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

   By the Troubador





   Sibyl Peter Randy Constance



   Damn it!  The little creek had been flooded from the violent rain.  The
placid little mountain stream, usually a pleasant, quiet little trickle,
was a churning, heaving white water rapid.  Foam was splashing up to, onto
and sometimes over the old log and timber bridge; our only way out of Randy
and Constance's mountain retreat.  It was a nightmare scene now caught in
my headlights.  The forest surrounding us was so dark the hundred foot tall
old growth firs crowding the road couldn't be individually distinguished;
then this insane travesty of a creek.  I had waded there two summers ago.
It wasn't ankle deep.

   Without light of some kind it would be impossible to move in the rain
forest until after daylight, many hours away.  When that bridge went, it
would be a long hike in that forest.

   The bridge was definitely going to go!  And soon!

   I sat for a moment watching the froth leaping into the air higher than
my head from the madly churning rapids.  What scared me wasn't the water
reaching to less than a foot of the bridge, it was the water now more than
an inch deep over the bridge approaches and rising almost visibly.

   The creek was just inches below the bottom of the bridge.  Eight hours
ago I could easily have stood atop any of the shoulder high boulders
littering the streambed, and been unable to reach the bottom of the bridge.


   Time to forget the beer run Constance and I were on and get back to warn
the other guests.

   Constance looked scared sitting beside me, clutching my arm.  "Peter,
I've never seen it this high before!  We've never had water over the road."
She had to speak loud to be heard over the drum of water thundering onto
the roof of my fire engine red Jeep Grand Cherokee.

   It had been raining steadily for several days, but shortly after my
fiancée Sibyl and I arrived at the party the skies opened and began pouring
buckets.  I'd never before seen rain like this around Seattle.  Sure it
rained, but almost always a soft gentle rain.  Hard, driving, knock down
the cornfield rain like this just didn't happen here; until this afternoon.

   Randy, Constance's husband, was giving a weekend party in the mountain
'cabin' that had been in Randy's family for generations.  The land around
it was all National Forest with no private buildings now being allowed. 
Except that Randy's great grandfather built a cabin here years before on
land he bought before this was declared a National Park.  Hell, it might
have been his great, great grandfather.  In any case, it was a classic case
of "Grandfathering" as Randy told us ad naseum.  The pun was long dead, but
the fact remained.  His family, and the branch of the family directly
descended from the old man, had a legal right to keep a private cabin on
this national land.

   The law did not define what it considered a cabin, and over the years it
had grown considerably.  The main "cabin" was now an eight room, two story
house.  It was log construction, which was the only thing that came close
to making it look like a cabin.  In the city it could have been considered
a small mansion.

   Loosely connected to the main cabin, and connected with covered walkways
which according to the law made them all "one building", were four smaller
four and five room "cabins".  They had been built to house married children
and their families.  Each had a bathroom with composting toilet, a sitting
room and several bedrooms.  Kitchen and dining room facilities for the
complex were housed in the main cabin.

   Sibyl worked for the firm Randy's family owned, and at one time Randy
had been her supervisor.  Sibyl had told me that Randy had an important job
in the company but everyone knew he wasn't going any higher.  He was too
much of a playboy, too impetuous, and his judgement had proven skewed when
he overcame those obstacles.  I'd seen some of the chances he took
personally, and understood why the staid family establishment had no desire
to see him running things.  If I had been one of them, I would have been
unwilling to have him running the accounting department, which was his job.

   It was a trick turning my Jeep around on the lightly flooded road, but I
managed and in moments we were back around the bend and parking in front of
the main cabin.  We had been gone less than fifteen minutes, and several
puzzled faces were looking out at us from the windows.

   After a jury-rigged beer cooler Randy had devised had been carried away
by the river, Constance and I had been commandeered into making a beer run.
Sibyl had been in a corner chatting with Randy when the grumbling grew too
loud and she or he volunteered my services to drive into town to replenish
the supply.  I wasn't too keen on going, but this was a weekend party,
after all, and taking the two hours out to keep the party going didn't seem
too much of a hassle.  Randy insisted I not pay for the beer, and donated
Constance's services to ride along and use their credit card.

   Sloshing through the parking area, we picked our way to the front door
through the BMW's, Mercedes, and even one Ferrari.  Inside Constance went
one way, and I went the other passing the word for everyone to evacuate. 
We estimated the bridge was going to be washed out, probably within three
or four hours.  Anyone that had anyplace to go for the next several weeks
had best move their sweet patooties and get over that bridge before it
disappeared.  It was twenty-five miles to what we in Washington State call
civilization, and with this flood coming out of the sky it wouldn't be a
pleasant stroll.

   The first BMW fired up, and drove off ten minutes later.  In the
meantime, I was getting worried because I couldn't find my fiancée. .

   I had pretty much covered the main cabin when I realized the party had
spilled over into the 'attached' cabins.  On my way out to let those folks
know about the bridge, I figured I'd find Sibyl.

   There were a few couples sitting, chatting and dancing to the stereo in
the first cabin but no Sibyl.  After checking all the rooms there, I moved
on to the next, which was locked and empty.  Not finding Sibyl there it
occurred to me she had probably been in the john, so I quit worrying. 
Knowing it was better being over zealous than sorry later, I continued on
to check out the last cabin, which also looked dark and empty.

   The din of rain on the tin roof of the last cabin made it impossible to
hear as I approached and for a moment I puzzled over why this cabin was
roofed with tin instead of cedar shakes like the others, then forgot the
problem.  I was certain it was empty, it was certainly dark, but if I
didn't check it out I'd be fretting about it all night.  The sitting room
was empty and dark.  Stepping to the barely seen hall entrance I saw the
door to the first bedroom was standing open, the room empty.  However, as I
hesitated before leaving I noticed a dim red glow showing under the door of
the second bedroom at the end of the short hallway.

   I felt uncomfortable about opening it, this was a party after all. 
However the noise on the roof was too loud for anyone in the bedroom to
hear me even if I used a bullhorn.  The hallway was pitch black except for
the dim glow under the door, but suddenly I knew someone was in there.  I
stumbled over a woman's shirt lying in the hallway.  I picked it up, and
spotted a pair of women's slacks lying in front of the closed door.

   Even in the almost nonexistent light coming from the glow under the door
I knew the shirt and slacks.  Not thirty minutes before I had been admiring
them on Sibyl as she stood chatting with Randy.  That had been just before
she enthusiastically agreed to my taking the Jeep into town.  That was just
before Randy asked his wife to go with me on the two-hour drive.

   I stood a moment, wondering what to do.  It embarrasses me now to recall
it, but I almost left the whoever was in that room there as Constance and I
evacuated everyone else.  I almost left them to hike their way out in the
morning.  The distance and the damage being done to the sodden forest would
make it a miserable two or three day walk.  Maybe even a dangerous one. 
That thought was the one that decided me against trying to ignore what was
going on.

   Instead I carried Sibyl's shirt and slacks with me as I slowly opened
the door to the bedroom.

   A small lamp stood on a bedside table, washing the room with a dim red
glow.  Half way between the door and the bed lay Sibyl's white, frilly,
almost transparent bra, torn in half.  Almost under the bed were the
remains of her panties.  I recognized the underwear.  They were a lingerie
set I gave her as a personal and secret birthday gift Wednesday.  For a
ridiculous moment all that filled my mind was the thought that I had never
seen Sibyl wearing the set; along with the non sequitor that it had cost me
$110.95; plus tax.

   Snorting I focused my attention on the bed.

   Not much was to be seen.  The couple was almost lost in a soft mattress,
and surrounded by a hugely fluffed quilt.  The only thing to be seen were
two shapely female legs, spread wide, sticking up in the air and waving
back and forth.  Between them a large, fat male ass was rising and falling.


   They had no clue I was there.

   I turned and left.

   Bundling up Sibyl's slacks and shirt so they couldn't be identified, I
hustled to the main cabin and out to my Jeep.  I shoved Sibyl's clothes in
the back and out of sight before running back inside to snatch up her coat
and purse from the room where all the coats had been left.  Most of the
coats were already gone.

   Armed with Sibyl's coat and purse, I marched back to the scene of the
ongoing crime.

   Stepping just inside the bedroom, I looked around and spotted Randy's
clothes.  They were neatly folded and stacked tidally on a chair against
the wall.  The thought crossed my mind that Randy was ever the accountant,
keeping everything neat and orderly.  Grimacing, I realized his interest in
neat and tidy was for those things he considered important.  My fiancée's
clothes, and by extension my fiancée, had been shredded and tossed
helter-skelter.  It was easy to understand what he considered unimportant;
like my Sibyl, like a liaison with any woman.

   Scooping up Randy's things up I carried them outside where I tossed them
up onto the roof out and of sight; socks, pants, underwear, shirt, the
whole shebang.  As I hefted his pants I noticed the weight of his wallet
and keys but didn't stop to take them out.  They went up with the pants.

   Grimly I returned to the bedroom.  There the woman's legs were now
wrapped around the fat ass, which was making short, hard, happy thrusts
downward.  Over the cacophony of the rain I could barely hear a woman's
screams.

   Flipping on the overhead light, I stood lounging against the door as
first Sibyl's face and then Randy's popped up over the top of the quilt,
looking at the doorway.  Their eyes dazzled by the sudden glare of the
overhead light and interrupted, as they were, in the middle of an orgasm,
neither immediately recognized me.  Randy's face turned ugly, and I could
see, and almost hear, his obscenities and screams demanding I turn out the
light and leave.

   Sibyl was first to identify their intruder.  Her face went from an
embarrassed scarlet to a pale mask of fear as I watched her sweet lips
mouth, "OH!  OhmyGod!  Oh no!" Then she began struggling to get free of the
heavy burden lying atop her naked body.

   Of course it was impossible.  Nature did not mean for a woman whose body
was accommodating an erect male member inside it to be able to break free
from that accommodation without the cooperation of the owner of that
member. Up to then Randy had seen no reason to consent to said withdrawal.
He violently wanted the light out and the intruder to leave but saw no
reason to interrupt mastering the piece of fluff lying under him.

   It was comical later on, recalling the exact instant Randy recognized
why Sibyl was struggling to free herself from his member.  He rolled
suddenly to the far side of the bed, his face pale, his mouth hanging open.
It only took him a moment though before he decided to try to brazen it out.

   As his bluster began, still completely unheard over the roar of rain on
the tin roof, I stalked to the bed.  Taking my fiancée's arm I yanked her
off the bed and stood her, nude and upright, beside me.  She was in shock,
trembling as I wordlessly stuffed first one arm, then the other into the
raspberry red, full-length London Fog raincoat she had worn to the party.

   In one stride I was at the end of the bed to pick up her shoes where
they had been tossed.  I scooped up her destroyed underwear and shoved them
in her arms along with her purse and shoes before taking her hand and
hauling her after me barefoot down the hall.  Clutching her shoes, purse
and underwear to her breast with the other hand, her raincoat flapped open
with every step, revealing her nudity.

   Outside the tin-roofed cabin we could again be heard but I was silent as
I hauled a barefooted Sibyl along behind me.

   Sensing, or perhaps hearing his footsteps over the rainfall, I spun
around to confront Randy as he ran up behind me.  He reached to grab my
shoulder, and I knocked his hand away.

   "Not another move, slimeball.  Got it?"

   He stopped and looked at me uncertainly, no longer confident or
belligerent while standing there naked.  He had found his shoes, but
nothing else, even socks.

   "Where are my clothes, Peter?" he mumbled.

   "I put 'em away, slimeball.  Before we continue this discussion you
should know that the bridge across that little creek up the road will be
washed out real soon.  'Most everyone else has already left so they won't
be trapped here.  I suggest you make tracks, too.  Get some of your other
clothes, slimeball.  It will take you a while to locate those you took off
to ball my ex-fiancée."

   "I don't have any other clothes here!  We don't keep things here; things
can mildew.  Come on, where are they buddy?"

   "Damned if I'll tell you.  That's your problem, not mine.  And you sure
as hell aren't any buddy of mine.  Any friendship we had, you fucked,
understand?"

   His shoulders slumped, and that was the moment Constance stepped out
onto the covered walkway where we were standing.  She saw Randy standing
there, wearing only his shoes with the shoe strings dragging on the ground
and froze, both hands covering her mouth and her eyes flitting between
Randy, Sibyl and myself.  Glancing down, I saw Sibyl's raincoat hanging
loosely, giving glimpses of her nudity with every movement she made as she
stood on one foot trying to slip on her second shoe.

   Breaking out a momentary trance, Constance told me, "We should get out
of here, Peter.  Most of the others have already gone.  One of the guys is
an engineer.  He drove down to look at the bridge, then came back to tell
us we don't have a couple of hours until it goes.  He said it might wash
out any minute."

   "I'm on my way, Constance.  Take slimeball with you, I'll have enough
trouble in my car already."

   She nodded before turning back into the main cabin calling over her
shoulder, "Randy, get your naked ass moving.  I'm leaving as soon as I get
to the car.  If you aren't in it, you stay here."

   I followed after her, still clutching Sibyl's hand.  She was crying
softly.

   Once in the main cabin I stopped to let Sibyl tie her shoes.  As she
stood up the lights went out, except for a small emergency, battery powered
light by the door, as Randy flipped off the power before following
Constance out the door.  She never looked back to see if he was following.

   Sibyl and I sloshed out to my Jeep.  Stopping at the car we saw Randy's
naked ass flop down in the passenger seat of their Mercedes.  Constance
didn't wait for him to buckle the seatbelt around his naked middle before
she had the car moving.  Looked to me like he hadn't even closed the car
door tight before she drove off.

   My Jeep was the only vehicle left.

   Wasting no time I backed around and headed out.  Turning the corner and
glimpsing the bridge I certainly understood the engineer's concern.  It
couldn't have been forty-five minutes since Constance and I had turned
around there.  At that time there was an inch of water over the road.  Now
it was at least five inches deep and rising.  We watched Constance drive
the Mercedes over the bridge, the car throwing rooster-tails up behind it.

   When we reached the bridge white froth from the creek was covering the
roadway and bridge.  Driving over it I felt the bridge sway.

   It was a silent drive back to the city, with Sibyl hunched up against
the passenger door, staring out the window.  Once we were well past the
bridge I had handed her the shirt and pants I'd stowed there earlier.  She
wasted no time struggling into them.  Driving slowly because of weather
conditions, not sure what else might have been happening along our
wilderness route it, was an hour before we reached the main highway.

   Sibyl finally broke the silence, "Peter, we have to talk.  I don't want
to lose you.  I know it didn't look like it, but I love you.  Please, can
we talk?  It wasn't what it seemed."

   "Sibyl, we do have to talk.  But in a moving car, like this, isn't the
place.  I have to be able to see you; look into your eyes.  And maybe we
should let a few hours go by first."

   "Peter, we have to talk.  I agree sitting here in the car isn't the
place, but we have to start tonight.  I can't let you have all night to
brood about what you saw without telling you what happened.  Give me a
chance to talk.  Please!  We can go to my place, or yours, or someplace. 
But we have to start talking tonight!  Please?"

   Nodding my head, I drove on, heading for her apartment.  Not another
word was said until we walked into her place forty-some minutes later.

   Sibyl made coffee, which she badly needed.  Dragging her out of her sin
nest it was very obvious to me, who knew her so well, that she was "under
the influence".  Now she was coming down, and the recipient of an early
stage hangover.  The tension between us didn't make it any easier.

   I sat down at her kitchen table, figuring this a more suitable venue for
the discussion than the living room where we had enjoyed so many tender
moments.  She brought the coffeepot with her, then sat down catty-corner to
where I was sitting.  Fixing her eyes on her coffee, she waited.

   Leaning back in my chair, I sipped my coffee and also waited.

   Finally she began in a small voice, "You know I dated Randy before I met
you, Peter.  While I was working in Randy's department, he and I spent a
lot of time together.  Nothing permanent, but if he or I didn't have a date
on Saturday, we would call the other and often got together.  Until I met
you, some of the people around us thought we were a couple.  The week after
I was promoted to supervise my new department I met you.  From that time on
I have never dated, nor wanted to date, anyone else.  You were my man."

   She sipped her coffee for a moment, then added, "You still are."

   I grunted acknowledgement that I had heard her, neither agreeing nor
disagreeing with what she was saying.

   After a moment, she continued, "It was great this afternoon, seeing so
many of my friends from the Accounting Department.  That included Randy of
course.  When we stopped dating it didn't mean we were no longer friends.
But you already know that.  This afternoon I was drinking a lot more than I
usually do, for no real reason.  Since you were the designated driver I
didn't pay any attention to it.  For that matter, we had come prepared to
spend the whole weekend if things looked like fun.  So I wasn't paying a
lot of attention to how much I drank, and I was having fun.  Looking back
on it now, Looking back, it seemed Randy was always freshening my drink. 
So maybe he was trying to get me drunk.  I wasn't paying any attention,
after all, I was there with you."

   "Sometime during the afternoon Randy and I began reminiscing about the
"good old days".  And sometime that afternoon Randy and I shared a joint.
That's something I never told you about, Peter.  In our age group an
occasional joint isn't frowned on, though I know you disagree with the
popular opinion that it does no harm.  I agree with you now, and I've
always been afraid to tell you about doing that.  You always seem so
vehement about it.  But I did enjoy a toke occasionally.  Tonight I had to
be drunker than I thought and a toke sounded like fun.  That's no excuse,
Peter, I know no one was pouring the booze down my throat."

   "Anyway, one of main effects that stuff has on me is making me terribly
horny.  Since you were at the party, I didn't see it as a problem.  And it
would have been OK except for Randy.  As I was getting more and more
amorous, Randy kept steering the conversation to the intimacies the two of
us had shared before I met you.  Looking back on it several hours later, he
was leading me slowly down the garden path."

   Sibyl paused, and we both waited silently for a time.

   "When the "beer emergency" occurred," she continued, "Randy jumped
immediately to the fact you were driving your Jeep, and therefore should be
the one to go re-supply the party.  It made sense to me, and as high as I
was I knew I shouldn't be going anyplace until I sobered up some.  That's
why I was so quick to agree you should leave for the beer and also why I
didn't go with you.  It never occurred to me how long you would be gone, or
how vulnerable I was at that moment.  If anyone had asked me, I would have
laughed at them..."

   "I would have been wrong."

   She paused to sip her cooling coffee.  "I was surprised when Randy sent
his wife off with you.  They haven't been married that long and I didn't
expect him to want to be away from her during a party."

   "Your Jeep wasn't even out of sight before Randy asked if he could show
off the cabin that had just been set aside for he and his wife.  Thinking
about it now, I can see it was a way of asking if I wanted to see his
etchings.  That just occurred to me.  I sure wish I had seen it before!"

   "We chattered happily along as he led me along the covered walkway.  The
door to his cabin was locked when we got there, but of course he had the
key, and then we were inside.  He made no attempt to turn on any lights,
which would have told people someone was in the cabin.  That might have
brought visitors.  I can see all of this now, hours later, but none of it
occurred to me at the time."

   She looked at me, "Peter, it sounds like I'm making excuses for my
behavior, but that's not the case.  This is what happened, and my drinking
and smoking dope were my decisions.  They are not an excuse."

   I nodded slightly, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with her statement.

   "After Randy shut the door, he took me in his arms, looked down into my
eyes and said we had to do this for old times sake, a way to say goodbye.
Then he kissed me."

   "I tried not to respond, but he was very domineering and I couldn't get
out of his arms.  I was pretty drunk too, which made it all the easier for
Randy."

   "Before I realized what was happening, he was steering us locked
together in an embrace across the room and into the hall.  Nothing I did
seemed to even slow him up, and my body was responding to his kisses and
petting.  He paused a moment in the hall and I believed he had realized I
didn't want to do anything with him.  His hands were still quite active,
but it wasn't until I felt the chill air as he pulled my shirt off that I
understood he was undressing me."

   "Peter, I swear!  I struggled but he just held me with one arm while
unbuttoning my slacks.  I was concentrating on pulling my arms loose so I
could take his hand off my clothes, and by that time I was crying and
begging him to stop.  Then as he pushed the door open to his bedroom he
stooped and pulled me over his shoulder.  I shrieked and beat on his back,
but the rain was so loud on the roof I knew no one could hear me.  I could
hardly hear myself.  He just laughed as he pulled my pants down and off. 
He must have dropped them at the door, because when he stooped to put me
down his hands were empty and I was stripped to my bra and panties."

   "When I dressed this morning I was excited about putting them on.  I
expected to model them for you tonight, either at the party if we accepted
the all weekend invitation, or when you brought me home after the party.  I
had been so excited when I put them on!"

   "Peter, I really fought him then, as hard as I could.  But he just
pulled me into his arms and kissed me.  I was so horny that I couldn't
fight my body, but I wasn't going to give in to him passively and was
pounding him on the head as hard as I could.  He paid no attention to me,
just reached around behind me and ripped the back of my bra apart, then
shoved me backwards.  I lost my balance and began flailing my arms trying
to catch myself before I fell.  Randy reached out and grabbed a bra cup in
each hand, then pushed hard against my chest with his knuckles.  As I fell
backward he jerked back and to the sides, tearing my beautiful bra into two
pieces.  He jerked so hard I flew forward into his arms instead of falling
on my back.  Feeling my naked breasts rub against his shirt inflamed me as
always.  I kept pounding on his back, but it was hard fighting my body and
Randy, too."

   "Randy picked me up by the thong that almost covered me, and carried me
to the bed.  He bounced me up and down once, holding me in the air by the
thong.  Then dropped me hard onto my feet where my knees started to sag,
then wrenched upward.  For a moment I thought he was going to lift me off
my feet again, but the sheer fabric of the lingerie gave way and I fell
backwards instead, landing on my back on the bed."

   "Holding me down with one hand, Randy began playing with my naked body,
cupping a hand around my mound, teasing my button, and then driving two
fingers into me, over and over again.  As horny as I was, my body
completely betrayed me.  Within moments I was moaning and writhing, clawing
at him.  I was desperate for sexual release, yet still trying to fight him
at the same time.  He tossed me into the center of the bed, then calmly
took off his clothes, folded them and placed them on a chair.  I watched
him doing this, my mind not fully understanding what was going to happen
next.  I thought I was going to go crazy with lust.  I thought I had won
and he was going to let me alone."

   "Once naked, he walked triumphantly to the end of the bed.  I realized
what he was going to do and tried to roll over and off the bed.  Instead he
captured my legs, one at time, where he pulled off my shoes.  Then he fell
forward, and without pausing buried his face in my sex to begin licking and
sucking me.  Within seconds I was so overcome with lust that reason left
me."

   "I can't tell you exactly what happened after that, except that he was
soon inside me, driving me toward orgasm.  As hot as I was he would have
had me orgasming immediately if he were close to the lover you are.  Still,
he was moving toward my peak."

   "Peter, I was almost there when the lights came on.  I saw you standing
in the doorway and my reason returned."

   She broke into tears again, her hands covering her face as the sobs
wracked her small body.  I wanted to reach across the table and pull her
into my arms, but knew I couldn't do so.  It was then that I understood I
still loved her, despite what I had seen.  I also believed what she had
told me.  There were rumors around about Randy.  This sounded exactly like
the kind of trick Randy would pull.

   Reaching to her, I pulled Sibyl's hands away from her face.  Her eyes
red from weeping, her tear-ravaged face was distorted with her grief. 
"Sibyl, I'd like to try to work this out.  But it won't be easy.  If I had
heard you were unfaithful and afterward you told me this story it would
have been hard to handle but nothing sounds like your fault.  But I watched
you responding to another man's caress.  I saw it, Sibyl.  It will be hard
to put that behind me, and I don't think I'll ever be able to forget it."

   "For us to continue we somehow have to regain the trust we lost tonight.
I'm saying we both have to regain the trust.  You know what this has cost
me, and you will need reassurance that I believe in you again.  Until you
accept that I can fully trust you, you won't be able to fully trust me. 
It's a two-way street.  I've got some ideas we can try, if you want to hear
them.  They won't be easy; on either of us."

   A sudden spark appeared in her eyes, "Peter I'll do anything I can to
make you believe in me again.  Please!  Tell me what you are thinking."

   "First, we have to stay away from one another for a while.  Not long! 
But we need time to let the fire of the poisons burn down.  I'm afraid if
we don't we might just re-ignite the jealousy.  And if we can't get beyond
that, there is potential for hatred.  I want us to stay away from one
another for at least two weeks.  Not even talk on the phone for at least a
few days.  I think at least a week, maybe all of the two weeks before we
even talk.  Then we can get together, maybe for dinner maybe for a picnic
and walk on the beach."

   "It's going to be tough to do, Sibyl.  Both of us will be thinking about
tonight, wondering about the other.  But if our love is deep enough, strong
enough, I think the separation will pull us together.  Do you agree, or do
you see that as unworkable?  Can you think of anything easier that would
work?"

   There was silence in the kitchen, as we sat and tried to look one
another in the face.  The sound of the rain outside covered even the sound
of her grandfather clock in the living room.

   It seemed hours before Sibyl broke the silence.  "Peter, I don't want to
be alone for even a minute.  But I understand.  It even sounds wise.  It
will be hell for me to live through, but it is something we can do.  Maybe
it will allow us both to see things more clearly.  I pray it will, I don't
know what I would do if I lost you.  I will pray that you forgive me."

   After a moment I spoke, "If I can accept your story, Sibyl, no
forgiveness will be necessary.  Maybe a promise to be more careful of your
surroundings."

   "This next thing sounds irrevocable, but I don't mean it to be so.  I
hope... I expect our love is strong enough to see us through this.  And at
this point I'm not sure that the real problem isn't with me and my
selfishness.  That's something we will have to work out.  But I want you to
return my ring, our engagement ring... Now...  Tonight."

   Her eyes teared again, though she didn't make a sound.

   "When we are through this, I want to be able to formally ask you again
to be mine.  The way this has hit me, you may want to think about whether
you want to accept again.  Until then, there will be no formal
acknowledgement of our union.  Nothing anyone can point to.  We will know
it isn't over; neither of us will comment whether we are now together or
apart.  But you won't have that bauble on your finger to look at for
reassurance.  In a way it is a mini-divorce, a separation if you will.  But
I do NOT expect it to be permanent.  I still love you, and I am hoping that
our love for one another will pull us through this."

   "Luckily we haven't yet set a date for the wedding so no ones plans need
be put on hold.  I won't say a word about any of this to anyone.  Can you
do that, too?"

   Sibyl gave me a weak smile through her tears as she slowly pulled the
diamond off the third finger of her left hand.  Looking me in the eye, she
kissed the ring, then voicelessly it to me.

   I took the ring, and still looking into her eyes I too kissed the ring.

   After carefully putting it away in my wallet, I pushed my chair back and
rose.  "Honey, it's best I go now.  I'll call you week after next at the
latest; maybe earlier.  Then we can plan dinner, maybe at one of Ivar's
restaurants.  Maybe go to that lodge in the mountains at the tiny town of
Index.  It is rustic, beautiful, and remote; and they have comfortable
rooms in their Inn.  It's a place I've wanted to take you; but we can talk
about it when I call.  I love you.  I really do.  Take care of my woman."

   With that I turned and walked out the door, only turning just before the
door shut for our eyes to meet.  As I turned the Jeep back onto the road to
drive home I felt that we could get through this.  I was certain Randy and
Constance would have difficulty saying the same.  I felt very sorry for
Constance.  She was a nice woman and deserved better than the man she had
so far been saddled with.  At least she hadn't spent a decade with him,
maybe bearing his children before she discovered how hollow he was at the
core.

   Five Months Later

   Setting her coffee cup on the end table, Sibyl rested her head back
against the lounger while she enjoyed the view from her living room window.
So much had happened since that miserable storm.  That week she had spent
praying for Peter's phone call had seemed like a year, maybe two.  She
hadn't slept, couldn't eat.  She had gone to work Monday and Tuesday, but
called in sick for the rest of the week.

   Only Constance, Peter and herself, and of course Randy, knew what had
happened.  Constance called her the day after her talk with Peter. 
Constance was worried about her after Peter called her and explained what
had happened.  Constance and Sibyl had been friends before that night, and
Sibyl had been sure she had lost her friendship along with everything else.


   To her embarrassment, Sibyl had broken into tears on the telephone.  As
soon as they had hung up the phone, Constance had left to drive over to
Sibyl's and they had spent hours talking and crying together.  Constance
had insisted over and over again that it wasn't Sibyl's fault.

   Constance had driven Randy home that night.  As soon as she was in the
apartment she threw some blankets into the living room and locked her
bedroom door.  Since Randy had turned their spare bedroom into an office,
she made him spend that night on the couch.

   The next day Randy and she had talked, which resulted in Randy going to
his single brothers place until they could get things worked out between
them.  The brother, a quiet, studious man, wasn't at all happy to have his
brother as a houseguest under those conditions.  He had never been happy
with Randy's partying ways and made it clear to him while Randy was living
with him.

   Early the next week Randy and Constance sat down in the brother's
apartment.  Randy was miserable, having faced the consequences of his Don
Juan ways and was subdued.  He readily agreed to marital counseling.  He
did love his wife despite his philandering and knew he had a problem.

   It hardly seemed credible to Sibyl, but Constance believed Randy was
really trying to mend his ways.  After her experience she didn't think it
at all likely, but she couldn't tell Constance that.  Her friend did agreed
it was too early to take Randy's reform to be a certainty.  But Randy was
getting another chance, and would be moving back in with Constance next
weekend.

   Sibyl hoped, for Constance's sake, that he was serious but at least
Constance agreed he had a lot to prove.  According to Constance, he knew
her trust was very shaky.  The old saw held true here, as always, only time
would tell.

   Peter had called her Saturday morning, just barely a week after that
fateful discussion.  They made a date for dinner the next Saturday.  He
picked hr up for the date, and took her to dinner at the Space Needle.  It
had been exquisite.  Cozy, romantic, with an incredible view of the city,
Elliot Bay and the sound.  The night had been clear, the moon bright, with
Mt.  Rainier dominating the horizon beyond the city lights.  To the West,
the rugged, snowy Olympic Mountains added their mystery where they rose
beyond the inland sea that was Puget Sound.

   She had been afraid to hope, but leaving the car Peter had taken her
hand and held it until they were seated.  Peter kept the conversation light
until dessert.  Over dessert and an aperitif Peter apologized to her. 
Assuring her she had done nothing wrong, he explained it took him some
lonely nights to realize what he saw had not been anything of Sibyl's
doing.

   They had talked every day since.  Six weeks after their dinner at the
Space Needle Peter had taken her to brunch in the little mountain village
of Index.  That afternoon they had driven into the Cascade Mountains behind
the lodge and walked a short way into a tiny mountain lake.  There, Peter
had again proposed, and it had been more special than the first time. 
Despite Peter telling he her he wasn't sure what her answer would be, there
was never a doubt in Sibyl's mind what her answer would be.

   It had been so special.

   Sibyl insisted on a simple wedding.  Peter had urged they not wait and
were married just a month later.  After the Saturday afternoon wedding they
had returned to Index, where they had spent the following week as guests at
the lodge.

   Checking the time, Sibyl jumped up to take the Roast out of the oven. 
Tonight was Peter's birthday, and he would be home in just ten minutes. 
This one would be very special to him, because tonight at dinner she would
break the news that he was going to be a Daddy.  She just had time to
change into her new lingerie she had purchased for Peter's birthday.

   When he walked in the door she handed him a brandy before sitting him
down to the meal and her news.