CLARITY

"Have fun... and don't worry about me. I'll behave..."

In the taxi driving me back home from the Pub, alone, I fiddled nervously with my keys, trying hard not to get back to that nasty habit of biting my nails that I had given up since I'd met John, a few years ago. 

I looked out through the window at the lights of the city, without seeing them. 

How did he dare do this to me?  

Or rather the right question was: why did it annoy me so much? 

If I knew the answer to the first question very well, I didn't have any to the second. And that was bothering me even more. 

I angrily wiped whatever was wetting my cheek, oddly disturbed by the memory of the beam on John's face when we had arrived to the pub earlier this evening.

"Looks like we're back to old times" he had said. 

Back to old times.

I couldn't repress a bitter smile at that thought. 

Since the rescue a few weeks ago, life had been a succession of ups and down for us both. We'd been trying hard to get back to normal, which was what John wanted almost desperately. To be back to normal. It was our challenge for each day. Or at least, it was his. I wasn't so sure anymore what I wanted, or even if I wanted anything at all.

And that was probably part of the trouble. It was part of what was keeping us from going back to that 'normal' that was so important to John. 

Neither of us went back to work straight away. John had been weak, sore and tired; Stephen had ordered rest. I used the fact that I wanted to look after him as my pretext for not going back at once. I never admitted to anyone, though, that part of the reason was that I didn't feel ready to face the world outside, I was still very emotionally unstable. 

At first, it had been guilt for having involved Maximus in this in the first place, but John had made me see what Terry and Dino had explained to him: that Maximus and Ann, had already been involved, even before we were ourselves. It lessened part of the guilt. But not the pain.

Pain for Maximus who would never get the chance to see his own child. 

Pain for that child who would grow up without knowing the love and support of a father.

Pain for Ann, of course. I knew better than most how it felt to lose the man I loved even if I had had the luck to get him back twice. Ann hadn't had this chance. How would life be for Ann and her child in the years to come? In spite of the support she was getting from her close friends, no one would ever be able to replace the strong and loving presence of a man like Maximus by their side.

But there was also pain for them all. Our friends. For they all had been implicated in this strange and terrible adventure. Deeply or slightly, whether they wanted it or not, they had all been involved. And concerned. Nobody would ever get over Maximus' death. The loss of that strong and caring man, who inspired unanimous love in the women and respect in the men, had touched them all, some more personally than others. For there were those whose histories were more closely interlinked with the General than others - and they would bear the deepest hurt.

We were all feeling the weight of the injustice of all this. 

But we were also feeling the weight of fear, the fear that any of us could have lost the ones we loved. Anytime.

JOHN

I felt angry, a cold, bitter anger that I've tried to control, tried to lock deep inside me. Everything had been great for us before... as happy as it was possible to be... before. Was this now the price we had to pay for those snatched moments of happiness? The final irony that just when we found our way back, there was nothing left of what we had back then?

At first, when Stephen first revived me, what nagged me the most was the helplessness I felt. I had been unable to protect my family, my friends - but most of all my wife. I had put them all in danger however unwittingly. Terrible risks had been taken to rescue us... and there had been nothing I could do to help.

How could I have dragged her, Clarity, into all this when my purpose, my reason for living, had been to protect her and make her happy? How could the simple purchase of a house, a proof of my deep love for her, have turned so wrong?  Our friend - my 'brother'- was dead, my family was in fear for the future. Everyone was struck down by grief. And my marriage was falling apart.

I wanted things to be normal- was that so goddamned much to ask? I had to do something to get back to where we were. Clarity obviously had her own demons to fight. I was not sure I could help her either. Or was I the cause of her pain? This was my demon to fight, and fight it I would.

Last year, we were separated and lived through a different kind of ordeal. But when it had been over we faced the aftermath together, and it made us even closer. This time, we just couldn't seem to get the harmony back. Clarity was struggling most of all. I could see it in her face. Both of us needed time to recover. I was trying to be patient. I was full of hope but yet....

One thing we agreed on, though, was the debt of gratitude we owed to our friends for what they had done for us. 

As soon as I could, I spoke to each of them to thank them, one after the other. The bonds were even tighter now. We used to loosely call each other family, brothers, even, but now we really were. This had made us see that we were only safe if we recognised our kinship and worked together to protect it. I called Uma a lot these days. I wanted news about Ann and the others over there. I felt a sense of responsibility for them.

Clarity oddly didn't get in touch with anyone those early days, even her closest friends. She used to enjoy their company so much but she just didn't seem able to anymore. Not that she didn't want to see them. She was deeply grateful to them and loved them even more than ever. But somehow she just couldn't reach out. And I couldn't understand why. She had no real place of comfort left anymore.

Well, except with me, of course. At first she was very clingy, needing constant touch as if I was going to disappear again suddenly. We spent long times in each others' arms, reading, watching TV without really watching, or just dozing. I guessed we were both exhausted anyway after what we had been through, physically and emotionally, and we needed each other's presence more than ever.

The Mystery DVD was still on top of the player but it seemed to provoke mixed and disturbing feelings in Clarity. One day, I pulled away from her, took it and put it in a closet, closing the door and turning the key. I didn't say anything or look at her, just returning to sit down by her side, sliding in around her waist holding her even tighter than before. It was a symbol of something to her. I thought I was beginning to get an idea of what her problem just might be. Clarity was guilty. Not about the others this time. There was another type of guilt gnawing at her. If we were ever going to get past this, then I might have to face up to the source of it before we had any chance to move on.

She never talked about Mystery. She never shared any news about the town, my friends, my children... Donna. Yet, she must have met them. I haven't asked her outright though. Maybe I was not quite ready yet myself to hear it. Had it been anything like my own experiences there last year? Or had this been a different reality? Had John Biebe still been sheriff in the place she had found herself? Had they met? What effect on him- me - had this beautiful French woman made? It was too much for me to handle at this point. But I knew in my heart that until we faced up to the reality of what she had gone through over there, we were never going to heal this open wound that was still bleeding.  But what was reality? Hers, or mine, or SID's? He'd messed with our minds just one time to many. One day, he'll get his. And I'll be the first in the queue when they hand it out.

CLARITY

SID.

Sometimes, my mind wandered, and I thought about the part he had played in our misfortune. 

I couldn't forgive him for letting those crazy so-called scientists hurt my John.  But should I thank him for saving my life, or be mad at him for having experimented on me? I still couldn't work that one out. But I would be lying to myself if I tried to make SID the scapegoat in all this. He was not the cause of my guilt. That lied in my own failure. That lied in my feelings about ... the other John.

My life was here, with my friends and my husband. I loved him deeply, truly I did but I felt as though I had left a little part of my heart forever in Mystery... with those warm and welcoming people I came to love... but mostly with their sheriff.

I missed Sheriff John Biebe. 

How could I explain that to my John? I couldn't explain it to myself. I couldn't even mention Mystery to him anymore. Even that stupid DVD of his film had seemed to loom across at me from the top of the TV, mocking me and reminding me every moment of my disloyalty. How could I go on lying to him?

But if I told him the truth...would I lose him?

Had I the right to lie in John's arms after knowing other strong arms? 

It had been cold. We had had to hold each other close, out of necessity to fight the cold... to survive. To survive, indeed, for it had not only been the cold outside,  that had driven me into his arms that night - but also  the terrible chill losing my husband had brought to my heart.

What a terrible irony? To fill the empty space in my soul I took another woman's man, the John who belonged to other people, to another world. And now fate had brought me back to the man I loved, the memory of that one night of weakness was destroying everything we once had. I had tried to resist. I told myself that you can't be unfaithful to the same man. But it wasn't working. Guilt was eating me up. I had betrayed them both. And that was the truth of it.

During that initial time after our return, John had needed care and I had poured all my energies into that to prevent him from over-taxing himself and to fill my time with activity. I needed to constantly remind myself that he was really back with me, and fine. I probably drove him crazy but all the same I think he needed it too. One look in his expressive eyes told me that.

There were tender moments tending his wounds. Not much could be done for the bruises and cuts, the muscle damage done by the manhandling, the restraints, injections, blood tests and other IV lines. Time alone would heal them. But Stephen showed me how to clean the chest wound. It wasn't large, certainly not life-threatening, but it was rather deep and would need time to recover because it affected even his smallest movements. John never complained but I could often notice that he was in pain. He needed to stay still and rest.

It hadn't been difficult to keep him quiet at first because he had been so tired. We had spent long moments, stretched on the sofa together, watching some stupidity on TV, or just doing nothing.

In the evening I would fetch what John playfully called 'the torture tools', a tray covered with cotton, antiseptics and bandages. He would roll his eyes and tease, accusing me of enjoying tormenting him. I would baby him and tell him that if he was a good boy, he would get his reward. I helped him to take off his shirt while he laid on the couch with his eyes closed, looking almost relaxed, an odd little smile often playing on his lips. He was always very still and let me do my work without any fuss, just taking a deep intake of breath when it hurt too much.

I tried to be as gentle as I could but from time to time, he would wince. I would tease at how brave men could be real babies over tiny cuts, and yet stand really serious injuries without making a sound. I was joking to hide my own distress. I didn't want to make him suffer. I found it so poignant how he turned over his damaged body to my hands and how unconditionally he trusted me. He wasn't afraid anymore to show me his vulnerable side, both physically and mentally. It made my heart ache to see what he had been through while I had been lusting after another woman's man, envying her her family, her friends, her life.

When I was finished, I would shower his body with soft kisses, circling sensitive skin around his wound, soothing the smooth skin of his chest that had been shaved before the surgery planned for him by the crazy doctor.

But John soon needed less and less medical attention. Those intimate moments were lost, and soon gave more room to less pleasant ones. While time was healing John's physical wounds, my mixed feelings toward what had happened in Mystery worsened.  And with it, my feelings toward John began to change... well, not really my feelings but...  I couldn't bear for him to touch me.

But I could also see that he was worried. I was shutting him out and guessed that this was hurting him more than his physical injuries. Those wounds were close to healing now. But the ones inside were as raw as ever. Yet when he reached for me, all I did was drive him away.

We made love once after returning from France.  As soon as John was in less pain, he had started to show his needs again. I suppose he hoped that this very expression of love would bind us again. He was a man. This was how he showed his love, his desire, his need - and his possession of the woman he loves. But as much as I wanted to give that to him, my body let me down.

He hadn't completely recovered yet, so when I saw his handsome face wince in pain that alone didn't help me reach my own seventh heaven. But I can't blame it on that alone. As our lovemaking deepened, it brought back flashes of memories I was trying to forget. It made me recall that night back there in the big cold, snuggled against another strong body so similar to this one. It had been a matter of life or death then.

Yeah, sure. 

Guilt returned, deeper than ever. My body might have responded instinctively to his, but wasn't that exactly what had made me betray him in that cabin during the storm? That sobering thought soon brought an abrupt end to my impending pleasure.

As for John, it hadn't been much better for him either. He wanted to take it slow but he was in such a need that he didn't last long. His release was violent and painful, far from what he had been dreaming of.  I know he noticed my failure to come and he blamed himself for being selfish, for not being man enough even to give me pleasure anymore. So, instead of making it better, our lovemaking ended in guilt again for both of us.

It was a total disaster. We didn't talk about it. Nor did we try it again for quite a while.

But without that essential part of our relationship, the distance between us was growing wider each day. We didn't make love. We didn't really talk.

But we found another way to release the tension- or did we merely build it up? 

We argued. More and more. Over little things. Preferably silly ones. Although, 'argue' might not be the right word for it. It was always me who bit first. John didn't seem to know how to respond to this new Clarity. I am not sure I recognised anything of the old one in her myself.

JOHN

I've never been great at reading women. I'm just a basic guy, you know? At the beginning when we first met, it had taken me time to understand her. Clarity could be a fiery little spitfire when she wanted to be. In the end I realised that maybe I was trying too hard. I would probably never understand her. So why even try? Men bumble along trying to please their women and somehow make things worse than they were when they started. So I just learned to love her and let her go on when she had a bee in her bonnet about something. She felt better when she got it out and I just rode out the storm. Once we got that out of the way, she was an easy woman to live with.

But now, she was just looking for an argument. She was trying to push me. She wanted me to react. So I just stayed quiet and pretended not to notice. Clarity was a bunch of mood swings waiting for a fight. I knew what was driving it and figured that sooner or later she would get over it and the nitpicking would stop.  She would get all uptight about something and then later, I guess she would feel sorry. Then, she would become all mellow in my arms and snuggle down, suddenly clingy again. That was enough for me. All I wanted to do was take care of her. I could make it better. It was just a matter of time.

 But, no matter how many times I told myself that, deep inside me, I was full of doubts. It felt like I was losing her, losing it all.  The good life we'd been sharing together was running away, like sand dripping through my fingers, even if I was trying to squeeze them tight together to catch the last grains... to no avail.

I refused to give up. Life has taught me to enjoy the good times when they were there, and I sure had. But you also have to learn to fight for what you really care for. I'd done that all my life, in my first marriage, my job, the Saturday game. I was not going to let anything take from me what I had found. Not this time.

CLARITY

What was wrong with me? I had no grip anymore on my moods.  How could John be so patient with me? What if I never got back to how I was? How could we stay together? What chance did we have of growing old together when we couldn't even live together as newly-weds? 

I still loved John, now more than ever maybe.  But I felt like I was slowly drowning slowly in... in what? Was I depressed? Was it what happened? Or was there some other deeper problem that the events in Mystery just threw up?

Maybe we shouldn't have married at all? You hear about couples living happily together for years - and then divorcing after only a few months of marriage. Was it simply what was happening to us? Had the ordeal hastened the process for us?

Three years? Had we just reached the end of our run?

God no! I would not survive that. I couldn't live without him. But something in me kept picking another argument and watching him draw further and further into himself to keep from hitting back at me.

Here's an example. One evening, a few weeks after our return from France, I was trying to keep myself occupied by sorting our clothes in a dilatory fashion, making three piles: one 'to-keep', one 'maybe' and one 'to-get-rid-of'. I've always done that, and he never minded before, just grumbling about the sudden disappearance of his favourite T-shirt, or pants, or socks, but it generally didn't last very long. Favourite socks! How can men have favourite socks? Who can figure male logic?

So there I was, wasting time on a comfortably familiar activity, spending hours passing clothes from pile to pile. As usual my pile of 'to-keep' was huge, while the 'maybe' one was a little smaller, and the 'to-get-rid-of' was ridiculously small. Oddly, it was the opposite for John's clothes. I didn't know why I let him keep all his old things at all.

In the meantime, John was fighting a leak under the kitchen sink, swearing and praying to the Plumbers' God to send them back his gift: Jeff. After a while, having earned a hard but definitive victory over the monster of sink leaks, he wandered into the bedroom to see what I was up to.

I was in the bathroom, trying on an old dress that John had always liked, no matter how worn out it was. There was music playing in the bedroom, as these days I seemed to hate silence even more now than before, so I didn't hear him come in.

I don't know if he just thought I was neatening up the drawers or something.  He must have decided to give me a helping hand. Maybe he thought we might then try and have a nice time together again if he'd done something to please me? Whatever his reasons, John returned all his clothes back into his closet.  I found him putting the last pair of socks back into its drawer with its mates, a satisfied smile on his lips. I was still wearing the dress, a slight smile lingering on my lips too at the memories this dress brought to me. But the smile froze on my face when I saw what he'd done. I have no idea why it maddened me so much. It was obvious he had just been trying to help. But he had given me the excuse that my perverse mood seemed to need to start another quarrel.

"Mais... MAIS! Bon sang, John Michael Biebe! What have you done?"

"I think it's pretty obvious, Mrs Claire Biebe," he replied with a smug grin, completely misreading my mood. "I'm helping you. I've obviously been faster with my chores than you, honey. So I helped you, and now we can have some quiet time... or maybe not so quiet, huh?" he stepped over and nuzzled up to me, lowering his voice as his hands skimmed my frame. "Hmm, have I ever told you how much I like you in this dress...?"

I pushed his hands away roughly. It was not the first time but I'd never done it so openly before. I could see the hurt and rejection immediately on his face. So I made it even worse, turning the knife in the wound.

"Helping me? You must be kidding! You are ruining hours of work! And don't ever dare call me Claire again!"

"But, it's your name, isn't it? And I thought..."

"Et bien, you thought wrong!"

"But I wanted to help and..."

"Can't you ask before doing something that stupid?"

"Stupid? Putting my own clothes back where they belong? Since when do I have to ask your permission to do that?" he answered softly, too softly, obviously trying to stay calm.

"Since it's always me who has to do the unpleasant jobs and go through these ugly old clothes you insist on wearing!"

John looked at me, an eyebrow raised in surprise, but chose not to answer. 

I went on: "...besides you put back the wrong pile. These were the ones to keep..." He looked at the few things I showed him.

"Only these?"

"What? If you don't like my way of doing things, then why don't you do them yourself!"

"Okay, okay, it's not important, these are just clothes, let me help you..." he reasoned but you could see he was lost, totally unable to guess what he ought to say for the best. "What's with the face? What the hell's wrong now?" He blurted out as he saw my reaction.

"Nothing."

John still decided not to argue that with me. I pushed a little harder. "You mean you won't even try to defend your opinion? Are you going to just let me do and say what I like? Don't you dare humour me..."

He rolled his eyes in frustration. "Clarrie, these are only clothes. I don't want to argue with you about unimportant things. I don't want to argue with you about anything. Why don't we just relax together for now, forget about this and we'll see later what we do about these clothes? They are only things, right? Only things, Clarity. There's nothing here worth arguing about..."

"....I have no time for relaxing, not with all I have to do."

"Come on, there's nothing urgent. Just let's go and watch something on TV together..." He held out his hand, invitingly me to join him.

"Not another damned sport programme, I hope!"

He couldn't help throwing up his arms and sighing at my answer. I felt terrible and in an instant my anger disappeared. I threw myself into his embrace. "I'm sorry, John, I'm so sorry! I don't know why I'm acting this way. I just can't help it these days..."

"Shhh...." he soothed, stroking my hair back softly. "You're still emotionally raw, it will come back. Everything will be normal soon...we just have to give it time, babes..." But I could hear the unsaid words that lingered between us. He was beginning to doubt that things would ever be the same again.

And so was I. 

JOHN

Things just seemed to be going from bad to worse.  I walked in one day after work; Clarity was daydreaming in the bathroom, her hands in the sink, washing one of her favourite woollen pullovers. She looked a little pale and drawn. I wondered if she could do with getting out of the house. "Hey, what you say we go see in the New Year with the others at the pub?"

"What do you want to do?" she answered dryly. It was like she was going on the attack whatever I said.

"I'll do what you prefer to do, honey, that's why I'm asking you..."

"Here we go again! Must I always be the one who makes the final decision? Don't you ever have any opinion of your own about anything?" 

I could see the fight coming. Time to keep my mouth shut. "Yes, as a matter of fact, yes, I do have opinions. About a lot of things.  I think it would do us good to go and see our friends. But if you don't want to, we'll stay home. You seem to be tired anyway. I think I am, too. Of a lot of things....!" As much as I wanted to stay calm, it was getting more and more difficult.

I heard her grunt in frustration as I walked out, just before I slammed the door behind me. She probably took it all out on that poor pullover. When she finally joined me in the living room, I had calmed down and was waiting for her, with a big smile, a cool glass of her favourite Muscat from France and a beer for me. She looked embarrassed, slipped onto my lap, played with my hair fondly, looking in my eyes. "I do not deserve you."

I kissed her softly. She answered my kiss, reaching for my lips as eagerly as I had touched hers. It became more passionate. I slipped my hands under her sweater... but in an instant I felt her body stiffen lightly. She pulled away, blushing slightly and stood up, changing the conversation.  "You're right, let's go to the pub. We haven't seen our friends for a while..."

So, that's the way it was now, huh? As much as she wanted to isolate herself from the others, even they were preferable to a night alone with me. We never made it to the pub. I called for a take out and we went to bed early - to sleep.

CLARITY 

This was our new weird way of living. At one moment I felt irresistibly attracted to John, just like before, and at others I was oddly uncomfortable with him.  John continued to do his best to keep his temper with me, and hold together the shattered remains of our once idyllic life.

I found myself comparing him to Mystery John, as I called his alter-ego, and that made me even more ashamed of myself. The moment he walked in then I turned on him, baiting him for a fight as if I was 'punishing' him for not being the other John, or  maybe I was punishing myself by making my John hate me even if he didn't know what I'd done. But I seldom managed to make him angry. He was calm, kind and patient, which just made me feel more guilty than ever for what I was doing to this wonderful man.

John stayed John, always faithful to his own personality... or trying to be. Although I deserved a spanking on his knee like the wilful child I was becoming - and I could almost swear I'd seen him struggle a few times to resist the urge not to give it to me - John always managed to keep his calm with me. And if things got too bad, he just silently left the room, or even the house when it was too much for him. One day though, I heard something bang violently against the door of the garage, and saw John walk angrily out just after, rubbing his hand. Of course, I didn't dare to ask anything or check on him.

This could not last forever. No matter how patient John was, no man was going to accept living like that forever. He had had to face an ordeal of his own, and I was doing nothing to support him through that. It must have changed him too. Perhaps one day he would wake up and say enough was enough. That was my greatest fear - but still I couldn't seem to do anything positive to put things right.

A few weeks later, at the beginning of January, however, it became impossible not to go visit the pub. Since we had last gathered together at the bar as a group, there had been some significant events - and this time they were all good!

Two little men had made their appearance into the world: Paul's sister's baby Joey, then Ann and Maximus' little Bennett. Bud and Bridgid had got married. All this added to Maximus' incredible return... it felt almost too great to be true.

"Looks like someone up there still likes us, honey," had been John's comment when he told me the good news.

Celebrations were planned. John insisted that we needed to be there. We'd spent too much time alone together, and things had gotten a bit tense.

He was right. Love was still there, lying between us but it seemed like it was trapped under a thick layer of glass...we could see it but it was just beyond hands' reach.

"I think we ought to go and join the others tonight. Say hi to Paul's little fella and have a drink with the others...Ann's going to be there with little Bennet as well..."

"Going to the pub? Yes... maybe you're right... maybe we should go..." I answered without much enthusiasm. "Some fresh air and good company will do us good..."

"Hey, it's not just for me, you know? I think you should start mixing with the other girls again. Get things back to normal. Go and see the babies... you sure you're feeling okay? You look a bit pale to me. Maybe some other night? We can leave it if you'd rather..."

There he was again, willing to give up a pleasant evening for my sake. This time I held my tongue and told him he was right about going. "No, no, if you want to go, let's go and celebrate those babies... and their happy parents. It will be good to see our friends again. Don't worry about me. I do feel a little tired but... well, you know how it is... it's probably that time of the month coming soon..."

Yes, that evening could have done us much good. But things did not quite turn out as we had planned

Later in the taxi home, I contemplated the events of the evening.  

At the beginning, I'd been full of hope. That evening had almost felt normal for a while. Almost like old times, just as John had said. Almost, anyway.

Meeting old friends again, joking with the others, we had both realised how much we had missed them all, missed having fun together. John had looked happy - and I had not been very far from feeling the same myself, for the first time in a long time. Truly, it had been a happy evening, a celebration of joyful events after all the sorrow of the past months,  a way to get back together again, to reaffirm those bonds that were binding us, now even more than ever.

Except we weren't together.

The other guys had decided to go celebrate Maximus' return - and new fatherhood with a night on the town. We girls were expected to stay behind with the new babies.

Men getting pissed and women cooing around the babies... precisely the kind of clichés I've been running away from all my life!

That is, before I met John. John Biebe was a typical man, like most of the other men of the pub, who expected that men do 'men things' and women do 'women things'. I had gotten used to that rather well. From the moment I'd had become a regular in the Come On Inn... and in Sheriff Biebe's arms... I began to understanding about that male-only bonding. I had found it just as pleasant to spend time with a bunch of good girlfriends, too, enjoying what only women can enjoy together without a man around. Suddenly it didn't seem such an annoying sexist convention as I had hitherto believed.

But that was before. Now, it didn't seem to work anymore and I was feeling like I had done long before I met John.  His macho attitude just annoyed me. What was wrong with me?  John deserved a break. Why was I so hard on him all the time? If I was John, I'd have left me a long time ago. If I could, the way I was feeling at the moment, I would even have left my selfish and unbearable self.

So, when I asked about the babies, and John suggested I go upstairs with my drink, it bothered me. And it got even worse when I understood that the men were going to have a 'male-only' party - off the premises.

"Have fun...and don't worry about me. I'll behave..." he said as he sent me upstairs with a kiss and a patronising pat on my backside before going to join the others. I'd expected him to come with me but he was obviously not going to do that. He rather seemed in a great hurry to go and leave me.

Things like that used to amuse me, and I usually wouldn't have minded going alone to join my girlfriends and share their happiness while john was having some male fun of his own. But this time, it bothered me a lot. I needed him by my side. I knew that was selfish, but it was the way I was feeling. It made me irrationally angry, as if I was being abandoned, rejected in some way. Angry and sad.

Still I didn't make a nasty retort or burst into tears. I hid my disappointment, just turned on my heel and ran on up those stairs like the good girl John wished me to be... even if that little pat on my bottom that would have make me laugh before, now felt humiliating to me.

John was having a night drinking with the other men? So what? He'd done that many times before, and it had never been that much of a big deal to me! I was usually happy to see him having fun with his buddies, and enjoy doing what only men could do when there were no women around..

Like other women, I wasn't always happy with the aftermaths of these nights out, because these men could really drink and misbehave when they had a mind to, but I usually could handle them without too much problems. Besides, we girls were generally having fun of our own in the meantime. So, everything was best in the best of all possible worlds.

Usually. But not this time. 

Maximus, John, and all the men needed, now more than ever, some time together, if only to remember they were still alive, and that things were indeed back to normal, as John repeated it endlessly, as if to reassure himself.

Back to normal.

But yet...

I didn't think John had even seen the babies. John who liked children so much... what was wrong with him? He couldn't even take a few minutes to see them with me? Was it because he wanted children of his own and didn't want the reminder that other men had succeeded where he hadn't? If life hadn't played us such tricks, maybe I would have been pregnant by now? We had decided to stop the pills before leaving for Luberon, and, if fate had let our life go on its 'normal' way, we sure would have put all chances on our side by trying again and again.

But now... things were different.

The babies were adorable. Both of them. Little Joey was fast asleep, unconcerned about all the noise around him. We joked about him keeping his poor uncle awake most of the nights, while he seemed to rest peacefully when surrounded by a bunch of noisy women. In the meantime, little Bennett was doing his best to charm us all... and succeeding.  Ann was beaming, obviously in love, with her two men now in her life. The girls, all excited to be together again for the first time since such a long time, had asked each other thousands of questions. I had a hard time escaping some of them. Mostly because I didn't even have the answers for myself yet. Fortunately, we were a big crowd, full of excited women, some with very happy news we had only just heard, like Gaia with her brand new ring. The attention soon passed from me. I just kept in the background saying less and less as the evening wore on.

As soon as I decently could, I said my discreet farewells, pleading tiredness and not being used to late nights recently. I didn't want to be the spectre at the feast amongst so many happy people, so I slipped downstairs to see if John was ready to go with me. But that was when I found out that they had all left.  The bar was almost empty. Only Paul and a few anonymous customers were still there. The others were gone. All of them.

Of course, they had said that they were going to have a night out, between men. But I'd presumed that it would be downstairs, at the pub, in their own place. Now, they were probably gone to paint the town red. And, although I knew I could trust John, it annoyed me even more. Deeply.

Paul kindly proposed to ask someone to drive me back home, but I refused as politely as I could, and he had called me a taxi. I needed to be alone to try and calm those stupid, unreasonable and unwelcome feelings that were invading me.

That's why, in that anonymous taxi, whose driver was fortunately the silent kind, I let my mind wander freely about what had happened that evening and those past weeks, all those little nothings I had built up in my head until I was caught in this web of unhappiness. I decided there and then to make my belated New Year resolutions.

We couldn't go on this way. Tomorrow, I will stop making John's life hell.  I will mentally kick my own butt each time I start letting anything negative get in the way of our happiness. All was well that ended well after all, so we should consider ourselves as lucky!  Mystery was long behind me and what had happened was irrelevant. I had a future to build with the man I loved, the man who was here, by my side, always present - except tonight, of course - always understanding, always patient, always loving... Or had been. Please don't let it be too late to start again!

Well, even if it was, I would do anything - and even more - to save what could still be saved and gain back his love. 

I felt better already and asked the taxi driver to stop so I could walk the rest of the way home. On the way I looked up into the dark sky and said aloud how lucky I was. It could be raining. I had no umbrella. My coat was not waterproof. Thank heaven for small things!

But no sooner had I finished speaking than a huge cold drop fell right into my left eye. 

So much for good resolutions! The rain soon poured down in a deluge soaking me through to the bone. It was a very unhappy and cold Clarity who reached the house some time later.

The emptiness of our home didn't improve my mood. The keys on the table of the living-room didn't either. John's keys. He usually never did that. He always thought about everything! He must have been very excited to go back to the pub to forget his keys! I remembered now that I'd closed the door while he'd be starting the engine to warm the car.

For all my promises to myself, I felt anger building up in again. Not only he was out without me, but he was going to wake me up in the middle of the night now!

"Calm down, girl, calm down," I muttered. "He's only human, and can forget his keys without you throwing a tantrum." 

No problem, I thought, I will call him calmly, or send him a message, to let him know that the keys would be under one of the flower-pots on the porch... not very original, but it was pouring rain outside, I was tired, cold, and had no intention of going out again to find a better hiding place for THOSE DAMN KEYS...

I made the call but jumped when I heard a familiar ring tone at the other side of the living room. I couldn't believe it! John's cell phone was ringing and vibrating energetically on the coffee table. He had forgotten that too!

This time, too much was too much! I threw down my own cell phone to join its lonely companion on the coffee table. It missed but I didn't stop to check the damage, just climbing up the stairs to bed.

Of course, I couldn't sleep. 

After tossing and turning in our big bed during for what seemed like hours, I finally gave up and went back to the living room. On a whim I turned the key of the closet, opened the door, and took out the DVD John had put in. That might help. Or would it make it worse? I didn't care. I wanted to watch it. It was as if I didn't have the choice. Everything in me was calling for it.

Back to the bedroom, the DVD in the player, I pushed 'play' and started to watch, still standing in front of the TV screen, as if hypnotized. I saw the majestic iced landscapes, the boy skating the river, the snowy streets of the little town, the cabin in the woods with the smoking chimney, the gloved hand on the car key. When his face appeared on the screen, I smiled, a sad smile, and couldn't stop my fingers from tenderly brushing the screen.

JOHN

It felt good. Really good. The first evening in a hell of a long time when I had felt this good. How long was it since the last time we just cut loose and went a little crazy? None of us wanted to think about the bad times. Not tonight. This night was for us. It was exactly what we all needed to relieve the pressure - and get back to... normal.

I did feel a bit bad about leaving Clarity alone. She'd looked pale and unhappy when I'd left her. But she wasn't alone. The girls would soon cheer her up.  Those girls together were probably even worse than we were. They would be talking dirty, bragging about their respective men. Or maybe not tonight, not around the babies anyway! She would be alright.

A few hours later though, after a lot of laughs and almost as many drinks, I found myself back thinking about Clarity again. What if she was sick? I'd not had drunk more than a few beers; my head was still clear. So, after a while, I threw cold water on my face, and left them to it.

In the taxi back, my thoughts went back to our relationship. We couldn't go on that way. I'd wanted this evening out for the two of us, but the closer to home I got the more I doubted it had done anything more than set us back even further

It was cold out and I had a sudden irrepressible desire to be close to her, to feel her silken naked skin against mine. But, since that last non-so-glorious time, when she had pulled away from me if I tried to touch her, I hadn't dared to approach her again sexually. Even when she let me hold her, it was like she was somewhere else. I was scared that if I really pursued it - and she rejected me - it would be too much for me to bear. A man has his limits no matter how tough he tries to be.

But I had to try. I had to win her back. There had to be a way to pierce this armour of hers. I couldn't give up. It was still worth trying again and again. I wanted to hold and make love to her. For God sakes I needed it more than I ever had at that very moment. I missed it, I missed her, I missed the person she was before. She had to still be there somewhere, under that carapace she had built around her. I was going to find a way into that carapace.

At the front door, I realised I'd lost my keys or maybe never even taken them out. I tried the door and found it open. It wasn't like Clarrie to take such a chance late at night. Inside, I threw down my coat carelessly, didn't even switch on a light and made my way to the stairs to check she was okay, standing on something on the way. It was Clarrie's cell phone, broken by the look of it. That made me even more concerned.

The bedroom was dark and silent. Clarity was there sleeping. I watched her for a while until my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness. She was lying far on her side of the bed, as if clinging to it for safety. She did that a lot these days, except after an argument when she would creep back into my arms later by way of an apology. But mostly that didn't last long. No sooner did I respond than she would ease herself away again as if she could not stand contact with me anymore. What had happened to the passion we used to share?

I'd talked about that with Stephen. It wasn't easy to discuss it with another man - even if he was a doctor but I was so desperate that I'd try anything. He told me to give her time. I'd given her time. But I was beginning to think that it was time to face the facts. Clarrie had had enough time. Maybe direct action was what was needed now.

CLARITY 

I heard John come in.  The sleep I had finally fallen into had been a restless, fitful one. I had no desire to face him that night or to hear what a wonderful time he'd had. Without me. But my body was crying out for his touch.  I heard him undress quietly and felt him slip in our bed besides me. I turned my head to find him watching me silently. He smiled shyly and whispered, "You awake? I just got up for a glass of water..." Then he added, holding out his hand to touch my face, "You okay, honey?"

But I rolled my eyes and turned my back before he reached me, my mind forcing my body from what it needed. 

"How old are you, John Biebe? I hope you've had fun with your buddies," emphasising the word 'buddies.'  "Now go to sleep. You need it... and so do I."

What had he done so wrong after all? Why was I so mean to him? What about my resolutions from a while ago? Was I going crazy? I even wondered if I needed to talk to someone about this, Bou maybe?

I rolled over determined to put it right and show John that I was sorry, but before I could, I heard his soft snoring. He was certainly worried, wasn't he?  It certainly wasn't stopping him sleeping!

Men! 

I was warm, comfortable and safer than in a long time.  Strong arms were holding me tight. His eyes were keeping mine in their power. His body was close, leading me where he wished to go. I felt like sliding with him. I was. We both were. Sliding on the ice. We were on skates. Dancing. A waltz. John was smiling.

But... which one was he? My John? Mystery John? Frankly I didn't care. John was John -the one and only one, the one I loved. I rested my head on his chest, closed my eyes and let him lead, as he hummed the tune of the waltz softly in my ears. Yes, this was the right place to be, lulled by his deep and husky voice...

... He was now talking. His tone was sweet, too sweet... "You enjoying the dance, chérie? Then keep on your dancing shoes, Love Dove... the ball ain't over yet..."

I opened my eyes and looked up at the face that was talking to me. It was SID's grinning back. His fingers lightly brushed my cheek. 

"Nope, not over yet!" he said one last time, like an echo. 

I woke up with a start, bathed in sweat, out of breath and aching everywhere, as if I really had been skating all night long. The dream had been deeply disturbing and I felt panicked.

John's large back was turned to me like a reassuring and solid island on which I could hang to stop me drowning in insanity. So I did just that:  I hung onto him for dear life. He instinctively turned and held me, his body accommodating me in his sleep. I started to cry, first silently, then louder, muttering, "Don't leave me, John, please never, ever let me go...!"

His arms tightened their hold, his sleepy voice answered "I won't. And I won't let you go either..."

He cradled me like a baby and it was the first time for a long time that I felt safe again, just like in that dream, but this time for real. 

Our bodies started to move slowly. We kissed softly, then more and more passionately until we were getting lost in each other again, as before... when...

"No, no, wait... please minou, wait...stop... I'm sorry!"

My rejection hit John like a punch in the stomach. Instinctively we had been almost there, but when it came to it, I just couldn't. He must have felt like I didn't want him anymore. He let me go and turned to hide his disappointment. And hurt.

JOHN

"John... chéri... it's not what you think... I want you, I need you... it's just that... I don't feel very well. I've had a cramp... it's going to pass, I'm sure... just wait a little. Please. Don't leave me alone... Not now... "

Her tone worried me; I turned back. In the soft moonlight, I saw her face, eyes squeezed shut, obviously in pain, lying on her back. She looked up at me, and tried a hesitant smile. "Hey, you should see your face! Come on, don't be disappointed, just give me a little time, I'll be fine. I'm sorry... I promise to make it up to you as soon as it's over..."

But the pain did not pass. Clarity got up and went to the bathroom. I tried to follow but she stopped me. "I'm fine, John... you don't want to watch me go to the toilet, do you? So much for romance... I want you all romantic tonight. I want you to love me...." I backed off and let her go but I wasn't convinced. There was something wrong.

It felt like hours until she came back although it couldn't have been more than a few minutes. She was smiling sadly. "Mon pauvre nounours, I think we'll have to wait a few more days..."

Just my damned luck. I rolled my eyes and let my head fall dramatically back on the pillow. I groaned. "Don't tell me...."

"Yes, that time of the month... sorry, my poor darling!" She kissed my nose, then gently pushed away my hair and kissed all those places begging for her kisses, under my ear, my neck, my throat...

I sighed, resigned it wasn't going to happen tonight but happy to have her back, the Clarity I loved. 

She climbed back into bed and began to slip down along my body. I knew what she was thinking but it wasn't what I wanted tonight. I stopped her, gently pulling her back into my arms, stroking her hair softly. "It doesn't matter. I don't mind... This is enough for tonight... I just want us to be close..."

We settled down for the night, Clarity cuddled up in my arms, my hand gently rubbing her tummy to help ease the monthly pain that I can't share with her any other way.

Some time later, long after we'd fallen asleep, I was woken by the cold space at my side. Reaching out a hand I realised she wasn't there. Pulling myself up, I switched on the light and called her softly. "Clarrie? You okay?"

She opened the door of the bathroom, as pale as a ghost.  'I... I think that there's something really wrong... I don't know what it is... but it is wrong... John...! I'm scared..."

I threw some cloths on and a few minutes later, carried her downstairs to the car to rush her to the closest hospital.

An hour later, it was all over. 

Lunchtime the next day, I found myself at the pub again. Paul looked up as I approached the bar, surprised to see me again so early in the day. He probably didn't expect to see any of last night's carousers today at all. "Beer, Paul... I need it today..."

"You look like you could use a touch of my make-up to put some life back on that pale face! Hair of the dog, huh?" he answered playfully, trying to lighten me up. I was not in the mood for small talk and returned his breezy comment with a dark look.

"You okay, John? Something up?"

I nodded. Paul pushed his luck a little more. 

"Clarity? She okay? She left early last night. I put her in a taxi long before the other girls went. She seemed kind of quiet..."

It was no use lying. They'd all find out soon enough anyway. "She's in the hospital, for a... little procedure. Nothing serious. She'll be fine, Paul. I'm on my way to pick her up and bring her back home now. I gotta go. Thanks for the drink... See you later!"

I threw a few coins on the bar and left in a hurry before Paul asked any more questions. I wasn't ready yet to talk.

I had refused to leave her, except when they forced me out for the necessary examinations, and even then the medical staff had had to be very persuasive to get me to wait outside for a few minutes. The doctor was a woman and she seemed touched by our plight. I guess she could see how scared I was and let me stay the rest of the time, holding Clarrie's hand. It was what she wanted anyway. My presence seemed to calm her - she was very fretful when I wasn't there.

The next day, early in the morning, they ran a few tests and an ultra-sound and told us she would be discharged to go home in the evening if the results were positive. Or rather negative. I knew I had to go back and fetch some fresh clothes for her in the meantime - the blankets and the ones she had arrived in were only fit for the trash.

She smiled wanly and told me to take a few hours, eat, shower, sleep a while - there was nothing I could do now until evening and she planned to sleep a few hours herself. I was reluctant but she was in good hands now and she was right, there was nothing left to do.

As I left the room, I turned to watch her. She looked so pale, so fragile in that little impersonal bed. My throat tightened.  I couldn't do anything for her at the present time, and I needed to get out of there and breathe some fresh air.

So I did what I was told. I went back home, my brain in a haze, took a hot shower, almost burning my skin while barely feeling it. I chose the most comfortable clothes for Clarity, picked up Little John to cheer her up, but then decided that it might not be a good idea after all. Things were complicated enough without involving the bear in this.

Back in the car, I placed Clarity's clothes on the seat where she had sat so still last night, wrapped in the blankets, deadly silent, looking over with wide eyes. I shook the image away, refusing to think about it anymore and started up the engine.

That's when I found myself passing the pub's parking lot. I hadn't eaten since the night before and Clarrie would still be sleeping. Suddenly I needed company and something inside me.

But inside I lost my desire to eat, just ordering a drink. I wanted Scotch but I settled for a cold beer. This was not the time for getting drunk. Clarity needed me too much.

CLARITY

I didn't sleep very long. Some other doctor - with an escort of students- came in, barely acknowledging me. I had seen it all before just as when I had watched over my dying father. The doctor droned on in a bored fashion as if I wasn't there. "Well, what do we have here?"

He looked at my files without much apparent interest. There was obviously nothing he could do in there to impress his admirers. But, in order to show his students how good and 'human' a doctor could be to a mere patient, he walked to my bed, patted my arm in a condescending way, and told me with a self important tone,"It's nothing, little lady, you'll be out of here in a few hours. Everything will be fine..."

...It's nothing... Everything will be fine...

And, on these 'human' words, everyone left the room. Only one of the students, a small brunette with dark caring eyes, turned to look at me with some sympathy. That look loaded with pity felt almost worse than the disdain of the others.

I hid my face in the pillow. But I didn't cry. I couldn't. And, as tired as I was, I couldn't get back to sleep either. Unwelcome thoughts were invading my mind.

Thoughts about the future. Thoughts about the present. Thoughts about the night before... the morning.

"I am very sorry to have to tell you this, Madame Biebe...Mr. Biebe... you were in the early stages of pregnancy. But I'm afraid you have miscarried..." The doctor had told us as gently as possible after the medical team had finished treating me.

I had been pregnant but not anymore. 

I had just lost a baby. A baby we hadn't even known we had. 

Neither of us really reacted at first. Both of us sat in silence, John holding my hand so tight that it almost hurt. The doctor explained that miscarriage happened frequently - especially for a first pregnancy and that there were generally no consequences for the future, that most of the time, it was just nature doing its selection job by expelling a foetus early on that had no any real chance of survival or presented some problems. We listened in silence to all of the explanations; John asked a few questions, and never let my hand go.

After a while, the voices in the room had seemed to fade away; my mind had taken another direction, looking for explanations of its own. 

How could I have been so stupid? What was wrong with me? Last year I thought I was pregnant when I wasn't. This time when I was, I didn't even suspect a thing.

The doctor asked me: "Didn't you even notice anything? Weren't their any physical signs? Mood swings?"

I thought about it. Physical signs? That question made me think about how I hadn't spent much time looking at myself lately, and the scarcity of physical intimacy we had had with John in the past weeks would have kept him from noticing anything. As for mood swings, I wondered, would that explain all my recent weird moods?

I felt a complete failure. Not only had I failed to recognise my pregnancy which even female animals can do, but my body couldn't even keep John's baby safe.

John's baby. Suddenly it all dawned on me. Sure. John's baby.  But which John?  My heart missed a beat. Which John fathered this baby? It couldn't... it was not possible... But, yes, it was very possible!

Had this baby paid the price for what had happened in Mystery? Oddly, I had never really regarded a few-weeks-old embryo as a baby before, not a human being. Not yet. But now I did. This one had been. It had been our baby. And I hadn't been able to give our child the shelter he needed to grow until he could be born. Even animals knew how to do that. But not me.

It was even worse than that. 

I was torn between the normal pain of loss when such things happen. The baby would have made John so happy, the apple of his eye. Now there was only a disturbing feeling of emptiness while I'd been robbed of ever consciously being aware of feeling my body filled with this new little life.

But there was also that awful feeling. I was ashamed, scared and disgusted at what I was thinking. In truth I was also feeling... relief. A revolting sense of relief that I wouldn't have to watch this little life grow up while wondering each day who was really the father, a constant reminder that I had betrayed the very man who had given me back my trust in men. The only man I had ever trusted. In that world. But also in the other one, in Mystery.

Suddenly, voices brought me back to the present moment. I jumped. John's hand was still in mine but it felt like it was burning my skin. 

John. 

What was I going to tell him?  How could I explain?

I would say nothing. Nothing at all. 

He didn't know. He couldn't know. He shouldn't know. He wouldn't know. 

I wouldn't allow it. Never. Ever.I would keep my secret even if it choked me. I wouldn't pour out my guilt on him. He had suffered enough already. He was still suffering now from the loss of a baby. A baby who might have not even been his. I would spare him that new torment.

I wanted him to let go of my hand, I wanted to run away and hide. Forever. 

... Fine. Everything is fine...

I would be fine. That's what they had said that night... or early this morning... I didn't know anymore, having kind of lost the notion of time. That's what everyone was saying.

"Would you like some counselling? It can be helpful to talk to someone after an experience like this..." The nurse had said. I looked at her but didn't even replay. How could I talk about this?? How could I say anything to anyone?

I couldn't. 

I simply could not. Not even to the person who counted the most in the world for me. 

Even less to him.

The nurse just shrugged and let me be. I wrapped my arms around me and rocked slowly back and forth. 

They had put me in a room for the rest of the night, so they could keep an eye on me and do some other procedure and examinations in the morning. John refused to leave and had dozed what was left of the night in the armchair while I had fallen into a dreamless sleep, induced by sleeping pills.

When I woke up, the first thing I saw was poor John, uncomfortably asleep in that ugly armchair that must have cradled so many other exhausted and worried relatives. He looked so tired, sprawled in this armchair, his long eyelashes fluttering in his restless sleep.

I reached out but the movement disturbed him - he was still holding my hand. His eyes immediately filled with worry and hurt. It made me bleed for him. I didn't deserve his love.

JOHN

For a few days, Clarrie seemed dazed, probably the result of the medication she was on.  I knew she couldn't stand me fussing around her. She hated to be dependent on anyone. Or that's what I thought was the problem. Until one afternoon, when I thought she was sleeping and went out to get some milk and groceries.

Letting myself back into the house later, whistling tunelessly, I felt a little brighter for the first time in days. The doctors had assured us this was just a set back. Clarity was strong and everything was normal. I knew that it was only a matter of time until she was ready to try again. She had been through a terrible trauma back in Mystery. It was no surprise the toll on her body - and the baby - had been too great. The baby... I couldn't help wishing that... But what good that kind of thought could do right now, huh? Next time would be different. We would get through this together.

Life would be good again. I would see to that. 

Running upstairs, I immediately noticed that the door of the bedroom was wide open. Clarrie should be awake now. I had bought flowers, chocolates, and had some good news for her. Uma and Andy had called; the restaurant would soon be finished. I had an idea of taking her there for a trip to Australia. She had always wanted to go and this was the perfect time...

"Clarrie!" I called out eagerly. 

"Clarrie...?" Still no answer.

The bedroom was empty. I looked in the bathroom, ran downstairs again, looked for her everywhere, in the garden, the garage.  Where the hell was she?

Finally in the kitchen, I saw the note, carefully placed in the middle of the table.

I love you but I don't think I can be your wife anymore. 

Forgive me. 

I was stunned, couldn't believe it. What was going on? Why had she gone? What was she talking about?  I tried to work out where she might have gone. There seemed to be only one answer. The obvious place. She didn't really have anywhere else to go.

I was right. Clarity was at the bar, drinking and talking to Paul. I closed the door quietly and walked forward.

CLARITY

"Paul...I have a favour to ask of you. John and I have had a little disagreement. I need a room for a few days. Could I rent one of those above the pub? I just want to give John a little thinking time...and I would appreciate it if you kept this to yourself..."

Paul looked concerned. He didn't seem very happy with what I was saying at all. But I was desperate and just needed somewhere to stay for a few days. I just needed a little time to decide where I would go now, what I would do with my life.

I had had it all once. And now, I had nothing. 

I chased that thought away. It was the way life was, and I did not need to feel sorry for myself now. That would certainly not help me. I had made my decision; I didn't regret it because it was the best one for John. Later, we would divorce and he would have the chance to find the right woman. One who would not cheat on him, one who would not lie to him, one who wouldn't make his life a hell but would keep him happy... and would be able to keep his babies safe... and alive.

I recognized his footstep the moment he walked in. It sent a shiver down my spine, but I kept on talking to Paul as calmly as I could, pretending I hadn't noticed John's presence.

"Clarrie..." he whispered softly.  I pretended I hadn't heard. Paul frowned and looked up at John who obviously gave him some sign for he didn't say anything. I knew I was being stupid, but I simply did not know what to say. I hadn't even thought it out this far. I had felt the need to leave, so I had left. As simply as that. And now, I had to face the logical consequences of my impetuous action.

John stepped closer and spoke again, this time his voice more determined "Clarity, you come with me now, we have to talk."  He took the glass from my hands, put it down on the bar, grabbed my arm and pushed me gently but firmly in front of him, towards the exit. 

"John! Don't you dare to embarrass me in front of our friends!" I hissed. 

He leaned in and growled back:  "Then don't embarrass yourself and come along peacefully. Don't make me carry you out over my back.... Because I swear I will if you give me any trouble. Enough is enough. I'm through with your whims and fancies. We need to talk. And I can promise you that that's what we're going to do. Now!"

I'd never seen John like that before. There was nothing I could do to stop him - that was clear. So I shut down, pouted, and let him lead me, reluctantly but obediently. I can't even remember what the others in the bar made of it all.

Outside, I said with a quiet but yet challenging voice, "I don't want to go home!"

"No problem, where do you want to go then?"

He didn't argue or drag me back home by force. It was up to me, he said. So I tried to think as fast as possible about the most impossible place in town. Just to annoy him. Or to gain some time.

"I want to go in the woods where you found yourself last year, after you came back from your trip to Mystery!"

"What? Why...?" But I could see he guessed what I was trying to do. So he called my bluff.

"Okay, as you wish. No matter where, on the moon, if you want, but we are going to have us a talk."

In the car, it didn't take long before I started to cry, sniffing to try and hold back the tears. John glanced to the side but this time he didn't weaken and indulge me as he usually did. He simply turned his eyes back to the road, resisting the urge I knew he had to stop and comfort me. But his mind was made up and he was going to tough this one out.

He drove a few more miles further, ignoring me, or at least pretending to do so. Finally he stopped the car, stayed still for a while, his two hands firmly on the wheel, staring straight in front of him. Tears were now pouring down my face. I suddenly realised that it was the first time I had cried since I had lost the baby. Until then grief had been like a cold hard lump inside me that I had refused to ease. As I would explain to John later, not only was it my way of dealing with the worst moments of my life, refusing to acknowledge the pain as if it could make it disappear, but this time, there was something else. I was a bad woman. I had no right to ask for sympathy with my tears. But now, in the face of this new colder, harder John, my resolve was shattered and the release had finally come.

John turned and held out his hand to me. I crawled across into his arms and let the tears flow freely. He let me cry without a word, cradling me like a baby myself, stroking me gently, whispered sweet words of consolation "Let it go, just let it go, baby, it's good to cry. It has to get out one way or another. I'm here for you and won't let you go, not ever."

I heard a catch in his deep voice and raised my eyes to his face. He was crying too. Then like a curtain was drawn back in my mind, comprehension suddenly flooded in. He had lost a child too. His feelings were the same as mine. And all along, he had never said a word or asked for even a word of sympathy or support. I had been his only concern.

As I hadn't even shed a tear for our lost child, he must have felt he couldn't either. How could I have been so hard? So little understanding of his own needs, pain, fears... his own grief? There was so much he needed from me. And, as I couldn't even bear my own pain, I hadn't been able to take on his either.

My sobbing subsided and I lay heaving in his arms, worn out by emotion and held him as he wept silently against my hair. We had both been trying too hard to hide our feelings. It was time to face reality. Until we both talked freely to each other, we could never move on - together or apart.

After a while, John seemed to get a grip on himself again and asked me softly. "So, what makes you think you can't be my wife anymore? Don't I have anything to say about it? You not even going to ask my opinion about what I want?"

"I...I can't tell you, believe me, I really can't. It's just better if I go away and leave you alone." I started to sniff again

"It is?"

"Yes. And... if... if you knew what I had done, then... you... you... you would agree with me... and... and... you would... hate me too!" The rest was lost in incomprehensible sobs.

"Let me see...this terrible thing you did...is it something to do with the fact that you've been intimate with a man who was, in fact... me?"

I looked up at him in shock, my eyes wide open. "What did you say?"

"Whatever you and that other John, back there in Mystery, have done, you haven't cheated on me. How could you?  Because he was still me..."

"What did you say?" I repeated, dazed. 

"You heard me. Clarrie, it's as simple as that. No foul. " His tone was gentle but firm. 

"You... you mean... you knew...?"

He put his hand in the pocket of his jeans and, when he opened his fist, a necklace was lying in his palm. His necklace. The one he had found in my hand while I was awaking from my deep trip into that other world SID had sent me into. He had kept it ever since. All along he has known but never said a word, waiting for the time when I was ready to tell him. And now the time was here.

"Well, I think you're not really difficult to read, Mrs Biebe. Not to me anyway. And... this..." He held the necklace up before my eyes "... this had made it pretty obvious. I never take this off...But I might. If it was all I had to give to the girl I loved..."

"But..."

"And, you know something else...?" he added softer, "... I'm glad that he... no, I'm glad that I... was there for you. Like I will always be there for you..."

"But... but... what... what if... what if...?"

"... the baby was his? What difference does that make? The baby would still have been mine. He was mine. He is mine. As all the others will be. The ones we're going to make....when the time is right..."

"Oh John...I wanted this baby so much...but I was such a coward that I was relieved that he was gone. How could I ever have faced the two of you if I didn't even know who had fathered him? Or her. I think it was a girl. I don't know why I am so sure it was a girl. I even thought of a name and whispered it quietly to her the night we lost her..." Tears rolled down my face again... and his. I reached out and brushed his away, as he did the same to me.

"She was Misty. She is Misty. Misty Grace Biebe...our little girl..." I said. My eyes turned to an inner world where our little unborn girl would live safe forever now, and where only John and I would ever know her.

John couldn't repress an involuntary wince.  "You don't like it?" He took my hand and kissed it softly.  

"I like it. It's the perfect name for her. Misty Grace would have been an adorable little girl, just the opposite of the little devil I'm sure you were. Just like her sisters will be..."

"Me? A devil? Absolutely not, I was a very good little..." Then, what he had just said sunk in. "Aww, John...!" I murmured and snuggled against him, deeply moved by his courage and his faith in me.

And that is where I told him the whole story about my time in Mystery. I left nothing out. There wrapped in his strong arms, I found the courage that he gave to me, and revealed the story that he deserved to know.

But there was one thing I left out. I did not burden him with the details of the night of the big snow.

He never interrupted; he just listened, his eyes staring at the dark landscape outside of the car without really seeing it, his hand rubbing slowly down my back, reminding me that he was there.  When I finished I asked him how it made him feel.

He thought awhile before answering and then: "I felt worried, I felt sad, I felt relieved... and, yes, I felt a little bit jealous too. But mostly, I'm happy to know that someone was with you when you needed it, and that it was me who was the one to take care of you.  John Biebe's a lucky guy. Both of them are. Let's go home, Clarrie. It's not gonna be easy. We've a lot of things we need to put right. But they're only things. They can be fixed. Because we've got the glue we need to mend anything. We've got love. That can never be broken...That's what I feel anyway. That's what the other John felt too...I know it. Because we have the same heart. It's how come he couldn't resist you. And John Biebe wouldn't have done that lightly. Not to Donna. Not to his kids....this I know...here..." And he pointed to his heart.

I just kissed the priceless place he was pointing. 

Much later, back in our bedroom, John lay down beside me and pushed up my sweater, gently placing an immeasurably tender kiss on the bare skin of my belly, saying softly, "Here, when it's right, when the time has come, will be the safe home of baby Mary. Mary France..."

I smiled, looking down at him, but all I could only see was his shiny mane. I could feel his warm breath on my skin, the most pleasurable sensation I had known in months.

Placing his lips a few inches further on my belly, he went on. "And here...some time later, will be the safe home of baby Jamey..." He looked up sheepishly and explained "... it was the name of my best friend when I was a kid, you know?"

I nodded and my smile became even broader. He bent his head again... and again kissed my tummy.

"And just here, and here will be Daniel, and then David, and... "

"Hey, are you raising a hockey team, Captain Biebe...?"

"Sure am... And let's not forget the cheerleaders!" He placed his lips again on my skin a little further down. "Here and here, and there, we have.... Abigail... Elisabeth, and...."

I laughed. "Do they have cheerleaders in a hockey team?"

"There will be in ours...." he responded with a giggle.

I laughed again, pressing playfully on his head, burying his face against my flesh as if to choke him. He pretended to bite so I let him go, laughing even louder.

"Well, I think we'll have to talk again about some of these names, then... although I suppose I should feel happy you didn't suggest calling one of them... Tree... or Skank?"

We laughed together. 

It was good to laugh again. So very, very good.

John looked up, his eyes so intense, filling me with his strength, putting all his trust and hope in me, showing me his confidence for the future. 

One last time he rested his head on me and there we lay. This time I was cradling my man. Harmony was restored in our lives. There would still be difficult days ahead but we had each other. And one day there would be more.  Nothing was too hard for us to tackle.

As long as our future was together.