"Reactions"
by Aaron Storck
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Forte Museum The Forte Museum had been cleared of guests for just about an hour and only a few of the staff and the cleaning crew remained. From the Curator’s Office, however, it was practically impossible to hear the vacuums’ and floor polishers’ high-pitched humming. The office was L-shaped with a large desk and workstation occupying the corner of the “L.” Around the corner from the desk was the office’s sitting area, where a tan leather couch took up a good portion of the wall. Against the opposite wall stood a large wooden bookshelf with a few cabinets built in. The largest was open and the modest flat panel television inside was tuned to a news network with the sound currently muted. Jack Parker shifted in his seat and leaned back on the couch. His feet were resting on a magazine atop the coffee table in front of him. Seated in a matching recliner next to him was the office’s occupant, Wally Wood, Curator of the Forte Museum. “Are you nervous?” Parker asked his friend. “Not really,” the older man answered truthfully. “But I was on Friday.” “No one could tell. The VIP tent was close to the stage. We got a better look than just about anyone and everyone there was impressed.” “That’s kind of you to say Jack.” Electro-Man paused for a moment, glanced up at the television briefly to make sure the program hadn’t started and turned back to Dr. Jackal. “How did the vote go?” “Well…” Jack paused, “you know how it went. The majority gave their blessing and Holly went public.” “Look, I’m not asking you to tell me who voted which way. I abstained from participating for obvious reasons, Jack, but how was the reaction? What was the mood like? Was there a lot of debate?” Jack Parker glanced down at his feet. “Why do you want to know?” “It’s important to me. I need to know if I have to rebuild some bridges. I want to make sure that I still have the confidence of the team, past and present.” Wally leaned across the arm of the recliner while the other man still reused to meet his gaze. “Jack, should I consider resigning from the Forte Foundation?” “Hell, Wally, no one even considered it,” Parker said, finally looking up. “This has nothing to do with you and the work you’re doing here.” “Then what is it?” “There were… some… that thought this choice was a bit reckless,” the younger man admitted finally. The Forte Museum curator stiffened. “I’m not taking this personally, don’t get me wrong, but I’d like to think my daughter has earned enough respect over the years that everyone would believe that this was not a decision entered into lightly.” Once more, the former newspaper man and Forte founder paused. Clearly, he was choosing his next words carefully. “It reminded… some of the team… of Holly in the early days.” “You keep saying ‘some.’ Why…” “I’ll just come out and say it,” the other man interrupted. “*I* voted against it, Wally.” Electro-Man sat back in his recliner. He thought he had a pretty good idea of who on the current and past Forte roster might have a problem with Guardienne going public with her real name on international television, but he hadn’t considered Dr. Jackal to be one of them. For years the Wood and Parker families had been incredibly close, and Wally Wood knew that his daughter’s decision had been weighed very heavily upon the impact that her decision would have on the Parkers. There were many hours spent in the time leading up to the public revelation that Holly and her father talked about the fallout that her announcement would cause for her friends. “We’ve been friends a long time, Jack. I’d really like to know why you voted against.” “I didn’t vote against Holly. I hope you understand that. Did you know that she actually came and asked Sabrina and me what we thought about it before she asked me to put it out for a vote?” Wally shook his head. He didn’t know the Parkers had been consulted. “But you let her take it to a vote anyway? Why didn’t you just tell her ‘no’ and be done with it?” “Because I love her like she was my own daughter. You know that.” “Of course I do. So why vote against it?” “Because my wife doesn’t have superpowers anymore, outside of that holographic suit that Jonny Quest created. Because I have two young daughters getting ready to go off to college. Because I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gone to bed at night worried that I’d wake up and find Lucifer D’Arque or Frank Clayton standing at the foot of my bed. “And, mostly, because I wanted to make sure that someone represented the other side fairly,” Dr. Jackal admitted. “Most of the others are as crazy about Holly as Sabrina and I are, but I wanted an honest and open discussion.” “You don’t think Vanguard could have done that?” “I also didn’t want Robert to be the only voice of dissent or vote of opposition. We make jokes about him being paranoid, that he sees Maxwell Ravescroft lurking in every corner. Let me tell you something, Wally. As much as we like to joke, I think a lot of us do it because he was more often right than wrong and we’re afraid to admit the number of times we owed our lives to his intuition. “You weren’t around for Intercrime or Force Command. NRG Labs and Armor Security used to be real threats and I think a lot of people are quick to forget that these days. Vanguard hasn’t. “And frankly, Wally, he wasn’t the only other one to vote against Holly going public. It was a secret ballot. Syd and I counted the votes and I’m not going to say it was close, but there were more votes against than I’d have expected. Even the current team wasn’t unanimously in favor of Holly’s decision.” “Jack, I…” “Wally, listen. There was one more reason I chose to vote against, and maybe the most important reason of all: I knew my wife and daughter would vote in Holly’s favor and cancel my vote.” Parker broke the sober mood with a grin. “It happens nearly every election cycle. Sabrina finds out who I like and votes the other way.” Electro-Man paused in quiet reflection for a moment before reacting. “Listen, Jack…” Dr. Jackal ignored his friend and reached for the television remote laying on the coffee table next to his feet. Clicking off the mute button, the show’s opening fanfare began. The voice of Larry King welcomed viewers and announced that he was “going one on one in an exclusive interview with Holly Wood, better known as Forte’s Dyna Girl.” With a smile he settled in to his spot on the couch and looked over at his friend. “Let’s see if ol’ Larry can keep it interesting.” The older man returned the smile and turned to the television, but his thoughts were on what the retired Forte founder had just told him. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Message sent to “Chatter” Still recovering from Friday nite VIP party. Met Warren Teather & he reads HC Blog! Update coming. B sure 2 watch Larry King and Conan 2nite for Guardienne! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Kell’s Irish Restaurant & Pub “Shouldn’t you be watching this?” “I’ve got it on the DVR at home,” Ken Hollenbeck replied, glancing up at the television over the bar that was showing Holly’s appearance on Larry King Live. “Besides, Jeff, everything’s changed.” “How’s that?” the heavyset man asked his friend and employer. The comic store owner paused. “It’s like… Never mind. I’ll tell you all about it one of these days,” Ken said, glancing back down at the half empty pint glass in front of him. He made it clear he wanted to change the subject. “Dude, my girlfriend is out of town,” he added with a smile, looking back up, “so I have a day pass. Why waste it, right? Besides, we’re supposed to be out celebrating your big success. “Here’s to the newest artist for KC Comics,” Ken said, lifting his glass to his friend. “Jeff Turner, artist on ‘Guardienne.’” Jeff lifted his pint and clinked the offered glass. “Thanks man.” After taking a sip, the artist added, “I mean it. Thanks. I know that you and Holly made this deal happen.” “Hey, I just made copies of your sketches and she contacted the publisher. Your talent got you this job.” “Why’d she do it?” Ken smiled again. “I think it’s because she trusts you to do right by her. Because she considers you a friend. She’s also a fan of your work. She told me she thinks your work is better than half of what’s being published today.” “Well, she’s right, you know,” Jeff added with no hint of modesty at all. “Of course she is. She’s always right,” Ken added before drinking down what was left in his glass. “Especially because she’s a woman that can lift a Mack Truck. THAT’S what makes her right all the time.” “I heard that, brutha.” Jeff said knocking down his pint and watching Ken signal for two more. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1838 California St. Bobby McMillan turned off the television and took his dinner plate back into the kitchen. He made sure to rinse his plate clean of the sauce residue left from his Tia Juanita’s microwave burrito and placed the plate neatly into the dishwasher. Refreshing the ice in his tall glass tumbler, he refilled the glass with more Mountain Dew and returned the plastic bottle to the refrigerator. His apartment was small. It was located on the top floor of one of those old Nob Hill Victorian houses that had been refurbished into individual apartments some years back. One nice thing about the place was the location. Everything he needed was in walking distance. He really didn’t need a car. If he did need to go further than walking distance, he could always put on his Max costume and fly there. Or he could borrow one of the team vehicles from the Forge base. The other nice thing about his apartment was that he had sole access to the roof. He paid a little more for that amenity. It allowed him to leave the house at night unseen behind the cover of some strategically placed planter boxes he put up there. Weekdays were even less of a problem. He could leave his office and rocket into the sky from just about anywhere amid the busy downtown skyline. Bobby sat at his computer and pulled on a headset. The small window that monitored activity on the SynQuest Voice-Over IP software he was running showed that there were two people on their shared channel. He clicked into the channel. “… you’re lucky my mom likes you, otherwise she’d never go for it.” “Of course your mom likes me, Gabe. Moms like me.” “So have you picked out a campsite yet?” “I found a place out on the peninsula. The Queets River. You have to go out on a forestry service road for a few miles to get to the campground. It’s gonna be awesome!” “Sounds remote. Do you think your crap wagon’s gonna make it there and back, Nik?” “Funny, Banks. Just for that, you can buy the gas.” “Hey, Nikki. Hey, Gabe,” Bobby interjected, announcing his arrival into the chat channel. “What’s up?” “I’m just deciding whether or not I’m picking up Gabe at the airport next week,” Nikki Parker said playfully. “You’re going to be in Seattle next week, Gabe? Awesome! I’d love to pop up there and see you. Maybe I’ll call Sam and see if she can ‘port me up there.” “That’d be cool, Bobby. I hope to see you.” “What do you have planned?” “Dad-time, of course,” Gabriel Banks said, referring to his father, Jared Banks, a.k.a. Seahawk. “Then Nikki and I are going camping with Samantha and Paul. Holly and Ken were supposed to go too, but she’s a bit busy these days.” “Did you catch her on Larry King? I just watched it.” “It was on, but I wasn’t watching. Larry King’s boring. “Samantha said that she and some of the Armor Security people helped tape Conan earlier. Holly punches Conan across Giants Stadium in a padded fat suit or something. Supposed to be funny. I’ll watch that.” “Sounds like it. I’m going to set the DVR. Hang on.” Nikki and Gabriel heard Bobby set down his headset mic and get up. A moment later he was back with a rustling sound as the headset went back on. “Sorry about that. I’m back.” “You’d figure that a guy that makes a living working with computers would have his DVR networked to his desktop.” “Yeah, you’d figure,” Bobby answered sarcastically. “So are you guys just talking or did you want to get a couple hours in tonight?” “That’s why I’m here. I didn’t want to spend all night talking to Banks.” “You love me and you know it.” “Whateva!” “That’s why I’m here, too. Enough talking, already!” Samantha Parker’s voice chided from over the group’s headsets. “Sam!” “Hey, Sam.” “Hi, Samantha.” “Bobby, I just got your text. Let me know when to pick you up next week.” “Wow. Bobby CAN multi-task. Will wonders never cease?” “Hey Sam, forget about next week, I don’t need to waste my time visiting this clown.” “Did you guys all watch Holly on Larry King?” “Bobby did. Gabe and I didn’t. I told them about Conan though.” “Yeah, that Conan thing sounds cool.” “It’s going to be funny,” Samantha promised. “What did you think of the interview and the whole thing?” “I suppose if you didn’t know her, you might get more out of it, but I don’t think he asked her tough questions. It wasn’t a really good interview.” “How do you feel about her going public with everything?” “Do you mean how did I vote, or how do I feel about it?” Bobby paused a moment. “I’m cool.” Bobby declined to elaborate further, and after a pregnant pause, Nikki thought it would be a good time to change the subject. “So who’s everyone playing?” “Are we doing a beat-down or a quest?” Samantha picked up on the cue and followed her younger sister’s lead. “I don’t have time for a quest tonight. I have a conference call early in the morning.” “If it’s not a quest, I won’t take Tracker then. I’ll play Phantasm.” “I’ll play Vanguard.” Bobby said as he launched “KC Comics: War Almighty” on his computer. “You always play Vanguard. Why not play someone else?” “Because Vanguard kicks ass.” “I’m playing Triphammer.” “I’ll play Dad,” Samantha piped in, referring to Doctor Jackal. “Why don’t you just play Vortex?” Nikki Parker said to her sister teasingly as Samantha and Vortex were an item in real life. “Vortex is lame,” Samantha replied. “I heard that!” It was Paul (Vortex) Seaborn’s voice coming from the background over Samantha’s microphone. “Vortex IN THE GAME is lame, hunny. Not you,” Samantha said to her boyfriend. The others heard Paul say something in the background, but couldn’t make out the speedster’s reply. “Hey Sam, tell Paul he should play too.” Samantha turned her attention back to her friends online. “He’s busy watching the Mariner game.” -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Giovanni
“’Bout frickin’ time,” he muttered aloud to nobody. Jared took a drag off his cigarette and continued listening. Washburn was doing all right. The “M’s” had jumped on a lead in the first, and the pitcher was keeping the Athletics from getting across the plate, but the Mariners had a bad habit of surrendering runs late. He could have watched the game on television, but preferred listening. If it got exciting late, he’d turn it on. For now, he let his thoughts drift a bit and thought about his son’s visit next week. He would have liked to go to New York and have Gabriel meet him there for the All-Star Game, but neither his “day job” as head of security for Tether International’s Seattle office, nor his evening work as Seahawk could afford him the time off. Still, the Mariners would be back home taking on the Indians after the All-Star game and Jared had arranged for a couple of seats up in the Tether corporate suite. That should make it “cool enough” for the almost-15-year-old to want to catch a ball game with his old man. 15 going on 21 is more like it, he thought. He knew that while Gabe was always happy to see his father, his visits to Seattle had taken on a new dimension: girls. Well, one girl in particular, Nikki Parker. She was older than him by about 3 years, but as kids grow into young adults, the age gap begins to close. A few years ago, she was the cool big sister. Now she was his “partner in crime”. A few years from now, they would be “close enough” in age to date. In fact it was Nikki that had become Gabriel’s biggest cheering section during his recovery from the attack that nearly killed him. Six years ago a vengeful super-villain discovered Jared was Seahawk and destroyed the hero’s ex-wife’s home, leaving the younger Banks on crutches for over a year. Jared suspected that his son’s burgeoning feelings for the 18-year-old were his secret motivation: Gabriel didn’t want to let her down, nor did he want her pity. Jared believed that his son had long-term plans for Ms. Parker and himself. Gabe was recovering steadily and had become a well-toned young man. Since he met Nikki and the two had become friends, he had thrown himself into his physical therapy, challenging himself whenever possible. Weight-lifting, swimming, karate classes and even yoga had all improved his mobility and strength. He still walked with a limp and used a cane from time to time, but overall it was a recovery that no one could have dreamed of. Jared stubbed out his cigarette and immediately lit another, angry at himself that he had let his mind had wander back to the fact that his son was nearly killed by Stingray. Six years should be long enough, he kept telling himself, not to think of Stingray every time you think about your son. “Perr-mish-un to come aboard, cap’n?” a familiar voice slurred with alcohol said loudly from the dock below. Jared peered over the rail, already knowing who he would see below. “Come aboard, James.” Even inebriated, James Avalon easily navigated the plank and hopped onboard. A moment later Jared heard him rummaging through the galley, and James soon emerged from the upper hatch onto the afterdeck with two glasses in one hand and a paper bag in the other. “Yeh having a drink with me,” the attorney stated, putting the glasses down on the table next to Jared’s radio. His British accented voice had lost all its practiced polish and refinement and had slipped back into the rough, back street tones he had grown up with. James seated himself across from Jared and reached into the bag. Jared turned off the radio and took a glass. “Okay, but are you sure…” James’ face grew immediately sober and his steely glare locked onto Jared’s eyes. “Don’t tell me I’ve had enough to drink,” he snarled. Jared recognized that voice. It was the same semi-whisper, semi-growl James used when he was trying to scare the piss out of some lowlife as Moonspider. Jared backed down and watched his friend and teammate pour two scotches, passing one over to him. “So what’s the occasion?” Seahawk asked. James lifted his glass and touched Jared’s. “Here’s to Holly,” he said, sporting a false, overly enthusiastic grin. He then swallowed the scotch in his glass in a single gulp. “To Holly,” Jared replied, sipping his own drink. “C’mon, Sunshine,” James said refilling the glass in his hand. “This is a right honorable piss-up I’ve planned for us, and you’re mucking it up.” “I’m pacing myself,” Jared replied, taking another small sip. “You’re a bloody tosser.” James again emptied his glass, exhaled mightily and refilled it. “What’s the hell’s your problem, James?” Jared asked softly. There was no hint of anger behind it. “Gabriel.” James snapped his fingers. “Stephanie,” James snapped again, referring to Seahawk’s ex-wife. “Ken.” Snap. Holly’s boyfriend. “Wally.” Another snap. Holly’s father. “Max Toy. Geoffrey. Sam Seaborn. Erin. Bree.” Moonspider continued to name the friends, family, and loved ones of Forte members from past and present, snapping after each of their names. “Sabrina. Nikki. Monique.” “I get the picture,” Jared said, cutting him off. “Doesn’t she remember Stingray?” James turned away and asked the night. “How about The Grandmaster? Holly was right there when Jack and Sabrina told us about all the info that wanker collected on all of us. CHESS was ready to wipe us all out.” Moonspider gulped down another scotch and refilled the glass. “Now she’s pissing it all away. She could have just changed her name and left it at that. Why’d she have to go public?” Jared let the question hang and took another sip of scotch, a deeper one. It was a good question, one he’d asked himself a few times over the last few weeks. One he didn’t have a satisfactory answer to. James took one sip from his glass and set it back on the table. “You know what really hacks me off?” He leaned back in the lounge chair and closed his eyes. “What’s that?” “I got no family. That makes all of you my family,” he said drowsily. “Life just got more dangerous for my family.” Jared Banks finished the last sip of scotch in his glass and listened to the water lap up against the hull and James Avalon drift off to sleep.
Xanadu Comics Ken Hollenbeck unlocked the front door to the store and clicked on the lights, announcing to passersby that his shop was open for business. He took a bottle of “purple” Gatorade from the countertop and drank deeply. For as many times as they’d changed the names and flavors of the “purple” variety of the popular sports beverage, he still always chose that color. It didn’t matter what the drink tasted like (honestly, he didn’t think Gatorade had much of a taste), the only time he ever bought the stuff was when he had a bit of a hangover. He made sure to stop and get a couple bottles today. On the way to bed last night, Ken realized that no amount of water drank before bed was going to help in the morning. He had done a number on himself going out with Jeff last night, no question about it. This was shaping up to be a “two Gatorade and Kung Pao Chicken” kind of day. Fortunately, House of Lee opened in an hour and they delivered. Unfortunately, Ken was flying solo today. Jeff had a conference call with the writer and editors of the new Guardienne book for KC Comics and Ken had given his friend the day off. The company wanted an eight-page story online in a week and the full book on the streets in the next month. The comic shop owner realized that if Jeff was successful, he would have to hire someone to replace the artist. Time enough to think about that later, Ken noted to himself. Wait until the Gatorade starts working, at least. Ken began clearing last week’s releases from the “New Comic Wall” and relocating them over to the “Current Issues” shelves, a weekly ritual done in anticipation of the new books due to arrive the next day. Once finished, he knew he’d have to review e-mail and take care of his mail order clients. Then there was the bank deposit. While he prepared the deposit slip, an underlying current of tension and exhaustion began to creep in around him. It was an unusual feeling, and one that he knew instinctively had nothing to do with his hangover. Not directly at least. For the first time in the eleven years since he opened his comic book store, he realized that it had become a job. For the longest time it had been a clubhouse of sorts for friends and customers to hang out at, playing music and video games and discussing movies and comics. But today, as he looked around the empty store, quiet and still, noticing all the dust he had ignored in the past… “There’s no one left to play with,” he said quietly to the still around him, quoting some television show or movie he couldn’t recall. Nor did it seem to matter today which program it was or who said it, whereas before any number of hours would have been spent debating and discussing it. Instead, he finished the deposit slip, pocketing it along with the checks and cash he intended to take to the bank. Quickly, he scribbled a note and taped it to the front door, turned off the lights, set the alarm and left the shop, locking the door behind him. He planned out the rest of the day in his head while he walked to the bank. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 66 Bell St. - Loft 308 “Get your ass in here!” Holly said, pulling her boyfriend by the shirt through the doorway of her loft apartment. Using just a little of her amazing strength, she was able to drag him nearly five feet into the room. Surprised, Ken dropped the reusable canvas shopping bags and messenger bag he was carrying. Nudging the door closed behind him with her foot, Holly pulled him close and kissed him strongly and deeply. “I’ve missed those lips!” she said as she released him, then thought better of it and kissed him again, this time winding her arms around him and letting the kiss develop into something softer and sweeter. Finally, after some time, she surrendered Ken’s lips and buried her cheek into his stretched and rumpled shirt. “You should go away more often,” Ken said smiling and continuing the embrace. “I like the souvenirs you come back with.” With a giggle and a smile, she took him by the hand and led him over to the couch. “Get over here. I didn’t get ‘snuggle-time’ for a week,” Holly admitted, pushing her body up against his side and wrapping her arms around his waist as soon as he had seated herself. She nuzzled her face into him, and Ken could feel tension leave her immediately as he held her close. Minutes passed in silence as each enjoyed the other’s familiar shape and smell. Soon Holly’s cat Frank, not to be denied affection or attention, hopped up onto his owner’s hip and laid there purring. Ken slid his hand down from Holly’s shoulder and began stroking the sleepy cat’s coat. “You hungry?” he asked his companion. “Starved,” she replied. “Well then it’s a good thing I brought groceries.” “You know me so well,” she smiled, looking up into his eyes and kissing him gently once more. Ken tried unsuccessfully to untangle himself from his girlfriend and replace himself with a throw pillow in such a way that it would not disrupt her or her cat’s repose. As soon as he extracted himself from the couch, Frank was up and moving back to “his” window overlooking the street below. Now abandoned on the couch by both her “guys,” Guardienne walked over to the kitchen to help Ken gather the bags from the floor. He was just putting a box of pasta up on the counter when he spied her reaching for his messenger bag. “I’ll take that!” he said, a little more forcefully than he intended. He nearly leapt across the kitchen and snatched the bag’s strap from her reach. She recovered from the brief shock of the moment while Ken hung the soft-sided bag from the coat rack just inside the front door. “So what’s in the bag, Mister?” she asked suspiciously and playfully. “Dessert,” he replied, with a sly smirk. He returned to the grocery bags on the floor and began sorting the contents for dinner. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Remind me again why I go away,” Holly said, peering at Ken over the rim of her wine glass. “So that when you come back I’ll cook for you,” he replied, matter-of-factly. “I think you’re right.” She smiled brightly at him. “I also think I love you.” “Think?” he asked, mocking surprise. “Okay, okay,” she said, standing up and walking over to his side of the table. He slid his chair back allowing her to sit on his lap, and she put her arms around his neck, looking into his eyes. “I love you, Mr. Hollenbeck.” Then Holly kissed him again, this time much more deeply. When she finally released him, he smiled and said quietly, “I think you only love me because I cook for you. That’s a pretty trivial reason.” Holly looked Ken square in the eye and grabbed his cheeks in her hand. “Romance is not trivial. Got it?” She released his face and he was quick to give her a brief peck on the lips. “I got it.” “Now,” she said, satisfied that she had made her point, “what’s in that bag?” She quickly nodded her head toward the messenger bag for emphasis. “I’ll grab the bag and the wine, you grab the glasses, and we’ll meet at the couch.” “Deal.” Holly got off her boyfriend’s lap and each of them went to complete their assignments. On the way back, Ken turned on the pole lamp next to the couch, illuminating the living room area. He also used his elbow to bump the switch for the overhead light far above the loft space, adding just a bit more light. Intrigued, Holly sat in her place on the couch in mute observation, having set the glasses down as instructed. Ken sat down next to her, opened the bag and withdrew a short stack of paper. As he began to unfold them and lay them out on the coffee table, she quickly realized that these were blueprints for a structure. Then she caught his name in the title block on the right side of the paper. “What is this?” she asked. “This looks like a house.” “This is the mother lode, Hol,” Ken smiled. “Remember way back when you and I first met, you came by the shop one night with coffee for me and I told you about the ‘Captain Patriot’ comic I sold?” (see "The Long-Awaited Origin of Captain Patriot") “Yeee-aah,” the woman replied, not quite following. “Well, I’d sold a lot of comics before then, and I’ve sold a lot since, though up until the moment that you came by with the coffee and I told you about Captain Patriot, I didn’t really have a plan. I was making money and just putting it away, for retirement or something.” “That’s generally a good thing to do with money,” she said sarcastically. “So I started formulating a plan,” he said, ignoring her, “and I kept socking money away. I wasn’t really sure what I was going to do until a couple of years later when you came back from your first trip into Realmspace. (see Forte Chronicles #1: Into the Realm) “Do you recall the day trip that you and Samantha and Bobby and I took to Snoqualmie Falls?” “Sure I do,” Holly answered. She still had a photo from that trip about five years ago sitting in a photo collage frame in the entryway. “Sam said something interesting. She commented on how empty the Issaquah Highlands looked. Do you remember? She talked about how, on her world, she’s used to seeing a hospital and a housing community up there.” Holly paused before she answered. Samantha Parker came from a world roughly 11 years ahead of the current time here. (see Nightsable) She was not sure she liked where this was going. “Yeah, I think so.” “Well, five years ago, I bought a decent-sized parcel of land up there. It’s got a great view. I always thought it would be a great place to build if my plans fell through. “The people I bought it from still own the majority of it. Nice folks. It took a bit of doing, but I convinced them to sell me a parcel of it.” Ken saw the look of surprise and shock in his girlfriend’s eyes. He continued before she could protest. “Holly,” he said taking her hands in his, “I’ve always wanted a house on a lake. I was never going to be able to afford it. “A couple of weeks ago I got a call from the Coopers, the folks that own the land next to mine, the ones that sold it to me. They are selling to a developer and they want my parcel too. They are buying it at FOUR TIMES what I paid for it! “I’m going to buy a piece of land on a lakefront and I’m going to build THIS house,” he said, nodding at the blueprints on the table. Ken released Holly’s hands gently. “I originally drew these when I was studying architecture at Yoo-Dub. I dusted them off this week and revised them. A buddy of mine from school is now a partner at a firm in Seattle so I sent them over to him to review. “I wanted to share them with you because I want this to be your house, too.” He reached into the messenger bag again and pulled out a velvet box. He opened it and an engagement ring caught the light inside. “Because I want to spend the rest of my life with you. “Will you marry me?” Holly sat stunned, looking at the ring, speechless. Her emotions were running rampant. Only a moment ago she was ready to read her boyfriend the riot act for abusing another friend’s trust. Before that she was contented and happy. Now she was paralyzed, bound by love and fear and anger and joy. Her feelings collided into one another and cascaded about her. She willed her eyes to leave the box that had been presented to her and looked up into Ken’s eyes. He sat there, waiting. And though it had only been a second or two since he asked the question, it truly felt like forever. Holly saw the love that he had for her in his eyes. In a moment, she envisioned what her life would be like with him, building a home and raising a family together. Her mind wandered briefly to the “other” Holly, the one from Samantha Parker’s world 11 years in the future, and she recalled how happy she and her family were. (see "A Friend in Need, Part Three: Reflections") In the end, it came down to trust. That was what Holly Wood, Guardienne, prized above all other things. Did she trust this man to support her and understand, considering the life she led with Forte? Yes. Did she trust in his love for her, her father, her friends? Yes. Did she trust him to be a good man and a kind man throughout all his days? Yes. “Yes,” she replied with tears welling up in her eyes. “Yes, I’ll marry you.” Ken’s face beamed with joy as he took the ring from the box and slipped it onto her finger. “I love you, Holly. I have since the moment you let me tell you about that comic book. That was the moment that changed everything for me.” Through the tears, Holly looked at her fiance’s face. That face had made her happy, it always had. And, for the rest of her life it always would. THE END
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