Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 

   Dilemma

   copyright by Joesephus

   I know Joesphus wanted these stories posted to ASSTR but lost his
password.  He was a computer Klutz.  I was going over some of his old
emails and found his password and am posting these for his fans.

   I do hope you enjoy it.  Jonnyrebel82 written 02/26/2012

   ------ Synopsis: It is said that the ability to make choices is what
separates humans from animals.  If that is true, why is making the right
choice so hard?

   ------

   Warning, this story ends exactly where it starts.  There is no sex, and
if you don't like unresolved endings, please don't read further...

   ------

   Chapter 1

   Tomorrow is my birthday, and I have the toughest decision of my life to
make.

   My whole life, and beyond, will depend on what I do.  I know what I
should do...  no, I know what she wants me to...

   Sorry, I'm a mess right now, let me start over.

   Tomorrow is my birthday and I am terrified.  I have a decision to make
and I just don't know what I should do.

   Please, tell me, what would you do?

   This all began last month when...  no, I guess it began five years ago
when I...  no, I guess the only way you can understand is to go all the way
back, back to about two months before I was born.

   My parents were new to Pflugerville, Texas, and my mother was lonely. 
Lorelei's parents were in their Lamaze class and they discovered that they
only lived about a block apart in one of the mushroom subdivisionsthat were
eating up the black land farms around Austin.  You know the kind, large
two-story houses on tiny lots in a "planned community." "Planned" meant
there was a common clubhouse and pool.  Both our families were part of the
techie migration to Austin and whoever came up with the term "yuppie" had
our parents in mind.

   Our moms became best friends, our dads became pals and Lorelei, born two
days after me, and I spent more time together than most twins.  We never
had separate birthday parties.  We went to the same daycare, the same
preschool, and were in every class together until they put us in separate
health classes in junior high.  In self-defense we became best friends
sometime before preschool.  In second grade Lorelei's father was killed in
an airliner crash.  I held her for hours as she cried.

   Her mother never re-married, and Lorelei often spent more time with dad
than I did.  I enjoyed hunting, but dad's real passion was fishing.  I'd
rather watch grass grow.  Lorelei was not a morning person, except when dad
wanted to go fishing.  Of course she had her own key before I did, so she'd
be sitting at our kitchen table "a long winter's nap" before sunrise.

   I never actually asked Lorelei out, we just started dating about the
time she decided she wanted a boyfriend.  That's the way it was, Lorelei
had a streak of steel a mile wide and 10 feet thick when it came to
determination.  If it wasn't wrapped in the most beautiful package I'd ever
seen, well...  Well, what Lorelei wanted Lorelei got and for some reason,
she wanted me.

   Don't think we didn't have other friends, we always did.  We were very
popular -- Lorelei was class president all four years in high school and we
were Mr.  and Miss PHS, prom King and Queen, all that stuff.  We both ran
distances in track and we both got caught up in the soccer craze that swept
Central Texas about the time we were born.

   We both played soccer at the University of Texas.  Lorelei had the
largest scholarship on the team.  I played on UT's club team where we won a
few national championships.  We were both in UT's prestigious Plan II
program.  Lorelei's alternate major was pre-law, I was a computer nerd. 
Halfway through our junior year we had a pregnancy scare and Lorelei
decided we needed to get married the next summer.  I guess that's where the
story really starts.

   Lorelei was the only girl I'd ever dated, the only girl I'd ever kissed
and the only girl I ever wanted to share my bed.  I was crazy about her and
to say we were happy those first two years is a world-class understatement.
The sun didn't rise in the east; it rose in the twinkle as Lorelei opened
her eyes.

   We were poor, the way only married college kids can be poor, and totally
oblivious to it.  I got a special dispensation to be admitted to UT's MBA
program.  Lorelei was admitted to UT law school.  We were a team and we
were going to change the world...  until that damned OU weekend.

   The entire second year class of UT law school was invited to spend OU
weekend in a luxury retreat owned by one of the big Texas law firms.  For
those poor souls who don't know about OU weekend, it can't be described.

   Even us Longhorns have to admit that the (begin using all the curse
words you know.  Believe me no matter how erudite, they're still inadequate
to describe those people.  Now add all the foreign curse words you know and
you still lack a sufficiently vile adjective for the...  ) Sooners do know
how to play football, but they lack the deference that is the Longhorn's
due (probably because their team is made up entirely of kids who were
raised by us...  more epithets on the heads of those traitors to Texas.) We
play the game in Dallas, halfway between the two schools, and half the
stadium is filled with (someday I'll find the words vile enough to apply to
the...  ) Sooners and the other half is filled with the pride of Texas.

   Sorry about that rant, but because of the game, you can't find a hotel
room within a hundred miles of Dallas.  The Brownian movements of both sets
of fans on Commerce Street the night before the game requires generations
of learned behavior, and woe betide the benighted who gets it wrong.

   The law firm's hotel and its services on OU weekend are beyond the
dreams of avarice of most law school students and believe me those sharks
make Scrooge look like Mother Teresa.

   Of course it's a recruiting ploy that keeps that firm at the top of the
list of UT's best and brightest, cheap at twice the price.

   On Friday night, the firm threw a party, complete with an open bar and
caviar in five-gallon buckets.

   Because my sadistic-football-hating-crone-professor from Japan actually
forced us to attend class on Friday, I wasn't going to able to leave Austin
until after four.

   Given the hoards of faithful making the trip, starting that late meant
the trip would take at least twice the normal three-and-a-half hours.  I
would miss the planned gourmet dinner, but I hoped to be there in time for
some of the dancing and the open bar.

   Lorelei had caught a ride up that morning with a professor.  Lorelei had
met him that summer when he'd co-taught a course.

   He'd just earned a fortune in some class-action suit and became a
professor.  Lorelei had been so impressed by him that she'd signed up for a
fall class.

   We were both surprised when he'd invited us to his mansion on the lake,
for dinner a week before the game.  I felt a little sorry for him, even as
I coveted his house.  He'd been divorced for a year and seemed lonely.  I
liked him, he was our parent's age, but seemed more sophisticated somehow.
As soon as he heard about my class conflict he'd offered Lorelei the ride.

   Lorelei had been bubbling when we got home.  She positively gloated
about the opportunity to pick his brain on the three-and-a-half hour drive.

   I'd no sooner sat down in class that Friday when I began fidgeting.  All
I could think about was getting to Dallas.  This was far from my first OU
game, so I couldn't understand why I was so anxious.

   About 10 minutes into the class, the prof couldn't ignore me any longer
and said, "You're as bad as my husband.  Go on, get!  Try to beat the
traffic to that silly game."

   At the time I thought "God is in His heaven and all is right with the
world." The game wasn't until the next day, but I was almost desperate to
get to Lorelei.

   I'd come to class ready to leave and I was on IH-35 15 minutes later. 
Traffic was horrible but I pulled into the hotel a little before seven just
when everyone was sitting down for dinner.

   It was even swankier than I'd dreamed, but Lorelei, sitting across a
table from her professor seemed out of kilter somehow.

   They were in earnest conversation, and she didn't see me until I put a
hand on her shoulder.  She startled and blurted out that our room had
thousand-thread-count sheets.  Then she blushed, which was so unlike her,
the suppressed panic I'd been feeling since I'd sat down in class
threatened to explode.

   Before I could ask her what was going on, the band, with a current Top
40 hit, began to play.  Her professor stood and asked Lorelei to dance.  If
I'd been asked I'd have said I didn't have a jealous bone in my body. 
Jealousy is fundamentally a lack of trust and I could no more mistrust
Lorelei than I could my elbow or my kidney.  Besides, like I said, he was
about the age of my father!

   Lorelei looked away from me and abruptly in accepted his invitation. 
Adrenalin flooded me but I still couldn't understand exactly why until I
shot a glance at them on the dance floor.  There was nothing out of the
ordinary; they weren't dancing too close or too far.  They certainly didn't
look guilty.

   But with that tiny glace, I knew that she'd slept with him.  The whole
concept was so alien so impossible, it took a hundred heartbeats to absorb
what my forebrain knew.  But, I knew it beyond the conscious level.  I knew
it the way I always had known special things about Lorelei.  I knew it to
the marrow of my bones, I knew it in my soul and I disappeared!

   I'd never believed in temporary insanity, until I was.  I'm glad I
didn't have my gun with me, because the next thing I was aware of, I was
taking it out of our bedside table.  To this day I have absolutely no
memory of leaving the hotel, Dallas or the drive back to Austin.

   Standing next to our bed, I had a mental flash of him, on top of her,
inside her.  It was so vivid I actually could feel him inside me, as if I
had a vagina!

   Trembling with unbearable pain and with fists clenched I bellowed the
unanswerable question, "WHY?"

   All my life I'd given Lorelei everything I had.  Even as kids, if
Lorelei wanted it, I got it for her and didn't count the cost.  I gave
myself completely, why wasn't that enough?

   Hot burning pain welled up from the depths of my soul.  Lorelei had
always been my comforter, the one who kissed my wounds and made it all
better.  Without thinking I grabbed my cell phone to call her.  I paused,
there were three voice mails from Lorelei.

   The first was an uncertain Lorelei asking, "Where are you?  Is there
something wrong?" The second was the steel Lorelei the one who knew I could
refuse her nothing, telling me I had to let her explain.  So ingrained were
my responses I would have, if I hadn't immediately heard the last message.
A sobbing Lorelei begged me to understand that "this" had nothing to do
with me, that we would get past it.

   Who was this woman I'd thought I knew?  I had always been able to finish
her sentences; I knew what she was going to fix for meals; I knew what
she'd wear in the morning; and I knew what fears lay in her deepest bowels.

   How could she think that this had nothing to do with me?

   Pain so sharp that clutched my chest lanced through me.  I was staggered
and I collapsed on the bed.  Was it possible that I didn't know her core?
Had I only thought I did?  She had been able to take another man into her
body and keep it from me.  I never could have done that.

   But she had.  I had no idea how long their affair had been going on...
suddenly I remembered her comment about the sheets and vomited all over our
bed.

   I don't know how long I sat in my puke.  It didn't matter.  No matter
where I looked, nothing made sense.

   I trembled with a pain so great I can't describe it.  A pain that grew
and swelled until I would have begged for death  -" if I'd known how.  A
pain that grew so great -- I blinked, and the whole world changed.

   I was suddenly aware that all my life the world had been in Technicolor
and stereo.  In that single blink of an eye it became stark black and white
and screechy monaural.  I hated it!

   I forced myself to blink again, I was desperate to try to recover what
I'd lost, but my soul had been sundered.  Looking into the depths of my
soul all I saw was molten pain flowing up from my personal hell.  I blinked
a third time and as if by black alchemy, my pain was transmuted into--
something more profound.  Something that gnawed and dissolved my very
essence.

   My phone rang, and I saw it was from her, and I froze.  By the time I
could move, the call had gone to voice mail.  Again, without thinking I
listened to the message.

   It was him, and he didn't sound suave, he sounded scared!

   "Your wife just collapsed in front of my room...  She'd been pounding on
my door, hysterical.  Look, I'm...  uh..." He paused for a long time then
continued "I think your wife is having a mental breakdown.  I'm going to
call a very good friend at Timberlawn Mental, I'm sure he'll agree to admit
her through their trauma program...  You need to call Timeberlawn...  Look,
I'm...  you need to call Timberlawn, I'll take her there, okay?"

   I didn't move, and that tore at me.  I knew Lorelei was in pain.  The
same pain I was in.  No, hers was worse because she knew she was the source
of both our pain.  All the habits of my life, all my learned responses,
urged me to go to her.

   But I couldn't.  The pain was too deep, the loss too great, the anger
too raw.  My pain had created a lava bed between us and no matter how much
I wanted I couldn't cross it.  A priceless diamond had been struck and
shattered into pieces.

   The vomit stunk.  I looked around the room and for the first time I saw
how few physical possessions we had.  I'd always felt so rich, the tiny
apartment so perfect because I shared it with her.

   With my new eyes, I saw it was shabby and filled with cast-offs from our
families.  It disgusted me.  What little luggage we owned was in Dallas, I
got a garbage bag from the kitchen and threw in all my remaining clothes.
There weren't that many and I left.

   I think I went insane again, or whatever you call it.  I remember
flashes of stopping for gas, for a quick meal at a drive through, taking a
nap at a rest stop, but my next clear memory was sitting in my car looking
out at the ocean and not having any idea where I was...  or even what ocean
I was looking at.

   I had a vague memory of heading towards Houston, but this didn't look
like the gulf.  Only the tip of the sun, straight in front of me was
visible.  I didn't know if it was rising or setting but I figured I was
someplace on the east or west coast.

   As I sat there, it gradually became lighter and I decided I was on the
east coast, but in my current mood, that was the extent of my curiosity. 
I'm not sure just how long I sat there, but as the sun rose its heat burned
off my mental fog.  My car was trashed with the jetsam of fast food meals
consumed without tasting them.  My cell phone was hiding in a discarded
32-ounce cup.

   For the longest time I actually tried to retreat to wherever I'd been
when I drove here, but in the light of the new day, I couldn't.  I was only
a hollow shell of a man, but what I had left was awake and aware.

   As I sat there, I understood that if I was to go forward it had to be
without Lorelei, and that was so unfair.  Perhaps a better man could have
done something different.  Perhaps if I'd had more courage I might have
been able dash into the burning shell of our marriage to salvage something.
Perhaps if the pain had been less I might have been able to at least face
her.

   But I was the man she'd left me, I ran.

   I called our family lawyer.  His secretary, who I'd known all my life,
gave me a cheery "Good Morning," so I knew the weekend was over, and I
asked for Mr.  Murdock.  When he came on the line I told him I needed to
have divorce papers drawn up served and that I would tell him were to send
my copies as soon as I knew where I'd be.

   I do believe I'd still be on the phone if my battery didn't start
announcing its imminent death.  I almost shouted,

   "If you can't do this Mr.  Murdock, I'll call someone else as soon as I
get my phone re-charged."

   Mr.  Murdock is a nice man, but no shark can resist fresh kill and he
agreed just before my line went dead.

   An incredulous clerk at a gas station told me I was in Jacksonville,
Fla. I'd never been there, and unless it's at gunpoint, I'll never go back.
Oh, I'm sure it's a wonderful place, but I have no desire to ever visit the
darkest time of my life again.

   I found I-95 and I headed north for my new life.  Someplace in South
Carolina, I plugged my phone in to re-charge.  Someplace in North Carolina
I called my folks.  Dad wasn't home and mother was frantic.  After she
established that I was safe, Mom started telling me about Dad going to get
Lorelei from Timberlawn.  Just hearing her name was a bolt pain so severe I
almost lost control of my car.  I told Mom that I couldn't bear to hear her
name again.  She used it again, I hung up and turned my phone off.

   I took a wrong turn at Chester, Pa., but didn't know it until I saw the
signs for the Pennsylvania turnpike.  I pulled into a gas station and my
card was declined at the ATM.  I shrugged and drove around looking for help
wanted signs.  I found one flipping burgers before I ran out of gas.  I
explained my situation to the manager and I lived off the menu, and in my
car until I got my first check.

   I called Mr.  Murdock as soon as I found a place to send papers and he
still wouldn't believe that Lorelei had cheated on me.  Still, he did file
the papers and since I was an old family friend, it only cost me more than
I would make in a month flipping burgers.

   My parents were worse.  They wouldn't even listen to my accusation.  I
finally told them to ask her.  After that, Dad wanted to know what I'd done
to make her vulnerable, and Mom wanted me to talk to her, forgive her.  I
tried to tell them I couldn't.

   I explained that just hearing them say her name was giving me all the
symptoms of a migraine, it even made my teeth hurt.  I begged them not to
say her name again, Dad did, I hung up and threw my phone in the first
river I passed.

   From a pay phone, I called the Dean at UT to make arrangements to
withdraw from school, and I was allowed to do so without prejudice.  What
that means is if I ever want to go back to Austin, I can finish my MBA at
UT...  it doesn't mean I got any of my money back.  It also meant that the
clock was ticking on my six month's grace on my student loans.

   It took almost a month, but I found a good job working for a software
security company.  It was fascinating.  This wasn't a virus-of-the-hour
type company, we were concerned with encryption, codes and ciphers as well
as physical security.  We were in the business of protecting secrets and
high-value data.

   It was only when I received my copy of the signed papers that I realized
that Lorelei had never tried to call me.  I wouldn't have answered, but
after those three calls that night, she'd never tried to contact me.  When
I thought about it, I realized she understood me, even if I hadn't
understood her.

   I don't know if you've ever been alone, but I never had.  Lorelei had
always been part of me and I'd always been close to my parents.  Now, I
wished I wasn't an only child, that there was some one in this world that
would be on my side, and there wasn't.  It was just before Thanksgiving,
and I spent the entire holiday season trying to keep my soul from turning
to black ice.



   ------

   Chapter 2

   On a Friday two weeks after my divorce was final, I started my day at a
fertility clinic, checking on their installation.  Suddenly, I saw
"Lorelei" on a patient chart.  I felt the same bolt of pain and it was only
by the barest of margins that I avoided spewing.  Of course it wasn't her,
but I've never known another Lorelei, which wasn't surprising.  Her parents
had picked the name because it was number 1000 on Social Security's list of
the top 1000 names for girls.  I'd never been as low as I was at that
moment.

   I'd never known it was possible to be so depressed or so alone.  The
only person in Texas who knew where I was, was Mr.  Murdock.  Thinking
about it, I guess even he didn't know exactly where I was.  Because
although I'd made him swear not to tell anyone, he thought I was in
Pittsburgh.  I was actually living a mile from the King of Prussia Mall
near Philadelphia.

   It was a cold wintry day, but I wasn't really aware of it, my soul was
darker and colder.

   "I'm going to die in a couple of months if I don't get a heart
transplant.  I'm not depressed, what's your excuse?"

   I turned around, and I blinked.

   There in front of me, was the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.  How
could anyone's smile be both dazzling and inviting?  You've heard the
expression "she had inner glow?" This woman did, its effect was ethereal. I
can't say that suddenly there was color in the world again, but for the
first time since Dallas, I knew color existed.

   Have you ever had a private meeting with someone great?  I mean like the
President or the Pope, someone like that?  I met the Pope once, before he
was the Pope.  I'm not Catholic, but my parents, Lorelei, and her mother
were "doing" Italy shortly after her father was killed.  We were touring
the Vatican and although we weren't Catholic, Lorelei's father's family had
some sort of connection to him.  I suppose because of the manner her father
had been killed, a nameless family member thought it might help to have a
private meeting.  I don't know a thing about the man's dogma or doctrine,
but I do know that he had a special aura about him.

   I felt the same thing about this woman and was wondering why, when,
still smiling she said, "I'm going to let you take me to dinner tonight. 
You can pick me up at 6:30 and I'll tell you where we're going then.  That
will give you time to prioritize you demons and we can begin slaying them
one by one."

   I think it's the English who use the expression "gobsmacked." I'm not
sure exactly what it means, but that's the way I felt.

   "Why on Earth would you want to have dinner with me?" I blurted before I
could get my brain engaged.

   "Why, because you're quite the most interesting man I've met in ages,
and no one should look as desolate, as forlorn, as you do on such a crisp
new day.  Look at how blue the sky is!  We haven't seen that color in
months.  That's the promise of new life, of Spring.  You're at a place
where life begins.  How can you help but feel the joy of that new birth?"

   Frankly, I'd thought the place depressing, all those couples so
desperate to have a kid, clutching at this last exorbitant shot.  I later
wondered why I knew she wasn't married, and that she was here as a patient,
but at the time all I could do was say, "I don't think I'll be good
company, but I'd love to take you to dinner."

   She cranked a few hundred more megawatts into her smile and in the
kindest voice said, "Thank you so much, I didn't want to eat alone
tonight."

   As impossible as it seems I knew that she was grateful, that even though
the privilege was mine she didn't see it that way.  I was about to ask her
name when the nurse said, "Cindy Ahren, we're ready for you now?"

   Suddenly, she grabbed my hand, her grip was fierce, lowered her head,
closed her eyes and mumbled something I couldn't hear.  A dozen heartbeats
later she  -" embraced me  -" I don't know a better word, it wasn't a hug
and it wasn't passionate, but it was as intimate as making love, and she
left.

   I watched her leave and it took several seconds to realize that while I
knew her name, I didn't know how to contact her.  I could look it up in the
clinic's computer, but that was a horrible breach of ethics.  Besides, I'd
finished my call and I didn't actually have an excuse to start probing.

   Frozen in indecision I smiled, involuntarily, when Cindy burst back out
the door and said, "A-H-R-E-N, I'm the only Cindy Ahren in the book, I
think I'm the only Cindy Ahren in the world" and she was gone again.

   Think of the clichÃ(C)s, "The weight of the world had been lifted off my
shoulders." "The clouds of gloom had parted." "There was a new bounce in my
step." Well the weight had been lifted, the gloom had parted and I did
leave with a new bounce in my step.

   Even the office seemed different.  People were smiling at me, and I
don't remember anyone doing that before.  My MS Outlook showed a dozen
calls I needed to return and even more e-mails.  The first time I was put
on hold, I used the time to find Cindy.  I'd been intrigued by her comment
and I discovered that Yahoo people search only showed 43 Ahrens in the
whole country.

   I'd just found her name and was copying her address and number when my
boss popped into my cubical and asked if I would come by his office for a
few minutes when I got off the line.

   When I arrived, he asked me to close the door and said, "Chris, first
let me tell you that you're doing a great job.  Even in this group of prima
donnas, your work stands out, but I need to ask a hard question.

   "One of the reasons I hired you was that you listed several interesting
awards you got in high school.  I won't say that all of us were geeks in
school, but I expected to be able to move you into a sales engineer slot.
Like I said, your work here makes you a valuable member of our team, so I
don't care if you used some puffery when you filled out your application,
but I would like to know why."

   It took me a few seconds to understand that he thought I'd made up the
Mr.  PHS and Prom King.  Frankly, I didn't remember putting that on my
resume, and I can't imagine why I did.

   "Those are true, I suppose I could get my mother to mail my old high
school year book, if you'd like."

   His eyes narrowed, "Chris, I know you're brilliant, but you've never
shown any hint of the sort of people skills that I'd expect from someone
who was popular in high school..."

   His voice trailed off and before I was aware of it, the story of Lorelei
and me, came bubbling out, but I never said her name.  Even so, it hurt, I
did everything but weep.  When I'd finished I could see the sympathy in his
eyes.  I wasn't sure I wanted it, but I felt better.

   "You've never spoken to her at all?"

   "It wouldn't make any difference.  She never called me, but even if I
could forgive her, how I could never trust her.  I didn't think it was
possible for her to lie to me, and yet she was able to have an affair and I
didn't have a clue.  How do I know she wasn't back at his room for more? 
She might still be rutting with him, I just know that if she cheated once
she could do it again."

   I snorted, "Besides, if just reading her name gives me a migraine, what
do you think talking to her would do to me?"

   He didn't offer me the sales job, and he didn't mention getting
professional help, but in the material he gave to look over was a copy of
our health care coverage.  The section on counseling coverage was
highlighted.  There was also a sheet that told me what I'd make if could
earn the position.  I was stunned.  I had no idea salesmen made that kind
of money.

   The rest of the day was one of the strangest of my life.  I'd been
operating on autopilot for so long that I had trouble doing the simplest
task.  If you've ever seen one of those old movies where they show double
images to indicate a fellow's drunk, I think that's something like I was
experiencing.  Everything was familiar, and new at the same time.

   As soon as I could get away, almost six, I rushed home and didn't have
time to give my grooming more than a lick and a promise before I was
driving to Cindy's.  Even so, I was a few minutes late when I rang her
apartment and she buzzed me in.  It was on the fourth floor, and as I rode
the elevator it suddenly dawned on me that I was going on a date, and I
still hadn't asked a girl out.

   The thought sent an icy chill through me, in fact I might not have
gotten off the elevator if Cindy hadn't been standing right in front of it
when the doors opened.  I took one look at her and exclaimed, "My God,
you're beautiful!"

   When she smiled I noticed for the first time that she had three dimples,
one on each side and the cutest little one on her chin.  She lightly tapped
my nose with her index finger, "My dear Chris, you should never use the
Lord's name when you're fibbing.  It makes it into a whole different
category of sin you know.  Besides, I'm not sensitive about how I look. 
The puffiness and splotchy skin are effects of my heart.  I'm probably
carrying ten or fifteen pound of excess fluid too, but I soooo appreciate
your effort."

   She hooked her arm in mine and led me back into the elevator.

   "I'm going to let you splurge tonight.  You have your choice of where
we're going.  There's a wonderful family-style Italian place not far from
here.  But if you want to go first class, we can chow down on the most
delicious hoagies and cheese-steaks in the city, that is if you're up to
it."

   The hard crust they use up here on their sub sandwiches is an acquired
taste, so I automatically chose the Italian.  But this was the second time
she'd said something about her heart.  I'd blown it off at the clinic,
because who went to a fertility clinic if you needed a heart transplant.

   I opened my mouth to ask but she shook her head gently and said, "Not
yet Chris, wait until we're at the restaurant, then we can swap life
stories to see who can out-sad the other." Her eyes did something that
actually made them sparkle and with a gamin smile she continued, "Since the
first liar never stands a chance, you have to go first."

   As we walked to my car we talked about nothing, sports I think, Cindy
loved every one of the Philly teams, but hockey was her first love.  I knew
about as much about hockey as Cindy did about rodeo, a secret passion of
mine.  But as she talked about last night's hockey game I hung on every
word.

   At the restaurant she drew me out between placing our orders and the
arrival of the soup.  For the second time I told my life's story and
tragedy.  I even told her about my reaction to the name.  I let her see my
anger.  I let her see my pain.  Somehow, it didn't hurt as much as it did
earlier.  Holding her hand across the checker tablecloth might have had
something to do with it.  I do know that when I got to the end, I felt
better.

   If this morning had been a dam bursting, telling Cindy was bathing my
pain in a soothing balm.  I hadn't realized just how jagged, how raw, my
wounds were until I felt her gentle probing.  Gentle she was, but also
persistent.  She was a surgeon making sure that all the detritus that might
prevent healing was cleaned out.

   When she was finished scourging at the last of my malignancies, I sat
back with a deep sigh.  I felt better than I had since I walked into class
that Friday afternoon.  Besides, the meal had been the best Italian I'd
ever had, no question about it, I needed to try some places other than
"Olive Garden." This stuff was good, even if I wasn't sure what I'd eaten.

   Cindy was leaning forward over the table, still holding my hand, her
eyes glistened and if she hadn't been smiling so broadly I'd have thought
she was on the verge of tears.

   I pulled myself together after she ordered some desert and said, "Now
you've got my whole sad story, I need to know what all this talk about your
heart is about.  I need to know just what sort of girl I'm getting involved
with..."

   She interrupted me, "Oh, we're getting involved are we?  I suppose that
means our next date you'll have to take me home to meet your folks.  This
whole thing has to be killing them, 'your ex' was a daughter to them wasn't
she?"

   Shouldn't it take more to rip off a case-harden, tempered steel scab? 
But to my amazement, it had been done so quickly and skillfully it didn't
really hurt.

   "Yeah, we both had three parents.  We both called my mom, 'Mom' and her
mother is 'Momma.' Dad is 'Dad' to both of us but hers was 'Daddy' to us
both until he was killed.

   "I haven't talked to them since I got here, except once, they wanted me
to see her and I just couldn't.  It really hurts to know that your own
parents aren't on your side.  I'm not sure I'm welcome home..."

   "We might wait a few weeks for the 'meet the parents trip' then.  What
did they say about the knife you left in her professor's door?"

   I blushed.  I hadn't meant to tell her that.  I don't know when I did
it, but I'd driven my 5-inch-blade hunting knife to the hilt in his solid
wood front door.  Mr.  Murdock told me it had, "caused him considerable
mental anguish." I guess it was a good thing he was in Dallas fucking my
wife at the time.

   I felt bile forming in my mouth until I looked at Cindy and my anger
just sort of leached away.

   "That's the last diversion, Cindy.  I need to know about you... 
everything about you.  I don't know how you've gotten me talking about
myself like this, but I'm not saying another word until you let me hear
your story."

   She gave me a lopsided smile.  "A while ago I got my life long wish to
do some work in sub-Sahara Africa.  I managed to get some exotic dreadful.
It's attacking my heart.  I'm suffering congestive heart failure, but it's
not a serious as I made it sound this morning."

   "So why were you at a fertility clinic?"

   She blushed, "I want children and my prospects don't look all that
great. I'm right at the end point where I can take any sort of fertility
drug to induce ovulation.  I wanted some of my ovum on ice, just in case.
This is so embarrassing, we've never kissed and here I am talking about
babies."

   But she wasn't blushing, she was smiling...  she just glowed.

   "Are you really waiting for a heart?"

   "Yeah, it's a possibility, but I'm not very high on the list.  At my
age, I'll move up quickly if it looks like that's the only option.  So what
were you doing at the clinic?  Are you on the list of anonymous donors I
can pick from?"

   I've never blushed much, but this time I turned a vivid shade.

   "NO!  I'm a computer nerd, I was just there checking on our security
software.  Part of my job is to make sure that those who want to be
anonymous really are..." I started to say, "If I ever have kids, I want
them the old-fashioned way," when I realized that she wouldn't have been
there if there was much hope that she could ever do that.

   I changed the subject with a few questions about hockey and the rest of
the evening evaporated.  Before I said goodnight we'd agreed to meet for
breakfast.  By the time I said goodnight on Saturday, I'd agreed to meet
her at her church on Sunday.

   I've never been a churchgoer.  My father was a Presbyterian who got mad
at some of the social positions of the church, and my mother was a
non-active Lutheran.  We went on Christmas and Easter.  I went to
confirmation class, but we spent most Sundays at soccer games or
tournaments.

   Even if I had been a regular, I would have been nervous about going to
church with Cindy, she was preaching!  She was actually Dr.  Cindy Ahren, a
fully ordained Methodist Elder.  Her work in Africa had been as a teaching
missionary in an African seminary.  She also taught classes in pastoral
theology at The Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia.  At 29, she
was by far the youngest teacher there, but even a blind man could see there
was something special about her.

   I'd "girded up my loins" to praise a sermon I couldn't begin to follow.
But instead of a sermon, she just talked about the role of hope in
day-to-day living.  She gave a few examples from her "real" job as a
chaplain at the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia.  Children's is the No.
2-ranked children's hospital in the country, which means there are some
pretty horrible cases there.

   By the time church was over, I was intimidated.  I'm reasonably smart,
but I certainly wasn't in Cindy's class, and I wasn't comfortable with the
idea of dating a minister.  I mean if we got serious, I'd be the preacher's
wife!  I didn't know much about church, but I did know that the parties
preachers got invited to didn't get going until the preacher, and his wife
left!

   I thought about sneaking out one of the back doors, but there were just
too many people who wanted to "welcome" me to their church.  By the time I
could break away, I found myself trapped in the exit line.  When I reached
the front door I wasn't sure exactly what I was suppose to say.  "Good
sermon" seemed a bit week for someone I'd spent the most of the last 48
waking hours talking to.

   I didn't get the chance to say a word.  Cindy embraced me again and this
time she kissed me on the cheek.

   "We're going to lunch with their Lay Leader and her husband," she said.
"It's sort of tradition for visiting pastors.  Just pretend you like
wherever they take us and I'll make it up to you later."

   I should always suffer such a fate!  They took us to Moshulu.  It was my
first visit to that Philadelphia institution.  The food was a bit "trendy"
for my simple taste, but the view was to die for, and I found that anywhere
I was with Cindy was just plain fun.  I'd never been around anyone so full
of joie de vivre.  After lunch she took me to the Franklin Institute
another place I'd managed to miss in my months in Pennsylvania.  When I had
to take her home I was hooked.  Being around Cindy was like being around a
massive generator, her life energy crackled and you couldn't help but be
energized by her.

   The next few months were a positive orgy of that energy.  I literally
spent every minute I wasn't at work or sleeping  -" alone -- with her.  We
even went grocery shopping together.  We met for coffee or breakfast before
work, and I ate lunch with her every day I could get away from my desk. 
After work I'd drive straight to her place or mine.

   We went to all the tourist sights that the area had to offer.  I
especially came to love the Washington Crossing State Park in Bucks County.
I'm not sure why I'd never seen that awesome painting of that event, but I
could sit in that auditorium and stare at it for hours.

   Oh, I know that it's terrible history.  I mean the crossing was at night
for Pete's sake.  Still, there's so much in that painting that I think
we've lost.  What is it about modern society that is more interested in our
hero's foibles than in what makes them great?

   A culture is defined by its legends and who it holds up as heroes.  I
worry that in looking at all the flaws in ours that we're like that story
of the 10 blind men and the elephant.  We study the flaws in a brick and
miss that it's part of the Jefferson Memorial.

   When I saw the sights with Cindy, I found I was looking at the bigger
picture.  Much of the emphasis of Washington Crossing Park now is on the
wonderful trails and the creatures that make it their habitat.  I mean
that's nice, especially for those who live in our high-density urban areas.
Still, doesn't it miss the point of why that park is there in the first
place?  A small group of men overcame horrible conditions, took incredible
risks and against all odds preserved the struggle for freedom that gives us
all we have.

   I think another reason that I'll always love that park is that it is
where Cindy first gave herself to me.  It was late on a Saturday afternoon.
No, we didn't have sex in public.  Instead we'd been walking on one of the
trails that follow the river and she suddenly staggered like drunk over to
a bench.  Concerned, I sat and put my arm around her.  Without a word she
snuggled into me.  Cindy has a unique talent.  When she snuggles the
physical composition of her bones change into something soft and completely
pliable.  Her body conforms to me in impossible ways and I know that there
are no barriers.  This wasn't the first time we'd snuggled, but this time,
within seconds of sitting down, Cindy was fast asleep.

   It's when I learned that Cindy has two speeds: wide open and prefect
rest.  By allowing me to see her weakness she was allowing me to understand
just how sick she was.  She'd taken that walk knowing she couldn't finish
it, that she'd have to sleep to give her heart time to recover.  She knew
that I'd understand, and I did.

   As I sat there holding her and looking at river, my body was at rest but
my mind raced.  I knew I'd become obsessed with her; I mean I woke up
thinking about her and she was my last thought when I fell asleep.  But
lately they'd been weird thoughts.  For example, I'd fallen asleep last
night wondering if she was a saint.

   I don't mean just a good person but someone like a young Mother Teresa.
I didn't know a thing about saints, but I did know that they had something
special and I was far from the only one who saw that Cindy was special.

   When I went to Children's Hospital with her, you'd have thought she was
a visiting rock star, only accessible.  Whenever she'd stop moving, people
would pop out of the woodwork to talk to her.  Not just children, doctors
and nurses would practically run down the halls to exchange a few words
with her.

   She had something special, but I couldn't figure what it was.  Oh, I
felt the same attraction but even though I prided myself on my cool
analytical nature, its quality eluded me.

   I also didn't understand how she always managed to make me feel like the
center of her universe.  Even when she was is earnest conversations with
those who encircled her, I knew she was completely aware of me.  I
understood that part of it was that she would constantly make eye contact
with me, gauging my mood, my level of comfort with whatever she was doing.
Part of it was the little hand pats or squeezes she'd give me as she talked
to others.  Still, given the level of attention she gave others, it
shouldn't have worked.

   Then there were the things people talked about with her in my presence.
Children talked about dying or living the rest of their lives with horrible
disabilities.  Doctors and nurses talked about the stress in their lives
caused by treating those children and the affect on their private lives.  I
never knew how emotionally devastating it was on the medical professionals
to lose one of those children, or how much they loved them, despite their
attempts at "professional detachment." I know some of those professionals
had never shared their deepest pain, even with their spouse, but they
shared them with Cindy, in front of me, in open corridors!

   I'll never forget the doctor who wept as he talked about cheating on his
wife.  There were three or four others encircling Cindy and me when he
began pouring out his story and exposing his guilt.  The others stood there
in open-mouthed shock and I wondered how long it was going to take the
rumor mill to grind this juicy morsel.  He didn't care; he needed to
confess.  Cindy didn't let him off easily either.  I don't mean that she
berated him, but before he left he had a list of difficult steps he needed
to take to try to atone for what he'd done to his family.  Incredibly, he
thanked her and any fool could see that he'd left a burden in that short
talk.

   As I sat on that bench, holding her on the day before my 26th birthday,
I knew I needed to make a decision.  If I didn't pull back from Cindy soon,
I never would.  Lorelei had hurt me more than I thought one human could
hurt another without spilling blood, or maybe with it.  Yet, if I continued
with Cindy, I knew she would hurt me more.  Oh, she'd never cheat.  The
Pope would convert to being a Baptist first.  No, as I held her, I was
unable to ignore just how sick she was, I knew that she'd leave me in a
different way.  I wondered if I could distance myself now so that if she
died it wouldn't leave me an emotional cripple.

   As I contemplated that probability I clutched her too me, I literally
couldn't stand the thought that I might lose her an instant sooner than I
had to.  I'd been a bit too fierce and Cindy stirred in my embrace.  She
snuggled her cheek against my chest and said, "Mmmm, I love you."

   If leaving hadn't been a forlorn hope before, I knew I knew it was
impossible now.  We'd never talked about love or our relationship that way.
I looked down at her and she was still asleep.  I felt tears trying to
form; I had refused to acknowledge that I might be falling in love with
her. How could I have been so blind?  A solid wave of emotions roiled over
me.

   Incredibly, one of the more powerful was a sense that I was somehow
being disloyal to Lorelei.  That was quickly subsumed by rage at what she'd
done to me.  Cindy stirred again, almost as if she could feel my turmoil.
My unconscious reflex to her discomfort was to suppress my anger and
mentally force each of my muscles groups to relax.  Preserving her peace
was far more important than the satisfaction of yet another tired rant.  It
was only months later that I realized that my decision spoke silent volumes
about the true state of my feelings.

   At the time I just knew I really couldn't just walk away.  I understood
that the time to leave had passed unnoticed.  This wonderfully strong
woman's fragility had become interwoven in me.  I felt Cindy relax back
into that boneless, totally vulnerable state in my arms, and I felt a
warmth suffuse gently to my core.  She trusted me to protect her, and I'd
do whatever I could to be worthy of that trust.  But no sooner had I
completed that thought that I realized I couldn't protect her from what was
killing her.

   Before I had time to brood on that depressing thought, Cindy awoke. 
Without a single word, she stood, flexed and started to drag me back to the
energetic strolling she'd been putting me through before her collapse.  I
stood, caught her hand and gently drew her to me.  We stood there, under a
canopy of the old trees that lined the path.  The river swirled and eddied
and the clouds danced on a gentle breeze in an azure sky.  Cindy looked up
at me and I looked through eyes that perfectly matched the color of the
sky, and into the soul behind them.

   "I think you're becoming important to me.  Cindy," I told her "I never
thought I'd let anyone get close to me again.  But we never really talk
about your heart, and I can't pretend to ignore it any more.  I've had
nightmares where I used my key to walk into your apartment and I find you,
and you're gone.  I can't stand the thought of losing you and I won't
without one hell of a fight.  Temple University Hospital is just about the
top heart transplant hospital in the world..."

   Cindy interrupted me, "I know Chris that's why I'm here..."

   "But you haven't let them give you the status you deserve.  What are
you? Status 4, 5?"

   She looked up at me, her eyes big, "I'm a status 7."

   "Hellfire that's inactive!  That has to change.  I'm not sure how I'd
deal with losing you, but I can't be a part of you if you're not willing to
fight for there to be an us."

   "How can I place my life ahead of others?  Are they somehow less loved?
Chris, I see them, I go to Temple and I visit with some who are waiting. 
There are so many who are so scared, who aren't in a good place.  Chris..."

   "Cindy!  This isn't open for discussion.  You aren't the one assigning
the priority, they are.  YOU aren't jumping up the list; the people who
control the list are the ones who want to move you up!"

   She looked up into my eyes, hers pleading for my understanding or
acceptance, "But Chris, those people know me, what if they're letting their
emotions..."

   I let my feelings flood through me, "Cindy, what about children?  Don't
you want to give your children a chance to know their mother?"

   She cracked, hugged herself to me and I felt her sob softly.  We'd never
talked about marriage, much less children, but I knew how she felt.  After
all we'd met at a fertility clinic...  a clinic where I had access to her
most confidential records, and I was no saint.  I knew that was her one
real weakness.  Although she was only four years older than me, her
biological clock wasn't clicking, it was roaring.

   So softly I could barely hear her, she said, "I know it's wrong, but I
do so want to leave some of me behind.  I've talked to Sandy, begged her
really.  She said she'd consider it, but Jim doesn't want any more
children, and Sandy doesn't think she could carry a child and then just
give it up for adoption."

   I hadn't met Sandy, Cindy's big sister, yet, but I'd heard all about
them.  She is 12 years older than Cindy and Jim, her husband, was 47.  I
knew their two children were already high school.  I suppose the idea of
raising a child who wouldn't graduate high school until after you were on
Social Security might not be attractive, but after all it would be Cindy's
child...  and I had another epiphany.  Cindy wasn't the only one who wanted
to see a child of hers in this world.

   I wasn't in love with her, yet, certainly not the way I loved Lorelei. A
part of me knew I could never love anyone the way I'd loved Lorelei, I'd
given her a large part of who I was, she took it, and I no longer had that
to give.

   But if I wasn't in love with Cindy, she was by any measure the most
important person in my life right now.  I also found her highly desirable.
No, we hadn't made love, she hadn't said anything, but the message was
clear that she reserved that for a wedding night.  I wasn't much on
prayers, but if I was, I'd thank God that my "saint" was of the Protestant
variety.  I'd had no interest in sex of any kind during and after my
divorce.  I'd never even been tempted to pick up someone just to see if
casual sex might lift my spirits.  That had changed recently.  Cindy was a
sensual woman, and for the first time in my life, I was getting to be on a
first name basis with Ms.  Thumb and her four daughters.

   Nodding, I decided the world would be much poorer without something of
Cindy in it, I couldn't let that happen.  I would love to practice making
babies with Cindy, but that didn't mean I was at all ready to contribute
the DNA, much less volunteer to assume the role of daddy.  With a start, I
realized that if I wasn't ready to plan my future, at least I'd stopped
looking back.

   Until I'd met Cindy, I'd been living in the past, constantly trying to
second guess what I might have done to keep Lorelei from doing what she'd
done.  Or worse, spending countless hours trying to figure out some way
that I could wreak my vengeance upon them.

   As I stood there holding a quiescent Cindy, I realized the poison
Lorelei shat into my soul was still there, but now the tumor had been
encapsulated.  It hadn't consumed all of me and thanks to Cindy it never
would.  I don't know why this marvel had decided to get involved with me. I
certainly didn't have a clue why she would fall in love with the broken
vessel Lorelei had cast away, but if there was anyone in the universe that
could mend my soul, I was holding her.

   That might not be the love I'd understood a man was suppose to feel for
his wife, but I suspected it was as close as my brokenness could come.  I
shook my head.  No, deep in my heart I knew I could learn to love this
woman, if not as completely as I had Lorelei, it would be more than I had
now.  I just needed time to heal.  I needed time for her to work her
miracles on me...  and I'd use whatever tools she gave me to make sure she
lived long enough to do it.

   "We're going to Temple Hospital on Monday, Cindy.  You will let me do
whatever I can to move you to the top of their list."

   Everything I knew about her told me to expect an argument, perhaps a
flat refusal.  Instead she searched my eyes to see if I could be persuaded
and simply said, "Okay, Chris."



   ------

   Chapter 3

   Three weeks later my boss called me back into his office.  "I'm going to
give you a shot at that Sales Tech position, if you're interested.  I'm
going to break up our best team to allow you to get trained right.  In a
month or so I'll move you to the actual team you'll work on.  I'm going to
be making some other moves at the same time, so I can't tell you who your
permanent partner will be."

   I swallowed hard and asked, "If this doesn't work out can I have my old
job back?"

   "Sure, you'll have all your options open until the end of your training.
If you decide sales aren't for you right now, it'll still be great training
for where I think you'll want to grow with us."

   As I left the office, I had maniacal butterflies battling in my stomach.
I didn't mind the little buggers with knives; it was the ones with the war
hammers that gave me fits.  I'd read "Death of Salesman" in college and the
idea of being a modern day Willy Loman terrified me.

   On the way home that night I stopped by Barnes and Noble and bought the
first two books of jokes I could find.  When I actually tried to read them,
I discovered that the newest was old when my granddad was a boy.  Have you
heard the one about the traveling salesman and the farmer's daughter?  I'd
yet to crack a smile when Cindy arrived.  She had a key, "in case of
emergencies" but never used it, always ringing the bell instead.

   While I was fixing dinner for us I heard her trying to suppress a laugh.
"Did you find one you hadn't heard?" I asked.  One of the things I liked
most about Cindy was her easy laugh.  I've always been a bit on the serious
side but Cindy makes me think I'm funny.  She's not in the least silly, but
because she's basically happy she will give a genuine laugh to almost any
attempt at humor.  Oh, there are exceptions.  She never laughs a cruel
jokes but even the corniest joke can get a laugh if it's told straight.

   "I love this one, but it's too off-color for you to use.  'There was
this very naïve couple on their honeymoon.  They'd tried everything they
could but her cherry just wouldn't break.  Finally in desperation they
agreed to go to opposite ends of the room, and run at each other.  When the
husband was about to make contact he closed his eyes and the next thing he
knew, he was falling naked off their second story balcony.  The fall didn't
hurt him, but he was at a loss about how to get back to his room through
the crowded lobby.

   "'He was relieved to see a doorman with no one around him.  He called
and when the man came over he didn't want to explain why he was naked and
he didn't want to send anyone to his room since his bride was equally nude.
Instead, he tried a long involved story about being mugged and asked for
some spare towels.

   "The doorman replied, 'Hey, no problem just go on up to your room, no
one will see you, everyone's on the second floor trying to get a naked lady
off a doorknob!'"

   Cindy chortled!  I think great-grandfather heard that one in seventh
grade but I was surprised that Cindy would tell it to me.  As I said we'd
had some pretty passionate sessions but she'd never even let me touch her
between her legs.  Some of what I was thinking must have showed on my face.

   "Chris, you've never asked me about my past.  What was it W.  Bush said,
'When I was young and foolish, I was young and foolish?' I was very
foolish, very very foolish.  I haven't talked about it, but I guess now's
the time we should.  If you want names and dates I'll try, but it will take
awhile."

   I was shocked.  I was certain she was a virgin.  I mean she's a
minister! As she sat there, with that familiar calm expression on her face
I knew that I was...  "conflicted." I hate that psychobabble term, but it's
what I was.  I felt a surge of jealousy and I knew that details would just
make it worse.  I also knew that I needed to understand what made Cindy the
person she was.  Then, before I could make any sort of decision, she
answered the question that I wanted to ask most.

   "I haven't been foolish since early in my senior year in college.  I
haven't even been tempted until you came into my life, but if I've learned
anything, it's that it's never too late to stop being a fool.  I don't
pretend to be anything but a constant sinner, but I do the best I can.

   "Chris, I love sex and I enjoyed every minute of what I was doing, while
I was doing it.  It was only later when I counted the cost, that, by the
tiniest of margins, I regret what I did.  I wish I could come to you
without any baggage, but I can't."

   She searched my eyes, and it took me a few long seconds to realize that
she was scared this would make a difference to me.  It did, I hadn't been
sure that Cindy wouldn't be one of those folks who thought sex was dirty or
to be done only one way and in the dark.

   "I suppose that means you can teach me a thing or two." I did my best
imitation of a smiling leer.

   For once she didn't laugh, "If I ever get married I promise that our
wedding night will make my husband's head spin!"

   An awkward silence followed, awkward for me, I'm not sure Cindy noticed.
It had been said lightly, but after she'd murmured "I love you" on that
Saturday, I'd been struck by the words "If I" and "my husband." I'd
expected "When WE" and "make YOUR head." I had no right to expect it.  I
hadn't told her that I was interested in marriage.  Frankly, I wasn't. 
What was bothering me was that I wanted HER to be ready.

   With a bit of insight, I realized just how much I needed to be loved by
someone.  I still hadn't let my parents know where I was.  Just before my
divorce became final, I got so lonesome I bought a disposable cell phone.
When my father answered he practically took my head off, yelling at me for
not talking to my mother.  Then he blurted something about needing to give
Lorelei a chance to talk to me.

   I'd hung up just before I'd puked all over my shoes.  I knew, not
suspect, but knew that both my parents had loved Lorelei more than they had
me.  She was more their daughter than I was their son.  Still, to hear that
in my dad's voice hurt.  I'd written an angry e-mail, and then sat on it
until I cooled down.  I revised it, toned it down some, apologized for
hanging up but once again tried to explain how even her name affected me. I
sent it using one of the company's dummy accounts.  It went out with no
return address, and no one short of the NSA would be able to trace it, and
I'm not sure they could.

   I think that's when my pain began to morph into anger.  At least I could
let my anger convince me that it didn't matter, I didn't need them.  I
didn't need anyone.  Anyone who's ever taken a stand like that knows it's
not true.  I'm not sure you can actually die physically of loneliness, but
you certainly can spiritually.  Spending time with Cindy let me recover,
she saved me.  I'd been in spiritual ICU and the end had been near.

   Now, as I worked my way back, it was like any other recovery: you paid
the price.  If your leg goes to sleep, it will tingle painfully as you
restore circulation.  When you heart goes cold, you feel even more painful
needles as it warms.

   Always sensitive, Cindy wrapped her arms around me and her hug spoke
volumes.  I wasn't alone and even if she wasn't proclaiming love at every
pause in the conversation, I was important to her.  Perhaps even the most
important person in her life.  I wanted that, but I remembered something
I'd heard long ago, "If you want to be fully loved, you have to love in
return."

   I kissed the top of her head, having to stand on my tiptoes to do it. 
Have I said that Cindy is an even six foot tall?

   She looked up at me, "I love you.  It's okay that you don't love me,
you're not ready for that yet.  For now, it's enough that I love you. 
Please don't let that scare you.  I'm not going to push you."

   I kissed the top of her head again.  I tried to say the words, but if I
had they wouldn't be true.  I didn't love her, but while I didn't know if I
was the most important person in her life, she was in mine.  Sadly, there
weren't even any other contenders.

   That night marked a change in our relationship.  Cindy didn't change
really, she was perhaps a little more demonstrative of her affections, but
there was a real change in me.  I relaxed, not as much as around Lorelei,
but more than I ever had with anyone else in my life.  I was at ease to be
myself.  It was a wonderful freedom, and Cindy made it clear that she loved
the real me even more than the mask I'd allow her to see.  Is it harder to
trust than to love?  I'm not sure.

   That didn't mean that my other relationships were getting better.  Two
weeks after I started making sales calls with "Call me Bud," he called upon
me for some technical facts in a presentation.  On one aspect he stretched
the truth beyond all semblance of reality.  Then he turned to me and asked
that confirm his whoppers.  I gulped and did my best to back him up.

   The customer didn't say a word, but rose and walked out of conference
room.  "Call me Bud" became "Mr.  McKindley."

   "You've just used your one 'get out of jail free card.' I have grave
doubts about your ability to do this job, and I'm not sure you should
continue with the company.  That was a set up, the customer knew that what
I was saying wasn't true, how long do you think it's going to take for him
to trust you?  If this had been real, how much money would you have gotten
for your integrity?

   "There are some sales jobs were you can get away with salesman's
'puffery.' Telemarketing comes to mind.  Jobs where you never expect to see
or deal with your customer again.  Some of them even pay well, but no
professional salesman would ever take one.  The easy money is the return
sale.  A real salesman is selling two things: the product and their
personal endorsement.  Sometimes all you need is the product, but with
competition what it is, that rarely lasts a whole career.  It's my job to
point out every advantage we can offer a customer, but if I think our
competitors have a better deal, I'll acknowledge it.  That's not just
integrity, as I said conditions change and in a year or two we might be
better able to meet their needs.  We're in the security business, but a
good manager will accept a poorer deal if he can trust his vendor.  I don't
ever want to give that advantage to a competitor.

   "Take the rest of the day off and think about what I've said.  I don't
want you pointing out our weaknesses, but if I ever misspeak or exaggerate,
I expect you to do something about it, even if it costs us a sale and takes
money from your pocket.  Really think about it.  What sort of life do you
want?  You might not make as much money, but you'll sleep a hell of a lot
better when you get to be my age."

   I didn't go home, instead, I took a drive around the rural parts of
Bucks and the adjoining counties.  Seeing the two- and three-century old
houses, and the ones that had been built to give that impression, I thought
about how I might feel to live in one of the faux heritage houses.  I don't
mean those houses that copy the style, but those who make the attempt to
fool people driving by that it was built in colonial times.  How would I
explain the care I'd given to make the house look old?  My life had been
ruined or at the very least altered drastically because of falsehood.  Was
that the way the world worked?  Or should I try to find something better?
Was honesty better?  I knew I would be better off if others were honest,
but would honesty be the best policy for me?

   I was pretty sure that I could seduce Cindy.  Her response to me would
be authentic but to do it I'd have cheat.  Would I be happier cheating and
taking advantage of her?  Would there be a cost to pay down the road?  What
if I did fall in love with her?  If she never found out would anyone be
hurt?

   I made up my mind, and I called Cindy to see where we were going to
spend the evening, her place or mine.  Children's Hospital said she'd gone
home early because she wasn't feeling well.  I called her cell and she
didn't pick up.  I called her home and there was no answer.

   A chill shot down my spine and I began to curse Pennsylvania highways.
In Texas I'd be able to do 70 on state roads between towns.  Here it was
like driving on a city street but with fewer stoplights.  I couldn't even
speed because there were just too many cars on the road.  When I got stuck
sitting through the second light change at some nameless intersection I
panicked and called 911.

   I explained that Cindy was at the top of Temple's transplant list and
she wasn't answering her phone.  I'm afraid I used some language I don't
normally use until I was practically begging to have someone go by her
apartment.  I was left on hold for yet another light change and the
operator told me they were asking a police cruiser to check.  I was still
an hour from her apartment, and now stuck in rush hour traffic when 911
called me back and said that her apartment was empty.  A check of Temple
had not shown an admission and neither had the local emergency rooms.

   I can't begin to describe what I felt at that point.  I understood that
Cindy was my lifeline to normality and losing her was simply not something
I could contemplate without a serious challenge to my sanity.  I forced
myself to think.  Was it possible that she'd simply gone to see a friend?
Sure, but that number was literally legion.  Cindy is the only person I've
ever known who not only knew over 3,000 people by their first name, but
considered each a close friend.  She collected close friends like West
Texas fence lines collect tumbleweeds.  Lost people found stability and
roots in her, just as I had.

   As I tried to find some way through traffic, losing more time with each
"shortcut," I began frantically calling those of her friends I could find
numbers for.  I asked each one I talked to help by calling others they knew
in an impromptu telephone tree.

   It was almost seven when I reached her apartment.  It was empty and I
broke down and began to cry.  I hadn't cried since I held Lorelei right
after her father died.  Hope battled dread when I heard someone knocking on
her door.  With tears still running down my cheeks, I faced a policeman
who'd been keeping an eye on the apartment.  He was off duty, but one of
Cindy's "friends."

   As he assured me that he'd contact me if there was any sign of her, he
also convinced me I should wait for her at my apartment.  I think it was as
much cowardliness as pragmatism that convinced me.  I didn't want to hear
the worst at her place, surrounded by the things she loved.

   Of course she was waiting for me at my apartment, vexed that I was late
for her "special dinner." She'd left her phone in her car and had no idea
that a citywide dragnet was being conducted for her.  At first I think she
thought it was a bit sweet that I was so worried about her.  That is until
I told her that I'd been calling her friends.

   "Chris!  Those folks have enough problems of their own.  They sure don't
need to be worrying about me!"

   As we began calling some of the folks I'd called, people began showing
up at the apartment.  Time after time I heard some variation of, "Oh Cindy,
I was so scared.  I don't know what I do without you, and I've never told
you how important you are to me." It was the most emotionally draining
experience of my life.  Yet at the same time it was one of the most
uplifting.  The love of these friends was palpable, and though directed at
Cindy, the backwash was a salve for my broken soul.

   Before midnight Cindy was past exhaustion and I'd put her to bed in my
room.  That she was able to sleep as the flood of well wishers continued
until almost three, shows just how weak she was.  Some of the latest
arrivals prevailed upon me to let them stay until she awoke, and I couldn't
turn them out.

   Cindy didn't stir when I caressed her cheek just before settling into my
special "gamer's" chair to a surprisingly restful sleep.  She was still
sleeping at seven the next morning when I emerged to find my living room
still crowed with people I didn't know.  Someone offered me a cup of
coffee, and I called Mr.  McKindley to tell him I wouldn't be in until
later.

   "I had a bad scare last night.  I thought something had happened to
Cindy.  I hit the panic button and got a lot of people upset." I paused for
just a second, and said, "I thought about what you said, especially last
night.  I wondered what Cindy would say if she'd seen me yesterday, and it
put what I did in a whole new light.  I decided I don't ever want her to
think less of me if I can help it."

   There was a long silence, "She's something special, I don't see any
reason to ever bring this up again.  You stay in today and take good care
of her.  Tomorrow we'll begin your real training."

   A few minutes later Cindy wandered out of my bedroom, took a look at the
motley crew that sprawled around my apartment and said with a big grin,
"Chris, now that all these good friends know I spent the night with you,
what are you going to do to repair my reputation?"

   Everyone laughed, but the only reason anyone left was when they were
forced out by new arrivals.  Cindy handled the whole thing with dignity and
aplomb.  I'm not sure how Queen Elizabeth handles her audiences, but I'm
pretty sure she could take lessons from Cindy.  I know she was wiped out
but you'd never know she wasn't absolutely delighted to sit for hours
reassuring several hundred people that they would be among the first she
called if she ever needed ANYTHING.

   Someone, actually several someones brought in so much food I couldn't
help but be reminded of when my great-aunt died in her small town up in the
panhandle.  Neighbors had flooded her modest house with food; I hadn't
known that people in big cities ever did stuff like that.  I'm not sure how
much was brought, but one of the women said something about "loaves and
fishes," and by the time the last person left there wasn't so much as a
cracker to eat in the place.

   Me?  I felt like I had when we won our first national championship with
a goal in the final minute of the fourth overtime: not just physically
exhausted, but on an emotional high.  With all the people there today
showing how much they loved Cindy, and with her responding in kind, she was
still able to clearly convey that I was the real love of her life.  I
didn't understand the reference at the time, but her bishop had told me as
he left, "She might not be THE pearl of great price, or THE treasure hidden
in the field, but she is a treasure beyond price.  Take care of her."



   ------

   Chapter 4

   The next three months, until she got her heart were the things of
nightmares.  Looking back, at the time, I was so caught up in the drama of
the wait that I wasn't aware of the more important changes taking place in
Cindy and in me.  I assumed that once Cindy stopped fighting, she'd be
given a 1B status, at the very worst a Status 2.  It would mean a heart
cath every four weeks, but I'd already helped her with one of those, and I
no longer feared them.  She wasn't.  She was a status 3!  To make things
worse, while she wasn't an extremely hard match, she wasn't a common one
either.

   I don't know how the people who make the decisions about who gets a
heart make their decisions, but it's a good thing I don't know who they
are. I'm a big fan of the United Network of Organ Sharing down in Richmond
now, but I wasn't until she got her heart.

   The first time I knew someone else got a heart that Cindy could have
used, I wanted to commit murder.  The man who got the heart, was very old,
in his early 40s.  Yeah, he was married and had two kids, but he was just
an ordinary guy, with an ordinary job.  I know he was sicker than Cindy,
completely bedridden, but how could anyone pick him instead of Cindy?

   Of course Cindy wasn't in the least bothered, which just made it worse
for me.  By the time the next heart was available, Cindy was showing
physical signs of failure.  She had to give up one of her classes.  A week
later she had to cut back to working less than half time at Children's.  It
was the first time I saw her cry about her condition, not for herself but
for the kids she wouldn't be able to spend time helping.

   A week later she began to swell up, looking more like the Michelin Man
than the woman I'd come to love.  Seeing her like that was when I first
thought I might love her.  Not like I'd loved Lorelei, but more than I
could ever love anyone else.  I took her to the hospital that night and I
had tears in my eyes.  Tears of impotent rage.  I was furious, Cindy was
breathing rapidly and she was so very weak and she still wasn't next on the
list.  Some socialite who'd given a few million dollars to the hospital was
next.

   To be fair, the woman was only a few years older than Cindy and she also
had two very young children, and a husband who doted on her.  She'd been in
the hospital for a month because she'd been too weak for a transplant when
the last heart was available.

   God help me, one night as I saw how fragile and belabored Cindy looked
in her bed, I actually wondered if I could commit murder.  If it had been
anyone but Cindy, I might have carried through.  God might forgive me;
Cindy would forgive me, but she'd never continue with me and I couldn't
face that.

   Through all this time Cindy's friends were there.  The hospital had to
set strict limits on how many visitors she could have a day and the
rotation list was pages long.  The only ones who were allowed to see her
every day were me and her immediate family.

   Oh, I suppose I should talk about when I met them.  It was right after
she was hospitalized.  Cindy had listed her parents as her next of kin, but
was surprised when they showed up.  She hadn't understood that the hospital
would call them when she was admitted.

   I'd never done the "meet the parents" thing.  I guess it could have gone
better but I don't know how.  I was at the nurse's station checking on
something when this handsome old couple approached me.  The old man, he was
65, his wife was 62, held out his hand and said, "I'm Steve, Cindy's Dad.
I've been so anxious to meet the man who's so important to my little
angel."

   Before I could answer, the woman hugged me and "whispered, Cindy didn't
really want us to meet you yet, she didn't think you were ready for that
sort of thing, but I'm sure you understand that at a time like this we just
can't stay away."

   I blinked hard, Cindy, with all that she had going on was putting my
feelings above even those of her parents.  I was the most important person
in her life and I think that was the bit of knowledge that broke the last
of the chains I welded around my heart.  I knew in that instant that I
loved her.  I wasn't ready for marriage, but I loved her.

   I met her big sister and her family a day later.  I could see where
Cindy got her gracious nature.  Not only did they accept me as if I'd been
a family member for years, but they were prepared to defer to my opinions
on matters that concerned Cindy.  In short they were treating me as they
would her husband and it made me begin to seriously contemplate becoming
that.

   I raised the question the next time we were alone, and Cindy cried but
shook her head the whole time.  "Oh Chris, you know I want you as my
husband more than I than I want anything on this Earth.  I love you so much
I have a hard time keeping Christ first in my life, but I won't get married
like this.  There's just too much emotional drama."

   Her hands were puffy and unnaturally cold when she pulled mine to her
and caressed them with her cheek.  "I want you to be the father of my
babies, but that's too important a decision for you to make now, or if it's
God's will to let me come home now, for you to make without me.  Sandy has
promised to think about carrying one of my babies, but I don't want you to
volunteer for the daddy role if I'm not here.  At least not until all the
dust has settled and you know, not think, but know you're ready willing and
able to be a single father.

   "Believe me, that's not something I'd wish on anyone, and I'll be fine
if you don't think you can.  The only thing that would disappoint me is if
you make a decision like that out of some sort of misguided obligation or
emotionalism.  Promise me you won't do that, please Chris, promise."

   I didn't, couldn't, say a thing.  I'd already made up my mind that I'd
do whatever I could to see that Cindy had children, my children.  I'd
daydreamed about what being a single father would be like.  I imagined
myself as a noble/tragic figure...  the sort you might catch in the "movies
for menses" that play constantly on women's cable movie channels.

   My reaction at the time was resentment that Cindy was going to try to
deny me my noble gesture.  Now, I shudder to think how I would have coped
with all the demands of a newborn without a spouse to share the load.  I
sometimes think that that my face must be especially expressive, because
Cindy read me like a book.

   "Don't worry, I'm okay with being called home, but I'm also sure that my
jobs aren't finished here yet.  I'm also not going to hold you to your
'deathbed promises.' Facing death doesn't scare me, but it has effectively
cured me of any coquettish tendencies I might have had.  No matter what
happens, I don't think I'll ever have the stomach for all the little games
couples play while they're trying to decide on each other.  I want you, and
I know you're not ready yet.  You might never be ready, but when I get you,
I want all of you..." She paused then said something that I'll never
forget. She modified what she'd said to, "I want all that your heart has to
give!  I won't settle for anything less.  Marriage takes complete
commitment.  Ours will take more than most.  It won't work if you won't
give everything you have to give me."

   It wasn't until years later that I realized what she was saying, and
just how true it was.  My heart was damaged too, and it couldn't be fixed
with a transplant, it would never be whole again.  I've never met anyone
who has the sort of insight that Cindy displayed on a regular basis.  If it
wasn't what I shared with Lorelei, it was as close as I think normal people
could come...  except it was one-way.  Choose your clichÃ(C): I was as
transparent as glass, she could read me like a book.  Those were all true,
but her thinking was on a different plane than mine.  I could love her, but
her understanding of me didn't seem natural somehow.

   I'll never forget the night we got the call that she had a heart.  I was
still in her room, getting ready to leave for the night when a doctor
practically burst through the door, "We have a match in New York!  It'll be
here in about an hour and we need to start to get you ready.  The team's on
its way and if you want to call anyone you'd better do it now!"

   In the gentlest voice Cindy asked, "Do we know anything about my donor?"

   The doctor swallowed hard, "A student at NYU, she was shot in the head
in what appears to be a robbery.  She was declared brain-dead twenty
minutes ago.  She'd filled out a donor card, and her family was adamant
that her organs be donated."

   I tried not to let it show on my face but I was nervous, for unknown
reasons, patients are more likely to reject a heart from a female donor
than a male.  It wasn't a huge thing but I do remember wishing it had been
a male student...  and I remember not really caring that much about the
donor.

   I saw a look of compassion on her face and Cindy asked, "Will I be able
to contact them, before...  just so they know I share the pain of their
loss and how grateful I am for the sacrifice their family is making?"

   "Uh, we don't encourage contact between donor and recipients, it's a
very emotional time and..."

   "I'm going to write a note, Chris, I want you to make sure the family
gets this, no matter what."

   While Cindy wrote her note, I called her mother and the two people I was
supposed to notify for the now "official Cindy support team" telephone
chain.

   After waiting so long, it was like someone hit the fast forward on the
DVD.  In a little over an hour, they were ready to wheel Cindy out of her
room.  I panicked!  The reality that that this might be the last time I saw
her alive struck me with the physical force of a city bus.  My legs
wouldn't support me and I crumpled into the chair beside her bed, holding
her hand in a true death grip.

   Cindy on the other hand was absolutely serene.  Her Bishop was already
on his way to the special waiting room.  Everyone had bowed while he said a
prayer, including several of the surgeons on the team.  The only ones in
the room were Cindy's parents, the nurses who were going to transport the
gurney and me.  Cindy smiled and asked if she could have a minute alone
with me.  You could feel the reluctance of the nurses but they left without
saying a word.  Cindy's parents kissed her, told her they loved her and
left with unshed tears brimming in both sets of eyes.

   Cindy squeezed my hand and raised herself on one elbow.  "Chris, you
have to know that I'm fine with whatever happens.  My real concern is you.
If I don't come back, I know where I'll be, and you need to be OK with
that. But I also know that you're not ready to be alone again yet.

   "I want you to promise me that if I don't wake up, you'll spend time
with your family.  You haven't given them a fair chance, you know.  I
haven't pushed you because your pain is so deep and...  well, I knew how
you'd react.  I didn't want to create any barriers to us.  If I'm not here,
you have to let them help you.  They will you know..."

   Even I could hear the pain in my voice when I croaked, "They chose her
side..."

   "You don't know that, all you really know is that your father reacted
with anger at the pain you caused.  That's a natural male reaction to pain,
you know.  You do know it, you do it yourself.  Someone hurts you or
someone you love and you get mad.  It's not a bad thing, even in today's
society.  Righteous indignation has its place, but you need to give them a
chance.  They're desperate to contact you, and will be here in a flash if
you let them..."

   "You've talked to them!" Forgetting where we were and why, I was shocked
and angry!

   Cindy just smiled that serene smile and as it does when I'm mad at her,
it made me furious.  Generally, a good portion of that anger was because I
was pretty sure how our fights would end.  If there's anything that I could
say negative about Cindy is that she won't fight with me.  I think
sometimes couples need to fight just to clear the air.  Cindy didn't.  She
either listened and agreed with me, or by a process I never did understand
she listened and I'd realize that I needed to apologize.  It was maddening!

   I'd asked her once why she never reacted the way most humans do when
someone gets mad at them.  I sort of figured it had something to do with
her heart.  Samuel Johnson once said,"Depend upon it, sir, when a man knows
he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully." I
figured she'd just decided to live each moment as if it were her last. 
Instead she'd caressed my check and said, "When I first decided that I was
called to the ministry, I was pretty upset.  I hadn't been living the sort
of life ministers are supposed to live, and didn't want to.  On top of
that, I was what you might call a volatile personality.  God promised to
give me peace with my vocation.  He has kept his promise, even if I haven't
been all that good about keeping mine.  Besides, if something happened to
you, I couldn't stand for our last conversation to be a fight."

   That conversation was rattling around in the back of my mind, but I was
determined this time.  The last thing I wanted was for my parents to find
me.  "Cindy!  You know..."

   "I used your trick with the disposable cell phone, and no, they don't
have any idea where you are.  We've had many long talks and I would never
betray your confidence, but I couldn't let people who love you, worry
themselves sick over you.  They'd hired detectives to find you, and my
talking to them has actually given you more time."

   She paused and I saw pain on her face, "Was I wrong?  Chris we all love
you, please don't be mad at me.  I..."

   I broke, "My God Cindy, how could I be mad at you for doing what you
think is right.  I'll do it, I'll see them, but you have to promise me
you'll go with me.  I don't want to see them alone."

   She smiled again, "What sort of girl do you think I am?  I've been dying
to be presented to the parents.  I've even picked out a dress."

   One of the nurses poked her head in, "We can't wait any longer.  He can
walk with you to the operating room if you'd like."

   We didn't talk as they wheeled her down the hall and into an open
elevator.  I just held her hand.  It wasn't until later that I realized
that she didn't show any nervousness even when they opened the doors to the
OR.  I wasn't allowed in but I saw the place and I felt the chill of that
cold sterile place through the opened doors.

   In that pause Cindy pulled me down and kissed me.  It wasn't a goodbye
kiss; it was the sort of kiss that tented my pants.

   "The next time you see me, I'll have all sorts of tubes in my mouth and
I'll look a mess.  Just consider that what you call 'a lick and promise'
for what you'll get when I'm back up speed.  I love you Chris, and with a
healthy heart I'll love you even more!"

   "I love you too.  Marry me?" I blurted.

   Cindy beamed, "Of course, what girl could resist a proposal in such
romantic surroundings...  just look at my nipples."

   The cold had both standing at attention, and the uncharacteristic sexual
humor brought a guffaw from me.  She smiled and winked as they took her on
into the OR and the doors closed behind her.

   I shivered.  I know it was the cold, not the nagging thought that that
might have been my last view.  A nurse led me away and it wasn't until I
saw her family that what I'd said crashed in on me.  I'd asked her to marry
me and she'd accepted.

   She'd understood that it wasn't tied up in the drama of the transplant,
but I fully understood that she was the woman I wanted to spend the rest of
my life with, the woman I wanted to make babies with, grow old with.

   Understanding that I might lose her made me again realize just how
special it was to be around her.  Aside from idle daydreams, most of us
have no illusions about having our names in history books or making a
difference in the larger world.  Cindy, although that wasn't her goal, was
one of those people who not only could, but if she lived long enough, would
be read about by children in future classes.

   To have someone great want you was heady stuff, perhaps enough to bridge
the gap between what I could give her and what I'd had with Lorelei.  It
would have to be, no one else had nearly as much to offer.

   Thinking those "deep thoughts" so consumed me, that I was shocked to see
I'd been in the waiting room almost an hour when Sandy proffered me a cup
of coffee.

   "I'd say a penny for your thoughts, but I suspect they're worth a lot
more, and judging from your smile, they just might make me blush.  My
sister's a very special woman, and I'd almost given up hope that she'd ever
find T-U-L-O-M-L."

   I cocked an eyebrow and she continued "The Unmet Love of My Life, that's
what she said she was waiting for, she never used the term after the day
she met you."

   I took a sip of the coffee, it was sweet with cream, just the way I
liked it.  Since I'd never had coffee with Sandy, I knew it was something
Cindy had told her about me.  It's frightening what women will tell each
other.  Cindy took her coffee black and teased me about ruining perfectly
good coffee, but who'd think she'd tell her sister about it.

   Some bit of insane whimsy had me blurt, "Cindy told me she was a bit of
wild child, but somehow I just can't see her that way."

   "You want to hear about sinful Cindy the superslut?  Cindy once asked me
to talk to you about her 'years on the dark side.' She said she's very
concerned that you 'have her on some sort of spiritual pedestal.' She just
doesn't see herself the way we do, and that's part of what makes her
special."

   I gave her a rueful smile, "I've never been around ministers, and I
don't think it's a standard I could meet.  I do want to hear about her walk
on the wild side though.  She started to tell me once but we got
sidetracked.  Not the details, but I'd like to know what her family saw and
thought."

   "We weren't a particularly religious family.  We missed church about as
often as we went.  Just regular pew-sitters while Cindy was growing up. 
She was a very normal high school girl, more popular than most.  She was
voted 'Most Friendly' in her class, but she didn't date that much.

   "Like so many of us, she let loose in a big way about halfway through
her first semester at college.  By the time she was a sophomore she was a
party girl.  I don't know how many guys she drug home, but she was
insistent that they always stay in her room, together.  She was about as
blatant as she could be.  It caused some knock-down, drag-out fights, but
she was on full academic scholarship -- did you know she's a National Merit
Scholar?  She just told Mom and Dad that if they objected she wouldn't come
home at all...  ever!

   "Toward the end of her sophomore year, she went to some sort of
Christian Crusade and came home saying she'd finally given her life to
Jesus!  We were more than a bit skeptical.  I do know that she stopped the
drugs, but she lived with at least three more guys before she graduated.

   "When she announced she was going to seminary, we were all shocked.  I
asked her about why she'd made that choice and she said she knew for sure
at that crusade.  She said that changing who you are takes time, even with
Christ's help.  She said so many Christians expect instant change, that
they sometimes even question their conversion.

   "You know she has problems with the term 'born again' because she says
too many people assume that the new person won't be subject to the same
temptations that the old one had.  She said it could work that way, but
generally being 'born again' meant you still lived in the same place and
had the same problems.  It's your desires goals that change, and the new
friends you pick up, are the reason you start moving to live your new
values.  She said, she didn't take as long a Paul on his road to Damascus,
but she also said it would be a lifelong process.

   "I think that's part of what makes her so attractive to others, she can
accept that they struggle and fail, backslide and fall, but as long as they
don't give up she's right there with them.

   "I asked her how she was able to give up sex once.  She looked me
straight in the eye and said 'The love of Jesus and a good vibrator.' I
know you've talked about that, but I wanted you to know that I don't think
you have anything to worry about with Cindy.

   "I can't believe I'm talking about Cindy's sex life, especially at a
time like this, but like I said, this was something she wanted you to know
and hadn't been able to talk to you about it.  I don't think there are many
things that Cindy is ashamed about, but her wild-child days do bother her.
If you want my opinion, she knew for a very long time that she was called
to the ministry and she rebelled against the idea.  In the end she
submitted, and I think her experience has helped her understand the rest of
us poor mortals a bit more than most ministers."

   Time can't really stop, and no matter how many hours pass between ticks
of the clock it does pass.  Every so often someone would pop in and give us
an update.  They were always upbeat and so damn cheery it made my skin
crawl.  I visited with her parents, I read technical manuals, OK I looked
at the pages and studied the clock.  Several times I tried counting seconds
to see how close I could get to when the minute would change.

   At one point there was a long span with no news.  Then a doctor came out
to tell us that because of the damage they were going to go for a different
transplant process, instead of the more common orthotopic process where the
back half of both atriums are left in place.  We were told not to worry,
that Cindy was very strong and that she was doing fine.

   I'd become an expert in heart transplants, because of the information
that Temple provided and what's available on the internet, but that just
made me more aware of all the things that could go wrong.  After a few more
interglacial eras, her surgeon came out to tell us that Cindy was in
recovery and that we could go see her one at a time.

   "She's doing better than any patient I can remember, we still have some
major hurdles, but the fit was close to perfect."

   I went first; it just never occurred to me that her family should have
had precedence.  I was gowned and I wasn't allowed to actually touch her
but I could watch her.  She didn't look like patients do in the movies.  I
think actors are too vain to ever allow themselves to look that bad.

   Cindy had been in the battle of her life for her life and she looked it.
Her thick luscious hair had been cut short a month ago to make it easier to
keep in the hospital, but I'd never seen it so matted and disheveled.  Her
face still had that unhealthy puffy look that bespoke fluid retention.  She
was naked and from her neck to her ankles but her flawless skin had been
drenched in that horrible orange stuff they use to fight infection.  I'd
never seen her genitals, but I was pretty sure her shaved bush was done by
them for some reason.  I swallowed hard at the indignity she must have felt
having that done to her.  Her legs were parted and a nurse was pressing on
a bandage that looked like it had a tennis ball in it.  It was just below
the junction of her legs and I knew they'd opened the big femoral artery
for some reason.

   I saw all of that with my peripheral vision.  My eyes locked on the long
angry scar between her breasts.  Those beautiful breasts looked battered
and bruised, but I was immediately concerned that there was a huge pucker
at the top of the incision and by the two huge tubes protruding just below
the cut.

   I don't think she'd ever looked worse or more beautiful to me.  She had
a tube in her mouth but she was breathing.  She was alive.  I know the
folks talk about how this or that person looked "just like they were
sleeping," when they go to a funeral viewing.  I've never thought that. 
They looked dead.  Some looked nicer than others, but no one would think
for a second that they were alive.  Cindy, even with all the things that
screamed 'unnatural' was clearly alive.

   I wasn't aware of the tears in my eyes until once ran across my lips.  I
wasn't sure why I was crying but I knew that the day had just turned
brighter.  I knew that we faced more 'opportunities' in the next few months
than most couple face in decades, but we would have each other to face them
together.



   ------

   Chapter 5

   They released her from the hospital 10 days later...  an unconscionable
short stay in my opinion.  I drove her to her apartment, where her mother
was going to provide ongoing care.  She clutched a little heart-shaped
pillow to her chest to help the deep bone pain that even the smallest
movement evoked.  How could the hospital release someone who couldn't
suppress a moan every time I hit a pothole?

   Still, they did some things right.  We'd had all sorts of warnings and
counseling sessions.  Depression is one of the almost universal side
effects of open-heart surgery, and generally worst for transplant patients.
So many patients, and their families aren't prepared for it.  Temple had a
great program and we were taught what to look for and what to expect.

   I think one of the worst of "hidden problems," was that so often the
depression was masked by the medication that was needed to deal with the
chest pain.  We were also warned about the fear factor.  Because her
sternum had been sawed in two she would have chest pain.  It would be very
difficult for her to discern the difference between that pain and the pain
she'd come to associate with heart problems.

   It was strongly recommended that she not be left alone for at least four
weeks.  Of course she'd be going to the clinic once or twice a week for the
first month then weekly for the next month or so, until she would hit her
maintenance of once every other month.  But she also needed people and life
around her...  as if getting people to stay with Cindy was a problem --
just the opposite!

   There were a host of other things, but the bottom line was that while
life would never be normal again, she would live!  The really good news was
that about 50 percent of heart transplant patients were still alive 10
years later.  One had made it longer than 25 years!

   It's funny, after staring death in the face for so long, you just don't
think about what those number mean.  I'm not being negative, but for
someone our age to know that we'd probably not celebrate her 50th birthday
is sad.  I suppose it's better to concentrate on the joy of being able to
plan for her big three-oh party.

   It was a little longer than four months after Cindy got her heart that
we boarded a plane for Austin.  Of course she'd been in contact with my
folks, and her serenity about the trip was making me a nervous wreck.  I
was assured that I wouldn't see Lorelei, or hear her name, but how could I
not?  She lived in the same house with her mother, and it was still only a
little more than a block away from my folks.

   Of course I'd never asked the question directly, but from the start of
her homebound time, Cindy openly talked to my parents on a daily basis. 
After her first call, Cindy had asked if I wanted to know how "my ex" was
doing and I had a mild panic attack.

   I hadn't told anyone, but once I'd asked Cindy to marry me, hearing or
seeing the name no longer seemed to affect me.  Still that was a whole
different kettle of fish from hearing the details of her new life, or God
forbid, having to see or talk to her.  When Cindy made the arrangements to
fly down there, she assured me I wouldn't have to see "my ex."

   I know that there are some men who want to keep up with their ex-wives.
That wasn't me!  If I thought about seeing Lorelei, it was as if my mind
saw a door filled with grey fog, like you might see in a slasher movie.  Or
perhaps what those old mapmaker thought lay beyond the edge of the Earth.
"Here live dragons!" Whatever image you wish to use it was a place my mind
refused to go.  Even the thought of being forced to talk about her was
enough to make me fidget and if I thought about it long enough, I'd break
into a sweat.

   If that meant I still had issues, I didn't care.  As long as I wasn't
force through that door or into the mouths of dragons I was happy.  I was
normal and I was in love with Cindy.  I know that I'd shied every time I'd
approached that juncture before, but helping to take care of her, cured me.
Bringing her bedpans in the hospital and being in charge of her physical
therapy once she got home let me see her at her worst.  I even heard her
curse!  It was the first time, against doctor's orders, she sat down in her
tub and couldn't lift herself up.

   I had cleaned her mouth when the drugs made her sick and too weak to
even hold her head up.  I'd seen her at her emotional worst.  I'd seen her
pain make her short tempered and I'd seen her loopy from taking OxyContin.
OxyContin is a miracle drug, but I do pray that I never have to take it. 
Aside from the personality changes, Cindy was also unnaturally upbeat, was
it the drug or the lack of pain that made her assume she could do all sorts
of things she couldn't.  I'll never forget the day I caught her trying to
flip the mattress in her guest room!  As I laid into her she wasn't nearly
as repentant as she should have been.  That was another effect of the meds.
I did thank God when she was able to get by with lesser pain medications.

   I'd never thought about it, but pain serves a real purpose.  It keeps us
from damaging ourselves.  You don't stir boiling water with your hand
because it hurts.  Cindy felt so little pain that for a few weeks she tried
to talk us into letting her got back to work part time.  Part of Cindy's
nature is to help people and she never stopped that, but...  well if you've
ever been around anyone who has been really sick you know the stories I
could tell.

   Besides, I think it's easier to dwell on those than what happened when
we arrived in Austin.  I insisted that my folks not meet us at the airport.
I rented a nice car and I got us a double room at the Red Roof Inn in Round
Rock.  When I was a kid it had been a Hyatt and I knew the rooms would be
fine.  It was 10 miles or so further north of where my folks lived in
Pflugerville, but I didn't want to stay that close to them.  I thought
there'd be less likelihood of seeing old friends if we stayed up in Round
Rock.

   Cindy didn't even fuss about our sharing a room.  It wasn't a matter of
cost, but while she was much better by this point, she still shouldn't be
left by herself.  We slept together in the same bed frequently, we just
didn't have sex.  You want a layman's view of hell?  Try doing that with a
sexy woman you love!

   The reason we were in Austin was to announce our wedding and to
personally invite my folks.  To say I'd fought the trip was another of
those wonderful examples of understatement I seem to be making.  I didn't
fall on the carpet crying and kicking my feet...  but I did think about it.

   I suppose no matter what happens, we always want, need our parent's
approval.  I didn't give a damn what my parents thought of my decision to
divorce Lorelei, but it was vitally important to me that they approve of
Cindy.  We weren't going to have a big wedding, but it would be in the
church, and I wanted them there.

   As I waited, in the lobby, for Cindy to finish doing whatever "freshen
up" means, I was as tightly wound as I've ever been.  The flight to Austin
had been brutal.  We left Philly at 6:30 on Delta and after a plane change,
in Cincinnati of all places, we'd arrived in Austin at 10:50, only 15
minutes late.  Naturally our plane had selected the very last gate at
Bergstrom Airport and we had to walk 14 miles to the baggage area and car
rental.  I had tried to get Cindy to ride in one of the courtesy carts, but
she refused.

   By the time we battled the traffic and construction on I-35 it was close
to noon.  I've been told by lifelong residents, that, with the exception of
a few months here and there, I-35 has been under constant construction
since it was built in 1965.  I don't know if that was true, but it's been
under construction my whole life.  Between the construction and Texas
drivers (did I ever drive that fast?) I arrived a bit frazzled.  Our lunch
meeting was set for 1:00 at La Margarita, a half mile or so down the
frontage road from our hotel, and some of the best Mexican food in the
area. But I was worried we might be late.  OK, I was a little nervous about
how this meeting was going to go.

   Frankly, being late didn't bother me.  Hell, I didn't want to go at all.
I especially didn't want Cindy to meet her future in-laws when she was
wrung out from the trip.  Cindy, of course, was her usual serene self.  Oh,
she might have been a tad nervous -- she did banished me from our room
because she said I was hovering over her.  That was a vile slander; I was
at least a foot or two from her...  most of the time.

   When she breezed into the lobby, she took my breath away.  It wasn't
just her beauty, I suppose most wouldn't judge her quite as beautiful as
Lorelei, but she had this aura of...  I don't know how to explain it.  She
was like a shaft of pure light on an overcast day.  Or maybe she was a
rainbow after a hurricane.  She made you want to smile because you just
knew that God was in his heaven and all was now right with the world...  no
matter the horrors that had preceded her.

   It could have been that because she looked, no, was so confident, my
worries seemed petty somehow.  Whatever it was, I held my arm out to her
like you see in the old movies and I, I don't know any other word other
than escorted, I escorted her to the car.

   The Dell Computer lunch crowd was thinning out as we arrived at the
restaurant, and I was able to find a parking place.  As soon as I opened
the door the aroma of good Mexican food hit me like the sound of a chuck
wagon bell.  You'd think that with all the Mexican immigrants you'd be able
to find a decent Mexican restaurant most anywhere, but I've never been able
to find one outside of the border states.  I'll admit that you can find
acceptable Mexican in California, but it does not compare to Tex-Mex.  They
say that smell evokes stronger memories than any other sense, and I can
testify that the smell at La Margarita reminded me that my last meal had
been uneaten on the plane!

   My folks were already waiting in the little ante room as we entered.  I
stiffened when I saw them, but Cindy flowed out of my arms to embrace first
dad then mom.  Anyone watching would have thought we'd been married for
years and ate together at least weekly.  I felt a weakness in my chest at
that easy acceptance.  As Mom opened her arms for me my eyes remembered
that Central Texas is the allergy capital of the world.  Her hug was
fierce, and she seemed to have the same onset of allergies I was having. 
She didn't release me when Dad approached and as I took his proffered hand
I noticed through blurred eyes that the allergies clearly ran in the
family. In addition to watery eyes, I think his nose was running.  I know
mine was.

   I don't know why women always carry tissues in their purse, but Cindy
had them out and we were all using them and still hadn't said hello.  When
I did speak, my allergies made my throat hoarse.  Disentangling from mom's
death grip, I took Cindy's hand and said, "Mom, Dad, this is Cindy, she
wanted to meet you before we got married..."

   Cindy interrupted me and in saying how glad she was to meet them, and
all our allergies seemed to get better.  Like I said, one of Cindy's gifts
was putting people at ease.  I don't know how she did it, but as we took
our table the talk flowed as naturally as if we did this all the time.

   I think lunch was wonderful.  The food there always is, but I don't even
remember ordering, much less what I ate.  Cindy was oil on the troubled
waters of our relationship and by the time lunch was over no one wanted to
part.  Cindy suggested that Dad show her some of the sites of Austin, and
we were off in their car to see the wonders of the State Capital and the
LBJ library.  We saw the French Legation and the Bob Bullock Texas History
Museum.  I hadn't been to the last one, and if you're in Austin, you have
to go see the Texas Spirit Theater!  It's wonderful, and a pleasant
surprise, at least to Cindy and me.

   By the time we were finished, I could tell that Cindy had exhausted her
reserves and I had them take us back to our car.  Before we got there Cindy
was asleep on my shoulder and I could see the look of concern in my
father's eyes as he glanced back at us in the rearview mirror.  Mom
actually turned around and mouthed "Is she OK?" I nodded and Cindy stirred
and awoke.  We were just getting off the expressway and she saw the
Fuddrucker's that's across the expressway from our hotel.

   She nodded gently to acknowledge that she'd fallen asleep but with more
enthusiasm that I thought she had said,

   "Chris is always talking about Texas Bar-B-Q and Fuddruckers's
hamburgers.  He even threatened to drive up to Bethlehem to get one.  Could
we meet you for dinner there tonight?  I do need to take a little nap, but
say in two hours?"

   Mom dropped seamlessly into Mom mode, "Sweetheart, are you sure you're
up to that?  It's been a full day and are you supposed to eat something
like a hamburger?"

   Cindy smiled, and I braced myself for one of her few soapbox stands.  "I
love beef, and it's good for you.  I get so tired of the food police.  The
largest study ever done by the National Institute of Health, a federal
agency, found no linkage in consumption of fat and lower cholesterol.  In
fact the only linkage the found was that for heart patients who started a
low-fat diet, they increased their risk of a new heart attack.  The real
concern about high-fat diets isn't the fat it's the calories.  I do have to
watch my weight very carefully, but a hamburger now and then won't bother
me."

   My dad had recently bought a small ranch out in the hill country, that
means it was about 320 acres and the nearest place to buy milk was a
20-minute drive.  It also meant that he frequently wore shirts that said
things like "Vegetarian - Native American word for bad hunter."

   I had to help Cindy back to our room, and I sat at the little desk while
she slept, just making sure she didn't stop breathing.  I know it was
silly, she was much stronger than before the transplant, but she could also
over do.  When she did, she'd collapse like a top that stops spinning.

   I'm not sure how the topic came up at dinner, but suddenly we were
talking WEDDING.  I don't know what it is about women and weddings, but
Cindy made a friend for life when she asked Mom to help with all the
planning, including an invitation to come to Philly to help her shop for
her dress.  Then to make it worse, she surprised me with the news that her
best friend from seminary was now the chaplain at hospital here and
suggested that she consider having her wedding at the chapel at
Southwestern University, a Methodist school.  She asked Mom if perhaps they
could go look at it tomorrow.  Since this was the first I'd heard of it, I
blurted, "What about all your friends in Philly?"

   With a loving look, and gentle pat on my arm she said, "That's the
problem.  If we hold the wedding in Philly, there's no way to have a small
one.  Ever since we announced we were getting married I've been buried in
shower invitations and you know how many feelings will be hurt if they
don't get invited.

   "I thought about getting married in Roaring Springs, but Trinity
Methodist, my home church, is still too close to Philly, and it's too small
for the numbers I'd have to invite.  If we got married down here...  well,
how I could explain to anyone who might have their feelings hurt that we
didn't invite anyone from PA except family.

   "I know it would place a real burden on you, but..."

   Mom didn't let her finish, "Why of course I'd be delighted to help, but
I know you have your own ideas about what you want..."

   "My idea would be a little wedding in the church in the wildwood, but
since most of the people who would be coming would be your friends and
family, I really would feel better if you'd use your judgment about what
would work here."

   If there'd been any doubt that Mom would love Cindy, a willingness to
partner in her wedding dispelled it.  There was only one rough spot that
whole trip, we'd agreed to come to dinner at home and Mom fixed all my
favorites.  We were taking our ease in the living room with coffee.  Mom
and Cindy were talking about wine and an open bar at the wedding reception.
Mom had been surprised to learn that Cindy drank wine and mixed drinks too.
My family had always enjoyed wine at dinner and Dad loved a beer in the
evening.  Then Mom blurted, "Of course I had to give it all up when I got
pregnant, But I didn't miss it, I loved being pregnant.  You'll see it's
the most wonderful...  what?"

   Suddenly the elephant was in the middle of the living room.  "Mom, Cindy
can't get pregnant.  Her heart could probably take it but the drugs would
be a danger to the baby."

   There is some controversy about transplant patients having babies. 
After reading some of the studies, I'd thought it might be possible, and I
got all excited.  Then I began to study the actual numbers and we agreed
that Cindy would have her tubes tied.  The highest risk wasn't actually to
the mother, but the effect of all the drugs on the baby.  We both knew that
we'd never expose a child to those sorts of risks.

   After a short pause Cindy continued, "I want Chris' babies so badly I
cry when he can't see me.  We met in a fertility clinic, but right now it
doesn't look good.  We keep hoping my sister will agree to carry our
babies, but, at her age, I can't really blame her."

   Cindy's voice was wavering before she finished, and I was holding my
temper by the tiniest of threads.  I glared at my father and he had that
"Oh my God what do I do now look." I turned to my mother and she had tears
in her eyes when she blurted, "I had to have a hysterectomy right after
Chris was born, a full one..."

   I'd never known that, I'd wondered why I was an only child; Mom loved
kids and only having one never made sense to me.  My anger evaporated as
quickly as it had flared and now I was at a loss for words too.

   As always Cindy had the prefect recovery.  "We'll just have to trust God
that his will, will be done and I can't believe he won't provide a way."



   ------

   Chapter 6

   I don't know whose will it was, but we were married two months later in
the Southwestern Chapel, a Gothic oddity in the middle of Central Texas in
Georgetown.  The wedding was perfect, everyone cried, every one danced and
only a few of my old friends got drunk.  Although people made an effort not
to let me hear Lorelei's name, I heard people talk about her several times,
and it had no effect at all!  It was a GREAT day.

   The night was even better...  if I'd ever had any reservation about
ministers and sex, I certainly lost it when Cindy showed me a unique use
for her "flying fickled finger of fate."

   We bought a house in one of the older subdivisions near Hatboro, and
settled down into domestic tranquility.  Does that sound dull?  It was
heaven.  Cindy knew how to have fun.  You've heard the expression "When
Momma ain't happy, ain't no one happy?" Well when Cindy had fun, everyone
had fun.  I tried to analyze it, but it was just a gift, a gift of Joy.

   Cindy went into Philadelphia on Tuesdays and Thursdays to teach two
classes at Lutheran.  She served as a rotating chaplain at a couple of
hospitals and filled in for sick or vacationing ministers on Sundays.  I
was doing pretty well in sales.  I was doing incredibly well in sales and
if Cindy had had any other sort of job I would have insisted she stay home.

   Life changed on our first anniversary.  It was such a little thing to be
so life changing.  We didn't have a party, we went off to a little country
inn and barely left our room.  It might not be listed with the other fruits
of love in the Bible, but Cindy taught me that good sex was a gift of love.
It was when we got home that we found our gift from Sandy.  It was nothing
much, just an appointment card for the fertility clinic!

   I don't know how much you know about in vitro, but it is a miracle.  The
day I'd met Cindy she'd had her ovum harvested.  At that time it was a
minor outpatient surgery, although new techniques with ultra-sound make it
even easier...  and reduce the need for fertility drugs.

   Without getting too technical, the ovum and about 75,000 certified
active swimmers are combined in the lab and the child is implanted about
three days later.  The process of doing all this is hideously expensive and
typically you have several ovum prepared at the same time because the
implanting process is fairly straight forward.  In our case, we ended up
with four embryos.  Two of those were implanted in Sandy but in three cases
out of four, only one survives.

   From a personal standpoint, my part was one of the most humiliating
experiences of my life, not that I wouldn't go through it a million times
for our kids.  Cindy had already "done her bit," but I had to go into a
little room, by myself, to "provide a sample." We'd had to abstain for five
days before hand -- I can't believe I used that word -- to insure a viable
sample.  I suppose that made it easier, but knowing that everyone was
outside waiting for me to "take care of business," was not the way I'd ever
thought about creating children.

   We were also there when the babies were implanted in Sandy, and her
husband, Jim, was not.  I'm not sure that was the right move, but it also
might have been the smartest thing to do.  I'd never given much thought to
what it would be like to have your wife carrying not only another man's
child, but her sister's egg.  Jim is a good guy, actually that's too faint
praise, Jim is a great guy, but he didn't want me around Sandy while she
was pregnant.  Cindy on the other hand practically lived there.  She made
sure she was there to help Sandy with her morning sickness and later to rub
her back.

   After the twins were born, Jim talked to me about how hard it was to try
to keep from getting attached to the babies.  He wasn't successful and it
was worse for Sandy.  I think there's a Bible passage that asks, "Can a
mother forget the child in her womb?" I didn't realize until later what an
act of unselfish love Sandy, Jim and their children provided.

   I wasn't in the delivery room with Sandy; I was in the waiting room with
Jim.  Cindy was with her sister when she gave birth to our daughter, Sandy
(#823 on the Social Security list of most common names) Grace (#14), and
our son, James (#18) Kylan (#824) and held both of them before her sister
did.

   Now everyone knows that newborn is not the most attractive age for
children...  but I'm not putting any hair on my story when I say both of
ours were beautiful!  I don't mean that they were just good looking
newborns, they were gorgeous.  When the nurse placed them in my arms I
trembled at what I was holding.  I don't mean I was a little nervous, I
mean that Cindy practically snatched them out of my arms because I was
shaking so hard.

   Flesh of my flesh and bone of my bone and they were so small, so
helpless, and so beautiful they took my breath away.  I know my heart was
scared and incomplete, but no one has ever loved anyone as fully as I loved
those two.  Move a mountain with a spoon to give them a safe place to play?
What would you like me to do after coffee break?  I wanted to rush out and
make the world a better place and I wanted to sit right there and marvel at
the perfection of those children.

   Look, I know that men are supposed to make a big deal about not changing
diapers, especially the dirty ones.  I can't say I enjoyed it, but I never
minded.  Having watched some of what was done to create those two
wonderfully miracles, I...  I don't know, the word awesome is so last week,
but I am in awe of the process.

   I will say that if there is an upside to not having your wife carry your
children it's that Cindy was never as tired as most mother's of newborns
are.  It's a matter of small degree, no mother of newborns has a more than
an ounce or two of excess energy, but an ounce of Cindy's energy is enough
to power half of Philadelphia.  Okay perhaps only the residential areas,
but it was enough to let her continue my education in the bedroom.  How a
woman can be so wanton and so loving at the same time is...  well, it's one
of those things that makes Cindy so special.



   ------

   Chapter 7

   The next two years sort of evaporated.  I never knew life could be so
full.  Cindy might have been a minister, but even with two babies at home
she was anything but stodgy.  Her energy and joy made each new day a
wonder. Oh, and who would ever have thought a guy like me could learn to
have so much fun at church parties?

   Cindy loved being at home with the twins, but still found time to do a
fair amount of writing.  She also loved to fill in on Sundays for ministers
who, for one reason or another, couldn't be in their pulpit.  Cindy, bless
her, didn't recycle sermons, and it was inspirational to listen to her
preach.  I also didn't mind the tradition that the visiting minister was
always taken to lunch at the best restaurant in the area.  It wasn't much
in the way of pay, but it did introduce us to some great places to eat.

   It's odd, I'd gotten a promotion to area technical sales manager, with
great pay, so I traveled some and ate out all the time, but even though I
loved Cindy's cooking, I also loved to eat out with her.  I think part of
it was that she was just so interesting.  As I've said, I'm a pretty smart
guy, but Cindy just dazzled me.

   She studied scripture in the original Greek, Latin and Hebrew.  She read
all the great philosophers, and corresponded with many of the current
leaders.  Yet when we'd go out to lunch with folks who never finished high
school, she could make her points in ways they understood.

   I admit that I was a little bit of an intellectual snob, but being
around the various church folks cured me.  It didn't take a sheepskin to
make someone smart and life experience teaches more than I got in any
classroom.

   I don't want to give the impression that life was perfect, it wasn't. 
There were several clouds, "no bigger than a man's hand in our life." The
first was that, it was rare to come home without finding several cars in
our driveway.  Cindy loved people and there were always people "just
dropping by."

   I did a slow burn for a year or so then I blew up.  Cindy's response was
typical, "Why didn't you say something?  I'll take care of it." I don't
know how she did it, she continued to collect friends like kids collect
stains, but it was never a problem after that.

   Recently a new cloud appeared.  She'd begun talking about our other
"children." She was doing so well that she was able to cut back on many of
the drugs that transplant patients have to take and was beginning a
campaign to be allowed to have the two remaining embryos implanted in her.
It scared me to death.

   It was true that she was a model patient.  The heart turned out to be so
compatible it might have come from her twin, but it wasn't a perfect match
and she needed the drugs to keep her as healthy as she was.

   I think that's what was so hard on her, she just felt so good, better
than she'd felt, in some ways, than before she went to Africa.  This led to
some knock-down, drag-out fights...  OK it led to a lot of yelling and hand
waving on my part and serene smiles on her part as she argued "reasonably."

   The crux of her argument was that the embryos were humans and we
couldn't just leave them forever frozen.  We argued about what made a human
and when cells acquired a soul.  Her argument was that while we didn't know
exactly when a group of cells became human why risk it.  I'd been raised
pro-choice and believed in a woman's right to choose, but even I had to
admit that it didn't make a lot of sense to make the cut off point when the
baby was born.  I was inclined to say when the baby became viable outside
the mother.  That was human enough for me, and at that point the baby
should be protected.  I suppose that would be about the last trimester...
isn't that what the Supreme Court said in the original Roe v.  Wade?

   In one argument I pointed out that the Methodist Social principles
supported abortion to preserve the health and life of the mother.  Have you
ever heard the term "bringing a knife to a gunfight?" Never argue theology
with theologian!  I have no excuse.  I knew she was published, the sale of
her books created a healthy trust fund for the twins, but the words she
used!  If you do decide to argue theology with a theologian, at least make
sure you know enough Greek, Latin and Hebrew to know if they're making
points or swearing at you.  Bottom line, I think her theological arguments
were just cover.  She had a deep tie to those embryos.  Her response was
far beneath the emotional level of logic.  Those were her babies and she
wasn't going to let them languish in some frozen jar.

   I'll never forget the Sunday afternoon that I sat her down on our bed,
looked deeply into her eyes and said, "Honey, I will never allow you to
carry those babies.  You've always said that theologically I was the head
of this family, and I'm saying this is final."

   Do you know when you've been had?  She gave me a big sexy smile and
said, "That means if I can find the right person to carry them we'll have
two more babies?" I knew exactly how Br'er Fox felt after he'd thrown Br'er
Rabbit back in to the briar patch as a torture, only to find that he'd
thrown him into his favorite place.

   I might have caught on sooner, but she'd immediately began using her
best argument...  her hands had magically appeared inside my pants.  Almost
before she finished her sentence she had put her mouth to better usages, no
doubt so I wouldn't see her gloat.  All I could do was moan was "YES!" I
was not giving my permission for her to find another surrogate mother... 
but that point could be disputed by an impartial jury.  Besides, I knew
that Sandy was no longer physically able to carry more children and who
else would do that for us?  Isn't a man's logic silly when he thinks with
the wrong head?

   Two months later I came home on a Friday night and Cindy was wearing one
of her sexiest outfits.  She had my favorite dinner prepared...  chicken
fried steak, mashed potatoes and English peas.  Then she sprung her first
surprise.  She'd just signed a contract to do a series of seven books over
the next 10 years.  The amount of advance check staggered me; she'd be
making more than I did, and only working part time at home!  I knew exactly
how she wanted to celebrate when she asked me to take the twins to one of
our friend's house while she cleaned up after dinner, so we could "discuss
what this meant for our future." I loved the way she could, uh...  discuss!

   She promised to have everything ready before I got back, and as I was
leaving she said, "Wait 'till you see what I've got for you when you get
back...  'Big Daddy'!"

   I didn't speed.  Okay, I didn't speed while the twins were in the car.
The round trip normally took about just under an hour.  Even with the time
settling the twins and getting all their stuff unloaded, six interminable
red lights and a jerk who farmed both sides of the road as he drove, I was
pulling into our driveway forty-two minutes after I left.  When Cindy went
all out...  well I do believe that the angels wept that they weren't one of
us.

   Oh God!  As I got to our bedroom, the first thing I saw was the votive
candle that heated the little glass bowl of scented oil.  The smell was
powerful, and until that instant had been my favorite.  There were other
candles around the room, giving a soft glow to the darkness.

   Cindy was in her sexiest Victoria's Secret outfit and laying on my side
of our bed.  She had the sweetest smile on her face.  It was the one she
had when she would tell me how much she loved me, but I knew it wasn't for
me.  It was for the only one she loved more than me.  Even before I touched
her I knew she'd never smile like that for me again.

   She must have died minutes after I left, she was already un-naturally
cold.  I pulled the covers from her side of the bed to warm her.  The
oddest thought struck me, "How could she have smiled with the pain of a
heart attack?" Then, I collapsed on the floor and I wept.  I'll never know
how long I keened.  I just know that after an eternity I felt her voice
saying, "Chris, don't cry for me, you know where I am.  Don't try to be
strong, let your friends help.  The twins need you."

   It wasn't that I actually "heard" her voice.  It was that I felt a
warmth flush my body and I knew what she wanted me to do.  I don't believe
in ghosts, but I'll always believe that her spirit or something swept
through me and that's what I felt.  None of my pain was gone or lessened,
but no one will ever convince me that Cindy left without saying goodbye.

   Somehow I was able to call 911 and I even helped the paramedics move her
onto their cart.  They knew her from her volunteer work at our local
hospital and one had tears in her eyes.  I think that helped me.  I know
that paramedics don't get emotional on the job, but I also knew that this
crew wouldn't treat Cindy's body with the impersonal indifference that is
routine and probably a professional necessity.

   The police were there too, and again one of them was a friend of
Cindy's. I knew questions had to be asked but it wasn't an interrogation,
it was a friend sharing of my grief.  I don't know who called the couple
who were keeping the twins.  I suppose it was the same person who called
Cindy's parent, Sandy, and my parents.

   I think I was in a bit of shock, I couldn't stand to go into our
bedroom, instead I went to my recliner in the den.  Someone put some
elevator music on our CD player, and our den began to fill with clergy. 
Someone might have spoken to me, but thinking about it, I don't think they
did.  When Cindy had me read the book of Job with her, I commented that
with "friends" like Job's three, who needed enemies.  Cindy pointed out to
me that they had torn their clothes sat, fasting, on a pile of shit, in
complete silence with him for perfect amount of time probably more than a
week.

   They didn't start offering their bad advice until Job asked.  It didn't
make much of an impression at the time, but as I sat in my recliner, I
understood.  Sometimes, there just isn't anything you can say.  Silence is
harder than platitudes and sometimes the best thing you can do in sit on a
dung heap and share your friend's pain.

   I didn't sit there for seven days, but I didn't sleep that night.  In
the morning the physical needs of my body forced me to get up and it was
only then that I was aware of two things.  First, that Cindy had some great
friends.  Eventually, 12,253 people signed her registers.  The largest
Methodist Church in Philly overflowed, and people stood all around it on
the grounds.  People lined the road as we took her to the cemetery.  Yeah,
Cindy had some great friends.  Thousands of people where anxious to do
anything they could help me for her sake.

   But the second thing I realized was that I didn't have any friends of my
own.  Oh, I had a lot of acquaintances who liked me, and who I liked.  What
I didn't have was someone who I would show up and sit on the shit-pile with
me.

   No, that's not true, there was one person who was closer to me than any
sibling.  Somewhere buried deeply in my grief, resentment still burned that
by what she'd done Lorelei wasn't there for me.  By her action she hadn't
just cost me a wife, but she'd cost me the very best friend I could
possibly have.  She'd forced me to be alone, and the pain of that isolation
came within a straw of breaking my camel's back.

   I don't need to tell you about all the things that went into burying my
wife, if you've buried your spouse, you understand.  If you've been
blessed, there's no way you could ever understand how it feels to know that
part of you lies inside that box over an open hole in the ground.  Why do
they make such a big deal about covering the fresh dirt with that
artificial grass?

   No, if you've never been there, you could never understand how hard it
is to watch a disembodied backhoe shove dirt on the one you love.

   It was a mistake to request that I be alone with her at the end.  I know
I shouldn't have stayed, as that machine covered the grave, but I thought I
needed to be there at the end, to tuck her in, you know?  Like I'd done so
many times before, when she was in the hospital.

   The only remarkable thing, was what didn't happen.  I expected some sort
of sign from God that he was happy to have one of his special people home
with him.  All I got was the breeze in my face and the soothing scent from
the mountain of flowers people had given.  I guess the odor of sanctity was
enough, she loved fresh flowers.

   Later, when the prefect amount of time had passed, about a month, I was
opening the normal 60 or so condolence cards I'd gotten every day since
Cindy passed, when I saw it.  I didn't need to open it.  There was no
return address, and my address had been typed, but I knew it was a birthday
card from Lorelei.  I didn't need to open it, I know Lorelei.  I didn't
need to open it to know what was inside, but I did.  I wasn't surprised
that there wasn't so much as a signature; not because she thought seeing it
would hurt, but because she knew she didn't need words.  It was just a
beautiful birthday card and an appointment card.  An appointment card that
perfectly matched the one I'd found under the little votive candle the
night Cindy died.  An appointment card for the fertility clinic.

   Tomorrow is my birthday and I am terrified.  I have a decision to make
and I just don't know what I should do.

   Please, tell me, what would you do?
   ------ The End ------