We all have a past, Diary. Have we discussed this concept before? No, I'm really not being a smart ass; I was just testing.

So the past, eh? Funny the famous sayings about the past and how you can't outrun it. It must really haunt a lot of us for there to be so many, I guess. There are a few in my quote ditty bag, Diary. Like good old Bill Shakespeare, of course, does have this snippet that has always stuck with me: "What's past is prologue." Trust Bill to say it short, sweet and fully packed with foreboding, eh? But then there's the great John Steinbeck, who found hope where I would never have looked: "How can we live without our lives? How will we know it's us without our past?"

Oh, well ... yeah, as Dino might say. Don't let me forget what's probably the saying on this subject that leaps first to the mind for most people; it's the oft-reformatted quote by George Santayana: "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it."

There's a poet named James Russell Lowell who lived in the early 1800s who wrote this long poem about facing the crisis the nation found itself in when it was still in its infancy. I remember in grade school wondering what the fuck he was talking about but later, in college, I had a history prof who made me see it in a whole new way. My understanding of the poem changes with each stage of my life. Just now, I seem to read it and this one point sticks with me - it's when he's saying that in going forward, the new country should not "attempt the Future's portal with the Past's blood-rusted key." Damn, but that's such a profound image.

It always surprises non-military people that someone like Gen. MacArthur said things that sometimes rose to almost poetry. Like he described the kind of son he wanted the Lord to give him and among the things he hoped for would be that the boy would grow to be someone "who will reach into the future, yet never forget the past." See? Even an old warhorse like the General romped over the territory of how the past affects our future.

And there's that quote from Aristotle that I have always loved for how fatalistic it is: "One thing alone not even God can do, To make undone whatever hath been done." No changing the past, eh, Ari? Ah, but then, he never met the Portals, did he? Wonder what he would have thought of how Dino and Terry had used Terry's portal to send Dino back to play the stock market? That certainly seemed to be a good way to use knowledge of the present to change the past to me.

Ah, those portals. It's something I have thought about so much, you see. And here's something I've come to ponder. Isn't my portal as much a key to the past as it was for Dino? Didn't I learn from Jack that he could choose whatever period of his past he would go to when he went through his portal?

So, yeah, I have a past. Mmm hmmm. Yeah. Made some mistakes back then but haven't we all? I think if there's one thing I truly like about myself it's that I do learn from my mistakes and I tend to not repeat them. My cousin Reggie used to laugh at me when I would tell him that I didn't have energy to waste on repeating old mistakes because I was too busy making up a whole new batch of mistakes.

I think one reason all this was on my brain on that day as I sat on the hood of my car and mused about my past and all my mistakes that seemed to have built my future was because I was waiting for Lachlan. Hey, no offense against this wonderful man -- it wasn't his fault I was in this mode, honest! It's just that we were going to be spending some time during his visit reliving his time period of the 1940s. And his plane was late ... er ... no, the truth was, I was way too early to meet his plane. But I'd been this nervous wreck since the day before and I ... oh, sweet Lord.

This huge giggle came bubbling up in me as I caught what I was doing. Geez, no wonder I was in a bit of an odd mood. My mind always takes wild meanderings when I am nervous.

Nervous.

I don't think I'd been nervous about meeting one of the men in our group in ... well, in a long time. And it wasn't even like this was the first time I would meet him. But those other two times had not amounted to anything more than a fly-by greeting each time. I'd shook his hand and briefly chatted with him in New York months ago when I'd been up there on my mission of intervention with Terry. Then I saw him that last day at Temple Week but honestly my attention was not too much on him. Well, except ... except ... except at that point I had already invited him for a visit and I did look at him. I mean ... I looked. He looked good. But it was more than that. I watched him during that rugby game and ... damn. He was something else.

He had this sweet cockiness about him that I thought of as "a swagger hiding an insecurity." To me, what little I knew of him, he struck me as a man who hides behind a boy. By that, I mean, I think he acts like a goofy, spirited boy but that he's really not wanting people to know he's really a soul-deep, strong, determined man.

He just hasn't had life kick the shit out of him yet, I think. He's gotten some bruises but he hasn't yet been crushed by malicious people messing up a life they have no right to even touch, much less destroy.

What's funny about that is that I think I'm a girl who hides behind the façade of being a woman. I know that when people meet me, they think I'm this mature, strong, confident woman. But I never really feel that way inside. In here, I am still a girl who's had to rebuild her life and who didn't do such a hot job of it, truthfully. I left a lot of me behind and I'm not ever sure it wasn't the best part of me that didn't get sacrificed in my wild, hell-bent drive to go on living. Truth is that I've always known from that moment on that any happiness I get my hands on is like water and even in the moment I've got my hands securely wrapped around it, it's already leaking through my fingers and disappearing.

Life lessons, eh? How they can change you if you're not careful.

Uma told me once that she thought of Lachlan as the kind of person Terry might have been once - way back when before Terry's spirit was thwarted by cynicism bred by what life had done to him.

That's probably true. But when I saw Lachlan in his movie, I felt this instant, huge, massive gush of a crush that's never left me. Lachlan is just the sort of man I lost my virginity to. He is the sort of man I could have believed in once. He's the sort of man I used to gaze at with stars in my eyes. He's the sort of man who could make my heart flutter when he'd pass me in the hall and give me a joking comment. He's the sort of man who made me want to lay with him. He's the sort of man who seemed to never notice I was a woman who had it bad for him but then one night at a party, he'd ask me to dance and I'd find myself in his arms and unable to speak from the weight of my crush on him.

So is it any surprise at all to learn that I had a mad crush on Lachlan Curry and that I was so nervous to spend one-on-one time with him that I thought I'd die?

And all it took him was one smile and he knew. I saw this light of humor in his eyes and felt my face blushing so hard that I blushed from blushing, if you catch my drift.

Picture it, if you will: At the Lakefront airport an hour before he'd said the plane would be in. Pacing. Twisting the hem of my dress. Biting off my lipstick. My skin getting beaded in moisture. Jumping every single time a plane came in to land and ventured anywhere near where I was parked. And then suddenly being shocked to all hell and back when the plane was just THERE, taxiing up smoothly to the terminal and how the hell had I missed it until it was right there? Shoving breath mints in my mouth just in case. Wondering if I stunk after standing out there all that time. Why was the bottom of my dress so wrinkled? God, I bet I look like a slob. Oh, good Lord. Is that him? Do I even remember what he looks like? What if I say hello to the co-pilot Phil thinking it's Lachlan? Fuckity fuck, why on earth did I invite him? I will never understand why I do things like this - voluntarily doing something that I know is going to scare me when I do it.

Carol the flight attendant of Thorne-O'Leary was actually the first one off the plane. Phil was second. And just when I wondered why they didn't come just tell me that Lachlan had decided he'd rather go home to Heather than come visit me ...

He sauntered down the steps, glanced my way and then started talking to Phil and Carol. They all came walking over to me finally. I would have walked to them but I figured with my luck and grace, I'd trip over a crack and fall on my knees.

I watched him walking toward me, that sweet cocky little stroll of his that seems so full of mischievous good humor and that look on his face that says he's fully aware of how fun life is. When he reached me, I stuck my hand out to shake his, but he just gave me this big grin, grabbed my shoulders and pulled himself to me to give me this gentle peck on the cheek. Soft hello just as he leaned back.

And ... he thanked me. I think his exact words were: "Thanks, love. Been wanting to spend some time with you."

I felt myself blushing and started giggling as I looked down at my toes and wished that Carol and Phil weren't witnessing what a total loser I am. And why were they there? I figured they were just dropping Lachlan off and then returning to be on hand in Dallas. They'd just flown Terry and Dino there for a weeklong business meeting. And when I'd heard about the trip, I'd realized how close that would put Lachlan to me. So I'd gulped hard and invited him to hop over to New Orleans for a visit. We're only about an hour away by air, I had said by way of inducement, so it would be convenient for you if you have nothing else planned. He'd responded back with a cute message to say he wasn't coming to see me just because it was convenient. I had blushed when I read it and I didn't stop giggling for days every time I thought of him sitting there at his computer and writing that to me.

Turned out that Carol and Phil were going to be staying in New Orleans during these days while Lachlan was here. Then they'd all fly back to Dallas and pick up their bosses and deliver them to wherever they were going next.

"Oh." I felt my face fall. They were staying? I sure hadn't planned on anyone but Lachlan staying with me. But I recovered quickly and I don't think anyone even noticed. I instantly went into hostess mode and made mental calculations on groceries I'd need to pick up in the morning. Started rambling in my best style and ushering them to put their bags in my car's back hatch. "Well, that's ... great. Let's see, I have only two guest rooms but I do have a hide-a-bed couch in the den, so maybe one of you men could take that because Carol should really have the privacy of one of the bedrooms ... and ... yeah, that'll work. It'll be great. We'll have such fun this week. I'll show you all over the city and we'll have a great time while you're here. And we can ... What? What'd I say that's so funny?"

"Ann, love, they're staying in a hotel. Not with us," Lachlan said with this chuckle. His eyes were crinkled in amusement. "We just thought you might not mind giving them a ride into town. Saves them having to get a taxi."

Oh. OH!! Okay! That was much more like it.

We had tickets the next night that granted us admission to his time period.

There was a big fundraiser being put on to support the National D-Day Museum, which is located in New Orleans near Lee Circle. It's a great place. An amazing place. Displays of artifacts, recorded reminisces by veterans and visual memories of the horrors of D-Days in both Europe and the Pacific. I actually have been to the museum a lot but I think that's in part because I was in the Air Force. Also, I had a particular interest in the Pacific arena of the war because I'd been stationed in Japan for a while. Besides, I think military people are some of the most ardent supporters of peace and it's because war is something we know is seldom romantic - not with its inherent brutalities. The best part about the museum is that it honors the people who fought in that war while it forces you to also see just how bad it was.

Once a year, they raise some money to help support the museum by holding this whiz-bang shindig in which they transform a nearby building into a USO cantina of the 1940s war years. I went to the first one two years ago and loved it. A jive band juking the joint, men decked out in period uniforms and acting like they were stocking up on sweet memories before heading off to war, women in dresses that moved so good out there on the dance floor, couples dancing who knew how to hop and swing ... just this general atmosphere that made you believe that once upon a time, the world was really able to pretend innocence even when they all knew evil was a potent threat to their future.

"Wow." It was all I could say. He walked into the living room as I was fluttering around trying to figure out how to tie the little straps at the back of my dress. And all I could do was breathe a word out and just look at him.

Dressed in his uniform, just like he'd promised me when I invited him to go to the dance with me. His hair was slicked into this perfect smoothness and I instantly wanted to ruffle it up.

"You approve then, gorgeous?" he asked me, his voice light with amusement.

"Yes, sir. I do approve. You look so perfect! I can't believe you did this for me. Lachlan, you are wonderful."

And then he did this thing ... this stance and move that seem purely him. He gave me a long, lazy look over. Toes to hair. Little shake to his head and then a crooked, sweet grin. "You look so pretty, Ann. I'll have to beat 'em off you tonight. Every bloke there will be trying to dance with you but I'll just tell 'em, 'sorry, mate, she's taken.'"

I bit my lip and smiled at him. And felt the blush again. Tried to cover it up by dragging on his arm and moving us out of the house and into the car. Drove us in over streets that were moving from sunlit to lamplit. By the time we got to the dance, it was full on night.

It should have been a great night. If it had just been up to me and Lachlan, it would have been. But, you know how fate is, eh? It does seem to rear its head at the most inopportune times.

We danced. Christ, but we danced. He is fantastic. Truly. He is smooth and generous and strong and he leads like a man should lead. He gets into the music like I do. But it's nothing really flashy. You just can feel it in the confident way he moves; you can see it in that jaunty way he gives those tiny bops with his chin. And he never forgets his partner. He's always careful to make sure it's about the two of you having fun together. Even when he looks like all he's doing is giving you a little twirl, he's watching everything at once -- you, the other dancers and the next place he wants to move with you.

We laughed. Oh, but he can make even a silly girl with a serious crush on him feel giddy with the good times he wants her to be having. He had me at ease for the first time in our visit. There's just something about being held by him as we danced all night and then having to sit close to him to talk when we'd take a break.

We talked. Mmm, but he does bring out the side of me that's willing to just ramble about stuff. And he made it easy for me to ask him questions so I could get to know him a bit better. We talked a lot about being in the military. About how it is a world unto itself but once you're in it, it becomes a real part of you and it does set you apart from people who've never been touched by that world. About how its structure and customs can make it a place where you take comfort from knowing that the rules largely have meaning above and beyond ceremony, unlike civilian life with its haphazard and hidden rules. About how good the military can be in instilling in a young person the value of order and personal responsibility. Every time we'd delve into the serious things, I felt like I was getting a present from him. It was like seeing the part of Lachlan I could fall in love with as an adult.

And before long, I might have still enjoyed that feeling of having a crush on him, but I was head over heals enthralled with the fact that I was being allowed to get to know him. Just him.

So when fate intervened and the night turned bad, it reminded me ... who am I kidding to not know that my moments of happiness are fleeing even while I'm in the midst of them?

Lachlan had left me for only a minute to go to the restroom. I went to the bar to get us something to drink. And I ran headlong into a part of my past that still had the ability to suck me back in. I hadn't seen him in years and I wouldn't have even recognized him but for the fact that he recognized me. I was just leaning into the bar to pay for the drinks, when another hand reached over mine and paid for me. And I turned thinking it was Lachlan but it wasn't.

It was Cal. I was washed over in conflicting tidal waves of emotions: anger and fear. Inside this crowded, noisy maelstrom of unspoken fights and unrealized confrontations, I was facing the one part of my old life that I knew instantly was going to contaminate the happiness I was having in my new life.

But I am a different person than he knew. I am no longer the timid woman who would take his shit without realizing I didn't have to just because of how I'd felt about him. I refused to let him see me afraid. I would have gone marching proudly into hell before I'd have given him the satisfaction. But inside? Diary, inside I was a palm tree caught in a hurricane's leading winds.

My inner little girl was screaming for Jack to come save her. My outer woman wasn't about to depend on any man to fight her battles for her.

"What are you doing here, Cal?" I asked him. "Doesn't seem at all like your scene. I mean, the women here have some class. Surely you didn't think you'd be getting lucky?"

He gave me this look. That look that used to intimidate me. Then he reached behind him and pulled a bonafide babe up. I mean a real piece of arm candy and I instantly felt like a frumpy matron. His arm around her, smarmy grin my way after he gave her a big kiss, leading with his tongue of course. Meet Angelique, he tells me. His babe. They were in town from Houston visiting his mom ... his mom who's, of course with my luck, on the museum's board. So naturally, they had to come to the fundraiser.

For some reason, it suddenly struck me as pathetic as I took a second look at Angelique while Cal was flapping his gums. I chuckled and said, "Now you're dating high schoolers, Cal? Are they the only ones left who are impressed by your schtick? Not to mention your dick."

That pissed him off and he got in my face. I was so proud of myself for standing my ground. I thought instantly of Bud and wondered what he'd do in this instance. I almost went for Cal's nuts but I was pretty sure I might not find them.

"She's 23, Ann. And just look at her. If you'd ever looked like her, you might have been able to keep a man. And when did you pick up a shrew's mouth? Child, no wonder you're still all alone."

"Oh, fuck off, Cal." I leaned over and talked loud enough for his companion to hear. "And does your bimbo Angelique know how many other women you're screwing while you're swearing to her that you love her? Does she wonder about all those mysterious phone calls late at night? Is she buying the bullshit poker games with the guys? Still pulling the same crap you used to, Caleb? Or have you come up with new ways of being unfaithful, you bastard?"

I saw her face fall and by the time I realized I'd probably just fucked her life up a bit, I was turning to see Cal's face get that familiar fury on it and I knew he'd want to hit me but he wouldn't have dared in a public place. Not that it stopped him from moving toward me and clenching his fists.

The rest happened in a blur. I felt a big hand on my forearm and found myself being pulled back. This solid body was smoothly inserting itself between me and Cal. I heard Lachlan's low voice asking me if I was all right. And then he was telling Cal that it was over, let's all just enjoy the dance, that he should leave "the lady" alone.

Oh. Lordie, lordie, lordie. 

I saw the grin on Cal's face and knew what was coming. "Lady?" he sneered out to Lachlan. "Ann? Since when? Or are you just trying that hard to get into her pants?"

No way am I going to ever tell you the rest of what the charming Caleb Pitre said to Lachlan about me. No way. Suffice it to say that Lachlan took exception to his language and once Cal really got enough sense back in his head to stop concentrating on me and to look at the man he was pissing off, he realized there was no way he was a match for Lachlan. Another hard stab at one of my soft spots and Cal was gone.

It might have taken me two seconds to grab my purse and be heading out of the joint. I was standing on the sidewalk shaking by the time Lachlan caught up with me. Get me out of here, I whispered to him and I was trying hard not to cry. But I was shaking bad. I put my hand in his and just let him walk me away from the building. We crossed the street, heading for the car. I made it most of the way there but somehow passing the front steps of the D-Day Museum is where I started losing it.

"Wait, wait. I can't breathe," I said suddenly and yanked my hand out of his.

"Here. Sit on the steps. Head between your knees, love. That's right. It's all right now." Saying it so young and earnest ... for a moment, I almost believed him that it was all right now.

Before I even knew it, I was hugging my knees and crying. God, I felt so humiliated to be seen this weak and defeated. His hand just rubbed in small circles on my lower back. He didn't say a word. He just let me crash.

And inside me, crazy stuff. Old stuff. Why now? Why when it seemed things were going good ... And in that one single instant, I had a moment of clarity. I knew why. I knew exactly why fate had stepped in and thrown that piece of human garbage back at me. It was to hit me hard with the reminder that every choice I made had a consequence. And that a choice I'd made back in my portal was going to haunt me forever because I'd done something bad to someone who loved me. I'd been unfaithful. I was doing it again, truth be told, although why I'd be truthful about something that I was covering up is beyond us both, eh, Diary?

When had I become this woman? Why had I done something so bad to someone else ... something that had once been done to me and how on God's green earth could I justify it when I had to have known how it could destroy you?

Crazy. Crazy. A madness. 

And I knew then. Don't ask me what happened in that moment of clarity, Diary, but there was a part of me that was surer about this than I'd been about just about anything else since coming to this world. This is what I knew with a certainty that fixed my path for me: I had to put it right. I had to correct a mistake. I had to fix what I'd done. Because if I didn't, it was going to destroy my life here. You just cannot seem to outrun your fate.

"Who was he?" Lachlan asked me softly. His voice came through the haze to me and I felt like I was awake again.

"My ex-husband." I turned and looked at his face. He didn't even know me and he was the one to find this out. "We've been divorced for years now. I haven't seen him since. He had already moved to Houston for his job and ... Not that I'd ever have wanted to see the bastard again, mind you. But still ..."

I got up and walked up the stairs. The museum's huge, two-story tall front windows glowed amber in their subdued nighttime lighting. Looked inside at the large landing craft and the small bi-plane that were the central parts of the ground floor's display.

Looking right smack dab into the past. Just not able to touch it that night because it was locked securely away behind heavy glass. You know what crazy thought was flitting through my mind as I looked at that past, Diary? It was about how people always say "it was a simpler time" when they talk about the past. But the past isn't simpler, I think; it just tends to make a bit of sense the further away from it you get.

When he touched my elbow, his warmth brought me back to today. "I'm sorry about that, Lachlan. Truly. I would give anything that that hadn't happened. But ... well, I appreciate what you did and what you said. He can just make me feel like a nobody and what you said, it made me feel like I mattered. You'll never know how much I appreciate it."

"Come here," he said, low voice and deep timbre. His arms hugged in around me and I felt the safety of acceptance. "You are a very special woman. You have a lot of people who love you. You can't let one nasty bastard get to you."

"It was a bitter divorce."

This little chuckle from him. "That was obvious."

"I was never good at marriage anyway." But that's not really the whole truth. Do I ever tell it all?

That night, I sneaked into his bedroom and watched him sleep. For the longest time, I just sat on the floor next to his bed and watched him. His face. So handsome. So at peace. So ready.

I never believed anymore. I know why. But I still just didn't ever believe anymore. I got the impression he still did believe. It wasn't that I wanted him to make me believe again. It wasn't. Because I will always think it's safer for me to not believe. I just wanted him to make it not matter so much to me anymore. Like it wouldn't be important to believe. Like you could suspend belief and nothing bad would happen to you because of it.

I never really belong. Not really. I'm always hearing a different tune from everyone else and even though I may try to sing whatever song other people are singing in any group with which I want to be in harmony, my song still plays all by its lonesome inside my brain. It can be lonely. But it can protect you, too.

I never thought I'd turn out to be this person. I never thought I'd live my life more concerned about staying safe and alone than taking risks. Maybe the truth is that I never belong because I never let myself really join with my whole heart anymore. I used to. Once upon a time, I used to do that.

It was only meant to be a touch. Just a touch. I reached out just to feel his warmth. He was shirtless and his skin looked so inviting. I put my hand on his chest. Right where his heart was. I just left it there a moment too long. Just enjoying the soft, steady thud of his heart in his chest. Enjoying not being totally alone that troubled night.

His hand covered mine and I opened my eyes to find him looking up at the ceiling.

"I'm here if you need me, love," he said. His strong voice carried so much knowledge of what this felt like. To be searching and think you've found it but to also be so sure you weren't going to ever be able to keep it because things like that weren't your fate.

"I can't do that to you, Lachlan. I may be many things but I can't be that callous. It'd be like what I did to East when I first met him only at least I didn't recognize it at the time. It's a mistake I don't want to make again."

He turned over on his side, taking his time, tumbling the sheets with him, never letting go of my hand. Propping his head up with his other hand and just looking down at me. "East liked you from the beginning. He told me. And he's a man. He knew what was happening and if he hadn't wanted to be there for you, he would have stopped it. It's never just about sex for him. Or for me. Or for you. It's just not that way for any of us. So if we help each other out along the way and one of us is needing something that the other can give, then how could that be wrong?"

And into the space he created for me, I took a risk and moved in with a truth. "Tonight shook me up real bad. I don't know if you can understand this, but I've done something wrong and I compounded it recently by doing something that's against the rules. But tonight ... seeing Cal and remembering what he'd done ... it made me realize that I'm no better than he was."

"I can't imagine you did whatever it was on purpose. I figure a bastard like him did."

"That's beside the point. Though, in a way, I did do it deliberately. I just didn't do it to be mean. So in that sense, yeah, then I'm not quite as bad. But it's only a hair's breadth between us, Lachlan."

He gave me this sigh and then closed his eyes. I tugged on my hand but he refused to let go. Instead, he opened his eyes to snare me. "I trust you. I trust in you."

It made me tremble. It made me cry. "I don't deserve that."

This light shushing noise from him and he was sliding out of bed and coming to sit by me. And then he was smoothly gathering me into his arms and whispering these words of comfort in my ears. Determined to do what he could to help heal the night's wounds.

Finally, he just leaned his forehead against mine. "Whatever happened, it's in the past. Leave it there. He can't hurt you anymore."

"Oh, yes, he can. All he ever has to do is exist and he hurts me, Lach." I held his face in my hands and looked hard in his eyes. "Do you want to know this? Because I'll tell you."

I don't know why I did it. But for some reason, it was like I just wanted him to know that I was the kind of a person who had a past that still intruded on my present because the choices I made to move beyond it changed me forever. I wanted him to understand that I don't regret the choices I made; I just wish it hadn't been necessary.

So I told him about Cal and me. About our marriage and what happened. About what he did to me. About how I just never understood why anyone would ever break the sanctity of marriage. About how I got the rudest lesson that it might have only ever been me who believed that when you married someone, you didn't cheat on them.

And I told him a bunch more, too. Yeah. About learning that there are few things worse than having someone you love convince you that you were never anything and that you never deserved better than what you had even if what you had was not what you wanted. About what it's like to believe it until you just get to the point where you somehow find the inner strength to make a new life for yourself. About how you learn your lessons from such brutality and you never again forget that people do change and that love can die. About why that's about the only thing that you do believe anymore. About how it's impossible to go on from there and ever be the same.

"Some loves leave a scar behind. Some loves can leave you with wounds that never heal. That's life. That's reality. That's the real reality." I said it to him firmly and watched him play with my fingers as he held my hands against his thighs.

"But other loves heal." He said it softly but there was a steel there in his voice that made me look into his eyes. "Those are the loves you have in your life now, Ann. I would wish that you could see that. Love's never a sure thing. But it's worth taking a chance on just to have some moments that come your way only because you're willing to believe in another person."

"I never believe anymore."

"But you want to believe again, don't you?"

His words. Delivered just flat and firm. Not like a question. More like a statement of fact. Like somehow he just knew this. Like he'd gone and reached right inside my damaged heart and pulled this out.

It made me suck in a hard breath and I shook my head. But he started nodding his head and his hand on my chin made me nod along with him.

I reached up to knock his hand away but instead it somehow got lost on its journey and it ended up on his cheek instead. "You're one of the good guys, Lach," I whispered to him. "There aren't enough of you in this world. I'm lucky to have met you."

His smile was suddenly a bit shy. And it was then I really realized where we were. Sitting there on the floor of the guest bedroom and him wearing nothing but boxers. At least I'd had the chance to put on a robe over my nightgown. But still ... we were sitting right up next to each other and this was the thing ... we hadn't ever even touched in a truly intimate way except ... except there we were ... touching like a prelude to intimacy.

And while it may seem I immediately fall into bed with every one of the men within hours or minutes of meeting them, I am not really quite that way. I just seem to be. I think that's one of the things about this world that's changed for me ever since I came back from the portal, Diary. Before I left, I was still under the illusion that the only reason I was here was to have sex with the men in this group and to maybe have some loving times along the way as I shared a bit of fun with them.

But I knew differently now. Maybe I always did. Maybe I just wanted it to be about sex to make it easier on myself when I'd find myself feeling these insatiable needs to be with them. But for sure, from the moment I chose to come back, I knew I was involved in this world because I cared about these men. And I knew I was making choices lately based on a new appreciation for the way my heart was getting involved.

Lachlan. The mad crush. Becoming a real person to me in this night. 

My fingers on his face trembled when I realized what I was doing and how he was looking at me all of a sudden. His face so serious. His eyes seeing things in me and I hadn't thought he'd ever look at me like this.

His hands slid up along my jaw and I swallowed hard. He made this feint, moving his face toward me and then stopping to see how I'd respond. When I met his eyes, I think he saw that I wanted to taste him. Because I did. He kissed me soft. I kissed back harder. It made him bold with me.

Could it have ended with just that one kiss? Maybe. Should it? No.

I'll never believe that what happened between us wasn't good and right. It meant too much to me.

Let me tell you something, Diary. There are reasons far beyond us for what we have in this world of ours. And there are reasons why inside this world, we form relationships with certain of the men that seem to come about at the perfect moment in time. I had wanted to meet Lachlan for so long. But I never took the chance before. There's a part of me that understands that this was the moment for us to meet. We were both of us a bit out of our element but beginning to trust that maybe inside this group we could find others who would stand with us against the world.

This first time between us. Two hesitant souls who wanted to connect. He kissed me for so long and then he was moving me with him into a new reality between us. And I don't think either of us gave it up easy for the other in that night. It was a real choice for us both.

He made love with a pure strength that I didn't expect. I expected him to be somewhat tentative but once he'd made up his mind and once he knew I wanted to be with him, he just moved with a strength that he used with absolute assuredness.

I felt confident in his arms. I felt no nerves. And it was because he made me feel special.

Oh, but the feel of his kiss. And the way he let his hand glide down along my throat as he whispered to me of wanting to touch me. Bending me a bit until it seemed so natural for his hand to caress my breasts. Making me want nothing more but to feel his most intimate touch upon my body. My hands opened my robe and he noticed the movement. His hands slipped up and he just watched himself slowly push it off my shoulders. I loved the smile he gave me and the way he dipped down to plant an affectionate, wet kiss on the rise of each breast.

When I pulled my nightgown over my head, he didn't touch my skin at first. Instead, he played with my hair, stroking one hand down my head and then twirling the ends of my hair a few times. His other hand strayed finally to touch my hand and twine his fingers in mine. We sat like that until we both seemed to know there was going to be no one else in bed with us that night, if you understand what I mean, Diary.

For a long time, we just nestled together on the bed and explored the other's skin. I found myself threading my fingers through his hair and just studying the way the strands felt, remembering how it had felt to me when he'd touched my hair ... how it had seemed an unexpected touch. And then I found myself looking in his eyes and told him how I'd wanted to mess his hair up from the moment I'd seen him that night wearing it all neat and prim.

It tickled him for some reason so I started rubbing hard all over his head to get his hair completely rucked up. He gave me this little yelp of surprise and fake indignation ... then grabbed my arms. In a second, we were wrestling with each other and I was shrieking with this joyful whoop at the way he would first manhandle me and then pretend I was overpowering him. A bit of playing. Adults playing at being kids. But really not covering up how we were really just trying to increase that delicious tension of giving in to the inevitable.

And before I knew it, there we were. With him laying almost full out on top of me and in control of my body. Our mouths right next to the other and just breathing each other in. His hardness pressing into me with a definite, if non-urgent, rhythm. I reached up and kissed him with a hunger born of all the reality of what he suddenly was to me.

He took charge. His hands kneading my breasts as his tongue played rough tag with mine. I could hear his breathing ramping up and felt the way his hips couldn't seem to stop that slow shove/release of his hardness pressing into my thigh. More urgent but still controlled. I whispered in his ear, encouraging him. Shifted when he touched between my thighs and moaned into his neck when he began touching my wetness. I reached to slide my hand under his boxers and felt him bite his own moan into my shoulder when I touched him.

God. The feel of him in my hands. Already weeping. The way he pumped into my hold and the words he gave me in that moment. He let me roll him to his back and I kissed his mouth for long minutes before I crawled down his body to remove his shorts. I can remember with precision the way it looked to see his hips rise up from the bed just enough to let me slip them down. And I can remember equally well the look on his face when I first tasted him. He must adore every aspect of the physical part of this, Diary. I love that about him.

I loved having this intimacy with him. Perhaps above all things with a man, I am quick to judge them by how they receive this part of making love. I can't put it into words because I know I won't do it justice, but I know it when I see it ... I know when it will be about both of us.

He wanted to be in me, though, truth be told. As much as he enjoyed every lick, kiss, suck and touch, he was like me in needing the connection that only comes in joining our bodies that way. So it was really like this mutual decision ... it took him one tiny touch on my head and one whispered entreaty and I was coming back up his body and into his arms. His kiss this time was wild and almost harsh. And then he was turning me onto my back and pressing my legs open and listening to me ...

"Come inside me, Lachlan. Give me this," I breathed out to him.

Grunting his response to me and it sent this huge thrill flashing through me. I watched his eyes. They were darting up to meet mine but they were lingering on where he was joining us.

Coming into me and it was almost too much. Ah, God, Diary, but he was good to me. Pausing to let me adjust and in that precise moment giving me a dirty compliment that made me gush around him and grind myself into him so hard I think it about did us both in.

And just like he danced, he was leading me into the rhythm and moving me in concert with each step his body took. Talking to me ... going hard at me because I panted it out to him that I wanted him to break me down in that night. And eventually not able to do more that just thrust and thrust and thrust and ...

Making me cry out my coming. Making me come back to where I wanted to be most in that moment. With him. In this world. Self awareness a gift in that night.

We ended up with me on top. I clung to him and stayed right where I was. I kept him inside me until I fell asleep. When I woke up, he was curled up around me, with his leg plopped over my thighs and my face almost buried in his shoulder. I stretched in his hold and luxuriated in that distinctive aching awareness of having been thoroughly taken to the edge and back.

I laid there in the darkness and listened to him breathing. I put my hand on his chest and felt his heart. This man. And me. In this one night, we'd both let our façade down just enough to see each other. How do you ever suppose I'll forget that, Diary?

I wondered again about that look he gave me. The one in that unspeaking moment after we'd made love and he was feeling like he knew something about me and that I deserved the tender look he was giving me. I don't know that I did. But I do know this -- he's not a boy. And anything he gave up to me in this night, he gave it freely and he gave it because he wanted me to have it.

And I also know this. In just this one night, he'd reminded me that I have worth and value. I wouldn't have thought it possible considering the reminder of how I hadn't always felt that way about myself. Somewhere between those past days of innocent belief and these current days of cynical non-belief, I had once gotten lost inside a maze that took me a long time to find my way out of. Sometimes, I even think I may still be inside that maze and still be searching for my real self.

Everything about me feels like an illusion most of the time. But people see what they want to see, don't they? Perception is reality -- one of my favorite sayings.

Since I seem to be in confessional mode, wanna know something else about me, Diary? I tell people I'm a cynic because of my old job. That's not the entire truth. For reporters, cynicism is a cloak you end up wearing just so you have some protection from the shitty stuff you see. It becomes a habit to turn a cynical eye on the world and if your personal life starts to get shitty, it's almost like a knee-jerk reaction to hide behind cynicism to handle what's happened to you. And the next time you turn around, you don't even quite care that you're a cynic and it's no longer just a disguise you put on when you go to work.

Lachlan reminded me that I used to not be cynical in my personal life. I used to believe in things like the promise of love lasting an eternity.

Probably the most important thing about Lachlan that will stay with me forever is that I think he is in this life more for others than for himself. Lachlan is a giver. He strikes me as never really caring if he receives in equal measure; he seems a natural nurturer. One of those people who makes you feel so special when you get to know him a bit.

And this is why I am so glad that I am seeing East again soon. When he is with me, I want to make East see what it's like to be made to feel special. Like Lachlan did for me in this visit.

But unlike Lachlan, I'll never be truly selfless. There were really two reasons I originally invited East when I did. One, the major one, was because what we shared during Temple Week made me realize that I wanted to spend time alone with this man who made a sacrifice for me once and never held it against me when I couldn't be much more than a shadow. But I also chose those particular dates I invited him to protect me from walking further down the path I've been walking. Because if I go much further, I don't know if there will be any turning back.

Will I figure out how to extricate myself from the path that I believe fate has in store for me?

Or am I really seeking absolution for having turned out, in the end, to be no better than the person who destroyed the part of me I wish I still had around to give to a man? Rules or no rules, Diary ... is there ever an excuse for having been unfaithful to someone who loves you?

I started this diary entry with quotes about the past. Diary, I will leave you with this quote from Oscar Wilde and it is yours to ponder until my next entry: "Experience is the name everyone gives to their mistakes."