Chapter Fifteen

Lindsay sighed in relief as they pulled into the parking lot at the Sheriff's Department. "Good, only Dolan's car is here. We'd never get anything out of Webster except a parking ticket."

A snort signaled Jaye's agreement, as she exited the Jeep. "I can't believe this town keeps electing him."

"Habit...inertia. Actually I don't think anyone else ever wanted the job. Dolan only started with the department two years ago after he quit fishing with his dad, but I think once he gets a little more experience, Bill is going to have a fight on his hands to stay in office."

Pulling open the office door and gesturing for Lindsay to precede her, Jaye commented cryptically, "Can't happen soon enough."

Lindsay grinned in agreement, pleased when her companion's frown morphed into an answering smile. Realizing her intent to maintain a safe distance had faltered, however momentarily, she renewed her resolution to stay strictly businesslike, and quietly led Jaye through the waiting room toward the sheriff's office.

Dolan spotted the two women coming down the hall and rose from his seat behind the desk. Crossing the office, he wrapped his arms around Lindsay in an exultant hug.

"I knew they had the wrong person." Smiling widely, he released her. "You should've seen Bill's face when he told me to go haul in Derek and Mary. Like he'd bitten into a lemon."

Jaye interrupted the celebration. "Did he arrest them?"

Dolan shook his head and perched on the corner of his desk. "Nope. Told 'em not to leave town, though. Bill said he couldn't arrest them on Stu's testimony alone, and he's got a good point. We're gonna need more than the word of a cuckolded husband."

Raising one eyebrow, Lindsay looked at Dolan pointedly. "He didn't have any trouble arresting me on circumstantial evidence."

Having the grace to look chagrined, the deputy rubbed his gingery crew cut. "I know, and I do apologize for that, but you know how he is. He's afraid to make any wrong moves because Mary is a councilwoman and Derek has money and influence behind him. I sat in when they were questioned, and they both said Stu was lying and must have found out about their affair. It was pretty funny when Bill told 'em it wasn't exactly a secret around town."

Jaye snorted wryly. "Mary wasn't exactly subtle about it. She knew damn well it wasn't any secret. Hell, she was flaunting her latest conquest in our faces."

"Yeah, that sounds like Mary all right," Dolan agreed. "So what brings you both here? Not that I'm not glad to see you," he amended hastily.

Lindsay's face became pensive. "Could we see Delia's personal effects? Everything that was confiscated for evidence?" When Dolan started to object, Lindsay asked pleadingly, "Then just her purse? Jaye never got to say goodbye, and I thought it might help if she could just touch the last things Dee touched."

Shifting uncomfortably on the desk, Dolan rubbed his jaw speculatively. "You know I really ain't supposed to let no one touch the evidence."

Two sets of wistful eyes met his gaze, as Jaye promised solemnly, "We won't take anything, I swear. I just want to see her things."

Dolan sighed audibly. "Oh, all right. But don't take too long. I want you both long gone before Bill gets back."

"Don't worry. We'll be quick." Lindsay smiled and added, "Thanks, Dolan."

Grabbing the keys from the desk drawer, the deputy shrugged. "Aw, you're welcome. Lost my grandma last year and I'da given anything just to touch her and talk to her one more time, so I know how you feel."

The three walked into the evidence room, and Dolan went to a shelf marked with the case number assigned to Delia's murder. He removed the purse, visible in the clear plastic bag in which it was sealed, then carefully recorded his initials next to each item that had been catalogued when the purse was admitted as evidence. Carrying the entire bag over to a desk, he set it down gently in front of the women.

Dolan gestured to the box of surgical gloves on the table. "Make sure you put those on before you touch anything. When you're done, just pick up that phone and dial one. I'll come back and check it in."

Lindsay blanched as she stared at the red stained envelope that Jaye extracted from the purse. She'd forgotten the letter had fallen from Delia's purse in the library, and her mind began playing a cinemascope of gruesome pictures: Delia sprawled on the floor…the blood pooled under her head contrasting with the unnatural white complexion of her face. So still, unmoving. Like an observer in a gory horror show, Lindsay saw herself fall to her knees next to Delia, scream for help and begin CPR. Blood...So much blood. Blood everywhere. Dee just needs a doctor. She'll be okay. She has to be okay. She can't die...

Tears began running down her face, yet her vision remained inward, glued to the montage of horrific images in her mind, totally oblivious to her surroundings.

"Lindsay?" Jaye raised her voice slightly. "Hey, Lindsay?" She walked around her companion until she was facing her, then laid a hand on the other woman's shoulder, her relief apparent when Lindsay raised wet eyes to meet her concerned gaze.

"I'm sorry. I just… The blood. The memory…it's still so vivid."

Jaye instinctively pulled Lindsay close, hugging her and murmuring, "I'm sorry. I should've come alone." Suddenly stiffening, she patted Lindsay's back awkwardly, and then released her. "How about if you go wait in Dolan's office. I'll tell you what the letter says."

Lindsay shook her head, grateful for the offer, but needing to see the letter too.


My darling Delia,

I've missed you so much, and the longing to be with you is a constant ache in my heart. Last night I broke the news of our planned reunion to Gareth, and we had a terrible row about it. I had really hoped it would go better, but he is so deathly afraid of a scandal that he can't see beyond his fear. Sometimes I wonder if he's too ambitious for his own good. I blame his grandmother for that. You remember how she pushed and pushed Four to be who she wanted him to be? When she couldn't force him into the mold she'd envisioned, she turned her ambitions to her grandson...my son. Gareth is so like his father in many ways. I had hoped to moderate his and Mother's influence over the years, but I supposed I was predestined to lose the battle for my boy's heart and mind.

I'm still reeling over my own son's accusations that I would deliberately undermine his political career. I've always supported him no matter what he chose to do. Would you believe he had the audacity to inform me that I owed him the respectability of being a normal mother? You'd think I planned to dye my hair in rainbow shades and march half-naked in a Pride parade rather than simply moving quietly to a small town to live out my life with an old friend. It's not like anyone need know the nature of our relationship, and I certainly don't see how my happiness threatens his future aspirations.

My poor boy knows so little about love, Dee. Perhaps that's why his own marriage ended after such a brief period, despite his best efforts to save it. I can't help wondering if it's all my fault, for I never loved his father, nor did he love me, though we managed an amicable co-existence over the years. Perhaps lacking the example of profound, passionate love, Gareth missing learning a vital lesson. But oh, my darling, the lessons he could've learned from us, for I never, ever stopped loving you. It would have been my most cherished dream to have made a life with you and grown old together. It's so ironic. Had we raised my son, he would've been an entirely different man-a joyful, loving, generous man. Yet there is no point or value in dwelling on possibilities past, is there, love? It is enough that I have found you again, and my son must now forge his own path in life.

I only wish that Gareth would be more accepting. I don't want another confrontation like last night. He ranted and raved for over an hour, bombarding me with the most outrageous accusations to try and make me feel guilty about my feelings for you. When I explained to him that I was completely and irrevocably committed to renewing our relationship, he stormed out of the house and hasn't been back since. I knew he would be upset, but I didn't expect such an extreme reaction.

I love my son, dearest Dee, and I want to give him a little more time to get used to the idea of us together. I ask for your understanding that we proceed slowly. You've waited so patiently for me for so many years, beloved, that I hate to ask you to wait just a little longer. I was afraid before, for so many reasons, and I did us both an injustice. No one will ever stand in our way again.

Gareth just returned and I suspect it will not be a pleasant evening, but I will weather it because any anguish is worth knowing that we'll soon be permanently reunited. I do so long for that day. The weekends we have shared this summer have been wonderful, but I want so much more. Soon, darling, we will be waking together every morning, sharing the sunrise and toasting the sunset with your atrocious black rum. I only tease you a little, my sweet woman. We have so much time to make up for that when I am so blessed to return to your house-to our home, I shall never again be away from your side for a single moment. Just remembering the feel of your arms around me and the magic of your touch gives me the strength to do what I must.

I leave you with the poet's promise - Look for me by moonlight, watch for me by moonlight, I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.

My dearest love, you carry my heart in your hands. I love you today, yesterday, and forever,

Patricia

"That rotten, lousy, no good sonofabitch! What a fucker!"

Lindsay snickered. Despite Jaye's obvious forthrightness, she hadn't expected the emphatic, albeit off-color, explosion.

"Well, he is!"

Nodded vigorously, the redhead agreed. "You won't get any argument from me!"

Jaye folded up the paper, put the envelope back in the evidence bag and began shoving the letter into her pocket. Lindsay laid a hand on her arm. "What are you doing? We can't take that. Dolan will get in trouble."

"If I leave this here, anyone could see it."

Resigned eyes met Jaye's sheepish gaze evenly. "Do you really think Delia would care?"

Jaye glanced at the papers, and then ruefully looked away, unable to meet Lindsay's eyes squarely. "Well, she might…"

Soft laughter, audible only to one of the room's inhabitants tinkled across the room. What's the matter, J-mac? Afraid someone might think it's hereditary?

"NO!"

Lindsay stopped pulling off her gloves and looked at Jaye, startled. "No, what? What's wrong?"

Her face crimson, Jaye muttered, "Nothing." She reluctantly returned the letter to the envelope and replaced everything in the evidence bag, as Lindsay called Dolan. Once the deputy arrived, Jaye stalked out of the room followed by her bewildered companion.


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


Once behind the wheel, Jaye began a silent diatribe directed at Delia, hoping her aunt could hear her thoughts. What are you trying to do? Lindsay's going to think I'm crazy or something. I wish you wouldn't pop in like that. At least let me see you first.

Delia appeared next to her window, moving evenly with the car. "Sorry dear, but I couldn't resist. My body didn't have time to catch up with my mouth." Shrewdly, she added, "Besides what do you care what Lindsay thinks? You'll be out of here at the first opportunity."

Jaye opened her mouth to protest, but thought better of it. She did intend to leave once they got to the bottom of things. What she didn't understand was why she wasn't particularly looking forward to it.

Lindsay was watching Jaye curiously. "We should let Patricia know that Delia's dead."

"I know. Boston's only four hours from here. Do you want to head down there today, or wait until tomorrow?"

The redhead considered for a moment, then said thoughtfully, "Why don't we go today? If we're lucky, we'll be able to talk to Gareth, too. It's hard to believe that the woman in those letters could bear such a son, but speaking from personal experience, that man's ego could drive him to just about anything. I hate to say it, but I have a bad feeling that he has far more motive than Mary and Derek for wanting Delia dead."

"Yeah, I think you're right on the money," Jaye agreed, taking the turn that would lead to the interstate. "Besides, even if we don't get to see the son, it's only right that Delia's kin should break the news to the love of her life. You know, as terrific as she was, I always wondered why she never hooked up with anyone. I used to ask her, and she'd always joke that she had to stay single because it was a fulltime job keeping an eye on me; but I knew there was more to it than that."

Lindsay had reached into her purse and pulled out the return address she had copied down before leaving the evidence room, but she stopped to consider her companion's words. "One night when we had had a couple more black rums than we probably should've, we compared romantic histories. I mean she never told me about Patricia, except to intimate that there had been someone special to her in her youth, but she did say that she had had two or three encounters over the years."

Perking up with interest, Jaye glanced quickly out the side window, relieved to note that her aunt's ghost had departed. "Really? Did she say who or where?"

"Mmm, not really. I got the impression that they had been romantic interludes while she was vacationing abroad, but she never went into detail. Just said that nothing could ever compare to the real thing, and left it at that." Lindsay had a soft smile on her face, and Jaye wondered if she was remembering a "real thing" of her own. "Anyway, I could rarely even get her out of Tucker's Way, so I guess her traveling days were long over. I tried to talk into a weekend in Boston last year to do some Christmas shopping and see some shows, but she flat out refused. She'd have me take her to Bangor now and then to see old friends, but that was about it. I guess she'd traveled enough in her youth that she didn't feel like it any more."

Jaye shook her head. "No, it was just Boston itself. You couldn't get Auntie Dee to set foot in that town for some reason. I loved the Red Sox when I was a kid, and she was great about letting me go to the games with Dolan and his dad, but she'd never come along, no matter how much I begged. Strange too, because she took me lots of other places. Heck, she even once took me to New York City, though she said there were as many rats of the human kind there as the four-legged variety. Said it was important for me to understand both sides of my heritage. I still have the souvenirs from that trip somewhere. Even when we went to see Grandpa Ben and Grandma Grace, we always went to Lake Sivert, never their Boston home."

"We went to Lake Sivert last fall. What a beautiful place! It's amazing how well it's resisted being overdeveloped all this time," Lindsay exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Well, it helps to have most of the lakeside property concentrated in few hands. Mind you, Great-Uncle Hannibal's son, Charles, couldn't sell off his father's land fast enough once he passed away, but at least the developers that bought it didn't trash the area too badly." She cocked her head, smiling in remembrance. "He was such a sweetie-Hannibal, I mean. He wasn't my real great-uncle, but he always liked it when I called him that. He always had a treat for me in his pocket when Auntie Dee would take me over there, too. To this day I associate the taste of Lemon Heads with the scent of horses."

"Mmm, I never got to meet him, but Dee and I did have the misfortune of running into Charles when we were there." Lindsay grimaced, pursing her lips as if at a bad taste. "Honestly, next to Gareth Edwards, Jr., Charles was the most obnoxious man I've ever had the displeasure of meeting; and he and Dee literally bristled at the sight of each other. I thought I was going to have to physically pull them apart."

Jaye chuckled. "I know what you mean. We'd occasionally run into him in passing at the lake, and it was like two bulldogs circling each other. Auntie Dee always said that he was a prime example of the old maxim that you get the face you deserve as you age because he was such an ugly old bugger."

"That sounds like Dee, all right." Lindsay laughed and shook her head.

"Should've seen her when Charles sold his father's land to the developers. She was madder than a wet hen! Mind you, she said he probably needed the money to pay alimony to all six of his ex-wives." Jaye noted with pleasure how easy it was to talk to her companion, and how the miles were flying by as they chatted amiably.

"I'm amazed he managed to marry even once. Can't imagine who would put up with him," Lindsay commented. Then glancing at Jaye, she postulated, "I guess your grandparents' summerhouse at the lake will pass to you now."

"S'pose so. I'm the only living heir in the direct Barrington line, though Grandpa Ben left some of the property for a bird sanctuary once he and Grandma passed on." Jaye hadn't thought much about her inheritance, but as she reflected on all the great times she had enjoyed at the lake with her grandparents and aunt, she was glad that one day she would be able to take her own children there. She smiled ruefully. Of course, given how good I am at picking men, the chance of children is growing more remote by the day.

Turning her thoughts from the hapless Ronald, Jaye glanced over at her companion, smiling before returning her eyes to the road. There was something about the redhead that she was finding increasingly appealing. Or more like a lot of somethings. Lindsay was genuinely warm and outgoing, but beneath her sunny demeanor, there was a sharp mind that missed little.

"Did your parents take you to the lake much?"

Jaye drew her mind away from her companion's charms and back to the conversation. "No, I don't remember ever going there with them, but then I barely remember my mother. I was only three when she came down with cancer, and she passed away just before my sixth birthday."

Lindsay gazed at her sympathetically, but Jaye just shrugged. "In all honesty, about the only thing I remember from those years is that Auntie Dee was more of a mother to me than Mom was able to be. She came up from Tucker's Way a lot to look after Mom and me, and that was really when I bonded with her. The morning I got up, went downstairs and found Dad and Auntie Dee crying, I knew Mom was gone, even as young as I was; but I was more upset when Auntie Dee left a few weeks after the funeral."

"Did you and your father get on all right with her gone?"

"Most of the time." Jaye couldn't help a wry grin as she remembered her father's efforts to be both mother and father to her. "He learned quickly, and he really was a good father. Mind you, I lived for the summers when I got to go to Maine, because Auntie Dee was a lot more fun."

"Oh yeah, I can easily see that," Lindsay agreed. "I had a wonderful time with her, and I saw how the town's children adored her. You know, it's a shame she never had any of her own, because she'd have been a fabulous mother."

"She was," Jaye said simply; and both women fell silent, remembering and honoring the woman whose life and death had set them on their current path.
Then something occurred to the Canadian.

"Lindsay, did you say you took Auntie Dee to Bangor to see old friends?"

The redhead glanced at her curiously. "Yes. Why, is that significant?"

"Only in that I never knew her to know anyone in Bangor." With growing excitement, Jaye sat up straighter. "Patricia's letter mentioned something about the weekends they'd shared together this summer. You don't suppose the "old friend" she was meeting in Bangor was Patricia, do you?"

A smile grew on Lindsay's face as she considered the possibility. "You know, it very well might have been. I never saw whomever she was staying with. She would just have me drop her off at an apartment, and tell me to enjoy my weekend off. She always paid for my room in a fancy hotel, and I'd just enjoy getting into the city for a while. Monday morning I'd pick her up and we'd come back to Tucker's Way."

"When did these visits to Bangor start," Jaye asked eagerly.

Lindsay looked at her delightedly. "It was after Patricia and Gareth dropped by that time. I remember because I'd taken a weekend to go out to a cousin's wedding in Oregon a few weeks after that visit, and I was worried about leaving Dee alone. She scoffed and said that she wasn't an invalid and she'd be fine, but I called her a couple of times while I was out there to check on her anyway. She didn't say much except that she was doing well, but she sounded really distracted and I got the impression that she had company. She was really close-mouthed about her weekend when I got home, but it was shortly after that we started making regular trips to Bangor."

"Auntie Dee, you old devil," Jaye said in amusement, hearing the echo of a smug chuckle in her ear.

Lindsay laughed approvingly. "Oh, I'm so glad that they had some time together at least. They deserved it."

Sobering, Jaye nodded. "They deserved to spend the rest of their lives together." Their eyes met in melancholy comprehension as the message they were carrying to Patricia sank in. "God, this really sucks!"

"Yes, it does," Lindsay agreed sadly. "They waited almost their whole lives and all they got out of it was half a dozen weekend trysts. It's just not fair."

The women fell silent then as they mulled over the injustice of it all, and as the miles passed, Jaye's thoughts strayed back to the evidence room. She carefully examined what she'd refused to think about then - how good it felt when Lindsay's body was pressed against her own. She had quickly relinquished the embrace because her physical reaction to the contact had startled her, and she had been shying away from revisiting the moment ever since.

Before she could pursue that disconcerting train of thought, Jaye was pulled from her reverie by the sound of Lindsay's voice.

"Are you okay? You got pretty quiet on me there."

With forced negligence, Jaye shrugged. "I'm fine. Just thinking about this and that, mostly what we're going to say to Patricia. How about you? Are you doing okay? It's been a helluva few days for you."

Lindsay smiled shyly, obviously pleased at the consideration. "I'm better. Thank you for asking."

Returning the smile warmly, Jaye switched on the radio. Determined to banish her troubling thoughts, she began singing along with the tune on the radio. Lindsay quickly joined in, and their harmonies made the journey swift as they headed for Boston.

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

Pulling into the driveway of a massive stone house, complete with faux Southern white pillars, a wrap-around porch, and a widow's walk, Lindsay noted the extensive grounds bordered with well-groomed, evenly shorn hedges and dotted with maple trees well on their way to losing their summer foliage. A detached three-car garage matching the design of the house could be seen further down the brick driveway, which looped in a graceful curve around the side of the mansion.

Getting out of the car, the redhead gave a low whistle, impressed in spite of herself. "This is some place!"

Jaye rounded the car to follow Lindsay up the walk. "No kidding. There's definitely money in this family, but it's far too formal looking for me. I like my aunt's place much better."

"So do I," Lindsay agreed. "Though to be fair, Dee's home was such an extension of her personality that it just couldn't help being a warm, cheerful, welcoming place." Mounting the stairs ahead of her friend, she reached the landing first and pressed the doorbell.

An aristocratic, slender, mature woman wearing an open-necked white silk blouse and dark blue pants answered the door almost immediately. Her shoulder length hair was an attractive mix of blonde and silver. She was still a beautiful woman with fine boned facial features and large, friendly hazel eyes. She smiled at Lindsay, then as her gaze took in the redhead's companion, her expression turned to shock.

"Oh, good heavens!" The older woman stared at Jaye in amazement. "Dee...no, of course, you must be Jaye. My Lord, you're the spitting image of your aunt. Please, won't you come in?" She looked past the younger women, as if looking for someone else. "Is Dee with you?"

The two younger women glanced at each other as they accepted the older woman's invitation to enter. Lindsay, feeling sickened at the news they had to impart, suggested quietly, "Why don't we sit down somewhere? We need to talk to you."

Fear flashed across the woman's face and she reached out a trembling hand. "It's bad news, isn't it? Is she sick? Where is she? I can be packed in five minutes if you'll just take me to her. Please, I need to be with her!"

Hating what they had to do next, Lindsay laid a comforting hand on Patricia's arm and steered her toward the couch visible in the adjoining room. "Let's sit down, Mrs. Edwards."

The older woman's face was deathly pale, but she offered no resistance as Lindsay urged her to a seat beside her on the sofa. Glancing over to where Jaye had settled into a chair opposite them, she secured a slight nod of approval to proceed. Knowing there was really no way to ease into it, the redhead simply said, "I'm terribly sorry to have to tell you this, but Delia was killed last Thursday."

The older woman's face lost what little color remained, and she shook visibly. "No! Please...please tell me this is some kind of sick joke. She can't be dead. Not now. Not when we were so close," she implored.

Filled with compassion for the stricken woman, Lindsay reached for one of Patricia's hands and patted it gently. "I'm so sorry. We didn't know, or we'd have come sooner. We just found your letters today." She looked over helplessly at Jaye, who had been watching the scene with quiet intensity.
Heavy tears were tracking down Patricia's face. Recognizing Lindsay's unspoken plea, Jaye retrieved a nearby box of tissues and carried it over to the heartbroken woman, who was now wracked by deep sobs.

Curled in on herself with agony, Patricia mourned. "Why? Oh, sweet God, why now? I never even got to say goodbye. All this wasted time, and I wasn't even there for her at the end. I never got to tell her one last time how much I always loved her."

Kneeling in front of Patricia, Jaye offered the tissues and said softly, "She loved you, too, you know." Startled at the unqualified acceptance, Lindsay glanced across the older woman. The Canadian gave her a slightly abashed look, then rose and returned to her chair. Setting aside her surprise, the redhead concentrated on comforting and calming their hostess. It would be a long time before Patricia's tears eased, as the two younger women quietly lent their support.

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

Jaye had no idea how long they had been sitting there, the only sound in the room Patricia's sobs and Lindsay's soft murmurs. Wanting to be of assistance, but instinctively aware that the redhead was much better at this than she could be, the Canadian had been staring at her shoes for what seemed like an eternity. Finally lifting her eyes, she was startled by the shimmering figure of her aunt next to the grieving older woman. Delia was looking at Patricia, her features soft with love and her eyes overflowing with boundless devotion, apparent even from across the room.

Overwhelmed by the intense emotion emanating from her aunt's spirit, the empathy Jaye had held at arm's length since learning of Delia's long-ago lover began to burgeon, flooding her with awareness. These two women had shared a very special love for one another. How could that be wrong? She remembered expressing her contempt when one of her friends had talked about finding her soul mate, dismissing it as sentimental claptrap.

She had been wrong. Her disdain and cynicism had grown out of a personal history devoid of meaningful relationships and replete with casual encounters with superficial men. Jaye felt the burdensome yoke of bigotry she'd unwittingly absorbed from her father slip away in the face of the unearthly scene unfolding in front of her. This wasn't wrong. One thing she'd heard was true. Love truly was blind. Love came from the heart, without regard to the physical manifestation of the human being. Love was love, and knew no boundaries.

She could see her aunt speaking softly in Patricia's ear and wondered if the distraught woman could hear Delia, even as she felt like an interloper on a scene of profound intimacy. Jaye wistfully wondered what it would feel like to have someone look at her that way and whisper sweet words into her ears.

Patricia's tears began to slow and she stood up, Delia's ghostly form joining her. Wiping her red, puffy eyes, she murmured apologetically, "Excuse me just a minute."

Sadly the younger women watched her leave the room. Her own eyes brimming, Lindsay said, "That had to be one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. It almost felt like Dee was dying all over again. I wish there were something...anything, that I could say to make her feel better."

Knowing that the only one who could make her feel better was already at her side, even if Patricia couldn't see her, Jaye just shook her head. "There's not much we can say. It's just going to take time-lots of time."

"Do you still think it's wrong?"

Though it wasn't a challenge and her voice was mild, Jaye felt Lindsay watching her so intently that it seemed as if she were trying to peer inside the other woman's soul. The Canadian met those piercing eyes squarely.

"No, I don't."

She was inordinately pleased to see the delight that her answer put in her friend's eyes, and in the midst of the unbearably difficult thing they had come to do, she felt a measure of peace.

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

Patricia returned a short time later carrying a tray with a teapot, three cups and a small key. After pouring them each a cup of tea, she walked over to a bookcase and unlocked a large, lower drawer. Rummaging through a multitude of photo albums within, she selected one and carried it back to the couch. Face drawn with grief, she laid a hand on the book and managed a tremulous smile.

"Your aunt and mother and I grew up together, and when Dee and I finally acknowledged our feelings for each other, it was like my eyes opened for the first time and I could see all the beauty that my camera had been capturing all along. Delia used to tease me all the time about taking an endless number of pictures, but I'm very glad I did. In the years that followed, it helped to have these to look back at...to remember a time when we were both so young and so full of love and life. I know that even today many people simply can't understand, but she was the only one in the world for me, and I know she felt the same."

Lindsay saw Patricia study their faces as she spoke, and she wondered if the older woman was searching for any signs of condemnation. She felt an urge to assure their hostess that there was no reason for concern, but from the woman's half-smile decided that she must have seen their understanding for herself. Leaning forward, the redhead made her request.

"Won't you show us, please? We'd love to see all the old photos. It'll be almost like having a good visit with Dee." From the corner of her eye she caught Jaye's vigorous nod of agreement.

Patricia gave them a full smile, then cocked her head as if struck by a sudden realization. "She never changed, did she? She was just as special to you two as she was to Andi and me all those years ago."

"Was she ever," Lindsay declared fervently. When Jaye didn't say anything, she glanced over, only to see blue eyes filling with tears. She and Patricia shared a look of understanding, before the redhead went over to her companion and gave her a quick hug. She got a grateful, if somewhat teary smile in response.

Patting the sofa beside her, Patricia invited them both to come sit with her. When they did so, she opened the album, tracing her finger gently over the old black and white photos on the first page. There, caught for all time, laughing little girls still played at the edge of a lake.

Staring at the pictures, the older woman murmured, "We rarely returned to Lake Sivert after I was married. My husband had a great dislike of the place, so we began going to Martha's Vineyard instead." Her smile sad and wistful, she turned the page, inviting them to travel back in time through her memories.

The hours passed quickly, as Patricia delighted her guests with tales of days gone by. With each story the older woman told, she seemed to let go of a tiny piece of her sorrow, her lightly lined face becoming radiant as she recalled the halcyon days of their youthful love. She barely touched on her decision to bow to her parents' wishes and marry Gareth Edwards, Sr., and unwilling to exacerbate her grief the younger women didn't question her further; but it was clear to her visitors that her love for Delia had never faltered, not even four decades after they were torn apart.

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

The three women looked up on hearing a car pull into the driveway, and Patricia hurriedly closed the album, scrambling to gather those photos scattered about during the long afternoon and relocking the drawer only seconds before her son walked into the living room.

Gareth stopped and stared at them in surprise. "Mother? Who's your company?"

Lindsay regarded the rugged, expensively clad man now standing in the entranceway. She noted that her initial impression still rang true. He had barely glanced at the two younger women, but apparently deciding that they were of no import, he did nothing to conceal the arrogance on his handsome face. Even his body language conveyed his imperial sense of entitlement, and the redhead couldn't help wondering wryly if he required the unexpected visitors to curtsey.

Just short of six feet, Gareth nonetheless had a formidable presence, and he was obviously accustomed to making an impact on people. When his mother frowned at his initial rudeness, he immediately turned on an artificially bright smile, which faltered when he finally met Lindsay's eyes. Had she not been watching him so intently, the redhead knew she would've missed the shock that flashed through his eyes and the brief hesitation in his stride.

Mollified by her son's smile and apparently unaware of the by-play, Patricia made introductions. "Gareth, dear, you remember Lindsay, don't you? She was Delia's assistant." When her son nodded curtly, she continued, "And this is Jaye, Delia's niece."

Chameleon-like, Gareth's attitude shifted swiftly; and he greeted each woman warmly, shaking their hands and giving them a charming smile, before coming to his mother and kissing her lightly on the cheek. Drawing him down beside her on the couch opposite to Lindsay, Patricia drew in a deep breath and quietly gave him the news.

"Darling, they came to tell me that Delia was murdered last week. Some suspects have been questioned, but as yet, no charges have been filed."

Instantly Gareth gathered his mother up in a hug, rubbing her back gently as she settled her head on his shoulder. His voice low and sympathetic, he murmured, "Oh, Mother, I'm so very sorry. I know she was an old and dear friend."

Lindsay had to bite her tongue. She could see the man's eyes above his mother's head and there was no warmth or sincerity in them, even as he mouthed the appropriate words. His apparent indifference to the news vaulted him to the top of the redhead's suspect list, and she wondered again how a woman as genuine and warm as Patricia had produced a son ostensibly devoid of even ordinary compassion.

She glanced at Jaye, noting the Canadian's quickly concealed frown. She had no doubt that when they compared notes, they would be in accordance regarding Patricia's son.

His arms now more loosely around his mother, Gareth spoke over his shoulder to the visitors, his voice stern and protective. "I think it would be best if you left now. My mother's suffered a terrible shock, and she needs to rest."

Patricia pulled back, shaking her head. "No, son. It's over four hours to Tucker's Way and much too late for them to leave now." She turned her attention to Jaye and Lindsay. "Please stay here tonight as my guests."

The entreaty in her eyes was clearly visible to both women, and Jaye answered for both of them. "If you're sure we'd be no bother, then we would appreciate it. Thank you."

Scowling, Gareth snapped at the unwanted visitors. "For God's sake, I would think you'd have the decency to see that my mother is in no condition to entertain visitors, and just go."

It was Patricia's turn to glare at her son. "Gareth! I'll have you remember that this is my house, and they are welcome guests in it." She turned to the younger women apologetically. "Please, don't listen to him. He's just being his usual overprotective self."

Lindsay glanced from Gareth's tightly clenched fists to his rigid features, watching as he visibly forced himself to relax back into the plush sofa cushions. Yet when he spoke again, his tone was calm and accepting, and the redhead marveled at the amazing dissonance between his voice and the anger still apparent in his eyes. Patting his mother's hands, he murmured, "Of course, Mother. You're right, of course. You know I was only worried about you, as always. Please, all of you, forgive my rudeness and allow me to offer my deepest condolences. I'm sure Miss Barrington was an exceptional woman and you must miss her terribly."

Unsure that she would be able to stomach much more of the man's patented sympathies, Lindsay groaned inwardly at the thought of an evening spent in his unctuous company. Stealing a sidelong glance at her companion, she noticed that Jaye looked as if she had just bitten into something bitter. Aware that they mustn't alienate either mother or son if they were to elicit the information they needed, she simply nodded her acceptance of Gareth's apologies and was pleased to see the less subtle Canadian follow suit.

Patricia offered her son a forgiving smile, then turned to her guests. "Luckily I've had ribs slow-cooking since this morning. They're Gareth's favorites, and there's more than enough for all of us. If you'll excuse me, I'll go finish the preparations and we'll eat shortly."

Lindsay rose to her feet, offering to help out. Patricia accepted graciously and the women adjourned to the kitchen, leaving Jaye and Gareth together in the living room. The redhead smirked inwardly, hoping her occasionally abrasive friend could avoid coming to blows with their chief suspect. She was amused when Jaye sidled into the kitchen ten minutes later with a pleading look in her eyes. Taking pity on her, Lindsay handed her a paring knife and allowed her to join in on peeling potatoes. In a muttered aside she asked, "Did you leave him in one piece?"

With a quick glance to where Patricia was checking the ribs, Jaye replied sotto voce, "Just barely. Five more minutes, and I wouldn't have been responsible for my actions."

Lindsay choked back a laugh, glad that her friend had exercised her small reserve of tact. The diplomatic skills of both women were tried throughout dinner as Gareth monopolized the conversation and managed in the same breath to extol his own ambitions, while proclaiming with transparent pretension that he was simply answering his country's call for leadership.

Patricia, obviously long versed in listening to her son with half an ear, appeared unaffected by his braggadocio, but once dinner was finished and they had lingered over coffee for a while, she dismissed him with gentle firmness, telling him it was time for him to go home. When he protested, she simply took him by the arm and with unexpected resoluteness ushered him to the door, hugging him affectionately before bidding him a fond goodnight.

Turning to her bemused guests, she smiled. "Now, where were we?"

When Lindsay attempted to collect the dinner dishes, she was waved off and summoned to join the other two in the living room. As Patricia curled her legs up underneath herself, she fixed her gaze on her guests and implored, "Tell me everything...everything that you can remember Dee ever saying and doing. I have a lot of years to fill in."

Settling beside her, Lindsay sensed that it would be many hours before they saw their beds that night.

Chapter Sixteen

Jaye leaned back in her chair, approaching exhaustion from the long hours of conversation. Lindsay had already retired for the night but, sensing that her aunt's lover still needed to talk, Jaye had stayed up with their hostess. Now, however, she noted that the older woman had drifted off into her own thoughts, and she remained quiet, allowing Patricia the comfort of her memories.

Tired eyes shifted to her aunt's ghost. Delia had been a constant presence since Gareth's departure, hovering close to Patricia as if to offer ethereal solace. The spirit raised her eyes and met Jaye's, sorrow mixed with a curious contentment in the wise, old gaze. The younger woman couldn't help wondering if Delia's shade would remain at Patricia's side for whatever years the elegant woman had left.

"I almost feel like she's here...like I can still feel her love surrounding me."

Patricia's wistful remark startled Jaye out of her torpor and without thinking, she blurted, "She is. She's sitting right beside you."

"Pardon?"

Hazel eyes had widened in shock and Jaye's immediate instinct was to quickly recant, but Delia's nod and half-smile encouraged her.

"My aunt. Well, her spirit anyway...she's sitting beside you and has been all evening."

"You can see her?" Patricia's voice was a mixture of skepticism and desperate hope.

Jaye nodded. "I've been able to since the day of her funeral. I almost had a coronary when she first showed up, but she was so pissed off at being murdered when she had big plans for her life that she insisted I find out who did it. She knew Lindsay had been wrongly accused, and wasn't about to sit still for that kind of injustice."

Patricia laughed. "That's sounds like my Dee." She turned to stare at the spot to which Jaye had gestured. Sadly she reported, "I can't see her."

"Tell her to close her eyes, J-mac. Tell her to clear her mind and just let herself feel."

Obediently, Jaye repeated her aunt's words, watching as Patricia followed the instructions, an expression of wary hope on her aristocratic features.

Delia raised both hands, cupping her lover's face and smoothing her thumbs over the lines around her eyes and mouth. Bending forward, she touched her lips to Patricia's, lingering as if tasting a long-ago sweetness.

Hazel eyes flew open. "I felt her! I really felt her!"

Jaye laughed, delighted that her aunt had gotten through.

Patricia turned eagerly to the younger woman. "Can I talk to her?"

"I'm not sure. I mean, she can hear what you say, but I'm not sure if you'll be able to hear her replies. Give it a try. I'll translate if necessary."

The elegant woman turned back to face the unseen wraith. "Dee...darling, I'm so sorry. If only I hadn't delayed. Maybe if I'd been with you..."

"No, Patty. You might have gotten hurt, and I couldn't have borne that."

Jaye had never heard such tenderness in her aunt's voice, not even when Delia had comforted her after numerous childhood scrapes. She felt like a voyeur, but when it became clear that Patricia still couldn't hear her lover's words, she repeated them.

A strangled half-sob met her recitation. "Only Dee ever called me Patty. I never let anyone else get away with that nickname." Tears spilled down her cheeks, but her eyes were luminous with joy. "Oh God, she's really here. Please tell her how much I miss her and how dearly I love her."

Jaye's vision was unaccountably misty. "She knows. She can hear you." She cocked her head as she listened to her aunt. "She says to remember what she told you on the beach, that she always knew, even after you left. She never for a moment doubted your love, and she never blamed you."

Patricia wept bitterly now. "My mother...Gareth..."

Deciding discretion was in order, Jaye decided not to convey the oath that burst from Delia's lips at the mention of the two people who had destroyed the young lovers' dreams. Setting aside her curiosity about the reference to the beach, she frowned at her aunt, silently urging her to let the past go and focus on the despairing woman beside her. She was pleased with Delia's next words.

"My aunt asks if you remember the time of your Uncle Hannibal's annual July 4th barbeque."

Sobs slowed, and a tiny smile curled Patricia's lips.

"She wants to know if they ever proved your cousin's rowboat was sabotaged."

Jaye was startled to hear Patricia giggle and watched as Delia grinned too. She frowned in puzzlement, wondering what memory was amusing the two lovers.

Noting her confusion, Patricia explained.

"My cousin Charles was an obnoxious snob, and he had his sights set on a wealthy, young Englishwoman. Dee and I liked the girl, and we didn't want her to get stuck with Charles for life when all he was after was her money and position, so we set out to ensure that she saw the real Charles before she was swept away by his smarmy charm. We knew Charles would take Lillian out on the lake during Uncle Hannibal's picnic, because that was his standard approach to courting. The night before, Dee and I snuck out and loosened a couple of the boards in the boat. He only got about twenty feet off the dock before the water started pouring in. Not only did he make an utter ass of himself squawking like a terrified child, he abandoned Lillian in the sinking boat and scurried back to shore like the proverbial rat. Well, needless to say, by the time she made it back to land, her feet soaked and livid about his desertion, there was no danger that she'd ever consider Charles as suitable husband material."

Through gales of laughter, Delia managed to gasp, "Charles suspected us, but he was never able to prove anything."

Jaye joined in the laughter, feeling vaguely sorry for the would-be Romeo. She suspected he hadn't stood much of a chance against these two.

"So who was the brain behind that operation?" Jaye asked, when the hilarity subsided a bit.

"She was!" Patricia's declaration was instantaneous.

"Hah, like she wasn't right in there with me!" Delia protested with a wide grin.

Not at all surprised that her aunt was fingered as the instigator, Jaye chuckled as the lovers playfully blamed each other for the long-ago mischief. But as she absently continued conveying Delia's words, inwardly approving of how her aunt had lifted Patricia's spirits, she couldn't help being distracted. Her traitorous thoughts cast Lindsay and herself in the older women's shoes-friends become lovers in a disapproving world. She found herself musing on what they would do in the same position, if her father forbade such a relationship and threatened to disown her. She wondered if she would have the strength to stand against him, and give up the only family she had left for the woman she loved. Startled at her train of thought, Jaye forced herself to set it aside and concentrate on her role as interlocutor.

With memories and loving words exchanged between Delia and Patricia, another hour passed before Jaye finally called a halt. Yawning widely, she apologized. "I'm sorry, I can't keep my eyes open any more. I'm going to have to say goodnight."

Patricia stood as Jaye did, and surprised the younger woman with a fervent, grateful hug.

"Thank you. You have no idea what a gift you've given me tonight. I can never repay you."

"No need to. I was glad to help." Jaye smiled, then glanced over to where her aunt still sat.

"Goodnight, J-mac. You're a good girl, and I'm damned lucky to have you as my niece."

Her aunt's gruff approval warmed Jaye, and she bade the lovers' goodnight. On her way to the stairs, she detoured through the dining room. Patricia had insisted that they leave the dishes, saying that the housekeeper would clear them away in the morning and that they had more important things to do. That suited Jaye perfectly as she carefully wrapped Gareth's wine glass in a linen napkin and carried it upstairs to her room. Carefully stowing it in her bag, she wearily stripped off her clothes and threw on an oversized t-shirt that Patricia had loaned her.

She had opened the bedroom door on her way to the washroom when she heard Delia's voice from behind her. Turning, she saw her aunt sitting on her bed. Without any preliminaries, the ghost said, "I want you to leave off this investigation, J-mac. It doesn't matter who killed me. What's done is done, and some day, whoever did it will have to answer to the ultimate justice."

Momentarily speechless, Jaye stared at her aunt, before bursting out, "Not bloody likely! We're right on the verge of solving this thing, and you know it!"

"Don't know anything of the kind, Eeyore." Delia's stern voice echoed in the large bedroom.

"Like hell you don't! We both know Gareth had the strongest motive, and Lindsay and I are going to prove opportunity tomorrow."

Delia stood abruptly, all the earlier gentleness gone from her sharp eyes. "Jaye Andrea MacLaren...I said let it drop!"

Jaye used every bit of her meagre height in a fruitless attempt to intimidate her aunt as she snapped, "I will not. There's no way on God's green earth that I'm going to let that miserable bastard get away with killing my favourite aunt."

The ghost shook her head in exasperation, even as her gaze softened slightly. "You don't understand..."

"I do understand." Jaye's voice had dropped in volume too. "You're willing to let Gareth get away with it, because you don't want to hurt Patricia. I understand that, Auntie Dee, but..."

"No buts. That's the only thing that matters to me, J-mac. She's suffered so much pain in her life that I can't bear for her to hurt anymore, particularly because of me. Can't you understand? Nothing else matters to me."

"I do understand," Jaye insisted, her new awareness of the vital, powerful love between the older women foremost in her mind. "That doesn't mean I'm willing to let a murderer get off scot free."

"Damn it, girl! If you don't leave it alone, I'm going to haunt you forever. I'll do it, you know," Delia threatened.

Jaye laughed outright, half-chagrined at the thought and half-hopeful that her aunt would stay around. She just prayed that talking to an invisible shade for the next four or five decades wouldn't eventually land her in the loony bin.

Delia stamped her foot, but it lost any impact when it didn't even disturb the thick carpet. Abandoning her first approach, she resorted to pleading. "Please, J-mac, please. Won't you do this for me? It's the last thing I'll ever ask of you. If you love me..."

Groaning, Jaye rolled her eyes and hung her head, helpless against the unprecedented pleas. Her aunt had rarely asked her for anything, except to investigate her death, and she couldn't bear the thought of disappointing her.
Exhausted to the point of being unable to think straight, she said simply, "Let me sleep on it, Auntie, all right?"

Delia bit her lip, then nodded. "All right. Go to sleep, girl. We'll talk in the morning."

As her aunt's ghost faded, Jaye turned wearily to the door, only to stop short at the sight of a sleep tousled Lindsay staring at her from the doorway.

"Oh shit! Uh, what are you...I mean, what did you...?"

Lindsay cocked her disheveled head and regarded her with bemusement. "I heard yelling, so I came to see what was going on, only to find you having a very intense conversation with thin air. Care to explain?"

Jaye groaned, stumbling to the bed where she flung herself down and covered her eyes with an arm. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." She felt the mattress dip as Lindsay sat on the edge of the bed.

"Try me."

Lying quietly, Jaye processed the simple words, wondering if Lindsay could possibly believe her. She finally lifted her arm and peered up at patient eyes. Suddenly the need to take this woman into her confidence outweighed any fears of being ridiculed.

"I was arguing with Delia's ghost over whether or not we should pursue the murderer any further. She doesn't want Patricia hurt if we nail Gareth for the killing."

Lindsay nodded slowly, obviously chewing over her words. "So...you're telling me, you can see and talk to Delia."

"Yeah."

"Huh."

Wryly, Jaye thought she should at least be grateful that her companion hadn't run screaming out of the room. She rolled onto her stomach and buried her head in her arms, too tired to do more than let the truth hang there, waiting for Lindsay's evaluation.

"How long?"

"Mmmm?"

"How long have you been able to communicate with Delia?"

"She came to me after the funeral. She was angry that you'd been unjustly imprisoned, and she wanted me to find the real murderer."

"Mmm hmm."

There was a long silence, and Jaye almost drifted off before she felt a hand gently rubbing her back. She held still, enjoying the soft touch even as she wondered if Lindsay was conscious of what she was doing.

"So what are we going to do? Should we back off on Gareth?"

Unseen, Jaye's eyebrow shot up. She rolled over again, coming to rest pressed up against Lindsay's thigh. "Just like that. You believe me?"

The redhead smiled. "Well, you hardly seem like the sort to see things that aren't there, and it does explain some things that have happened. Delia and I occasionally talked about the occult, and we both thought there was more to the world than the eye could see. She told me once that she thought she could feel the presence of her twin, your mother, especially when you were spending the summers with her."

Jaye gaped at her companion. "Well, I'll be damned."

Lindsay laughed out loud. "I hope not, but in the meantime, what do we do about Gareth?"

Stunned at how readily she'd been believed, Jaye shook off her weariness to explain the evening's events with Patricia and the gist of the argument with Delia. By the time she was done, both women were sitting cross-legged on the bed, facing each other, with their knees touching. Jaye tried desperately not to be distracted by the feel of warm, smooth flesh against her own, but found herself hoping that this would be a lengthy conversation. When her eyes strayed to the shadowed thighs under Lindsay's stretched nightshirt, she had to forcibly wrench her attention back to her companion's words.

Apparently oblivious to Jaye's dilemma, Lindsay tapped her finger on the other woman's knee as she reviewed their case against Gareth.

"We know that Gareth had a powerful motive, but so far, we don't have any evidence to support our suspicions. Just because we dislike the jerk, we can't automatically assume that he's the one."

"No, but I may have the smoking gun," Jaye said with satisfaction, gleeful when that caused Lindsay to squeeze her knee excitedly.

"You do? What?"

"I've got Gareth's wine glass with his prints on it. I know that the killer escaped out the library window, because Dolan and I both found footprints and smears of blood. Odds are that Gareth panicked and wasn't thinking clearly, which could well mean that he left fingerprints when he went out the window. All we need to do is turn the glass over to Dolan and explain our theory. He can also check and see if it matches with any prints from the car."

"Hmm, that's good, but I think we should see what else we could find to buttress our arguments. Gareth is an influential man, and they're going to want a solid case to indict him."

Jaye nodded her agreement. "When I went out to the Jeep earlier, I got his make of car and license plate too, so maybe Dolan can check and see if Gareth got a ticket or a gas receipt or anything to put him on the road to Tucker's Way. It'd be circumstantial, but every little bit helps." She hesitated. "That presumes that we're going to go forward with this against Delia's wishes."

The two women were silent as they pondered their options. Troubled green eyes met worried blue, as Lindsay spoke softly.

"I think we have to, Jaye. Think of what Gareth was saying tonight. He has his eyes set on the Oval Office eventually. I get the feeling he has some pretty powerful backing to get there, too. Do we really want him as the leader of the Free World?"

Jaye shuddered at the thought, very glad that she was Canadian, but knowing that whoever was in the White House affected every country in the world, including her own. "God, no!"

"Then we have to stop him now. We simply can't let him get away with this, no matter how much it hurts his mother."

Lindsay's words were urgent and persuasive. Jaye couldn't deny their truth, but the distressing thought of hurting that lovely woman, not to mention incurring her aunt's wrath, was hard to bear.

She murmured sadly, "If only you could've seen them together tonight." She raised anguished eyes to meet Lindsay's compassionate gaze. "They truly loved each other. I don't think I've ever seen the like...at least not in my life."

A moment of crystal clarity passed between the two women: a fragile moment of unspoken dreams, of a future bright with possibilities, yet fraught with pitfalls; of joy untold for those with the courage to seize it, yet too ephemeral for the fearful to grasp.

Jaye only realized she'd been holding her breath when she saw Lindsay suck in a deep draught of air and jerk her head as if shaking off a prolonged fugue.

"Um...uh, what about a compromise?" Jaye suggested, trying to reorient herself. "What if we gather whatever information we can while we're here in Boston, and leave the decision about what to do with it until we're back in Tucker's Way?"

"Yeah...uh, that sounds good," Lindsay agreed, as she fussed with her borrowed nightshirt and edged towards the side of the bed. "Well, I'll let you get some sleep now. Talk to you in the morning."

She left hastily, closing the door behind her. Jaye stared after her, wondering what had just happened, and certain that no matter how tired she was, sleep would be elusive tonight.

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

Jaye bit her lip as her eyes drifted around the hotel room. Despite the two queen-sized beds, she couldn't help wondering if it wouldn't have been wiser to get two rooms...not that she'd argued when Lindsay had suggested getting one to save on expenses.

They had parted from Patricia that morning, leaving her with promises to stay in touch and the impression that they were heading directly back to Tucker's Way. Instead, they'd found a hotel and taken up temporary residence. One phone call had confirmed that Gareth was in court all day, and now Jaye was waiting for Lindsay so they could pay a call on their prime suspect's legal firm.

Her companion had gone out an hour earlier, citing the need to look appropriate for their visit. Jaye had passed the interval trying to read the complimentary newspaper and flipping aimlessly through TV channels. She'd attempted to discipline her thoughts and focus on their mission, but her mind kept returning to that single revelatory moment the previous evening. She was torn between trying to pin down exactly what she was feeling toward Lindsay, and half-hoping, half-fearing that Lindsay was feeling the same way.

There was no way to tell from the redhead's demeanour. She'd been friendly since they'd met for breakfast at Patricia's, but nothing more. Or was there... Jaye had glanced up unexpectedly at one point to find puzzled eyes focused intently on her, but Lindsay had immediately averted her gaze and struck up a conversation with their hostess.

Hearing the sound of someone at the door, Jaye looked up expectantly, her eyes widening as she saw the woman who entered, carrying a large shopping bag. Lindsay was now outfitted in a smart, tailored, expensive-looking dark gray suit. A form-fitting jacket with a cream, silk, cowl-necked blouse underneath complemented a slightly flared, knee-length skirt. Matching pumps, earrings, and clutch purse completed the outfit; and her mass of riotous red-gold curls was drawn back in a conservative French twist.

"You like?" Lindsay asked, twirling to give the full effect of the outfit, then setting the bag down.

"Well, yeah...but why the costume?" Jaye felt slightly dazed by the contrast between the serious business professional that stood in front of her and the casual companion of the past few days.

Lindsay sat carefully on the straight chair nearest the window, crossing her legs primly at the ankles. "Camouflage. When I get to Gareth's office, I don't want his secretary to see me as anything out of the ordinary, just another busy professional blending in with the endless stream of people through her boss' office."

Jaye mulled that over, then clicked to Lindsay's choice of pronoun. "Hey! What do you mean when you go to Gareth's?"

The redhead chuckled. "I was wondering when you'd pick up on that." Getting serious, she leaned forward, fixing her gaze on her companion. "Jaye, I'm not trying to cut you out, but you have to admit that between the two of us, I'm better at handling people. I think I can get his secretary to open up much more easily, not to mention that if I go in alone, I'm just one more anonymous, potential client. In this outfit, I'll hardly stand out in a crowd."

Jaye considered the argument and had to concede its merits, though she bit her lip to keep from protesting that Lindsay would so stand out in any crowd. Disliking the thought of the other woman going in alone, she had to agree about her friend's superior ability to get people to open up. Reluctantly she nodded.

"All right, I guess you have a point. What's your plan?"

Lindsay stood and paced in front of Jaye. "Well, we need to determine Gareth's movements on the day Delia was murdered, so I thought I'd come across as piqued because he stood me up that day for a business luncheon, and not entirely sure that I'm willing to rebook, especially with so much money at stake in the deal I was to propose to him. If I work it right, with just the right mix of irritation and snootiness, his secretary will offer excuses and apologies in an effort to keep her boss out of trouble, and hopefully, whatever she says will give us the information we need."

"Sounds good. While you're playing Nancy Drew, I'm going to find a Net access and track down a picture of Gareth in the newspaper archives. From what he was saying last night, I have a hunch it won't be difficult to find pictures of him in the society pages. Once we have that, we can show it around Tucker's Way and see if anyone spotted him last week."

Beaming, Lindsay impulsively threw her arms around Jaye and hugged her enthusiastically. "That's excellent! Witnesses to place him in Tucker's Way on the right day, a strong motive, and fingerprints to place him at the murder scene should provide a solid case against him."

Her eyes widened in pleasant shock as Jaye absorbed the feeling of Lindsay's warm body against hers. Far too soon for her, the other woman abruptly released her grasp and stepped back, a blush coloring her fair skin.

"Um, well, I should really get going to Gareth's office. Shall we meet back here around noon?" Lindsay's head was lowered as her fingers played nervously with her purse.

Gently Jaye reached out and tipped her chin up, looking deep into chagrined eyes. She held those eyes for a long moment, resisting mightily the urge to reassure her companion with a kiss. Instead she simply said, "Thank you." Then, smiling, she withdrew her hand and wished the redhead luck.

She watched Lindsay hasten from the room, exhilarated by the sensations coursing through her body and wistful that neither of them yet had the confidence to pursue what was developing so rapidly between them. The Canadian sighed. Could it be that this was a case of foxhole lust? Had the circumstances and the manner in which they'd been thrown together simply engendered a temporary attraction between them?

Even as her mind posed the questions, her heart rejected that theory. Jaye had occasionally gone straight from a gruesome crime scene shoot to the nearest bar, looking for anyone to remind her for a few hours that she was alive. But this...this feeling that Lindsay so effortlessly aroused was unprecedented in the Canadian's experience. Even as she longed for time to explore this, Jaye couldn't help wondering if she would have the courage to take the first step.

God knows after the way you reacted to finding out about Auntie Dee and Patricia, she's not going to initiate anything! What I wouldn't give to have those few moments back to do over.

With that vexing thought in mind, Jaye turned to get ready for her detecting excursion, only to see a grave-eyed Delia leaning against the window sill, the sunlight apparent through her form. The Canadian groaned inwardly, knowing that the confrontation was going to come sooner than she'd hoped. Steeling herself, she met her aunt's eyes squarely.

"We can't. You know we can't. Remember when I was nine, and you tanned my behind for not stopping Tommy Fessler from picking on that Campbell kid?"

"I remember. Hughie Campbell was a born target for bullies like Tommy Fessler, too slow to understand meanness and too sweet to stand up for himself."

"And you told me Martin Niemoeller's words for the first time? You made me memorize them and recite them over and over again that whole summer." Jaye closed her eyes, searching her memory. "Now how did it go... Oh yeah, I remember." Reciting slowly, her brow furrowed in concentration, she uttered the words her aunt had burned into her mind. "In Germany the Nazis came first for the Communists, and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Communist. Then they came for the Jews and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Jew. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a trade unionist. Then they came for the Catholics, and I didn't speak up because I was a Protestant. Then they came for me, and by that time no one was left to speak up."

Delia smiled wanly. "You would remember that at the most awkward time." She sighed heavily. "I know what you're saying, J-mac, but it's going to kill her to find out that her son is a murderer."

Somberly, Jaye agreed. "And I'd give anything if it weren't so, but you hammered those ideals into my head at an early age...to stand up for what's right, no matter what, and to protect those who can't protect themselves. Auntie Dee, we can't just let him get away with this. He's already proven himself an immoral, opportunistic bastard. Who knows how many innocents he'll hurt on his climb to the top of the political ladder, and God knows what he'd do with all that power once he was there."

Reluctantly, the words sounding as if they'd been literally dragged out of her, Delia conceded. "All right. You do what you have to do. All I ask is that you go to her when it's time and stand by her side. Will you do that for your old aunt, J-mac?"

Jaye nodded solemnly. "I give you my word. We'll make sure we're with her when they arrest Gareth." She hesitated a moment, then asked the question that had been on her mind since the previous day. "Um, Auntie Dee? Was it Patricia you were meeting in Bangor?"

Delia smiled with gentle remembrance, and nodded.

Jaye grinned at her aunt. "I'm so glad." Then with an apologetic shrug, she added, "I'd better be off to do my sleuthing. I'll talk to you later." Retrieving her wallet from the bedside table, she left the room, intent on finding one more piece of the puzzle that would nail Gareth Edwards, Jr.

Wise old eyes followed her exit, then became distant as Delia remembered her reunion with her former lover after forty years. She didn't count the first, stiff visit when Gareth Jr. had accompanied his mother, but joyfully, she allowed the memory to carry her back over three months ago to a warm June day...

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

Ruefully Delia forced her eyes back down to the ledger that lay under her hand on the desk. The neat, if shaky, columns of figures had been abandoned as her mind drifted off in much more pleasurable pursuits.

Delia had been daydreaming. She laughed quietly, knowing that Lindsay, currently out in Oregon, would've been surprised to see that, but then the real shock would have been if her younger companion had known the contents of those daydreams.

"Snow on the chimney doesn't mean the fire's out, does it, you old bat?" Delia chided herself lightly, amused by the erotic paths her mind had been traveling. It happened with more and more regularity, and she could pinpoint the exact date long-dead dreams had resurfaced.

May 4th. The day that Patricia had walked back into her life, accompanied by a son who was the spitting image of his father. It hadn't been the comfortable reunion of long lost friends. There was too much water under the bridge, and too many things left unsaid. She had grasped instantly that a large part of Patricia's reticence could be attributed to her son's presence, and she had played hostess with a calm cordiality that gave lie to the turmoil within.

Yet Patricia had sought her out...after all these years, and to Delia's eyes, her former lover was even more beautiful than she had been as a young woman.

When mother and son departed, Delia had retired to her room, shaken by the encounter and trying to decipher what it meant. Was her former lover merely checking to see if she was well and that was the end of it? It was certainly a possibility. Delia wasn't fond of the modern term, 'closure', but perhaps with the death of Patricia's husband, the widow had felt a renewed need to come to terms with her past, and lay it to rest once and for all.

Delia had persuaded herself that was all that the visit implied, when the first letter arrived several days later. Her arthritis had been bad that day, and she'd had to get Lindsay to open the envelope before she went to her study to read it in private. The letter had left her in tears, but they were cleansing, healing tears.

Finally after all these years, Delia knew why Patricia had left her to marry Gareth. She wasn't at all surprised that her lover had sacrificed everything to protect her, though she wished with all her heart that Patricia had run from Gareth and come directly to her that fateful night. Still, what was done, was long done, and she couldn't even find it in herself to hate the architects of her distant heartbreak. Gareth and Virginia were both dead, and she firmly believed that they would have been called to answer for the misery they had caused the young lovers. What mattered was the present, and in the present, Patricia sought to renew their friendship. She didn't ask for anything more, and Delia could read her old friend's hesitancy between the lines. She knew that it must have taken a great deal of courage to make the first move, not knowing if the gesture would have been thrown back in her face.

That first letter had begun a regular correspondence, as the two women cautiously found their way back to friendship. It wasn't the impulsive, fiery, tempestuous friendship of their youth. Experience, maturity, pain and joy had shaped the women differently, and the forty years lost between them was a chasm that they could only bridge with slow resolution. Some topics were off limits. Delia never discussed the weeks after Patricia had left her, and her former lover never talked about her mother or late husband after the initial explanation. Yet despite those minefields, something magical had happened.

Delia had fallen in love all over again, and she knew from Patricia's eloquent letters, that she was feeling the same. The bond that had been so callously severed, began to reweave itself and the two women drew closer with each missive. Recently, there had been more urgency in the Bostonian's letters, but as yet Delia was unable to overcome her fear.

She had long ago learned to live with her lover's loss, but she had been young and resilient then. What if it didn't work out this time either? What if she let herself love Patricia, only to lose her once again? She had built a satisfying life in Tucker's Way, filled with friends and purpose. She loved her home, and Lindsay was a sheer delight to live with. The only minor quibble in her life was the too infrequent visits from her niece, though Jaye e-mailed and phoned constantly.

Yet for all her contentment, nothing had ever filled the hole that Patricia had left in her heart. She hadn't spent the intervening years entirely celibate, though she kept her affairs discreet and well removed from the transparency of Tucker's Way, but no other woman had ever reached her in the same all-consuming way that her first and truest love had.

In the end, no amount of rational, carefully considered, clear-eyed logic could make the decision. Delia knew she had to trust her heart, and that stubborn entity was steadily pushing her right back into Patricia's arms.

She laughed again, resting a gnarled hand on the stack of letters she normally kept locked in a tin box. It amused her that in a world of instant, long distance communications, they had rekindled their romance via the old-fashioned method of the handwritten word. She wondered if Patricia remembered when their mutual passion for letters had first begun. She had long ago forgotten their third grade teacher's name, but she still remembered the woman's insistence on her students learning all the correct forms for formal and informal correspondence, and practicing them over and over. She, Andi and Patricia had taken great delight in writing each other letters, even though they spent hours of every day in each other's company. Andi had eventually gotten bored, but where other girls confided in their pretty, little diaries, she and Patricia had poured out their hearts in writing to each other for years. And now they had begun the process again, secure in the belief that the confidences of old age would be as readily protected as the secrets of youth had been all those long years ago.

Reluctantly Delia pushed the letters aside and tried to refocus on her monthly accounts and investment statements, when, through the window opened to the warmth of the spring day, she heard a car driving up the lane towards the house. Curious, because she hadn't been anticipating company, she went to the window. The sight of the big, white Lincoln approaching set her heart pounding, and she hastened to the front door.

Standing on the stoop, she adjusting her glasses, trying to see if there were one or two people in the car, but the glare reflecting off the windshield prevented that. When a nervously smiling Patricia stepped from the car alone, Delia gave a relieved sigh. Her old friend's obnoxious son had not accompanied her this time.

Delia descended the steps and walked towards her visitor. "Patty! How wonderful to see you. Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

Without a word, Patricia stepped towards her and wrapped her in a tight hug. For a long moment the two women simply stood, greedily absorbing the contact, then Delia heard a whisper.

"Because I was afraid that you'd tell me not to come." Patricia drew back and caressed Delia's face with a soft hand. "When you told me that Lindsay was going away for a few days, I knew I had to take the chance."

"The chance?" Delia's words trembled as she gazed at the woman she had loved so long ago-and still loved.

"The chance that you might not feel the same. The chance that you no longer wanted me in your life as other than a friend. I wouldn't blame you if that were the case, but I..."

Delia pressed her stiff fingers across Patricia's lips and smiled. "Thank you for taking the chance, my love."

She watched the blossoming delight in the other woman's eyes, and shyly asked, "Will you stay the weekend with me?"

"Yes, oh yes!" Patricia pulled Delia back into her arms and held her close. Delia's eyes were wet as she simply reveled in the sensation of being in her love's arms again. She had no idea how long they stood there for, but finally she pulled back with a chuckle.

"The squirrels are going to think we're a pair of garden statues, at this rate. Why don't we take your things into the house?"

Nodding, Patricia popped the trunk and pulled out an overnight bag. As they walked back to the house, she reached for Delia's hand. For a brief second Dee feared that her arthritic knuckles and gnarled fingers would repulse her friend, but the other woman was looking at her with such warmth in her eyes that she abandoned the fear and simply enjoyed the feeling of being linked with someone again. It had been so very long...

Not wanting to misread the other woman's intentions, Delia hesitated when they entered the main hallway, but Patricia just smiled and led the way to the master bedroom. Leaving her suitcase inside the door, she suggested, "How about a walk on the beach, Dee?"

Relieved that they weren't going to rush into anything, Delia eagerly agreed and they made their way out to the stone staircase that led down the bluff to the beach below. Once on the sand, they walked slowly, Delia's arm tucked inside Patricia's.

They hadn't gone far when Patricia stopped and turned to face Delia, taking both misshapen hands in her own. Her eyes solemn, and her voice intense, she began. "I owe you a world of apologies, my darling. I've never forgiven myself for hurting you the way I did."

Delia shook her head. "No, Patty. Even when I didn't know why, I knew it wasn't your choice, and I never doubted your love, just as I never stopped loving you."

That elicited a harsh sob as Patricia visibly tried to control her emotions. Soothingly, Delia went on.

"What's done is long ago done, sweetheart. We can't change what happened, and we can't get those years back. The only thing that matters now is what we want today."

Biting her lip, her eyes bright with unshed tears, Patricia asked, "What do you want, Dee?"

"You, for whatever time God has left for us." This time Delia took the initiative. Cupping the face that was still so delicate, even with the imprint of age, she gently touched her lips to Patricia's. It was a kiss as fragile as a butterfly's wing, and as immortal as the ocean they stood beside. It was a beginning to something that had never ended.

When finally they drew apart, there was no need for words. Those would come later, but for now, they would be an intrusion on the perfection of the moment. It wasn't until hours later, when the women had settled in front of a fire after dinner that they began to talk...truly talk. No topic was now off limits and they began by recalling those painful days of their wrenching apart. Delia told Patricia how her sister and father had saved her. Patricia skimmed over the beginning of her marriage, unable even forty years later to do more than touch on the pain of that time, but her lover had no problem reading between the lines, and her heart ached for what the other woman had endured.

Just as easily, Patricia read the expression on Delia's face. "No, sweetheart, don't think the whole time was that bad. Gareth and I eventually came to an understanding. We knew we didn't love each other, but for our son's sake, we made a decision to at least get along." She smiled bitterly. "After my third miscarriage, he left our bed for good. I was glad. He was discreet in his affairs, and made no demands on me other than that I publicly uphold the image of a devoted wife."

"And you, love? Was there ever anyone else for you?" Delia asked tenderly, awkwardly stroking the hand she held.

Patricia shook her head. "No, never. I thought the only woman I loved was long lost to me, and I could never summon up interest in anyone else." She smiled. "What about you, sweetheart? Did you ever love again?"

"I wouldn't say I ever loved again, but if you mean did I ever have a...liaison, then the answer would be yes. For many years there was a woman in Paris who made time for me when I visited. She knew I didn't love her, but gallantly accepted the limits of our relationship." Delia cocked her head, remembering. "She once told me that she would gladly have returned all the gifts I'd given her over the years, for one genuine night of love, but that she knew I didn't have that in me to give." She shrugged. "There were a few others along the way, but I never gave my heart again."

"In a way I'm very sorry to hear that," Patricia said quietly. "You had so much love in you to give."

Delia smiled at her. "I still had love in my life, darling. Andi, my parents, Jaye when she came along, my friends here and overseas...I've been lucky."

The silver-blonde head ducked. "I wanted so much to come when I heard about Andi, but I knew you'd be at her side and I didn't feel it was fair to put you through that on top of what was happening. I cried for days and days when I learned of her passing."

Her voice faraway, Delia mused. "You know, one of the last things Andi said was about us. She told me that if I ever had another chance, I was to take it, no matter what." She looked at her companion apologetically. "The thing is, I couldn't have after Andi died, because I couldn't jeopardize my place in Jaye's life. She was so young, and she needed me. Thom's rules for our relationship were stringent, and I couldn't chance him cutting us off." She chuckled ruefully. "Trips to Paris grew more infrequent after that."

"Gareth died of cancer too. Bone cancer. It was an ugly death, and for all that he had done to us, I felt badly for him. No one deserves such a thing. By the end he was on such high levels of pain killers that in effect he stopped living two months before he stopped breathing." Patricia shook her head sadly. "My son took it very badly, particularly as he'd lost his grandmother only six months before. He and Mother had been boon companions. I can remember her telling him when he was just six years old, that some day he was going to sit in the Oval Office and she would be there the day that he was inaugurated. I think it was the greatest disappointment of her life when she finally realized that she wouldn't live to see that."

Delia wasn't surprised to hear that Virginia had begun early to inculcate another generation with her drive and ambition, and she supposed it went a long way to explain the man's character. "So I guess she finally gave up on Four, did she?"

That got a genuine laugh. "Oh, honey, you wouldn't believe what happened to my little brother."

Smiling at her lover's mirth, Delia asked, "What?"

"In 1965, he was in an accident. One of his drunken buddies lost control and wrapped the car they were traveling in around a light pole. Anyway, Four ended up in the hospital with broken ribs and a badly broken leg. He was in for quite a while, and in the course of his recovery, he fell in love with his nurse."

"No! Four fell in love?" Delia was vastly amused that the shallow young man she remembered had finally succumbed to Cupid's arrows.

"Yes!" Patricia responded gleefully, "But that's not the best part. Her name is Antonia, and she's a tough, no-nonsense, first generation Italian, Bronx broad-that's what she calls herself, even now. He was head over heels, and she wouldn't give him the time of day. Told him to get his snooty self off her ward and quit bothering her. Well, she always says that he just finally wore her out, and she agreed to marry him just to shut him up. Mother, of course, was absolutely horrified, and did everything she could to stop the relationship, but Four wouldn't give Antonia up for anything, not even when Mother had his trust fund cut off."

Delia stared at Patricia in amazement. "Four without a trust fund? You've got to be kidding!"

"No, I'm not. And not only that, Antonia told him bluntly that she wasn't about to put up with him lazing around their house all day doing nothing so he better get his skinny ass out of the house and get to work. He spent over thirty years as an insurance adjuster, raised six kids in a New York apartment, and was as happy as any man could be. You can tell he adores his wife to this day from the look in his eyes when he watches her. She loves him too, even if she still calls him a "good for nothing sissy pants" when he ticks her off."

"Oh my God! Your mother must have just about had a heart attack," Delia gasped between peels of laughter, then it struck her. "Oh gosh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

Patricia smiled reassuringly. "No, it's okay. Mother did eventually die of heart disease, but frankly I think it was more because of all the venom she'd spewed over the years than the fate of her only son."

Delia looked at her curiously. "How did you and your mother get along...I mean after..."

"After she callously wrecked my life?" Patricia shook her head. "Truthfully I'd have been glad never to see her again, but Gareth wouldn't allow that and insisted I maintain at least a cordial relationship with her. I guess over time, just as Gareth and I did, Mother and I worked out a way to get along. I never fully forgave her, but once my son arrived, things changed. She doted on Gareth Jr., and that gave me a lot more leverage than I'm not ashamed to say I used. I got her to attend Four and Antonia's wedding by threatening to withhold visiting privileges, and I even got her to reinstate Four in her will though she never would bend on giving him back his trust fund. Ironically, I think he became a much better man because of it."

Still shaking her head at Four's most unexpected life, Delia pushed herself up off the couch and walked to the sideboard. "Can I interest you in a nightcap, Patty?"

"Sure, what are you having?"

Delia smiled, and glanced back at her lover. "Black rum, neat. It's kind of my own personal tradition."

"Black rum? You?"

She poured two shots of the dark liquid and carefully carried them back to the couch, passing one glass to a doubtful looking Patricia.

Sinking down, she tapped her glass against her lover's. "Cheers," she said softly, and tipped the rum back, enjoying the familiar bite.

Hesitantly Patricia followed suit, only to grimace at the first sip. "God, Dee, that's horrible. I can't believe you like this stuff."

"A long time ago I was at sea. It was a time of endings and beginnings. It was the first time I'd tasted real sorrow, and the first time I tasted rum," Delia said quietly, gazing at the fireplace where the flames had subsided to embers. "I drink rum to this day because I never want to forget that time. It's my way to honour what we had, and what we lost, for those thing should never be forgotten." Then smiling a little to lighten the mood, she added with a shrug, "Besides, it puts fire in these old bones."

Patricia gently turned Delia's face towards her and their eyes locked in profound understanding. Solemnly she raised her glass, saluted her lover, and drained the liquid in one smooth swallow. Rising, she took both glasses and replaced them on the sideboard. Turning back, she extended her hand and said tenderly, "Let's go to bed, sweetheart."

Delia had thought of this moment often since Patricia had first re-entered her life, and she had worried about many things. She hadn't made love with anyone in a long time, not since her arthritis has gotten so bad. She feared that her touch would be harsh and clumsy where she wanted to be gentle. She was also concerned that Patricia would be remembering the girl she once was, and might be repulsed by the physical changes four decades had wrought.

When Patricia led her into the bedroom, turning on the bedside lamp for muted light, Delia joked weakly, "You might want to turn that off. The darkness is much kinder to this old body."

Her lover studied her for a long moment, then, reading Delia's insecurities easily, shook her head. "Darling, by all rights we should've grown old together, let the years age us together, and dealt with each inevitable change as it came on us. Do you think, had we been together, that as we passed forty, or fifty, or sixty we would've been bothered by the fact that the other no longer looked like a twenty-one year old?"

Delia shook her head mutely.

"Then how can you think that it bothers me now, love? We were denied the chance to age together, but that doesn't mean I don't find you as beautiful as the last time we made love."

"But you're still..."

Patricia stopped her with a long, deep kiss, and when she ended it, Delia smiled. "You always did win arguments that way." She raised one hand and rested it on her lover's blouse. "I can't manage buttons any more, sweetheart."

"Not a problem," Patricia whispered, and she stepped back, slowly and deliberately beginning to undo her blouse. Delia swallowed deeply as she watched the tantalizing sight. She barely breathed as the other woman peeled off her clothes, revealing a body that had stood up remarkably well to the passing years.

Once Patricia was nude, she pulled the bedding back and looked over expectantly. That galvanized Delia, and she moved quickly to shed her clothes. Because she avoided buttons, she was able to tug her garments off quickly and set them aside, along with her glasses. Self-consciously, she avoided her lover's eyes as she walked to the large bed and slipped under the covers, pulling them up high.

Patricia slid over next to her and gently pushed the bedding down. Delia was sure her heart would pound out of her chest as she felt the silky warmth of the woman she loved for the first time in over forty years, and tasted rum on lips that were strange yet so familiar. Soft hands stroked and caressed her, gently coaxing her into setting aside any last inhibitions.

"You are so beautiful, Dee," Patricia murmured as she eased her body over her lover's. Delia urged her higher, eagerly seeking out the breasts that dangled so temptingly over her. Murmurs of delight drew her deeper into the moment, and she forgot the hands that could no longer stroke her lover's flesh with the same surety they once had, and the back that ached from the long evening sitting on the couch. All that mattered was in the eyes that looked down at her with such overwhelming love.

Memories of what once had been mingled with the joy of what was now in a symphony of pleasure for both women. Though their bodies no longer moved with the fury and flexibility of youth, they still drew on the same deep passion to fuel their lovemaking. Gently, patiently, they relearned the touches that had once set them on fire. If their satisfaction was slower in coming, it was all the more rewarding for the delicately intense build up. Delia found that despite her worries, her hands posed little impediment in conveying her desire and appreciation to her lover, and she reveled as much in Patricia's cries of delight as she did in her own release.

It was long after midnight when they finally relaxed into each other's arms, exhausted, satiated, and blissfully grateful for their rediscovered love. In the days that followed, it sometimes seemed as if no time had passed since they were girls, and often as if they had been granted the grace of growing old together. The intimacy of body and soul they had once taken for granted was now something to be treasured. They often caught each other peeking at the other as if to ensure she was really there, then laughing out loud in sheer exultation. As the pain of the past fragmented and drifted away like an early morning fog, their old playfulness returned. Both were deeply appreciative that they had not only reclaimed their lover, but also their best friend.

When it came time for Patricia to leave, the days had passed far too quickly for both of them, and they made plans to meet again as soon as possible. They had ruled out Boston, both because they didn't want to confront Gareth yet, and because Delia still hadn't overcome her ingrained antipathy to the city. Settling on Bangor for the convenience of flying in and the anonymity of a strange place, Patricia promised to secure them an apartment for their rendezvous, and though they parted reluctantly, they did so knowing they would soon be together again. Left unspoken was the desire to make their union permanent, but both women knew it was only a matter of time. There were issues to be dealt with, but when Patricia promised Delia that this time even her son's objections wouldn't separate them, she knew it for the truth.

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

Yeah, but we didn't bank on the lengths he'd go to keep us apart. The ghost shook her head sorrowfully. Delia knew that she should be grateful to have had the time that they did, for each time they met in Bangor was as wonderful as the first time, but she hadn't been able to overcome the sense of being cheated.

We were so close...

Chapter Seventeen

Lindsay walked down the hall of the modern building, mentally comparing its stark, impersonal appearance with the small, comfortable layout of the City Hall in Tucker's Way. As she neared Gareth's office, she went over her strategy one last time before entering the large room.

A brown-haired woman in business attire smiled pleasantly at her. "May I help you?"

Glancing at the nameplate, which read "Beverly Lindstrom," Lindsay stifled her natural urge to smile warmly and replied brusquely yet politely, "I'd like to see Mr. Edwards."

"I'm sorry. He's in court all day today. Did you have an appointment?"

Forcing her body language to convey impatience, Lindsay commented acerbically, "I had one last week and it certainly didn't do me any good. Mr. Edwards never showed."

The secretary sighed and opened the weekly planner on her desk. "Was it last Thursday, ma'am?"

"Yes, it was. I had a luncheon engagement to discuss a donation one of my clients wanted to make for his upcoming congressional bid. I'm having second thoughts now. I'm not accustomed to being stood up without the courtesy of a phone call or an apology." Lindsay felt a fleeting sense of guilt for harrying the secretary, but reminded herself of the importance of what she was doing.

Frowning as she studied the planner, the secretary shook her head in confusion. "I was sure that I'd contacted everyone in his calendar and rescheduled all the appointments." Glancing up from the planner, Beverly asked, "What was your name again, please? There was no one penciled in for lunch that day."

"Diane Calvin." Lindsay placed a hand on her hip and allowed irritation to creep into her voice. "And I can assure you that I had an appointment. I spoke with Gareth myself."

Her voice placating, the secretary apologized. "I am very sorry, ma'am. He must have forgotten to tell me. He's totally booked this week, but I can reschedule you for next Monday, if you'd like."

Lindsay commented curtly, "Is he always so irresponsible about his schedule? I would think he would go out of his way to curry favor with financial backers."

Startled, the secretary leapt to her boss' defense. "Mr. Edwards, irresponsible? Oh no. Never! He's extremely reliable. His day is meticulously planned from start to finish, and he's always on time for appointments. Last Thursday was highly unusual. He was called away unexpectedly. I've worked for him for five years, and that was a first. Usually his business trips are planned weeks in advance."

Tightly controlling the surge of elation the woman's words caused, Lindsay softened her tone, giving the informative Ms. Lindstrom a sympathetic smile. "It must have been a rough day for you, then."

"You're not kidding. I didn't even get any advance notice." The secretary's voice had taken on a slightly querulous tone at her boss' unusual behaviour. "He called at nine in the morning and without so much as a word of explanation, just said he wouldn't be in. I suggested he call some of his more important clients himself, but he insisted I handle it. The way some of his clients reacted, you'd have thought the cancellations were my fault." A longsuffering sigh concluded her narration.

"Goodness, he doesn't sound like a very nice guy to work for," the redhead encouraged, her voice now warmly empathetic.

"Oh no, he's usually great. That was totally out of character for him. Gareth is normally punctilious to a fault," the secretary said firmly. "Heavens, we could all set our watches by him in this office." She shook her head solemnly. "No, whatever his commitment on Thursday, it was obviously an important and unexpected matter. By the time he came in that night, he was quite distressed."

Lindsay raised her eyebrow, her voice conveying nothing more than polite curiosity. "So he did come into work after all?"

"Yes, but it was late. I was still waiting for a return call from one of his VIP clients." Beverly's voice had dropped as she leaned forward to impart a confidence. "Really, you should've seen him, Ms. Calvin. He was terribly distraught, and so pale that I thought surely he must have been in an accident. I'd never seen him in such a state. He wouldn't even talk to me, just told me to go home. Seriously, he'd never have stood you up if it wasn't a personal emergency of some sort."

Nodding understandingly, Lindsay said, "Okay. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt this time. I have to go out of town next week. When I get back, I'll give you a call to reschedule."

Smiling, the woman said, "Thank you for understanding, Ms. Calvin. I can assure you it won't happen again. Whatever the emergency was, it really upset him. He wasn't himself for days afterward."

Returning Beverly's smile, Lindsay left, her mind racing. She felt badly about misleading Gareth's secretary, but her desire to help bring Delia's murderer to justice overshadowed her discomfort at misrepresenting herself. The pieces were beginning to fit together very nicely, and she could hardly wait to find out what Jaye had discovered.

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

Jaye waited patiently for the picture of Gareth to finish printing out. Although there had been ample pictures of the aspiring politician on local news websites, it had been more difficult to find a close up facial shot.

Her visit to both the Boston Globe and Boston Herald's offices had yielded a wealth of information on their primary suspect. The newspaper databases had been well maintained and were easy to search. Jaye printed out a few of the more comprehensive articles to share with Lindsay, then headed for the downtown branch of the Boston Public Library.

After spending over an hour perusing microfiche and the library database of the smaller local papers, Jaye had gathered what she considered to be a fairly complete picture of the public persona of their primary suspect in Delia's murder.

She mentally recapped what she'd learned about the man who was following closely in his father's footsteps. Gareth Senior had made two abortive tries for Congressional seats before apparently resigning himself to his successful business career. Gareth Junior had attended his father's alma mater, then gone on to a distinguished career as a lawyer with a prominent Boston firm, before he too turned his attention to politics. The man's apparent charisma, erudition, and respected community standing had made him a popular speaker in local political circles. He had appeared frequently at fundraisers for GOP candidates for district, state, and federal offices for the past several years as he patiently laid the groundwork for his own Congressional bid.

Gareth's intention to run on the Republican ticket in 2002 had been temporarily short-circuited by a public and highly messy split with his wife the previous year, but he was obviously courting the right people again with a view to future elections. He had developed a solid following, particularly among the Young Turks of the GOP party. The larger newspapers spoke favorably of his staunch fiscal conservatism, but some of the smaller independent papers denounced his stance on civil liberties and environmental affairs, in which he favoured repealing laws that saddled businesses with added costs and responsibilities.

Jaye had been particularly struck by Gareth's virulent campaign against gay rights. He had urged his followers to combat the "unhealthy and unholy" trend towards equal rights for homosexuals at every turn, stridently preaching the need to stop and repeal even the mildest pro-gay state and federal laws. She was puzzled, as his outspoken views obviously predated his mother's intentions to resume a relationship with Delia. The Canadian was certain that Patricia would not have come out to her son before she was free to be with her long-ago lover, but she made a mental note to question the older woman.

She picked up the picture, staring at it. The big question was why? Why would an aspiring and ambitious politician commit murder? Her immediate dislike of Gareth had escalated proportionally with her discovery of his caustic stand against gays. Jaye shook her head ruefully. A week ago, she would never have paid any attention to political candidates' views on gay rights. Now she was filled with unanswered questions. The palpable love between Delia and Patricia, her burgeoning feelings for Lindsay-these things were causing her to examine her longtime assumptions about so many things.

Jaye grabbed her jacket, anxious to return to the hotel room and the woman who'd barely left her thoughts since they'd parted earlier that morning. She was as eager to explore her nascent feelings for the redhead, as she was to share her findings on Gareth. Concentrating on the microfiche at the Boston Globe had been difficult as her thoughts continually strayed to her sleuthing partner. It had only been with great effort of will that she'd been able to drag her mind off Lindsay and back to the search for a murderer.

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

Lindsay glanced up from the TV at the sound of the door opening. She'd been back in the hotel room for over two hours and the time had crawled by. Smiling, Lindsay stood up, trying to ignore the butterflies that were now a regular occurrence on seeing Jaye. "So, how'd it go?"

"Gareth's an interesting character study." Jaye laid the copied articles on the table. "Wait until you see some of this. Turns out he really does have friends in high places, and he's very popular with many of the locals. Unfortunately his plans for high office aren't so far-fetched, not that I'd ever vote for him."

Picking up on the disgust in Jaye's voice, Lindsay quickly fanned through the articles, scanning headlines. "I take it you didn't like what you found out?"

Jaye snorted. "That's putting it mildly! Not only does he consistently put big business issues before everything else, even to the detriment of the environment, Gareth is also radically anti-gay rights. He's actively campaigned for a repeal of the most basic laws that are in place to protect those living an alternative lifestyle, and has publicly sworn to fight any future pro-gay initiatives. The man's an ass!"

Stifling a smile at her friend's newfound vehemence, Lindsay said, "You won't get an argument out of me. I have no use for people who use vulnerable minorities to terrorize gullible majorities. They're the worst kind of manipulators; not that I have much respect for people who buy into that propaganda, either."

The Canadian glanced down at the floor, but not before Lindsay saw the reddening of her cheeks. Extending a hand, she said gently, "I wasn't talking about you, Jaye."

Chagrined eyes rose to meet hers. "Less than 48 hours ago you could have been. I'm as much of an ass as Gareth is."

Lindsay shook her head with a smile. "Not even close, my friend. Hey, come on. You apologized. Forget about it."

"Have you?"

Caught off guard and knowing the question referred to far more than Jaye's mistaken attitudes, the redhead momentarily looked away, only to find her gaze drawn back by intense blue eyes that riveted her to the spot and refused to release her. Lindsay's heart began racing as the surrounding room faded until she was only aware of the woman standing in front of her. A small ripple in time became an eternity as a primal connection - forged from the depths of their souls - diminished the space between them.

Lindsay finally regained control of her roiling emotions enough to turn away with a noncommittal shrug. Chastising herself for the slip of control, yet confused by the definite interest mirrored in Jaye's eyes, she struggled for a casual tone.

"How about if we check out and head back to Tucker's Way? There's nothing else we can do here, and we can bring each other up to date on the ride back. Then we'll be able to start showing Gareth's picture around first thing in the morning."

Jaye nodded slowly. "Okay."

The flicker of disappointment that crossed the Canadian's face further unsettled Lindsay, but she didn't want to have to handle sleeping only a few feet away from the other woman that night. Right now she needed some space to try and figure out what to do about her growing feelings for Jaye.

Firmly reminding herself that Delia's niece would be returning to Toronto once the murderer was brought to justice, Lindsay admonished herself that there was no future in giving her feelings free rein. She grabbed the plastic bags in which they had stored their newly purchased toiletries and underwear after their impulsive departure from Tucker's Way the previous day sans luggage.

Gathering up their few belongings, Lindsay prattled nervously. "It's really nice today, don't you think. Hard to believe it's already October. Why, I bet it's at least 78 out there. We really couldn't have picked a better day for driving. I really love fall in the northeast." The new suit she'd so neatly hung up only hours ago was tossed haphazardly into the bag. "Do you think that Dolan will believe us when we tell him what we found out? I really don't think we should even approach the sheriff with our evidence. Knowing him, he'd bury it and maybe even break the glass with Gareth's fingerprints on it. Dolan at least will give us a fair hearing."

With the bags stuffed to their limits, Lindsay glanced up to find Jaye watching her with a bemused expression on her face. She felt a blush rise on her cheeks. "Um, sorry. I guess I was babbling."

"No." Jaye snagged the papers off the table and tucked them down the side of one bag. "Just not giving me any time to answer. You ready?"

With an inward sigh of relief that her companion had chosen not to press matters, Lindsay nodded.

They arrived back in Tucker's Way at dusk and drove straight to the Sheriff's Office, both relieved when only Dolan's old truck and a patrol car were in the parking lot. The ginger-haired deputy smiled when the women walked in.

"What are you two up to now? I thought you'd be hanging over my shoulder every step of the way. Not to worry, though. I've got Denny and Wade keeping a close eye on our suspects," Dolan assured them, referring to the other two members of the tiny Tucker's Way police department.

Jaye shook her head. "I hate to tell you this, my friend, but we don't think they did it."

Frowning, Dolan narrowed his eyes at the pair. "You don't think... Well, hell, you heard Stu's statement."

"Yeah, and Stu had a perfect motive for setting them up," Jaye reminded him. "Revenge. We think we can make a stronger case for a different culprit."

"Huh, 'zat so? So who do you think did it, then?"

Relieved to see that he wasn't immediately rejecting their hypothesis, Lindsay spoke up. "We think a man named Gareth Edwards may have done it. Jaye's got a glass with his fingerprints on it. I bet if you run them, they'll match fingerprints on the window sill of the library and Delia's car."

Dolan studied them speculatively. "That name sounds familiar. Are you talking about the guy that's always making the political pages in the Boston newspapers?" When they nodded, he shook his head in repudiation, skeptically ticking off the flaws as he saw them. "He's not even from around here. There's no possible motive that I can see. It just doesn't make any sense. I'm afraid you're barking up the wrong tree, ladies."

Lindsay countered with their primary evidence. "Gareth never showed for work the day Delia was killed. He called in unexpectedly that morning, leaving his secretary to deal with all his irate clients, never offering any explanation for his absence. She said when he came back in late that evening he was visibly upset."

"So? I'm sure there are thousands of people who called off work last Thursday; and he could have been upset about anything from a bad doughnut to a tax audit."

Lindsay glanced at Jaye when she laid a hand on her arm, understanding that her companion wanted to explain the underlying reason, as they saw it.

"Dolan, my aunt and his mother were in an intense romantic relationship many years ago. Gareth's father passed away early this year and they resumed contact this summer, planning to get back together permanently. He was appalled that his mother would consider a lesbian liaison, and furious that it might imperil his career aspirations. He is absolutely fixated on his political future and we don't think he'd let anything stand in his way, even if it destroyed his mother's happiness."

Lindsay watched Jaye closely, looking for any sign of embarrassment or discomfort as she related Gareth's motive to Dolan, but saw no evidence of either. She hid a smile at the startled look on the deputy's face as he listened.

"Are you sure?" Dolan ran a hand through his hair. "I just never… I mean she didn't seem…"

Smiling gently, Lindsay asked, "Seem like what?"

"I never suspected that's all. Did you know?"

Lindsay nodded. "I did. Jaye didn't."

Uncomfortably, Dolan eyed Jaye. "Um, so, how do you feel about all this?"

"I don't have any problem with it." The Canadian smiled ruefully. "At least, not now."

Sitting back in the chair, Dolan shrugged. "Neither do I, I guess. It was just a shock, that's all. Do you have any other evidence? Webster's never going to buy this."

Jaye nodded. "There's a letter in her purse in the evidence room. It verifies what we've just told you. Plus, we have dozens more at the house, all of which confirm their past relationship and intentions to resume it as soon as possible. We know they were meeting regularly this summer and planned to live together permanently once Gareth's mother could calm him down enough to accept the situation."

The deputy sighed as he lifted his cup of coffee. "Bill is still going to be a hard sell."

"Even Webster can't ignore the evidence if those fingerprints match," Lindsay interjected.

"Good point." He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, then smiled. "Think we'll do a little end run around the good sheriff. I've got a contact in the lab in Portland who owes me a favour. I'll give him a call and ask him to expedite this. He won't do it on the weekend, but it shouldn't take him long once he gets on it. I'll give you a call when I get the report."

Lindsay gave him a grateful grin. "Thanks, Dolan. I knew we could count on you."

"No problem. It is my job after all, no matter what certain parties may think." His sarcastic tone gave the women insight into his frustration with his boss. "Besides, I want Delia's killer brought to justice just as much as you two. If this guy did it, he's gonna go down for it, no matter who he is."

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

After a mostly quiet drive back from town, Lindsay looked over at Jaye as the Canadian downshifted the Jeep and made the turn into Delia's property. "You know, you have to give Dolan credit. He really maintained an open mind about all this. A lot of police officers would've jumped all over us for interfering where we didn't belong."

"Yeah, he's one in a million, that's for sure. Now all we gotta do is find someone who saw Gareth that day. My fear is that he'll wriggle out with the help of some high-priced defense attorney, so I want an iron clad case to present to prosecutors."

"Well, I think we're well on our way; and if Dolan comes through for us, we'll have the bastard nailed." Lindsay sighed as they drove up the long driveway and Delia's house came into view. "I'm sure going to miss this place. Have you decided what you're going to do with it when you go back to Toronto?"

Jaye hesitated. "I haven't really thought about it."

Seeing the troubled look on the other woman's face, Lindsay said, "I didn't mean to pry or anything."

"No. It's not that," Jaye assured her as she parked and put on the emergency brake. "There's just been so much going on, that I haven't had much time to think about anything at all."

Trailing her companion to the front door, Lindsay wondered if that included what had happened between them in the hotel room. She ached to bring it up herself, but hadn't been able to summon the courage. Where would she start? What would she say? What if she was wrong? The moment had been so intense, but so ephemeral. Shaking her head in frustration, she followed Jaye into the house and closed the door behind them.

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

The amateur detectives were forced to delay their investigations for a couple of days, reasoning that because it was the weekend, it would be hard to catch up with many of the people who might have seen Gareth. They deliberately set aside their quest and spent the next two days relaxing and getting to know each other better. Jaye spent hours showing Lindsay the sites of her childhood adventures, and in turn, the redhead began to open up about her own past, much to the Canadian's apparent delight. Both had regrets when Monday morning arrived and they had to turn their attention from each other to the task at hand.

They were up early that morning, and over breakfast they plotted their route for the day, intent on hitting every possible place that Gareth might have stopped the previous Thursday. They started out with high confidence that they would find a witness somewhere, but hours later, tired and discouraged, they pulled into Blevins' gas station located on the route to the interstate beyond the outskirts of Tucker's Way.

"Damn it," Jaye swore. "I can't believe no one saw him. In a town this size, he had to be seen. He'd stick out like a sore thumb, for God's sake, and it's not like a lot of folks drive Beamers around Tucker's Way."

Just as crestfallen as her companion, Lindsay nevertheless tried to soothe the Canadian. "If the fingerprints match, that will put him here whether anyone saw him or not. If he did it, he's not going to walk, Jaye."

"He did it. I know he did!" She slapped the steering wheel in frustration, then calmed as Lindsay covered her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. Ruefully, she said, "Have I mentioned that I don't take disappointment well?"

The redhead chuckled and withdrew her hand. Gesturing toward a group of three men sitting inside the garage next to a heater, she asked. "Shall we?"

Jaye plucked the picture from the backseat and with renewed determination in her voice assented. "Let's do it. These guys know everything that goes on in this place. If he was here, they had to have seen him."

Hank Blevins, the longtime proprietor of the dilapidated station, looked up at the women's approach and gave them a yellowed smile. "Hiya, Jaye, Lindsay. Be right with you."

Waving him back to his seat, Jaye smiled. "We're not here for gas this time, thanks." She held out the picture. "Any of you guys ever seen this man?"

Hank peered at the photo. "Not that I can recall. Why you askin'?" He handed the picture to the elderly, pot-bellied man sitting beside him.

Unwilling to blurt out their suspicions prematurely, Lindsay prevaricated. "We think he might have information relating to Delia's murder. He would've been through this way last Thursday, probably driving a dark blue, late model BMW." She waited hopefully while the men examined the photo, but her heart sank as they each looked at it and shook their heads.

When it came back to Hank, he handed it back. "Nawp, sorry, ladies. Just don't recall seeing him at all."

With an audible sigh, Jaye accepted the picture and glancing at Lindsay, reluctantly admitted, "That's it, then. We've covered the town. Might as well head home."

As they reached the Jeep, Ned White pulled up to the tanks in his rebuilt 1956 Chevy truck, his two coon dogs grinning from the bed. Despite her frustration, Lindsay couldn't help smiling at the sight. "You never see Ned without his dogs. I'll bet they even shower with him." Pleased that she'd made Jaye chuckle, she suggested, "Hey, why don't we ask him if he saw Gareth? He usually hangs out here, too."

"Might as well. It sure can't hurt. God knows we've tried everyone else."

Lindsay could hear the resignation in her companion's voice, and she whispered a quick prayer as she trotted over to where Hank was now filling up the old truck. Patting the dogs that clamoured for her attention, she greeted the grizzled trapper. "Hey, Ned, how's it going?"

Scratching his chin, the old man gave the question careful thought. "Fair to middlin', thanks. Bit of rheumatiz, but nothin' I cain't live with." Nodding his head at Jaye who had slowly followed the redhead, he said, "Damn sorry to hear about your aunt, Jaye. She was a good woman."

"Thanks, Ned. She surely was."

Lindsay took the picture from Jaye and handed it to the new arrival. "Have you ever seen this guy around here?"

Ned scratched his head and examined the photo closely. "He looks very familiar. Who is he?"

Feeling a surge of excitement, the redhead repeated her explanation, adding, "We've been showing the picture all around town today, but so far, no one's seen him."

Narrowing his eyes, Ned said, "Wait. I 'member him. I'd just come from Doc Farley's office. Had to put Old Blue down that day. 'Bout broke my heart, but the cancer was eatin' away at him, and he was in mortal pain. I stopped in to talk to the boys on my way home. That guy pulled in a few seconds after I got here. Had to be around noon or so, mebbe a little earlier. City feller...din't have no manners atall. You'da thought we was all put on earth just to serve him, the way he acted. He's in such an all fired hurry that he wouldn't even wait for his change. Gave Hank's boy a twenty for fifteen dollah's worth. Young Tommy thought he'd died and gone to heaven." The trapper shook his head in sardonic amusement. "Must be nice to have that kinda money to throw 'round."

Holding her breath, Lindsay demanded, "Are you sure it was last Thursday, Ned?"

"Ayup. I remember what day it was because your aunt was killed the same day I had Old Blue put down," the trapper stated with complete assurance.

Eyes sparkling, she beamed triumphantly at Jaye, then had to stifle an urge to hug the stuffing out of the Canadian. "I knew it! Thanks, Ned. You're a godsend!"

His weathered face creased with a smile as he absently stroked one of his hounds. "Anytime. Glad I could help."

Armed with their information, the women returned to the sheriff's office. Catching Dolan about to go out on patrol, they brought him up to date. He promised to call the moment the lab contacted him with the results, and they began the drive back to the house, content with the results of their investigations.

As they drove, Lindsay became pensive, pondering the implications of their hard work. She was keenly aware that the closer they came to bringing in Delia's killer, the shorter their time together became. She could feel Jaye's occasional glance as they traversed the distance in mutual silence, but was still unable to work up her nerve to broach the subject uppermost on her mind-was Delia's niece feeling the same odd mixture of confusion and elation that she was? All the time they had spent together over the weekend had brought them closer than she could've hoped for only a few days ago, but they had both shied away from any truly intimate conversation. Had that moment of soul-deep connection between them been in her imagination, or was it as real to the Canadian as it was to her?

Knowing there would likely be no answers for her soon, Lindsay resigned herself to yet another restless night filled with longing, turmoil, and trepidation.

Chapter Eighteen

Neither woman was up when the pounding on the door began early the next morning. By virtue of her room being closest, Lindsay made it to the door first.
Flinging it open, she had to cover her eyes to protect them from the bright morning sun. Peeking out between fingers, she saw Dolan grinning at her.

"Good morning, Lindsay. Great day, isn't it?" Dolan beamed broadly, his eyes cheerfully flicking past the befuddled woman to the other figure coming down the hall. "Morning, Jaye. 'Bout time you got up."

"What rooster bit you in the butt?" Jaye muttered, querulous at being wrenched from a marvelous dream about Lindsay in a tropical paradise. She'd been admiring the very tiny bikini her dream companion was wearing when a large, obnoxious parrot had begun tapping on their beach umbrella. She'd woken to the sound of Dolan's knocking and wasn't about to readily forgive her friend for the intrusion.

Chuckling, Dolan brushed by the women, waving a file folder in the air. "Trust me, you're gonna wanna see what I've got here."

Lindsay and Jaye exchanged puzzled glances, then trailed after Dolan as he marched down the hall toward the kitchen.

The deputy sheriff looked around hopefully. "Got any coffee in here?"

Bemused at the normally laconic man's obvious excitement, Jaye started for the coffee pot, only to be stopped by a gentle hand.

"I'll get it," Lindsay murmured, smiling. "Why don't you sit down with Dolan and see what's going on."

The brief, light touch was all it took to send a thrill rushing through Jaye's body, and she had to force herself to turn away. Joining her old friend at the kitchen table, she slid into the chair opposite him and tried to still the tingling of her nerve endings.

"So what've you got?"

"A match. I've got a match on the prints!" Gloating like he'd just won the lottery, Dolan opened the folder and snatched out the top sheet of paper. Slapping it down in front of the Canadian, he pointed at the summary paragraph.

"We've got the bastard, Jaye. Two complete and one partial on the window ledge, and an almost perfect set on the car's passenger side rear door handle. Identical match with the glass you gave me. My buddy at the crime lab faxed the report to me late last night."

Jaye hooted victoriously as Lindsay joined them, leaning over the other woman's shoulder to read the summary for herself.

"We got 'im! All right!"

Jaye and Dolan exchanged high fives as Lindsay laughed delightedly. Elated, the Canadian asked, "What's next?"

Dolan sobered rapidly. "Well, there's a fly in the ointment."

"Let me guess," Jaye snorted. "Its name is Bill Webster."

"Got it in one. Yeah, once I had this report, I got Ned White to sign a statement swearing to his identification of Edwards on the day of the murder. Then I took all the evidence to the sheriff at his home, including the letter from your aunt's purse." The deputy shook his head in disgust. "All he did was rake me over the coals for having the nerve to go off on my own. Wouldn't even stop rantin' long enough to look at what I had. Told me if I didn't stop defying his authority, I could damn well look for a job as the school janitor."

Jaye shook her head in exasperation. "Bloody idiot! All he cares about is his image. God forbid he might actually solve a crime!"

"Oh, Dolan, I'm so sorry," Lindsay exclaimed. "We never meant to get you in trouble with this."

"Aw hell, if doing my job right is gonna get me in trouble, then I'm in the wrong job anyway." Dolan's chin jutted pugnaciously and Jaye recognized the familiar sign of obstinacy in her old friend. "That jackass' ineptitude isn't going to mess things up this time. I've got a friend in the Portland DA's office, and I've already talked to him. He wants me to bring everything we have on Edwards to a meeting this afternoon. If he likes the look of it, he'll convince his boss to issue a warrant that the Boston PD can execute. With the solid evidence we have, we'll get that murderer extradited to Maine in no time to stand trial. I could use your testimony at the meeting, though, 'cause it isn't gonna be easy convincing the DA to go after one of Boston's leading citizens."

"We're with you."

Jaye glanced up, seeking confirmation of her words from Lindsay. She was rewarded with a reassuring smile.

"Of course we'll go." Warm eyes regarded Jaye affectionately as Lindsay softly added, "Besides, we have a promise to keep, remember?"

Overcome with emotion, Jaye simply nodded. She was profoundly moved that Lindsay took her promise to Delia as seriously as she herself did. She wouldn't have expected less from the compassionate woman, but the redhead's unwavering loyalty, and her acceptance of a ghostly presence she couldn't even see, still touched her deeply.

Dolan was looking from woman to woman in confusion. "Promise?"

Lindsay shook her head. "Private matter. Don't worry about it." Briskly, she patted Jaye's shoulder. "I'll be ready in ten."

Two sets of eyes followed her as she left the kitchen.

"Good woman," Dolan said approvingly. "I'm sure glad we have the evidence to clear her once and for all."

"Yeah, me too," Jaye agreed, standing up. "I'd better get a move on too. Help yourself to the coffee. Should be just about ready."

Returning to her room, the Canadian's thoughts turned to Patricia. This was going to be one of the hardest days of that elegant woman's life, and she hoped that her and Lindsay's presence would help ameliorate the pain.

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

Jaye shifted uneasily in her chair, her eyes sweeping the dark-paneled office as she half-listened to Dolan's friend, Clint Rouen, debate with the district attorney, Samuel Bradley. When they first arrived in Portland, Clint had listened carefully to their story and examined all the evidence. Convinced there was a case, he had taken them to meet his boss.

Initially the second meeting had not gone well, as the DA, a corpulent, sharp-eyed man, had evinced strong reluctance to indict Gareth Edwards, particularly when he heard the putative motive for the crime. His distaste for the interference of amateurs had been clear from the beginning, and his attitude towards Lindsay and Jaye had been dismissive at best. However, with backing from Rouen, Dolan had carefully laid out the circumstances, including the forensic evidence. Now, Bradley was sitting upright and paying close attention.

The Canadian could see the DA practically salivate over the promise of the high-profile case. She knew he was well aware of the career enhancing potential of such a conviction. The motive, which the attorney had initially dismissed as unsavory, now sounded like a prime ingredient for a sensationalistic, headline-grabbing coup. Even if the ultimate aim was the capture and conviction of her aunt's murderer, Jaye found the meeting increasingly repugnant. She hated to think of what effects the lurid, invasive publicity would have on Patricia.

Finally losing patience, she spoke up. "Are you going to issue a warrant for his arrest or not, Mr. Bradley?" Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lindsay smother a smile and Dolan roll his eyes.

The DA looked at her patronizingly. "Now, now, Miss MacLaren, we can't just rush into this willy-nilly. We have to ensure that all the 'i's are dotted and the 't's are crossed first."

"But you will eventually issue that warrant?" Jaye persisted, determined to pin the slippery man down to an answer.

Dolan laid a soothing hand on her arm. "Gareth isn't going to get away with this, Jaye."

Lindsay joined in. "Of course he isn't, Jaye. After all, the press would have a field day if they heard that a murderer got off just because he had political connections."

Jaye almost laughed out loud at the instant alarm on Bradley's face, and inwardly she saluted her quick-witted friend.

"Now, now, there's no question that anyone's going to get away with anything." Bradley turned to his assistant, who had been listening intently.
"Clint, what's your opinion on this? Do we have enough to convict?"

Rouen nodded. "I believe so, yes. They've laid a solid foundation, and I don't doubt that once we get our people on it, we'll be able to lock it up. I recommend that we at least pull him in for questioning."

Bradley pursed his lip in apparent deep thought, but Jaye could tell from the gleam in his eye that it was already a go. Standing, she nodded at the men. "If you'll excuse us, we have things to do. Dolan has our contact information whenever you need to get hold of us."

Lindsay rose silently and followed her companion out of the office. As they walked down the hallway, Jaye apologized. "I'm sorry if I was abrupt, but I really think we should get on the road as soon as possible. It's a couple of hours to Boston, and we're going to need time to prepare her for what's about to happen."

"I know." Lindsay bit her lip. "Do you think she'll try to warn Gareth before the warrant is served?"

"It's a risk, but one I think we should take. It'll only be a matter of a couple of hours anyway, and I don't think Gareth would even run. I get the feeling that Delia was an impulse killing. He's not a career criminal and he won't think like one. Even if his mother did warn him, he'd be more likely to try and ride it out."

"She probably won't believe us in any event. It's not going to be easy to persuade her that her only son is a murderer, let alone that he killed the love of her life."

There was compassion in the younger woman's voice and Jaye felt a surge of gratitude that she wasn't alone in this. She knew she'd need every bit of Lindsay's grace and tact for what was to come next.

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

As Jaye turned the corner onto the wide, tree-lined street, she noticed a white Lincoln pulling into Patricia's driveway.

"That's her," Lindsay said. She glanced across at Jaye. "Are you ready for this?"

The Canadian shook her head. They had spent much of the drive from Portland going over how to tell Patricia, but hadn't arrived at a decision. Jaye wanted to simply lay the facts out bluntly, but Lindsay favored a more subtle approach, arguing that the woman needed time to absorb and accept her son's criminal behaviour.

Steering Henri into the driveway, Jaye parked behind the Continental, acknowledging Patricia's welcoming wave. With a whispered, "Let's wing it," she climbed out of the Jeep, Lindsay right behind her.

Patricia was pulling several shopping bags out of the trunk, and the two younger women hastened to help her. With a rueful smile, she allowed them to relieve her of her burden.

"Honestly, I'm not usually such a shopaholic, but I needed something new to wear to Gareth's fundraiser next week, and I got carried away." Patricia led them up the curving brick walkway. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? I'd hoped to see you again soon, but I didn't think it would be this shortly." She opened the door and stepped aside so they could enter, adding, "Not that I'm not delighted to see you, of course. Will you stay the night with me? We could go out for dinner if you like, or stay home if you prefer."

Jaye set the bags she was carrying on the hallway floor, and Lindsay followed suit. Both women shifted nervously as Patricia looked at them curiously.

"Patricia...um, we have something serious we need to speak to you about."

Looking gratefully at Lindsay for taking the initiative, Jaye nodded her agreement.

Tilting her head inquisitively, Patricia extended a hand towards the living room entrance in invitation. "Why don't we go in there, then?" Once the three women were settled, she asked politely, "May I get you some tea, or perhaps some coffee?"

Jaye twitched uncomfortably, aware that they'd automatically taken the same seats as on their first visit. Lindsay was sitting on the couch, half-turned to face their hostess, and the Canadian was opposite them in an easy chair. The redhead reached out and took Patricia's hand. She was drawing a deep breath to begin when Jaye blurted out, "We know who murdered Delia!"

Lindsay shot her a reproving look, but quietly agreed. "We do have conclusive evidence, Patricia, and the Portland DA will be issuing an arrest warrant very soon."

Patricia drew in a sharp breath, responding gamely, "I'm glad. It was horrible enough that Dee was murdered, but to have her murderer go unpunished would've been unbearable. Tell me...who was it?"

Unable to sit still during this, Jaye sprang to her feet and began pacing. She listened as Lindsay carefully began to lay out the facts of the case.

"You know, at first we couldn't figure out who would want to kill Delia. She'd spent over forty years in Tucker's Way and knew everyone. She certainly had a sharp tongue at times, but she was a well-respected and genuinely liked member of the community."

Patricia nodded at Lindsay's statement. "I know. I simply couldn't believe it when I heard it. Who could've hated Dee so much?"

Jaye interjected, "Someone with a very personal motive."

"But..." Patricia shook her head in puzzlement.

In a level voice, Lindsay requested, "Just hear us out, okay? Let me go through the whole thing and set it out for you step by step."

With a little shrug Patricia agreed, casually extending an arm along the back of the couch as Lindsay released her hand. Ticking off the points one by one, but leaving out Gareth's name for the moment, the redhead went through the discovery of the incriminating footprints and fingerprints, access to the murder weapon, proof of a motive, and the identification of the suspect on the day in question.

"So you're saying that there's no question that this man, whoever he is, killed her?"

"None whatsoever."

"Well, who is he? And why did he do it?" Patricia looked from one woman to the other, a confused look on her patrician features.

Jaye sank to one knee in front of her. "He did it because he thought he had a lot to lose if the truth about your relationship with Auntie Dee came out. He did it because he believed that the scandal would ruin his future and his political aspirations."

Dawning comprehension broke over Patricia's face, swiftly followed by horror and denial. "You're saying you think Gareth murdered Dee? No! That's impossible! He'd never do such a thing!"

She pulled back in revulsion, sinking further into the cushions and holding her hands up as if to repudiate the accusation.

Her voice firm but compassionate, Jaye insisted. "There is no doubt, Patricia. Gareth's prints are at the crime scene, and he was positively identified as being in Tucker's Way that day. He's the only one who had a motive-to stop you and Delia from getting back together."

A strangled noise from across the room interrupted them, and Jaye whirled on one knee, shocked to see Gareth in the hall entrance pointing a gun at the trio.

"Gareth!" Patricia stood up, stepping around Jaye. "What are you doing? Put that thing down!"

"I can't, Mother. Please-step aside." Gareth was sweating visibly, red splotches prominent on his pale face, and his crisp, white shirt stained under the armpits. He waved the revolver, trying to get his mother to move out of the line of fire, but she advanced steadily towards him.

Her voice firm, Patricia reassured him. "Son, there's been some kind of mistake. We'll get all this resolved, but you need to put that away. Where in heaven's name did you get a gun, anyway? You know I don't approve of them in the house. And when did you get here? I didn't even hear you come in."

"It was Dad's gun, Mother. He knew you didn't like guns, so he kept it locked away in the basement." Gareth took a step to the side, but Patricia matched his movements, continuing to block his line of fire to the younger women. "I got here half an hour ago. You weren't home."

Jaye didn't move. She knelt on the floor in front of Lindsay, determined to protect the other woman as best she could, and felt the redhead's hand close hard on her shoulder. If only she could get close to Gareth...but he was too far across the room. She could see the gun waver in his grip, but she knew that at that range she wouldn't stand a chance; and if she were killed, Lindsay would be next. All she could do was hold her breath for the moment and hope Patricia could talk some sense into her son.

"Gareth, I know you would never do something like what they're saying..."

"I didn't want to, Mother!" Gareth wiped his sleeve over his face. "I only went there to talk some sense into her. Get her to leave you alone. Then they were driving off just as I got there so I followed them to the library. I only took the axe because I thought I could scare her a little when she came out, but then that one left and things got out of hand. I didn't mean it to happen, Mother, I swear it!"

Patricia stopped short in her tracks, the anguish apparent on her face. "Oh God, no, Gareth... Tell me you didn't kill Dee! Tell me you wouldn't do that to someone...to the woman I loved."

Even as her words begged for reassurance, Jaye knew the reality was sinking in. She shifted discreetly, drawing her leg under her in preparation, waiting for an opening as Gareth's attention was transferred to his mother.

Ignoring his mother's denials, Gareth disjointedly continued. "When Beverly told me someone had been around asking questions, I just knew it was that one from the description. I can't let them ruin things now. I've come too far...but I can fix things. I can fix everything..."

Patricia drew back in revulsion and frantically, the distraught man pleaded for understanding. "I had to, Mother! Don't you see? It would've ruined everything I've worked for...everything we've worked for all these years. I was going to put us in the White House...but you almost spoiled that."

His tone grew petulant now, angry words spitting out at his mother. "You're the perfect lady. You would've been a star on the campaign trail! But no, you wanted to throw it all away. And for what? So you could shack up? Jesus, you're not a kid! What the hell was I supposed to do? Introduce you two to everyone as my mom and her geriatric lesbian lover? For God's sake, Mother! I'd have been the laughing stock of the party. They'd never have put me on the ticket."

Patricia drew herself up regally. "I have a right to a life of my own, son. I gave up the one person I ever loved when your grandmother and father forced me to marry him to protect Delia. I wasn't going to waste the final years of my life without her." She softened her stern tone and extended a conciliatory hand towards her progeny. "We would've been discreet, Dee and I. We would've stayed out of the limelight."

"Stayed out??" Gareth's voice rose to a shriek. "There's no such thing in today's world! They'd have found you. There would've been headlines in all the major newspapers about the dyke's little boy and his foolish political dreams! They'd have laughed at me, Mother! They'd have laughed!! My life would've been ruined!"

Jaye wondered if he was going to have a stroke. She could practically see the froth around his lips and a vein was pulsing wildly in his temple. She desperately hoped he would just pass out, even if only for a few seconds, so she could get the gun away. Her hopes were dashed when he calmed himself with an effort, sucking in deep breaths and steadying the gun with both hands.

"I'm sorry, Mother, what's done is done. But don't worry; I don't blame you. Dad told me all about her kind years ago. He told me how he had rescued you after she had seduced you into her evil ways. She almost lured you back again, but I fixed that and I can fix this too. Nobody knows they're here. I just have to get rid of them and everything goes back to normal. Everything will be fine again."

Jaye wondered if Gareth truly believed that. Gazing at his eyes, she shuddered. The fanatical, faraway look in them seemed to indicate that he had disconnected from reality, which didn't bode well for her and Lindsay. She coiled her muscles, prepared to do whatever she could to at least save the woman who had come to mean so much to her in such a short time. She felt a fleeting regret for what might have been, then pushed it aside so she could focus.

"You're wrong, Gareth. The Portland District Attorney's office is issuing a warrant for your arrest even as we speak. Killing us will only add more counts to the murder indictment."

Lindsay's quiet voice startled Jaye, and she eagerly looked to see if the words had made any impact on their captor.

"No...No, you're wrong," Gareth insisted. "If I get rid of you two, I can make the rest of it go away. I know people."

"You can't make me go away, son. I know what you did, and you have to answer for it. Put the gun down." Patricia's tone was sorrowful, but implacable.

Jaye felt the fingers on her shoulder squeeze and she nodded almost imperceptibly. They were both ready to take advantage of any opportunity that presented itself, but the two main players seemed oblivious, focused only on each other.

"No, I'm not going to listen to you. You always did this to me. Made me make amends and stuff." Gareth's voice was distinctly whiny now. "Dad and Grandma never did. That's why I always went to them. They knew how to fix stuff. They'd have known how to make this right."

Patricia stood firm, her voice laced with deep sadness, but resolute. "There is only one way to make this right, Gareth. I'll stand by you. I'll testify in your behalf, but you have to put the gun down. I won't let you hurt these women."

Just then the sound of a car pulling into the driveway could be heard and Gareth swung wildly towards the door. Patricia grabbed for his hands, and the gun boomed. Jaye lunged to her feet, crossing the room in three bounds as Gareth clutched at his mother, the two of them slipping to the floor. He barely seemed to notice when the fury wrenched the gun from his hand, ejecting the clip and sliding it across the floor to where Lindsay now stood, frantically dialing the phone.

"No, Mom, no!! Mother, please...I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to, Mom." He rocked his mother in his arms, her blood staining his white shirt crimson. Looking up frantically at Jaye, he begged, "Help her! Please help her."

Tears in her eyes, Jaye knelt beside the woman, her eyes quickly assessing the damage. Patricia had taken the force of the blast full in her chest. Jaye had seen wounds like that before and knew that death would only be a matter of moments in coming. She felt Lindsay come up behind her and she looked up, shaking her head at the mute question in grieving green eyes.

Patricia tried to raise one hand...tried to say something to her son, but the vitality ebbed from her eyes and her body stilled. The detectives who had arrived looking for Gareth to execute the warrant, swarmed over the scene scant seconds later, finding him still cradling her body, muttering, "I didn't mean to, Mother. I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry, so sorry." The monotonous repetition didn't stop even when they pulled him away, giving the newly arrived EMS access to the already cooling body.

When Jaye finished giving her preliminary statement to one detective, he jerked a thumb at where Gareth was huddled against the wall, guarded by an officer as he rocked back and forth, mumbling his endless apology to his dead mother.

"Looks like a prime candidate for the loony bin. Anyway, we'll need you and your friend to come down to the station. We've got the Portland warrant, but he'll be charged and tried with this murder first before any extradition to Maine."

The detective moved away, and Jaye wearily leaned against a massive oak hutch as she watched the frenzy of activity. The crime scene experts who had been called in were snapping photographs and collecting evidence. Lindsay was still talking with the other detective, and Gareth was finally being led away in handcuffs. She closed her eyes for a moment, drained by the events of the day. Silently she mourned Patricia's death, wishing she could have done something to change what had happened, but at the same time grateful that the woman had saved them.

When exhausted eyes flickered open, Jaye started in surprise. Across the room, beyond the flurry of activity around the body, stood her aunt's shade...but this time she wasn't alone. Two old lovers, finally reunited, stood in a tight embrace. Delia sported a brilliant smile on her worn face, but Patricia's joy was moderated by the sorrowful, loving gaze she directed after her son. As Jaye watched, despondency and delight battling inwardly for ascendancy, she could have sworn that they grew younger amidst the radiance that surrounded them. Entranced, she didn't even notice Lindsay crossing the room towards her until the redhead burrowed into her arms as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Jaye wrapped her arms around the taller woman, holding her securely as Lindsay wept. She didn't interrupt, knowing that the tears were necessary, but after a long moment, she leaned up and whispered in one delicate ear.

"They're together, sweetheart."

Lindsay's head jerked up, hope in her wet eyes. "You can see them?"

Nodding, Jaye smiled. "Delia and Patricia. Together. I can see them."

She gently turned Lindsay in her arms until the other woman faced the right direction. The redhead shook her head in frustration, and Jaye knew that only she'd been gifted with the ability to see them. She rocked Lindsay gently, consoling her even as she enjoyed the warmth and softness of the other woman's body leaning back against her own.

The ghosts regarded Jaye and Lindsay, luminous smiles conferring a benediction on the younger women as they began to disappear. Jaye could've sworn her aunt winked, a slightly smug twinkle in her eye. Long after the last image had faded, the Canadian held Lindsay tight, both of them deriving comfort from the embrace.

Chapter Nineteen

Jaye squinted until the driver of an oncoming vehicle dimmed their headlights. She'd forgotten how dark the Maine turnpike was at night, lined on both sides of the highway with dense woods and an occasional 'Moose Crossing' sign.

Her concerned eyes flickered over at Lindsay, who was barely visible in the passenger seat. Jaye had been horrified by Patricia's death, but the redhead was still recovering from the trauma of finding Delia and had been hit even harder.

"Are you doin' all right?"

Lindsay smiled wanly. "Yeah. What a nightmare. I just don't know what Gareth was thinking. He must have been completely out of his mind." Shaking her head, she added, "How else could he possibly believe that he could shoot us and just walk away to continue his life?"

Grimly, the Canadian stated, "Too damn bad he didn't shoot himself and save everyone the trouble."

"Jaye!"

Jaye quickly glanced at Lindsay. "He wanted to kill us." She shuddered, remembering her fear of losing Lindsay forever at the hands of that madman.

"Don't you see? Gareth needs treatment. He's sick. You heard him. He wouldn't even shut up when the police read him his rights."

"I heard him all right." Jaye clenched the steering wheel tighter, the memory of the man's shrill and disjointed confession fresh in her mind. "He assumed we were on to him because you were at his office, so the first thing he does is go to his mother's house to get a gun to kill us. It was like three murders were nothing more to him than swatting flies."

"See what I mean? No sane person would think that killing us would automatically solve everything. He had to be crazy to think he could get away with it."

Jaye shook her head. With all that Lindsay had been through, including being charged with murdering Delia, she could still find some compassion for the actual killer, even knowing how coldly he'd planned their demise.

"I think if he's sane enough to premeditate murder, he's sane enough to stand trial. For God's sake! His whole motive revolved around his public image." The Canadian had never ceased to be amazed at the things that would drive people to murder. She had once photographed a crime scene in which a man had driven a fork through his wife's heart because she bought the wrong brand of coffee, but Jaye was unable to distance herself from the raw immediacy of Gareth's motives and couldn't help contemplating various nasty endings for the killer.

Lindsay briefly laid her hand on Jaye's arm. "But it's over now. The cop I was talking to told me that if he were found competent to stand trial, he'd be charged with involuntary manslaughter for killing Patricia. Add to that, probably second degree murder for killing Delia, and he'll be behind bars for years."

"That suits me just fine," Jaye said with great satisfaction. "It couldn't happen to a more deserving politician."

Lindsay chuckled. "You're incorrigible."

"Only…" Jaye clamped her mouth shut, finishing the sentence in her mind. When someone I care about is threatened.

"What?"

She could feel Lindsay's eyes on her, but resisted the urge to look at her. "Nothing. It was nothing, really."

Lindsay waited a beat to see if her companion would expand, then asked, "Do you think you'll see Delia any more?"

The Canadian gave that some thought, her heart still warmed by her final sight of the two old lovers. Finally, with mixed emotions, she shook her head adamantly. "No. I think she's at peace now."

"I'm glad she's not alone. I mean, I'm really sorry Patricia had to die, but I'm glad they're finally together. They were true soul mates."

Jaye shot a look at Lindsay before returning her eyes to the road and nodding. "Yes, they were." She felt an inchoate longing deep within, but shied away from trying to define it, even to herself.

Lindsay smiled in the darkness of the Jeep. "So, you are a romantic."

"Me? A romantic? Nah. You won't ever see me reading those mushy books and…"

Quiet laughter filled the vehicle. "Okay. Whatever you say."

The sound was contagious, and Jaye began chuckling. "And just what is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't think anyone but a romantic would so readily recognize those two as soul mates."

"I'd have to have been blind not to. I've never seen two people so much in love. If you could've seen them…"

Lindsay spoke softly. "I didn't need to. The way you described them was enough."

The Canadian shrugged, unsure of how to answer that. She didn't consider herself particularly romantic, but lately-every time she looked at Lindsay-she wanted to hold her and whisper endearments into her delicate ears. She wanted to taste her sweet lips...

"Jaye! You're gonna miss our exit."

Slamming on her brakes, Jaye eased the car into the exit lane. Thankful that the darkness disguised her red cheeks, she muttered, "Must be more tired than I thought."

They arrived at Delia's house a short time later, worn out from the tumultuous events of the day and the strain of repressing their escalating feelings for each other. With a bare goodnight to each other, they parted and tumbled into their beds.

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

Jaye woke early, after spending a fitful night. She lay in bed gazing at the rising sun across the calm ocean, unable to see the beauty in the orange-tinged waves and sky. It was the beginning of the end. A deep, soul-shattering loneliness threatened to consume her. Lindsay had turned her whole life topsy-turvy, and the idea of leaving the redhead filled her with despair. She fought to come up with an idea to delay their parting.

"All you have to do is tell her how you feel."

Jaye started. She'd been so deeply immersed in her thoughts that she hadn't even noticed the welcome materialization of her aunt's ghost. She smiled wistfully, delighted to see Delia again even as she balked at her relative's forthright advice.

"I'm not sure how I feel…I don't know…" Jaye shook her head in frustration.

"J-mac, what am I going to do with you?" Delia settled onto the side of the bed and gazed fondly upon her niece. "Are you going to keep fighting it until it's too late?"

"Do you have to talk in riddles?" Jaye muttered peevishly, though she knew precisely what her aunt was referring to.

Delia raised one eyebrow in a carbon copy of her niece. "No need to take that tone with me, Eeyore."

"Sorry."

Delia waved her hand dismissively, then smiled gently. "You shouldn't be afraid of love, J-mac."

Jaye sighed. "I'm not."

"Then why are you fighting so hard against what your heart is telling you?"

"You make everything sound so simple. It's not like that. God knows it wasn't for you and Patricia. Besides, I don't know how she feels."

"So that's what you're afraid of--rejection." Delia placed her finger over Jaye's lips, stilling her protest. "Let me finish."

Jaye nodded.

"Life's a gamble, J-mac. If you don't take chances, you aren't living, you simply exist; and you'll go through life unfulfilled and unhappy. I love you like my own daughter, and I don't want that for you. If you run away now, you'll always wonder about what might have been."

Jaye turned troubled eyes to her aunt. "It's not rejection I'm worried about, so much as my ability to love her like she deserves to be loved. What if I can't? It's not exactly like I have a great track record in that respect, and I sure don't want to hurt her."

"What about Lindsay? Doesn't she get any say-so?" Delia gazed at Jaye compassionately. "Nothing would make me happier than knowing my two beloved 'daughters' will find the same love that Patricia and I share."

Patricia shimmered into place next to Delia, placing a comforting hand on her lover, who concluded, "This is a decision you have to make, J-mac. Make it with your heart, and you'll be okay. I promise you, you will." She glanced up at her companion and the two women exchanged knowing grins. Turning back, Delia regarded her niece intently. "Trust yourself, dear. That's all I ask." Standing, she slipped her arm around Patricia's waist and said softly, "I have to leave you now, Jaye."

"Wait. Don't go yet." Jaye beseeched the fading figures.

Delia smiled gently. "It's time. Remember how much I love you…always."

Jaye's parting image was a vision of the two women looking lovingly at each other as they disappeared for what she knew was the final time.

*************************************************
Auburn ringlets lay disheveled across the pillow, and green eyes underlined with dark smudges gazed around the room. Lindsay was in no hurry to get up.

Would they say goodbye today?

She'd totally failed at her attempt to maintain a distance, and was completely, utterly in love with Jaye. Her infatuation with the woman that had lived in Delia's stories had blossomed, even against her will, into something wild and powerful. Desire for the Canadian burned within, but no brief affair, no matter how torrid, would slake the longing that consumed her. Nothing less than a lifetime's commitment would satisfy the bone deep yearning that suffused her.

She knew Jaye felt something for her, too. Lindsay had seen it in her eyes, but was it enough? She fought the urge to go to Jaye's room and tell her how she felt, fearing her heart would never recover from a second rejection.

Pondering her limited options, Lindsay struggled to overcome the irrational fear. I've never been afraid to take chances before, why is this time so different? She sighed, knowing the answer. She'd never been in love before. Not like this. If she lost Jaye, she would lose part of her heart and soul.

Lindsay narrowed her eyes, and fervently vowed, "If I lose you, it's not going to be because you didn't know how I felt." She grabbed the bedding to throw it aside, then suddenly froze as she heard feet padding along the wooden floor of the hallway.

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

Jaye leaned against Lindsay's doorframe, her eyes lingering on the sleeping woman as her thoughts turned inward. She'd only intended to go make coffee, but her rebellious feet had brought her to this open door, and no cool, rational logic could drag her away.

The fear that had bedeviled her-fear of Lindsay's reaction, fear of her own emotional inadequacies, even fear of loving a woman romantically-all ebbed away as her gaze caressed the disheveled red hair and the slender hand curled around the edge of the quilt. In its place, the love that had been steadily growing with every moment spent in Lindsay's presence eradicated the last remnants of doubt. A peaceful acceptance settled over her, and she welcomed the overpowering feeling that almost staggered her with its intensity.

Consumed by her own thoughts and emotions, Jaye hadn't immediately noticed that soft eyes were now focused on her. Her breath hitched as she realized she'd been caught, her heart so clearly on her sleeve that there could be no more dissembling about her feelings. Momentary panic welled, then dissipated, as she read Lindsay's unspoken welcome. Eyes that reflected her own passion...an inviting smile that echoed promises her body thrilled to...an outstretched hand that coaxed her to leave her last reservations at the door...

Never breaking their shared gaze, Lindsay sat up-slowly, deliberately, unfastening each button of her nightshirt until it hung loosely, the pale inner swells of her breasts clearly visible through the opening. Jaye felt all the moisture in her mouth dry up, and she took one stuttering step towards the bed then another, her eyes now glued to the tantalizing sight.

Moving on instinct, Jaye's trembling fingers grasped the bottom of her pajama shirt and pulled it up over her head. She was gratified at Lindsay's audible intake of breath as she fully exposed her upper body.

Ardent eyes widened, and the redhead's mouth parted slightly as she watched the other woman's slow approach.

In unmistakable overture, Lindsay drew back the quilt in invitation. Reaching the bed, Jaye sank down on the edge, drawing one leg up so that it was touching her lover's. The distance between them shrank to nothing as Lindsay leaned forward, one hand on Jaye's pajama clad thigh and the other tracing a line down her throat, across her nude torso, and around the outer edge of her left breast.

Jaye arched into the longed for touch, silently pleading for more, but Lindsay took her time, cupping and teasing the pliant flesh gently until the other woman thought she would go mad with want.

Laying one hand on Jaye's chest, Lindsay cocked her head as if listening to the thunder of her lover's heart. She smiled joyfully and slowly drew the dark head down until their lips touched.

Frozen, Jaye could do nothing but revel in the sensation as a warm tongue flicked across her lips in an undemanding request for entry. Eagerly she inhaled Lindsay's scent and the taste of her kiss. She was so lost in a sense of wonder, that she almost missed the husky words whispered into her mouth.

"I love you. I will always love you."

Tears filled her eyes, and she pulled back enough to cup Lindsay's face, her strong fingers gently caressing the delicate features.

"Oh, Lindsay, I love you too. I was such an idiot..."

"Shhhh...Nothing else matters now."

Jaye nodded wordlessly, her throat choked with emotion. Suddenly overwhelmed with the need to feel Lindsay's skin against her own, she gently pushed the other woman's shirt back off her shoulders. Shrugging out of it, the redhead tossed it heedlessly to the floor and drew herself up proudly under her lover's awed gaze.

"My God..."

Jaye was familiar with the naked female form in every media of artistic expression, but she was certain she had never seen such sheer beauty. She knew she'd never in her life been so overwhelmed with desire as her eyes took in Lindsay's nude body.

Stunned into immobility, she was only brought back to herself by the sound of Lindsay's low chuckle. Obviously deciding that her partner needed some prompting, the redhead drew Jaye down on the bed and eased on top of her lover's solid frame.

Jaye groaned at the exquisite sensation of breast against breast, then moaned even louder as Lindsay began a slow, thorough exploration of her body. She closed her eyes and simply absorbed the feelings-the suckling pressure on her rigid nipples, the fingers tracing the lines of her body, the warm, wet tongue blazing a trail straight down from her navel...

Mindlessly, she allowed Lindsay to ease the pajama bottoms off, instinctively spreading her legs as her lover slipped between them. Fingers tenderly explored her, driving her half-mad with anticipation. When finally Lindsay granted her the touch she was burning for, Jaye nearly screamed her pleasure. She was sure that relief was only seconds away, but her lover played her skillfully--bringing her to the edge only to back off-until the Canadian's hips were straining upwards, begging for the culmination Lindsay withheld.

Kept on the knife-edge of desire by a very adept tongue, Jaye was almost shocked when a tidal wave of ecstasy swept through her, leaving her limp and trembling with aftershocks. Lindsay crawled up the inert body, wrapping the other woman in a tight embrace as she nestled her head into her lover's neck. Boneless, Jaye simply remained motionless, absorbing the delicious, loving warmth.

When moments later she tried to raise up, intent on giving Lindsay the same delicious pleasure, the redhead just chuckled and murmured soothingly, "Rest for a bit. There'll be lots of time."

Jaye sank back into the bed gratefully. Lots of time. Yeah, there will be lots of time now. Lots and lots and lots of time. Turning her head to gaze down at the lithe body curled around hers, she smiled...a euphoric, blissful smile...a smile that acknowledged the absolute rightness of their union.

What God...and ghosts...hath joined together...