After the first shock of her incredible discovery, the rational part of Clarity's mind tried to push all this away as being impossible. But then came a second shock: it was really happening to her. Again her mind fought to search for any other logical explanation, but, as it couldn't find any, shock overwhelmed her again. Realization of what was happening ran over her in waves, like those running over a beach during these sudden and violent Mediterranean storms.

But she was nowhere near Mediterranean Sea.

She was in Alaska. Mystery, Alaska.

She was in the same place as John's wife and children were. 

She was in a movie.

She was in John's movie. 

Without John. 

Clarity staggered and felt her legs give away under her. 

Deputy Betty Fisher, who was watching the woman's strange behaviour, rushed to her side and grabbed her arm to support her before she fell. 

"You come and sit down, Miss ... must be the shock the doctor told us you'd maybe have afterwards. Get that hot coffee down you now. You'll feel better in a while."

Clarity compliantly did what she was told. The phone rang, distracting the deputy's attention from her. It gave Clarity time to try and think about what had happened.

It couldn't be. It was NOT possible! This was just another nightmare! She was going to wake up! Tears were coming to her eyes again. She was on the verge of breaking down.

She took a deep breath, then another. Breaking down was not going to help. She tried to think more usefully. Confused thoughts and questions were rushing to her mind.

What was she doing here? How did it happen? How long would she have to stay? She had nothing to do in this place, not without John! And John was somewhere else, in another reality, in the hands of... of whom? Was he okay? Wasn't he hurt? What did they do to him? What for? Was he... still alive? She had no means to know. Maybe never will. Her only hope was that, if they had sent her here, maybe that meant that they knew who John was, so they wouldn't kill him. Oh, please, don't let them do any harm to him!

How could she possibly be here? She was not a movie character. Who had sent her here?

And then it sunk in. 

Only one person could have done that... SID! 

"But why?"

Why would he have done this to her? Did he hate her that much? What harm had she done to him? Was her fate now to live here forever? Without John? What an irony! And how amused SID must be!

"You said something? 'Why' what?" 

The deputy's voice brought her back to reality... well, what was now her reality. Betty was looking at her with concern. It seemed that she had said something aloud. All was confused in her mind. As she couldn't answer the deputy's question, she stayed silent. 

"You alright?"

"Yes... yes, I'm sorry."

"You are sorry for what?"

"I... I don't know."

Betty frowned and Clarity could read on her face that she was really doubting her sanity. Maybe she was right? She was doubting herself. The only thing that was keeping her from drowning into despair was the hope that this was not real. This could not be. It was just another nightmare ... yes, that's what it was - a nightmare! She had certainly just dozed off while John was driving them both to the airport in their rented car, and she was soon going to hear his soft voice waking her up with sweet, funny... or dirty words, depending on his mood.

"You sure you okay?" 

Clarity jumped; this was assuredly not John's voice. She turned her head, so the deputy couldn't see her eyes water with the tears that she was fighting once more.

"Yes..." She took another deep breath. "I'm just... lost, you know?"

"It's very understandable. You don't worry, it will come back. Your memory. It will certainly come back soon."  Betty put tentatively her hand on Clarity's shoulder in what she wished to be a comforting gesture. It was probably a little too briskly as it made her jump, but the rough life they were living in this merciless part of the world had taught them all not to pity too much anyone, and even less themselves.

Betty shook herself. "Okay now. Let's get something useful done. That was Michan on the phone, Deputy Michan. He has found a nice place for you. Somewhere warm and comfortable where you can stay until we can find someone who knows you and brings you back to your regular life."

Back to her regular life? If only she knew, thought Clarity a little bitterly. 

"Come on, put that warm coat on, you're going to freeze in those light clothes. It's a miracle you didn't already." Adding action to words, Betty wrapped a thick coat around the smaller woman's shoulders, as if she was her little sister.

"The 'officials' will see you later, or maybe tomorrow. They have been called out of town but should be back in a few hours." Betty pushed her outside as gently as she could, but firmly, muttering low enough so Clarity couldn't understand what she was saying. "I really wonder how you landed here, in the middle of ice fields, in these clothes... One thing is certain, you're not from around here. Besides that accent of yours, no one wears this kind of clothes down here, not even in summer!"

She shrugged; fancy clothes had never been her concern anyway. Clothes were made to keep her warm and comfortable, nothing else. 

A few hours later, Clarity was settled in a room of the "Sleeping Bear," a very welcoming boarding house. It was owned by Doreen and Marty Walker, a charming old couple, whose daughter Sylvie who was now Deputy Bobby Michan's wife.

After their six children had left them to live happily their own life and build their own families, the house had felt too big for the two of them. So they had opened it to welcome every now and then the few strangers that came in their little town or around: passing workers, hunters, fishermen, some tourists in summer... and a few regulars.

They didn't count on it to earn their living, but they already had all they needed, and they didn't need much. Marty had always been a hunting and fishing lover and, even if he didn't spend now as much time in the outdoors as he used to when he was younger, he still brought home enough to feed them and their guests. That, plus his retired deputy pension, was more than enough for the two of them. Doreen had been their town school teacher for a while, until they married, a long time ago, then she had spent the rest of her life raising his children.

So, when their son in law, Bobby Michan, had asked them if they could welcome for a while someone they had found unconscious in the snow and seemed lost, these good people had not hesitated a single moment.

Only one of the rooms was rented at the present time. By Brett Humps, a self-professed writer who actually seemed to be spending more time in the unique bar of the town than at his desk. He had been here for weeks and seemed to have money enough to stay all his life if he wanted to, without ever working. Some said that he was the son of a rich man from the East, hiding here after problems with the law; some others that he was trying to forget a heart pain, that's why he didn't seem to like people and was staying in the place where he had a minimum of civilization comforts without being pestered by too many people. The eternal clichés!

In fact, even if Mystery people were now used to see him around, nobody really knew who Brett Humps was. The little town's inhabitants were nice and welcoming people, but, even if you stayed here all your life, you would always remain a stranger in their mind, if you were not born here. And you could count on their fertile imagination to build you up a past if you have had the bad idea to keep your real one to yourself. Nature hates a vacuum? Mystery people too. Maybe it was to make it up for all that majestic and dangerous emptiness surrounding and, often, dominating them.

So, all the other rooms of the "Sleeping Bear" were available. No one ever came to Mystery after the first snow had fallen, if they could avoid it. 

There had been another regular before, a big guy, as strong as a grizzly, but as gentle as a caribou fawn. He had spent some time with Doreen and Marty when a tree had crashed his cabin a few years ago. The entire village had helped him to build it again. And he was almost sad to go back in his home, because Doreen has spoiled him rotten, giving him more attention, more affection... and more good food, in a few weeks than he had gotten during all his life from his own relatives.

Everyone in Mystery loved Tree Lane. And Doreen and Marty Walkers were no exceptions. Since then, he had called them Auntie and Uncle; the poor guy didn't have any family here. He still often came to visit them, bringing them some products from the woods where he was living and working, and sometimes even spent the night in his former room, appreciating the comfort of the place and the kindness of its hosts.

But all this was lost to Clarity for the moment, the charming place, the nice people, the comfortable little room. She was sitting on her bed, her look set on the dark window through which a few lights could be seen. She had no idea of the time, nor did she care about it.

Doctor Savage had just left a few minutes ago. He had come to check on her again once she was settled in her new temporary home, and had confirmed that she was in fine physical condition. There just seemed to be something wrong with her mind. She appeared to be amnesic, obviously looking for answers each time he had asked her a question, but not being able to word any, except her first name. He had given her some pills for headaches she would probably have frequently until she recovered her memory. Or rather, he had given them to Doreen, not trusting the young woman's uncertain brain.

Fortunately, Clarity hadn't noticed the worried look the doctor had given to Betty and the Walkers, who were waiting anxiously for his diagnosis. In fact, he was not sure at all that she could ever recover memory; she seemed to have been deeply shocked. Besides her lack of answers to his questions, she had hardly said a word, just a polite and barely audible "hello" with a heavy accent Doreen and Marty couldn't recognize, but the doctor said sounded like French, but not Canadian French, probably European. Since then, she had said nothing, seeming closed to the world, so they were almost whispering to each other in her presence as if to respect her silence. The Doctor had ordered that she have rest. A lot of rest.

They had all left the room, looking at her with sorry looks, and Doreen had tried to tell her that she would be back with her dinner, calling her softly by her first name, Claire, as it seemed to be the only thing she remembered. She had gotten no reaction back from the young woman, who was sat on her bed, her dark eyes looking blankly in front of her, as if lost in another world.

And lost she was. This world was not hers. In spite of all these people's kindness that she could feel without really being aware of it, Clarity was mainly overwhelmed with loneliness. Loneliness such as she had never felt before in her life. Even when John was gone to Mystery last year. She was still in their home then, surrounded by their friends, and wishing for him to come back to her. But this time...

These nice people obviously thought she was amnesic. She almost wished she really was. 

She had nothing left now but her memories. Memories of a lost happiness, of a lost life. And her troubled mind was trying both to cling to them because it was where John and their friends were, and escape from the pain they were causing her right now, precisely because what was her present and her future had suddenly vanished to become nothing else but memories. The only thing she was sure about was that she would have done anything to be sent back at once to where she belonged, to whom she belonged.

But she had the nagging feeling that this was not going to be a short trip, like had been John's one. SID wasn't here to guide her... this could very well be a permanent stay.

She settled down on the cosy bed and, hoping that it would relieve her tired mind and body from the weight that had been chocking her since she had woken up in that cell, she simply gave up the fight against all those conflicting emotions she had been trying to keep in control. She just stopped thinking and let tears get out at last, first silently, then as it was overwhelming her, in louder sobs.

She refused as nicely as she could, through the door of the room, without even getting up from the bed, the dinner that Doreen had brought back to her. Then she cried herself to sleep.

The kind woman had not insisted, thinking that the poor girl needed more rest than food. But, to reassure herself, she called Doctor Savage who told her that it was a normal reaction, confirming her that the young woman needed rest more than anything else at the present time. But he asked Doreen to keep an eye on her and tell him if she still didn't want to eat on the next day. She would need food to get her strength back.

Doreen answered that her food may not be French cuisine, but it sure was "the best damn nourishing food the little mademoiselle would have ever eaten... even if she had to push it down her throat."

The doctor laughed, knowing very well that she was too gentle to ever do that, but what was true is that she would find a way to make her eat. No one could resist Doreen.

Although Henry Savage couldn't see her, a big smile lightened the sweet old woman's face while hearing his so particular laugh. She liked his laugh. Always had. It's true that she also always had had a secret crush on the handsome doctor. Like his best friend, Walter Burns, he had such a class! They had both been the most chased bachelors in town for years... oh she was not in the race, being older than them and already happily married to her Marty! But lucky Joanne Heinz had finally managed to lay her hands on Walter. What a woman she was then! Must be in the family's blood.

Doreen smiled again while thinking about how, much later, Joanne's feisty young niece, Sarah, had become famous in Mystery during a few weeks, for having tried to force some sense and respect into the best - or worst, depending on the point of view - womanizer in Mystery and its surroundings, Matt Marden, better known then under the nickname of Skank, by means of a snow shovel. It may have worked after all, with some delay, because today, Matt was the loving and caring father of an honourable family. It's true that the poor boy had had a difficult childhood and owed a lot to John Biebe for his turning to respectable life. In many ways.

Walter Burns had become Mystery's Judge, while Henry Savage became its doctor, seeming to have dedicated his life to his profession. He spent hours, days and nights, on the snowy and icy roads to go take care of each more or less serious boo boo or sickness, miles around. He never hesitated to face any kind of weather when he was called, even if it was, at the end, only to reassure some anguished family mother, or old isolated trapper. Of course, he was also able to admit when something was past his knowledge and did not hesitate either to ask the sheriff to call a helicopter and send his patient to the nearest hospital, in Juneau.

When he hung up after his conversation with Doreen Walker, Henry Savage thought with a smile that there was no better place for the amnesic woman to be than in Doreen's house. She was like a mother to all her guests, whether they stayed one night or several months. He trusted her to take good care of her and make her have the rest and food she needed, like she had done successfully with her six children... and her husband, maybe it was the reason why Marty was spending so much time outdoor when he was younger? He laughed and went back to his files.

In the meantime, Doreen tiptoed to the young woman's room one more time and listened through the door, like she had done many times already. She knew Doc Savage counted on her to watch over her, and watch she did. Each time, she had heard her cry softly. This time, she didn't hear anything anymore.  She opened silently the door, avoiding it to creak. Having spent all her life in this house where she was born, had married her Marty and raised their children, she knew each of its little tricks.

She watched for a while the young woman fast asleep, hunched in an almost foetal position on the bed. Poor girl, her face still wore the marks of drying tears. But, at least she was sleeping now. She covered her slowly with the big warm quilt she had made and stuffed herself with down she got from eiders ducks her dear Marty used to bring her back from his hunting trips... to the pond.

On the next morning, after a dreamless and resting night, Clarity woke up early; she was surprisingly feeling rather fine on that new day. Before even opening her eyes, she instinctively extended an arm to feel the warmth and comfortable presence of the strong body that was usually lying by her side each night... when he was not already wrapped around her.

It's when her hand met only cold and emptiness that she remembered suddenly where she was. And suddenly she didn't feel fine at all. She wished she could hide under the thick quilt until that nightmare ended.

When she felt she was going to cry again, she kicked herself, virtually, and decided that, if she was going to stay here for a while, she'd better try and make it as bearable as possible, for her, but also for those people who were being so kind to her. Whether she was here for a while... or forever...

For. Ever. 

No, no, said a little voice inside her mind, don't let this get at you again... don't think about it. If it's just one of SID's tricks, he might end this and bring you back anytime, as he did with John.

John... 

NO! Don't think about John either now, the little inner voice insisted. Unsuccessfully. 

Then, at least, think positive! 

She tried. 

Or tried to try. 

Or rather pretended to try.

You've always wanted to visit Alaska, started the inner voice.

"I wanted to visit John's state," she answered out loud. 

It's a beautiful state. 

"It's cold."

But look outside, at those amazing landscapes!

"Yes, amazing... and still cold," she muttered stubbornly. 

Come on, admit it, each time you've watched that movie, you wished you could visit Mystery and get to know its inhabitants.  

"Only with John." 

It's a hockey town, you like hockey don't you? 

"Because John loves it."

You're really not helping! I give up! 

It was the moment that her body chose to betray her, and her stomach gurgled shamelessly, reminding her noisily that it had had nothing to eat for a while now. She couldn't remember since when she had had anything down her, except Betty's cup of coffee. If she wanted to face this ordeal that was imposed on her, for whichever reason, and come back to John in good shape, she had to feed herself.

She smiled sadly at the thought of how she would have enjoyed teasing him by telling him that, if he were in her shoes, he would certainly not have forgotten any meal, as distraught as he could be! She could very clearly imagine him rolling his eyes.

She opened the door and her nose was immediately tickled by very pleasant smells that had her impatient stomach growl even louder: coffee, of course, and various others she couldn't recognize for sure, but that almost made her drool.

A silly thought came to her mind again: was someone's appetite contagious when you've been living with him for a long time? She hoped not, or she would certainly not be able to keep her thin figure anymore... unless that someone "sacrificed" himself, as he would say, to burn with her those extra calories on the most pleasurable way they both knew.

A tear, but also a smile this time, accompanied this thought. 

For the second time today, she was able to smile when thinking about John. It surprised her, and she hoped it meant that her instinct felt that she was going to see him again soon. She wanted to believe in that. She absolutely needed to believe it. Desperately. 

The tantalizing smells guided Clarity to the kitchen where she was greeted by Doreen's friendly smile, even if the older woman was surprised to see her up so early and in an apparently good mood. Doreen's smile grew even broader when she asked her if she was hungry and got a rather eager nod from the young woman, along with a shy smile.

"I... it's... it's embarrassing to say, but... I... I have no money for the room and... all this...," Clarity said, indicating the table covered with food. "But... I still have two hands and... if you can find any use for them... and if I can still remember how to use them myself...," she said with a tentative smile, "... I can work for it."

"Tut tut tut! I don't want to hear anything about that, young lady! The room was empty anyway and I'm always cooking too much for us. So just sit down, sweetie, and put your pretty mouth to a better use than to say silly things. This food must disappear, you hear me? Doctor's orders."

To Doreen's great pleasure, Clarity wolfed down the omelette and French toast she had made especially for her, so she could feel more at home. That is if Doctor Savage was right and she was really French... a tourist coming from this faraway country to live a thrilling experience in the iced wild vastness? No chance, her clothes were certainly not those of an adventurer!

Of course, the good woman had no idea that French toast was not specifically French... no more than French beans, French fries, French windows, or French kisses, to name a few. In fact, from her earlier teaching days, Doreen knew where France was on a world map, but it was about all she remembered about it. Except a few images of the illumination of Eiffel Tower they had seen on TV when celebrations for year 2000 all around the world were showed in the news.

After a hearty breakfast, Clarity thanked her host who shooed her gently but firmly out of the kitchen before she could even try to clear away her own plate, and came back to her room.

Her mind was clearer now that she was rested and fed, and Clarity intended to do something with the time she was going to have to spend here. She had not been given any choice in this, but she still had the choice to try and make of it an interesting experience, hoping it would be a short one. There were many people she would like to meet, and many places she would like to see.

Besides, she was aware that, as nice and comfortably arranged as it was, it was not good for her to stay alone too long in that little room where she had nothing to do but think... and thinking too much was the last thing she needed right now. She knew that the unexpected optimism she was feeling this morning wouldn't be long to fade away if she didn't keep herself occupied.

She needed fresh air. What about starting with a little tour of the town? She looked through the window and saw a rink. Her heart tightened again.

Was it where they used to gather on the weekends? 

John's family. 

Where they used to practice? Where they played the Saturday Game? 

John's team. 

No, she remembered from the movie that it was a real iced pond outside of the town. This one must be the one they had made to face... and almost beat the New York Rangers.

Here we go again! In spite of her efforts not to think too much about him, John was back forcefully, painfully in her mind, in her heart. Did she really think she could fool herself very long? She knew that he had, in fact, never left her thoughts and never would, as long as she would have even the slightest breath of life left in her body.

Was there only anything in this town that wouldn't remind her John? Of course not! She had seen his movie again and again, and was never tired of it. He used to tease her about this, saying that he soon was going to think that she was more in love with that guy in the movie than real him in the flesh. And she used to answer back that he was not a good sport, just trying to spoil her fantasy.

She had sometimes wished that they could come back to Mystery together so he would show her his town, these places, these people who had meant so much to him, who had made of him who he was now.

She knew it was not possible. 

She thought it was not possible. 

But now, she was here.

Without him. 

He was somewhere else. 

Without her.

Here, where she was, he was dead, a few years ago. 

And she didn't even have any right to mourn him.

Here, even his memory belonged to another one. 

Something he had said a few weeks ago at the pub, and that had moved her deeply came suddenly back to her: 

"In the end, no one dies for love, Clarity...not in the real world... Except me. I would die if I lost you now... this time, I don't have any new starts left in me, girl..."

And now they had been torn apart again! Once more, and maybe forever this time? She wouldn't have the strength to live without him either. Maybe it was her who was going to die for love...

"SID, why did you do this to us? I haven't asked you anything this time. I haven't even annoyed you... or, if I did, I swear it was not on purpose. What is going to happen to John? Please don't let anyone hurt him! I beg you ... Speak to me, SID! Please! Tell me this is just another of your tricks and that you're not going to leave me here forever."

Clarity's voice broke. 

"Oh SID! Can't you even come and help me, guide me, explain me what I am here for, like you did with John? And then get me back to him. Please."

She realized that she was almost praying to him like a God. And the devil he was would certainly enjoy that immensely if he could hear her. 

Though, a part of her still wanted to believe in him. A part of her still hoped that he would come out of nowhere, as he used to do at the less expected moment, in his perfectly cut blue suit, with his hair perfectly combed, and his annoying sometimes, but however beautiful, smile. She wished it so strongly that she even thought she could hear him whisper with his sweetest voice that he was here for his "French love dove," as he called her sometimes - she always found it so ironical - and promise her that she would be with John again soon.

It felt so real that she looked around her. 

But no, the room was empty. 

And silent. 

No SID. 

It was only her own desire that had built that up. 

She really had to get outside, or she would soon become really crazy. If she was not already. 

She felt the craving to go to John's house... well, what used to be his house, what was probably still his family's one. She felt irresistibly attracted to it. To them. His family. As if they were also hers. The only family she had here, the only one she had left.

But there were several problems. And not small ones. 

First, she didn't know where it was. She thought she remembered from the movie that the Biebes' house was outside the town, there were woods around... should be in kind of a glade or something.

If it was far, she had no mean of transport to go there. She doubted she could call any sled cab. Even if it existed, how would she pay for the transportation? With her nicest 'amnesic French woman's smile,' the new curio in town... or soon to be? She winced at her own silliness.

More seriously, how could she possibly ask someone where was the Biebes' house? She was precisely supposed to be amnesic, meaning not supposed to remember anything, even less something she could not know, about someone she should have never met, in a place where she had never been before. Did that make any sense?

Oh wait, it was probably not even anymore the Biebes' house but the... how was Skank's name again? Zut, she couldn't remember it! Marteen? Whatever was his name, it was his family now. It made her sad to think that John's family, this family he loved so much, was now someone else's family. But, at the same time, she remembered his face when he had told her how much he was relieved to know that his family was not alone anymore, that they were in good hands now. He looked so at peace... happy, yes, that's the word. He was happy.

And even if she ever found the means to get there, managed to find the house... what could she tell them? 

"Hello Donna, hello kids! You don't know me, and I've never put a foot in Alaska, but I know you very well. Don't ask me how, I'm amnesic. But I can tell you, even if I shouldn't, that your husband, your father, is not dead at all. He's fine... well, he was, the last time I've seen him... in another life. Don't ask me why, I'm amnesic. Oh, by the way, just a tiny detail... he's my husband now, and I love him to death. Bye bye, I got to go... Don't ask me where.... I'm amnesic."

How cruel was this? And... how silly? 

Okay, this time, she was scaring herself... all this was probably getting to her brain and she was, without any doubt, certifiable now. Ready to move to Nash's movie and keep company to his unfortunate mates in that terrifying mental hospital. 

Clarity shook her head. She was not funny. None of this was funny! All she wanted was to go back home, and carry on their regular life, from where it had suddenly been interrupted, with the man she loved, and their friends.

Their friends! Maximus! They must have arrived to France by now! Could they have found John, at least? And rescued him? If only she could know that he was safe now... that they all were!

But she couldn't.

To try and keep under control all these unpleasant feelings that threatened to overwhelm her again: sadness, worry, frustration, anger, fear... she stepped closer to the window and forced herself to look once more at the awesome landscapes, beautiful and so peaceful.

Would she ever find peace here, even without... 

Her eyes were attracted again by the shining shape of the rink, surrounded by houses. It oddly made her think about those typical squares in villages from South of France, around which the main events of the village life often took place.

It was a sign for her to move. It's where she was going to head right now. The rink. Maybe she could see John's family there? His boys? Donna? The new addition to the family John had told her about... that little girl and her father, Skank. Of course she would not talk to them... but she would like so much to see them!

She also thought for a while about going to the cemetery to visit John's grave. But would she be strong enough to face it now? Would this be a way for her to feel closer to him... or to feel even more deeply his absence? Maybe it was too early for that.

She decided to go and see the early skaters already practicing, or just enjoying the soothing sight of the rink.

Doreen was a bit worried about letting her go out but, when she told her she was going to the rink, she thought that it could do her only good to breathe some fresh air. And being on her own might help her to remember something, yes? Besides, she could still watch her from the window of her kitchen, in case she would need help, the rink being rather close to their house.

But she didn't let her leave before she had her swaddled into Marty's too big coat, having given back the other coat to its owner. Marty was already dozing in the living room, in front of a game on TV, a hockey game of course, so he didn't need it yet. 

The air of Mystery, cool but pure and invigorating, made immediately Clarity feel better. She couldn't help thinking about Luberon and how warm the weather still was there. She had always hated cold. And John didn't like much warmth. Yet, it was not in Alaska that he had chosen to buy their house. But in South of France. For her.

And he was stuck there. While she was stuck here. How fair was this?

She reacquainted herself with the feeling of walking in fresh, virgin white snow, listening to that so particular sound of it crunching under her feet that were clad in Doreen's snow boots, also too big for her in spite of the three layers of socks the older woman had gently forced her to wear. It reminded her of her childhood, when she had to walk to school in the snow, on early winter mornings; that insouciant time of her life when the kid she was managed to make fun out of everything.

Arriving near the rink, she precisely saw a few kids already fighting skilfully around a puck, probably before going to school (unless it was a day off? She had no idea of the time). It made her smile. This really was a hockey town! In other circumstances, she was sure she could have liked this town very much.

There was just something... someone very important missing.  

She noticed a petite, older woman watching attentively the skaters, seated on a sort of portable stool, her bag full of groceries she obviously had just gotten from Gagney Grocers at her feet. Her face and figure looked familiar to Clarity. It took her a while but she finally recognized Mirabelle Houle, the old lady who had said to Charles Danner, during the town meeting before the game against the New York Rangers, that she had "always thought he was a bit of a prick." Of course, being already partial to John then, Clarity could only agree with her.

So, once she had identified her, she almost waved at her, but remembered just in time that she couldn't do that. She might feel like she knew some inhabitants of Mystery, because they were part of the movie, but she should not forget that they didn't know her. She had to be cautious about that.

"Miss?" It was almost a whisper. She didn't hear it at first, absorbed in the sight of the various people skating now on the rink, couples, families, teenagers, even older people. They looked so happy. Happy as John was when he was with his family or his team here. There was something soothing in this sight, and in this thought.

A young boy fell right in front of her. She held her hand out to help him to get up. The boy blushed, ashamed to have fallen in front of a young woman, and one he had never seen before. She smiled at him. He smiled back tentatively, his face now almost crimson and skated away in a hurry. But he was still looking back shyly, and almost bumped into other skaters without even noticing it. Clarity laughed. It was the first time she laughed since... since...

"Ahem... miss!" This time, fingers touched hesitantly her shoulder. 

She turned, a big smile still on her face. 

"Yes?" 

She then found herself facing Betty accompanied with three tall men... and one of them... 

The eyes she met in that face were as wide open as hers then. 

OH

MON

DIEU!

New travels fast in a small town, even more so in an isolated settlement like Mystery, Alaska. To combat the fact that for many months of the year nothing much got through and even less happened within the city limits, any semblance of news was treated with the proper respect it deserved, that is - exaggerated, speculated upon and completely blown out of proportion in seconds. When the precious gift of 'A Real Event' actually fell upon their doorsteps, the effect was exponentially much greater.

So far that morning, in the time it had taken Sheriff Biebe to clear the driveway, drop the boys off at school, stop off for a take-out coffee and fill his jeep with gas, he had been variously told that a female alien had wandered into Mystery, the French had come back to claim Canada and turned the wrong way, Brigitte Bardot -or someone like her -was making a movie in the area about someone who lost her memory and that a beautiful foreign girl had been found wandering alone scantily clad or possibly even naked. The latter was probably the closest to the truth. He doubted the naked bit or she would have frozen to death in minutes and John suspected when he finally met up with the real life lady in question she would probably be no beauty, most likely having more facial hair than he did  and carrying substantially more weight.

Let's face it, what were the chances of some pin up washing up in the middle of the nowhere affectionately called Mystery that they called home?

That's when John drove past the ice rink on his way to the office and caught sight of a vision of loveliness gazing mournfully out over the ice, a sharp gust of December wind ruffling up her long dark hair.

Now, John Biebe was a normal man with a healthy regard for a pretty face, even if he was a very happily married man. Like most guys, checking out the girls from the respectable distance of his driver's seat was as natural as breathing. His eye would scan the pathways and even with the added padding and camouflage of the necessary all-weather gear required in the region, he was skilled in the mental processes of removing the layers of wool and fleece and waterproofs with his eyes to assess the goods below.

All this in the blink of an eye without even appearing to have noticed the woman. It's a male thing.

The only problem in this little recreational pursuit of the good men of Mystery was the dearth of candidates for the most part. The majority of the women he passed on an average morning in Mystery were not going to rock the boat of a man who had a wife like Donna Biebe at home. He shuddered at the thought, for example, of what might lie beneath Miss Houle's combinations for one.

On the rare occasion, however, when he did spy a tasty morsel, John was usually able to enjoy his little fantasy moment with nothing more visible to show for his prurience than a tiny smile playing on his lips, a little nod of his head and a mental note to try and get home earlier tonight, give Donna a hand with the boys, keep his fingers crossed it wasn't that time of the month and that baby Polly would suddenly decide to sleep through tonight..

That was what made his reaction this particular morning all the more astonishing. He saw the woman, and in an instant his feet had hit the brakes- not a wise idea in the conditions. Fortunately the road had just been well gritted or he could have found himself going into a spin. A vehicular spin, that is. He was most definitely in one of the other sort already.

Later, when he thought about it, he couldn't for the life of him work out exactly why the sight of this poor girl had made such an impression on him. Sure, she was a beauty. There was no mistaking that, even in the odd ensemble of clothes someone had found for her. But he wasn't so desperate that a good looking woman would be enough to have him chomping at the bit and drooling. God's sakes, he was married to Donna! How could a man need anything other than a woman like Donna?

But the moment he had seen this woman, it felt like he already knew her inside and out - and had done for a very long time. He had that same sort of visceral feeling that came to him on odd moments when he caught sight of Donna and realised just how much he loved her. Those moments when she would just look up at him and smile, or he would see her across a crowded room or she would be rocking one of his sons to sleep and a sharp jolt of emotion would radiate through him with the extent of his connection to her, and his pride in the fact she was his wife.

That was how a glance from a passing car had felt to him from a woman he knew he had never met before but still felt drawn to in some inexplicable way.

He almost opened the door, jumped down from his wagon, crunched though the snow and went right on up to her. But good sense prevailed. What would she think if he just came lumbering up at her like a grizzly in full charge? The poor woman was probably already half scared out of her wits without him making it worse. So he gave her once last lingering look, started up the engine and made his way to the police station.

Outside he noticed two men standing by their cars chatting to Betty as she made her way into the office. He guessed the mysterious French lady was the subject for discussion and a sudden idea came to him. Maybe it was time for the unfortunate girl to get an official town welcome.

"Hiya there, fellas...and Betty...what's up? You boys plotting to drop me again?" John grinned with a hearty slap on the backs for the mayor and Judge Burns.

"Hello yourself, John. We were just asking Betty about this young thing that's turned up. Got the town in a spin with rumors. Thought maybe your office could straighten out a few things..." Scott said, as if there was a burning official need to know all about this latest mystery in Mystery.

"I told them she's got amnesia and is staying at the Walker's. Doc Savage's got her monitored...it's all under control, Sheriff..." Betty broke in.

"That so? Since when they made you sheriff and town crier all rolled into one?" John cautioned her a little too sharply. She looked hurt. The other two men were surprised. It wasn't like John to treat his people like that in public.

Biebe didn't even quite know himself why he had bitten back so hard. Nothing stayed a secret in the sheriff's office for long, he knew that - it was one of the endearing qualities of a town like Mystery that the concept of confidential meant you just told one person at a time. But he had felt piqued that these guys already knew about the new woman, even before he did officially. Now why should that bother him? "Looks like you need to finish your coffee before you start work, John...Donna kick you out the wrong side this morning?" Walter Burns retorted.

John held up his hands. "I was just going to suggest we invite her back to the station and maybe the three of us give her an official welcome. She must be feeling pretty low and confused. You two got a spare half hour?"

The two men, as eager as the rest of the town to meet the lady, suddenly found themselves free all morning. Betty, eager to retain her position as the woman's friend and mentor butted in, saving John having to indicate that he already knew were she was.

"I believe she's taking a walk round the pond. We could go and meet her there..."

Which is why shortly afterwards, just as Clarity was smiling across at the little boy on the ice, a voice called over to her and disturbed her moment of tranquility profoundly...

"Miss...? Ahem...miss?"

They hadn't been lying when they had said she was beautiful. John Biebe could hardly keep his jaw closed as the woman turned to the sound of the voices, the smile still lingering on her lips. Any inappropriate feelings he had had from a distance were magnified up this close. He felt like he had been hit by a puck out on the ice in the Saturday game. He could still hear the voices of his companions making their introductions but they seemed far away, drifting somewhere above his consciousness. All he could see was this beautiful woman as if he and she were the only two people around.

"..And this is the sheriff...you not going to say hello, John?" Walter Burns asked, raising an eyebrow.

His voice woke the sheriff from his dream-like state with a jerk; John wondered exactly what he had missed. Holding out his hand, he took her tiny one in his large mitt, made even bigger by the thick gloves he was wearing, pumping rather clumsily on it longer than he needed to, merely to give him some breathing space. "...John Biebe...the sheriff...pleased to meet you, Ma'am...I didn't catch your name..."

The girl stared at him in a way that made him feel uncomfortable. He wondered if she was scared of him or something. Maybe it was his beard and long hair? Or was he rough and uncouth to a woman like her used to the urbane French men back in Paris? Then he wondered if she could speak English. Maybe she didn't know what he was saying?

"You speak English? Parlez-vous anglais? Mon nom est Biebe...John Biebe...Jean...kind of...BEEBEE...votre nom, s'il vous plait? Jeez...I was never much good at French..."

"She speaks English, John..." Betty nudged him.

"Then why isn't she answering me?" John whispered.

"Maybe 'cos you're squeezing her hand so damn tight she can't catch her breath?" Betty muttered back.

John let her hand fall as if he had been burned.

"What's your name, honey?" Scott Pitcher tried.

Finally the girl seemed to re-gain the use of her tongue. "Claire..."

"Claire? That it, sweetheart? No second name?" The mayor urged her gently.

She looked across at the sheriff and appeared almost to fill up with tears. "Je ne sais pas...I don't know...I don't remember..." she gasped.

The three men exchanged glances. "Look here, Miss Claire....don't worry about a thing. It will all come back to you.  I got knocked out cold when Tree fell on me one time on the ice, and I couldn't even remember my name...you sure Tree didn't fall on you?" John tried for a gentle joke.

The woman did not look any happier. "A tree fell on me?"

"No, Tree's a guy...he's very tall...it's a long story...I was just saying, I nearly lost my wits that time, but they soon came back..." John smiled.

"You sure about that, John?" Walter Burns added laconically, amused by Biebe's obvious attraction to the young lady that was leaving him tongue-tied and making a damn fool of himself... "Let's take you back to the station, sit you down with a strong hot mug of coffee and we can have a good talk. I'll call my wife....how about we all call our wives and get them to come over and join us? They'll help you feel better...just relax and don't try to do too much too fast..."

The judge held his arm out and escorted 'Claire' back to his car. Mayor Pitcher grabbed a car blanket from his and tucked it round her legs. John brought up the rear with Betty. "Wonder if you'd all be so concerned if she looked like a walrus?" Betty asked. "I've never seen Walter Burns move that fast in my life...looks like he still has an eye for a pretty face...." She laughed as she climbed into John's wagon.

"What you going on about, Betty? What's her face got to do with anything? I can't say I even noticed myself..."

She burst out laughing. "Not much, you didn't. You could hardly keep your tongue in your mouth...men!"

John grunted and started up the car, following the Judge back to the station. This hadn't gone quite as he had planned. Who appointed Burns and Pitcher as the social committee in this town? If Missing Persons were his business, then so were ones who were found too...

While driving to the station, Walter Burns tried to talk with the woman, but he soon realized that she was not listening, or at least, not hearing him, obviously lost in her thoughts. He wondered what kind of thoughts could be hidden in the mind of an amnesic woman. A little smile came to his lips while thinking that he could already hardly fathom what was in his wife or daughter's minds! Sometimes, he almost wished they could be amnesic, just for a moment.

The poor foreign girl had obviously been impressed by the three of them, which could be very understandable. Three tall men representing the law and order in town, walking on her while she was lost, alone and without memory, in a place she obviously didn't belong to; she had all reasons to be impressed. He smiled again at the thought that she had seemed particularly impressed by the sheriff... who, on his side, had also showed a rather atypical reaction.

Like everyone, Walter Burns was eager to know the mysterious girl's story. But his practical mind knew that, nowadays, even in a town such as Mystery, they had all the means to find out an explanation sooner or later. She was certainly reported missing somewhere. John Biebe was a good sheriff and the judge had no doubt that he was going to give this case all the attention it needed, as usually... maybe even more. In the meantime, their duty was to keep her comfortable and reassure her.

Before he had time to think more about it, the station was in sight. 

Clarity had been impressed indeed by the three men... still was by Judge Burns, even if they were all being very gentle with her. But she was mainly trying to digest that other incredible shock she had just received.

John was here. 

He was still in his movie... or another John was. 

So... what Sid had showed John last year when he had sent him back to Mystery was not true? John was not dead after his movie? 

Unless...? 

Another thought much more disturbing came to her mind. What if... what if her John was dead in their real life... or what she thought was real? Maybe they had killed him, there in Luberon... and he was back in his movie?

She suddenly remembered Bud and Hando, when they had disappeared from the pub, months ago, and had come back some times later. They seemed to be arriving straight from their respective movie and didn't remember anything about their former pub life.

Was it what was happening to her John...? Could it work both ways? Was he gone from the Pub world... back in this movie one... and had forgotten everything about there... about her?

But what was she doing here, then? It didn't make any sense. 

When she had woken in this movie world, without John, she thought that nothing worse could happen to her. 

She was wrong. 

Being in this movie, with a John who didn't know her anymore, who had even never known her... now, that was worse. 

She didn't want to think about that any longer, that was making her crazy. She preferred to cling to the idea that Sid was going to send her back to her reality and to her John at any moment... or, even simpler that she was just going to wake up soon.  She decided that, in the meantime, she couldn't afford having negative thoughts; they certainly wouldn't help. She was going to live one hour after the other, see what was going to happen next, and what she could do with it.

Clarity tried to only focus on what was going to happen next. So she was going to meet the Judge and the Mayor's wives? Okay, why not. She just hoped that they would do themselves all the "good talk" that Judge Burns had mentioned, because she had no intention to say anything. What could she say anyway that would do any good to these nice people... and to her?

The two notables' wives, from the few she remembered from the movie, shouldn't be a problem. They looked friendly, like their husbands and, although Clarity had to concentrate on sticking to her role of amnesic lost woman, which was not so far from her real state, she thought she could cope with that encounter. 

But meeting John's... the sheriff's wife... Donna... Donna Biebe... that would be something else. Clarity didn't know if she was ready for that yet. She had admitted from the beginning of their relationship that there would always be room in John's heart for Donna and his kids. She loved him even more for that. She had often imagined that Donna and she could have been friends if they had ever been able to meet.

That was before... when John was hers and loved her. 

But now... to watch them together, as husband and wife, to witness, as a mere stranger, those little endearments she knew so well but aimed at someone else, after having lost everything herself, after having lost him... she frankly was not sure she could have such an open mind.

So she took the decision, for everyone's sake, to stay as far away from them as she could, even if... or rather, precisely because she still felt irresistibly attracted to John, to this John she had no right to love in that other world. Of course she knew that the feelings would not disappear that easily; you can hide your feelings, but you can't force yourself not to feel them.

But, if she was going to go back to her own John someday, she had to try and not make any trouble in this movie world and in these good people's lives.

Now, if she was to stay here forever... but tomorrow is another day. 

Mary Jane Pitcher and Joanne Burns arrived not very long after their husbands had called them. Donna Biebe would come later. She had first to drop the boys at Doreen and Marty Walker's, who were always eager to baby-sit them when they were not too busy.

Walter Burns was right. The presence of the two very different but empathetic women seemed indeed to help the foreign woman to relax a little.

At the beginning, although they didn't want to rush her, they asked her a few questions about herself, thinking that it could help her to remember anything. But, as they couldn't get any answer from her other than polite and almost whispered "I don't know," they soon slowed down the questions and segued finally into talk about their town and themselves.

While listening to them with much and sincere interest, Clarity couldn't help looking at John... Sheriff Biebe, each time the group's attention was not on her anymore.

She had to stop thinking about him as John. This was not her John, this man here was just... should just be to her: "Sheriff Biebe." 

Each time she tried to look furtively at him, she could see his look on her. It was an odd look. Her troubled mind didn't manage to read it. Maybe he didn't like her... or worse, felt pity for her? She hoped not. Seeing pity in these eyes where she had once seen love would be more than she could bear.

Then Donna arrived and things got worse for Clarity. 

Worse because Donna was exactly as she thought she was, one of the most delicious women she knew. She was, like her friends, Mary Jane and Joanne, warm and welcoming, trying to make her feel at ease among them.

And Clarity immediately, liked Donna for the good and beautiful person she was.

And, at the same time, Clarity viscerally disliked Donna for the effect she had on John as soon as she arrived in the room. 

But it was nothing compared to the self-disgust she was also feeling. She wished she could have been a better person and enjoyed seeing John being simply happy with Donna, as he had always meant to be. But, instead of that, the loving look John had for his wife as soon as he saw her, hurt Clarity. She felt hurt to witness the smiles that brightened their faces when Donna walked to John's desk while he stood up and held his arms to welcome her. But somehow she felt less than hurt to see the kiss they exchanged right here and now, in front of them all. It was beautiful, after almost twenty years of marriage.

But it hit the lonely woman straight in the guts. 

From that moment on, as long as the conversation lasted, John never looked again at Clarity, almost avoiding talking directly to her. It was clear to her that John had forgotten everything about her from the moment Donna had stepped into the office. He had eyes only for her, Donna, his wife.

Which answered all the questions that Clarity had been asking herself since she had met and fallen in love with John Biebe, the very image of the family man.

And which also confirmed to her that she had to stay away from the Biebe family as much as she could.

If she could. 

When Donna had arrived in John's office, it hadn't taken her long to notice the funny behaviour of Scott Pitcher, and even of the usually rather guarded Walter Burns, toward that poor lost foreign woman. It hadn't surprised her any more than it had really surprised their own wives. Men would always be men, particularly in the presence of a new attractive woman.

And, as women would always be women, the first thing Marie Jane and Joanne had unconsciously done when entering the office, was to compare mentally themselves to that woman, to see what she could have that they didn't.

But not Donna. She had never had that kind of reaction. Of course, she had always paid attention to her appearance, but not too much. She was not worried about it, as long as she could see, each time she looked into John's eyes, how beautiful she was to him. Since they had been married, it had never failed.

And today was no exception. 

But, after a while, what surprised Donna was her own husband's behaviour. She knew him, and she knew that, although he had never ever given her any reason to be worried, he was never reluctant either, like all men, to check discreetly a good looking woman, even in her presence, thinking that she wouldn't notice it. Men are so naïve! But she didn't mind, because it's always her that his best smiles, the ones that counted, were aimed at, and she loved the effect it had on him later, when they were alone together, at last.

But this time was different. This still young woman could have attracted John's attention, she normally should have. But Donna noticed that he never looked at her. At all. At the opposite, he seemed to be avoiding the woman, and was focused on her, Donna. That should have been flattering, but, she didn't know why, it was starting to rather trouble her instead.

Donna knew each of her husband's looks... and these ones, as innocent as they tried to be, were guilty ones. 

Betty had been intrigued by the sheriff's odd behaviour from the first moment he had met this woman, and by the reaction of that same woman when she had seen him for the first time. She had been observing them both discreetly since then, not missing what was happening in that room, particularly since Donna had stepped in.

She didn't know what it was but she was sure that something was going on in there, and her instinct had seldom betrayed her.  

"...So, John, what do you make of Mademoiselle Claire, huh?" Donna asked as he kicked the snow off his boots at the door, prised them off and loped in his sock feet into the back kitchen later that evening. He was tired, hungry and cold and the smell of stew wafting from the pan on the stove was calling to him. Not much else was probably going to get through until he had warmed up and been fed.

"Huh?" he answered vaguely and went over to kiss the baby's little curly head as she kicked away merrily in her high chair. The boys were at the table, heads bent over homework, all except James who was lying on the rug in his pajamas, playing sleepily with a few cars.

"Jeez, John, did you even hear what I said?"

"What's for supper?" John peered over Michael's shoulder and took a look at his Math. It was that new stuff. He wasn't sure he could offer anything helpful so he just said. "Hey, good man...!" Michael grinned up and John ruffled up his hair. Those boys were getting bigger everyday.

"Come on, you two...Dad's home. He wants to eat...go help Mommy and get a bath..."

"Aw, Mom....I got two more questions...!" Michael complained.

"They'd have been done hours ago if you and your brother hadn't been watching cartoons since you got home! Move to the other side at least. Let Dad sit down...he's going to be a bear if I don't feed him..." Donna rolled her eyes and the boys giggled as John made bear noises and grabbed her round the waist. She smacked his hands away playfully.

"You want to eat or fool around...?" she asked with a hand on her hip and her eyes dancing.

John gave her a smoldering look. "Wouldn't mind both...but maybe just food first, else I'm done for..." He laughed at himself. There'd been a time when she'd have already been on her back on the bed by now and the dinner could go burn for all he'd cared. But that was when he had come home to a quiet house and there hadn't been four kiddies sitting around as an audience. He'd also been a younger man. Maybe his libido was easing off as he neared forty?

Donna ladled a large helping of stew and set it down with a glass of milk and a plate of biscuits. John washed his hands and tucked in, shoveling food in whilst listening to Joey reading his storybook. He had to finish four pages for the next day. "Spell that out again, son. You nearly got it right..." he muttered as the boy stumbled over a word. It was a typical evening at home, crazy busy as the day ticked down and the kids' needs took precedence. As he finished off his meal with a slice of chocolate cake and a mug of coffee, Donna chased the boys to the bath and carried Poll upstairs with little James trotting behind, his head already nodding, hanging off his mother's leg.

Suddenly the room was silent, just the distant voices of the elder boys bickering about something and their mother telling them to quit it. He smiled and carried the dishes to the sink, rinsing them off and loading the dishwasher, clearing up almost without thinking about it. That was their life now. It was a full time job just getting through a day. Donna was under so much pressure with a young baby and a toddler still under her feet all day, not to mention the constant demands of the older boys. But that was life. It was a good life. They had everything they always wanted: a good marriage, four beautiful healthy kids - even the daughter he'd always longed for - a safe home, friends, life in a community that he loved, his job that meant everything to him, the Saturday game...what more could a guy want?

Okay, maybe a little more money, a little more free time, a bit more of Donna, a night out with the boys here and there - but there was always something else if you gave it much thought. He should be satisfied with what they had. John knew that compared to most, they were blessed. Stretching out, he lay back on the couch, thinking he ought to go up and marshal the older boys for Donna, read James a story, go kiss Poll...but in seconds he had slipped off to sleep, dozing in the warmth...

...In his dream he was back at the ice - and so was the lovely French girl. This time he was smooth and thought of all the right lines. This time she smiled coyly at him and allowed him to take her hand. He led her on the ice - they were wearing skates - and they danced together, gliding round the ice faster and faster with a waltz playing in the background like a film track...

"...John? You asleep? Lucky for some, hey? I can just about remember sleep...!" Donna snapped as she began tidying up. The room was its usual mess of stuff. He ought to have done that for her.

"Wait...sorry, honey...I must have gone straight off..." he jumped up, gathering school bags and other paraphernalia, embarrassed, aware that he had been lazing about dreaming of another woman while his wife had been working hard. What was the matter with him today? He had that woman on the brain.

Donna merely laughed. "Hey, I don't blame you! It's been a long day for us both. So what say I make a fresh pot of coffee and you tell me all about the French girl...? You boys sure seemed taken with her...can't say I blame you. She's a pretty girl. I once used to have a waist like hers..."

John scoffed, reaching out and pulling her onto his knee. "Pretty? Didn't notice. You know I've only got eyes for you..." 

Donna snorted. "Not much you didn't. Betty said you were tripping over your tongue all morning - and I could see the evidence with my own two eyes, John Biebe! You're married but you're not dead. She was pushing all your buttons. I can tell..." Donna kissed his nose and got up. "...Because I know those very same buttons...and that moon-eyed look of yours..."

His wife didn't seem at all bothered as she finished straightening the room and making some coffee but her words worried John greatly. It seemed wrong to him that even his own wife had seen something about the way he looked at Claire. He felt uneasy and guilty, but he wasn't entirely sure why. He hadn't done anything wrong. So, she was a pretty girl? What's wrong with a guy looking? He was concerned about her. It was his job as sheriff to look out for people. He was just looking out for this poor lost French girl suffering from amnesia. She might be a good looking woman, and he might have had a few daydreams about her, but they had been innocent enough. Dreaming of ice dancing with a French beauty? It was hardly pornography, now was it?

He probably needed to get laid. It had been weeks. They'd only actually done it once since Donna got her all-clear after the baby. And even that had been a bit rushed, he being overeager and horny and Donna having one ear out for the baby. They needed some time together alone. Maybe he could get her Mom to stay some night and they could take a night away somewhere?

He sighed. Donna would never leave the kids. The truth of the matter was, he wouldn't be too happy with that either. What was the matter with him then? It was just sex. A guy of his age should not be trying to badger his wife into it just because he was horny. Nor should he be fantasizing about pretty foreign women either.

"Here's your coffee... so, found anything to explain where she came from?'

John stood up abruptly. "Can't you give it a rest, Donna? Is everyone obsessed with that damn girl? I'm going to have a bath..."

He stormed off up the stairs, leaving Donna sipping on her cup thoughtfully. Now, what in God's name was wrong with him? If he was a girl, she'd have said 'time of the month'. Donna smiled affectionately. Poor John! He was tired and frustrated and overworked and not getting anywhere near enough. Neither was she for that matter.  So, he was getting it on thinking about a winsome young slip of a thing with a cute accent? There were worse things a man could do. She knew John. He wasn't going anywhere. Neither was she. Who didn't from time to time imagine being swept off their feet by someone else? Or in this case, sweeping 'Miss Pert Size Four from Paris' into his manly arms?

Donna settled back and switched on the TV, flicking channels until she found an episode of a TV series she liked. The good looking hero was slickly romancing a new girl. 'I'll bet he doesn't have to have his supper first!' she giggled as she settled down to watch...

Tuesday:

"...Miss...er...Mademoiselle Claire...? John Biebe...the sheriff? Remember? I was just calling to see how you were getting on? I'll drop by later if you're free. Got a few official matters I need to go over with you...we need to get to work on chasing up some documents for you...you'll call into the station? Yeah...I'll be there..."

John hung up and shouted through the open office door: "Betty? Call old Moose Hanrahan. He asked me to drive up to Beaver Rock Canyon to have a look at some damage to his place. He thinks it's kids, hanging out at weekend getting drunk and high. My money's on a wolf...who'd go up there this weather even to make out? 'Specially to make out..." John cancelled his appointment and waited for the arrival of Claire.

Suddenly he popped his nose outside the office again. "You got a minute? Just go pick up some decent continental coffee from the store...she won't like that pond water we drink here...and maybe some pastries from the bakery...?"

Wednesday:

"Sorry to bother you again, ma'am, but I forgot to ask you if you think you've been anywhere recently where they've had an outbreak of a certifiable disease? I know you probably don't remember but it's just one of those things we need to ask. Red tape, huh? While I'm here...you want to go have a coffee? Meet some of the other Mystery residents? You never know something may jog your memory...say, why don't I take you to the diner for lunch? We could grab a bite and you might find something comes back...."

Thursday:

"Why, fancy meeting you here! I was just browsing through the knitwear section..." John rounded a corner in the clothing store in the small shopping centre and bumped straight into Clarity as she was looking at pullovers. Scott Pitcher had arrived earlier that day with a letter from his office; the council had unanimously agreed to settle a small sum of money on the hapless girl so that she could buy a few necessities. She couldn't be asked to wear hand-me-down clothes all the time. She was from Paris. Clothes were important to French women. Everyone knew that. Just because they lived way up north in Mystery didn't make them bumpkins.

Clarity restrained the giggle that threatened to escape at his obvious lie. John Biebe shopping for clothes? Even less likely was John Biebe going browsing in a mall. Her John wore clothes till they fell apart unless she bought new ones, hanging them in his closet or folding them up in his drawers. He would usually look a little surprised if it was something that hadn't been 'worn in' but acted as if clothes appeared by miracle when needed. She doubted her John even knew his shirt size. Somehow she didn't imagine this John was any different. How could he be? He was her John. They were the same person.

He just didn't know it.

"I was just going to buy this...do you think it's my color...?" Clarity held up a pretty knitted sweater, pale blue with a white snowflake pattern. There was a woolen pull on hat and gloves to match. The whole ensemble had a Scandinavian look. She would never have worn clothes like that usually but here in Mystery, there was a certain charm in this ski style.

"Your color?" John repeated the phrase as if she had said in it French and he was struggling with the meaning. "Er...It suits you fine...that what you mean?" he offered. "Makes your hair look even shinier..." He blushed as he said that. How could a sweater make her hair shinier? He had just noticed how thick and luscious her hair was and that stupid comment had come out at the same time. But 'Claire' just smiled and decided to purchase it anyway, adding it to the pile of items already selected at the counter.

"You want me to hang around? That's a heap of bags you'll be hauling, ma'am. I could throw them in the back on my wagon and run you home when you've finished..."

"But what about your shopping?' Clarity could not resist teasing him.

"Oh...they didn't have anything in my color..." he replied with a grin. "You know how it is...?"

Friday:

"Doreen, said to come right up...she's just off to change her library books..." John had knocked softly on the door of her room at the Sleeping Bear Inn. Clarity had opened it with a smile of joy that she tried unsuccessfully to tamp down. He observed her expression and it gave him a warm glow. She was glad to see him.

But then, why wouldn't she be? She didn't know anyone here and was stuck in her room alone with her fears for hours a day. He represented the protection of the law to her, that was all it would be.

"Oh, please...do come in...would you like a drink, Sheriff? I only have soft drinks here...oh wait...I also have a bottle of brandy...Walter Burns came by with it. He thought I might like it as it's French. Actually I rarely drink it. I haven't much of a head for cognac..."

She stepped back and John walked into the small neat bedroom. She must have been reading, he thought as his eyes surreptitiously scanned the room. There was an open book on the dresser. "I'll take a small nip...it's cold out...Thank you very much..." John smiled over.

Clarity poured out two measures and gave him one; he clinked her glass and raised it up. "Here's hoping your memory soon comes back. There's gotta be people looking for you out there, honey. A beautiful girl like you must have a guy somewhere who's going crazy over losing you..." John took a sip to cover his sudden nervousness. His eye strayed over to the bed. There was a pale pink nightdress draped across the pillow. It looked too flimsy for these parts where women usually went to bed clad in thick flannel. The sight gave him a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach that was only partly caused by the shot of brandy.

"Perhaps..." she answered sadly. "...Perhaps somewhere out there, some one does love me enough to care..."

There was something immeasurably heartbreaking in the melancholy note in her voice. It touched John deep inside to imagine a man out there somewhere trying to find out what had happened to this beautiful girl, beginning to fear the worse as the days passed with no word. They had put out her picture and description on bulletins and newspapers in the region, but so far there had been not a single response. It was probably time to go national.

He swigged back the rest of the drink, more for something to do with his hands that for wanting it. The fiery liquor hit the back of his throat and then he felt the charge to his brain. He hadn't had lunch. It was early in the day for strong booze.

"I'm sorry..." he heard her say as she sniffed and drank her own glass a little too quickly, trying to stem the tears that threatened to finally carry her away. Tears. John Biebe could tell when a woman was about to cry. It was instinctive with him.

He rested down the glass on the table and put his arm round the young woman, drawing her against his chest, resting her head on his shoulder as his other arm encircled her slender back and patted gently, as he might do to a child. "There, there, sweetheart...he's out there somewhere..."

"He is?" Her sweet perfect heart shaped face turned up to meet his, those pretty eyes brimming with tears. He looked down at her and his thick hair fell forward, brushing against her cheek. Without thinking, John put out a hand, his fingers stroking away the lock of hair, touching her soft skin for a moment before he ran them back to thrust his own hair out of the way. The action made him drop his face even closer to hers. He could smell her fresh perfume: shampoo and soap. Her lips were slightly parted as if she was about to say something. They looked so soft and inviting. For a long moment they both stood, rooted to the spot, far too close for any reason other than a prelude to a kiss. It almost happened. In their mind's eye, they saw the next moments, a soft touch of lips and then a deeper, wilder kiss, tongues dancing, sighing, hands reaching for a closer contact...

"...I'd better be off then..." John pulled away with an abrupt jerk as a voice screamed in his head: 'You damn fool!' His confusion was further saved by the sound of Marty on the stair whistling tunelessly. The door to the room was ajar. In moments he would be passing and observe them together...

John Biebe was stepping out of the young French lady's room as Marty strode by. "Hey, John...how's things?"

"Just fine, Marty, just fine...So, you call me if you think of anything, Claire? Much obliged for your time, ma'am..." And with that Biebe walked on without stopping to chat, already running down the stairs to leave.

Marty turned back to say something to Claire but saw that she too was lost in her own thoughts, her right hand resting on her left breast as if touching her heart as she stared trancelike after the sheriff. Marty shook his head. "For God's sakes, that's John Biebe...now, if it had been any other guy...leaving a pretty girl's bedroom in a hurry....Naw...John  Biebe? Not in this world..."

Saturday:

"You got a minute, Skank?" John Biebe was the last out of the locker room at the end of that day's game. Skank turned back.

"Sure thing, John. What's up? Hey, you see that French girl out there today? She was watching the game. You think she's got the hots for me? Can't be many other guys in Mystery who could bring her out on a cold day like this. They play hockey in France? I thought it was soccer and rugby there..." he mused to himself.

"They got snow...who knows?" John answered. "I was just going to ask you something..."

"Yeah? Ask away..." Skank said absently, still thinking about putting the moves on the French girl. Her name was Claire. His French wasn't bad. Maybe he should try the language of love? It might make her feel at home and lower her guard. The girl must be lonely and vulnerable...he was just being friendly...

"You date a lot of girls..." John began.

Skank laughed. "Not sure 'date' is the word I'd use...it implies regularity...I prefer hit and run, myself..."

"Whatever...when you see a good looking girl, Marden...what goes through your mind...?"

"You nuts? Did Tree fall on you again while I wasn't looking? Or has it been so long since you got any that you've forgotten...Thanks for reminding me why I'm not married with four kids...how did you get those kids anyway? Artificial insemination?"

John cursed under his breath. "Very funny! I'm not asking you to explain the birds and the bees to me...I wasn't referring to fantasizing. God's sakes, I don't want to hear what goes through your dirty little mind when you see a woman..."

"Then what you asking? I see a woman, I think about getting into her panties..."

"All women?"

Skank groaned. "Well, not all women! Mirabelle Houle's panties are certainly not on my 'to do' list..." John shivered at that mental image. "But, yeah...a lot of women do it for me...it depends on my mood and how long it's been..."

"Do you ever think about dancing with them on the ice, though...?" John interrupted.

"Boning on the ice? You crazy? It'd shrivel my dick...! I once did it in an ice house, mind you...but we kept our clothes on...." Skank added obscurely.

John winced at that. "I said 'dancing' not fucking... Ice dancing..."

"Dancing with a woman? On the ice? You asking me if I fantasize about dancing with women? You for real? Fuck me, John...you dance with a woman when you have to in real life to get laid. In your dreams you're already way past first base...they say 'yes' the moment they lay eyes on you in your fantasies - and probably aren't wearing any panties either...I mean, how long you want to be pulling it for? Foreplay ain't necessary when you jerk off...that's one of its bonuses...."

John stood up and zipped up his coat, pulling on his gloves. "Christ, what the hell am I even thinking of talking to you?" He stormed out of the room, banging the door behind him. Skank went to the box to turn off the lights and heating, mulling the odd conversation over. 'What the fuck was all that about? Biebe thinking of playing an away fixture? He got some little cutie on the back burner somewheres...? Well, well, well....'