It was dark as she pulled into a spot in the parking lot.  The air was wet and slightly cool, the wind adding a bitter nip and encouraging everyone to get from their car to the building as quickly as possible.
    She placed first one, then the other black suede heel on the pavement, revealing long legs encased in a black silken mist.  She stepped out of her car, and adjusted the black and silver wrap abut her head and shoulders.  As she shut the door, she felt someone watching her, and looked up.
    About three cars away, a man in a very stylish black tuxedo was watching her as his middle aged wife struggled to get out of their burgundy Lincoln Continental.  Jo shook her head, and flashed a bright but unaffected smile at him.  She was flattered by his attention, knowing  she had really dressed to the nine this night.  But she had eyes for only one man, and he would never be admiring her over his wifes’ head.
    She turned away blithely and walked with long, graceful strides towards the lights inside the elegant glass and stone building.

    He pulled up in the driveway and turned off the lights on his truck.  He sat there for a moment, fighting a vaguely uneasy feeling rustling inside of him.  He stared into space, trying to pinpoint the unrest he was experiencing…annoyance?  Jealousy?  A restless protectiveness?  Pride?  What had he to feel any of those things about?  He shook his head, clearing away the senseless alarm that was sounding there.
    He didn’t want to be here tonight, that was probably what had him all stirred up, he thought to himself.  Another meeting about minute details and church politics in some well meaning but nosey old womans’ stuffy, spotless living room.  He’d been to three of these meetings this week, and he was getting a little burned out.  Hopefully, no one would be trying to set him up tonight.  He wasn’t ready for that.  And they hadn’t stopped trying since they’d found out about Anna.  He guessed ministers weren’t allowed to be single.  Must be one of those catch 22’s.
    Shaking himself out of his reverie, he gathered his notebooks and stepped into the cool, wet December night. He glanced up as he locked his doors, and noticed Mr. Simmons helping his very pregnant wife out of their mini van.  Their faces were radiant, and  they obviously made each other feel like stars in the sky, far removed from the mortal plane.  He remembered that feeling.  It seemed a long time ago.
    His thoughts wandered to Jo.  He wondered where she was tonight, and if she was thinking about him.  If he had any right to hope that she was.  He hadn’t given her any encouragement, any reason to think she should be.  Sighing, he tucked his books under his arm, and started up the driveway like an innocent man facing a death sentence.

    She stepped through the double glass doors, her presence attracting immediate attention from all those standing in the lobby.  She was distant, untouchable, with a smile like a princess; but at the same time was sanguine, warm, welcoming.  She shrugged the cowl of her wrap off of her head, heedless to the pile of  silky brown curls she’d spent hours arranging, and stepped forward, quickly adjusting herself to her surroundings.
    The large anteroom was full of people, networking, reestablishing ties, trying to make connections over their wine and scotch.  Everywhere she turned, there were distinguished older gentlemen talking business, with elegant bored looking matrons on their arms, all of them dripping with beads, sequins and jewels.  The long black and silver bar had obviously been busy, judging from the  overflowing tip jar and the very friendly bartender behind it.
    The room itself was amazing, and she thought the three months spent on arrangements for this night had not been for naught.  There were fresh pine trees clustered in every corner, bedecked in gold ribbons and white lights.  The tables and walls were decorated lavishly with pine boughs, gold lace and ribbon, and candles.  It was truly a very simplistic scheme…but simplicity executed with a very refined and artistic flair.
    She laid her wrap and purse down at the coat check counter, and smiled sympathetically at the disinterested college student attending there.  "Hello…happy holidays!", Jo said in her soft friendly voice.
    The coat clerk looked up startled at being addressed, then quickly found her bearings.  "Thank you, ma’am, and the same to you!" she replied.  She hung the black and silver wrap very carefully, and watched the lady as she headed for the bar.  How very odd, she thought to herself.  She just didn’t appear to be a part of this realm, or even really here; more figment of imagination than real and breathing person.  Her aura was so odd…she walked as though she were not alone, as though there were someone at her side at all times.  Bizarre!
    The girl shook her head a little as a short pudgy man thrust a worn coat at her with an impatient cough.

    "Mic!"  He cringed a little at the affectionate call of his name as the plump ancient hostess kissed his cheeks and took his coat.  "I’m so glad you made it!  And don’t you look nice?  Look, Mallory, don’t he look nice!  Quite a feat, Mic, how do you manage to dress so well without a woman there in the house?  Likely he buys new clothes every week, eh, Mallory?  We all know about men and laundry…." She laughed at herself, and Mic took the insult with grace. "Just look at that rain out there tonight!  How on earth are we supposed to get into the holiday spirit surrounded by rain puddles where snow drifts oughta be, I’d like to know!  We’ll have to wear galoshes to the services!  Can you imagine! What a scandal, it just isn’t done!  And won’t we all look like a pack of drowned cats sitting in the pews!  What a fine sight for our handsome, young minister to have to look at from his pulpit."  She clicked her tongue with regret, and hung his coat in the closet carefully. "Now, can I get you something to drink, dear?  Oh, I know!  When was the last time you had some fresh coffee? It’s been what, four months now?  There’s nothing a man loves more than fresh coffee, mark my word!  You go along now, make yourself comfortable, it won’t take a minute!"  And with that, Mrs. Foxe shoved him towards the living room and bustled off for the kitchen.
    He tried not to look annoyed or hurt as he headed for the living room where the Simmon’s were sitting together on the couch, laughing softly.  He thought of his ancient coffee pot, and how long it had taken him to show Anna how to use it correctly, to brew an absolutely perfect cup of coffee.  And he didn’t even like coffee, he only kept it for those times when a member of his flock was in need of comfort or warmth.  He did know how to brew a pot, however.  Did losing his marriage make him a domestic cripple?
    And of course he did his own laundry, he had a two year old child, for crying out loud!  It wasn’t as if he had had a woman looking after him all his life.  Mic was a man who could take care of himself.  He shopped, he cooked, he did laundry, he even, wonder of wonders, cleaned the house!  And he didn’t find it all that challenging either.  He hated the way the strong country women in this town treated men, as if they were absolutely useless unless you needed a tire changed, or a tree cut down, or some other brainless grunt work done.  As if they’d be absolutely helpless if you left them on their own for a day or two, let alone four months, or the rest of their lives, as Anna had done.
    He took darn good care of himself and his boy, he thought grumpily.  He wondered if these people would ever come out of the fifties and into the nineties.  He’d gladly welcome them with open arms and help them every step of the way.  He knew they were trying to be helpful, but sometimes it just got so hard to ignore.  He didn’t need a woman, he could wait until he found one he really wanted.  Which made him think of Jo, and how he had helped her through the realization that you can’t stay with someone for safety, you have to wait for love.
    "Oh, and Mic?  Guess who’s coming tonight?"  The playful tone to her voice made his skin crawl and stopped him in his tracks.  "Carrie Lynne!!!" He sighed wearily.  "I see the way she moons over you in church on Sundays.  Mark my word, child, that girl has eyes for you.  And you know what they say about falling off the horse, dear…"  Her voice was cheery and encouraging.  He thought he could cheerfully strangle her right at that moment.
    For a minute, he almost felt Jo beside him.  He felt the soft, welcome, friendly touch of her hand on his arm.  If he strained, he could hear the impertinent remark she would have made under her breath, and the easy laughter that would follow.  He settled into the old, overstuffed armchair that was too narrow for his wide shoulders with a broad smile on his face, lost in their inside joke.
    Mrs. Foxe entered the room with her ancient tea tray crowded with coffee and all the fixings to go with it.  "Uh-huh…don’t think these old eyes are missing that smile on your face, sir!  Thought the idea of a young, pretty thing here would lighten that chip you carry around on your shoulder!"  She winked at Greg Simmons, who had the decency to look uncomfortable as he feigned a sudden burning interest in his wifes hand.
    He thought miserably of Anna, then of Jo.  Yes, having a young pretty thing here tonight would have helped.  The right young pretty thing.

    She stepped away from the bar gracefully with her ice water and lemon, and started towards the ballroom.  She knew that she wouldn’t be dancing tonight, but she still thought she had better go in and see it.
    It wasn’t a lack of admirers that would keep her from the floor; she had become aware of the frankly interested gazes in her direction, the appreciative looks that swept up the long slits that rose well over halfway up her thigh on either side of her black dress; the appraising glances at the creamy antique pearl choker she wore about her bare neck.  But she was also well aware of a sense of disinterest, on her part.  After having been close to Mic, the idea of being close to anyone else seemed…well…distasteful, and disloyal.  John headed in her direction, and she knew he would like to talk to her - and then some.  She merely ignored him with a bemused look, and slipped away in the opposite direction.
    And ran smack into a lovely, strident blonde in four inch heels, and lipstick and nail polish that would make a fire engine cry for shame.  Jo wasn’t sure she had ever seen a red that bright before in her life.  She smiled affectionately as the blonde wrapped her arms around her and kissed her cheeks in the air, so as not to mar the lipstick.
    "Jo, darling, Merry Christmas!  Where the hell have you been?"  She stepped back and took Jo’s arm, leading her into the ballroom. "Isn’t it incredible?  Well, of course it is, after all, you planned it, didn’t you?  But God, woman, how on earth did you ever get all of this out of that skinflint boss of ours?"  Suzi threw the skinflint boss a sunny smile from across the room, and waved the flute of champagne in her free hand at him.  Jo smiled too, a more reserved but pleasant smile, and continued to be lead through the milling crowd.
    The ballroom looked fabulous as well.  The small glass and gold tables  scattered about the edges of the room were delicately set with large mistletoe centerpieces, strung with tiny silver bells, and had several candles burning on them.  The chairs were small and dainty, the seats covered in emerald and ruby colored damask.  The room was very softly lit, the only light source the candles on the tables and the golden lights strung everywhere.  Truly, the effect was very romantic, and breathtaking.  She thought of Mic in this room, and stifled a small laugh, knowing how uncomfortable he’d be in the prissy, feminine environment.
    Suzi looked over her shoulder at her, nearly falling on her face in the four inch stilettos she wore, and misread the amused look on Jo’s face.  "Yeah, so I had a few too many already…who cares, it’s a party!"  The bright light in her eyes had Jo laughing and agreeing wholeheartedly. "And you never did answer me!  Where the hell were you?  I’ve had time to interview all the Mr. Wonderful’s in the room, and pick the perfect one for you.  He’s chilling in the West corner over there."
    Jo shook her head as she looked in the direction where Suzi had pointed.  He was very good looking, in a magazine cover kind of way.  Her type was more the larger than life, earthly handsome, common sense type.  She hated to be outshone by a man who took longer to do his hair than she did.  "Give me a break, hon, it took me a while to put this look together.  There’s a reason I don’t look like this everyday, you know.  Besides, from all appearances, I haven’t held the celebration up much!"  Jo looked at Suzi pointedly, with her too bright smile and flushed cheeks. They both laughed.
    "Well, no, you haven’t!  Just make sure to go back and check on Mr. RightNow sometime soon."  One of the tall, blonde executives they worked with came up from behind, grabbing Suzi around the waist, and whirling her off to the dance floor.  Jo was not the least bit surprised.  Suzi, as wonderful as she was, was not all that bright.  And she had gotten to the top the only way she could have…she slept her way there.
    "Ugh, I gotta run, Jo!  Duty calls!  Remember what they say, champagne is best well chilled….I think that applies to prince’s too…"  Jo laughed out loud as she watched Suzi disappear into the crowd.  She dropped into one of the emerald chairs at an empty table, watching the dancers whirling about the floor, and the people mingling in large, boisterous groups.  She looked demure and serene, sitting there sipping her water, the candlelight reflected in her eyes.  Occasionally, a quirky smile would come to her lips, or her eyes would fill with laughter as they scanned the room.  Her hand rested lightly on the table, just as if it were resting on someone else’s there, her fingers making lazy circles on the glass.  And no one looking at her could have quite explained it, but they got the sense that she was not really lonely - or alone.

    Mic tried to focus as the trivial discussions and debates waged on.  He had stopped listening sometime after they had picked the absolutely perfect shade of gold for the altar cloth, and before they had gone into a heated debate about the apparently complicated and earth-shatteringly important issue of how to set up the flowers for the next several weeks.  He toyed with the doily on the arm of his uncomfortable seat, and tried to look as if he were considering the matter earnestly.
    Carolyn Ann sat cross legged on the floor across from him in her hot pink leggings and the cute little pink and yellow mini sweater number she had borrowed from Peggy.  She had spent hours primping the strawberry blonde spiral curls, and making sure her nails matched her ensemble.  Not that it mattered, she thought with sincere irritation.  He wouldn’t be noticing anyway.  Silly her.  She gave a small, indignant snort as she patted her hair self-consciously, and then smiled nervously and nodded feigned agreement so Mrs. Foxe wouldn’t see that she couldn’t possibly care less whether the floral arrangements for the altar were made up of carnations when the choir was singing "Lo, How a Rose Eer Blooming".  She only went to church for the single men.  Or to find out who would be becoming a single man.
    She thought she had hit the mother load when that airhead Anna left Mic.  She sat watching him closely, and wondered what it was about him that made her realize she had wasted her time.  Something in the way his large body rested in the small ancient looking arm chair.  Not as though he were uncomfortable and trying to fight it, but almost as though someone were perched on the arm beside him, leaning close to his side.  Or the way he ran his thumbs over the doily absent-mindedly, not as if he were trying to avoid boredom, but as if he were holding someone’s hand.  Or that far off sort of soft look that had come to his eyes as they were discussing how long the candles would burn each night during advent, and the soft flush that had risen up his cheekbones immediately afterwards.  Or was it just some untouchable aura around him?  As if he wasn’t really sitting in this room at all, and where ever he was, he was not alone.
    She didn’t know, but couldn’t have cared less, either.  No man was worth this much effort.  Although he would have been a nice catch.  She sighed deeply, ignoring Mrs. Foxe’s sharp glance as she took a deep sip of her tea.  Oh, well.  Bobby was still free.  And he came with a big screen t.v.

    She sat for a long time, watching the excitement around her, sipping at her water.  She could almost see Mic wriggling uncomfortably in this setting, which brought a smile to her lips.  As her eyes lit on a heavy set woman in a short, tight, fuchsia gown, she could almost hear his laughter.  She could imagine having to jab him in the ribs with her elbow, lest she start laughing too, and appear rude.  She noted that sight, and numerous other anecdotes to share with him later that evening.
    Occasionally, people would slip out of the swirling, whirling mist here and there.  They’d say hello, stop to chat, compliment the attire that had taken her nearly a month to put together, inquire about job opportunities, and the latest company gossip.  She smiled at them kindly, chatted warmly, and thanked them for their comments.  One by one, they would fade back into the crowd, and she would resume the humorous musings in her own little world.
    She felt a small little bump on the back of her chair and turned, slightly startled, to find a small boy wiggling in a chair behind her, obviously unhappy in his little formal suit, and bored out of his mind with all the grown up chatter.  So charming, so darling, she thought, with warm brown hair so like Mic’s; he caught her heart in a second.   She smiled very sweetly at him, raised her hand to wave her fingers, and mouthed a soft little hello.
    She had gotten his attention, and he sat up very straight, staring at her shyly from behind the chair back.  But she only responded with a bedazzling grin, crossing her eyes for a second, and sticking out her tongue.  He giggled a little, and she leaned in to talk to him in a conspiratorial tone.
    "Hello there, little man!  Nice suit!  Are you all dressed up for the party?"  At this he nodded proudly, and raised his little feet to display the brand new, shiny dress shoes he was wearing.      "Whoa, those are very nice shoes, sweetie!  I have new shoes, too, wanna see?"  As he nodded again, she raised her own feet in front of her so he could see the black suede open toed heels.  He admired the shoes, then looked up at her, grinning into her eyes with a broad smile.  She laughed at herself, tapping his tiny nose with her forefinger playfully.  She wondered if Mic’s little boy would be so easy to win, or if she’d ever have a chance to try.  For a moment, she was filled with the thought of the child they might make together, and the beauty of the thought choked her.  She flashed back to reality as a small hand rested on her arm, and little brown eyes filled with concern looked up at her.  She crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue again to relieve the pressure, and they laughed together.
    Then he looked away as a small, delicate looking woman stepped off of the dance floor and reached and arm out to him.  "Come on, Seth, darling…time to go home."  Her husbands arm lay about her waist protectively, and he ruffled the boy’s hair as he ran to the welcoming presence of his family.  Seth hugged his mother’s legs tightly, nearly causing her to stumble.  His parents exchanged a warm glance, and then his mother smiled down on him.  Jo thought for a moment how beautiful that scene was, what it would feel like to be a part of it, to be in it, how strong her desire was to do just that.  She thought of how often Mic had described this feeling to her, how she wished she could feel it with him.  She glanced at the happy family, blushing as Seth pointed out her new shoes to his mother.  She thought he fit every description of the little boy Mic so loved, and he was instantly engraved on her heart.
    "He’s adorable, you’re both very lucky!  Such a little gentleman!  I only hope I will be as lucky someday."  Jo’s eyes twinkled and she smiled fondly up at his mother.
    "Thank you." His mother said, with a touch of European accent in her voice, and more than a touch of pride.  His father picked Seth up in strong secure arms, and taking his wife’s hand, he turned toward the exit.  She followed him, then turned hesitantly, and smiled back at Jo.  "Merry Christmas!"  She called softly, then turned to follow her family.
     "Merry Christmas!" Jo replied brightly, waving at little Seth, who waved back before laying his  head on his daddy’s shoulder and rubbing his eyes sleepily.  She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer.  Someday.  Maybe.  Please.

     The meeting finally over, Mic stood at the doorway and said his good-byes, thanking every one for their time, ad their help.  Carolyn Ann had switched from hot to cold at some point during the meeting, saints be praised, and had sulked off after somewhat discreetly asking Greg for his cousin’s phone number.  Mark shook his head.  Women.  Not that he cared she wasn’t interested, frankly, she was the kind of woman he and Anna had always laughed about; the kind of woman Jo would have sized up with one caustic glance and completely shrugged off.
     He put on his coat, waiting for Mrs. Foxe to retrieve the cookies she’d baked for his son and he.  For the Holiday, she’d said.  Everyone should have home baked cookies for the Holiday, she’d said. He groaned.  He was sure they would be sugar cookies.  No woman like Mrs. Foxe had the foresight to cook anything but sugar cookies around Christmas.  He grinned victoriously in his head - he had bought chocolate chips yesterday just in case this situation should arise.  He and Robbie would make real cookies tomorrow.  He chuckled to himself in anticipation of cleaning up flour that would be all over the kitchen during Robbie’s nap.
     As he waited, his eyes fell on Mallory Simmons, who was staring into the fire from the love seat as she waited for Greg to bring her coat.  He thought everything people said about that special glow during pregnancy was right on.  Her eyes had a serene, calm luminescence, and her hands were caressing her swollen abdomen as if by habit; long, soothing strokes and gentle, rhythmic patting.  The happiness of her soon to be motherhood radiated from her.
     His thoughts floated to Robbie then, and how beautiful Anna had been when she carried him, how much in love they had been.  He remembered, with a wry smile, running out at two o’ clock in the morning for a certain brand of mint chocolate chip ice cream, only to arrive home to have her sobbing her eyes out, sure some horrible catastrophe had befallen him.  He remembered how angry she had gotten when he had tried to eat some of it the next morning, and how she had cried on his chest thirty seconds later, gut wrenching sobs, apologizing profusely for her temper.
     He remembered curling up in bed behind her at night, with his hands resting on her belly, and the feeling of his pre-natal son  kicking him.  He remembered holding her hands, soothing back her hair, whispering soft words of encouragement as she’d strained to bring forth their first child, how incredibly close to her he’d felt, and how helpless he’d felt as she screamed out his name.  And never in a life time would he forget the first time he’d seen Robbie - perfect, real, his.  All of a sudden, he’d acquired a family.  He was no longer alone in this world, and he would never in his life be alone again.
     She was gone from his life now.  He loved her; he had since they were children, and he always would.  They had not been able to make that love enough.  They were so young when they started, they had both changed in so many ways.  The people they had become were completely different from the teen-agers who had pledged their love, and ultimately were incompatible.  He missed her.  He missed them, the them that they had been so many years ago.
     But he would never be alone again, whether she was there or not.  He would always have Robbie now, the darling, easy going little man.  He adored everyone he met, and everyone they met adored him, but none so much as his daddy.
     And suddenly he realized he had Jo, too, if he wanted her. He wondered, briefly, if he would ever have another child.  What Jo would look like round with the fruit of their love growing safely inside her.  He could see her then, as Mallory looked up at Greg and smiled wearily.  He could see Jo, her face superimposed in his vision.  He could see her golden brown hair falling in long, shining waves over her shoulders, framing the clear, snowy, complexion and those rich, dawn-tinted lips... and those eyes!  Those incredible blue eyes, which always gazed at him so warmly, as though he were more than human to her, as though if he wanted to he could move mountains with the power of his will alone.  Those shocking, brilliant, deep blue eyes which always shone with love and adoration, yet never asking anything from him in return.  Those eyes that hit him square in the gut as he remembered them, and always knocked the air out of his chest.
     He shook his head to clear the illusion.  He kissed Mrs. Foxe on the cheek distractedly thanking her profusely for the plate in his hands.   He turned into the cool, rainy night with his perfectly iced, cheerfully decorated sugar cookies.

     Jo nibbled carefully at an elegant snowflake sugar cookie that one of the waitresses had set before her.  Suddenly, she could see his face before her, sitting across the table from her.  She caught her breath, watching the mirage, it’s features heart-stopingly familiar.  Then she broke into a fit of giggles and nearly choked as the face twisted and the warm chocolate colored eyes gazed with complete disgust upon the poor, harmless desert in her hand.
     She stopped laughing, however, as a heavy hand began banging on her back, sending her crashing back into reality, and fading the cherished image away completely.  She looked back to find a blurry eyed Suzi trying to look at her with concern and not fall over at the same time.  Guessing at the state of her friends inebriation, Jo thought it was probably not an easy task.
     "Goodnesh, girl…are you….o..k..?"  Suzi managed to mutter, clinging to the back of Jo’s chair.  Jo stared at Suzi for a minute in shock, swallowing.  Suzi always was the party girl, tall blonde and gorgeous, with a guy to compliment every outfit in her wardrobe.  But beyond the drunken slur and the cloudy eyes, Jo thought she saw something new, some special excitement in her eyes; and she thought just maybe Suzi was about to learn that you can’t break hearts from coast to coast night after night without having it come back to you once or twice.
     "Suzi…ugh, yes, thanks for the rescue, darling.  I guess that cookie went down the wrong way."  Jo looked around the ballroom, slightly disoriented from her vision of Mic and the near death experience it had incurred.  All of the tuxedos and the sparkling, bejeweled gowns had been slowly wandering out and collecting coats as the evenings festivities wound down.  "Looks like everyone’s moved on, huh?"
     Suzi blinked then turned around slowly and clumsily, taking the room in.  "Yea, loosh like it.  Guesh I better turn off the lightsh and get going...Shteve is taking me in hish Porche, he’sh waiting right over there." She giggled then like a little girl, as she fumbled in the bosom of her dress for the door key.
     Jo smiled fondly, laying a hand on Suzi’s arm.  "Please, Suzi.  You go ahead with Steve.  I’ll do the shut down and lock up.  I’ll even remember to blow out every candle, darling I promise."
 Suzi looked at her skeptically. "You shure?" she slurred.
    Jo held back an affectionate laugh, and nodded sincerely.  "Of course.  I have no plans tonight, and you said yourself he’s waiting for you.  Go on, hon, let me take care of this place.  You go take care of that guy."  She kept nodding as she spoke, hoping the message would eventually cut through the alcohol induced fog of her friends brain.
    Suzi dropped the key in Jo’s hand, shrugging as she leaned over to kiss her cheek.  "Thanksh, girl, I really owe ya one thish time.  But you could bounce quartersh off thish guysh…."
    Jo cleared her throat.  "Uh-huh, I get the picture.  Have a good night."
     "Coursh, if you’d have talked to the hottie I had lined up for you even onsh thish evening, he might not haf left wif Shara…." Jo listened to the half hearted scolding Suzi gave her with amusement, watching as she weaved her way back across the ballroom, and waving as she took Steve’s arm and floated off through the exit.
    She kicked off her heels, lifted her long skirts a little so she wouldn’t trip, and trudged off to find the light switches.

    He unlocked the front door, stepped inside, and kicked it shut behind him as he threw his books down on the hallway table.  The kitchen light he’d left on made the place seem a little warmer to come home to, but with Robbie at his mothers house for the evening, the house was empty, and he could feel it.
    His heart was a lonely ache as he headed for his office to wind down before calling it a night and heading off to bed.  He was a study in misery…still in love with his ex-wife, who had abandon him.  Now in love with a woman he had no right to claim, and whom he was afraid of hurting.  But somewhere in his mind was the sound of Jo’s voice when she called out his name.  And the thought of it made the ache lessen.

    She flicked off every light switch slowly, deliberately.  A tingle of excitement ran through her.  She almost felt like Mic was waiting for her in the grand, empty, candle lit ballroom.  That was ridiculous, of course.  She wasn’t even really a part of his life yet, and didn’t know if she ever would be.
    But she still always had the feeling he was never far from her, that he had changed her somehow, marked her.

    And she was alone.  The ballroom was chilly, and she shivered.  She hurried to blow out the candles, and to get home.  She was going to teach the Sunday School Class tomorrow, and she would need a good nights sleep.

    Before she left the ballroom, she turned, her wrap flung over one shoulder. Her eyes locked on the center of the ballroom, and a dazzlingly secretive smile spread across her face as her elegantly manicured nails traced her slightly swollen lips.  She knew she would never be the same, and that no matter what the outcome now, she would love him for a lifetime; if only for the gift of this one night, of that solitary kiss.
    She turned and hurried through the foyer and the lobby, locking doors behind her as she went.

    He speculated the possibility that he had gone mad.  Then some impulse stirred him, and he raised the beige sweater he had just taken off to his nose. And there, sure enough, was the distinctive smell of pine, candle wax, and her perfume.  He knew without a doubt that she had been there with him, to comfort and to love.  He didn’t know what it meant he knew he would never speak of it, to her, or to anyone else.  But he also knew somehow, he would never be the same.
    He flicked off the kitchen light, and headed upstairs for bed.

    The wind was icy, and she pulled the elegant wrap tighter about her as she rushed across the parking lot.  She stopped at her car door, and on impulse, looked up at the night sky, her eyes catching on one certain star.

    He stood in his boxers in his bedroom, and shut off the light.  He got into bed, and laid down on his back with the covers tossed over him carelessly, staring at the ceiling.  Then a bright, beautiful star caught his attention at the window, and he turned his gaze to it.