Back | Next
Contents

PART FIVE:
Home

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Jason

Home is where one starts from. As we grow older
The world becomes stranger, the pattern more complicated
Of dead and living. Not the intense moment
Isolated, with no before and after,
But a lifetime burning in every moment . . . 

—T. S. Eliot

Tennetty kicked Pirate into a canter, coming even with Karl, then slowing her horse down to a walk.

Carrot whinnied, lifting her feet a bit higher as Karl rode her through the tall grasses.

"Easy, Carrot." He patted her neck, then glared at Tennetty. "Don't do that—she likes to be out in front."

She shrugged. It was possible that Tennetty could have cared less about something than she did about what Carrot wanted or didn't want, but only barely. "How long?"

Fine. On this trip, I didn't have Slovotsky asking "Are we there yet?" all the damn time. Instead, I've got Tennetty asking "How long is it going to be?" Three times in the morning, four in the afternoon, twice when we're sitting around the campfire in the evening. I could set my watch by her. If I had a watch. 

It had taken a couple of weeks on the newly named Ganness' Revenge to arrive at the little fishing village of Hindeyll, then weeks of travel on the Pandathaway–Metreyll road to get to the Waste, another month to skirt the Waste and cross into the outskirts of Therranj.

Of course, we could have cut out some time if we hadn't jumped those slavers near Wehnest. Backtracking to chase them down must have cost us a week. At least. Not a bad raid, though; it had added a sackful of coin, three horses, and another member to their party.

Peill was a nice addition to the group; Karl had never met anyone with such a talent for tracking as the elf.

He turned to see the tall elf riding next to Ahira's pony, Chak and Aeia on the dwarf's other side, while Ahira continued the English lesson.

Guess this stuff about elves and dwarves not getting along doesn't apply when the dwarf is the one who shatters the elf's chains.  

Peill's skills with a longbow could come in handy, particularly if he could teach others to use it. The trouble with the crossbows was that their rate of fire was just too damn low, although they did have the advantage of greater accuracy.

But from ambush, a few good longbowmen might be able to finish off a group of slavers before they even knew that they were under attack.

Then again, it would be hard for a longbowman to conceal himself; a crossbowman could shoot while prone, or from a perch in a tree. . . .

Well, it was something to think about, anyway. Maybe talk over with Chak.

But I can do that later. We're almost home, and we all deserve a vacation.  

"I asked you, 'How long?' " Tennetty glared at him. "If you're going deaf, you can damn well count me out of the next trip."

Perhaps twenty miles across the plain, the ground sloped upward into an area of blackened, burned ground. Beyond that, the valley lay.

"I figure we'll get there sometime tomorrow."

It was almost over. For now. But only for now.

Karl sighed. I'm never going to be done with blood. Not until the day I die. 

*Then again, if you don't learn to keep your eyes open while you're feeling sorry for yourself, that could be anytime now.*

"Ellegon!" He scanned the sky. Nothing but clouds, and a few birds to the east. Where are you? 

*Try behind you.*

Karl turned in the saddle; above and behind him, a familiar shape dropped out of the blue sky.

*I usually come this way on the returning leg of my patrol,* the dragon said.

Both Carrot and Pirate snorted and held their ground as the dragon landed; the other horses galloped away in different directions, their riders vainly trying to control the animals' panic.

Tennetty swore as she struggled with Pirate's reins. "Easy, now. Easy, damn you. The idiot dragon's just trying to scare you, not eat you."

*Good to see you too, Tennetty.*

"Try giving a little warning next time."

"Cut the crap, both of you," Karl snapped. "Ellegon, how is Andy-Andy? And the baby?"

A gout of fire roared into the sky. *Took you long enough to ask.*

Don't play games with me, Ellegon.  

*Both your wife and son are fine.*

My son. Karl shook his head. If ever anyone wished for a daughter . . . "You stay away from my son, Deighton," he whispered. "Just leave him alone."

Across the plain, Aeia and Chak had reined their horses down to a canter, while Ahira's and Peill's mounts still galloped away.

"Just as well," Tennetty said. "Might teach them all something about keeping their animals under control." She patted at Pirate's neck, then held out a hand to Karl. "Give me your reins."

"Huh?"

She jerked a thumb at the dragon. "I think you might be able to persuade Ellegon to give you a ride the rest of the way home. I'll gather the others together and bring them all in sometime tomorrow."

It was tempting, but . . . "I'd better stay." The group was Karl's responsibility, until they got home. He could relax then.

*Idiot.*

"Idiot," Tennetty echoed. She rolled her eyes, looking toward heaven for reassurance. "Ellegon, explain to Karl how his wife would feel about his being gone a day longer than necessary."

*Well . . . I don't think Andrea would exactly appreciate it. She's been a bit worried; she was hoping you'd be back by now.*

"You sure things are safe around here?"

*I was just finishing my patrol, Karl.* The dragon pawed at the grass. *Though you could be right, come to think of it. I smell a nest of rabbits somewhere around here; maybe your whole party will get eaten if you're not here to protect them. If it will make you happy, I'll be willing to fly back and baby-sit Ahira and the rest after I drop you off at home.*

"The reins, please." Tennetty snapped her fingers. "Get moving."

He laughed. "You win." He jumped from Carrot's saddle, tossing the reins to Tennetty. "See you tomorrow," he said, climbing up to Ellegon's back.

The dragon's wings began to beat, moving faster and faster until they were only a blur, whipping so much grass and dust into the air that Karl had to close his eyes.

Ellegon leaped skyward. *I've got strict instructions about where to set you down,* he said, as the ground dropped away beneath them.

As they passed over Chak and Aeia, Karl returned their waves. Ellegon? 

*Be quiet for a while; I'm going to put on some speed.* His wings began to work even faster, the wind drawing tears out of Karl's eyes.

Karl put his head to the dragon's rough hide and held on.

*Almost home.* The rush of wind slowed.

Karl raised his head. They were flying over what had been a burned rise leading to the valley. It had become even more green; soon, the evidence that a fire had once burned would be gone.

The valley spread out below. When Karl had left, the encampment had been one wooden wall, a stone fireplace, and two wagons.

There had been some changes. More than thirty log cabins spread out along the shore of the lake, several of them with split-rail corrals for horses and cattle.

Children scampered around a wooden dock that jutted out from the shore, pausing momentarily in their play to wave to Ellegon as the dragon passed overhead.

Where there had been only forest, there now were fields, stalks of corn, and seas of wheat waving in the breeze.

The fortifications had been completed; they now enclosed a group of five houses, one with a slow-turning waterwheel. Ellegon dove toward the bare-dirt courtyard, braking with his wings.

Mill?  

*Yes. Riccetti has done well, no?*

You've all done well.  

Deftly avoiding the network of hollowed half-logs that piped water to the five houses, the dragon landed inside the walls. Karl dismounted.

*Welcome home.*

To his right, a familiar face peeked out of an open-sided cabin whose chimney puffed smoke into the air. Walter Slovotsky, wearing a leather apron and carrying a smith's hammer, ran into the courtyard, dropping the hammer as he ran.

"Karl." Slovotsky stuck out a hand, drew it back, shaking his head. "To hell with it." He threw his arms around Karl.

"Dammit, you're breaking my back," Karl said, untangling himself.

Slovotsky chuckled. "Fat chance." He turned. "Kirah! They're—" He caught himself. "Is everyone—?"

"We lost Fialt, but the rest of us are fine." Except for Rahff. I wish he'd gotten the chance to— 

*Later, Karl, later. Homecoming is supposed to be a happiness.*

You know a lot about happiness?  

*I'm learning, Karl. Walter, take him to her.*

Slovotsky led Karl toward a cabin on the far side of the courtyard, talking nonstop as they walked. "I wish we'd known you were getting back today. Lou's taken a party to the far side of the valley. He found a cave full of bats a couple of months ago, and we're finally getting them all cleared out."

"Bats?" Karl removed his hand from the hilt of his sword. "Some sort of trouble?"

"No." Slovotsky laughed. "Just garden-variety fruit bats. They can give you a nasty bite, but Thellaren—he's our cleric—can fix you right up."

"Cleric?"

"Spidersect. Showed up one day, half starved; seems he had some trouble with the Therranji. Does one hell of a business, although Andy and I had to reason with him about rates. The bastard was charging—"

"Then why clear out the bats?"

Slovotsky smiled knowingly. "Think about it. What are bats good at making?"

"Baby bats, and bat sh—" Of course. Karl raised a hand. "Never mind. I take it you've found some sulfur, too."

"You got it. No willows around here. But oak seems to work okay."

Take the crystals of saltpeter from underneath any well-aged pile of excrement, add sulfur and powdered charcoal in the right proportions, and voila!—gunpowder. Well, it was probably a bit trickier than that, but not much.

Maybe I'm not going to be needing longbows, after all.  

"It was Riccetti's idea. He remembered reading that Cortez used bat guano to make gunpowder."

"I didn't know Lou was a historian."

"Only when it comes to making things." Slovotsky nodded. "He's already made some gunpowder—stinks to high heaven when it burns—and I'm working on a flintlock right now."

Slovotsky caught himself as they stopped in front of the cabin's door. "Later; we'll have plenty of time. She's in there, Karl." Slovotsky waved as he jogged off. "I'd better go see Kirah. We've been fattening a calf."

Karl opened the door and walked in.

The cabin was well kept, from the burnished wood of the floor to the ceiling timbers, hung with unlit oil lamps. A beaded curtain covered a doorway on the opposite wall.

On the right-hand wall, a rough table stood beneath a mottled glass window. On the left-hand wall, a pot of stew burbled merrily in the stone fireplace.

Two huge wooden chairs stood side by side in front of the fireplace, both with blankets padding their seats. The arms of one chair was stained with nicks and sweat marks; the other looked new, unused.

He unbuckled his sword and hung it over the back of the newer chair.

"Who is it?" She pushed through the curtain, a wicker basket filled with clothes in her arms. Her eyes grew wide. "Hi."

"Hello."

He wanted to reach out, to run to her, but he couldn't. There was an almost palpable distance between them. The months of separation had changed her, changed both of them.

Worry lines had begun to form around her eyes. Her hair was tangled, matted down. It wasn't just that she looked more than a few months older. Her smile was strained.

He could see her looking at the changes in his face, not sure that she liked what she saw.

There had been a time when Karl took the world lightly, even while he took it seriously. A time when he could push the darkness away, when he could dismiss it, if only for a while, not merely pretend that it didn't exist. There had been a time when Karl had been basically a gentle man, sometimes forced into doing violent things, but always, deep inside, untouched by the violence.

That time was gone. Forever. It could never be the same between them.

The thought cut at him like a knife.

"Andy, I—" He fumbled blindly for the words. For the right words, the ones that would make everything right between them.

He couldn't find them. Maybe they didn't even exist.

"No," she shrilled. She threw the basket aside and ran to him.

As he gathered her into his arms and buried his face in her hair, he knew that he was both right and wrong. Yes, there had been changes. No, things could never be the same.

But they could be better.

After a while, he took a loose sleeve of her robe, wiped first at his own eyes, and then at hers.

She looked up at him, her eyes still tearing, still red. "Karl?"

"Yes?" He ran his fingers through her hair.

"If," she said as she rested her face against his chest, "if you ever give me another look like that, I swear I'll hit you. Don't you—"

"Shh."

*Stupid humans.* Ellegon's massive head peeked through the open door. He snorted, sending ashes from the fireplace swirling around the room. Karl raised his head. What is it now? 

*You always have to make things more complicated than necessary, don't you?*

"What are you getting at?"

*Tell her you love her, idiot.*

She pushed away from him and smiled. "Yeah. Tell me you love me, idiot." She grabbed his hand. "But later. I've got someone for you to meet."

She pulled him through the beaded curtain and into the bedroom.

Under the murky window, a cradle lay. It was a plain wood box, mounted on two wooden rockers.

He peered inside.

"Don't wake him," she whispered. "It's a pain to get him back to sleep."

The baby, wrapped in a gray cotton diaper, slept peacefully on the soft blankets. Karl reached out a hand and gently touched the child's soft cheek. Still asleep, the baby turned his head to nuzzle Karl's fingers.

Karl pulled his hand back. "He's so . . . small."

"That's your opinion." She snorted. "He sure as hell didn't feel that way when I was flat on my back in labor. But he'll grow."

"How old is he?"

"Just under two months." Andy-Andy slipped an arm around Karl's waist. "I named him Jason, after Jason Parker. I hope that's okay; we didn't decide on a name before you left, so . . ."

"The name's fine."

"I did good?"

"Andy, he's beautiful."

*He takes after his mother. Fortunately.*

Back | Next
Contents
Framed

Back | Next
Contents

PART FIVE:
Home

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Jason

Home is where one starts from. As we grow older
The world becomes stranger, the pattern more complicated
Of dead and living. Not the intense moment
Isolated, with no before and after,
But a lifetime burning in every moment . . . 

—T. S. Eliot

Tennetty kicked Pirate into a canter, coming even with Karl, then slowing her horse down to a walk.

Carrot whinnied, lifting her feet a bit higher as Karl rode her through the tall grasses.

"Easy, Carrot." He patted her neck, then glared at Tennetty. "Don't do that—she likes to be out in front."

She shrugged. It was possible that Tennetty could have cared less about something than she did about what Carrot wanted or didn't want, but only barely. "How long?"

Fine. On this trip, I didn't have Slovotsky asking "Are we there yet?" all the damn time. Instead, I've got Tennetty asking "How long is it going to be?" Three times in the morning, four in the afternoon, twice when we're sitting around the campfire in the evening. I could set my watch by her. If I had a watch. 

It had taken a couple of weeks on the newly named Ganness' Revenge to arrive at the little fishing village of Hindeyll, then weeks of travel on the Pandathaway–Metreyll road to get to the Waste, another month to skirt the Waste and cross into the outskirts of Therranj.

Of course, we could have cut out some time if we hadn't jumped those slavers near Wehnest. Backtracking to chase them down must have cost us a week. At least. Not a bad raid, though; it had added a sackful of coin, three horses, and another member to their party.

Peill was a nice addition to the group; Karl had never met anyone with such a talent for tracking as the elf.

He turned to see the tall elf riding next to Ahira's pony, Chak and Aeia on the dwarf's other side, while Ahira continued the English lesson.

Guess this stuff about elves and dwarves not getting along doesn't apply when the dwarf is the one who shatters the elf's chains.  

Peill's skills with a longbow could come in handy, particularly if he could teach others to use it. The trouble with the crossbows was that their rate of fire was just too damn low, although they did have the advantage of greater accuracy.

But from ambush, a few good longbowmen might be able to finish off a group of slavers before they even knew that they were under attack.

Then again, it would be hard for a longbowman to conceal himself; a crossbowman could shoot while prone, or from a perch in a tree. . . .

Well, it was something to think about, anyway. Maybe talk over with Chak.

But I can do that later. We're almost home, and we all deserve a vacation.  

"I asked you, 'How long?' " Tennetty glared at him. "If you're going deaf, you can damn well count me out of the next trip."

Perhaps twenty miles across the plain, the ground sloped upward into an area of blackened, burned ground. Beyond that, the valley lay.

"I figure we'll get there sometime tomorrow."

It was almost over. For now. But only for now.

Karl sighed. I'm never going to be done with blood. Not until the day I die. 

*Then again, if you don't learn to keep your eyes open while you're feeling sorry for yourself, that could be anytime now.*

"Ellegon!" He scanned the sky. Nothing but clouds, and a few birds to the east. Where are you? 

*Try behind you.*

Karl turned in the saddle; above and behind him, a familiar shape dropped out of the blue sky.

*I usually come this way on the returning leg of my patrol,* the dragon said.

Both Carrot and Pirate snorted and held their ground as the dragon landed; the other horses galloped away in different directions, their riders vainly trying to control the animals' panic.

Tennetty swore as she struggled with Pirate's reins. "Easy, now. Easy, damn you. The idiot dragon's just trying to scare you, not eat you."

*Good to see you too, Tennetty.*

"Try giving a little warning next time."

"Cut the crap, both of you," Karl snapped. "Ellegon, how is Andy-Andy? And the baby?"

A gout of fire roared into the sky. *Took you long enough to ask.*

Don't play games with me, Ellegon.  

*Both your wife and son are fine.*

My son. Karl shook his head. If ever anyone wished for a daughter . . . "You stay away from my son, Deighton," he whispered. "Just leave him alone."

Across the plain, Aeia and Chak had reined their horses down to a canter, while Ahira's and Peill's mounts still galloped away.

"Just as well," Tennetty said. "Might teach them all something about keeping their animals under control." She patted at Pirate's neck, then held out a hand to Karl. "Give me your reins."

"Huh?"

She jerked a thumb at the dragon. "I think you might be able to persuade Ellegon to give you a ride the rest of the way home. I'll gather the others together and bring them all in sometime tomorrow."

It was tempting, but . . . "I'd better stay." The group was Karl's responsibility, until they got home. He could relax then.

*Idiot.*

"Idiot," Tennetty echoed. She rolled her eyes, looking toward heaven for reassurance. "Ellegon, explain to Karl how his wife would feel about his being gone a day longer than necessary."

*Well . . . I don't think Andrea would exactly appreciate it. She's been a bit worried; she was hoping you'd be back by now.*

"You sure things are safe around here?"

*I was just finishing my patrol, Karl.* The dragon pawed at the grass. *Though you could be right, come to think of it. I smell a nest of rabbits somewhere around here; maybe your whole party will get eaten if you're not here to protect them. If it will make you happy, I'll be willing to fly back and baby-sit Ahira and the rest after I drop you off at home.*

"The reins, please." Tennetty snapped her fingers. "Get moving."

He laughed. "You win." He jumped from Carrot's saddle, tossing the reins to Tennetty. "See you tomorrow," he said, climbing up to Ellegon's back.

The dragon's wings began to beat, moving faster and faster until they were only a blur, whipping so much grass and dust into the air that Karl had to close his eyes.

Ellegon leaped skyward. *I've got strict instructions about where to set you down,* he said, as the ground dropped away beneath them.

As they passed over Chak and Aeia, Karl returned their waves. Ellegon? 

*Be quiet for a while; I'm going to put on some speed.* His wings began to work even faster, the wind drawing tears out of Karl's eyes.

Karl put his head to the dragon's rough hide and held on.

*Almost home.* The rush of wind slowed.

Karl raised his head. They were flying over what had been a burned rise leading to the valley. It had become even more green; soon, the evidence that a fire had once burned would be gone.

The valley spread out below. When Karl had left, the encampment had been one wooden wall, a stone fireplace, and two wagons.

There had been some changes. More than thirty log cabins spread out along the shore of the lake, several of them with split-rail corrals for horses and cattle.

Children scampered around a wooden dock that jutted out from the shore, pausing momentarily in their play to wave to Ellegon as the dragon passed overhead.

Where there had been only forest, there now were fields, stalks of corn, and seas of wheat waving in the breeze.

The fortifications had been completed; they now enclosed a group of five houses, one with a slow-turning waterwheel. Ellegon dove toward the bare-dirt courtyard, braking with his wings.

Mill?  

*Yes. Riccetti has done well, no?*

You've all done well.  

Deftly avoiding the network of hollowed half-logs that piped water to the five houses, the dragon landed inside the walls. Karl dismounted.

*Welcome home.*

To his right, a familiar face peeked out of an open-sided cabin whose chimney puffed smoke into the air. Walter Slovotsky, wearing a leather apron and carrying a smith's hammer, ran into the courtyard, dropping the hammer as he ran.

"Karl." Slovotsky stuck out a hand, drew it back, shaking his head. "To hell with it." He threw his arms around Karl.

"Dammit, you're breaking my back," Karl said, untangling himself.

Slovotsky chuckled. "Fat chance." He turned. "Kirah! They're—" He caught himself. "Is everyone—?"

"We lost Fialt, but the rest of us are fine." Except for Rahff. I wish he'd gotten the chance to— 

*Later, Karl, later. Homecoming is supposed to be a happiness.*

You know a lot about happiness?  

*I'm learning, Karl. Walter, take him to her.*

Slovotsky led Karl toward a cabin on the far side of the courtyard, talking nonstop as they walked. "I wish we'd known you were getting back today. Lou's taken a party to the far side of the valley. He found a cave full of bats a couple of months ago, and we're finally getting them all cleared out."

"Bats?" Karl removed his hand from the hilt of his sword. "Some sort of trouble?"

"No." Slovotsky laughed. "Just garden-variety fruit bats. They can give you a nasty bite, but Thellaren—he's our cleric—can fix you right up."

"Cleric?"

"Spidersect. Showed up one day, half starved; seems he had some trouble with the Therranji. Does one hell of a business, although Andy and I had to reason with him about rates. The bastard was charging—"

"Then why clear out the bats?"

Slovotsky smiled knowingly. "Think about it. What are bats good at making?"

"Baby bats, and bat sh—" Of course. Karl raised a hand. "Never mind. I take it you've found some sulfur, too."

"You got it. No willows around here. But oak seems to work okay."

Take the crystals of saltpeter from underneath any well-aged pile of excrement, add sulfur and powdered charcoal in the right proportions, and voila!—gunpowder. Well, it was probably a bit trickier than that, but not much.

Maybe I'm not going to be needing longbows, after all.  

"It was Riccetti's idea. He remembered reading that Cortez used bat guano to make gunpowder."

"I didn't know Lou was a historian."

"Only when it comes to making things." Slovotsky nodded. "He's already made some gunpowder—stinks to high heaven when it burns—and I'm working on a flintlock right now."

Slovotsky caught himself as they stopped in front of the cabin's door. "Later; we'll have plenty of time. She's in there, Karl." Slovotsky waved as he jogged off. "I'd better go see Kirah. We've been fattening a calf."

Karl opened the door and walked in.

The cabin was well kept, from the burnished wood of the floor to the ceiling timbers, hung with unlit oil lamps. A beaded curtain covered a doorway on the opposite wall.

On the right-hand wall, a rough table stood beneath a mottled glass window. On the left-hand wall, a pot of stew burbled merrily in the stone fireplace.

Two huge wooden chairs stood side by side in front of the fireplace, both with blankets padding their seats. The arms of one chair was stained with nicks and sweat marks; the other looked new, unused.

He unbuckled his sword and hung it over the back of the newer chair.

"Who is it?" She pushed through the curtain, a wicker basket filled with clothes in her arms. Her eyes grew wide. "Hi."

"Hello."

He wanted to reach out, to run to her, but he couldn't. There was an almost palpable distance between them. The months of separation had changed her, changed both of them.

Worry lines had begun to form around her eyes. Her hair was tangled, matted down. It wasn't just that she looked more than a few months older. Her smile was strained.

He could see her looking at the changes in his face, not sure that she liked what she saw.

There had been a time when Karl took the world lightly, even while he took it seriously. A time when he could push the darkness away, when he could dismiss it, if only for a while, not merely pretend that it didn't exist. There had been a time when Karl had been basically a gentle man, sometimes forced into doing violent things, but always, deep inside, untouched by the violence.

That time was gone. Forever. It could never be the same between them.

The thought cut at him like a knife.

"Andy, I—" He fumbled blindly for the words. For the right words, the ones that would make everything right between them.

He couldn't find them. Maybe they didn't even exist.

"No," she shrilled. She threw the basket aside and ran to him.

As he gathered her into his arms and buried his face in her hair, he knew that he was both right and wrong. Yes, there had been changes. No, things could never be the same.

But they could be better.

After a while, he took a loose sleeve of her robe, wiped first at his own eyes, and then at hers.

She looked up at him, her eyes still tearing, still red. "Karl?"

"Yes?" He ran his fingers through her hair.

"If," she said as she rested her face against his chest, "if you ever give me another look like that, I swear I'll hit you. Don't you—"

"Shh."

*Stupid humans.* Ellegon's massive head peeked through the open door. He snorted, sending ashes from the fireplace swirling around the room. Karl raised his head. What is it now? 

*You always have to make things more complicated than necessary, don't you?*

"What are you getting at?"

*Tell her you love her, idiot.*

She pushed away from him and smiled. "Yeah. Tell me you love me, idiot." She grabbed his hand. "But later. I've got someone for you to meet."

She pulled him through the beaded curtain and into the bedroom.

Under the murky window, a cradle lay. It was a plain wood box, mounted on two wooden rockers.

He peered inside.

"Don't wake him," she whispered. "It's a pain to get him back to sleep."

The baby, wrapped in a gray cotton diaper, slept peacefully on the soft blankets. Karl reached out a hand and gently touched the child's soft cheek. Still asleep, the baby turned his head to nuzzle Karl's fingers.

Karl pulled his hand back. "He's so . . . small."

"That's your opinion." She snorted. "He sure as hell didn't feel that way when I was flat on my back in labor. But he'll grow."

"How old is he?"

"Just under two months." Andy-Andy slipped an arm around Karl's waist. "I named him Jason, after Jason Parker. I hope that's okay; we didn't decide on a name before you left, so . . ."

"The name's fine."

"I did good?"

"Andy, he's beautiful."

*He takes after his mother. Fortunately.*

Back | Next
Contents
Framed