Never Alone

Never Alone Part 3 of 4

I stared disbelievingly at the stranger sitting before me. How could he be my grandfather? I'd never met him before; I didn't even know he existed. I'd always believed that Grandpa Allen was my grandfather. My mind refused to accept this new bit of information. It was too much to believe that everyone I knew-everyone I trusted-had lied to me my entire life.

Lily and...what did I call him? Mr. Snyder? Fletcher? Grandpa? Whoever he was, he and Lily now watched my face carefully, wearing identical concerned expressions.

Finally, I managed to find my voice. "How...?"

They exchanged glances, their eyes seeming to have an entire conversation in just a few seconds.

"Not here," he said after a moment.

Lily nodded. "Jacy, this is a conversation we should probably have somewhere else. Fletcher lives nearby. Would you be okay with going there to talk?"

I nodded woodenly as some small part of my brain registered the fact that Lily called him Fletcher. Is that what they would expect me to call him too? I decided it would do for now anyway. At least I'd have something to call him in my own mind. I stood in shocked immobility while the two of them quickly packed his wares into cardboard boxes. It only took two boxes to pack his herbal items and a tarp was thrown over the book table. Lily plopped one of the boxes into my arms, picked up the other one, and started walking in the direction of the parking lot. I stared dumbly after her for a few seconds. My brain seemed to be having trouble keeping up.

"Better follow her, Jacy," Fletcher said with a hint of humor in his voice. "Lily waits for no man."

"What about you?" I asked.

"I'll meet you at my house. I'm parked somewhere else."

I nodded and rushed to catch up with my aunt. I was halfway to the parking lot when Skye and I spotted each other at the same time. He took a few steps in my direction, but something in my face must have warned him off. He gave me a small wave, which I couldn't return for the box in my hands. We maintained eye contact until a group of people surged between us, cutting him off from my view. Something else to figure out, I thought wearily. As if I don't have enough going on.

When I arrived at Lily's car, she already had the trunk open and her box loaded. Without a word, she took my box from me, dropped it in next to the other one, and slammed the truck closed. "Hop in," she said.

I mutely did as ordered as she climbed into the driver's seat and started the car.

"Jacy, I'm sorry to have sprung this on you all at once," she said as she drove. "Maybe that wasn't the best decision, but I didn't know how else to tell you."

"I just don't understand," I said weakly.

"I think we'd better wait and let Fletcher explain."

"Why do you call him Fletcher?"

She paused a moment. "I never really knew him as a father until I was an adult. By that time, I already had a father, the man who'd raised me."

"Grandpa Allen," I supplied.

"Right. When I became closer to Fletcher, it just felt natural to call him that."

"Why didn't you see him as a child?"

"Like I said, I think I should let Fletcher explain."

We fell into silence and soon after, Lily pulled into the driveway of what I assumed to be Fletcher's house. It was set well back from the road, trees liberally dotted the front yard and the forest seemed to crowd right up to the back of the small dwelling. With its weathered cedar siding and redwood deck, the house itself looked less like it had been built and more like it had simply grown from the soft mossy ground it sat upon. The landscaping could best be described as naturalistic. Sunlight beamed through the canopy above to create small pools of warmth where wildflowers and what looked to me like unattended weeds competed for attention. The total effect was quite enchanting. It looked like something from a fairy tale.

We climbed out of the car and Lily once again popped open the trunk. We were lifting out the boxes when a huge red Harley Davidson roared into the drive with Fletcher astride it like a conquistador on his horse. My mouth dropped open as I took in the sight. At least now I knew why we'd taken the boxes. Lily grinned at my stunned expression.

Fletcher pulled the bike up next to Lily's car and shut it off. He pulled off his helmet to reveal a grin that matched Lily's watt for watt in intensity. "Not what you expected, eh?" he asked.

I shook my head "no" since words seemed to have failed me yet again.

"Let's go inside. I'll brew up some tea while we talk." He started off for the house with Lily and me trailing behind. I was surprised at the agility with which he moved. Both he and Grandma Allen had to be in their seventies, but he moved like a young man while Grandma Allen's movements were stiff and slow. He unlocked the door and led us into the house's interior. The first thing I noticed was the scent - somewhat spicy yet sweet. Then, as my eyes adjusted to the dimmer light inside, I began to notice the decor. It was southwestern meets the Natural History Museum. The entryway led directly into the living room where an invitingly plump leather sofa and matching chairs provided seating, while pine end tables supported cast iron lamps and beautiful southwestern pottery. Cases on the walls displayed a vast collection of artifacts-everything from arrowheads to tomahawks. A deep bookshelf held more stone tools that I couldn't begin to identify along with an assortment of skulls and bones that I didn't care to look at any closer. Behind the oddments, the shelves were stuffed to overflowing with books.

"I'll make the tea," Lily offered. "You two can get started talking. Jacy has a lot of questions." As she disappeared through a door, I caught a glimpse of a dining room table stacked high with papers.

"My home office," Fletcher said, following my gaze. "I don't have a lot of company. Have a seat."

I sank onto the closest chair, marveling at how comfortable it was. It was almost like getting a hug. Fletcher settled onto the end of the couch with a contented smile. "This furniture is my biggest luxury," he confided. "Well, that and my Harley."

"The chair is very comfortable," I mumbled.

Fletcher grinned. "Yes, it is, but you're not here to discuss my furniture."

I stared back at him without comment.

"You're not going to make this easy, are you?" he asked after a moment.

"I don't even know where to start," I said quite truthfully.

He sighed. "That makes two of us. I guess the beginning's as appropriate a place as any." He paused for a long time, then began to speak in a slightly sing-song tone, "I spent a lot of time with my grandfather when I was a child. He was what you might call a medicine man. He knew the woods better than any survivalist today. He knew every plant, whether it was edible or poisonous and what uses it had. He could tell what animal had passed by its tracks and droppings, identify birds by their calls - it seemed to me that he knew anything you could possibly want to know. I was just a kid at the time and didn't pay as much attention as I wish I had, but some of it still rubbed off. He also taught me a lot about respecting the land...and yourself. I wish I'd listened closer to his lessons about always being proud of who you are."

I wondered where he was going with this rambling story-telling style, but I didn't interrupt.

"When I was a young man, I met and married Vida, your grandmother."

"Grandma Allen?" I asked.

He nodded. "We had five beautiful daughters, but I still wasn't happy. I started looking into the Old Ways that my grandfather had tried to teach me and began to find myself there. It quickly became obvious to both Vida and me what we had to do. The divorce was quite amicable; there were never any hard feelings between us. I was thrilled for her when she met Bob Allen and they got married. It was the girls that had a hard time with it. We felt we couldn't tell them the whole story at the time, and they just couldn't understand. They felt very abandoned, especially Rose, your mother. She'd always been a daddy's girl and my leaving hit her especially hard. Later, when the whole story came out, it just further fueled her hatred for me. I'm pretty sure that's why she chose not to tell you of my existence." He sat watching my face, seemingly waiting for a response.

I thought for a moment. It was obvious that he was leaving a large part of the story out. Was I supposed to question him or just accept it? Was this some sort of test? I made up my mind. "What aren't you telling me?" I asked just as Lily came back into the room bearing a small silver tray laden with steaming tea cups and a sugar pot. She sat the tray on the coffee table and handed Fletcher and me our cups. Fletcher sniffed his appreciatively.

"Clover catnip?" he asked.

Lily nodded as she sat down next to him on the couch.

"Good choice," he said approvingly. Then to me, "Clover catnip tea has very cleansing, soothing qualities."

"You're avoiding my question," I said somewhat impatiently. I sat the cup down on the table next to me, untouched.

Fletcher and Lily exchanged another glance laden with subtext. Lily gave an almost imperceptible nod, and Fletcher turned back to me.

"Jacy, the reason your grandmother and I separated, and part of the reason why your mother tries so hard to pretend I don't exist, is because I am two-spirited."

I stared at him blankly. "What does that mean?"

He frowned as if he'd expected me to understand. "I see you truly do have a lot to learn," he said with a sigh. There was no blame in his voice, but I couldn't help bristling. He quickly noticed. "That's not your fault, Jacy. You can't know what you weren't taught. This will be a simplified explanation, but our ancestors believed that most people are born with either a male spirit or a female spirit. However, some are born with two spirits, both male and female. These people were held in a very high regard because they were seen as being closer to the Creator. They often held positions of authority and respect within their communities - healers, mediators, shamans. They often had spiritual powers that set them apart."

My brain was racing to keep up. "Wait," I blurted out. "Do you mean you're gay?"

He blinked for a second, startled out of his recital. "Well, I guess some people might say that I am. Being a two-spirit is much more than just being gay or bisexual though. Not every gay person is two-spirited, but all two-spirited people are bisexual or gay with bisexual leanings."

"You're gay?" I repeated, just to make sure I understood him. He nodded. No wonder Mom wouldn't acknowledge him. Not only did he leave them when she was young, but he was gay. That would not go over well with Mom's religious beliefs. But according to Fletcher, our ancestors had not only accepted homosexuality, but respected it. Wait a minute! My grandfather is gay! As that thought struck me, all other thoughts fled. My grandfather is gay-the grandfather I didn't even know existed until less than an hour ago. My thoughts immediately went to Skye and the kiss he'd given me. Is it hereditary? I quickly skittered away from that thought. I wasn't prepared to deal with it just yet-one thing at a time. "You're gay," I said again.

"Just to get it all out at once, so am I," Lily added with an amused expression on her face. "But much to Fletcher's disappointment, I'm not a two-spirit, just your regular old garden variety lesbian."

My brain was on overload. "Does Mom know?" I asked numbly.

"It's never come up in conversation," she said drolly.

We were all quiet for a few seconds. "Explain the difference to me again," I asked after a minute.

Fletcher beamed like I'd just passed some sort of test. "As I said, not all gay and lesbian people are two-spirited. The difference is that two-spirited people are given certain other...let's call them gifts for lack of a better word. These gifts bring with them a certain level of responsibility. In most Native cultures, people who were two-spirits had very specific roles."

"It wasn't just in our culture? It was also in other cultures?"

"Oh yes! Almost all tribes were aware of the existence of two-spirit people, and most still have a name for them. The Navaho called them nàdleehé-one who is 'transformed'. The Lakota Sioux called them winkte, the Mohave alyha, the Zuni lhamana, the Omaha mexoga, the Aleut and Kodiak achnucek, the Zapotec ira' muxe, the Cheyenne he man eh, just to name a few. They all believed that two-spirit people were born that way, and they not only saw them as normal, but as a necessary part of society. They almost always became spiritual leaders in their villages."

"You keep using the past tense; it's not like that anymore?"

Fletcher's face grew sad. "Sadly, no. As in many other things, we've been too influenced by Judeo-Christian beliefs. There is some resurgence recently of the two-spirit tradition, but it is something of an uphill battle at this point."

"So our tribe doesn't accept it?"

Lily laughed. "Fletcher hasn't given them a choice. He's been so active in tribal life since he came out that everyone has pretty much accepted it. Even the most conservative elders pretty much just ignore it. After all, no one can deny how influential Fletcher is in tribal matters. He's our unofficial medicine man." Fletcher opened his mouth to argue, but Lily cut him off. "I know you hate the term, Fletcher, but you know it's true. You mediate conflicts, you help keep the Old Ways and traditions alive, you teach the young ones-heck, you even heal with your herbal remedies."

"I prefer the term Native Herbalist," he said with dignity. Lily just grinned at him. Their little exchange allowed some of what I'd just learned to sink in and I discovered I had a lot more questions.

"So are you saying that you have magical powers?" I asked suddenly. They both turned to look at me with surprised expressions.

"Excuse me?" Fletcher asked.

"You said earlier that two-spirit people had magical powers."

"No, I said they had spiritual powers."

"What's the difference?"

"There's a huge difference. Magical powers imply that I cast spells and keep a pointy hat in my closet. I'm not Professor Dumbledore. The spiritual powers can come in many different forms. For some, it's just a heightened perception that allows them to see more clearly. Some are dreamers. Some are healers. Some are seers. Some are all or a combination of these and other gifts."

"What are you?"

"A little of each."

"So...you can see the future?"

He smiled. "It's not like gazing into a crystal ball. I get glimpses of what is to come, sometimes clearer than others. I see what the Creator wants me to see."

Lily was studying me closely. We made eye contact and I knew without a doubt that she was thinking about my vision of Skye getting hit by that car. I shook my head "no", but she just lifted an eyebrow. I knew what she was trying to imply, and I was having none of it.

"Look, this is a lot to take in. I didn't even know I had a grandfather before today, and then I not only find out that you exist, but also that you're gay and some sort of...psychic. I think I need to go home and think about all this for a while."

Fletcher nodded. "I can understand that. It was a lot to dump in your lap all at once. I'm here if you have any questions. Lily, could you get him one of my cards, please?"

Lily left the room through the door into the home office/dining room again, returning less than a minute later with a cream colored business card, which she handed to me. In large letters across the top it read "Fletcher Snyder - Native Herbalist". Under that was his address, phone number, and, to my surprise, his email address and website.

"You have a website?" I asked.

"That's how I make most of my sales," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "I may practice the Old Ways in some things, but I'm very much a part of the twenty-first century as well."

"Are you ready to go?" Lily asked. "I'll give you a ride back to your car."

I nodded and stood up, slipping the card into my pocket. "It's been...interesting," I said with a half-smile, which was as much as I could muster.

"Don't be afraid to contact me with your questions," Fletcher said.

I nodded and followed Lily out to the car. Neither of us spoke for a while, but finally she cleared her throat.

"You know you can talk to me any time too, Jacy," she said gently, "...about anything." There was a slight emphasis on the word anything, but I chose to ignore it.

I nodded.

"I'm serious, Jacy. Don't just close yourself off to Fletcher and me. You need to talk about all this with someone."

"I'm not really ready to talk yet," I said.

"I guess I can understand that." She paused. "Are you okay with the fact that I'm gay?"

I glanced over at her and shrugged. "I haven't really had time to think about it, but I guess that doesn't really matter to me. I'm not as hung up on church and stuff as Mom is. It's a little weird though; I've never known anyone who is gay and then I meet two in one day."

"Three," she corrected absently.

"Three?"

"Skye," she said, and I felt myself blush. I quickly turned to look out the window.

"You can talk about that with me too, if you want," Lily offered tentatively.

"There's nothing to talk about," I said quickly with what I hoped was a note of finality.

We fell into silence as we drew closer to the powwow grounds. I could see campers and tents among the trees through my side window. I assumed that was where the powwow participants from out of town stayed. It looked like a traveling gypsy camp with clothes hanging outside, barbecue grills wafting smoke like ancient campfires, and children running and playing among the temporary dwellings. It might have looked something like this a thousand years ago, I thought, without the modern accoutrements, of course.

Suddenly, something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. I looked forward in time to see a small child dart into the road in front of our car. I only had time to gasp and throw my hands out toward the windshield. I blinked and the child was gone.

"Stop," I gasped with an intensity that startled even me.

"What?" Lily asked with confusion.

"Stop the car." Panic was squeezing my chest so tightly I could barely breathe. "Now!"

Lily slammed on the brakes and the car screeched to a shuddering halt just as a little girl no older than two toddled into the road in front of us, giggling, blissfully oblivious to how close she had come to death. A young woman, probably the child's mother, rushed out after the girl, scooping her up and waving apologetically to us, only marginally more aware of how close she had come to losing her child.

Lily sat unmoving, staring out at the road and sucking in short, shallow gasps of air. A car pulled up behind us and honked its horn, but still Lily didn't move. The car finally pulled carefully around us, the driver staring over angrily at us as he passed.

"Lily?" I asked after few minutes. "Aunt Lily?"

She turned slowly to face me, her dark eyes unreadable. "Jacy, we have to talk."

Once again, I begged out of the big discussion by saying I needed to think about things for a while. Lily agreed, but very reluctantly.

"You can't put this off forever, Jacy," she warned. "Your gifts are going to keep manifesting themselves, and it's going to get harder and harder to deal with it if you don't understand them. Fletcher can help if you'll let him."

I simply climbed out of the car and waved goodbye. I avoided thinking about the whole messy subject for the rest of the night. It helped that I had some distraction in the form of Michael. He showed up at my bedroom door later that night with a hesitant knock.

"Come in," I called from my place in front of my latest canvas. I'd been painting since I got home, my thoughts carefully focused on pigments and brushstrokes. The painting was more abstract than usual, really just a splash of colors.

Michael slid into the room. "So," he said expectantly.

I looked up from the painting. "So?"

"You said you wanted to talk to me tonight."

It took a few seconds to remember the incident from earlier that day. It seemed like a millennium had passed since then. It somehow seemed much less important now.

"Oh, that."

Michael raised an eyebrow. "I've been waiting for my lecture all night, and now all I get is an 'oh that'? You were pretty pissed this afternoon."

I shrugged. "A lot's happened since then," I said simply. Then, as an afterthought, added, "But stay out of my car."

He stood there for a few beats while I started painting again. "So that's it?" he asked after a while.

"Yep," I replied.

"You're not going to tell Mom and Dad?"

"Nope."

He stood there a minute longer. "Hey Jay, is everything okay?" he asked suddenly.

I stopped painting and looked up at him. He almost never called me Jay anymore; it was his nickname for me when we were kids. "Why?" I asked guardedly.

"You said a lot happened today, and you're definitely not yourself. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Okay. Well, uh, if you change your mind, you know where I am," he said awkwardly. He shuffled his feet, then turned to leave.

"Hey Mikey," I called. He stopped and faced me. "Thanks, but I'm just not ready to talk. Okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah. It's cool. And I'll stay out of your car, I promise."

I gave him a weak smile and watched as he slipped out of the room, shutting the door behind himself with a soft click. I turned back to the canvas, but found I was no longer in the mood to paint. I cleaned my brushes, visited the bathroom for my evening ablutions, and then pulled my clothes off before collapsing into bed. I must have been more emotionally exhausted than I'd suspected because I was asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.

It wasn't until the next morning when I went to church and sat in the pew listening to the pastor's sermon about the growing threat of homosexuality that everything suddenly swirled back into the forefront of my thoughts. While the pastor stood at the front of the sanctuary intoning the evils of being gay, I was thinking about the fact that just the day before I'd learned that my grandfather (who I hadn't even known existed) was gay, and so was my aunt-not to mention Skye. And what about you? I asked myself. You can't deny that you're attracted to Skye. Am I gay? I wondered.

Suddenly, I remembered something Fletcher had said, "Not every gay person is two-spirited, but all two-spirited people are bisexual or gay with bisexual leanings." I knew Lily was convinced I was two-spirited and there was no way I could deny the two visions I'd had. In both instances, I'd seen something happen before it actually happened. I'd been able to avert two potential tragedies. Could it be possible that I was a two-spirit? If so, according to Fletcher, I had to be at least bisexual. That would explain my attraction to both girls and Skye. Several things clicked into place at once as a sense of certainty settled over me-and with it a sense of peace like I'd never known. I'm gay and I'm two-spirited. It was easier to accept than I had thought.

Just then, the preacher's words penetrated my thoughts. "Homosexuality is an abomination before the Lord!" he was shouting, his voice quivering with righteous indignation. "And yet, Hollywood is parading that lifestyle before us as if it was completely normal. Every week, they force their filth into our homes on television and in movies. It's time we stood up and made a stand against the immorality before our children are seduced by their lies."

My stomach lurched at the vitriol in his words. Not for the first time, I wondered why some people feel so compelled to force their beliefs on others and how anyone could be so threatened by love in any form. I was tired of the hypocrisy. How could someone who professed to worship a god of love be so full of hate? The longer I sat there the sicker I felt. I had to get out. I would stand up, alright, but not in the way the pastor expected.

I stood and began making my way past my family towards the aisle. I'd sat in the center of the pew, so it was quite a production with my brothers and sisters looking startled and my mother glaring daggers at me. I finally made it to the aisle and walked out the back door of the sanctuary and out of the church. I knew I'd be in a lot of trouble later, but at the moment, I just didn't care. I had to get out of there.

I took several deep breaths of fresh air and waited for my stomach to settle. As usual, we'd all driven in one vehicle so I was stuck until church let out. Either that or I could start walking. I opted for walking. I set off down the road without a clear destination in mind. It was too far to walk home, but it didn't matter. More than anything, I just needed to be moving.

I don't know how long I walked aimlessly down the street before an unfamiliar car pulled over onto the shoulder in front of me. I stopped and stared warily at the black Jetta. The door opened and out stepped Skye. I couldn't help laughing; apparently God has more of a sense of humor than most of his followers credit him with.

A confused look passed over Skye's attractive features. "What's so funny?" he asked.

"Never mind," I said. "What are you doing here?"

"I was on my way to a friend's house when I thought I saw you walking on the side of the road. So I turned around to see if it was you, and if you needed a ride or something."

I smiled at him. "That would be great. Thanks."

"No problem," he said and gestured towards the car. I went around to the passenger side and climbed in. Dance music thumped from the speakers as Skye slid behind the wheel.

"So where were you headed?" he asked after he'd turned down the volume a bit on the stereo.

"I don't know. I was just walking-nowhere in particular."

"You always go for walks dressed like that?"

I looked down at my navy dress pants and button-up light blue oxford shirt and laughed again. "I walked out of church."

He gave me a curious look.

"It's a long story," I said with a grin. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been this happy. I felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

"You seem really happy about something," he said with a smile of his own.

"I am."

"Want to talk about it?"

I couldn't help but giggle. Everyone seemed to be asking me that these days.

"Not really."

He rolled his eyes. "You're a riddle wrapped in mystery, Jacy," he said in an amused tone.

"You don't know the half of it," I said happily.

"I'd like to," he responded seriously.

I glanced over at him with a nervous flutter in my stomach.

"So where am I taking you?" he asked after a few moments of silence.

"I don't know. Would you want to...hang out or something? Oh wait, you were on your way to your friend's, weren't you?"

"That's not a big deal. We didn't have any real plans; I can just call her and tell her something's come up."

"You don't have to do that," I protested half-heartedly.

"I know I don't have to; I want to." He picked up his cell phone and said, "Ebony." He waited a few minutes until Ebony answered. "Hey girl," he said. "Look, plans have changed. I'm not coming over now, but I'll call you later, okay?" He listened for a second then glanced over at me. "I picked up a hitchhiker and now we're going to the zoo." He laughed at her response. "Later, gator," he said teasingly and snapped the phone shut. Immediately, it began to ring with the familiar strains of Cyndi Lauper's "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun". He ignored the phone.

"The zoo, huh?" I asked. I assumed he was talking about the Salisbury Zoo. It was a small zoo here on the Eastern Shore that had won awards as one of the best small zoos in the country. It was only about half an hour from us. I hadn't been there in years.

"Do you mind?"

"That's fine," I said with a smile.

We drove in silence, but he kept sneaking little looks in my direction. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.

"What?" I asked.

"What?" he echoed.

"Why do you keep looking at me?"

He laughed. "You mean besides the fact that you're really cute?"

I felt myself blush. "I am not," I mumbled.

"You so totally are," he chuckled. "But the main reason I keep looking at you is because you seem really different today. When I last saw you yesterday, you looked like you had just seen a ghost. Now, it's like you can't stop smiling."

"I feel different. I am different. A lot has changed since we talked yesterday."

"How can things change so much in one day?"

I shrugged. "It's all in how you look at things. I know things now that I didn't know yesterday. I've accepted things that I was still fighting yesterday."

"Like what?" When I hesitated, he said, "I don't mean to be nosy, but you keep making these cryptic comments. I can't help but be curious."

I conceded his point with a nod. "I found out yesterday that I had a grandfather I never knew about," I told him. It wasn't the whole story, but I hoped it would be enough to sate his curiosity.

"Wow," he breathed. "That's pretty intense. How come you didn't know about him?"

"My mom never told me about him."

"So how did you find out?"

"My aunt introduced us."

"Lily?"

"Yeah."

He thought a moment and put two and two together. "Fletcher Snyder is your grandfather?"

"Apparently."

"Wow. Well, he's a really cool guy, so if you're going to get an instant grandfather, you could have done worse."

He pulled into the parking lot of the zoo, and slid into a space. We got out and started walking through the zoo at a leisurely pace, stopping at the various enclosures to watch the animals. We lingered for a while over the otters and monkeys, enjoying their playfulness, and admired the sleek black jaguar. I felt myself relaxing more and more in Skye's company. His occasional casual touch electrified me, and I found myself wishing he would kiss me again. After we'd made our way through the zoo, he suggested we walk along the park trail. I quickly agreed-anything to extend my time with him and delay going home.

We passed by the playground, leaving the sounds of children laughing and playing behind us. We came to a small bridge over a tributary of the river and stopped at its center. I leaned over the rail and watched the fish darting around just below the water's surface. I felt Skye slide his arms around my waist as his chin fit into my shoulder. Instinctively, I tensed and quickly looked around, but there were no other people in sight. I consciously relaxed into his embrace.

"Something else has changed about you since yesterday," he said softly.

"What's that?" I answered, matching his intimate tone.

"You would have freaked out if I did this yesterday."

I gently twisted around so that I was facing him, his arms still around me. "That was yesterday."

"What changed?" he asked as his lips drew closer to mine.

"Everything," I answered as I leaned in to complete the kiss.

To be continued...

More about the author:

Josh Aterovis, a twenty-something artist-author, was born and bred on the Eastern Shore of Maryland and lives there with his partner, Jon. Aterovis is a Latin pseudonym meaning "black sheep."

Whenever anyone asked Josh what he wanted to be when he grew up, he always said an author. It got him plenty of strange looks, but he never really expected it to come true; it was just one of those things a kid says. In 1999, Josh's wishful dream became reality when he began to write a story and post it on the Internet. Bleeding Hearts resonated deeply with readers, who encouraged him to seek publication, and in 2001, the story was published by Renaissance Alliance Publishing, Inc. Named the Best Whodunit of 2002 by the Stonewall Society, Bleeding Hearts became the first book in the Killian Kendall mystery series.

Reap the Whirlwind, his second book featuring amateur sleuth Killian Kendall, was published in May of 2003. Josh has completed four books in the series and is currently working on the fifth. He has won numerous awards for his writing and for his web site, which also features his well-received art gallery: www.steliko.com/bleedinghearts.

Email feedback to Aterovis@comcast.net