CLARITY

After that night full of surprises, I was awoken by insisting knocks on the door of my room, coming from a very hungover and bad-tempered Bou. She had seemed to be uncomfortable about something during the evening and had been heavy on the booze (like the rest of us, but for her it was unusual) probably to dull that worry whatever it was.

I had tried to ask her, but she said she was "okay"; she's even more withdrawn than me about private matters. Must have had something to do with Cort, and she was probably missing her baby like a crazy.

Being still surfing (diving might be more appropriate) on the effects of the various alcoholised beverages I had swallowed during that crazy evening, I welcomed her and her noisy intrusion in my needed rest with an amazingly accurate pillow throw... right on her face.

It started it all. I should have remembered that Bou was a formidable warrior... even when hungover! Kathy joined us (she handled pillows impressively efficiently too, I must say!) followed by Mr Beckett, then Uma, Paul, Gaia, Ann... Well, to be honest, we didn't leave much choice to Ann. Uma guessed that she had broken the celibacy rule of that hen party week, and we simply let out our own frustration on poor Ann. But none of this erased that dreamy smile from her face. Nothing could have. Lucky girl!

A while later, when things quieted down, after a good shower and when my brain finally agreed to put at least one cell to work (the other cells were either still asleep or drown in a remain of booze, or had been knocked out by a nasty pillow), I started to wonder: what had really happened after I stopped thinking last night?

The first memory that came to me was rather worrying: a comfortable feeling of being carried in strong arms. Strong arms that couldn't be my husband's ones. And words... words whispered in my ear: "This is going to cost you a lot of money..."

Money? Who had I to pay? And what for? 

Then my memory became a bit clearer and I remembered that it was not "money", but "honey". Which didn't make much more sense...

Oh, it could only be that damn bear! Always around when we needed him the less! But... what would he want me to pay for? The question stayed unanswered. What had I done this night?

A horrible doubt suddenly assailed me. I couldn't.... I wouldn't...??? Oh no, not again! John was right, I should really give up the booze. John... Oh mon Dieu! This time, there was no chance it could be him, or any other version of him!

A wave of nausea rushed me to the bathroom. Okay, maybe it was not only caused by the abject fear of what I had... or could have done.

Seated miserably on the floor, in front of the toilet bowl, I tried harder to remember, but it just made me even sicker and worsened my headache.

I would never have been able to do that to John... and to myself! I loved that man too much, I had no reason of looking for someone else, even less a mere stranger... but I also knew the power of alcohol and the unexpected effects it could have on the quietest person's inhibitions... the effects it had had on mine last year were still deeply and painfully ingrained in my mind.

Alas, except from the strong arms, I didn't have any other memories left. If I had done something... very wrong, surely I would have at least the slightest memory of it, wouldn't I? Or, if my brain hadn't been able to register anything, my body should have. It was aching everywhere, but it could be from all the walking we had done last day, and dancing on the evening? It also felt very relaxed, but it could be because of that new feeling of lightness I was experiencing and that carefree evening with my friends?

As I had no way to find a satisfying answer, and was scared to find one that wouldn't satisfy me, I decided that nothing had happened. I was sure... or rather I decided that I was sure that nothing had happened. No proof, no crime (if only!)

But chance gave me an answer a little later.

The girls were gone shopping once more but I felt too tired to do anything that required a physical effort... and I knew too well the energy these women (and man!) can use when they put their mind into shopping!

So I went down to the kitchen to have a late, solitary and quiet breakfast, along with something for my headache. I wasn't hungry but I knew that's what John would make me do, eat. John... The very thought of it all was making me feel sick again.

A big surprise was waiting for me in the kitchen. 

That big surprise was lying on his back under the sink and the only thing I could see was his legs. I recognized them immediately. 

I recognized them??? My headache got suddenly worse. How could I recognize a pair of male legs I had barely talked to? Talked to the man, not the legs, of course!!!

"Mike!!!" 

I heard a big 'clonk', followed by a soft curse word I had never heard before. 

His shaggy head emerged from under the sink and a big grin brightened his face when he saw it was me. 

"Hi Mrs Biebe! I'm surprised you could remember me! How are you feeling this morning?"

Was it only me or was there really some irony in his words? 

"What are you doing here? You... you know my name?"

Mrs? Wonderful! He knew I was married and, if I ever had been a bad girl last night, this made it even more embarrassing... if possible! Not only I would have to deal with an immense disgust toward myself, an unbearable guilt, without mentioning having to go through the painful, dangerous and damageable process of having to hide again something serious from the person that counted the most in my life. But I would also have to read in this unknown man's eyes what a slut he thought I was... and admit he would be right!

"I'm a plumber, remember? I'm doing what plumbers do, clearing stuffed up pipes." 

I was not sure I liked the now obvious amused tone in his voice. Or rather, I was more and more sure I didn't like it. 

"As for your name... Well, until yesterday... or rather early this morning, I knew only your first name." I felt myself blush violently. "But Roberta told me a little about each of these fascinating women who have invaded my good friend Richard's nest. I wonder how he could resist!"

"Not everyone is like you." I knew I was unfair, it takes two to tango, but I was drunk. And now, I was angry, and, more than that, deeply ashamed of me. 

"Like me? What do you mean? Wasn't I friendly last night?" and his smile grew wider. 

The bastard! He was enjoying this! 

"Probably way too much."

"It was the least I could do!"

Now, he was going too far! Who did he think I was? A neglected spouse lusting for some extra conjugal adventures? My husband didn't need any stuntman, thank you very much, and I was perfectly happy with what I had! Or should have been.

I rushed to him and raised my hand to slap his face. But he caught my wrist before. 

"Hey, hey! What's that for? I only behaved as a gentleman! I know, I'm just a plumber and you might not see any gentleman in me, but my mama raised me right, you know."

How dare he pretend to be offended? I couldn't believe it! And he was not letting go of my wrist. It was becoming almost painful. He saw me wince and let it go immediately.

"I'm sorry."

"Not as much as me."

'Was it so unpleasant to spend a few hours with me?" He looked sincerely hurt to be rejected and I almost felt bad for him.

"It wouldn't have been if..."

"If?"

"If..."

"If what?"

"If..."

"Come on, Clarity... Can I call you that again? You let me last night, remember?"

How tactful! I must have reached again a nice shade of red at these words. But I tried to hold on to my dignity... or what was left of it.

"I suppose you can."

"Thank you. Well, Clarity, would you mind telling me what I've done that has displeased you so much?" He looked sincere. I started to doubt. 

Was he so full of himself that he couldn't imagine that a married woman wouldn't be happy to find out that she had been drunk enough to... with him? He was charming and all, but... come on, I was in love with my husband! And missing him like a crazy!

I had never been with another man before. Well, not really. So, if in my drunken state my unconscious had really given free reins once more to my libido last night, it was even more serious for me. I had always belonged to John entirely, fully, wholeheartedly, and that meant a lot to me. But, if I had done what I feared I could have done, that meant that I had stolen from him a little part of me and given it thoughtlessly to another man I didn't even know.

And I couldn't even remember if it had been worth it! Oooops, did I have really just thought that? Shame on me!!! I should definitively give up the booze! It was making another woman of me!

On the other hand, that man, Mike, could be exactly what he looked like, this morning in that kitchen, so cute in his plumber dungarees, his eyebrows raised, waiting for an answer from me... Innocent. Deadly dangerous and sexy, but still innocent of what I was silently accusing him. And in which I had the biggest part of guilt indeed.

I started to stammer. "It's not you... well, not only... I... you.... you know... we..."

He encouraged me to go on with a little movement of his head, and, at that very moment, he made me think of John when he was trying to be patient with my difficulty of expressing things that seemed very simple to him.

"We...?" Then it seemed to dawn on him! "OH! You think... you think that we....??? NO! No, no, no, never! I would never do that!"

"Now you are becoming insulting!"

He just burst out of laughter, which annoyed me even more and made me feel even more insulted! What was so funny with that idea? I know I was not being very logic, but I'm a woman, and, at that moment, I was a worried, angry, confused and hungover woman.

Mike explained me calmly that, after Paul had found us, we had all joined the others and wandered a little more Bourbon Street altogether, adding a few companions to the already too many drinks we had had.

Then, with Paul's benediction, because he was cleverer than me and could recognize a good man when he met one (Mike didn't say that, I do), he had carried me back to my room. He admitted that I had tried to kiss him while calling him "John", but he had seen my ring from the very beginning and had never had any intention of doing anything else than just spending a good evening with a pleasant bunch of ladies.

So he had simply put me to bed, and realised that he was not so sober himself because he thought he had seen a teddy bear leave the room grumbling after having whispered something in my ear.

Then, when he was sure I was safe and comfortable, he had left... to help Paul with other ladies who also needed more or less... support to find the way to their room. Being a real gentleman, indeed, he never told me who these other ladies were.

I felt both very relieved and... (should I admit it? No, I certainly shouldn't)... a little disappointed, too. Must have been the lingering effects of alcohol. I needed one and only man, and it was John, no doubt about that.

Now that things were straightened out, we both sat down and had a coffee together.

He cleared his throat before talking again. "Clarity, may I ask you a personal question?"

"Well, you can. That doesn't mean that I will answer."

"Okay, I'll try anyway. If you don't want to answer, I'll understand and respect it. But if you do, be sincere with me, and, what's more important, with yourself."

He looked at me in the eyes and seemed to hesitate for a while. "Are you happy with that man? Your husband? Does he make you happy? You don't look it. There seems to be something... broken in you."

My first reaction was to be shocked by his boldness. But then I remembered that he had asked permission before and I had granted it. Besides, nothing forced me to answer.

To be sincere, I was more disturbed by the fact that this man I barely knew could read something wrong in me. 

Much to my own surprise, I didn't even try to hide or deny anything. "It's not him. It's not his fault. He is the perfect man for me. It's me. Just me. I'm not sure I'm able to be happy, even less to make someone happy."

"Bullshit! Sorry for cussing but, I can't let you say such a stupid thing! Anyone is able to be and make someone happy. Even if I've known you only since yesterday, you..."

At that precise moment, the girls and Paul made a noisy and enthusiastic entrance in the kitchen, their arms full of beautiful lingerie, supposedly for Angel's wedding gifts, but I suspected that there was more than that. And I had missed it all!

But it was worth it, even if our conversation with Mike stayed unfinished....

STACY

The next day, I drove by the Come On Inn, and saw the Sheriff's car in the parking lot. I decided to stop for a while. He was there indeed, having a quick lunch, alone. It was as good a chance as any.

I sat on the stool beside him, asked for a beer and told him straight... that I was going to dump Kim. 

I surprised myself. I'd never told anyone about my personal affairs before, and even less about the end of them. Particularly when the first person concerned didn't even know about it yet. So, why was I suddenly telling this to this other man I didn't even know a few days before?

Maybe was it to see how he would react? If that was the case, then I was in for some disappointment. Because he didn't precisely react. He just put the drink he was sipping back on the bar, turned to give me his full attention, and simply asked me gently why.

That too surprised me. I thought it was obvious that a girl like me and a man like Kim couldn't have a long-lasting relationship. Anyone could have guessed that.

Apparently, it didn't seem obvious to John Biebe. 

And that made me think. He made me think. 

I had never really thought about this before. I mean, about the reasons why I usually left a man. I used to stay with someone as long as it felt good to me, then I just went away. No long explanations, no yelling, no tears. I just left. None of them had ever tried to stop me or get me back. But it's true that I'd never really given them any opportunity either.

After a while, as I still hadn't answered him, Sheriff Biebe finally looked at his watch. 

"Listen, I gotta go back to work now. But maybe I could invite you to dinner, now that you're almost free?"

"You... what?" If I hadn't already been seated, I think I'd have fallen on my ass. I thought he was making fun of me, but no, he looked very serious. And didn't repeat his question, knowing that I had heard it perfectly well. He was just waiting quietly for my answer.

I should have felt happy, and flattered. After all, wasn't it what I'd been after from the very beginning: to get his attention? Well, I had just won. 

I was the one who had made the faithful and honest Sheriff fall. 

But just then, I didn't feel so proud about that. And I was kind of disappointed, too. 

So he was just like any other man? 

I'd been falling for his underlying sadness, thought I could see something in him, something different, been happy to see him open again to innocent pleasures with his friends... and me, I believed I had discovered with him another kind of relationship between a man and a woman.

How could I have been such a fool? A man would always be a man. 

Wife away, he was not against a little affair on the side if the opportunity turned up. Nothing significant, just a passing girl, then he would go back to his quiet and safe life.

It reminded me the day when I found out that Santa Claus was a trick played on kids by adults: their very first betrayal. 

I hadn't believed in faithful and honest men before meeting Sheriff Biebe. He had made me believe in it, believe that a man could also be a reliable, dependable companion, not only a living pleasure machine.

And now he had just burst my bubble. Farewell Santa Claus!  

Anyway, I couldn't really hold him responsible for something I had started, and for not having lived up to expectations I didn't even know I had. I should get real, I had tricked myself here.

I swallowed my disappointment and decided to make the best out of it. He remained a charming man and I was certain to spend a pleasant evening... probably more.

"You're asking me on a date, Mister Sheriff?" 

"No, not a date. Just a friend trying to cheer up another friend." 

Yeah, yeah, a friend... sure! Good try but too late for the Santa trick, amigo.

"I don't need to be cheered up, I'm the one who's breaking up, remember? You'd better invite Kim to dinner, he's your friend too. Though I doubt he'll need any cheering up either. And, even if he did, he'd just have to place a few phone calls to get all the company he needs... of the less hairy kind than you, I guess."

He raised an eyebrow, surprised. 

I pretended I mistook his reaction. "What? You think I'm the only one? Of course I'm not, everyone knows that! And, frankly, I don't care. I'm not after a committed relationship. We're both happy with that. Or more precisely, were."

Although he'd told me just before that he had to go, he was still not moving; he was just looking at me, with his intense gaze that seemed to search deep, deep into my soul.

He asked me again softly the same question, and I started to wonder if it wasn't more to make me think about the answer than for him to know it. "Then why?"

If all he wanted from me now was a roll in the hay, why was he doing that?  

"I don't know" was all I could answer... to both his question and mine.

"Yes, you do. You just don't want to admit it, not even to yourself. Particularly not to yourself."

"Oh yeah? Got a first prize in psychology in your sheriff courses? You think you know me better than I know myself?" 

"No, but unlike you, I acknowledge what I can see and feel in you." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Nothing. Forget it. I really gotta go now. So, dinner tonight it is?" 

"What would your friends say?" 

"It's not their concern." 

"Your wife?" 

"She's not your concern." His face so friendly and open just a short a while ago, had once again that withdrawn, unreadable look he had when I had first met him. Subtlety had never been my thing.

I pretended again I hadn't noticed his reaction. "Hmm, let me think... if you're going to treat me to dinner, why wouldn't you take me to that nice place Kim often talks about with the other guys? You know... it has a weird name, sounds Frenchie, like... 'Cher Henri' or something like that?"

"Chez André?" 

"Yes, that's the name!" 

"No."

"No?" 

"No."

"If it's about Kim, he won't mind, you know. I'd bet my skirt on that." 

"Keep your skirt on, sweetheart. It's still no." 

I was having a hard time trying not to let his refusal hurt me. So, he thought I was not even worth that restaurant they all praised endlessly like it was THE place to be. Their place, their nest, along with that pub. I supposed I should already be happy to have been accepted in the Come On Inn?

I hadn't realised that my reaction was written all over my face before I felt his big paw on my bare arm. It made me involuntarily shiver. Whether he felt my reaction to his touch or not, he didn't show it and left his hand where it was.

"Come on, young lady, stop pouting. I'm taking you to a nice place, a place that's fitting for a nice girl like you." 

"A nice place but not that place?" 

"A nice place but not that place." 

"Because I don't fit that place?" 

He didn't answer, just took my hand, placed a gallant but innocent kiss on it, then gave me a smile just as innocent as his kiss. No one had ever done that to me before and, added to this smile, it didn't help me to regain my control.

"I promise you won't be disappointed, madam. You trust me?"

I nodded. I couldn't believe he'd managed to get away from answering my question while leaving a big smile on my lips. Men! 

He asked me where I lived so he would pick me up at 7. And before leaving, he asked me if I was sure about Kim and me. I answered that my decision was already taken.

"Then tell him before I pick you up." 

CLARITY

Before Richard went away, and before the boas night, Mike, who really was a friend of his, had promised him to come and see every now and then if Roberta needed any help, with that house full of guests. At least, that's what he told us when he came back on the next day to the Mimosa.

And the day after. 

That week had run like a dream, full of fun, of wonderful activities that Ann had organised for us. Such as, to name only a few...

... Wandering the Quarter, of course, we did that a lot, admiring its famous and amazing lacy wrought-iron balconies and galleries. We found there places with names that sounded familiar to us like: "Angel Wings", that made Angel blush, "Egan's Hand", that also made Tulip blush while winking at us, we could almost read her thoughts, "Sid's Electric - 24 hours service" that one made us all shiver.

Carol reached a nice shade of red too while recognizing the place where, covered with beads and not much else (okay, I might exaggerate a little), she had asked a policeman to search her, on a crazy night with Ann and some of the girls, around two years ago. I thought I vaguely remembered me trying to kiss that policeman's horse, but, of course, I kept quiet about this.

We almost lost Heather in those numerous and beautiful art galleries, Gaia in pralines shops, Kathy in a Voodoo shop, everyone in the jewelleries, and Bou almost disappeared under all the beads she had bought for all the ones that couldn't be with us, with her usual thoughtfulness.

While being... em... lost in a particular shop, Kathy almost choked at the price of bondage tape. I thought she said that Nashie would have to do with regular tape... but I may have misunderstood.

... Visiting the beautiful St Louis Cathedral in Jackson Square, situated not very far from the 'infamous' Bourbon Street that kept on attracting us irresistibly. Is that necessary for me to add that we've spent more time in Bourbon Street than in the Cathedral?

... Walking along the Mississippi river, on the Moonwalk, where Paul made us a perfect imitation of Michael Jackson... not that this name had anything to do with him, but it got him a lot of applauses... from us, but not only.

... Having a famous café au lait with beignets in 'Le Café du Monde'. Well, okay, I confess that I made the sacrilege of having lemonade instead. But, hey, I was thirsty... and I also admit that I regret it. Fortunately, I got other chances to taste that particular and delicious coffee with chicory.

... Shopping in the Riverwalk Marketplace, where we must have tried all the perfumes guided by Paul's helpful advices, while Uma and Kathy were probably visiting all the shoe shops around and fighting over the same pairs... of shoes. We started to wonder if we shouldn't ask for a third car when we would leave... a special shoes one. I could already imagine Andy and John Nash's faces!

... More shopping in the French Market. Nearby, Wildie took a picture of a statue of Jeanne d'Arc, some beads still hanging from the horse's ears and from the famous Virgin of Orleans' arms.

"For East," she said. 

"East is fond of Joan of Arc?"

"I don't know, but he'll sure love the horse!" and she winked at us while we all burst out laughing. 

"Make one for Max Skinner, too," added Uma wickedly, "Joan of Arc will certainly remind him some memories... wet ones... and not in the good way!"

... Admiring the Lake Pontchartrain and its famous and amazing Causeway, the longest bridge in the world. Impressive. On our way, we crossed several times the 'Elysian Fields' and teased Ann about how powerful Maximus was already in this town too!

... Visiting the quiet and luxuriant Garden District, admiring Anne Rice's and other beautiful houses, then the so special above-ground Lafayette Cemetery nearby, with magnolia trees everywhere.

... Taking a Swamp Tour (I almost missed the boat) during which silly Little John pretended to protect us against gators with a stick... but almost jumped in the water to fight them for the marshmallows the guide was throwing at them so they would get closer to the boat.

... And, of course, among many other activities, we had countless toasts for each of those who were with us... and even more for those who weren't, yep, that makes a lot of people! Voodoos in the Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop, Martinis at the carousel bar of the Hotel Monteleone, two of Ann's favourite places, Piña Coladas, Gin Tonics, Bloody Marys or things that looked similar in various other bars, and even glasses of wines around the pool.

In the middle of all these activities, and in spite of our tiredness on the evening, I admit that I was waiting for Mike's daily visits more and more anxiously. 

I was both happy to see him... and a bit worried. I felt both comfortable and... in danger with him, it was an odd feeling. Something I had not felt with a man for a long time. Maybe never. I had immediately felt at ease with John. I was with Mike too. A little too much. The difference is that I was not allowed to feel that way with him. Or, at least, I didn't allow myself, feeling that it would be like betraying John, mentally.

I was speaking to Mike more and more freely, more than I had to anyone else in the past months. Anyone else but John. I think I may even have told him some personal things, without even noticing it. He listened, his understanding eyes fixed on me, encouraging me to go on.

Like John. But different. 

One day, I called John, to keep track with reality, and because it was our first Anniversary. One year ago, we were in Luberon, surrounded by our friends, doing what Jack and Angel were going to do in a few days, unite our destinies until death... or life drove us apart. I hadn't realised we were going to spend that first anniversary far from each other, but well, maybe was it better that way, maybe was it part, a cruel part of the process to recovery?

Of course, I got the damn answering machine. I left a short message, snapped my cell shut, very disappointed. And cried. 

On the afternoon, I was lazing near the swimming pool with a book, but, in fact, I was watching Mike behind my shades. He was shirtless, doing something on the pool pump or I don't know what it's called. And I confess that I was admiring his muscular body, comparing it more or less consciously to John's one. Both had beautiful bodies, even if very different.

I shrugged and turned my face away from that sight. This wasn't going to get me anywhere. The man was very sweet and sexy, and kind, and handsome, but John was still and would probably ever be the one.

My mind wandered again. 

After the long physical desert that had been my life before I met him, John had awakened my frozen body to male attention. At the beginning, although my soul and heart already belonged to him and wanted to give him unrestricted access, my body still instinctively closed itself sometimes when it felt a male approach, particularly when my mind was asleep. But he had known how to tame it, with patience, and love, and with time he had found the key of that reluctant body. Now, even that unconscious part of me had given itself unconditionally to that man, and opened itself without hesitating. He had the key, he was the key of my whole being.

Though, what he had told me around one year after we had met came back to my memory. "I might not be always what you need. I know I was your first. The day might come when you want to see if there's any more to this than I might be able to give you. And you would be right to wonder... I wouldn't judge you, honey, or blame you... you know I wouldn't..."

It had moved me to tears then, still did each time I was thinking about how unselfishness that man was. I wondered if he would still be as understanding now that we had been together three years, married one and had a baby, even if not born.

I also remembered how much it had shocked me at that time that he could think that I would go and use with someone else what he had taught me... just to see how it was! I was certain it would never ever come to my mind and that I would never ever do this to him, I loved him too much!

I still do. But, even then, I knew that no one can read the future; and that we should never say never. 

So, on that hot day in New Orleans, I turned my head again and there I was, at hundreds miles from my home and my husband, enjoying the sight of another man's half naked body, wondering if John could have been right years ago, and if that day had come.

At that precise moment, as if he could feel my gaze... and my unsettling thoughts, Mike turned and smiled at me. 

STACY

In the evening, John Biebe's car was in front of my building's door at 7 sharp, like he had said. 

All day long I had thought about this rendezvous. I didn't remember having felt so nervous before, not even on my first date. But this was not my first date, I knew what was going to happen and I wanted it.

I was a big girl and thought I had got over my stupid mixed reaction to his invitation, and I now understood perfectly why he couldn't take an almost unknown girl to the restaurant where he usually went with his wife.

I felt suddenly tired of being understanding. I always thought I'd been using men all my life, now I was starting to wonder if it hadn't been the other way around. Who had ever tried to understand me? ME!!!

What was wrong with me? Men not trying to understand me had never bothered me before. And, to be honest, I'd always kept all the doors to my true self tightly shut, and had never allowed anyone near. Not that anyone had ever tried very hard. 

Except John Biebe. 

This one hadn't been using me. He had listened to me. And now, he was just taking what had been offered freely to him for days. He was just being a man. 

Then better enjoy this moment like I used to do with any other man.  

But, when he got out of his car to open the door for me, I felt nervous again like I never had before in my adult life with any other man. 

The Sheriff had kept his word: the restaurant was exactly like he'd said, a very nice place, matching simple people like us, pleasant surrounding but nothing too awkward, great food but not too fancy. He had chosen the perfect place for me to feel treated like I wished I was, but yet comfortable... without his wife's shadow lingering around, and the disapproving looks of his friends. This man was really tactful, and at least he knew how to seduce with style.

After Sangria as a starter, he ordered for us, probably without knowing it, my favourite wine, California Chardonnay. I was grateful he didn't try to impress me with one of those pretentious French wines I'd never tasted yet but had heard about and already knew I couldn't stand.

A few glasses later, we were talking about the Come On Inn and the different people I'd met there these past days, carefully avoiding the subject of those I hadn't met, when he unexpectedly tried to start me talking about Kim again. Now that was a weird tactic of seduction!

In fact, he didn't really ask, at least not with words. He just looked at me intensely when I casually mentioned Kim's name, tilted his head to one side, and raised his eyebrows in a silent question, the question I had left unanswered hours ago.

I sighed, but tried to give him an answer, anything that would come to my mind, or he'd never let this go. 

"I'm leaving him because I'm not sure I want an empty relationship with an empty shell anymore." That answer surprised me more than him. 

"Kim is not an empty shell. Give him a chance; give him time, he will become a good man. He already is but doesn't know it yet. Just give him time." 

"I have no time."

"Then take it. You need time yourself."

"Time for what?" 

"Only you know."

"I don't."

"You will, when it's time."

"How would you know that?"

"I've been married twice, sweetheart. Yet, I won't pretend I understand women. I still don't, most of the time. But I told you, sometimes we fool men can see in you things you don't."

Married twice? Now that was surprising information! I would have sworn he was the kind of man who spends his whole life with the one woman he has chosen.

I noticed the sad smile that had just appeared on his lips after that revelation, and couldn't resist placing my hand on his. He looked at me and smiled again, almost shyly, but took his hand back gently, rescued by the arrival of our next course.

I observed him while he was joking with the waiter. I couldn't figure him out. What was he really doing here with me tonight? What kind of man was he? Apparently a kind I didn't know.

Dinner went on, and we talked... or rather I did. I was not aware of that then, but I was now talking openly about Kim. Kim and me. I was probably saying more than I'd ever said to Kim himself, and more than I'd said to any man before. Not even my dad. Funny that my dad came to my mind now, it hadn't happened for a long time.

John Biebe was responsible for that. He encouraged me, his own way. Keeping me under the spell of his quiet but intense gaze, he listened to me. He didn't say much more than a word every now and then, but always the right one, nodding, or just smiling, And I may not have been aware of that either, but I think that he simply made me answer questions I didn't even know I was asking myself, deep inside me.

He never said a word about himself. 

After dinner, the Sheriff drove me back home without asking for a night cap. I think I'd had a little too much of this delicious Chardonnay, or would Fate have make it happen anyhow...? Anyway, I slipped on the wet pavement and hurt my ankle.

I swear I didn't do it on purpose, but I admit that if it had to happen, it couldn't have at a better time. In spite of what I first thought after his invitation, he hadn't made any move on me during that dinner, showing nothing else but friendship. I didn't really know anymore what I wanted from him myself, but the only thing I knew for sure was that I wasn't in a hurry to end this wonderful evening and to let go of the kind and sexy Sheriff.

Let's say that Fate helped me, for once. 

The kind and sexy Sheriff, who obviously had only intended to say a friendly and respectful goodbye at the entry of my building, had to now carry me up the three flights of stairs to my little apartment.

Once up there, though I could feel through his shirt that he was still in good physical shape, the poor man was in a sweat, so I naturally offered him a drink. He looked at me, frowning.

"Don't fret, Sheriff, it's just a friendly drink. No trap in there." 

He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. 

My finger captured a bead of sweat running down his temple before it got lost into his beard. "Look at what I've done to you now! I knew I shouldn't have had any dessert! But remember, you insisted!"

"Oh, it's not you, you're not much heavier than a sparrow... and you were dying for that dessert, admit it! I just didn't handle those stairs too well. You sure they're regular height? If so, I guess it's just me getting older!" he answered playfully. "I suppose I don't have any other choice than giving in to temptation and accept that drink then."

For a few seconds, I found myself hoping that there was something else behind his agreement, but a look into his clear eyes told me that he was really thirsty... and not for my body. Because of that close contact with his muscular body, and my loosened will, I knew what I wanted now. I wanted both his friendship... and that strong body.

I had caught his appreciative look on my assets several times during the evening. Even if he had decided to stick to friendship, he was still a man. 

And the night was not over. 

He put me back on my feet... or rather my foot, but I kept my arms around his neck.

"You're far from getting old yet, Sheriff. I can tell there are still a lot of muscles under that shirt. You a sportsman or something?"

He unlocked my arms from his neck and pushed me gently back to make me sit on the chair behind me. 

"I was a hockey player. Let's have a look at this ankle now."

He knelt in front of me, deftly took off my shoe and palmed my ankle as delicately as he could with his big hands. I winced. 

"Nothing broken in there. Not even a sprain. It'll be gone by tomorrow. For now, I'm going to massage it with some liniment, it'll relieve the pain. Where's your medicine cabinet?"

"Medicine cabinet? I don't have one."

He shook his head, disapproving. "Okay, ice will have to do then."

He was right, I felt so much better. "Are you a magician... or a doctor?"

"Neither, unfortunately. But believe me, honey, I've seen my share of injured ankles. Better now?"

"Much! But... aren't cute doctors supposed to kiss their patient better?"

"You watch too much TV... and have had too much wine. But you've been a brave girl, and besides how could I deny a little comfort to a... damsel in distress?" He laughed.

I didn't, but shivered in anticipation of that so expected kiss, feeling all warmed up already. I puckered up and closed my eyes. 

He did kiss me. On my forehead. Like a child. 

"Now I feel worse!" I muttered. 

But he didn't hear me; or pretended he didn't.

He poured us each a glass of orange juice as it was all I had in my fridge, then raised his. "To your quick recovery!" and he gulped it down thirstily. 

While he was drinking, I was mesmerized by the movement of his Adam's apple, and couldn't keep my eyes away from his strong neck. 

We started to talk again. He was pushing me again slowly, quietly to depths inside myself I was not only not used to reaching, but also not eager to; but I would have done anything to keep him with me longer.

I soon felt the need for something stronger and poured myself a glass of Brandy from a bottle that was already on the table. He looked at it with a little smile, as if it reminded him of something, and I thought he was going to tell me something. But he didn't.

He shook his head 'no' when I wanted to put some in his own glass. He had drunk only a few glasses of wine during the dinner. "Don't drink and drive", that man was too reasonable for his own good!

That Brandy was not such a good idea after all, because it made me tell him improbable things I would never have said to anyone, or that wouldn't even have come to my mind when sober. Imagine! I told him that I wished I could have a serious relationship now, with someone I could trust and with whom I would raise our children!

The understanding smile that was lingering on his lips while I was talking disappeared instantly. 

"What? What did I say? You don't like children, Sheriff?"

He swallowed hard and blinked rapidly a few times, but didn't answer. He grabbed the bottle of Brandy and poured himself a drink. He gulped it down even faster than the orange juice.

He winced, then smiled again and said "So...?"

I tried to look into his eyes, but he didn't let me, turning his head to the window. He skilfully brought the conversation back to me. I was too far gone already in my own introspection... and booze, so I let him drive me away from his reaction. But I did notice that he got another drink. And another one.

When he told me it was time for him to leave, I asked him if he could help me to my bedroom first. This time, he didn't hesitate and took me effortless in his arms. Although he was not so steady on his feet himself by then, he managed to carry me safely to the room. But once there, he stumbled and we both fell entangled on the bed, giggling like kids.

Then, there was a long silence; I thought he had fallen asleep, his face nestled, by mere accident, between my breasts. It felt good. 

But he suddenly raised his head, looked me in the eyes, opened his mouth, as if to say something, then closed it again, still staring at me. What I could read in these limpid eyes made me forget instantly about the naughty thoughts that had been invading me just before.

It was a silent cry for help. Whatever was on his mind at that moment was obviously painful to him. And I didn't know how to help him. 

"Say it, John. You can say it, it is safe with me," I told him softly, although I had no idea what was going on with him. I just felt he was fighting hard against something that was overwhelming him, and that he should let go.

I stroked his cheek, like a mother, tenderly. "Just say it..."

He turned his head away and a heavy sigh escaped his lips. 

"I... I've lost my family..." He had spoken so lowly that I could barely hear him. His look was unfocused, as if looking at something only he could see, something obviously from his past.

Although his first words had already hit me hard, I could feel there was more to come. "Go on..."

He looked at me, as if remembering that I was there. 

"... then I... we... we've lost our baby." He stood up, now looking angry, desperately angry. "And, each time, there's been nothing, absolutely fucking nothing I could do!"

He turned to walk away, but I also stood up, as fast as I could with my hurt ankle, grabbed his hand and forced him to sit down again. I knew my strength was no match for his, but he just let me. I had the feeling that it wasn't from me that he wanted to run away, but probably from all those emotions that were taking over. Emotions that he didn't want me to read on his face as he turned it away from me. But I didn't need to see his face, I hadn't let go of his hand and I could feel it tremble.

"It's okay, John. You have a right to be angry, and sad. Let it go." And I did what I had been dying to do for days now, but not for the same reasons. I put my arms around him and hold him, tight. He was breathing hard, still trying to control his emotions. He looked so vulnerable, so lonely, so desperate!

He made another weak attempt to go away again, but I didn't release my hold on him.

"Shhhh, don't fight, Johnny baby. It's alright, you don't have to be brave, no need to be strong with me. Just let it go." 

He was very tense, then I suddenly felt him lose the battle against himself and give up at last. He buried his face in my hair and relaxed in my arms, letting a soft sob escape his chest. He must have been keeping it inside for such a long time!

"Yes, that's it, that's a good boy, let it go, let it all out." And I stroked his soft and shiny hair, soothing him like a child.

I didn't completely get what had really happened to him, but I didn't really need to know anyway. All I knew was that he had lost his children; nothing could be worse for the loving father I knew he was. And I guessed that he had managed somehow to keep it together until now... probably for the sake of his woman.

Probably that same woman who hadn't hesitated to leave him to have fun with friends, as Kim had told me, without even noticing that her man needed help and support. What kind of a heartless and selfish bitch could do that to this man?

I too felt overwhelmed by a wave of mixed and long since forgotten strong feelings. I felt tears run down my cheeks. Tears of anger, tears of sadness, of frustration. I cried silently for him, I cried for these lost children, I also cried for that woman I hated without knowing her, but no woman deserved to lose a child. And I think I cried also a little for myself. I couldn't remember the last time I had cried in my adult life.

It had been so long since I'd felt so moved by someone, so long since I'd felt sorry for someone else but me, sincerely, deeply. 

It was a weird feeling, but also a freeing one, I couldn't explain why. This man had awakened my true self and my feelings, not with a kiss, but with his pain. He had made me feel worthwhile, trustworthy, useful, by letting me help him to release that tension, unload part of this burden that was obviously weighting so heavily on his shoulders. He made me feel strong. He made me feel alive.

I wished I could do more for him, I wished I could really relieve his pain, but nobody could. All I could do was hold him and be there for him. Now.  

I went on stroking his hair for a long time after his breath had become even and calm, and his body completely relaxed against mine. I felt like he was under my protection at that very moment. I knew that it wasn't really true, and I knew it wouldn't last. But this was an unknown feeling to me.

And it felt great. Real great.

CLARITY

I stretched my numbed limbs in that big bed. My sleepy mind was still full of these memories of entwined bodies, of strong arms holding my needy body. My hand stroked the other pillow...

It was empty. 

It had been from the beginning. I had only kept that extra pillow as a habit but it was unused. And I was alone in that big bed. Always been. It had only been a dream.

And the man in my dream was John. 

I thought I had my answer. It was coming from deep inside of me. I could watch another man with pleasure, but I still needed only one. Mine. If I was in need of a body, it was not any body, it was John's one, the one of the man I loved and that meant everything to me.

I had to talk to Mike. Honestly. 

I had tried to, a while ago, when we were both around the pool, just for the pleasure of talking to him. But, before I could say a word, he had told me that he had to go back home, get some more fitting tools to do whatever he had to do on that pump he was working on. So, I had gone back to my room to have a nap. Nights were short and days full, we had to catch rest each time we could.

I looked down through the window, he was back now. When he would be done, if he still had a little time, I would try again and talk to him. It was about time.

When I got down, he was finished and thirsty, Roberta was away, the perfect opportunity for me to get him a drink and have a little privacy while the others were enjoying the swimming pool.

I dragged him discreetly under a parasol, as far as I could from the swimming pool, but still in view so we wouldn't attract our friends' attention. It would look like I was just offering a drink to that poor sweaty man, the least I could do after he had worked so hard for us all to keep enjoying the pool.

While we were sipping our lemonade, I started hesitantly. "Mike, I must talk to you. Seriously."

He smiled. "Why? It wasn't serious when you talked to me the other times?"

I gathered my courage and went on. "I think... listen Mike, I must tell you... I don't think I can..."

I stopped. It was even more difficult than I thought. 

"What can't you do?"

"Well... you know... we shouldn't... you and me..."

"You and me?"

"Yes... oh, Mike, please help me here, don't make it more difficult than it already is, will you. You know what I mean... What I'm trying to say is that, as much as I like you... I can't..."

"Of course you can't. And I can't either." 

Here we were! And here I was again, blushing in an embarrassing moment with that man once more. "You... you can't either?"

He looked at me strangely, but went on. "Well, if we were living closer to each other's place, we could have become friends, real friends, you know, but nothing to worry your husband about... Or my girlfriend."

"Your girlfriend? You have a girlfriend?"

"Why yes, of course I do! You thought... What were you thinking, Clarity?"

"No, nothing! I thought nothing! Oh, this is embarrassing! I'm sorry...."

"Don't be, it's probably my fault." 

"No, I'm just silly. But... why...?"

"Why...?"

"Why did you approach me?"

"You did. Remember?"

"Oh... "

"Sorry, that wasn't very gentlemanly, was it?"

"No, it wasn't, but it's the truth. So, no harm done... except stupid me, to my pride, a little."

"Listen, if I had been available, and you too... maybe..."

I put a finger on his lips to stop him. "Shhh, don't feel obliged to say anything you don't think."

"What I think, what I know is that I'm glad you approached me."

"Why did you come back? Why did you spend all that time with me?"

"I knew you were married. And I thought, I still think that this lucky guy, wherever he is now, maybe was not aware of what's going on with you. You know, I'm convinced that if someone had been there to help my fiancée, I mean had sincerely been a friend for her when she was as lost as you are now, for many reasons, things would have been a lot less painful for everyone. I wanted to be that friend for you, Clarity."

I looked at him without understanding. 

He glanced around, but the others had gone back to their rooms to have a shower and relax before the activities of the evening. He took my hands gently in his.

"What's wrong, Clarity? It's not him, is it? He must be a great guy if you love him... and you love him, don't you?" 

I nodded and felt tears start to roll down my cheeks. I didn't know what was happening to me, I just couldn't help it. 

He held me; I let him. His strong arms around me reminded me of other arms that I was suddenly missing painfully again. He rocked me gently, like John had often done these past months when I was overwhelmed with sadness. There was nothing sexual in this, only tenderness.

He whispered in my ear while stroking softly my back. "It's alright. Tell me what's wrong; sometimes it helps to put it into words..."

I stopped sobbing and... "We've named her Misty..." I started to talk, and talk, without being able to stop, like an opened dam. And he listened without saying a word, just holding me and kissing brotherly the top of my head.

And, for the first time, I told someone else, nearly a stranger, about the loss of our baby. 

And, he was right, it helped. The pain was not gone but it felt a bit lighter.  

Before leaving him, I asked, "Mike... your fiancée? She's alright now?"

He smiled. "Yes, she's alright now."

For the first time in months, my sleep that night was dreamless and restful.

STACY 

In the morning, when I woke, he was gone. 

The only reminder of his presence in that room was a note, with only two words in his neat handwriting.

"Thank you."

I smiled and ran a finger tenderly over the words. 

I was not surprised. I knew that man wasn't for me, that he had never belonged to me and never would. I realised that, in spite of my efforts to pretend otherwise, I'd known it from the very beginning.

But I would never forget what we had shared, even if just for a while, that short but significant friendship. I could see now that we'd both gained kind of a freedom from it. A different kind of freedom from and for each of us, but something I think we both badly needed.

I'd finally found that key to his inner safe, part of it. And the treasure that I'd found in there was not the one I expected, but it was even more valuable. 

I was used to giving relief to men's bodies, but this time it was his soul I'd helped to relieve, even if only a little. I didn't know that a girl like me could do that. It reminded me that I could have been a good girl. In another life.

Maybe wasn't it too late... if I tried hard?

I knew I would never see him again. 

But I also knew that this was not an end. It was a beginning. For me, but also for him. 

I understood now that what I thought about his wife didn't count. I would never know her, certainly never meet her either. What counted was that he still loved her and she was the one he needed, I knew it. I could feel it from what he hadn't said about her. There was more love in his silences than in any word. And, with a love like that, I was sure, I wanted to believe that he would again find that happiness he was craving and that no one deserved more than him. I could only hope that his woman would be able to give it back to him.

Finally, thanks to him, I knew now what I wanted in my life. 

I wanted a man who would, like him, make me feel worthwhile, who would make me feel like the person I could have been, and to whom I would give what I now believed was still left in me. I wasn't sure there was one like him for me somewhere, but at least, I knew now that such men existed.

Thanks to John Biebe. 

JOHN 

I don't know how I got to the pub this morning, but while I was there I decided to have a healthy breakfast to try and get rid of my headache. The day would be a long one as we had planned that tonight we boys would send Jack into married life in a proper manner. We had no idea how long the send-off would last, but at least we had till Saturday to recover.

Spending time again at the pub with my buddies these last few days, and relaxing in their silliness had reminded me that there was still a life outside our couple.

But now I couldn't wait for Saturday. 'Cause Saturday was not only the day of the wedding, but also the one that would bring us back our girls... my girl. 

I hadn't been too keen about letting her go, she was still so fragile. But it was the first time in a long time that she seemed so enthusiastic about something. I kinda hoped it would take her mind off things. Besides, she wouldn't be alone there.

But Saturday was still far, two more days. And, right now, another girl, Stacy, was still pretty much filling my mind... or what was left of it. 

I couldn't understand what had happened last night and didn't want to think about it.

But thanks to Stacy, I felt ready now to face life again with a lighter heart. Nothing was changed, the loss was still there, but I was now strong enough again to face it. And help Clarrie to do it, too. Together we were going to move beyond it.

And we had no reason to feel guilty about it. Life was still there, full of possibilities, full of opportunities, full of happiness. Nothing would erase the past. I didn't want to erase it. It was part of our history, of who we were. But we still had the right to live and enjoy life.

My cell phone brought me back to the present; I had a text message. I hoped it wasn't the station; I hadn't finished my breakfast yet. 

It was not. 

"I'm the one who should be thanking you. You've given my life the sense I had been looking for so long without even knowing it. We both know we'll never see each other again, but you'll always have a special place in my heart, Sheriff John Biebe.

Fondly, Stacy."

There was a P.S.

"My father used to tell my mom when she was pregnant that he could already see me twinkle in her eyes. If you ever remember me, I'd like you to do it with the name they gave me: Maria Estrella Hernandez."

I was so caught reading that moving note, I didn't hear Kim come behind me. He had the tired face of someone who had had more booze than sleep last night. He looked over my shoulder at the message, but I gave him a warning stare and he stepped back before he could read it. He shrugged and asked Cullen for tea.

"She's dumped you too, Sheriff? She wasn't worth it anyway."

I looked at him again, looked back at the message, then sighed and pushed the 'delete' button. 

"No, she hasn't. And she is. You'll probably figure that out one day, son... when you become the kind of man she deserves. Some day. In the meantime, I think she could do with some fresh coffee."

STACY 

That evening, I felt a bit down. All my positive thoughts of the morning seemed now to be gone. Or at least asleep. I couldn't help feeling alone again, and sad.

I had rejected Kim and lost John. Well, 'lost' might not precisely be the right word... but it was the right feeling. 

I knew that tonight he would be with his buddies, enjoying Captain Jack's stag night. And on Saturday... on Saturday, he would go back to where he belonged, and to whom... his family... his wife.

I would never go back to the Come On Inn. Not even for Kim. Kim, whom I had come to like a bit too much, as I knew it by now, thanks to John Biebe. I was now aware that it probably was the reason why I had left him... for fear of becoming sentimentally bonded to the very one who wanted no bond. 

What was I going to do now? These two men had given me, each in their own way, and more or less consciously, new knowledge about life, and myself. Now I had to find the strength to use it. Alone.

A tear fell on my hand. 

At the same moment, the door bell rang. I sniffed, and yelled without thinking. "It's open!"

Listening to the sound of these familiar footsteps, I tried to kill the crazy hope rising in me. 

A few seconds later, Kim was there, in front of me. 

I was doubly surprised. He should have been celebrating Jack with his friends... with John, at that time, and he had absolutely no reason to come back here. 

He stayed silent for a while, then pointed with a quick nod to the bandage John had put on my ankle yesterday. John had been right; it didn't hurt much anymore today. But I had kept the bandage.

"You okay?" Kim's tone was rather cold. 

"It's nothing. Kim..."

The way he looked at me kept me from finishing my sentence... which was fine with me, because I didn't really know what I'd say after. 

He started to pace nervously. I was watching him, waiting for him to make the next move. I had no idea what was going on with him. 

He finally stopped, faced me and said angrily, "You were right to leave me. If you hadn't, I'd have left you sooner or later anyway. That's the way I am, I've nothing to give, but a few kicks. And a lot of tears."

I looked at him, stunned. He hadn't reacted yesterday when I had told him that I was breaking up with him. He had just said, "Okay, love, your loss." It hadn't surprised me, I knew he wouldn't care. So, why was he here today, angry?

"But...?" I wanted to encourage him to go on, because I could feel there was something else. I just didn't know what. 

He almost shouted his next words. "But not for him!"

"What?"

"Tell me what he has that I don't, huh? What's better in him? You prefer your men older? Fatter? More... married?"

So this was what it was all about? He was jealous? Kim, the ultimate womanizer, was jealous? It was hard to believe and it would have made me smile if I hadn't felt something else, something that I couldn't define.  "You came all that way to ask me that? You?"

Oddly, he suddenly calmed down and changed the subject. "I brought you some coffee."

Only then did I notice the travel mug in his hands. "Co... coffee? But... why?"

He didn't make sense. His fit of jealousy, and now this coffee thing didn't make any sense. 

He shrugged. "Why not?" 

I tried to think. I tried hard to understand. The coffee could be a poor excuse... but the jealousy...  He was jealous of John Biebe...? Then I remembered what he had so often said to me, at the pub. And realised... this was not about me!

"You want me to leave the Sheriff alone, huh? That's what you want?"

It was his turn to seem surprised and a bit disconcerted. "You're a big girl, and it's not my business anymore, it's just..."

"... I know, I'm not his kind, you've said it often enough."

He softened a little and said lower, "You could very well be his kind, love. The guy has good taste... like me." 

He paused, looked down at his shiny shoes, embarrassed; then at me again and took a deep breath before speaking again. "Listen... There are two kinds of blokes. The okay ones, and the bastards. I'm the latter kind. But Biebe is the former."

"Is that the problem, Kim? That I could drive him away from the right path in life?"

"Did I say that?" he asked briskly. 

"You don't need to." 

He shook his head. "He's had a rough year and doesn't need more trouble."

"I know." 

"Bloody hell, I can't believe I'm here, talking with my girl... my former girl... about another bloke!" 

"Don't worry, I'll never see him again."

"I'd better go now." He let out a sigh and walked to the door, where he seemed to hesitate before finally turning to me. "You'll find your own 'okay bloke' someday... if that's what you really want."

He opened the door to leave. 

"Kim?" 

"Hmm?"

"Before I go out and find that 'okay bloke'... if it's what I really want... would you stay with me? Just tonight, then I'll let you go. Please. Stay..."

CLARITY 

On the next day, our last one in New Orleans, Ann proposed, for those who hadn't made the first trip, to go to parts of the city and its surroundings that had been hit harder by Katrina and its consequences.

We all joined. None of us wanted to forget that those amazing people who had been offering us so friendly and generously their good humour, fun, entertainment during this week, had suffered, still were for many of them, and that beside all the beautiful places we had seen, there also were scars and still open wounds.

So Ann drove us once more through the still damaged areas, commenting and explaining softly again what was around, or what was not anymore, how it happened, when.

Like on the first time, we were mostly silent, overwhelmed by the powerful atmosphere of these places, unable to share our feelings or even put words on them... just as I am still right now when thinking again about it.

I was as moved as I had been during our first visit, maybe more. I perceived more details, felt things even more deeply, and it provoked in me thinking that had been hampered by the shock of the first meeting.

Once again, I felt uncomfortable watching these places where people had lost everything, including sometimes lives, theirs or their dear ones'. I mean, it felt kind of indecent to me. I know that most people's attention is instinctively attracted by the sight of tragedy. I'm not better than anyone. But I've always felt guilty about it and fought that instinct, generally forcing myself (when I can't do anything to help, of course) to go on my way without looking, not because I couldn't bear what I would see, but simply out of respect for the victims and their family.

I finally decided to ask Ann, who was answering patiently and openly the few questions we managed to ask, how she felt about this, if we couldn't be considered as "voyeurs" by those who had suffered here, whose destroyed lives we were watching. Her answer touched me deeply.

She told us that, to her and to the people here, it was important that as many people as possible could see the consequences of what had wounded almost to death their place two years ago.

Thanks to her, we understood how important it was that we never forgot, that the World never forgot that besides the trauma of the disaster itself, there were still here and today people whose daily life had not yet come back to normal, places that had still not been rebuilt... and maybe never would. Ann never talked about herself and her family, but we knew that, even if they considered themselves as privileged compared to so many others, their own lives and their perception of life would never be the same either.

And this message was as important for us to carry back home and pass on around us, as the one about New Orleans still being alive, New Orleans still being able to party like only its people know how to party, without ever taking themselves too seriously, and share with every visitors that joie de vivre that had contributed to make of this town, of these proud and welcoming people who had impressed us all along our stay, what and who they were, still are, and will ever be. 

At the end of this trip, we felt personally touched each time we met a positive indication that life was coming back, even if slowly. 

We rejoiced with Ann at the sight of those signs hanging on more and more places now, a gas station, a restaurant, a mall: 'Now open'. They were so much more than two words on a sign! They were memories of terrible times, but also a symbol of hope and belief in the future.

We were experiencing similar mixed feelings about the presence of trailers in front of damaged houses. Of course it first meant that, after all this time, their inhabitants still couldn't settle again in their house. But it also meant that, in spite of all the hard times they had been through and their reduced and uncomfortable living space, they had not given up, still believed and worked hard together on the rebuilding of their home, of their town.

It appeared to me that the global and strong message that this incredible town and its inhabitants were delivering to us was that it was normal to grieve after a tragedy, and there was no shame in doing it while still going on living and not denying ourselves the right to enjoy what life had left us.

I suddenly realised the priceless gift that had just been offered to me through this message of hope, of life.  

Later, while packing my luggage to go back home, I thought about all that had happened during this week in this so special place, and what I had found there, thanks to unexpected helps. I deduced from it that I had probably taken successfully my next step on the way to recovery... somehow differently from what I expected, but the results were there. 

With my friends, I had had fun, I had felt careless, and free and happy for the first time in a long time. Of course we had drunk a little more than we should have, but I had found out that it was less alcohol that helped me than the social gathering that came with it. I had never drunk alone. I wouldn't deny that its numbing effects often helped to soothe my anguish. But I could do without it.

Whereas I couldn't have made it without my friends. Their sense of humour, and more than that, their familiar, warm and reassuring presence had made John's absence more bearable.

More than bearable to be honest. Except on the first day which had been really hard, and a few other moments when I had missed him painfully, I had felt lighter than I had in months almost from the beginning. That constant and heavy feeling of underlying sadness that had weighted on me these last times was gone.

Did it have something to do with that odd feeling I had had before the trip that I needed to go away, that John and I needed to be apart for some time? Not because we didn't love each other anymore but...

And then it dawned on me. It was not really from John that I needed to be away for some time, but from our relationship. From our common grief. 

Our relationship had become synonymous of sorrow to my troubled mind, I could understand it now. When together, John and I felt we had no right to be happy. Unwillingly, the other, just by his very presence, the father or the mother of that baby who was not anymore, reminded us constantly that we had no right to happiness, not only because of our loss, but out of respect for the other's loss too. And that had certainly been the main reason for our problems lately, for our inability to be happy again together. It was probably what drove so many couples apart after the loss of a child.

John must have felt exactly like me! And we couldn't even see that we were not able anymore to help each other. The very opposite. We thought we did, but, in a way, we only made unconsciously things worse. But now, I felt that the spell was broken, I was ready to go home and face life again with a brand new strength.

That was the reason why we really needed that time apart.  

It was probably the same reason that had kept me from talking to any of my friends, as I initially intended to do. Not only hadn't I been able to resolve myself to spoil their own lightness by imposing the weight of my sorrow on them. But during that week, their unknowing had made of me what I had always been before: 'one of them', and not what I had become lately in my own mind: 'the one who had lost a child and was sowing sadness around her'.

I would tell them someday. But that week was not the right time for that.  

Yet, I had talked. And it was a mere stranger that I had chosen to be the recipient of my secret. But was Mike a mere stranger? And had I really chosen? That man could have truly become more than an acquaintance. As a matter of fact, he had been. More, so much more than that.

Without knowing it, he had also helped me to be surer than ever that I belonged to one and only man, my man, and needed him as much as I needed to be there for him. But Mike had also made me realise that I was still alive and could watch a good looking man without feeling guilty or wondering if I would be unfaithful.

I had read somewhere that "the Big Easy allows you to be yourself" How true! It had just freed me. Thanks to this amazing place and its people, thanks to my friends, I knew that nothing would replace what we had lost, but we had still rights to live and be happy.

Oh, I was so looking forward to going home now, to going back to John and share with him what I had found during that trip, that new serenity, that new strength, that new hope that whatever the future had in store for us... or not, we would be able to face it, together!

I hoped that this time away had had the same effect on him, that it had freed him, too.

I was not so sure about that, because I knew how difficult it had always been for him to say the important things, but I hoped that, like me, he had been offered the opportunity to unload his burden with someone who would listen and understand, like Cort, Terry or even Maximus who had also lived terrible moments. Or maybe, who knows, men can be so unpredictable sometimes, he might have simply let it slip out, after a binge, to one of the younger men?

You never know where wisdom and comfort may come from when you are down. You never know what life is going to throw to you next, or the way it's going to use to do so. "The ways of the Lord are inscrutable" as would say Cort. So are Life's ones.

But what I knew is that I needed to be with John more than ever now. Not to stick to him anymore like a rock in the sea of my insecurities, and let him carry all the weight of our chaotic lives. But to stand by his side, straight and proud, and walk with him, hand in hand, the trail of life that was left ahead of us.

I smiled at this image, always the same one, a bit ridiculous and too grandiose to express a very simple thing, but it did it for me. Life was good. I know, I might have said that a thousand of times these last months, probably without really believing it deep inside me. But this time was the right one. I felt it, I knew it.

This was a new start. For both of us. 

I was not sure I was going to tell John all the details about this trip, about Mike. I really wanted to be honest with him, not to keep anything from him, but... I had again that feeling that some things are better kept quiet in case they wouldn't be really understood and could hurt the one we love. I knew it wouldn't be the bravest choice, but I would have done anything to protect that new happiness that I knew was waiting for us.

We would see, I would deal with that later and do what would be best for him. For now, I was just eager to throw my arms around his neck and cover him with kisses.

The future would tell if I would follow or not wise Sheriff Biebe's famous advice... 

"What happens, what's said in that room..." 

... Or somewhere else...