Dancing With Ghosts

3rd TICKET

The train chugged into the Welsh town of Mills at 9.00pm. Mills was the last stop, end of the line. Nothing moved forward from here. And nothing said the end of the line like a stiff November breeze, thick fog slowly covering the tracks and Welsh accents I had a hard time understanding. I had pulled into many towns in many parts of the world just like this. I was used to being the stranger arriving in the middle of nowhere. I pulled a scrap of paper from my pocket with a one word address on it. St. Bolts. I asked the station man if he knew where St. Bolts was located.

“St. Bolts?” The station man repeated. “What on earth you want there?”

“Well a friend of mine lives there and she’s invited me to spend a few weeks.”

“Is that right?” The station man said. “Girlfriend?”

“Fiance.” I said. “At least that’s what I’m hoping after this visit.”

“Ahhh. So your a man on a mission, I see.”

“Yes I’m really anxious to get there, she doesn’t know I’m arriving tonight.”

“When was your scheduled arrival?” He asked.

“Next Week.” I said. Of course this was none of his business but I went along because he was the only person at the station and, like it or not, I had to depend on him until he pointed me in the right direction. “How far is St. Bolts from here?”

“The Main House, as the locals call it, five, maybe seven miles. Too far to walk in this fog.”

“I don’t suppose there’s a cab I could call?”

“There is.” He offered no further information.

“Do you have a number?”

“I do.” Long pause.

“Okay, well may I have it, the number of the cab?”

“I will do you a service and make the call myself.”

“Thank you.” I said. “Thank you kindly.”

“But first I must tell you that The Main House once played host to the criminally insane.”

“Is that right?” I tried to sound interested but wasn’t. I just wanted to get on with it. Get there.

“Yes sir, a real Freddy Krueger fun house St. Bolts is.”

“I’ll be sure to watch my step.” I said.

“May I ask, without being too nosy, what your girl does here? She’s American I take it.”

“Yes she’s American. We went to high school together. She’s a chemical engineer, works at one of the refineries.”

“Ho ho, we got plenty of them.” I detected a slight bitterness.

“That’s what she told me.”

“American oil companies done us no favors. They come bringing their pollution. But that’s not your problem is it laddie? Excuse me a moment.” The station man went into a small office and shut the door followed by muffled telephone conversation. At one point he stuck his head out and asked if I had twenty pounds. I said I did. Two minutes later he asked if I had another ten pounds for my luggage. One Tumi Alpha Bravo backpack and a Misty Duffel. I was being robbed but was too tired to argue about it. In five minutes he was back out. “Your ride will be here shortly, sir.”

“Thanks.” I said.

“Don’t thank me, thank my brother-in-law, Rory who I just got out of bed.” He then wandered off and I didn’t see him again.”

Rory arrived in ten minutes, jumped out of the driver’s seat, pointed at me and said, “Saint Bolts.”

“Yes sir.” I said.

“Good enough. Throw your bags in the back, sit up front if you don’t mind.”

“Sure thing.” I actually preferred sitting up front with the driver. And I liked that Rory wasted no time getting here.

“What you know about this place? Oh before I forget what’s your name?”

“Jimmy Mallam”

“Rory Sais.”

“Nice to know you, Rory.”

“Likewise.”

“I don’t know anything about St. Bolts. I’ve never been to this part of the world before.”

Rory laughed. “Ninety-nine and nine tenths of the people living on this planet never been here. But that’s okay, we’re glad you’re here now.”

“I appreciate that.”

Rory pulled a card from his jacket pocket and handed it to me. “If you need transport while your here call my personal number there.”

“Wow, thanks”

“Book an entire day for a hundred.”

“Very inexpensive, Rory.” I lied.

“It’s a fair rate, I feel.”

"Rory, what should I know about this place, St. Bolts? The guy at the station said something about being a home for the criminally insane.”

“Right. I’ll give you a short history then. Starts with Yuri Boltov, a Russian nobleman who escaped the Russian revolution along with his family and somehow landed here. Mills wasn’t even on a map until 1940 something. Our claim to fame, if you can call it that, is that a group of Pilgrims went to North America, didn’t like it and came back. People will tell you Mills was discovered by Americans. It’s good copy mind you but nothing could be farther from the truth. Just some unhappy Englishmen who didn’t quite make it home. Fact is most of the British Isles weren’t aware of Mills. Most still aren’t. Mills has a very sordid history of social and religious intolerance, resistance to change or technology, fear of outsiders. A false accusation could get one imprisoned or worse, burned at the stake or hung. They were still burning witches up until 1950 if you can believe that.”

“That is hard to fathom.” I said.

“Then comes, Yuri Boltov into all this. Yuri builds himself a huge mansion five miles out of town. Buys all the farm land around intending to rent it out to local farmers. The people in Mills hate him but he lives out his life here. After Yuri dies his kids, who are now grown up, can’t leave Mills fast enough. On their way out of town they sell the place to a young, rich record producer who records what now would be considered classic rock in his newly refurbished basement studio. He also holds outdoor concerts in the fields. The farmers hate him because he’s ruined their crops, the town father’s hate the music because their kids are buying it. But they hate even more the shaggy haired musicians wandering around town chatting up the young ladies. Then people start disappearing, turning up dead. A fire kills 7 people. The Record producer’s plan to make beautiful music in a pastoral setting is ruined. Word spreads through Britain’s rather smallish music community and bands stop booking his facilities. Finally he’s had enough, this producer, and pulls up stakes, moves to California.”

“I never heard of any of this stuff and I followed the music world pretty closely as a kid.”

“This all took place in 69. Our scandals never made it farther than Cardiff. Always overshadowed by what happens in the colonies. At that time it was Charlie Manson and his crowd getting all the press. Plus, if truth be told, Mills works very hard to keep it’s dirty history under wraps."

“Well what happened after the producer left?”

“The British government bought the place and turned it into an institution. For about ten years. After that the oil companies swooped in and bought everything. If you owned any sizable bit of land you could make yourself a few pounds. An oil company owns St. Bolts. Nice inside but for some reason, nobody's quite figured out yet, it tends to leave people damaged.”

“Okay. Well thanks for the history lesson.”

Rory brought his car to a stop in front of a stone mansion. “My pleasure. Now if you’ll excuse me I have to get back before my wife starts dancing with the ghosts.”

“Sure thing.” I grabbed my wallet, handed him forty pounds and got my bags out of the back seat. Suddenly I came face to face with this great gray stone monstrosity. Not at all inviting. It almost looked like a child’s drawing. A square box with a door in the middle and two windows on either side. I immediately disliked the place and could never imagine someone I loved living here. The station man was right, a Freddy Krueger fun house wasn’t far off the mark. A haunted house straight out of central casting. And now here I was, like Scooby and Shaggy, walking up to the front door hoping someone would let me in.

I knocked, no answer. I rang what looked like a doorbell, no answer. Knocked again nothing. I walked around the side of the house but there were no windows and no exterior lights. I couldn’t even see my shadow. I walked around the other side of the house. Same thing, no lights, no windows, no signs of life. I really hoped I wouldn’t be spending the night outdoors, it was getting cold. I wandered around back and noticed a single story carriage house connected to the main house by a large stone wall with three arches. There was a faint yellow light coming from a small window and a front door with a porch light.

A young man answered on the first knock, “Can I help you?” He asked.

“Sorry to bother you so late but I’m looking for Melissa Tains?”

“Melissa, yes, she’s just popped out with Roy for a drink round the pub.”

“She doesn’t know I’m coming.” I said.

“Oh dear. Well come in, it’s bone chilling cold out there.”

“Thanks.” I stepped into a small hallway and was greeted instantly by warmth and the aroma of food coming from the kitchen.

The young man said, “My name is Seek. Come in the lounge.”

“Jimmy Mallam”

“Jimmy? Oh your that Jimmy. Jimmy the one Melissa said was coming. Have a seat.” Seek motioned to the sofa.

A voice from the kitchen said, “Seek introduce your friend.”

“This is Jimmy, Melissa’s friend from America.”

A second voice from the kitchen said, “What’s poor Roy to do now that he’s here?”

Seek replied, “They’re just friends, Thee.”

“Whose just friends?”

Seek looks flustered and finally blurts out, “We’re all just friends. Okay?”

Luce said, “Roy’s not the sharing type, you know that, not like the three of us.”

“Whose Roy?” I asked.

“Roy’s on keyboards.” Luce shouted from the kitchen.

“Why don’t you girls just cook the pudding and quit badgering Jimmy”

“Oh please, give us a break, Seek. Next you’ll want him to join the band.”

Seek looked my way. “Do you play anything, Jimmy?"

“The clarinet in fifth grade.”

Seek exclaimed, “I think we found our horn section.”

“Shut it, Seek,” followed by banging of pots and pans.

“I see you have a drummer.” I said.

Seek laughs, a plate hits the kitchen floor. “Cymbal crash!”

“That’s Thee not me,” Luce said.

Thee said, “Where we gonna put him when Roy comes in?”

Luce said, “We may not have to worry about it; last time, Roy and Mel met up we found them sleeping out in the pasture next morning.”

Thee chimed in, “That was before it got cold.”

“She won’t let him in her flat,” Seek whispered in my direction.

“Why?” I wanted to know.

Seek shrugged. “Don’t know. If I had to guess I’d say it’s some kind of religious thing. Saving herself for marriage?”

Saving herself for me, I thought.

Just then the door opens, Roy enters. “Whose this?” He asks giving me the once over.

“I’m Jimmy.” I stand to greet him. Roy ignores me and sits at the dining table.

Seek says to Roy, “he’s here to see, Melissa.”

“I reckon,” Roy said. “Well Jimmy she’s here so go get her.”

The tension in the room was palpable. I tried to think of something to say to ease the tension but any word from me and the room was going to explode. “Thanks Seek for the hospitality, Thank you ladies for the laughs.”

Luce huffed and puffed, “So we’re just a couple of comedians back here, are we?”

I glanced at Roy but he was facing the wall. I let myself out.

I don’t know how long I was out in the cold, seemed like forever. My visit with Jimmy, Luce and Thee felt more like a dream now than reality. I fell asleep against the stone wall and woke up when a pair of headlights hit me. A woman’s voice, “Jimmmeeeee, Jimmy,” sounded almost hysterical. Melissa was running toward me. I stood up and caught her with both arms, lifted her off the ground and swung her around. “Oh my gosh I thought you were never going to get here and here you are a week early.” She put her cheek on mine and then kissed my neck, not like the innocent kisses we shared in high school but a sexy, dirty-sweet adult kiss. A bolt of lightening passed through me and every sexual desire I had kept repressed fanned out through my body. “You light me up babe.” I whispered.

“Save me.” She said. I felt her teeth and her tongue on my neck, in my mouth. “Hmmmmm, oh, let’s go inside.” She took my hand in hers, led the way

Once inside our desires calmed a bit. We stood there looking at each other. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on; changed from skinny to full figured, tall, sexy, perfect in every way.

“You look strong,” she said, “really strong. Are you working out?”

“Last year I was embedded with a group of Gi’s out of Fort Bragg. I learned how to be strong when you have to be strong.”

“Well you look like you’ve had plenty of opportunities to be strong.”

“I’ve missed you, Melissa.”

“Missed you too. I think of you all the time, Jimmy”

“I don’t want us to be apart anymore, Mel. I think it’s a miracle that we went our separate ways and still found our way back to each other.”

“Yeah funny how that worked out.” She said.

“Some times when I was in some war torn, third world city trying to write an article that made sense of the useless killing taking place, I’d think of you and wished we’d gotten married right out of high school like we’d planned. When ever I got on a plane to go home I’d imagine I was coming home to you.”

“I had those thoughts too, usually when I was starting in a new position. I remember this one time I was in my office and noticed one of my coworkers sitting outside in the garden with his wife having lunch. I got so homesick for you. I wanted to do normal ordinary things too, I just had no interest in doing them in Montana."

"We both needed to get away from Montana, thing is I never wanted to get away from you.”

“There’s a lot to discuss, Jimmy, I mean if we’re going to move forward together.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

“You make me so happy, Jim."

The next morning I woke up and, oddly enough, my first thought was Roy. Roy, Melissa’s relationship with Roy had to be discussed and dealt with. Two voices inside, one reckless, the other filled with caution pulled me in two directions. First voice: anger, recriminations, the second voice: calm, reassuring. One voice was, Seek. “She won’t let him in her flat?” The other voice was Thee, “What’s poor Roy to do now that he’s here?” And then Luce, “Roy’s not the sharing type.” Soon these dueling thoughts took on a life of their own and a completely original scenario developed.

Calm voice: “Would she have asked you to share her bed last night if she was involved with Roy?”

Anger: “They woke up in a field together. Very romantic making love under the stars.”

Calm: Surrounded by smelly sheep, really?”

Anger: One wouldn’t notice such things when heavily committed to and involved in sexual intercourse. Especially if he’s taking her virginity.”

Calm: “You shouldn’t even be thinking this stuff. Not doing yourself any good.”

Anger: “What if she’s pregnant and getting him to go to bed is just a way to hide a problem?”

Calm, “Never had sex last night.”

Anger: “She’s has a week to convince him.”

Calm: “She a good girl.”

Anger: “Is that right? Then where, in all of Christendom, did she learn to kiss like that?”

Calm: “Does it matter?”

Anger: “Those aren’t skills you learn by yourself.”

And that was my last thought before, Melissa walked into the room in her flowered pj’s, hair all messed up and beautiful as ever. At that moment if she had asked me to give up everything and spend eternity living with her in this big old ugly house I would have done it. But, instead of calm anger found it’s way in. She took my face in her hands and planted a wet kiss on my mouth, her tongue tried to find a way in but I kept my mouth shut. She stepped back, looked at me with some concern. “What’s wrong, Jimmy?”

“Nothing, hon. Just because you don’t get to run your tongue over my gums doesn’t mean there’s something wrong.”

“Is it my breath? I forgot to brush, sorry.”

“No, it’s not your breath.”

“Then what. What did I do wrong? If I did something wrong, stepped over a line somewhere tell me, let me know. I’m sorry. Really sorry, Jimmy.”

“Okay. I just hope that you don’t think your going to take the lead in our love making.”

Melissa stepped back, her eyes narrowed and her voice got almost husky. “Tell me what you want, Jim.”

“Ya know yesterday we talked about how we missed doing the normal stuff like having lunch together?”

“Yeah, I missed that a lot.”

“Yeah, me too. But sometimes I had other thoughts. Thoughts of a sexual nature.”

“Fantasies?”

“Yes. Very sexually explicit.”

“Okay. Tell me.” A smile crossed her face.

“I’m the dominant partner, I call the shots, I tell you what to do and… I was almost shaking, not sure I should continue.

“And what?” She asked, smile fading

“And you obey me without questions. In dreams, I own you.”

“You own me?” She repeated. Smile now gone, she tensed up.

“You said there’s a lot to discuss if we’re going to move forward together.”

“And this is the first thing you want to discuss, owning me?”

“Just in the bedroom?” I sounded really weak.

“Listen buster your never going to own me not anywhere, anytime or in any room in the house! How long have you had these fantasies?”

“Since forever.”

“You thought about me in this demeaning way since we were kids?”

“Since about the time you came home from college after your first semester. I mean you'd grown up a lot, you weren't a girl anymore.

“Is that all I am, something to own?”

“Fantasies, Melissa. Something to keep me going until we could be together again.”

“Keep you going?”

“Come on, Melissa don’t act all innocent, you must have a few fantasies?”

“Yeah, coming home and seeing you sleeping against that stone wall waiting in the cold for me. That’s my fantasy and it came true last night.”

“Me too, but the way you kissed my neck. And that French kiss was a first.”

“We’re adults now, Jim. We can indulge ourselves, doesn’t mean we’re going to cross that line.”

“I was sure after you laid that beautiful sexy kiss on me you must have had other men in your life. Nobody learns that stuff by themselves.”

“Really what other men? I kept our prom picture on my desk until someone asked if you were my son.”

“Wow, must have been embarrassing. Are we getting old, Mel?"

Melissa laughed, “Yeah we are, Jimmy. But still it was kind of funny too.”

“Did you ever replace me?”

“I should replace you right now for being a creep."

“I was thinking the picture."

“Your mom sent me the 8x10 they used on the dust jacket of your first book.”

“Don’t remember that one, exactly.”

“Your very handsome. If I didn’t work for an oil company nobody would have recognized you. A few of my coworkers had read of your travels through the Middle East in an attempt to try and keep up with current events in that part of the world."

“Glad I’m having an impact.”

“Yes, one of the secretaries admitted to having quite a crush on you and offered to loan me her copy of your book. She was the one who asked if you were my son."

“Did She fall in love with my prom picture or the 8x10?” I asked.

“I'm ignoring that question. I showed her my signed copy. And who the book was dedicated to.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Yeah okay She went nuts.”

“Maybe you should introduce us, I’d be happy to sign...”

“Not on your life. Your here, your mine and I’m not the sharing kind.”

I laughed. “I’m wondering who owns who here?”

“Jimmy, I’ve always owned you. Ever since you were too young to pronounce my name properly.”

“Lissa with a lisp to writing a book."

“Exactly.” She took my face in her hands and kissed my lips. I kissed her back, I felt relief and electricity. For a few brief seconds there I thought that I’d lost her.

“We were born a month apart, our parents introduced us when we were just a few weeks old. We grew up playing together. The garden gate was only 30 feet from the kitchen door, she was easy to find. I preferred her company to that of my brothers or other boys and I’m pretty sure she felt the same. Eventually academic pursuits and intellectual curiosity came between us. We went to different colleges, majored in different subjects. The time we got to spend together was whittled down to Christmas holidays, spring break and a few months in the summer. I had loved her from an early age and it was inconceivable to me that we wouldn’t someday be together. Today was the day. We had arrived. Those were my thoughts as we fell asleep in her big king bed that afternoon. By nightfall everything had changed.

I woke up. Melissa was on the phone, crying. “When did this happen?” She asked. “Like what, an hour ago? Whose claiming responsibility? We don’t know? That's so typical.”

I waited until she was finished talking before entering the kitchen where she was staring out the window. “What’s up?” I asked.

“One of our rigs got attacked.”

“Terrorists?”

“Yeah probably but they don’t know who.”

“Where?”

“Saudi.”

“I’ll get packed we’ll fly out together.”

“Hold up, Speedy. They won’t let you on a company plane.”

“I’ll go commercial. Then, we’ll meet up.”

“No can do James. Three people on my team are dead, I have to arrange transport, get them back to Germany, France and the United States. Why did this have to happen now? I wanted to spend time with you.” She wiped tears away. “I have to pack. where’s my go bag?”

“Use my back pack, It has a tracking device in it.”

“So you can keep an eye on me, my owner?”

“This thing saved my life a couple of times when I got lost.”

“I have security, 4 Israeli commandos. Very, very Bad to the bone types.”

“Highly overrated.”

“Not the crew I ride with.”

“Israeli commandos are just old retired army guys. Very few are actually commandos. You’d be better off with a couple SEALS or SAS guys. The French Foreign Legion would work in a pinch."

“No time to hang out a help wanted sign now, Jimmy.”

“Then take my bag. I’ll worry less.”

Melissa laughed bitterly. "You mean like all those worry free nights I spent scared to death while you were traipsing around some war zone?”

“Yes exactly.”

I emptied the bag out, contents spilled onto the bed.

She frowned at my laptop and a couple tablets I always carried. "Jimmy, promise me you won’t write anything about where I’m going or what I’m doing. It’s all very hush, hush. No blogs, no social media posts, no Twitter."

“Hey. Your here, your mine and I’m not the sharing kind.”

She looked at me, blushed. “That’s going to be our thing now, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I said, “it is.”

“I own you, you own me. We’re a happy family.”

“Yes we are.”

“And one more thing, I don’t know how these tracker things work exactly but you won’t find me in, Saudi.”

“Really? Then where?

“Alaska near the Arctic Circle. We’ve been running guerrilla drilling operations in certain locations. No permits, no leases, everything underground.”

“Great, I’ll plan on visiting you in jail somewhere.”

“No you won’t. This is Deep State, Jim. Goes right to the top. And as far as anyone is concerned I never left Mills. Now I need you to stay here and run interference for me. Ellen Needbaum knows your staying and that’s ok. She’s paid by the oil company and they’ve seen to all the arrangements.”

“Whose, Ellen Needbaum?”

“The house manager. She and her Paramour, Durbin, have a flat in the attic.”

“Okay.” She took my bag. I watched her pack in silence.

The first few days were easy, anticipating her return kept me focused and motivated. I monitored the tracking device on the backpack relieved she wasn’t in some dangerous third world country. I also watched the news every night to see who might be reporting the event. Nothing. White House press briefings made no mention about loss of life or damage to the environment.

Forth day email: ‘Be home soon. Much love, M.’

Fifth day email: ‘Finishing up here, really need some time to think. This has been very hard on all of us mostly because the loss of dear friends. Please don’t worry about me too badly, Much Love, M.’

The last email: ‘Hiking with new friends/coworkers, Luce and Roy. Meeting up with Theeba and Seekish on trail. We really leaned on each other for support this past week. Tell you all about them when I return. Only a few day’s now. My One True love, My Clean One Owner, (LOL) My Jimmy.

Who goes for a walk in Alaska, up near the Arctic Circle, in November? Something was seriously off. The weather reports had the entire area under a travel advisory. Deep snow, icy roads. I tracked down the Sheriff in the nearest small town which is like 70 miles away from the drill sight. After I got done explaining he said, “What drill sight? No one’s drilling for oil or anything else up here.”

“The oil rig was attacked four workers were killed.” My voice cracked, I sounded hysterical.

“When?”

“Last week.”

“Never happened. I would know. Where are you calling from anyway?”

“Great Britain, town of Mills, South Wales actually.”

“Is this a joke?” Asked the Sheriff.

“It surely is not.” I said. “They’re up in that area I told you about. Can you send a search party out to find them? Her name is Melissa.

“I’m not going to risk the lives of my men because some wacko from the UK called. Is that all you need, sir?”

“I need you to find Melissa.”

The Sheriff hung up

I went outside to the carriage house where I’d met, Seek and Roy. Banged on the door. Banged again. And again. “Nobody’s home.” A voice behind me said. Ellen was standing there with a gentleman by her side. A guy who, had, at one point, been big and strong but now was slightly stooped. I assumed he was Durbin. “Sorry to bother you.” I said.

“No bother.” Said Ellen. “What are you looking for?”

“My first night in town I was looking for Melissa and saw a light from the cottage, I knocked and a guy named Seek answered the door and let me in. I was really grateful to get out of the cold. We talked a bit, there were two women in the kitchen cooking but they never came out. Seek carried on a conversation with them while we sat in the lounge. Then a guy named Roy came in. Roy was very rude. The girls had mentioned….’

Ellen held up her hand for me to stop talking. “There hasn’t been anyone living there since 1969.”

The stooped over man, Durbin, explained. “Some lads from town dropped a match and the whole place went up. Them inside were so high on cheap wine, cocaine and pills and who knows what all they sat there and burned to death. Feeling no pain, I guess.”

“Durbin!" Ellen shouted. “Must you be so graphic?”

“Just saying.” Durbin wandered off.

“I know what I saw. I sat inside that house with them.”

Ellen said, “follow me.”

We walked around the side of the house where there was another door fastened tight with four industrial padlocks. Ellen unlocked each one and opened the door. She reached around for a switch and turned on the lights. The room had been gutted, no sign of a hallway, a lounge or a kitchen. All furnishings had been replaced with workbenches, small tractors and gardening equipment. Two barn doors had been installed in the back wall. “It’s just a maintenance shed now.” Ellen said.

“This isn’t what I remember at all.”

Ellen said, “I don’t know what you saw or who you met but I’m pretty sure it didn’t happen here. This been a work shed long before I got here.”

Ellen locked up and we walked around to where Durbin was waiting. He handed me a record album. On the cover was a cartoon of a rocket orbiting a smiling moon. Lighthearted was the name of the album, Rock Round the Moon was the name of the band. “Never heard of them.” I said.

“Look on the back.” Durbin said.

I turned the cover over and there sitting at an upright piano was Roy. His name printed in Tiny Letters beneath his right hand which was placed on the piano keys. Next to Roy, holding an electric guitar, his name engraved on his fretboard stood Seek. In back of Seek and Roy were two saucy dames both wearing way too much makeup, Luce and Thee. They didn’t look anything like I imagined.

On Roy’s left was a beautiful woman dressed in shiny clothes, her name was printed next to her hand that rested on Roy’s shoulder. Mel.

Ellen gave me a motherly hug, patted my shoulder. "It's time you found your way back home, my boy, find solace with the one's you love."

"I found, Melissa, she's the one." I completely broke down. Durbin and Ellen rushed forward and caught me before I hit the ground, helped me to a chair. "What now?" I asked of no one in particular. Sorry guys this is going to take some time."

Ellen bumped Durbin on the arm. "We're the guys now Durbin." She smiled.

"Yes, I'm honored." Said Durbin.

They sat there smiling at me, smiling at each other. They loved each other. Perhaps, more importantly they seemed content with each other, with the world. I remembered that contentment in the years to come. It Calmed me a bit.

Durbin leaned forward. "This may not be the right time to ask but would you do me the honor of signing your book?" He handed, an old, worn out copy and a pen.

"This obviously has been read a few times."

"Oh we loved it." Said Ellen, smiling.

"We did indeed." Said Durbin. "A very good read."

In that moment I knew I'd be friends with these two for a long time. I sat up, wiped my tears away and thought for a few seconds and then finally wrote...

'The kitchen door is only thirty feet from the garden gate. The world waits. At days end come home my one true love, to me, your country, your last exotic destination. Ellen and Durbin forever.' Thanks, Jimmy Mallam

TBC

See 4th Ticket: Journalism 101

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