ONE
Some men only love one woman at a time, some men have never loved, some men love only another man and then there are a significant number of men like Frederick Vaughhagen who've being blinded by their love of one woman.
Frederick and Zelda were eighteen when they first met when her family came to settle on the island. An exchanged glance sparked something between them that sparked a little bit more each time they met.
Nineteen months later the two virgins married and it was almost six months after that, when finally consumed by a passion that neither could resist, they consummated their marriage. From then on it was all on leading to joint infatuation.
They appeared made for one another and at times they plowed so deeply and ground against each other so passionately that, to any observer chancing to see them having sex, the couple would have appeared to be have become one person.
Some people say sex doesn't last but Frederick and Zelda thought they had a marriage made in heaven (another saying). It ended when Zelda, swimming one morning in the bay, was taken by a fish, probably a shark or possibly a school of barracuda.
The village's three fishermen brought the various parts of Zelda to Frederick – her head was still recognizable. Shattered in grief he swore he'd never love again – but we all know about men and their promises.
After a period of mourning of 300 days, Frederick turned his back on the Isle of Dankamorgun and went to sea as a galley hand, quickly rising to become ship's cook because he really could cook to the delight of all hands.
When the crew went ashore to drink and wench Frederick stayed behind thinking of his Zelda. Once during a moment of consoling the bereaved First Mate whose girlfriend was now sleeping with the Captain, Fred related the tale of his sad loss.
"Cripes man," said the First Mate, an Englishman, brushing aside his tears with grubby fingers. "My loss is infinitesimal compared with yours. We thought the reason why you didn't come ashore to help us plow through the local, ahem, maidens, was your dick must be too small. But oh dear, I see what the reason is now: you're a prisoner of Zelda."
Those surprisingly majestic last three words sunk through to Fred and he thrust his arms forward in grief and if to clasp the invisible spirit of Zelda. But all that happened was the galley hand threw an oven cloth over one out-stretched arm and said: "The scones are ready to be taken out, Chief."
When that vessel, London Fog, arrived in New York to discharge a mixed cargo of dates, baseball bats, barreled sardines and reprints of original French postcards, Fred jumped ship and was processed by officials as a distressed alien and given immediate American citizenship, full documentation and $5000 in cash; this was a little before Home Security tightened procedures.
TWO
Frederick quickly found work, because the average stay of a chef in a take-out restaurant was those days was from start day to first pay day. But Frederick stayed a little longer than average and began accruing capital, not boozing or wenching or gambling.
Attempting to be patriotic he learned the words of 'The Star-Spangled Banner' and slowly moved westwards to find his place under the sun, which he did five years later when his westward journey was halted by the Pacific Coast at Los Angeles.
One night just before dawn, playing poker with Louis, Al and Franco, the unsmiling Freddie (his name by then having being Americanized) cleaned them out and they invited him into partnership in their beachfront restaurant, which was a real dump.
Because the three of them needed money to fund future poker losses and buy their young wives new dresses, Freddie agreed, and within two years Louis, Al and Franco were history – with Freddie owning the restaurant outright.
One of the advantages of not playing around with women, and particularly not marrying one, is you can save lots of money. Freddie had heaps. So he knocked down the restaurant building illegally and erected a stylish replacement without seeking permits and consents. But local officials were so impressed by the improvements that they turned a blind eye, assisted by Freddie's backhanders when they approached him.
Oh, smart Freddie. He ended the squeeze for backhanders by paying to get permits and consents issued retrospectively.
The restaurant and bar named by patrons as Freddie's became the 'in' place on the coast for single men and men taking a temporary break from their wives; and naturally, being Los Angeles, those sitting ducks attracted prostitutes.
Freddie stoutly refused to accept backhanders from those women who wanted to use the two bedrooms upstairs but he installed a steel box bolted into the concrete wall marked 'Donations' and that worked very well.
Single male non-gay policemen became regulars at Freddie's and that gave him the lawful protection he needed – the gangs turning elsewhere to fleece businessmen.
At this stage Freddie was thirty-three and had been celibate since Zelda had perished at sea. The big bar was named Zelda's Bar as a memorial and patrons like the exotic touch when learning about Zelda. Soon half the custom came of the darling's of the city's social community, which included Hollywood.
Being in restaurant-bar and rubing shoulders with stubble-faced men with broad-shoulders and narrow hips who were not gay, and prostitutes who really looked like prostitutes of thirty years ago instead of starlets, appealed immensely to the social elite. Freddie was not anti-gay – they were just not welcome if flaunting it because he wanted that edge of difference for a bar in LA.
One night around 2 am in walks this babe dressed in a tight white dress and probably nothing else. The crowd parted and she stood before the main bar.
She said in a husky voice, "I'm told this dump has a bar called Zelda's Bar – well I'm not allowing that; I'm Zelda."
Unconcerned that the great female film director Zelda Barrymore was sounding off about the name of his bar, Freddie asked: "Are you a prostitute?"
"No darling, but how much do you charge? I might consider taking you on as a guy in need of sustenance."
The bar erupted in laughter.
But it died when Freddie asked was Zelda a Los Angeles socialite – an elite band she despised. Zelda wanted a drink, badly, but her standards prevented her from lying, possibly a rarity in anyone in her industry.
"No."
"Then you not welcome here. Clear off."
"Okay, I'll confess – I lied. I'm secretly a member of the Los Angeles socialite elite."
There was a gasp from the crowd and silence as the assembly watched to see how Freddie would react to this hard-ass dame. He went behind the bar, rare for him these days: "Your first drink is on the house, Zelda."
"A shot glass, no ice, one third ouzo, two thirds orange juice."
Freddie mixed the drink, his face impassive, his heart pounding. He knew of no other person who drank ouzo to that exact specification – it had been his Zelda's only alcoholic drink apart from wine.
Thie new Zelda sat on a bar stool and Freddie poured his customary iced water with a dash of fresh lime and leaned over to talk to her.
"You haven't a clue who I am, have you?" Zelda said, eyes narrowing, ready to give Freddie a roasting should he lie.
"Nah, just as you haven't a clue who I am lady. The only thing I find attractive about you is your name."
Steam was about to blow from Zelda McDowell's nostrils; and her knuckles whitened – she threw quite a punch as many a guy could testify. But she cooled it, thinking this was the most genuine guy she'd met in the last ten of her thirty years (a lie, she'd thirty-eight and was born Zelda Franks in New Jersey).
Within the hours people in the bar-restaurant watched in shock as Zelda McDowell – the hardest-nosed bitch in Hollywood with four failed marriages under her belt, was crying and kissing and hugging Freddie who ordinarily never allowed a woman to touch him.
Later Freddie watched Zelda walk out, ass swaying, and wondering why his dick had decided to firm after so many years.
The story of Freddie that he'd related to Zelda broke in the media the morning after the awards. Zelda received a goldie for best director and was director of best film; the best actor named her as the most influential woman in his life apart from his mom and the seventeen-year-old who Zelda had watched teaching a small class of Maori first-graders when she was holidaying in New Zealand and, three months later called to Hollywood, was named best supporting actress.
Smart sleuthing had uncovered the identity of Zelda's mystery man. Of course Hollywood being Hollywood everyone claimed they knew Freddie as soon as the 'Los Angles Sun' broke the story.
That night Zelda and Freddie were interviewed on TV news on three channels half an hour apart, with Freddie claiming he was just an ordinary guy, a grateful alien whose favorite song was the 'Star-Spangled Banner'.
But it was on 'Midnight with Jenna' when Jenna broke the real story about the two Zeldas. The show enjoyed a huge syndication so a huge number of people were crying, including Zelda and Jenna (next day throughout America sales of fish were down 88%. Ads were rushed on to TV showing three former Presidents eating fish and that restored sales, averting a national calamity to America's economy).
"There is nothing between us," Zelda sobbed and Jenna came across and comforted her, something she'd never been known to do.
"A bond is developing between you two – I can sense it," lied Jenna. She invited Freddie to close the show singing 'The Star-Spangled Banner' and had to quickly cancel her instruction for a quick fade out of Freddie when discovering he had a fine voice.
Putting her hand to her ear-plug, Jenna said: "My producer tells me if it's anything like the people in the studio and at her parent's home, half of America stood while Freddie sang. Wasn't he beautiful?"
The show faded with Jenna's arms wrapped around Freddie as she kissed him and Zelda looking like a hunting tigress ready to pounce.
Next day a group of students in Los Angeles launched a petition called "Freddie for State Governor" and within eight hours an estimated 98,000 signatures had been collected and citizens of San Francisco down to the smallest town were screaming for copies of the petition.
All this publicity brought people in search of Freddie's 'Freddie's'. Two extra security guards were employed by Freddie on crowd control, his restaurant and bar now being one of the hottest places to be seen at on the planet.
Zelda, alas, was not enjoying Freddie's rapid rise to fame as it had destroyed the little bit of intimacy that had developed between them, if it could be called that. He'd managed to allow the back of his hand brush against hers, but really it was her pussy crying out to be brushed. She'd love him to brush her pussy, she thought, before remembering she was bald down there.
The gossip columnist and women's mags were agog with excitement and Zelda became quite addicted to the wonderful interviews she was purported to have given the magazines and her tightly written quotations the columnists had plucked from the air and attributed to her – Zelda firmly believing the bitches made up those mini quotes while sitting in the bathroom suffering constipation which they released verbally.
Everyone who knew them at Freddie's was aware that Freddie never touched her – but that Zelda couldn't keep her hands off him.
Jenna of 'Jenna at Midnight' fame was now a regular patron at Freddie's. She was heard to voice drunkenly, "When those two get to fuck it will be one of the greatest fucks LA has ever hosted. Our studio would pay half a billion to have it live on TV."
Zelda knew in her heart this impasse would end and Freddie would fall in love with her and she'd have his head against her breast forever.
She had a month off between films, a little in need of rest. A few nights later she came into the bar for her usual – ouzo and orange – and after pouring it for her, Freddie handed her two airline tickets.
"Look after these please, Zelda – we fly out tomorrow night to my old place of enchantment, the Isle of Dankamorgun."
Zelda cried, because she didn't know whether to be happy or sad.
"Yes, I feel like crying also," said Freddie, and she knew she should have acted joyfully. A mistake but Freddie wasn't depressed.
THREE
Ten days later after their island adventure they were on the aircraft flying back to LA, Zelda with an engagement ring on her finger, and a proud finance who kept looking at her adoringly. Already his head had been on her breast – her bared breasts, and several times actually.
It began slowly. They'd arrived at the island on a small, smelly fishing boat and Zelda was surprised how lovely the island was; she'd been expecting a grubby place as the island was under the flag of a Third World nation.
They met his family and were shown to their rooms – Frederick (his name reverted) assigned his own bedroom that he used to share with two brothers and Zelda being taken to the tiny guest room.
The brothers and sisters still living on the island came to the evening meal with their families and where overjoyed to have Frederick with them again; although initially shy with Zelda she soon put them at ease. All had raised their eyes when introduced to the visitor as 'Zelda' but none mentioned the coincidence.
Just on dusk Freddie took Zelda to the grave site and they both were rather overwhelmed. Freddie held out his arm to lead Zelda back and was surprised that she was so emotional that she had difficult in walking.
They slept the night separately, as usual, although it was a romantic island.
When Zelda awoke she called out to Frederick but his mother said he'd gone to see his beloved Zelda. The new Zelda waited and he returned an hour later and began eating breakfast; she said she was going for a walk and went to the grave
"I see you later Zelda Franks," he said cheerfully.
Zelda was stunned and went back and asked him how he'd learned her true surname; it was her greatest secret.
"Zelda told me," he said, attacking his tree ripened fruits. She stamped her foot at his ridiculous comment and walked off wondering how on earth he'd found out.
During the walk to the beach Zelda reflected on a terrible time in her own past. Eight years earlier when and training in film direction Zelda had a horrendous skiing accident – losing control and crashing into rocks, suffering severe head injuries. She remained in a coma after surgeons removed pressure on her brain but her family was called in to be with her for her last hours.
It was a terrible time for her parents, three surviving grandparents and brother and two sisters. Finally the family agreed with the medical team and Zelda was taken off the life support system. The family went back to their motels after arranging to return in the morning, as the doctors had said it would take eight to twelve hours before the end came. But her mother, Elizabeth, stayed on.
Sometime during the night as her mother would relate a year later, Elizabeth snapped out of her doze to find her daughter bathed in a yellow light and dimly made out the apparition of a beautiful young woman in minature, about her daughter's age with hair down to the middle of her back, at the centre of that light.
Elizabeth rubbed her eyes, disbelievingly, but the image remained.
She saw Zelda's body convulse twice, then the alarm systems sounded and she could hear hospital staff running down the corridor towards the room.
Then Elizabeth saw an incredible event – the yellow light that had been hovering over the head and chest of Zelda began to seep into the body of her daughter.
Elizabeth was a religious person and said aloud: "My daughter is going to be an angel."
The emergency team rushed in and Elizabeth was brushed aside.
Suddenly a nurse shouted – "We have a heart beat" and then Elizabeth saw the black bellows of the oxygen machine tremble, partly inflate once or twice and then within seconds began regular operation.
"She's in remission," said the young doctor and by the time the senior night surgeon arrived all of Zelda's vital functions were normal, according to the monitors.
"I don't know how this has happened but your daughter's um, life forces are identical to those of a healthy young woman on her age," the surgeon said to Elizabeth, looking bewildered. "How long she will sustain this recovery is anyone's guess."
By the end of the week Zelda was discharged from hospital as all tests revealed no medical abnormalities. She was told to take it easy for the next month.
Now, walking to the grave of her namesake, Zelda remembered the time that her revival was recorded: 1.27 am on April 4, 1997 - a time and date she'd always remember.
At the grave she read the simple inscription: 'In loving memory of Zelda, beloved wife of Frederick Vaughhagen, who died tragically, April 3, 1997'.
Zelda was startled – what an amazing co-incidence, she though – my namesake died the day before my near death.
The couple went by fishing boat back to the mainland then took an internal flight to make their connecting flight home, staying overnight. They had a lovely five hours shopping and exploring the local markets. They then parted for an hour. Sixy-seven minutes later Zelda was waiting impatiently for Freddie to return. She went for a short walk to look for him and just as she came around a grove of palms and entered the square there was Freddie walking toward her.
"Freddie!" she called.
He looked at her grinning, and held out his arms. She raced into them and he kissed her – not a gentle kiss of a friend, but a real kiss.
"Oh Freddie," she said. "I've got to sit down for a moment. I've wanted this moment to come, wanted it so desperately, but now it has come I'm overwhelmed."
They sat down.
"Recovered?" he asked.
She nodded and went to stand but he held her back.
"Zelda, will you please marry me?"
Zelda found she was surprisingly calm, and said, "Yes of course, dear Freddie."
He pulled from his pocket a small velvet box and opened it, and they both looked at the diamond ring.
"It won't fit but we'll get it adjusted as soon as we arrive back home."
But that wasn't necessary, the ring fitted perfectly.
They had eleven hours before their flight to America departed so they returned to their hotel and went to bed. They made love for the first time tenderly, like young lovers; the second time it was more athletic and the third it was full on with years of frustration and celibacy being unleashed for Freddie and years of personal relationship frustrations dissolving for Zelda.
In the sated aftermath, with Freddie in exhausted sleep, Zelda recalled something her mother had told her very privately, a year after her miraculous recovery. He mother had been so certain she was awake when she saw the vision and golden light – the apparition was of a young woman.
Waiting to board the aircraft two questions came into Zelda's mind. She had no problem asking Freddie for the information because since being on the island they'd talked about his first Zelda as if she was almost with them.
"Did Zelda have short-cropped blonde hair like me?"
"She had blonde hair, but it was long."
"How long?"
"Down to the middle of her back."
Zelda's heart was racing. Just another question darling – I hope you don't mind but I feel now that I am part of Zelda's life. What time did she die?
"No one knew other that sometime late morning."
At the airport Zelda went over to a woman using a laptop. She already was aware there were a day's difference between her near-death and Zelda's death but in the square waiting for Freddie, Zelda had remembered the influence of time zones.
The French woman, who'd been playing a computer game, obligingly went to the desktop of her computer that illustrated time zones on the map of the world.
This was only a visual check because Zelda already knew what she was going to find.
She counted back the time difference on the display and sighed: When it was 1:27 am in Los Angeles the time at the approximately latitude of the Isle of Dankamorgun was 11.27 the previous day. That meant at the time she lay near to death, Freddie's wife Zelda was possibly dying or already dead.
During the long flight home she asked Freddie to tell her what he could about Zelda and her time with him."
"I think you know pretty much all of it now – why this interest?"
"I'll tell you later, Freddie. "You go first."
She smiled when he spoke of her happiness on the morning of her death; it was not unusual for her to go swimming alone.
"Right, yawned Freddie. "Your turn."
"When I get back home I'm going to engage a scriptwriter to tell the story of Zelda, you and me and it's going to be called, with your permission of course, 'Freeing Zelda.'
"But why?" asked Freddie, bemused. "You never met her."
"Tighten your seat belt, Freddie. I'm going to tell you something that's going to blow you away."
When she'd finished Freddie looked at her, wide-eyed and said, "My God. And you really believe it?"
"Yes, all of us at times come across seemingly apparent coincidences that we'll shrug off. On other occasions the apparent coincidences may be so strong we may say, oh well, perhaps. And then there are ones like this, bringing us face to face with something we cannot disregard.
"I believe my mother saw what she saw, Freddie. Initially I found I could not believe what she told me about it; then on island I began to get the feeling that perhaps mom did witness some sort of spiritual happening, but then after taking into account the time zone differences, I became a complete believer.
"Tell me Freddie, why did you suddenly decide to visit the island?"
Freddie placed his head in his hands and said, "Oh God, Zelda, you do ask some very penetrating questions at times. On the night of the awards in the cab going home, you were on my shoulder virtually out on your feet.
"I put my head against yours and heard her calling to me – it was almost like the sound of the wind through trees.
"It's nothing spooky, Zelda, like her saying come home and say goodbye to release me.
"This voice said: 'Take your friend to the island and let her see it and allow me my final look at my homeland'."
Zelda stroked Freddie's face.
"You are confident you heard her say that?"
"Yes, absolutely"
"Well then, we'll be going back to the island to shoot film – you'll be technical director – and after that once a year we will take Zelda back to see her island home."
Freddie wiped his eyes with his fingers.
"You're not the hard-ass bitch that everyone appears to think, are you dear?"
"Not when I'm with you and Zelda, darling."
Some men only love one woman at a time, some men have never loved, some men love only another man and then there are a significant number of men like Frederick Vaughhagen who've being blinded by their love of one woman.
Frederick and Zelda were eighteen when they first met when her family came to settle on the island. An exchanged glance sparked something between them that sparked a little bit more each time they met.
Nineteen months later the two virgins married and it was almost six months after that, when finally consumed by a passion that neither could resist, they consummated their marriage. From then on it was all on leading to joint infatuation.
They appeared made for one another and at times they plowed so deeply and ground against each other so passionately that, to any observer chancing to see them having sex, the couple would have appeared to be have become one person.
Some people say sex doesn't last but Frederick and Zelda thought they had a marriage made in heaven (another saying). It ended when Zelda, swimming one morning in the bay, was taken by a fish, probably a shark or possibly a school of barracuda.
The village's three fishermen brought the various parts of Zelda to Frederick – her head was still recognizable. Shattered in grief he swore he'd never love again – but we all know about men and their promises.
After a period of mourning of 300 days, Frederick turned his back on the Isle of Dankamorgun and went to sea as a galley hand, quickly rising to become ship's cook because he really could cook to the delight of all hands.
When the crew went ashore to drink and wench Frederick stayed behind thinking of his Zelda. Once during a moment of consoling the bereaved First Mate whose girlfriend was now sleeping with the Captain, Fred related the tale of his sad loss.
"Cripes man," said the First Mate, an Englishman, brushing aside his tears with grubby fingers. "My loss is infinitesimal compared with yours. We thought the reason why you didn't come ashore to help us plow through the local, ahem, maidens, was your dick must be too small. But oh dear, I see what the reason is now: you're a prisoner of Zelda."
Those surprisingly majestic last three words sunk through to Fred and he thrust his arms forward in grief and if to clasp the invisible spirit of Zelda. But all that happened was the galley hand threw an oven cloth over one out-stretched arm and said: "The scones are ready to be taken out, Chief."
When that vessel, London Fog, arrived in New York to discharge a mixed cargo of dates, baseball bats, barreled sardines and reprints of original French postcards, Fred jumped ship and was processed by officials as a distressed alien and given immediate American citizenship, full documentation and $5000 in cash; this was a little before Home Security tightened procedures.
TWO
Frederick quickly found work, because the average stay of a chef in a take-out restaurant was those days was from start day to first pay day. But Frederick stayed a little longer than average and began accruing capital, not boozing or wenching or gambling.
Attempting to be patriotic he learned the words of 'The Star-Spangled Banner' and slowly moved westwards to find his place under the sun, which he did five years later when his westward journey was halted by the Pacific Coast at Los Angeles.
One night just before dawn, playing poker with Louis, Al and Franco, the unsmiling Freddie (his name by then having being Americanized) cleaned them out and they invited him into partnership in their beachfront restaurant, which was a real dump.
Because the three of them needed money to fund future poker losses and buy their young wives new dresses, Freddie agreed, and within two years Louis, Al and Franco were history – with Freddie owning the restaurant outright.
One of the advantages of not playing around with women, and particularly not marrying one, is you can save lots of money. Freddie had heaps. So he knocked down the restaurant building illegally and erected a stylish replacement without seeking permits and consents. But local officials were so impressed by the improvements that they turned a blind eye, assisted by Freddie's backhanders when they approached him.
Oh, smart Freddie. He ended the squeeze for backhanders by paying to get permits and consents issued retrospectively.
The restaurant and bar named by patrons as Freddie's became the 'in' place on the coast for single men and men taking a temporary break from their wives; and naturally, being Los Angeles, those sitting ducks attracted prostitutes.
Freddie stoutly refused to accept backhanders from those women who wanted to use the two bedrooms upstairs but he installed a steel box bolted into the concrete wall marked 'Donations' and that worked very well.
Single male non-gay policemen became regulars at Freddie's and that gave him the lawful protection he needed – the gangs turning elsewhere to fleece businessmen.
At this stage Freddie was thirty-three and had been celibate since Zelda had perished at sea. The big bar was named Zelda's Bar as a memorial and patrons like the exotic touch when learning about Zelda. Soon half the custom came of the darling's of the city's social community, which included Hollywood.
Being in restaurant-bar and rubing shoulders with stubble-faced men with broad-shoulders and narrow hips who were not gay, and prostitutes who really looked like prostitutes of thirty years ago instead of starlets, appealed immensely to the social elite. Freddie was not anti-gay – they were just not welcome if flaunting it because he wanted that edge of difference for a bar in LA.
One night around 2 am in walks this babe dressed in a tight white dress and probably nothing else. The crowd parted and she stood before the main bar.
She said in a husky voice, "I'm told this dump has a bar called Zelda's Bar – well I'm not allowing that; I'm Zelda."
Unconcerned that the great female film director Zelda Barrymore was sounding off about the name of his bar, Freddie asked: "Are you a prostitute?"
"No darling, but how much do you charge? I might consider taking you on as a guy in need of sustenance."
The bar erupted in laughter.
But it died when Freddie asked was Zelda a Los Angeles socialite – an elite band she despised. Zelda wanted a drink, badly, but her standards prevented her from lying, possibly a rarity in anyone in her industry.
"No."
"Then you not welcome here. Clear off."
"Okay, I'll confess – I lied. I'm secretly a member of the Los Angeles socialite elite."
There was a gasp from the crowd and silence as the assembly watched to see how Freddie would react to this hard-ass dame. He went behind the bar, rare for him these days: "Your first drink is on the house, Zelda."
"A shot glass, no ice, one third ouzo, two thirds orange juice."
Freddie mixed the drink, his face impassive, his heart pounding. He knew of no other person who drank ouzo to that exact specification – it had been his Zelda's only alcoholic drink apart from wine.
Thie new Zelda sat on a bar stool and Freddie poured his customary iced water with a dash of fresh lime and leaned over to talk to her.
"You haven't a clue who I am, have you?" Zelda said, eyes narrowing, ready to give Freddie a roasting should he lie.
"Nah, just as you haven't a clue who I am lady. The only thing I find attractive about you is your name."
Steam was about to blow from Zelda McDowell's nostrils; and her knuckles whitened – she threw quite a punch as many a guy could testify. But she cooled it, thinking this was the most genuine guy she'd met in the last ten of her thirty years (a lie, she'd thirty-eight and was born Zelda Franks in New Jersey).
Within the hours people in the bar-restaurant watched in shock as Zelda McDowell – the hardest-nosed bitch in Hollywood with four failed marriages under her belt, was crying and kissing and hugging Freddie who ordinarily never allowed a woman to touch him.
Later Freddie watched Zelda walk out, ass swaying, and wondering why his dick had decided to firm after so many years.
The story of Freddie that he'd related to Zelda broke in the media the morning after the awards. Zelda received a goldie for best director and was director of best film; the best actor named her as the most influential woman in his life apart from his mom and the seventeen-year-old who Zelda had watched teaching a small class of Maori first-graders when she was holidaying in New Zealand and, three months later called to Hollywood, was named best supporting actress.
Smart sleuthing had uncovered the identity of Zelda's mystery man. Of course Hollywood being Hollywood everyone claimed they knew Freddie as soon as the 'Los Angles Sun' broke the story.
That night Zelda and Freddie were interviewed on TV news on three channels half an hour apart, with Freddie claiming he was just an ordinary guy, a grateful alien whose favorite song was the 'Star-Spangled Banner'.
But it was on 'Midnight with Jenna' when Jenna broke the real story about the two Zeldas. The show enjoyed a huge syndication so a huge number of people were crying, including Zelda and Jenna (next day throughout America sales of fish were down 88%. Ads were rushed on to TV showing three former Presidents eating fish and that restored sales, averting a national calamity to America's economy).
"There is nothing between us," Zelda sobbed and Jenna came across and comforted her, something she'd never been known to do.
"A bond is developing between you two – I can sense it," lied Jenna. She invited Freddie to close the show singing 'The Star-Spangled Banner' and had to quickly cancel her instruction for a quick fade out of Freddie when discovering he had a fine voice.
Putting her hand to her ear-plug, Jenna said: "My producer tells me if it's anything like the people in the studio and at her parent's home, half of America stood while Freddie sang. Wasn't he beautiful?"
The show faded with Jenna's arms wrapped around Freddie as she kissed him and Zelda looking like a hunting tigress ready to pounce.
Next day a group of students in Los Angeles launched a petition called "Freddie for State Governor" and within eight hours an estimated 98,000 signatures had been collected and citizens of San Francisco down to the smallest town were screaming for copies of the petition.
All this publicity brought people in search of Freddie's 'Freddie's'. Two extra security guards were employed by Freddie on crowd control, his restaurant and bar now being one of the hottest places to be seen at on the planet.
Zelda, alas, was not enjoying Freddie's rapid rise to fame as it had destroyed the little bit of intimacy that had developed between them, if it could be called that. He'd managed to allow the back of his hand brush against hers, but really it was her pussy crying out to be brushed. She'd love him to brush her pussy, she thought, before remembering she was bald down there.
The gossip columnist and women's mags were agog with excitement and Zelda became quite addicted to the wonderful interviews she was purported to have given the magazines and her tightly written quotations the columnists had plucked from the air and attributed to her – Zelda firmly believing the bitches made up those mini quotes while sitting in the bathroom suffering constipation which they released verbally.
Everyone who knew them at Freddie's was aware that Freddie never touched her – but that Zelda couldn't keep her hands off him.
Jenna of 'Jenna at Midnight' fame was now a regular patron at Freddie's. She was heard to voice drunkenly, "When those two get to fuck it will be one of the greatest fucks LA has ever hosted. Our studio would pay half a billion to have it live on TV."
Zelda knew in her heart this impasse would end and Freddie would fall in love with her and she'd have his head against her breast forever.
She had a month off between films, a little in need of rest. A few nights later she came into the bar for her usual – ouzo and orange – and after pouring it for her, Freddie handed her two airline tickets.
"Look after these please, Zelda – we fly out tomorrow night to my old place of enchantment, the Isle of Dankamorgun."
Zelda cried, because she didn't know whether to be happy or sad.
"Yes, I feel like crying also," said Freddie, and she knew she should have acted joyfully. A mistake but Freddie wasn't depressed.
THREE
Ten days later after their island adventure they were on the aircraft flying back to LA, Zelda with an engagement ring on her finger, and a proud finance who kept looking at her adoringly. Already his head had been on her breast – her bared breasts, and several times actually.
It began slowly. They'd arrived at the island on a small, smelly fishing boat and Zelda was surprised how lovely the island was; she'd been expecting a grubby place as the island was under the flag of a Third World nation.
They met his family and were shown to their rooms – Frederick (his name reverted) assigned his own bedroom that he used to share with two brothers and Zelda being taken to the tiny guest room.
The brothers and sisters still living on the island came to the evening meal with their families and where overjoyed to have Frederick with them again; although initially shy with Zelda she soon put them at ease. All had raised their eyes when introduced to the visitor as 'Zelda' but none mentioned the coincidence.
Just on dusk Freddie took Zelda to the grave site and they both were rather overwhelmed. Freddie held out his arm to lead Zelda back and was surprised that she was so emotional that she had difficult in walking.
They slept the night separately, as usual, although it was a romantic island.
When Zelda awoke she called out to Frederick but his mother said he'd gone to see his beloved Zelda. The new Zelda waited and he returned an hour later and began eating breakfast; she said she was going for a walk and went to the grave
"I see you later Zelda Franks," he said cheerfully.
Zelda was stunned and went back and asked him how he'd learned her true surname; it was her greatest secret.
"Zelda told me," he said, attacking his tree ripened fruits. She stamped her foot at his ridiculous comment and walked off wondering how on earth he'd found out.
During the walk to the beach Zelda reflected on a terrible time in her own past. Eight years earlier when and training in film direction Zelda had a horrendous skiing accident – losing control and crashing into rocks, suffering severe head injuries. She remained in a coma after surgeons removed pressure on her brain but her family was called in to be with her for her last hours.
It was a terrible time for her parents, three surviving grandparents and brother and two sisters. Finally the family agreed with the medical team and Zelda was taken off the life support system. The family went back to their motels after arranging to return in the morning, as the doctors had said it would take eight to twelve hours before the end came. But her mother, Elizabeth, stayed on.
Sometime during the night as her mother would relate a year later, Elizabeth snapped out of her doze to find her daughter bathed in a yellow light and dimly made out the apparition of a beautiful young woman in minature, about her daughter's age with hair down to the middle of her back, at the centre of that light.
Elizabeth rubbed her eyes, disbelievingly, but the image remained.
She saw Zelda's body convulse twice, then the alarm systems sounded and she could hear hospital staff running down the corridor towards the room.
Then Elizabeth saw an incredible event – the yellow light that had been hovering over the head and chest of Zelda began to seep into the body of her daughter.
Elizabeth was a religious person and said aloud: "My daughter is going to be an angel."
The emergency team rushed in and Elizabeth was brushed aside.
Suddenly a nurse shouted – "We have a heart beat" and then Elizabeth saw the black bellows of the oxygen machine tremble, partly inflate once or twice and then within seconds began regular operation.
"She's in remission," said the young doctor and by the time the senior night surgeon arrived all of Zelda's vital functions were normal, according to the monitors.
"I don't know how this has happened but your daughter's um, life forces are identical to those of a healthy young woman on her age," the surgeon said to Elizabeth, looking bewildered. "How long she will sustain this recovery is anyone's guess."
By the end of the week Zelda was discharged from hospital as all tests revealed no medical abnormalities. She was told to take it easy for the next month.
Now, walking to the grave of her namesake, Zelda remembered the time that her revival was recorded: 1.27 am on April 4, 1997 - a time and date she'd always remember.
At the grave she read the simple inscription: 'In loving memory of Zelda, beloved wife of Frederick Vaughhagen, who died tragically, April 3, 1997'.
Zelda was startled – what an amazing co-incidence, she though – my namesake died the day before my near death.
The couple went by fishing boat back to the mainland then took an internal flight to make their connecting flight home, staying overnight. They had a lovely five hours shopping and exploring the local markets. They then parted for an hour. Sixy-seven minutes later Zelda was waiting impatiently for Freddie to return. She went for a short walk to look for him and just as she came around a grove of palms and entered the square there was Freddie walking toward her.
"Freddie!" she called.
He looked at her grinning, and held out his arms. She raced into them and he kissed her – not a gentle kiss of a friend, but a real kiss.
"Oh Freddie," she said. "I've got to sit down for a moment. I've wanted this moment to come, wanted it so desperately, but now it has come I'm overwhelmed."
They sat down.
"Recovered?" he asked.
She nodded and went to stand but he held her back.
"Zelda, will you please marry me?"
Zelda found she was surprisingly calm, and said, "Yes of course, dear Freddie."
He pulled from his pocket a small velvet box and opened it, and they both looked at the diamond ring.
"It won't fit but we'll get it adjusted as soon as we arrive back home."
But that wasn't necessary, the ring fitted perfectly.
They had eleven hours before their flight to America departed so they returned to their hotel and went to bed. They made love for the first time tenderly, like young lovers; the second time it was more athletic and the third it was full on with years of frustration and celibacy being unleashed for Freddie and years of personal relationship frustrations dissolving for Zelda.
In the sated aftermath, with Freddie in exhausted sleep, Zelda recalled something her mother had told her very privately, a year after her miraculous recovery. He mother had been so certain she was awake when she saw the vision and golden light – the apparition was of a young woman.
Waiting to board the aircraft two questions came into Zelda's mind. She had no problem asking Freddie for the information because since being on the island they'd talked about his first Zelda as if she was almost with them.
"Did Zelda have short-cropped blonde hair like me?"
"She had blonde hair, but it was long."
"How long?"
"Down to the middle of her back."
Zelda's heart was racing. Just another question darling – I hope you don't mind but I feel now that I am part of Zelda's life. What time did she die?
"No one knew other that sometime late morning."
At the airport Zelda went over to a woman using a laptop. She already was aware there were a day's difference between her near-death and Zelda's death but in the square waiting for Freddie, Zelda had remembered the influence of time zones.
The French woman, who'd been playing a computer game, obligingly went to the desktop of her computer that illustrated time zones on the map of the world.
This was only a visual check because Zelda already knew what she was going to find.
She counted back the time difference on the display and sighed: When it was 1:27 am in Los Angeles the time at the approximately latitude of the Isle of Dankamorgun was 11.27 the previous day. That meant at the time she lay near to death, Freddie's wife Zelda was possibly dying or already dead.
During the long flight home she asked Freddie to tell her what he could about Zelda and her time with him."
"I think you know pretty much all of it now – why this interest?"
"I'll tell you later, Freddie. "You go first."
She smiled when he spoke of her happiness on the morning of her death; it was not unusual for her to go swimming alone.
"Right, yawned Freddie. "Your turn."
"When I get back home I'm going to engage a scriptwriter to tell the story of Zelda, you and me and it's going to be called, with your permission of course, 'Freeing Zelda.'
"But why?" asked Freddie, bemused. "You never met her."
"Tighten your seat belt, Freddie. I'm going to tell you something that's going to blow you away."
When she'd finished Freddie looked at her, wide-eyed and said, "My God. And you really believe it?"
"Yes, all of us at times come across seemingly apparent coincidences that we'll shrug off. On other occasions the apparent coincidences may be so strong we may say, oh well, perhaps. And then there are ones like this, bringing us face to face with something we cannot disregard.
"I believe my mother saw what she saw, Freddie. Initially I found I could not believe what she told me about it; then on island I began to get the feeling that perhaps mom did witness some sort of spiritual happening, but then after taking into account the time zone differences, I became a complete believer.
"Tell me Freddie, why did you suddenly decide to visit the island?"
Freddie placed his head in his hands and said, "Oh God, Zelda, you do ask some very penetrating questions at times. On the night of the awards in the cab going home, you were on my shoulder virtually out on your feet.
"I put my head against yours and heard her calling to me – it was almost like the sound of the wind through trees.
"It's nothing spooky, Zelda, like her saying come home and say goodbye to release me.
"This voice said: 'Take your friend to the island and let her see it and allow me my final look at my homeland'."
Zelda stroked Freddie's face.
"You are confident you heard her say that?"
"Yes, absolutely"
"Well then, we'll be going back to the island to shoot film – you'll be technical director – and after that once a year we will take Zelda back to see her island home."
Freddie wiped his eyes with his fingers.
"You're not the hard-ass bitch that everyone appears to think, are you dear?"
"Not when I'm with you and Zelda, darling."