what to do. My sneakers slipped along the water-slicked rocks. Several times I fell to my knees, my palms scrapping against the hard stone. I didn't even bat an eye at the trickle of blood that fell from the knuckle on my thumb. I picked myself up and headed on even as the skies grew darker.

Even though I knew it wasn't so, it felt like I was the last person on earth. Besides the crash of the waves, the only other sound I heard was my own panicked breathing. Little sweat droplets fell from my nose. The humid was unbearable. I yanked off my shirt, shoving as much in my back pocket as I could.

If the trip to Kalani's had seemed long the day I went with Rosie, it was nothing compared to what it was like going alone. Dead seabirds and fish began to appear; the stench was overwhelming. I lifted my arm, pressing my nose into the crevice of my elbow. Tears fell freely. I had always been the type of guy that wasn't afraid to cry; this was one of those occasions when every tear seemed warranted.

It was well over an hour before I saw in the distance what had once been the marina and docks. Almost every single dock was gone. Several large boats were docked up on the sand, tipped on their sides or upside down.

Then there was the strip of buildings that had constantly been packed with people. Including a small little restaurant that served the best pancakes known to man...

All of it...

Destroyed.

Chapter Thirty Three - In the Palms

My sneakers barely hit the ground as I broke into a run. The Red Cross was already on the scene. The flashing lights from the emergency vehicles made me nauseous. My mind screamed in agony, telling me that there was no way humanly possible anyone could have survived such destruction. She was gone--gone in Heaven with my Lauren. Two loves lost. I was cursed and the blackness was surrounding me, shrouding, suffocating...

Something in me caused me to stop before I was seen by all of the emergency workers. I stood on the outskirt, my eyes taking in everything. It was the type of moment when everything was so horrific you wanted to look away, but you couldn't.

Just like the footage of the wrecked plane.

"Ohhh," I cried, doubling over. My hands snaked into my hair and I did what I had told Steve I hadn't had time to do. I vomited. The bile that rose from my stomach was nothing but pure acid. I shivered in disgust as the taste flooded my mouth.

She was gone. Gone.

I remained hunched over for as long as I could. When my back began to ache as much as my chest, I stood up and began to move closer.

Several people were huddled under a Red Cross tent, clutching white styrofoam cups and gazing emotionlessly out at pure nothingness. I knew the shock well.

Everyone was so busy that the sight of one lone person walking around didn't seem out of the ordinary. I drew closer to where the restaurant had once stood erect. It had practically caved in on itself.

If my cognitive skills had been working better, I might have found it horribly unfair that several large palm trees near the restaurant remained unscathed while a whole town was wiped out. Instead, all I could do was think about how I would give anything, anything, to be able to walk in and get scalded with hot coffee again. To--

"Psst."

To hate those green flip-flops while finding them endearing at the same time. To--

"Psst."

The first time I heard it, I was sure it was my imagination. The second time I heard it, I knew it was real. I looked towards the trees.

The face of the boat hacker himself, Joshua, peeked down at me from between two leafy palm leaves. His eyes were large, his cheeks dried with tears. Suddenly, I realized that this thirteen year old kid was terrified.

And alone.

"Hey," I said quietly. I glanced all around before heading to the trees. My heart started to pound. If he was up there, maybe, just maybe...

"Are you okay?"

Joshua's arms tightened around the branch he had scrambled onto. He nodded.

"How long have you been up there?"

"Awhile."

I knew those types of answers well. Cold. Detached. Not willing to give too much. I swallowed hard.

"Where's Tito?" I asked. The question I had been dying to ask couldn't be tamed anymore. "Where's Rosie?"

A fresh tear trickled down the boy's cheek. He slapped it away angrily, but another one took its place. Realizing it was fruitless, he pressed his face into his arm and began to openly weep.

No.

I glanced around again before making a split-second decision. I pressed the toe of my sneaker against the tree and hauled myself up. The branches creaked angrily at the added weight, but I reasoned that if it withstood an earthquake, it could hold me. I quickly made my way to Joshua. The moment I put my hand on his bony shoulder, I felt him shaking. I tugged him at me only slightly surprised not to meet resistance. I wrapped my arm tightly around his waist and hauled him down, sliding halfway down the trunk and scraping my stomach in the process.

Once we were down on sand again, I let the boy go. Joshua crumpled to his knees, mucus dripping out of his nose. I knelt down, rubbing his back. I wasn't about ready to douse him with condolences.

They meant nothing. Instead, I let him cry it out.

It took him about fifteen minutes before the tears ran dry. He ran his tongue over his lower lip, more than likely covered with the salt from his tears. The flinch of his cheek told me my assumption was correct. After taking a couple deep breaths, he looked at me.

"He's dead. Him and mama. They were down at the pier when it happened and they got them out from under a boat. And then they covered them with a sheet. I couldn't go closer. I couldn't."

I pressed my hand to my throat, stifling a moan. Trying not to look as anguished as I felt, I ran my hand up and down, noting how hard my Adam's apple was.

"And Rosie?" I choked.

Joshua's red-rimmed eyes closed. He fell back, his heels digging deeper into the sand. "I don't know," he moaned. "I don't know. She's so little I bet she just got squashed. They were all I had. All I fucking had. If I had just listened to them more--"

I don't think I had ever felt as connected with anyone than I did with Joshua at the moment. Suddenly, it seemed impossible that I had ever thought of him as a stupid punk. He was just like me. Years of living for myself had ruined the time I had with those that meant the world. Now he was wallowing in the horror.

His eyes were still closed as I grabbed his shoulders and shook him gently. His eyes snapped back open, surprised, wary. I glanced at the building and took a deep breath. The workers were far down at the other end.

"Have they checked the restaurant yet?" I asked.

He blinked in surprised. "N-no."

I studied it. It was impossible. Reckless. Dangerous.

"I'm going to go in."

Joshua's mouth fell open and for a second I thought he was going to beg me not to go. He grabbed my arm, but then he hesitated. I was surprised when he stood up.

"Let's go."

I shook my head. "You're not going in there."

Out in direct sunlight, I could see what a mess the boy was. He had a large gash on his forehead and another on his leg. Dirt was smudged on his left cheek and his shirt had a large red stain that might have been blood or ketchup. I suddenly felt protective. Paternal.

"I'm going," he repeated.

"It's dangerous."

"Then why are you going?"

"To see if I can find Rosie," I said. "Where were you when this happened" I added.

Joshua glanced back at the building. He almost looked like he was going to cry again, but he stopped himself. "With Rosie. She was in the back flipping pancakes and I was filling coffee for this elderly couple. It all happened so fast and I hit my head. When I woke up I was by the door and I crawled out.

"Did you hear anything?"

He shook his head. We both looked at the structure. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Joshua's hands curl into fists.

The boy had guts. He caught my gaze and I nodded.

"Okay," I relinquished.

"Let's go."

Chapter Thirty Four - Do You Believe in Miracles?

I was tempted to army crawl right in through the front, but Joshua nodded around towards the back. He seemed more at peace now that I had given him the right to be as reckless as I was.

"There isn't anyway to get past where I was," he explained. "Just staring at the building all this time makes me think that we'll get in easier if we try to get in closer to the kitchen."

He had a point that I couldn't argue with. The structure was almost as flat as a pancake in front. The back looked like a very poorly constructed teepee. It was only about five feet from ground level, if that.

We both made our way around and I realized that not only were we going to have to use our hands to worm our way in, but we were going to make a lot of racket in the process. Fortunately, we were also out of view from the real rescue workers.

The door was gone, but the jumble of wood made it seem impossible that anything was still living inside. But, I knew, alive or dead, I wasn't going to leave Rosie in there.

"Okay, I'm going to need you to use as much strength as you can," I said. Joshua nodded. I reached for a board and pressed my foot up against the others to steady myself. After a second of watching me, Joshua mimicked my movements.

"On three," I commanded. "One. Two. THREE!"

We both let out grunts as we propelled our bodies backwards, our fingers gripping the board. It took almost ten forceful tug before the heavy two by four came out. We both toppled backwards onto the ground. I gasped, feeling exhausted. I could only imagine the skinny boy felt the same.

"One down," I said.

"A million more to go," he added.

We worked steadily, neither of us talking much. After an hour, we had amassed a small collection of boards and kitchen equipment. The solid blockage made it seem more and more likely that Joshua's term 'squashed' was accurate.

"Do you believe in miracles?" I asked aloud about an hour and a half into our process. we had taken only one break when a couple of Red Cross workers had drawn to near.

Joshua was sweating just as bad, if not worse than I was. He ran his arm across his forehead and I saw beads of sweat fall from his chin.

"Yeah," he said. "Rosie always talked about miracles. After awhile, I guess it was kinda nice to start believing too."

It sounded like the kind of thing she would say. It was just the little tidbit I needed to start working like a bat out of hell. Joshua's arms had grown weak even as mine grew stronger yet. As the young teen fell back one more time, I forged ahead, a scream erupting from my lungs at the same time. I pulled back my foot and gave an almighty kick.

"Show me, GOD!" I yelled.

I'm not sure exactly what I meant by that. I had already felt his wrath. I had already experienced the fragility of life. But I had never experienced a miracle.

Until then.

My foot connected with the wreckage and the pieces fell away, finally revealing an actual gap that a person could crawl through. It seemed to lead to the part of the building that wasn't totally flattened. For a second I just stared in utter surprise.

"What are we waiting for?" Joshua said. "Let's go."

I knelt down, sticking my head in. The heat and smell was indescribable. I pulled back and ran my right palm over the knuckles of my left hand.

"Here's the plan," I said slowly. "I'm going to go in. I want you to wait right here by the entrance."

Joshua opened his mouth to argue, but I shook my head forcefully.

"How will it help if both of us get stuck in there? If you're right here and I need help, I can call back to you. I'm assuming you'd go and get me help right?"

I was almost prepared for a scowling, reluctant, teenaged 'yeah.' Instead, he nodded just as forcefully as I had.

"Right."

"Good," I said. I stuck my head back in. If ever I had wondered what death and Hell would feel and smell like, I need wonder no more. I grabbed onto a board, gently testing it's stability. When it didn't give, I pulled myself all the way in. I pulled my t-shirt from my back pocket and used it as a glove for my hand.

"You okay?" a wobbly voice called out. I closed my eyes and remembered my purpose. Rosie.

"I'm fine, kid!" I called back. "I'm gonna keep going."

In perfect condition, the restaurant hadn't been big. In this condition, it was even smaller. Even so, it felt like I was literally crawling through a tunnel to China as I made my way in the darkness. Only the smallest sliver of light peeked in every now and then through the Jenga of boards. I used the light to scan as much area as I could.

It didn't take me long in my journey to realize two of the most overwhelming scents I was inhaling was that of kitchen grease and dead bodies. I had never smelled a dead body before, but it seemed like it was the only way to describe what lingered in the air. I shuddered, suppressing another round of vomit. The little path curved not far up ahead and I had a feeling my journey was almost over.

Indeed, as soon as I maneuvered my body around the corner, my t-shirt wrapped hand connected with something soft. A sliver of light reflected off of a large, shiny object and I glanced down...

Right into a pair of green eyes. The little bit of spark I saw through the shock told me she wasn't dead.

"Rosie," I whispered. My hand touched her forehead. "Rosie, sweetheart, it's going to be okay."

She didn't answer me verbally, but her body began to shake. My eyes were getting used to the darkness and I used the little bit of light to access the situation. Her face looked fine except for a large cut over her lip. Her right arm was burned, but not horrifically. Her tank top had three large red stains that I chose to ignore lest I start to panic and scare her even more. She had on a little pair of short shorts which gave way to her bare legs. I stifled a scream.

I wasn't an expert, but it looked as if the quake had toppled the stove onto her as she tried to move. Her left leg was free, but her right leg was trapped under the stove.

A stove which was being weighed down with hundreds of pounds of boards and other wreckage. The smell of blood hit me hard as my hand pressed even harder into her forehead. Her eyes began to close and my lips fell to her face, kissing her ashen cheek.

"Don't you give up now damnit," I whispered. "I love you and I'm not gonna to lose you now."

"I'm going to get you out."

Chapter Thirty Five - I Got Her

I hated to leave her. Besides burying Lauren, it was the hardest thing I'd ever had to do. I backtracked quickly, the vision of her lying there in shock burned into my mind. As soon as I thought I could, I began to yell out.

"JOSHUA! JOSHUA!"

It took me going several more feet backwards calling his name before I heard a reply.

"DID YOU FIND HER?"

"YES!"

There was a pause.

"Is she alive?"

I swallowed hard. "BARELY. GO GET HELP. RUN!"

I kept backing out and my ears detected a mad scramble. By the time I pulled myself all the way out, he was well on his way towards the rescue crew, waving his arms in the air.

The tunnel wasn't big enough for more than one person. I had no idea how they were going to get her out. The equipment they had wasn't state of the art. It seemed as if everyone was waiting to see what would happen next. Even as I thought it, the ground began to shake slightly and I realized that we were in the midst of an aftershock. I pressed my hands together and did something I hadn't done for a long time:

I began to pray.

"Dear Lord, please don't take her from me. Please watch over her and give her the strength she needs to make it through this ordeal. Let me protect her on Earth for many, many years and love her. Give both of us a second chance. Amen."

The aftershock subsided right around the time I finished my 'Amen.' At the same time, two men were running in my direction. I prepared myself for a personal inquiry, but they didn't seem to care where I had come from.

"Where is she?" the older of the two men asked.

"We dug out a tunnel. It's the only way you can go. She's at the end. The industrial stove fell on her leg. She's trapped beneath it. There's not a lot of room to move in there."

The men looked at each other. The younger of the two caught my gaze and tugged the other one away, out of earshot. They conversed back and forth, gesturing occasionally. My gut tightened.

They were wasting time.

Finally, they broke and came back over to me. The younger of the two glanced at the tunnel. He was holding a large bag.

"I can't make any guarantees," he said calmly. "But I'm going in to see what I can do."

"Thank you," I said breathlessly. A slight tickle on my elbow made me look down. Joshua had pressed himself up close to me. Instinctively, I put my arm around him.

While the younger man went in, the older man ran back down the stretch. The minutes ticked by, but soon there was a stretcher on stand-by and medical supplies at the ready. I watched as a large van came and picked up the few people that had been in the Red Cross tent.

"Where are they going?" I asked aloud. I found a strange comfort in hearing the sound of my own voice. The older guy followed my gaze.

"We have a more centralized location away from the shores where we're taking people."

"What about people that need a hospital?"

"We've got a chopper that's taking injured into Honolulu."

That got my full attention. "Where is it?"

The guy glanced up at the sky. "It's on its way back. I'm not sure when it'll be here."

I didn't like the answer. My grip tightened on Joshua's shoulder.

"Did she say anything?" he asked.

I glanced down at him. I knew I could have lied to make him feel better, but it just didn't seem right.

"Now. She was in shock from it all."

"But she was alive?"

"Yes," I said.

Twenty minutes later, the younger guy still hadn't emerged and the last dreds of hope were draining from my body. Joshua and I were both swaying, yet we refused to sit down as the older worker kept beseeching us to do.

I was almost to the point of crawling back into the tunnel myself, when I heard a male voice shout out. The older rescue worker flew to the entrance to the tunnel, Joshua and I not far behind.

"You got her?"

"I got her. I need a stretcher and the chopper if it's here."

"Not yet."

"Fuck. I don't think we have much time."

Joshua let out an open-mouthed sob at the same second my blood ran cold. It seemed to play out in slow- motion: her head appeared first, followed by upper torso. Another man crowded around as her lower half was pulled out.

"Jesus Christ. I'll see where the chopper is," the older guy said. Without looking at me, he turned and headed off towards the tent. I leaned over, Joshua still drowning in his own sobs, and took a look at her.

"Oh my God," I whispered. My knees gave out on me and I sank to the ground, no longer able to stay strong.

Rosie's right leg was gone below the knee.

"There was no way I could have moved the stove," the younger guy was explaining. There was the sound of medical tape being ripped from a large roll. "I had the small hacksaw and it was the only thing I could think of. She's passed out, but her breathing's getting more shallow. We need a mask and the chopper. It's a miracle she's even alive. Everything seemed to fall right around her. Is that it?"

I wasn't sure what he was asking when he asked 'Is that it?,' but when I heard the loud 'whap-whap-whap' of the chopper blades, I realized he must have heard it long before I had.

"WHERE'S HER LEG?!"

My neck snapped up. Joshua was still standing; he had inched closer to Rosie as his tears began to dry up again. He was staring at her in horror. Somehow, I managed to push myself back to my feet. I grabbed him.

"It's okay," I said numbly. "It's okay."

Joshua tugged away from me. He ripped at his hair, backing away, his eyes darting from Rosie, to the building, to me. "Nothing's ever going to be okay!"

I shook my head and walked towards him. "Calm down. It's going to be fine. She's alive. She's going to get help. She's out. They needed to get her out."

The boy was beginning to hyperventilate. I saw them lift Rosie onto a stretcher. The older worker motioned at me and nodded towards the chopper. I understood what he meant. I grabbed Joshua's arm.

"We're going with her to the hospital."

"I'm not going!" he screeched.

"You're going!" I yelled back.

"I'm not going to leave you alone! Rosie needs you and you need me and I need your ass in the chopper!"

Yes, it was harsh, but my words were effective. He literally sucked in his lower lip, biting down on it hard even as he propelled himself towards the door. He hoisted himself up and looked back at me. I lowered down, staying clear of the chopper blades and scrambled in behind him. The door slammed shut and a second later we were airborne. Two medics were already hooking up IVs. Rosie had never looked paler. I wormed my way to her side and took her hand. It was a ridiculous observation, but I couldn't help but stare at the flip-flop that clung to her left foot.

"Hang in there beautiful," I whispered.

"We have so much more living to do. Together."

Chapter Thirty Six - The Waiting Game

"I got you a burger."

"I'm not hungry."

"When's the last time you ate?"

"I told you, I'm not hungry."

Joshua was sitting in an orange hard plastic chair, hunched forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His dark hair hid his face. I sat down beside him, my own chair creaking in protest.

"I know you don't feel hungry. I don't feel hungry either. But if you don't eat, you're going to get sick and neither of us can get sick right now. How's the stitches?"

Even though he had put up a fight, I had forced him to get his own injuries checked out. Eight stitches later, he had come through relatively unscathed physically. But not mentally. No one needed to tell me that he was suffering on the inside.

"Why haven't they come out and told us anything about Rosie?" he asked, ignoring my own question.

I looked up at the clock. It had been three hours since we had arrived at the hospital. I knew they had taken her into surgery.

I didn't know anything else.

"I'm sure they don't want to waste time talking to us when they can be helping her," I said. It wsa what I had been telling myself for the last ninety minutes as the waiting became too much even for me.

"She's always been like my sister," Joshua said suddenly. He reached for the burger and I heard crinkling as he pushed back the paper. He took a bite and I followed suit. We chewed silently.

"They didn't deserve this. And this burger tastes like shit."

I nodded. "No, they didn't. Life's not fair. Too many bad things happen to good people."

"Hmm."

I took another bite. I worked my question about my chews. "What do you mean, 'hmm'?"

"I figured you'd say something about how God has a plan or something."

Before I answer, I couldn't help but think the burger really did taste like shit.

"Maybe he does, but that doesn't mean I like it," I said.

ory Joshua nodded his agreement. We polished off the burgers and lapsed into total silence. Joshua draped himself across the orange chair to his left. After about twenty minutes, I realized he had fallen asleep, most likely the exhausted sleep I knew so well.

I stretched out, my head pressing back against the walls. I let my own eyes close. I thought about my dream and Lauren's warning. I had a vague realization that the memory of her didn't cut me as much as it had done even a few days before. My eyes opened again and I looked at the clock.

My pain was now for Rosie.

------------------------------------

"Nick Carter?"

My body jerked itself out of sleep. I looked up at a doctor, clad from head to foot in scrubs. I looked to my left and saw Joshua stir.

"I'm Nick Carter," I said. I stood and extended my hand. Joshua sprang to his feet beside me.

"How's Rosie?" he asked.

The doctor shook my hand and then extended his own towards Joshua. The teen hesitated, obviously waiting to hear the answer before deeming the man worthy of a shake.

"She's in recovery. You both should be able to see her in an hour when we transfer her to a room."

With that said, Joshua shook the doctor's hand. I ran my palm along the stubble on my chin.

"How is she?" I asked thickly.

The doctor nodded, prepared for the question. "We worked carefully on the amputation. It could have been much worse. A trans-tibial amputation doesn't usual hinder quality of life. The removal was done below the knee so she can be fitted with a prosthesis and maintain an active lifestyle."

"So what took so long?"

The question came from Joshua, but I have to admit that I had been wondering the same thing. The doctor didn't seem phased.

"We located some internal trauma. We removed her gallbladder as well as fixed a tear in the stomach. Again, it could have been much worse."

Suddenly the tension in my chest lifted. I began to breathe a little easier.

"So she's going to live."

The doctor actually smiled. "The whole thing's a miracle, but yes, she's going to live. I'm going to make sure she's ready to go to recovery, but a nurse will come out and get you when we've moved her to a floor."

"Thank you," I said softly. I watched the man move hit a large metal square with his elbows. The hydraulic double doors wooshed open and he disappeared. I cupped my hands to my mouth and blew hard.

"She's gonna be okay," I said in awe. I lowered my hands and turned to Joshua. "Good news, right?"

I was surprised to see that he had stepped several feet away. He was turned towards the wall, his body hunched. I walked slowly towards him.

"Did you hear what I said? We've got good news."

He didn't answer at first. I saw his chest rise and fall.

"I'm glad she's okay," he said quietly. "But what's going to happen to me?"

He looked ashamed at the fear in his own question. I backed up against the wall, staring directly at him.

"You think I'm gonna let anything happen to you? You and me are in this together. You're staying with me. Rosie and you. Your both gonna stay with me." "Why?"

His confusion surprised me. "Why what?"

"Why would you do that? I haven't done anything for you to like me."

He was dwelling on the boat. Pain was a wicked creature; it made every little bad thing you'd ever done become magnified a thousand-fold. I smiled.

"You wouldn't be a hormonal teenager if you didn't do stupid shit," I explained. "It's water under the bridge."

I thought that would satisfy his question, but he wasn't done. His eyes narrowed and I saw anger spark into his light brown eyes. "Rosie said you didn't really love her."

My mouth went dry. I turned away so he wouldn't see how bad the words hurt. I bent my knee and kicked my filthy sneaker back against the wall lightly.

"I didn't treat her the way she needed to be treated," I said, struggling not to choke up. "But I did love her. I do love her. And if I need to spend the rest of my life proving that, then that's what I'm going to do." I met Joshua's glare. "You've got to believe me. I love her."

We stared each other down. Joshua was the first to back down. I could almost see him processing what I had just said. He nodded.

"You wouldn't have come here if you didn't," he rationalized.

"You're right," I said. I glanced at the clock. We still had a long wait. I stepped away from the wall and touched his shoulder. "In fact, I've got to tell you how I got to you guys."

"You're never gonna believe it..."

Chapter Thirty Seven - You'll Always be Rosie

"What if she asks about her leg?"

"Let me handle it."

"What if she doesn't want to see you?"

Joshua and I were standing outside Rosie's hospital room having a last minute discussion. I crossed my arms at the last question and sighed loudly.

"I'm not going to go there," I said honestly. Joshua shrugged.
br> "Okay. But you know Rosie."

Yes, I did know Rosie. I knew her proud side, but I also knew her soft side. And I hoped that her softness would trump her pride.

My heart began to pound as I pushed open the door. Joshua ducked under my arm and entered first. He began a slow shuffle towards the bed. I followed behind him.

She was pale, but beautiful. I relished in watching her even breathing. She was housed in one of those horrendous hospital gown. Angry bruises dotted her arms. The cut over her lip was stitched; heavy gauze was craddling the empty space below her right knee.

Joshua reached her first. He pressed his hand over her own hand draped across her chest. I made my way around to the other side of the bed and pressed my hands into the mattress. I leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

The moment my lips left her face, her eyes fluttered. She seemed to be struggling to come up from the depths of whatever world had previously held her. She let out a gasp, her upper body almost lifting off the bed. Her hand sought Joshua's and her eyes opened in emerald glory.

"Rosie," Joshua whimpered. He lowered himself across her chest, tears splashing onto their entwined hands. Rosie looked down at him in confusion. The confusion deepened when she looked up and saw me.

"Where am I?" she asked in a hoarse whisper.

Joshua was still crying so I ran my thumb along the skin I had just kissed and reminded myself I was the strong one this time around.

"There was an earthquake," I said gently. "You were in the restaurant cooking in the kitchen."

I stopped there, waiting. Her eyes rolled slightly as if she was trying to rewind events in her mind. "I was making pancakes," she said. "The ground began to shake and a pan fell and hit my lip."

She moved her hand away from Joshua and he straightened up, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands. She touched the stitches and shivered. She looked at Joshua.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded, unable to speak. He looked at me desperately. Rosie's head rolled back in my direction.

"How did you--"

"I heard about the earthquake and got here as fast as I could," I said. "I needed to make sure you were okay."

Rosie almost looked ashamed at her next question. "Was I?"

She had yet to look down. I took her hand; she didn't pull it back. "You're going to be fine," I said gently. "But you had a lot of injuries. The restaurant's completely gone. The stove fell on you."

Her eyes widened. "The stove..."

I pressed my palm into hers. "I crawled into the rubble and found you. The rescue team got you out and we're all at the hospital in Honolulu. They had to take our your gallbladder. And...and your leg was trapped under the weight of the stove. They did what they could, but the aftershocks were making the whole thing too dangerous and we just needed to get you out. You needed some major surgery on your right leg."

The doctor had warned me that the pain block was still holding fast in her right leg. She wasn't aware of her loss because she couldn't feel it. But she could see. I watched as her eyes trailed down her body. When she got to her leg she began to scream.

Her eyes rolled back in her head.

------------------------------------

"This will have minimal effect on your quality of life. There isn't much that amputees can't do that everyone else can. As I was telling Nick and Joshua, the place of amputation gives you a lot of options."

The doctor held a large chart aloft, pointing out different things with the tip of his pen. I could tell Rosie was only half-listening. She hadn't let go of Joshua's hand since she had woken up. Her grip on the boy had only tightened when she learned that Tito was gone. Her eyes had developed that haunted look that had lived in mine for years.

I hated it.

"Our plan is to let you rest up for a couple days so that the incisions from your gallbladder surgery heal. Then I want to get you fitted for a prosthetic and get you on your feet. After that, it's been arranged for you to fly out of here and finish all recouperation in California."

"California?"

The doctor looked at me. I looked down at Rosie.

"There's tsunami watches, aftershocks, and everything else here. Resources are being stretched too thin here. I want you to get the best care we can get you."

She didn't answer. Instead, she pulled Joshua closer. He pressed his head into the crook of her neck. She wrapped an arm around him.

"I'm not leaving him," she said firmly.

"You don't have to," I said. "He's coming with us. This is a package deal."

The doctor glanced at the three of us and folded up his chart. "I'm going to give you all some more time to visit," he said gently.

Rosie didn't answer. I watched as she began to stroke Joshua's hair. I sank down next to the bed and propped my chin in my hand.

"I should never have let you go," I said. "Rosie, I know you might not believe me, but I love you. You leaving tore me apart like you can't imagine."

Again, nothing. I licked my lips.

"But it was the best thing you could have done."

That got her attention. She looked at me and I saw that she hadn't expected me to say that.

"If you hadn't left, I would never have realized the role you had in my life. Lauren," I stopped for a second, the words I had held in for years finally coming out. "Lauren's dead and I can't bring her back. I loved her once and I'll always love her. But my heart still keeps on beating and it's only beating for you. I can love again and I need you to be the woman that I share that with. You brought me out of the darkness and now it's my turn. This," I motioned towards her leg. "is just a minor shower in the course of life. But the sun's going to come out again and I want us to feel its warmth together."

Tears filled her eyes. "Nick, are you sure?"

"Surer than I've ever been," I promised.

"But I'm..."

"You're Rosie. And you'll always be Rosie."

"He's all we got Rosie," Joshua added softly. "And he saved you." Some might have misconstrued his statement as desperation, but I could tell that there was more to it than that. He looked over at me with respect. Rosie glanced between the two of us. Her eyes settled on her leg. She reached for my hand and squeezed it tightly.

"I'm still here for a reason," she said, almost to herself. "Mom told me it'd be you."

Before I could ask her what she meant, she gave me a weak, but genuine smile.

"Let's make it count."

Chapter Thirty Eight - We'll Figure it Out

"In time, you won't even think about the prosthesis when you walk. It will become an extension of you. Modern science has made dramatic improvements in the last couple decades in regards to these devices. They look real and mobility is top notch. You can even paint your toenails--"

"And wear flip-flops?" I asked.

The doctor turned and smiled at me before swiveling back to Rosie. He nodded. "Even wear flip- flops."

Rosie met my gaze. She smiled, but not in a way that reached her eyes. I hunched forward in my chair and looked towards the window where Joshua stood. His gaze was focused outside; his arms were crossed tightly over his chest. He had broken down in tears as the helicopter had left Honolulu, tears that had dragged him even farther into his own world of darkness. The bright skies of California did nothing for him. I leaned over and tapped on his elbow, but he didn't turn.

"So are we ready?" the doctor asked. I stood up and took a few steps towards the head of the bed. Rosie glanced down at her knee, slightly bruised, and at the prosthesis lying right beside. I took her hand.

"Ready as I'll ever be," she said quietly.

I was an attentive student and hung on to every word the doctor said. The attachment looked simple, but I could tell by the pained look that spread across Rosie's face that the sensitive skin wasn't prepared for the invasion as the doctor's steady hand worked.

"You'll experience some discomfort and pain. That's why you'll be staying here and working with our wonderful UCLA rehab team to strengthen everything up so you can go home with Nick."

"The painters are working on the bedroom as we speak," I said. She winced again as the doctor moved the prosthesis and ran his hand up towards her knee. "It's that really pretty shade of blue that you said matches--"

"STOP! STOP!"

Rosie's nails dug into the fatty part of my palm. She scooted back, dragging herself away from the doctor.

"There's going to be some pain," the doctor said calmly. "But--"

"I'm done with pain," Rosie spat. "My whole life's been pain. I'm done. Go to hell."

Those fourteen words were more than she had spoken to a doctor or nurse since we had gotten into California. Her eyes burned with hatred, frustration, and a heavy dose of other emotions that I couldn't separate from each other. A large tear fell from her eyes; she swatted it away roughly.

"Okay," the doctor conceded. "I'm going to step out. I think for today we'll just leave the prosthetic on and then tomorrow maybe try something more." He gave me a look. "Can I speak with you for a minute?"

I knew this part well. This was the time where they brought the loved one out in the hall to scare them to death about the necessity of the situation. I felt my jaw tense.

"Maybe later," I said.

I don't think he was expecting my answer. His mouth dropped open, but when he realized I wasn't budging, he gave a slight nod. I sat down on the bed and watched him make his exit.

"Bastard," Rosie whispered under her breath. She tugged her hand from mine.

"Babe," I began. "I--"

"I'm not your babe."

Ouch. The words stung like a thousand angry bees. Even Joshua turned from the window to stare at us.

"I want you to be," I said quietly.

Rosie's face contorted. "What about...her?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I warned. The cryptic tone drew her eyes towards mine.

"Try me."

"You both came to me. That night. Right before I woke up and heard about the quake."

"I came to you?"

I swallowed hard. "You disappeared. Like a ghost. But Lauren stayed. She told me I need to go to you. She let me know that I had the right to love again. And she knew it was you." I took her hand in mine; she didn't pull back. "It's been you since that morning in the diner, Rosie."

Rosie's eyes filled with tears. She looked down at the sheet draped across her waist and let out a shuddery wisp of a breath.

"I think I died for a short time," she said softly. "I saw my mom. She told me I had to be brave and that you were coming. The thought of seeing you again even though I wanted the pain to stop...I think it kept me here."

I leaned over and nestled my face against her neck. Her arms wrapped around me and we held each other tightly.

"If you would have given up, I don't know what I would have done," I murmured. Her fingertips brushed the hair at the nape of my neck.

"Would you have swam naked with sharks?" she murmured. I laughed softly.

"I was serious that night, y'know."

"I know."

A big web of silence stretched over us. I think I would have fallen asleep next to her if Joshua hadn't sat down noisily in my unoccupied chair. Rosie looked at him; they seemed to have an unspoken conversation. Joshua finally broke the rising tension.

"I want to go home," he finally said stubbornly.

"Right now, this is home," she said gently.

"What about mom?"

"We'll figure it out."

"She needs a funeral. Tito does too."

"They'll both get one," she assured him. She struggled to sit up. I helped her, sliding off the bed.

"What you need to do right now," she added. "is go home with Nick."

"And leave you?"

Rosie gave me a sidelong gaze.

"I need some alone time anyhow."

"I have a few things to sort out."

Chapter Thirty Nine - The Best is Yet to Come

"MOM! MOM! MOM!"

I sat up in bed, blurry-eyed and disoriented but attuned to the distress. The same thing had happened every night for the past two weeks. I faintly noticed the smell of newly painted wall as I rolled out of bed and headed towards the door. By the time I hit the hall, the screams had faded, replaced by sobs.

Joshua was sitting up, his face muffled in a pillow. I hovered in the doorway, blocking the weak stream of light that had been coming in from the hallway. I took a few steps in.

"Go," he mumbled.

"You know I'm not going to tell you it gets easier," I said. I crouched down next to the mattress. Joshua lifted his head slightly, propping his chin into the soft feather pillow.

"I hate this," he whispered.

"I know."

"I keep hoping she'll come to me. Like Rosie's mom did. Like your wife did."

The sorrow in his voice killed me. It was amazing how fast my life had done a 180. I was on the other side of grief now, but it didn't make the side I had wallowed in for so many years seem any less real. I scooted myself up on the bed and wrapped my arm around his shoulders.

"She's here for you whether you realize it or not," I said.

He didn't answer. I could almost hear his heart crashing against his rib cage. As his breathing slowed, I thought he had gone to sleep sitting up. I shifted slightly. That's when he spoke.

"When's Rosie getting out of the hospital?"

"Next week."

"Are you going to marry her?"

His question caught me off guard. I stared down at my shadowy left hand. "You think I should?"

"Yeah."

I smiled.

"Yeah," I repeated gently.

"I think I should, too."

------------------------------------

"There's my boys."

Rosie had a strong grip on the metal bars framing either side of her. She looked up, her blonde hair askew, and smiled as Joshua and I entered the PT (Physical Therapy) room.

"Your cheering section's back," I said with a grin. "You ready to get outta here today?"

"More than ready," she said with a slight gasp. "I need real food." She glanced at Joshua.

"Grilled pineapple sounds good to me. What about you?"

He gave her a weak, watery smile. "Sounds terrific."

It had taken no fewer than three doctors and the physical therapist to get Rosie to wear the prosthesis and get up for the first time. The threat of weakening the remaining part of the leg so badly that she'd never be able to walk again pushed her to grit her teeth through the first few days of agony wearing the prosthesis. Now, two and a half weeks later, she was walking.

Joshua hung back as he always did, but I walked to the end of the bars and used my arms to swing me back and forth. Rosie's walk was slow and I could tell it still hurt like hell, but she smiled, watching my body act like a human pendulum.

"So, if you keep working this hard," I said lightly. "I'd say you're going to have your dancing feet back in no time."

She laughed. It wasn't a laugh up to her usual standards yet, but she was getting there. "I think my dancing days are over."

I shook my head. "They can't be. I can't do our first dance alone."

Rosie took another step closer to me. She had a habit now of watching each step. Her head snapped back up. "What first dance?"

I studied her precarious position and realized I was setting her up to fall flat on her face if I did what I wanted to do at that exact moment. I stopped swinging and just smiled.

"Your welcome home dance, of course."

The excitement that had been creeping into her eyes faded. "Oh, well...I'll be lucky to do a nice stagger to the couch," she said with a little laugh. "God, I feel eighty."

"You don't look eighty."

She blushed. I saw the PT guy give a nod of agreement. The flood of jealousy that coursed through me wasn't enough to punch him out, but it was enough to realize that I was on the right path. I just had to find the right time.

As Rosie made her way to the end of the bar and I pulled her to me, I felt the ring box press into my leg.

I would wait until we were home.

------------------------------------

"It's just like I imagined. They've done so much work."

"Close your eyes," I said. "What do you hear?"

Rosie's eyes fluttered closed. She leaned her head back against the couch. "Waves."

"Mm-hmm. And?"

"Seabirds."

I took the opportunity to sink down next to the couch on one knee. I gave Joshua a thumbs up. He nodded.

"And?" I creaked the ring box open.

"And?" she repeated. "It just sounds like the beach. I can't wait--"

"Neither can I," I interrupted.

She opened her eyes. She looked up first by instinct. Then she looked down at me. Her eyes honed in on the ring in the box. Shocked is the only way I could describe her expression.

"Rosie Tal--Tal---Talika," my tongue wouldn't roll over her last name. I'm sure I looked horrified. She leaned closer. "hominganoka," she finished with a laugh. I smiled.

"Carter's so much easier to say," I reasoned. I plucked the ring out of the box. I cleared my throat, twirling the pretty diamond around.

"Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference."

She looked confused. I took her hand.

"Robert Frost poem," I said. "But it sums my life up perfectly. When I met you, I had reached a fork in my life. I had been going down a dark road, but you made me choose a different way. A better way. With everything we've been through in this short time, I want to make sure that we keep traveling the same road. You've made all the difference in my life. And I...I would be honored if you would take this ring and agree to be my wife."

A tear welled up in her right eye. She batted away and wiggled her hands in the air. "I won't cry, I won't cry," she chanted. She laughed again, a weepy, happy laugh. "Are you sure?"

"I'm surer than sure. And I even got permission."

I turned and looked at the stairs. Joshua's face peeked in between the large wooden slats of the rail. I gave him a thumbs up; he returned the gesture.

"Josh," Rosie said softly. "We're a package deal."

I turned back to her and saw her hand held out towards me. I took it gently. "I know you are. I consider this good practice for when I become a dad."

Rosie laughed. She began to cry in earnest as I slipped the ring on her finger.

"Damnit, I'm not usually such a...a...girl," she complained. I slid up on the couch, pulling her into me. Her teary face looked up at me.

"You're every bit a woman," I said. "No matter whether your fishing, saving baby turtles, or..." I lowered my voice even more, aware that Joshua was still listening. "running your nails down my back."

She shivered as I kissed her. Her arms wrapped around my neck. The tip of my tongue touched hers and for half a second I feared being yanked into a flashback. But the flashback didn't come. My heart began to pound in excitement as realization sank in.

The ghost of my life with Lauren had released its grip on me. I knew I would never forget the love that Lauren and I shared. I would never stop loving her. Yet, at the same time, I was excited to be making new memories. Life wasn't going to be easy, not with Rosie's recovery and a damaged teen, but both of those hurdles were just a reminded that life does go on.

And I couldn't help but believe that the best was yet to come.

Epilogue - The Circle of Life

"It looks so different."

"We knew it would Josh. But look, they're rebuilding."

"Do you think it's going to be a restaurant again?"

Rosie wrapped her arm around Josh's neck lovingly. "I don't know, but if it is, they'll never have as good as pancakes as we did."

My suit flapped in the heavy wind. Rosie's long, pink dress threatened to entangle around her legs, but she didn't seem to care. Bright pink toenails stuck out from a pair of white flip flops. She pressed a finger to the pink flower she had put behind her ear.

Josh patted Rosie's arm and took a couple steps closer. He shoved his hands in the pants pockets of his own suit. His head turned to the right and I knew he was staring at the tree where I had found him hiding. Josh's wounds ran deep; healing was coming slowly. As I studied the thick bark of the tree myself, I marveled that it all seemed so long ago and yet, it also seemed like yesterday.

"Are you ready, Josh?" Rosie asked softly. The boy took another minute, but he finally turned and nodded.

The three of us walked to the end of the pier. Rosie's engagement and wedding rings sparkled in the light as her hand touched the belly that had begun to protrude. I climbed back onto the boat and came down with a large box. Joshua stared at it and I saw him swallow hard. He walked over and opened the lid. With shaking hands, he lifted out his mom's urn. Rosie turned and took Tito's.

"Josh, do you want to say it?" she asked softly. He tucked his head down, but he nodded. I put down the box and lifted the very last thing out of it: a large wreath adorned with bright tropical flowers. Josh stood between Rosie and I. He slowly lifted his eyes towards the cloudless sky.

"The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul; He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever."

"Amen," the three of us said in unison.

Joshua went first. He opened the urn and took the bag with his mom's ashes from it. His lips quivered as he opened the bag.

We waited.

I had been worried about doing the ceremony today. We had awoken to a cloudless sky, completely devoid of wind. But Rosie had insisted. It was the one year anniversary of the quake. And sure enough, as we had walked around taking in the rebuilding process, the wind had picked up. But now, now that we were ready, it was dead again.

"Mana'o nani," Rosie whispered, pleadingly. "Wind, take their dreams to the sky."

Again, we waited. At first nothing happened. But then, less than five minutes later, like magic, a small gust of wind came from the west. It began to catch the ashes in the bag and we watched as they sailed out towards the ocean. Josh's tears trickled down into the collar of his white shirt, but at the same time there was a certain peacefulness that surrounded him that I hadn't seen before. Rosie rubbed his back and kissed his temple before repeating the process with Tito's urn.

After both bags were empty, Rosie turned to me and nodded towards the wreath. I knew my part. I got down on my knees and leaned in towards the water. I gently placed the wreath down and watched the ocean reflect on the bright colors of the petals as it began to float away. I said my own quick prayer. I prayed for all of the others that had parished in the quake. And yes, I prayed for Lauren. I pressed a kiss into my palms and closed my eyes.

Above me, Rosie began to sing. I got lost in a flashback, but it was a memory from the not so distant past. I closed my eyes and thought of Kalani, her head tilted back and singing from her sole. Rosie sang the same Hawaiian words as the old lady had sang that day and again I felt the stirring of emotion.

I felt the hope. The hope that Joshua was going to adjust to life and grow up to become the boat racer he wanted to be. The hope that Sand Island would rebuild and thrive.

And the hope that our daughter was going to turn out to be just like her mommy.

I stood up and wrapped Rosie in my arms. The words of the song faded. She snaked a hand into my hair as I placed my palm on her stomach. "Damn, you're a white guy," she whispered.

"Kiss me, Flip Flops," I countered with a smile.

And so she did.

THE END