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She eyes me curiously once again, muttering ‘Uh, just a moment,’ into the cell phone, and then hurrying through the kitchen without even bothering to take off her backpack or her shoes. I almost said something about tracking the snow through the house, but I figured that it was not the right time to mention it, especially given how she had blushed. I simply sighed, listening to her quickly mounting the stairs and taking another sip of coffee as I heard the door to her bedroom close above me. It took me only another ten minutes or so to finish the report and e-mail it to a client, then I found myself wondering about the conversation my presence had interrupted, about the blush which had further colored Charlotte’s cold-reddened cheeks. I ultimately told myself that it was because she was no longer accustomed to having me around so much. For years, I was a presence at dinner — maybe — and occasionally another member of the audience at a dance competition or at a school choir concert.. I will always be there for you." I kissed her and she gasped and kissed me back deeply. When it was done, she sobbed and cried. "Why are you crying, Caroline? You okay?" She smiled her nice smile and stroked my cheek. "Oh my dear Jonathan, I have not heard a nice thing from my bastard husband and you told me a nice thing. It can't happen my dear Jonathan, you are younger than me. I am way to old for you." I was sad and walked out her house. My Mom saw me crying and hugged me. That year I finished High School and moved to Florida for college. I majored in psychology and worked hard in school. I had an old picture of Carrie, my Mom gave it to me for a keepsake. A few years later when I was twenty-four, my Mom called me to say that my Dad was killed. Crashed into a tree, obviously my Dad was drunk. At his funeral I heard Carrie's voice. "Hello my dear Jonathan." I cried and turned to hug her tightly and kiss her deeply. "Oh Carrie, I miss you so. I love you, Carrie!" She cried. "I am.
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