Hankie Alert!! There is adult content in this part. See Part I for specific disclaimers. I have borrowed a poem from Edgar A. Guest entitled The Home of Peace. It’s a commentary about family. Enough said; he is far more eloquent than I am. (That’s why I borrowed his poem. <VBG>)

Thaksgiving

Conclusion Part B

by

Fantasy

November 23, 2000 Happy Thanksgiving!!!

Chapter 8: Turkey Day

The weekend and few days leading up to Thanksgiving were busy ones. Syd stayed overnight at the Trauma Center under observation. Neither Becca or I left her side during the night. In the waiting room, there was an all night vigil as well: Irish and Gil, the Flannerys, including Ange of course, the Margie and Hank Donaldson, Manny and Elena Vargas, along with their sons, Scott and David, and of course Harley and Angie. No one wanted to leave until Syd was able to come home. The love our friends expressed to us that night was overwhelming to me. I did go out after some time and insist Angie go lie down and rest in my office. I didn’t want to run the risk of having Angie get over tired and aggravate her heart condition. The stress of the last twelve hours was enough strain as it was. Although I suspect she handled it better than the rest of us did. I chased everyone out and sent them to their respective homes around 7:00am. We brought Syd home around 10:00am. When we arrived at the house, Margie and Angie had fixed breakfast for us and made sure Syd’s room was in order for her. That’d be a neat trick. Tell me how they did it? I sent my recalcitrant daughter to bed after she ate a light breakfast. She was no worse for her ordeal although she complained of a throbbing headache. I made sure her eyes were reacting appropriately to light and were tracking well before I gave her any pain medication. Then all she got was a couple Ibuprofen. The phone rang incessantly throughout the day inquiring about Syd’s condition. I found that to be very heartwarming as well. Nip and Tuck never left their mistress’s side, and even Margie looked the other way when she went to check on Syd and found the two mutts on the bed with her while she lay fast asleep.

Lieutenant O’Brien came by to tie up some loose ends, and we shared a couple of Coronas while he explained what would happen to Barbara Askins.

"It’s pretty obvious she won’t be seeing the outside of a prison cell for the rest of her life. Of course, she’ll probably be placed in an institution for the criminally insane. She admitted to everything. Her attorneys and psychiatrists were present for all questioning. She may be a lunatic, but she knew exactly what she was doing. I know that doesn’t make sense, but she is responsible for her actions and understands the consequences for those actions." Kyle just shook his head.

"Kinda like Adolf Hitler and Sadam Hussein, only on a smaller scale." The lieutenant nodded. "Well thank God it’s over." I was afraid to ask the next question for fear of the answer I’d get. I looked to my angel, and she knew what I was thinking too.

"Kyle," she asked, "is there any word on Mr. and Mrs. Stafford?" Becca asked.

"We contacted the sheriff’s department in Ellensberg, but so far we haven’t heard anything. The next words out of my angel’s mouth were so like something she would say.

"They have lost so much, it’s so unfair. Kyle, I want you to do everything you can to find them for us, please." Kyle looked to me first for my reaction before he answered. I nodded my assent. What my heart wants, my heart gets.

"All right Rebecca," Kyle answered, "I’ll do whatever it takes to find them." Kyle rose to leave and I followed him to the door to see him out. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asked.

"No I’m not," I sighed, "but it’s the right thing to do. Thanks for everything Kyle." The young officer only shrugged.

"I’m afraid I didn’t do a very good job. It took a seventeen-year-old kid to stop that whacko." I smiled.

"Never underestimate the power of love my friend. It’s the strongest thing on this earth."

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

"Mother are you sure this is such a good idea? Don’t you remember what happened last Christmas when mom carved the turkey." The members of our family gathered ‘round the formal dining table all laughed at my daughter’s pointed comment.

"Hey young lady! Do you want to eat or not? Besides, I’m a gifted surgeon; I am renowned the world over for my delicate precise hands." Harley couldn’t resist a comment.

"Yeah but when was the last time you operated on a turkey?" Oh yeah?

"Keep it up buddy boy, and I may practice on you."

"Oooooo, I am so scared," Harley returned.

"All right you two that is enough, you’re worse than a couple of little kids." Angie demanded, "Besides dear, last Thanksgiving, you went after the turkey with an electric knife like a logger goes after a tree with a chain saw." I remember that jarine, was turkey flyin’ everywhere.

"Go ahead honey, I have faith in you," my wife purred.

"Thanks babe, I’m glad someone does."

I set about carving the turkey and then placing a portion of whatever each person seated at the table wanted. This Thanksgiving was just for the family. We’d have a dinner on the weekend for our friends and extended family. Today was just for Harley and Angie, Becca, Syd, and I. Oh yeah our two canine kids sat expectantly on either side of my chair at the head of the table. Margie would shit a brick if she knew. Yeah but no one’s gonna tell her so how’s she gonna know. The woman has radar, mark my words she’ll find out.

The meal consisted of the traditional fare: turkey and dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy, green bean casserole, with mushroom soup and onion rings on top. We had candied yams, and Syd’s favorite, Waldorf Salad made with lime jello, cottage cheese, sour cream, walnuts, and mayonaise. For dessert we had Angie’s homemade pumpkin and deep-dish apple pies with thin slices cheddar cheese laid on top.

Before we could east, the traditional wine toast was made. Since dinner was at our house, and I was the head of the household…so you say…it was incumbent upon me to make the toast. I had reflected over the past several days about what I would say to my family. How could I put into words what was in my heart? I wasn’t particularly comfortable with words, giving speeches, I did it often enough at work, or medical seminars, but with family or friends gathered around me, I always seemed to trip over my tongue and make a fool of myself. So just like I did in my Romantic Literature class, I cheated and found someone who was much better with words than me…

Here is a little world where children play

And just a few red roses greet July;

Above it smiles God’s stretch of summer sky;

Here laughter rings to mark the close of day;

There is no greater splendor far away.

Here slumber comes with all her dream supply;

And friendship visits as the days go by;

Here love and faith keep bitterness at bay.

Should up this walk come wealth or smiling fame,

Some little treasures might be added here,

But life itself would still remain the same:

Love is no sweeter in a larger sphere.

This little world of ours wherein we live

Holds now the richest joys which life can give.

For a little bit, there wasn’t a sound in the room, then the large man who had become my father arose from his chair and engulfed me in strong arms. He kissed me affectionately on the top of my head, and then raised his glass to the three women who remained sitting at the table.

"That’s us," he said simply, "that’s us." We all drank a Thanksgiving toast.

"To us," we said in unison.

"Now let’s eat," Syd said emphatically, "I’m starved!"

The remainder of the meal was past with jovial conversation and playful banter. The events of the previous Friday, except for Syd’s excellent performance in the basketball game, was beginning to be pushed to the recesses of our collective subconscious mind.

"Don’t forget you guys, there is another game a week from this Friday. This game is in Santa Barbara. Maybe we could spend the weekend with gram and gramps, ya think?" Of course Harley was all for that.

"You bet, you are more than welcome. In fact we’ve got the beds all made up right babe?"

"We certainly do. You haven’t been up to see us in a while, and we do so enjoy your visits."

"There ya see mom, it’s okay with gram and gramps. So can we." C’mon smartass, go ahead and be the heavy and say no. I dare ya. Give me some credit; I’m not that stupid.

"I don’t see why we can’t. What’dya think babe? Do you have any plans?"

"Nothing I can’t cancel. It sounds like fun, and we can’t miss any of Syd’s games." I decided to have a little fun with my daughter.

"I wanna watch Scott and the boys lead the cheers. They were pretty good. Hey Syd, when did you and Scott Vargas become such good friends? I noticed he’s been over here a lot more lately." My blonde haired imp nearly choked on her turkey.

"Uh…well…uh…what do you mean good friends, and why do you ask?" I had captured a certain grandfather’s attention as well.

"Yeah cutie, when did that big fella start spendin’ so much time around here anyway? Just what are his intentions young lady." Angie stopped Harley’s cross-examination.

"Harley, Stacey now you just stop this right now, the both of you. Let Sydnee answer. But before you do dear, don’t think you have to tell us anything too private. That’s between you and your parents."

"No, that’s okay grams. Scott and I are just good friends, and I really didn’t plan on getting involved with anyone. You remember mom, that talk we had a while back. I meant what I said, and I still do. But I guess Scott had other ideas. I think he feels more than I do. Then after the other night I got to thinking maybe I’ve been to narrow in my thinking. You know tunnel vision. What do you think Mother?"

"Honey I think you’re very young and you have your whole life ahead of you, so don’t rush into anything. But then, Scott is a very nice young man."

"That’s for sure," I announced, "you could do a lot worse." Jeeze that was smooth.

"Mom really. But you two were pretty young. When did you know it was right for you." My angel and I gazed at each other.

"The first time I saw your mother I thought she was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen." I kissed my lover’s lips lightly.

"That’s right baby, I knew the first time I laid eyes on Stacey she was the one person I wanted to spend my life with."

"How could you? You were only twelve years old!" Harley yelled.

"Dear, calm down. You’ll explode." Angie patted her husband’s hand. "Let Rebecca explain herself."

"I didn’t know anything about sex dad. I just knew that Stacey needed a friend, and I wanted to be the one person throughout our lives Stacey could always turn to when she needed a friend. Love came later, much later. What I’m trying to say is take your time. We want you to be sure. Don’t rush into something you’re not sure of."

"That’s right pumpkin," I added.

"Hon how do you feel about Scott?" my angel asked.

"I like him…a lot…but I don’t think I love him yet. Maybe I led him on the other night. I have to fix this huh?" I nodded.

"Yeah that would be a really good idea."

"But I don’t want to lose him. What do I do?"

"Sweet heart," Angie said softly, "if he really cares for you, he’ll understand. The important thing is to be honest with him."

"I guess I’m gonna have a busy weekend huh?" Harley chuckled.

"Appears like."

Well now that the plans for that weekend were settled, we finished our Thanksgiving meal with companionable conversation. Then cleared the table and adjourned to the living room to watch football.

"Does anyone want desert now," Becca called from the dining room. Syd Harley and I just stared at each other, then at our protruding bellies.

"No thanks babe, we better let this dinner settle for awhile. Thanks anyway."

"Syd flip on the TV, the Cowboys and Vikings are playing. I can’t wait to see who John Madden gives the turkey to this year." Harley just snorted.

"Can you imagine a six legged turkey."

"Aahh gramps, they just put extra legs with it, there really isn’t a six legged turkey."

"Good Lord girl, I know that!" Then without warning the teenager threw herself into her grandfather’s lap resulting in a huge expulsion of air from the older man’s lungs.

"Good God Syd, be careful. After the dinner Harley just ate you’re in danger of having recycled turkey all over the lounger." Oh thanks for that visual. Well it’s true.

"It isn’t that I don’t love you darlin’, but what brought that on?" Harley asked seriously.

"Oh gramps I just love having you and grams around; you make me happy. There are lots of people who don’t have families to spend the holidays with. It’s just so sad. Is it wrong that I’m so happy, with what I have, while there are people who don’t even have food or houses to live in?"

"No darlin’ it’s not wrong. You should never be ashamed of what you have, but you don’t need to flaunt it at those who don’t have as much either. I think it is our responsibility to give back to the community. Ya know to those folks who don’t have as much as we do."

"Yeah that’s what mom says." Suddenly watching the ball game didn’t seem very important any longer. I got up and walked toward the front door, where upon I met my angel coming into the living room.

"Where are you off to," my world asked softly. I kissed, passionately, the lips I loved so much. Then again and again, reveling in the sensual feel of my love’s soft textures. Sucking in her sweetness. When we broke from the kiss, and was slightly dazed.

"Uh what?"

"I said where are you off too?"

"Oh yeah, to take care of business." My loving wife smiled knowingly, then with another sweet kiss, she whispered.

"Don’t be long."

"I won’t, promise." Angie came out of the kitchen and wrapped her arm around her daughter.

"Where’s Stacey Lynn going?"

"To check on her kids." My angel replied softly.

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

I pulled the Blazer into my parking spot at the trauma center. This annual trip had become a ritual. It started when I was in John Hopkins, mostly because I was alone for the holidays, and had to be on duty anyway. I spent most of my free time in the Peds Unit. There always seemed to be no lack of tiny little sick and injured bodies that required care. Sickness and disease didn’t make any distinctions where the holidays were concerned. So when I opened the trauma center, I just continued to spend part of the day with the little ones in the hospice nursery and peds unit. One of the last people I expected to see here tonight was Irish. Why? She’s been here every Thanksgiving since you’ve know her. Why would this Thanksgiving be any different? I guess you’re right. Naturally, why do you question me? Habit.

"And just what in the hell do you think you’re doing here," I asked in the most puffed up Chief of Staff demeanor I could muster.

"Oh don’t even go there with me, Miz Thing, I’m not impressed. Besides, I could ask you the same thing."

"Oh you know, habit. I’ll be in the nursery if you need me." As an after thought I pulled Skeeter down from his perch and took him with me. Irish gave me one of her looks. "Hey, the boogie man might get me. He’s good at scaring them away." Irish just rolled her eyes. Did I mention I hated that?

"Whatever. Don’t be long."

"I won’t. Oh and Irish?"

"Yeah?"

"Happy Thanksgiving."

"Thanks Stacey, same to you."

I found the nursery just as I had left it the day before. Unfortunately the beds were full of little innocents who were in varying stages of recovery from injuries received at the hands of vicious, hateful abusers, who were most likely a parent. Their injuries ranged to minor cuts and bruises to severe head and abdominal trauma. The still critical cases were still housed in Pediatric ICU; that was Drs. Rachel Donnovon-Evans and Isabelle Monson's area of expertise. These children were far from critical now, at least physically. Their fragile psyches however were far from healed. The hospice nursery was under the directorship of Mary Beth Roward, Ph.D in Psychiatry with a specialty in Family Counseling. I stole her away from Cedars Sinai. Over the years, she and her staff had performed miracles in healing these damaged little spirits and helped their families go on with their lives.

With my fuzzy little assistant in hand, I went into the common room, where in the corner, our story corner, I found the Hospice Director surrounded by eager little faces awaiting a Thanksgiving story. I gave my nursery director a dour glare, which wasn’t very intimidating at all, and walked over to where she was sitting in the ‘Story Chair’.

"What’dya think you’re doing here on a holiday?" I asked sternly.

"I could ask you the same question, ya know." Mary Beth returned matter of factly.

"I’m the boss, I can do what I want." I replied haughtily. A toe-head little three-year-old spied my furry friend.

"Skeeter!" He shouted.

Mary Beth was in a state of total and utter shock. Little Cameron McMurray hadn’t spoken a word during the three months he had been here. He was so traumatized at witnessing the brutal beating and rape of his twelve-year-old sister at the hands of his father he hadn’t spoken a word since. Shala McMurray died later that same night of massive internal injuries. Her aorta ruptured, along with her spleen, and by the time she arrived at the center, there was very little we could do to save her; she died on the operating table. Lisa McMurray came here with her children that night, and she had been here since, awaiting the murder trial of her husband. The abuse had been going on for some six months, but Lisa couldn’t believe her husband guilty of such a heinous crime. After all, those kinds of things happened in only poverty-stricken homes, not in the homes in exclusive Hollywood Hills. Wrong, during the operation, in addition to the new injuries, we found evidence of a botched abortion performed on the child. The little boy had been plagued by nightmares for the first six weeks he was here. They had all but stopped, but still he hadn’t spoken. I managed to find my voice.

"That’s right Cam, Skeeter came to visit you. He’s been wanting to talk to you for some time now. He’d really like to be your friend."

"Can…I…hold…him?" The little child asked timidly. "I…I…won’t hurt him."

"Of course you can darlin’," I replied softly. "May I hold you?" The unsure little boy thought about his options carefully. He hadn’t allowed anyone to hold him, even his mother for months. He almost retreated back into his shell, but the need to hold the furry, soft bear was too much of a temptation.

"Okay, I guess. You won’t hurt me will you?"

"Oh no sweetling, I promise. I won’t hurt you. And I swear that as God as my witness, no one will ever hurt you again." The three-year-old threw himself into my arms and sobbed, the convulsions wracking his tiny little body.

"My Daddy did it, he hurt her. He hurt sissy. Why?" The little child clutched Skeeter tightly to his chest and cried. I wrapped this hurting, tiny innocent in my arms and rocked him back and forth.

"I can’t answer that darlin’, but your sissy is in a better place now. She’s happy, and she wouldn’t want you to be sad for her." The sobs subsided somewhat and he asked.

"Is she with God," he hiccuped, "that’s what that funny nurse said."

"Funny nurse?" I asked.

"Yeah, she talks funny." Aaahh Irish, that old fraud, wait’ll I…you won’t have too wait take a look. I looked toward the door and there was the fraud herself dabbing her eyes with a tissue. I smiled through my own tears and nodded at my friend.

"Well Cameron, how would you like to keep Skeeter with you tonight. He has a secret, and no one else is supposed to know, but I think we can trust you. We can trust you can’t we?" Cameron nodded enthusiastically. "Okay then. You see Skeeter’s afraid of the dark. But I think that if he sleeps with you he’ll be okay. Ya think?"

"Yes lady, I can watch him and make sure he’s not scared." A four-year-old Hispanic boy came over to us and kissed me on the cheek.

"Her name is Dr. Mac," he stated proudly, "not lady. My name’s Juan, what’s yours?" Cameron looked from me, to Mary Beth, then to Irish for some sign of reassurance. I nodded.

"It’s okay, tell Juan your name," I prodded.

"My name…is…uh…Cameron." Juan shrugged satisfied at the answer, then plopped himself down next to Cam.

"My mamma works here. She’s a nurse. I come here cause we don’t got no one to watch me when she’s workin’. I like it here. Do you?"

"We don’t have anyone, young man." A soft voice, with a slight accent, corrected. Elizabeth Garcia, Gus’s niece had been working for the trauma center as a pediatric nurse for five years. She was well liked by the children, and staff. "Hi Dr. McGregor, Happy Thanksgiving. Shouldn’t you three, she motioned to Mary Beth, Irish and I, be home with your families?"

"What about you?" I countered.

"Not to worry, Uncle Gus will be coming down here a little later to celebrate Thanksgiving with the children. He’s bringing a Piñata and ice cream." She gasped, then hurried on. "That’s all right isn’t it? I mean…" I stopped her with a raised hand.

"That is absolutely fine. Don’t worry. And you’re right, I need to get home, but I just wanted to check on the kids, and as always they are in excellent hands. Thank you Liz."

"No, thank you Mac," she motioned to the children, "from all of us."

I mumbled something about just doing my job, and made a quick exit. I met Irish in the doorway, and couldn’t resist the urge to harass my friend and colleague.

"Ya know, you’re one big, well not so big any more, softy. You’re turning into nothing but a gooey, sweet mushball." I kissed her quickly on the cheek and ran like hell.

"Yadda, yadda, yadda. If I’m a mushball, what are you?" Irish mumbled to herself. A really big pain in the ass? Yeah. Wait who the hell are you? Oh no one in particular, just an old friend of Stacey’s. Ya don’t say. Yep, that’s me.

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

I arrived home much later than I had planned, and the house was relatively dark. The light was on in the entryway, a sweet little thing my angel did for me so I wouldn’t fall flat on my face, in the dark, and awaken the entire household. Besides the injury from the fall, the dogs nearly had me for lunch the last time I stumbled noisily into the house after dark. I traversed my way through various rooms until I made it to the kitchen; there I was caught with my butt hanging out of the fridge. I felt warm hands caressing my tight buns, and couldn’t stop the moan, which escaped, from my throat.

"I should call the police and tell them I have caught a prowler stealing food from my refrigerator." In my present position, I was in no condition to argue the fine points of breaking and entering. Besides the warm hands had began to explore other areas of my anatomy.

"Um," I ventured, "perhaps we could come to some sort of compromise. I don’t think calling in the authorities is really necessary, do you."

I straightened up and turned around to face my wife. I drew her face down to mine and captured her lips with mine and began a long, drawn out sensuous kiss. The kiss was everything I loved: tongues entangled, lips sucked lips, teeth nipped tender flesh. We broke the kiss only for the sake of breathing.

"So what do you think? S’pose we can work something out?" The answer to my question was to be swept up in my lover’s arms and carried to our bedroom.

"I’m going to make love to you all night long," my angel whispered, "I’m going to make you scream my name at the height of passion. I’m going to kiss you intimately; I’m going to taste you, touch you with my mouth and tongue. I’m going to thrust my fingers deep inside you until I feel your cunt contract around my fingers and you spill your cum on my fingers. Then I’ll lick and suck your beautiful pussy dry of your juices. Tell me baby, is that what you want?"

All the while my lustful wife was telling me everything she was going to do to me, her hands were busily divesting me of my clothes until we were both naked, lying together skin on skin. The sensual feeling of our bodies rubbing together only elevated my already heightened state of arousal. My hands weren’t idle either, and I drew her hips to where I wanted her most with my hands on her firm tight ass. I began to guide her sopping center over mine with strong, firm thrusts. Finally I could stand it no longer, and I took one hand and plunged my fingers up, deep into my angel’s hot, seething womanhood. I loved to watch her ride my fingers. Her head was thrown back, her lips open slightly, her raven tresses tossed wildly about her shoulders. She was the picture of a truly wild, untamed, beautiful beast. Her hands cupped her breasts pinching and twisting her turgid nipples with her fingers. She was so close, I knew her orgasm was about to overtake her, as was mine.

"Oh Stacey, darling, I love you. Feels so good. Baby I’m cumming, can’t…hold…it…aaahhh yes. So good." I followed closely behind my lover, my climax taking hold of me thrusting me into the world of pure bliss. Becca collapsed onto my chest, and I pulled the comforter up over out sweaty, cooling bodies.

"I love you my heart, Happy Thanksgiving."

"I love you my soul, and Happy Thanksgiving. I missed you earlier."

"I know babe, I’m sorry, but I had a good reason." I smoothed unruly raven tresses from my lover’s face. "Do you remember Cameron McMurray, the little boy whose sister was murdered by her stepfather, the one who wouldn’t talk?" I felt my angel’s head nod against my chest. "Well he spoke today. He saw me holding Skeeter, and he called him by name. Then I asked if he would like to hold him. He even let me hold him, and he hasn’t let anyone hardly touch him for months." A lone tear tracked down my cheek at the next part of the story. "He remembered what happened, what he saw. He asked me why his daddy hurt his sissy, and I didn’t have an answer for him. Why? Dammit why?" My angel turned over onto her back and pulled me with her encasing me in her strong comforting arms. She stroked my hair and wiped away the tears with her lips.

"Oh baby, I wish I could answer that question too, but I can’t. All I can do, all any of us can do is stay strong for those who need us, and pray someday all this violence and pain will end. I thank God everyday for you; ya know that don’t you. It’s people like you who will end this madness. I love you so very much."

"I love you to babe, and it’s your love and faith in me that keeps me going, thank you."

"Think nothing of it, it’s what I do."

Morpheus came into our room and took us in his arms and carried us to his world of sweet dreams where we stayed for the rest of the night.

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

Friday morning found the Thanksgiving celebrants at the breakfast table devouring mushroom and cheese omelets, with hash browns, fruit, juice and coffee. The doorbell sounded interrupting our meal. I looked up at the clock on the wall: 8:30am. That’s par for the course around here even during vacation time.

"Wonder who that is, it’s kinda early for vistors," Harley ventured. Syd jumped up and headed for the door.

"Ya get used to it around here Harley," I laughed. "I’m thinking of having a revolving door installed."

"Oh it’s probably Ange. I told her to come over this morning and we’d go for a run on the beach." Syd’s voice called to me; I detected a note of concern in her tone.

"Mother, mom you better come here." All of us rushed to the front door in a heartbeat.

There at the door was a middle-aged couple, probably a few years younger than Harley and Angie. The man was of average height, the woman petite and slightly frail. The man’s style of dress indicated he worked on a ranch or farm; he removed a Stetson from his head when we arrived at the door. The woman’s once blonde hair was streaked with gray, and I found myself staring into the same soft, brown doe-eyes my daughter owned.

"I beg your pardon for disturbing you this early," the woman said, "but we have been searching for the McGregor home. I’m afraid we’ve gotten turned around." Instinctively, I positioned myself between the older couple and my wife and daughter. Harley took a step forward as well making sure the other man was aware of his hulking presence. For God sakes, these are two old people; you’re getting paranoid. Butt out, Ma Barker was old too.

"This is the place," I said bluntly, "I’m Dr. Stacey McGregor. What can I do for you?" The man moved up next to his wife and spoke for the first time.

"We’d like to talk to you for a bit, if you don’t mind. This is my wife Ida and I’m Bill Stafford. We come looking for our granddaughter."

Ain’t I nasty? This is the end of ‘Thanksgiving’. Be sure to stay tuned for the next installment of the ‘Lost and Found Series’, ‘Reunion’. Let me know what you think.