Chapter Twenty-Five

            Believe me, if I'd know how completely awful I would feel the next morning after my little drinking episode, I would have sworn off liquor for the rest of my life while I was on that plane! The buzzing of the alarm pulsated through my brain as it went off at five o' clock the next morning. I snapped it off quickly, moaning, "Oh my god… my head, Paul, my head…ooh…my stomach!"

            Paul rolled over and looked at me confusedly in the dim morning light. "Well, that's what you get for going on a bender," he said, closing his eyes again. "God…just ten minutes more and I'll get up."

            "You go ahead," I muttered. "My mouth feels like an old sweaty gym sock …I think I'll just go ahead and die right here and now…you go on home without me…give my regards to Alice and Peter on your way there." I rolled over and buried my face between our two pillows.

            "Listen, sweets, the best thing for you to do is get up and get something to drink," Paul said. "And I don't mean more rum…go find some juice or water for yourself. You need fluids if you want to shake this off."

            "Urgh…if I eat or drink I'll ralph," I said, rolling face-up again and rubbing my throbbing head. "Remind me to never do that again, will you?"

            "Never do that again," he repeated like a myna bird, bending his knees and sitting up in bed a little bit. "If you only knew what you said to me last night…"

            "I don't even want to," I said, screwing up my eyes tightly to shut out the sunlight and whatever slight memories I could recall from the previous evening. "Whatever it was, I'm sure I'd be glad I didn't remember it. Shit…this is terrible."

            There was a knock on the door just then. "Paul? Laurie?" I heard Brian say. "It's five, you know…We've already got breakfast on the table downstairs."

            "We know, Brian," Paul said loudly. I clamped my hands over my ears--to me it had sounded louder than if he had grabbed a gong and was banging on it with a wooden mallet right next to my weary ears. "We'll be downstairs in a little while."

            "Okay…the others are already awake. They'd like to say goodbye to Laurie," he said.

            I opened my eyes and stared at the clock. "Oh, great," I said. "This is the last time I'll ever see the others, and I'm messed up."

            Paul tied his robe around him. "I'm going to go get you some juice," he said. "Please get up and go get in the shower so we can leave on time."

            "Okay, okay…" I said, struggling to sit up. "I feel like I've had the crap kicked out of me."

            He closed the door behind him, and I slowly got to my feet. I stood up for about two seconds, thinking about that glass of orange juice he'd probably bring up to me. As long as it isn't cranberry juice, I thought. That junk makes my mouth feel like a prune--

            I got a very sickening taste in my mouth, and I sprang across the room to the bathroom and proceeded to bring up everything in my stomach within about thirty seconds. I swear I was waiting for my feet to come out of my mouth I'd brought so much up!

            "Okay, God, you win, you win," I murmured incoherently as I flushed the toilet, closed the lid, and rested my head against its cool surface for a moment. "I'll never talk mean about the nuns again…I'll never tease Claire again…I'll never lie to my parents again…I won't think anymore lustful thoughts about Paul…I really won't think anymore lustful thoughts about him, please…"

            God must not have liked me very much, because even after my desperate pleas he sent me another round of nausea that lasted another five minutes. "God, you're not helping me very much here," I said between heaves.

            At long last, my penance was paid, and I felt the slightest bit ready to get to my feet and hop in the shower. I turned the water up as hot as it would go so I could get the aches out of my body, which it did help with. I was combing through my hair when I heard the bedroom door close.

            "Laurie? How's it going?" Paul asked me, tapping on the door lightly. "I don't hear the shower running…"

            "I'm already done…you can come in," I said, unlocking the bathroom door. He poked his head inside the room and, after helping me to my feet, handed me a tall glass of orange juice. I made a face as I realized how much effort it was going to take to keep that whole drink down!

            "Now you drink every drop of this," he said, watching as I took a sip of the pulpy drink that matched the color of the hideous new shag carpeting in the living room of Anna's house. "And before we even set foot out of that living room downstairs, you're going to drink another glass."

            "No-o-o," I whined, managing to down half the glass before turning back to my beauty routine. "I'll get sick again."

            "Why? Were you worshipping the Porcelain God while I was gone?" he laughed, pointing to the toilet.

            "Shut the hell up," I said, giving him a dirty look. "I'd like to see you get that sick."

            "Ha!" he said. "I've been there more than once, Laurie! Drinking used to be our favorite pastime…that's why I know what to do when someone's hung over."

            I finished the rest of the glass of juice as I got dressed, and I actually did feel somewhat better after a little while. At least I'd be able to make the plane trip home. If I felt sick, they had barf bags on the plane, so I could just chalk it up to motion sickness if anyone asked.

            Paul carried our suitcases downstairs as I finished dressing in my green corduroy skirt and a white blouse. Through the open doorway, I could hear the voices of the others floating up the stairway to my room. I'd miss the sound of that, that sound of British voices chattering away.

            After his last trip with the cases, Paul stood in the doorway. "Are you ready? You do know you're going to drink one more glass before we go."

            I nodded. "I know…I do feel better already, though."

            "Trust me, you'll need one more glass," he said. "Did you pack up everything? You did get all your things out of the bathroom, right?"

            "Yes, I did, Dad," I said, making a face.

            "And you have your ring on?" he said, checking my right hand for that blue-stoned beauty that had cause so much commotion earlier in the week.

            I nodded, holding up my arm. "Yep…I have everything with me," I said as I shut off the table lamp and took one more look around the room. Within a few hours the entire house would be as quiet as that room was at that moment, I thought as I closed the door behind me and followed Paul downstairs. We'd all be on our way to the rest of our lives.

            Six smiling faces at the breakfast table greeted me after I set my purse by the front door. An absolutely delectable breakfast had been prepared for everyone; I swear there must have been ten platters of all different kinds of delights spread across the center of the table! Scrambled eggs--both plain and some with ham and cheese mixed in--toasted wheat bread, bacon, sausage, blueberry pancakes, French toast, waffles, coffee cake, all sorts of ripe fruit…and I didn't feel like eating a bite of it! At least the others would eat my share for me. They were piling as much food onto their plates as they possibly could and chattering away excitedly about getting home to London. God, it felt like the Last Supper or something! I felt like I should say some sort of prayer at the meal, knowing full well in the back of my mind that it would be the last one I'd share with them.

            "Ugh," I muttered, sitting down at one of the chairs at the end of the table. "George, could you pass me a piece of toast?"

            He raised an eyebrow as he handed me the bread. "That's all you're going to eat?" he asked, turning away from the conversations at the opposite end of the table.

            I nodded, tugging at the crusts on the bread. "I feel sick," I said. "That's the last time I'll ever drink so much again…"

            Shrugging, George passed the pitcher of orange juice to me. "Paul recommended that you have another glass before you leave."

            "I know," I nodded, filling the glass in front of me nearly to the brim with the drink. "He's looking out for me…"

            "He's worried about you," George said, cutting his pancakes into neat little triangles and drowning them in the cinnamon-colored syrup in a glass bottle. "We all could tell you looked a bit in the bag yesterday when we got back to the house."

            "You got that right," I laughed lightly before taking a long drink of orange juice. "Mmm…I'm feeling better already, though."

            "That's good."

            I leaned one arm on the table and rested my chin in my upturned palm. "So…what are you going to do when you get home?"

            "Trip to India," he replied right away.

            "India? Why?"

            "Something different," he said between bites of pancake. "I've wanted to do it for a long time, and now I'll have the time on my hands to do it. I think it'll be interesting."

            I thought about it for a moment. "Yeah, that might be neat to see," I said, looking out the window. "I've been a lot of places, but nowhere in Asia…just to Europe and Australia…I've always wanted to do lots of traveling…Is Pattie going with you?"

            He nodded. "Yes…we'll probably stay there for at least a few weeks."

            Ringo, who was sitting next to George, turned his attention to our conversation just then. "I'll be glad to just get home and put me feet up," he laughed. "Laur, could you pass the juice?"

            I handed him the pitcher. "No trips in the works?"

            "Nope. I'll be at home with Mo and the baby," he said.

            Ohhh…that's right! I always forgot that Ringo was also a Beatle Dad, not just John! I think it was because Ringo was never asked about it that much.

            I smiled. "He's a lucky kid to have such a great dad," I said.

            "Yeah, when I’m around," Ringo said. "But…at least now I'll have some time to just be at home and not worry about things for a while…maybe I'll become a gardener."

            "I don't know about that…it's almost fall," I laughed. "You're not going to be able to grow very much."

            Ringo snapped his fingers in an oh-darn type of motion. "Well, I'm sure I'll figure out something to do…maybe I can even sleep a little bit now instead of sitting up all night with a case of the nerves."

            "Hmph…you'll be sleeping while I'll be spending some long, lonely nights at Rosary working on papers and projects," I scoffed. "I am not looking forward to that at all, even though I'm almost done with my undergraduate work."

            George and Ringo gave each other the slightest little odd look, then turned their attention back to me as George said, "Ah, you'll make it, Laurie."

            "I hope so," I said, twisting my class ring around my finger. "I've worked way too hard on this to give up now…nothing in the world is going to stand in my way of that diploma."

            Ringo nodded slowly, and George turned his head to look straight at Paul, who had apparently been following our conversation from the opposite end of the table. Okay; what was with all this goofy unspoken Beatle gesture-talking? Something was going on that I was obviously being left out of…

            "Well, Paul…don't you think you two should be leaving? It's four minutes to six," George remarked loudly above the other conversation.

            "Oh my! Yes," Paul said, checking his watch and, seeing that it indeed was already that late, just about leaped up from the table and yanked his suit coat off of the back of the chair. Everyone else rose to their feet a few moments later to follow us to the doorway, like a Beatle conga line, one right behind the other. The waterworks inside my eyes started running as soon as I stood up.

            Ringo turned to look at me and said, "Oh, no; don't cry, Laurie!"

            "I can't help it," I said, sniffling, realizing that this was it, another sudden goodbye just like the one last winter had been. "I'll miss everyone so much…This has just been the best time of my life!"

            He turned and gave me a hug. "Hanging out with a bunch of college puddin's from Liverpool isn't something to brag about," he laughed as we stepped away from each other.

            "Oh yes it is!" I said. "But it's not as if anyone would believe something like this. I never even tried telling anyone else about you guys visiting Pine Lake last year. I don't think anyone would take me seriously."

            George hugged me next and said, "Tell your mum and dad hello for us."

            "I will," I said, wiping away the tear streaks on my face.

            "And that little sister of yours, too," John said before we embraced.

            "How could I forget?" I laughed. "She's going to pester me for the next week for any details I didn't tell her on the phone!"

            I hugged Neil, and he kissed me on the cheek. "Bye, Little Sister," he smiled. "It's been wonderful having you with us."

            "Okay, Big Brother," I giggled. "You make sure they all behave themselves on the plane home."

            "That's quite an undertaking, you know," he remarked, crossing his arms in front of himself.

            Brian hugged me goodbye as well. "Well, Laurie, I hope you've enjoyed the trip," he said.

            "Oh, believe me, I have," I said. "I don't know how to begin to thank you, Mr. Epstein. It's just been an absolutely wonderful three weeks!"

            "It's been splendid to have you along for the trip," he said. "And you can tell your mum and dad that you behaved yourself brilliantly the entire time."

            "I'm sure they'll enjoy hearing that," I laughed. "They were so worried about that before I left!"

            And then there was Paul next to Brian, holding the front door open. "So…I'll see everyone at the airport in Chicago, then?" he double-checked.

            Brian nodded. "The car will be sent to Laurie's house about an hour before our flight lands there," he said.

            "Okay," Paul said. "Ready, luv?"

            I turned to take another one of those long last looks at the line of Beatles standing there at the doorway, all of them still half-asleep yet looking very rested and peaceful. This was how I would remember them, off the stage and out of the fancy stage costumes, just a bunch of regular guys who happened to hit the big time through some very lucky turns of events. I knew then that I'd probably never see all of them gathered together again, especially now that they were done touring for the time being…but something else told me that this was definitely the end of something…maybe the end of my childhood, at that point, but it felt like something much more than something as simple and stupid as that.

            "I'm ready," I barely breathed, managing a smile as I turned to follow Paul out the door.

            "Bye, Laurie!" I heard a chorus of voices behind me shout out.

            "Bye, guys!" I cried back, not wanting to turn around and burst into tears all over again. The door closed behind me, and all I heard after that was the engine of the car waiting to take me and Paul to the airport.

            Paul held the car door open for me, and I sat down, sliding my sunglasses onto my face. Traffic wouldn't be too terrible yet since it was so early in the morning, but we did have to get moving if we wanted to beat the morning crunch on the highways.

            Paul sat down next to me in the back seat as the driver pulled out of the driveway. "One more flight and you'll be home, luv," he said, stretching his arm around the back of the seat.

            "I know," I remarked, biting back the tears. And I'd be leaving him forever, too…

            Like I'd predicted, our sojourn to the airport wasn't too bad at all. We made it to the terminals with nearly fifteen minutes to spare. Paul seemed a little nervous about sitting in the middle of a crowded waiting room before we could board the plane. He didn't have much of a disguise to wear that day--really only a pair of dark sunglasses, and nothing to hide his Beatle moptop. The moment the attendants opened the doors for the tarmac, we jumped up from our seats on the hard plastic chairs near a window and hurried to the plane. Our two seats were near the back of the coach section, which wouldn't be too bad for us as long as we didn't do a lot of getting up and walking around during the flight.

            I stashed my carry-on bag above our seats and sank down into the plush softness of the chair in back of me. It must have been a newer plane--the seats felt like they'd never been sat in before. I glanced at my watch, realizing that we still had about twenty more minutes before the plane would take off and bring me back to a miserably muggy afternoon in Chicago.

            Paul fiddled with the serving tray folded up into the back of the seat in front of us, then asked me, "Still feel tired?"

            I nodded. "I feel like I've been dragged through the desert on the back of a horse for three weeks with no water and no food," I sighed, letting my eyelids droop down to block out the sunlight coming through the window. "What a time I'll have telling Cheryl and Anna that I got plastered on my last night out of town…"

            I think I drifted off to sleep even before the plane left the ground in California, because the next thing I remembered was the plane nearly shaking me out of my seat. I jolted awake and instinctively grabbed for the straps of my seat belt, ready to click the locks shut, but I already had it buckled across me. A quick glance out the window and I discovered we were flying through some dark gray clouds, creating the impression that we were gliding through a night-like sky. Paul was still next to me, scribbling out words on one of those sheets of paper that he and John had been dragging around with them for weeks.

            "Jee-sus…" he muttered after the plane stopped jouncing us around. "We hit that air pocket and everything went flying."

            "Did it?" I asked, stretching my arms above me as far as I could.

            "The poor stewardess had to go racing down the aisle to catch the drink cart," he laughed softly. "I think a lady up there got a big splash of vodka all over her!"

            "That would be a bit of a mess," I said, watching as he tried to organize his own mess. "Do you have any idea exactly where we're at?"

            "In a plane, ya fool," he deadpanned.

            "Well, no shit, Sherlock…but where in the U.S?"

            "The U.S? Oh, no; we're on the wrong flight. The plane turned west and it's on its way to Australia," he said, winking deviously. "Illinois, luv…that was the last the pilot said."

            "I slept for nearly five hours?" I squeaked. "Boy, is my sleeping pattern going to be messed up…and the jet lag on top of it…they're just gonna love dealing with me at home for the next few days. So, we're in the middle of a bit of a storm, are we?"

            Paul nodded. "The people around us have been chatting about delays at the airport," he said.

            "Ugh. Well, if there's one thing I haven't missed, it's all this lousy rain," I said, watching as the raindrops hit the windows in bursting spatters every few seconds. "It's raining up here, and it'll be raining down there at home when we get off the plane."

            "Can't do much about that," he said, closing his eyes and leaning back in his seat. "And you think you're going to have jet-lag? I still have to go halfway around the world to get home."

            "You're not going to just dump me at the airport, right?"

            He shook his head. "There'll be a car waiting for us when we get off the plane. I'll see you to the door; that way your parents won't have to worry."

            I snickered. "You are probably the last person I should be traveling with if I'm supposed to be completely safe from every evil," I barely whispered so no one around us would hear.

            "Oh, come off it…"

            Surprisingly, the runway at O'Hare Airport was bone-dry when our 747 touched down about half an hour later. The rain hadn't hit the Chicago area yet, but I knew what we'd be in for on the drive north to Pine Lake. The dark gray clouds we'd just flown out of loomed suspiciously against the western horizon, almost ready to block out the gleaming afternoon sunshine.

            "I should have brought my rain coat with me on the plane," I remarked as I followed Paul in the slow shuffle to leave the cramped interior of the jetliner. "I don't want to end up sick again if we have to stand in the rain at the terminal doors to look for this car."

            "You'll be fine," Paul reassured me just before we paced down the steep staircase and onto the tarmac. Already I could feel the humidity in the air, and the invisible heat waves shimmering off the sun-baked tarmac weren't making things any easier to deal with. "Where's the wind in the Windy City when you need it?" I remarked, following Paul inside the terminal.

            He shrugged, quickly surveying the area for any signs leading to the baggage claim area. "What a crowded mess," he muttered, shoving past people who obviously couldn't give a damn that he was a Beatle and he was in a hurry!

            "Flight delays because of the weather," I explained as we turned a corner. "It happens…"

            Boy, for the amount of time that we sat in front of that lousy baggage claim, you would've thought that my luggage had been rerouted to New Delhi! Everyone else from our flight had found their bags and was long gone from the people-packed area about twenty minutes later, just about the same time I was ready to call George on the phone and tell him to look for my cases at the airport in India when he got there for his vacation!

            "Paul, I think the conveyer belt chewed up my suitcases," I whined, tapping my feet anxiously on the tile floor.

            "Not so fast," he said, rising to his feet. "I think I see them…yep…"

            He claimed my bags for me and we then had to push and shove our way for another ten minutes before we reached the terminal doors. At least one thing went right--the limousine was parked right at the curb, with a driver holding up a sign that said "Epstein" on it.

            "As in Brian?" I asked Paul.

            "Exactly," he said. The limo driver opened the door for me, and Paul said, "Go on, luv."

            Within about half a minute my cases were ensconced in the trunk of the limo--or the "boot" as Paul called it--and we were on our merry way to my house. It was still early enough in the day for us to beat the mad rush hour traffic north on the expressways, as well as the start of that nasty-looking weather.

            Cold Creek Street was rather quiet-looking as we drove through Pine Lake. I remembered then that all the neighborhood kids were back in school at that point and didn't have much time to spend frolicking outside their houses as they'd had during that summer. Gosh, in a little less than a week I'd be back in school, too!

            The limo driver unloaded my baggage in front of the house as I rummaged through my purse for my housekey, buried under mounds of garbage from three weeks of non-use.

            "I don't think anyone's home," I informed Paul as I unlocked the front door. "They would've had the welcome wagon out for me if they were here."

            "Didn't your mum say she was going to take Claire to a play in the city?"

            "Yep…she must have picked Claire up right from school and drove into the city," I said thoughtfully. We carried my cases into the foyer. "Mom? Claire-bear?…they're not here."

            I ventured into the kitchen as Paul closed the front door. I found three pieces of paper waiting for me on the table. Picking one up, I read

Laurie, we went downtown to see the Merchant of Venice. Dad will be home around nine tonight--some big-deal meeting with Mr. V.

Claire

p.s. Did you hear about this???

At the end of the p.s., she'd drawn an arrow across the page to point at the newspaper article she'd left for me. "'Young Beatle Fan Recovers,'" I read aloud.

            The snippet was all about a girl named Karen Kepplewhitt and how she'd fallen off the back of the Beatles' car at an airport.

            "Oh wow! It's the purse girl!" I said, realizing who it was. "Thank god--she's alive!…Hey, Paul, get a load of this!"

            He walked into the room just then. "Hmm?"

            I offered him the article, and he began scanning through it.

            "Remember?" I said. "The girl that fell off the back of the car? The one I thought must have busted her head wide open?"

            "Oh! Okay…well, she's all right, then," he said, setting the inky newsprint onto the table. "What's the other note?"

            The other note said:

Laurie--

Dinner tomorrow night across the street with the Carlisles (new family that moved into the old Grueber house).

Mom

            "One day back and I'm already pressed with dinner engagements…" I said, putting my hand to my forehead dramatically.

            "Oh, the trials and tribulations of being a silver spoon," Paul laughed. "And I suppose the Astors will be over for cocktails at seven tonight?"

            "Naturally," I said in a posh accent. "Then we're dining at the club and going for a round of golf afterwards."

            I gave him a light smack on the arm. "I am just parched…do you want a drink?"

            "Sure…no rum for you, though."

            "I'm not even going to dignify that one with a laugh," I muttered, opening the icebox door and scanning the contents. "It's either orange juice or milk."

            "Juice," he replied, nervously tapping his fingers on the tabletop and looking at the clock.

            "What's with you? You got a hot date?" I laughed. "Sit down for a little while--you don't need to race back to the airport already."

            We sat at the table and drank our juice in silence. All I heard for those five minutes was the tick…tick…tick…of the clock on the wall above the stove, the birds chirping through the kitchen window that obviously my mother had neglected to close despite the threat of inclement weather, and the sound of someone's gas-powered lawnmower humming in the distance. I rested my chin in the palm of my hand, leaning against the tabletop and slowly breathing in all the fresh air and the scent of newly-trimmed greenery.

            "I'll miss this quiet…It never gets this quiet at Rosary," I murmured, closing my eyes tiredly. "Want to go outside in the yard for a while? I could use a breath of air before all this rain starts."

            Paul nodded as he downed the last of the juice, then handed me the empty glass. He looked outwards and upwards through the window at the clouds hanging over the house. "Ick," he said. "There's some rain on the way, I would guess."

            "You mean that whole plane trip through the storm and all wasn't clue enough for you?" I said, shrugging. "Don't worry--we're just going into the yard. We're not walking forty miles away or anything…come on…"

            No sooner did we step out the screened sun porch doors than I heard the low rumble of thunder in the west. "It always rains at this time of day in September," I remarked, walking on the newly-mown grass. "I'd end up drenched on the way home from school sometimes on days like this."

            Paul smiled, taking in the surroundings. "This is beautiful," he said, "even in low sunlight…and you right in front of it all."

            He wrapped his arms around me from behind and rested his chin on my right shoulder. I felt so secure every time he held me like that, so at ease, like we were the only two people in the world at that moment that could ever feel so good.

            "I wish you could hold me like this for the rest of our lives," I said, looking down at the ground. "I think I could be happy forever."

            Just then a splash of water hit my nose, and I could see the raindrops falling and bouncing onto the gazebo roof with tiny soft taps, as well as pattering against the leaves of all the plants in the garden. Whoever had been running the lawnmower switched it off abruptly; the sound was cut off as if it had been snipped with scissors.

            "Why in God's name you'd decide to mow your lawn when it looks like monsoon season…" I laughed, breaking free from Paul's arms. "That is such a waste of time."

            The rain was already falling steadily. I had wet splotches on my shoulders, and Paul's hair was slowly getting plastered down against his forehead.

            "We're both going to look like drowned rats," I giggled, twirling once around on my toes.

            "But hopefully you haven't locked us out of the house like Claire did," he laughed, grabbing at the hem of my skirt.

            "Hey!" I shouted, yanking the material away from him. "Behave yourself, now!"

            "Nev-aah!" he growled, lunging for me, and I let out a joyous screech, setting off for the opposite end of the yard. He was hot on my heels as I kicked my shoes off in back of me and went splashing into the cool, knee-deep waters of the creek behind the house.

            The lunatic followed me straight in once he'd pulled his own shoes and socks off, completely drowning about four inches of his trouser legs in the creek. "Are you crazy?" I giggled as he grabbed me around my waist and hoisted me off of my feet like I was flying. "You've gotta get on the plane like that, genius."

            "Then I'll just have to stay here," he said, holding me in a hover position two feet above the water. "Laur-ie's gon-na get a dunk-ing."

            "Don't you dare!" I said, still shrieking with laughter the whole time as I swung my limbs around, bobbling side to side like a teeter-totter between his hands around my hips. "Come on!"

            "No, luv; it's payback time for that pool incident in L.A," he said. Just then I bobbled too far forward and went face-first into the water. A mouthful of creek water, which I proceeded to spit out a second later, drowned my scream out. Paul was laughing hysterically.

            "You-you did it to yourself, luv! Don't look at me that way!" he warned as I glared at him, streams of water dribbling down my face and onto my nose.

            "Plech…ich…do you know what kind of bizarre diseases I'll probably get now from swallowing a few gallons of creek water?" I sputtered, still spitting out water and probably thousands of little microscopic nasties as well.

            "Well…serves you right…never wanting to swallow anything," he murmured deviously, already with his back turned to me and heading up the creek bank.

            "Oh, you!" I shouted, splashing a mini-wave of water at him. "Sicko!"

            He stuck out his tongue and made a face just as a white streak of lightning crackled across the sky above us and a tremendous clap of thunder shook the whole world a moment later. I dashed with him to the gazebo just as the rain really started pouring down in sheets so thick that I could barely manage to keep my eyes open against the stinging little drops.

            Once we were under the shelter of the sturdy gazebo roof, I finally managed to catch my breath. The rain sounded like a million miniature soldiers trip-trapping on the roof over our heads. There was only the slightest wind kicking only a few raindrops through the screens around us, though, so we were staying relatively dry in our present location.

            "And…and you're going to fly home in drenched clothes?" I heaved in and out, pushing my dripping hair away from my face. I pinched the lower part of his shirt sleeve and shook it back and forth, flapping his arm around rapidly in the process.

            "Then I shall just have to stay here forever," he breathed, stopping my teasing with a feverish kiss.

            "Don't be dumb," I whispered as his lips left mine and trailed down my neck. "No, no…this is not the time nor place to…ooh…"

            "It's the perfect time and place to start this," he said dreamily, "rain falling around us and all."

            My knees felt like jelly at that point. I could only take a few more moments before I either fell flat on the floor and let him have his way or I cried for him to carry me back to the house.

            "Yeah…now that would be something," I murmured, my arms wrapped securely about his neck. That was the only uncomfortable part of our situation--he was so much more taller than me, nearly ten inches of height difference.

            A few more kisses from him and that was it for me! My knees buckled, and he caught me with one arm wrapped protectively across my back.

            "Paul?"

            "Hmm?"

            "I'd rather…be in the house for this," I sputtered, nearly out of breath from him holding me so tightly against his body.

            "That's fine," he said, letting me go a little bit. "Come on, then."

            We approached the steps down to the lawn, and we stared at the rather flooded state of the lawn from the downpour. Huge splotches of muddy water dotted most of the yard.

            "Eeew…and I’m in good shoes, too," I said, grimacing.

            Paul tapped his shoulder with one hand. "Hop up, then, luv," he laughed.

            "My my," I grinned, leaping up onto his back and wrapping my arms around his neck. He pulled my legs around each side of him. "How noble of you, Sir Paul…"

            He splooshed his way across the yard through the swampy puddles. He set me back on my feet just before opening the sun porch screen door. A tremendous crash of thunder rattled the kitchen windows and sent the entire sunporch trembling for a few seconds.

            I pulled him into the house where we stood dripping wet, creating a massive puddle on the tile floor.

            "Eek…I'm all itchy now," I muttered, scratching my exposed arms. "This happens every time I get just a little wet from the rain…"

            "Well…while you're standing there bitching, I'm going to go find that raunchy little diary of yours and see if we can't come up with something interesting to do this afternoon," he grinned devilishly before dashing from the room in a blur.

            "No! Dammit!" I shouted, following him as quickly as I could down the hall to the stairs. Hell, that boy could run fast! He was already up the stairs by the time I reached the end of the hall.

            "Paul, I swear, you read that book and you'll be flying back to London in a body bag!" I shouted, taking two of the steps at a time. "You're worse than Claire!"

            I arrived in my room to find him just reclining patiently on my bed, a bit out of breath. "Did you really think I was going to read all your filthy little secrets?" he sort of laughed.

            "Honey, you are capable of anything," I said, flinging myself face-first across the foot of the bed. "You do realize, though, that you would have to be severely punished."

            "Indeed?" he said slyly.

            I knelt next to him. "Yep," I said, unbuttoning his top three shirt buttons. "I'm going to make you just sick from the fact that you'll be leaving me in a few hours."

            "I thought that was if I did something wrong," he said, pulling my own shirt off of my arms and sitting up to kiss my bare shoulders. "That isn't very fair."

            "Whoever said I was fair?" I said, kicking off my shoes and circling his waist with my legs. "I’m a teacher. I'm not concerned with fair--I'm concerned with quiet!"

            "You know you're not exactly the quietest one in the world," he remarked, sliding his own shoes off of his feet.

            "Well…this is a nice setup, then. No one's home…it's pouring rain so even the neighbors aren't going to hear a damn thing."

            We spent a half hour making it an afternoon I would remember for the rest of my life, every little detail. The thought that my parents could conceivably come walking through the front door at any moment couldn't deter me from making love with Paul that one last time. It was a little strange actually being with him in that way in my own bedroom where I'd spent many nights imagining him somehow sneaking into the house, past Alice and Peter, and into my room on a beautiful, moonlit night. I never thought it would ever happen in reality, though.

            The rough weather outside didn't last very long. Paul and I fell asleep for a very short nap of about twenty minutes, and when I opened my eyes again, the sun was shining everywhere outside. The world looked absolutely gorgeous from my vantage point through my bedroom window. The sun was lighting up everything in that rich golden light from the west, glinting in sparkles on the still damp lawn and leaves on the trees. There were no clouds in the eastern sky, so the quick-moving storm was probably already out over Lake Michigan by then--we get those kinds of storms all the time during late summer. Birds chirped sweetly in the trees on the far side of the yard. Any kind of human noise, except for the very occasional light humming of a propeller plane flying over the house, was still missing from the scene, since everyone was still inside their houses escaping the weather. This was my own little divine world, like there wasn't another person around for miles, and it was a glorious ending to a perfect day.

            "Paul…wake up," I said, kissing his forehead before sitting up in bed and starting to get dressed. "Come on."

            "All right," he mumbled. "Just five more minutes…"

            "That's always your excuse," I said, giving him a playful shove. "I'll be downstairs. Make sure you get up."

            I left him upstairs and headed for the living room, giddy with the fantastic feeling of that resplendent afternoon. The entire living room was lit up with that majestically-blazing sunlight slowly disappearing into the western sky beyond the rooftops of the houses on the other side of Cold Creek Street. Dazzling flecks of rainbow lights danced on the walls, streaming out from the crystal lamp by the window near the couch. The whole house seemed so open and airy and glistening, like an open palace with only blue sky and clouds for a ceiling, like anything was possible on an ephiphanous afternoon such as that.

            I spent a few minutes sitting cross-legged in front of my suitcases on the tiled hallway floor, digging through all of my wrinkled attire for the portfolio I'd purchased days ago for Paul. I'd nearly forgotten about it; it seemed like years had gone by since I'd last seen my house. Finally I found it securely nestled in my carry-on bag, right next to the purse I'd bought for my mother.

            Paul came strolling down the stairs a few moments later, buttoning his shirt cuffs closed on his still-damp clothes. "I hate to tell you this, luv, but the car is due to be here any minute," he said with sad eyes, looking down at me before he reached the hallway floor.

            I nodded, heading down the hallway for the kitchen. I really wanted badly to be outside in that sunshine when I said goodbye to him. Call it corny, but it would just be a beautiful setting out there in the yard, with everything fresh and lovely around us. He followed me through the kitchen and out the back door, no questions asked, and out the back door. I kept the portfolio concealed in front of me as we walked back outside onto the damp lawn towards the gazebo.

            "Weather cleared up nicely, didn't it, now?" Paul remarked, looking at the blue sky. "I suppose I might have to fly through that storm, though, a second time on the way to New York."

            "Possibly…though I think it's moving pretty fast," I said, scaling the steps to the gazebo. "Never can tell, though…they can fall apart, or they can gain strength as they cross over the lake and spout out tornadoes on the other side."

            We both sat at the same time on the wooden bench--thank goodness it had remained dry during the brief storm--and I set the portfolio on my lap, drumming my fingertips on it.

            "What's that?" Paul asked, motioning with a jerk of his head.

            "Well, I didn't have time to wrap this up or anything…but this is for you," I said, smiling. "Sort of in return for the guitar you gave me."

            I handed it to him, and he smiled. "Let me guess…you're tired of seeing me carry around that mess of songwriting sheets, are you, now?"

            With a giggle, I said, "Yep, I confess; that's precisely what I had in mind!"

            He opened it and admired the contents--while I was at that store in LA, I'd purchased a writing tablet, a small pad of note paper, and two nice mechanical pencils for him to use. "Believe me, luv, it'll be put to good use the moment I get back on the plane," he said, still smiling. "Thank you."

            He leaned over and kissed me, then closed the folder and set it beside him on the bench. "That car is going to be here any moment," he repeated again, tapping his foot nervously on the floor.

            "I know," I said, resting my hand on his knee. "Relax. We'll hear it pull into the driveway."

            He breathed out violently and shook his head, like he was fed up with something. Oh, no; what did I do to make him mad? I looked at him with one eyebrow raised.

            "Well, I can't take the suspense anymore," he said, tossing his hands into the air.

            Huh? "What suspense?" I questioned, a funny look on my face. "What the hell are you talking about?"

            "Laurie, luv…" he began, taking both of my hands firmly in his own and stared straight into my eyes. "Something's been on my mind for days, and I can't very well put it off any longer. If I don't do it, I'll just never know…"

            I felt all the blood drain from my face--I was sure I'd gone pale as snow! "W-what is it?" I barely managed to speak.

            He cleared his throat nervously, looked straight at me, and then said, "I want you to come with me to London."

            About ten seconds of stunned silence followed. I didn't even know how to respond to him!

            "What do you mean you want me to come with you to London?" I said. Maybe I'd made a horrible error and heard him wrong or something! He couldn't mean what he meant, did he?

            "All it would take is a few phone calls and you can come with me," he said. "Laurie, I want to marry you. We can be married tomorrow, even, if you come with me."

            He released one of my hands, which I dropped to my side, and he reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a little blue velvet box. There was such a lump welling within my throat I could barely breathe!

            "I bought this for you while we were in L.A.," he said, beaming as he opened the box. "Neil helped me choose this one for you."

            I shakily looked at the box. Nestled between two folds of dark blue velvet and below a white satin lining with "Vanderberg Jewelers" emblazoned in silver letters was a delicate diamond and sapphire engagement ring. Oh my god, that diamond was big enough to choke on! It was an oval cut, surrounded with deep blue sapphires in a lovely gold setting. It was the kind of ring you'd expect to see only on someone like Elizabeth Taylor or Zsa Zsa Gabor--never on a common gal like myself!

            "I promised myself that I'd do this only when I found the perfectly right girl for me," he explained at high speed, "and, well, this just feels so right to me, luv, that it's too strong for me to ignore, and I want to do this proper, which is only what a girl like you deserves…"

            He got down on one knee at that point, and I was just about ready to pass out! I don't think I'd breathed since I'd handed him his portfolio! My heart was in the process of setting a world record for beats per minute! And that lump in my throat had settled into my head somehow and was forcing tears out from my eyes!

            He breathed out again, then said, "Lauren Ashley Donaldson, will you be my wife?"

            I swallowed back as many tears as I possibly could, shaking all the way down to my feet. Here it was, actually happening in front of me--something that I thought was impossible, and even still seemed completely unattainable. My god…I could really, truly, actually become Laurie McCartney within twenty-four hours! Laurie McCartney…all the love and passion that came with the name…and also all the responsibilities and what could possibly be heartbreak and pain…oh god…

            It was then, at that single moment when an entirely new and foreign world of opportunity was opened to me, that I knew what my answer could only be to him, to this man that I loved so ardently…this man that I knew I would forever be heartsick over once I told him my answer.

            "Paul," I began, slowly drawing in a deep breath, "I can't."

            The smile on his face fell slowly until he was nearly frowning. With one quick motion, he snapped the blue box closed and dropped his hands to his sides, staring down at the boards on the floor below us. He looked as if I'd stabbed him straight through his heart with my words, and I felt like stabbing myself for what I'd done to him…but, unfortunately, I wasn't done yet. Surely he would ask for a reason why.

            "Well…" he said, exhaling and sitting next to me on the bench again, "I had to give it a try."

            I sat perfectly still next to him as I saw the tears welling in his eyes, and I had to look away from him. For about two minutes we were both completely silent, and at last he asked, "Am I entitled to a reason for this rejection?"

            "Oh, please, Paul, don't put it that way," I said, starting to sob. I kissed his cheek and pressed my tear-dampened lips against his face and murmured, "You know it killed me to say that to you…"

            "Then why?" he asked again, moving away from me a few inches. "Laurie, I want to be with you so badly. It's the one thing that I thought might make me happy now that we're done touring for a while. I'll be home for once; it wouldn't be like John and Cyn, where he's off circling the globe while she's at home with their baby. I always promised myself that when I did finally find the right girl I'd be the best husband the world's ever seen, Laurie."

            "I know…and I'm sure you would be," I explained quickly, wiping my tears away with my palm. "But it's more than that--"

            "Laurie, I have a beautiful house in London that is going to be sheer hell going home to," he interrupted. "It's no fun having all this money and the two cars and that posh house if I don't have someone to share it with. Whatever you want, luv, you can have it--jewelry, a car, anything. You never have to raise a finger, if you don't want."

            "Paulie, I never asked you for anything like that…I don't want anything like that."

            "What is it, then, that you want?" he pleaded.

            "Well…first off…" I began slowly, "I want to finish school at Rosary. It's my last year."

            "Luv, you don't have to bother--you don't have to work," he said. "I'm going to be there day and night to love you and take good care of you. I know it would be hard to leave your parents and your home and what you're used to, but you have me to help you."

            "No…it's not about the working," I corrected, feeling the tiniest bit more confident in my explanation. "For as long as I can remember it has just been my life goal to finish college and become a teacher. My dad, especially, has pushed me to do this. He never went to college--I'd be the first Donaldson ever to get a college education. No one in my family has ever had the opportunity to do so…and I don't want to go and throw all my years of hard work and money spent out the window when I'm this close to finishing."

            He looked at me just the slightest bit confusedly. Apparently he'd never thought that any wife of his would want a career of her own…It finally hit me that so much of the friction in his relationship with Jane had been caused by her job and her traveling around England. Well, maybe to him that was the problem…but it was just as big a problem to Jane, I was sure, that her boyfriend was touring around the world, and I was far more than certain that she'd had an inkling that he'd had more than his fair share of love affairs while he was in all those different places! I think he really expected me to be like Cynthia and Maureen and just settle contentedly into domestic bliss and have babies right away and have that become my life. Well, maybe in a few years, yes--I did want a husband, a home, and little ones eventually--but…

            "Paul, I want to know that I can be able to stand on my own two feet," I said. "With all that happens in this crazy world, things change…I want to know that I can fend for myself on my own."

            "That's silly," he said. "I'd always be there to love you."

            "But, honey, things happen," I said. "Someday you might be gone…for whatever odd reason, and I'd have to fend for myself."

            He shrugged, and I continued, "I also think it's really irrational of us to get married after only three weeks together. Paul, I barely know you."

            "You know me."

            "No, I don't," I said. "And even if I did, I can just sense a change coming for both of us. I don't know what it is…maybe it's the way you've been talking about how different your life is going to be now that you're done touring and you'll be living a rather unbusy life in London…but I'd be willing to bet you that even in just a year from now we're going to be two completely different people."

            He pocketed the ring box at that point.

            "I hate to keep spouting off all these reasons--I know this is heart-rending for you--but here's another one," I continued on, barely believing the words I heard my mind saying aloud. "What if I asked you to marry me and stay here in Chicago with me?"

            He looked off at the distance for a moment, silent. Then, finally, he managed to give me a little smile, though his tear-reddened eyes were still a dead giveaway that he was still upset over this. "It'd be a little rough," he admitted.

            I nodded. It was taking all the strength inside of me to keep from voiding all of my earlier reasons and just falling into his arms and agreeing to his proposal. "Wouldn't it?" I said. "I just don't think I'm ready for something like marriage."

            I half-expected him to come back with something like, "But Mo is even younger than you are," but he didn't. Instead, he only repeated, "Not ready for it…not ready…yet…"

            I could tell the wheels were spinning inside that head of his, trying to concoct some other plan of attack. Just then, jarring him from his thoughts, came the loud beep of a horn from in front of the house. His ride was here.

            "Shit," I muttered, getting to my feet. "I'll be right back."

            I raced across the lawn and along the north side of the house to the driveway, where I waved at the driver. "Just a minute?" I asked him, and he nodded. I scampered back to the yard, where Paul was already heading for the porch doors.

            I ran ahead of him once we were inside the house, grabbing his carry-on bag near my luggage in the hall, and opened the front door. The driver had shut off the car and come up to the door.

            "Just this," I said firmly, handing the bag to the driver. I could feel Paul's eyes practically boring holes into the back of my head at that point, and I turned around slowly to face him again. His expression seemed much happier, for whatever reason, and he actually gave me a wide grin.

            "Okay, okay," he said, pulling me into the living room. "So you don't want to do this now, today…I can live with that. How about this, though: why don't you come to me after you graduate from Rosary?"

            My eyes went wide as I contemplated the possibility. Now just maybe something like that could very well work! I thought, a million ideas zooming through my mind. I'd be done with school by then…and God knows they have teaching positions in England…and I'd have over half a year to get used to the idea of actually being someone's wife…and my parents and my sister could get used to the idea of me leaving them the next summer…

            "You know…" I said, beaming, "that sounds better to me than the actual proposal did! Oh my…it's crazy, but you know what? It might just work!"

            I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him. "You are a genius!" I laughed. "I think that might actually be feasible!"

            "Okay, then," he said, grinning. "When do you graduate?"

            "May first," I announced proudly. "On the dot at noon."

            "Well, then…let's say at one o'clock on May first you ring me up and tell me you're on your way," he laughed. "Do you think you can wait the eight months?"

            "I'll have to," I said, "but the wait will be so well worth the spoils!"

            A few kisses later, he looked down at me and, in a low voice, said, "Uh, Laur, if something should happen before that…if you find out that by some chance you're, er, that I'm, uh, going to be a father…"

            "Oh," I said, biting my lip. "Yeah…I never thought about that…"

            "Do you think it could possibly happen?"

            I drew up a mental picture of the little calendar on my dresser in my room, with all my "Aunt Flo" days (as Anna, Cheryl and I jokingly called it) marked in red. "I don't think it's very possible…but, hey, accidents happen…"

            "Okay, okay," he said, reaching into his pocket. He retrieved an ivory business card with Brian's office address and telephone numbers printed in dark blue letters. "If anything like that should happen, you call Brian and he'll find me. I don't care if it's the middle of teatime or four o'clock in the morning, you find me."

            "Of course," I said. "I shudder to think what my parents would do if I was pregnant."

            "Probably hit the ceiling…but you're a big girl," he said. "If it was Claire coming to them with that news--"

            "Oh my god--she'd be in a full body cast!" I laughed.

            I kissed him about ten more times, then we finally broke away from each other. "May first, then," I said, smiling and fighting back more tears. I'd had enough crying that day--he didn't need to remember me with red eyes, weeping over him leaving.

            "May first," he repeated. "It's a date, then."

            We walked hand in hand to the front doorway. The driver started the engine, and I stood on my tiptoes to kiss Paul one last time before he left my life for another eight long months. "I love you, Paul," I cooed to him softly.

            "I love you, Laurie," he said, stepping away from me backwards, heading slowly out the doorway and out of my life. "I always will, even a hundred years from now."

            I watched him get in the car, and I put my hand over my heart. Squinting into the even deeper-gold sunlight, I watched the car pull out of the drive and turn onto Cold Creek Street. A light wind blew my hair away from my face and brought a fresh burst of air into the hallway behind me. There was little else to do but smile, just smile and be happy over the future.

The future would be different, now, but so much better! There was now something for me to look forward to after graduation day, which, for such a long time, seemed like the end of my life to me, with just a blurred abyss of a future beyond it. Now everything was clear and lovely and hopeful to me, and I'd be a changed person thanks to those past three wonderful weeks away from home. I'd been right to think that things would never be the same when I arrived home from the trip when I left my house in that limo over two weeks earlier. Things weren't changed for the worse, though--only for the better. I felt, for the very first time in my life, like I was an actual grown-up now, not just a kid in a woman's body thrown into a college environment. I was a true adult now…and Paul was waiting for me, ready to share the rest of his life with me as soon as I was ready to live it.

            Only eight months into the future…eight hazy months ahead…

Continue to the Epilogue...

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