This is the last and final chapter to this story. Thanks for reading the first part of the story and for all the responses.

I will submit another part to 'Why' as soon as I have finished editing it.

*****

Chapter Ten

Did I watch the video? Fuck no! I was never going to watch another home made video. Instead, I handed the DVD over to my divorce attorney and he watched it. He had to watch it anyway to determine the legality of it. Actually, he hired a consulting attorney, and they both decided the video's legality. Satisfied as to the recording's proper legality, they made copies of the video and sent them off to the various people that needed to be informed. Including Richards, who I hadn't seen or spoken to since that fucked up morning.

Ambivalence is what I felt toward Shela's decision of donating her body to science. I had no control over what would happen to her body, and although that seemed wrong to me, I can't deny that I also felt relief knowing I wouldn't have to deal with the details, and the memories that would no doubt spring up.

Also, part of my indecisiveness was the distinctive lack of the wake and burial that comes with a traditional funeral. There is something strangely surreal about not having a body to bury. In some ways, it's like the death never occurred, and it played out more as a rehearsal, during the only notation of Shela's passing, her memorial. Everyone who'd known Shela attended. Even her family came, although they kept their distance from the other attendees, most especially me.

In the end, I felt that Shela wasn't really gone. That she would continue to plague me.

The one person I'd not seen at the memorial was Richards. It was a good thing. I didn't want to talk to that son of bitch ever again. However, the universe enjoys playing a good joke every now and then, on us insignificant and powerless humans. Just to remind us just how insignificant and powerless we truly are.

I had asked my divorce attorney to run the gambit between myself and the police concerning their capture of that guy Gary Strausberg and anything else concerning myself. Initially he refused but eventually, despite his misgivings, he agreed. Months went by, Amber had recovered from her weakened state almost immediately upon beginning therapy. Then she received her leg. Amber was now walking nearly effortlessly with her prosthetic. Naturally, that made everyone involved, happy. Including, yours truly. Until...

"How was your trip, Joe?" asked Amber, as she prepared dinner for us.

Her parents had finally returned home to North Carolina. So it was just Amber and I at our place.

"It went well, but I didn't like having to go to the office on the same day of my return. I'd much rather have been here with you, baby." I said, as I made to wrap my arms around her. She giggled and stepped aside rather agilely, causing me to miss kissing her on the nape of her neck.

"Hey! What gives, baby?" I asked, somewhat surprised she could move so quickly on her prosthetic leg.

"Nothing, Joe. I just want to finish dinner." she said a little testily.

Amber and I had yet to tie the knot. I was ready, but it was at her insistence we wait. Amber's reasoning; she wanted to be able to walk and stand on her own at our wedding, and to be able to dance at our reception. I thought she was ready, but she argued she wasn't. It had become an old argument that I had no hope of winning.

"Okay. Okay. So how goes the therapy? Have they said anything about when you'll be done with it?" I asked, returning to the old argument.

A troubled look passed across her face before shaking her head in exasperation. "No, Joe. They haven't. Anyway, I don't feel as if I'm ready. Now, can we talk about something else?"

Sighing with resignation, I used the same ammo as I had multiple times before. Of course, I worded it differently before each use. "Perhaps, you're holding on to the therapy sessions because as long as you keep going, you don't have to make any decisions. Or, commit to other things."

"Go wash up, Honey. Dinner will be ready in about five minutes." she said sweetly.

Amber had neatly deflected my salvo, by simply ignoring it. I wasn't defeated yet, but I keenly felt the need to develop a different approach, so rather than argue, I went to do what I'd been told.

By the way, I had spoken to Lucia a couple of times, trying to convince her to work for me. I'd offered to pay for her entire family to come to the US, as added inducement. But, she remained unmoved. She was not going to live and work so far from her home country. Despite Lucia's continued refusal, I hadn't given up on her, yet.

For awhile, after Shela's death, Amber had become distant toward me. Eventually, Amber explained, in great detail, the slow but certain progression of Shela's mental and emotional downfall. I could see the pain on her face and hear it in her voice as she spoke quietly about it. There was even a whimsical note in her voice when she spoke of her and Shela's friendship and it's inevitable dissolution.

About a month after the memorial, Amber returned to her old self. For the most part. There was still something amiss, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

I should take the time out at this point to grudgingly admit that Amber and I had yet to involve ourselves with the physical aspect of our relationship. I was way past wanting to. However, Amber was reluctant to commit to that as well. So, we slept in separate bedrooms and enjoyed much the same level of intimacy as we had in Paris. Not to say we didn't get hot and heavy sometimes, but Amber always managed to control herself well enough to dash cold water on my raging needs and mindless desires. As she had become fond of saying, "No means no, Joe!"

By this time, if anyone had bothered to look up the term 'blue-balls', no doubt the definition would have stated, 'Reference Joe Pleasent'

Amber gave me all sorts of excuses for not having sex, her two main stays being she wanted to wait until we'd married, and embarrassment at having a missing leg. I was crazy in love with the woman, leg or no leg, so I bid my time.

As we sat eating and conversing about nothing of import, my phone rang.

Normally, I look at who's calling, but my mind had wandered as Amber spoke of her day and without thought, I answered.

It was Richards.

~N~

"Okay, Lieutenant. I'm here."

Here was Barney's Tavern and Grill, a rather popular watering hole in the Bronx. As with most places in the Bronx it was an old building, partitioned into a couple spaces, barely modernized and off-handedly converted to its present use. It was a shotgun of a space, that is to say, it was narrow and long. One wall had a row of booths and the opposite wall had a long bar top.

Richards sat at the bar, sipping at a amber colored fluid out of a shot glass. At my announcement, he let out a loud whoosh of air and carefully placed the shot glass down. I noticed three empty shot glasses near the half full one.

Without looking at me, Richards asked rather demandingly. Or maybe it was challengingly. "Sit. Wanna drink?"

I sat and called out to the nearby bartender, "Scotch. Neat."

We sat wrapped in silence, until I had my drink. Richards lifted his glass, obviously waiting on me. I followed suit.

"Slainte!" he proclaimed, and with that downed all the amber fluid in one smooth swallow. As did I. I'd heard the word before. It was used as an old Irish toast, alluding roughly 'to your good health.'

While he gestured at the bartender for refills, I asked him what was so important that we had to meet at a bar.

In answer, Richards asked a strange question, "How are you and your girlfriend getting along?"

The hairs on my nape sprang straight up. I don't know why, but of a sudden I felt I was in dangerous waters. So I shrugged, replying cautiously, "Okay. Why do you ask?"

Ignoring my question, Richards asked a couple of others. "Has she been acting strange? Doing anything unusual?"

The bartender placed fresh drinks in front of us, Richards grabbed his, lifting it once again. "To no better friend and no worse enemy, than yourself."

As soon as our glasses hit the bar top, he asked, "Well?"

"What's this about, Lieutenant?" I was tired of Richards' cat and mouse game and I wanted straight answers.

Visibly angered at my impudence, Richards heaved a a great sigh, and just as obviously relaxed. "Answer my question, Joe, and I'll explain."

I wasn't sure how to answer that, since I wasn't sure of my misgivings that I'd felt toward Amber. "I don't know. Maybe."

"What do you mean?"

Struggling to mentally formulate a rationale for what I considered odd, I said, "I'm not sure. I can't put my finger on it. I've tried, but nothing. Amber seems different. I just don't know how."

Richards gave me a sharp look. "Do you think she's cheating on you?"

"What?! No!" I said surprised.

He'd ask the question very nonchalantly, almost innocently, but regardless of his intent, the result was the immediate onset of doubt. Not that I had had doubt concerning Amber's fidelity, only that, because of Shela's actions, it was never far from the surface. And now, it rose like a submarine blasting out of the sea.

I tried to squash it, to force it back, and something must have shown on my face, for Richards nodded, saying, "It figures."

Confused, I said, "What figures? Do you know something?" Somewhat apprehensively, I continued. "Look, she's acting coy, even a little distant. At first, I thought it was due to Shela's death. But, it's been six months."

Richards looked at me, his grim face softening slightly. "Joe, I like you, despite you being a Grade 'A' asshole. Then again, I'm a Grade double 'A' asshole. So, I'm going to tell you what I know. First, you need to know that the information is classified. By that, I mean, you can't go spreading it, not even to your girlfriend. It stays with you. Got it?" Richards face squinched up as he voiced, 'classified', like it was some unholy word. Maybe it was.

After seeing my uncertain and confused nod, Richards went on. "I'm trusting you, Joe, because if this gets out, it means my career and prison for both of us. If we're lucky. Understand?"

I began to nod, but at his sudden frown, I spoke up, "Yes, I understand. Lips sealed. Mum's the word."

Nodding approval at my response, Richards gestured toward the bar, where two cold bottles of beer sat. The shot glasses had been cleared away. We drank, only without a toast.

Then Richards began his story and the reason I was there.

"A couple of weeks back, I was at One Pee Pee, as a case I'd been working on coincided with a case involving TTAG. We had just finished a preliminary-"

Before Richards could go on I asked, "What's tag?"

Annoyed, at the interruption, he snapped, "Terrorism Threat Analysis Group. Can I continue?"

"Sorry. Sure."

With a menacing eye meant to quell any further interruption, he took up where he left off. "We'd just finished up with a information exchange session, when we took a break. During the break, one of the detectives assigned to TTAG came up to me and asked a few questions about Gary Strausberg. The detective had run across Strausberg's name during one of his investigations. His investigation also linked back to my investigation. He then shown me several photographs of Gary. Get this, they were recent photographs."

I wasn't exactly sure what that implied, but assumed that it was a good thing, at least based on Richards' excited reaction. Still, it sounded far more serious than I expected. "Where were the photographs taken? And, why is a anti-terrorist group interested in Strausberg? Is he involved with terrorists?"

Richards was sipping at his beer as I rapid fired my questions.

"He was somewhere in Lower Manhattan. No one is particularly interested in Strausberg as a terrorist, but he's been seen with a couple of people known to be members of domestic terrorist groups. We think he's trying to get out of the country, and terrorists are good at infiltrating their people back and forth. It makes sense that he'd try to contact a terrorist group to help him get out of the United States."

I took a long pull from the bottle and saw it was nearly empty. I also noticed my hand trembling slightly as it held the bottle.

This was too much. It was unbelievable and I almost said as much. But, in some way I knew Richards wasn't bullshitting. Gary running around with terrorists was almost incomprehensible in my world view. People, normal, everyday people simply didn't do that. Then again, normal people are the ones who do commit heinous acts, murdering loved ones, as Gary had nearly done with two women.

Then another thought struck me.

Richards had remained silent as I processed what he'd told me, but perked up as I sat up straight.

"Wait! Since he's trying to get out of town does that mean Gary knows the cops are after him? Or...damn! Is he trying to use terrorists to kill Amber?"

Rubbing his chin contemplatively, the Lieutenant slowly said, "I wish I could answer the first question with more than a I don't know. The truth is, he might know, and once he gets whatever escape plan set, then he just might try to go after your girlfriend. He's probably desperate, and that makes him very dangerous."

Before I could respond to his statement, he went on without a pause.

"No, he won't be recruiting any terrorists to help him with getting to Amber. For one thing, terrorists don't operate that way. They want a prime target with multiple causalities that combined will be of such a magnitude that the event will be on national media. For them, it's all about making a big splash and causing terror."

"Goddamn! What are you doing to stop him? Fuck! You know where he is. Or was. I mean, come on. Here you are sitting, drinking beer, telling me all this like you haven't a care in the world." I guess I'd raised my voice, because a few heads turned our way.

"Easy, Joe. I didn't say that we weren't going to go after him. And we never stopped looking for him. But, with the Feds and the NYPD anti-terrorist task force involved, I don't have any control of how the situation is going to be handled. I'm not involved with anti-terrorism, so I'm off the case."

I shook my head in denial and disbelief, saying, "So who do I have to talk to about this?"

"No one! I told you all that in confidence. One word out of you and we're both going down. So keep your trap shut!"

He was right! And now I'd damned Amber. We both sat, stewing in silence percolating in our own thoughts. I did notice that instead of beer the bartender had set out two coffees. Black.

"There's more. One of the persons Strausberg has been seen with, works at the same physical therapy clinic your girlfriend goes to. The other detective shown me part of a report." He held up his hand, saying, "Let me finish.", just as I was about to interrupt him loudly.

"The guy, his name is Trey Pooley. He's a prosthetic leg therapist and is your girlfriend's therapist. The task force and my own department is keeping a close eye on him, especially when Ms. Morton is with him. And before you ask, there's nothing going on between them. Anyways, not of a romantic nature. That's why I asked if you knew anything. But, don't go getting all crazy and run off half cocked to confront your girlfriend. Okay?"

What the hell? "So, what am I supposed to do? Why did you tell me all this if you didn't want me to do anything?"

"Look. I have a suggestion. Why don't you and your girlfriend get out of town. No fan fare, no glamor, no planning. Just get up and get out. Stay gone until- Well, until it's over."

I was ready to reject Richards' suggestion offhand simply out of spite, but as the idea sunk in, playing around in my mind, it began to seem more and more reasonable. It would also give Amber and myself a better chance to reconnect, as I was definitely sensing a widening rift between us.

But, where to go? Then it struck me as suddenly and unexpected as a winning lottery ticket.

"Yeah. Actually, that sounds like a damn fine idea, Lieutenant! Thanks. I think we'll do just that."

"Good. And Pleasent- Don't fuck me over on this. I know we've had some problems between us, but- Well, we're on to the asshole, and soon this case will be closed. We probably won't see each other again. So, whatever you're feeling and thinking, put it behind you. For both our sakes. Okay?"

Actually, I wasn't as angry as Richards thought. I'd had time to get over a few things. I would never like the guy, but I could live with that. I think he could too.

"Sure, Lieutenant Richards. I agree. Just catch the motherfucker! Okay? I don't want him to ever have a chance to harm Amber. Call me when it's over. When you've got him, or he's dead."

Sliding off the bar stool, he stretched and rubbed his face, saying, "Well, I guess this is it. Good luck. I'll call you as soon as we have Strausberg in custody. Or, he's dead."

Knowing our meeting was done, I also stood.

Then he did something that utterly took me by surprise. He stuck his hand out to shake.

At times we're programmed to automatically respond in kind, especially in exchanging greetings. In my line of work it was ordinarily assumed one would shake hands without much thought given to the gesture. It was just one of many business formalities that meant very little to most people. Yet, right at that moment, it was a gesture that represented many things, and cemented other things together. With heavy thought I grasped his hand and shook it firmly.

He gave me a slight smile, which for some reason, I thought looked sad.

As he released my hand I unpocketed my billfold to pay for the drinks and coffee, but he waved me off, saying he had it

I shrugged and left. As I walked to my car, thoughts of the past and the present passed through my mind in a disturbing and confusing parade.

~N~

It wasn't easy convincing Amber that we should take off for awhile. She balked at the idea and knowing what I know knew it also wasn't easy to not accuse her of things. Things that might just have her arguing against going anywhere that took her away from her therapist.

"Seriously, I think this is a great opportunity to go places and do things we might otherwise never get a chance to do. My work has giving me three weeks off, and with as many flyer miles I've accumulated it won't cost all that much."

"I know Joe. It sounds great, but my therapy and -" began Amber for the umpteenth time.

"Listen, we both know that you're as far a long as you can get. I know you've been going to therapy because," Had I detected a look of concern on her face? "you don't feel you're ready. The thing is, we all know you're more than ready. Come on, Amber, even your parents are beginning to wonder what's going on."

She shook her head in denial, but at least she wasn't openly arguing anymore.

"I'll make you a deal. Let's go and if you feel you need more therapy upon our return, I won't stand in your way. I won't argue about it and I won't try to convince you otherwise. Fair enough?"

"I don't know, Joe. What if-"

"Please, Amber. What if the sun doesn't rise in the morning? What if aliens landed on the White House lawn tomorrow? What I'm saying, worrying about things that haven't happened and will probably never happen is a waste of time and breath."

Amber searchingly looked at me, her eyes trying to discern some hidden meaning in mine.

"Where would we go, Joe? That is, if I agree to go."

I smiled my best smile, one that shown not because of mirth, but because of triumph. I had her!

"I was thinking of France. Paris, maybe."

"Oh." Her face changed from honest curiosity to closed uncertainty. "Why there?"

"I thought we could see those sights you didn't get a chance to visit when you were there last. And, if we play our cards right, we might get an invite to a very exclusive dining experience. Come on, what do you say?"
"It does sound good, but what dining experience are you talking about? Where?"

"You know the who, not just the place. It'll be Lucia at her own home! She invited us to visit if we get up her way."

"Lucia is still in Paris? After all this time?" asked a amazed Amber.

"Yeah. She is. She works for one of the other company executives. Apparently, he and his wife appreciate her cooking as much we do."

Sighing, Amber lowered her head and walked a few paces. She really had become very good at walking on her new leg. I really couldn't tell she was missing a limb.

"Okay. I'll go, Joe. But, please don't expect anything more from me than what we have right now. Alright?"

Instead of replying right away, excited as I suddenly was, I grabbed her and lifted her up into my arms, kissing her. "Thanks, babe! I know we'll have a great time! Just wait and see."

At her giggling request, I set her back down, but instead of a joyful smile I spied a sad little smile, one I hadn't expected, to be sure, but one that didn't surprise me either.

~N~

Paris was everything I remembered of her. We even stopped by my company's Paris office to pay our respects and enjoy a bit of nostalgia. We visited several of the city's sights, enjoying the scenery and I hoped, each other's company. We also managed to visit with Lucia and her family and dine with them at their home. Most days, Amber seemed her old self. Then there were those odd times when I caught her staring off into nothing, her eyes seemingly lost, and I somehow knew that whatever had captured her thoughts it wasn't anything to do with Paris.

And then, two weeks into our stay, my phone rang.

It was early morning. The sun's rosy rays had barely risen above the horizon. I was dreaming, I knew that at the time, although now I can't remember what the dream might have been about. Whatever the dream was, the phone's ringing was a welcome respite from the dream's clutches. That I recall.

"We caught him!" shouted the voice on the other end of the phone, and for a brief instant my confusion ran rampant. And then, it struck me.

"Richards?"

"Yeah. It's me. We caught Gary Strausberg!"

"Wha- How- I mean- Great!" I said enthusiastically, with a wide yawn. "Have you talked to him?"

"No, we haven't questioned him, yet. We apprehended him about two hours ago. He's still being processed. I called you as soon as I returned to the precinct. And here, I am!" he explained with what I swear sounded like laughter in his voice.

"Thanks, Lieutenant Richards. I appreciate the call and the news even more." I said sincerely, stifling a impending yawn.

"Sure thing, Joe. Sure thing. I'm off, you enjoy your vacation. And-" began Richards as made to disconnect.

"Wait! What about that other guy? Uh- Trey Pooley." I asked in concern.

"What about him? He's clean. We questioned him extensively, and he admitted Strausberg was trying to get him to kidnap Amber and take her to him. And, Strausberg was willing to pay a lot of money. About fifty-thousand."

"What?" I shouted, all shrouds of sleep instantly gone.

"Take it easy, man. Strausberg didn't have a chance. Poole played as if Strausberg was slowly wearing him down, but in reality he was already cooperating with one of our other detectives. Poole was working as a CI."

"A what?" I asked, dumbfounded by the news.

"A CI. Confidential Informant."

"Okay. I knew what that meant. Just sounded strange coming from a real cop and not some actor playing a cop."

Sighing, Richards, said, "If that's all, Joe, I've got some sleep to catch up on."

"One more thing. Why didn't Poole take the money and go through with Strausberg's plan?"

"Why would you ask that? He didn't. Leave it at that." Richards was becoming irritated, I could tell, as I'd caused it often enough.

We went back and forth for about a minute before Richards, with a heavy sigh, said, "If you want to know

that bad, go ask your girlfriend." I heard the distinct click of disconnection.

~N~

It was the day following Richards' phone call that I told Amber about it.

We had just left the Louvre, although I don't understand a lot of the work displayed, Amber seemed to enjoy it, so I enjoyed it as well. Afterwards, we had stopped at a nearby café to rest our feet and enjoy a surprisingly good cup of coffee. The time I'd previously spent in Paris had taught me several things and one of the most important of those lessons was that the French couldn't brew a decent cup of coffee to save their lives. Times had changed tho.

I watched for a moment as a Amber bit her pastry, chewed, and then sipped at her coffee. I tried to photograph that moment in my mind for ever more.

"Amber, this has been one of the best times of my life. Us here. Us together."

"That's so sweet, Joe. I've enjoyed our time together too." Amber replied in a soft voice.

No use sugar coating it or beating around the bush.

"Amber, Richards' called yesterday."

She was about to take another bite of pastry when she stopped and looked up at me in startlement.

"What did he want?" asked Amber in a near whisper.

"They caught Gary Strausberg."

Something flickered in her eyes, what that might be, I wasn't sure, although I assumed it was relief, but her face hadn't changed expression.

"That's great, Joe. I'm glad they got him. I know you're feeling the same."

Nodding, I said, "I am."

Without hesitation, Amber replied, "There's more. Isn't there, Joe?" Was she now acting apprehensive?

I nodded once more. "Your physical therapist, Trey Poole, he was involved."

Amber winced, then sighed. "What happened to Trey?"

"As far as I know, nothing. He helped the police."

This time, Amber's relief was evident as her face softened and her shoulders slumped.

I looked at her, or tried to, but she turned away from my gaze.

"What's going on, Amber? What is Trey Poole to you?"

She raised her eyes, but didn't meet mine, saying, "What do you mean? He's my physical therapist."

"Please, Amber. Be honest. What's going on here?" I swallowed as I braced myself for her reply. But all she did was turn her head to stare across the street.

My head was beginning to pound, but I pressed on. "Do you and Poole have something going on, Amber?"

Amber looked at me in shock, while shaking her head. "No! Nothing. He- He's been very helpful in teaching me how to cope with my- Disability." she said with a wry grin.

"Okay. So-" and I began to tell her of my conversation with Richards before leaving New York city. When I was done, Amber was quiet, perhaps contemplative.

We sat in mutual silence for about a minute, our coffee growing cool.

"He likes me. He even says he loves me. Even so, I'd never go behind your back, Joe. And yes, Trey told me all about what Gary wanted of him. I trusted him so I told him I'd help him and the cops to capture Gary."

"Do you love him, Amber?" I finally asked the simple question that had become my fear.

Amber stared at me, her eyes moist, as she said, "Yes, Joe. I do."

Her words had stopped time. Just like that, all the sounds of the people, the cars and the animals had become silent. And everything came to a standstill as the words filled my brain and heart with their meaning and intent.

"But, not in the way you might think. I love him for being a true friend. For helping me learn to accept my condition. And for teaching me how to use my new leg. But, I could never love him in the way he wants and I would need to, to be with him."

As a torrent of heavy rain plunges down from the sky, her following words hit me with a flood of sensations with such force that I was deafened by the sudden calliope of sound and blinded by the scenes around me.

My heart pounded in my chest with both fright and relief. My head felt like a balloon about to pop. My body trembled with tension, and yet I couldn't remember ever feeling better than I did at that moment.

My world was whole once again.

~N~

One Year Later

The man strode purposefully across the busy street, his arms swinging easily. His face was both stoic and authoritative in its look. His eyes darted constantly as if looking for hidden snipers. His clothing, a three piece suit, was smartly donned and fir like it was tailored. Not that the suit was custom fit, as he had the build that

lent itself to looking good in anything the man wore.

The man was neither in a hurry nor slacking, but anyone noticing could tell he walked with a definite aim in mind.

His path took him down a short but well packed assemble of various New York eateries along the sidewalk. In one of those establishments sat a young blond haired woman. She was enjoying the local cuisine in the form of a fully loaded hot dog. As she prepared to bite down she happened to look out the window and see a man she recognized.

Without thought, she leaped to her feet, hot dog in hand and rushed outside.

The man was already past the entry door and all the woman saw was his quickly receding back. He would soon be lost in the crowd that milled to and fro on the sidewalk. Instead of running after him, she screamed.

"JOE! JOE PLEASENT!"

The man walked a few more feet before coming to a stop. He looked around with a quizzical expression before he began to stride forward once more.

"JOE! PLEASE STOP!"

This time the man turned completely around, at that action, the blond woman began to excitedly wave with her freehand above her head. "JOE! HERE! I AM HERE!"

The man looked at her with a strange expression before walking toward her.

As the man drew near, the young woman ran forward and hugged him.

"Joe! I am so happy to see you!"

The man tried to extricate himself from her embrace while scanning the crowd that passed by them.

"I'm not-" started the man before the woman interrupted him.

"How have you been, Joe? Have you been- uhm- ill? You look different." rattled off the woman, as she let go of the vastly relieved man.

"I'm not-"

"Come with me, Joe. We can sit and talk about things. How do you say? Catch off on things?"

Grinning at the woman's accent and use of English, the man said, "Please. Come with me. We can catch up on things somewhere else."

"Okay. You lead and I will follow.' agreed the young woman. "How wonderful and so amazing we see each other in a city with so many millions of people. Is it not?"

Laughing, the man said, "I can't argue with that. It's almost a miracle."

"Yes, a miracle! It is a miracle. I like that, Joe. Almost a miracle."

The woman kept up a chain of chatter while the man kept his amused silence, and before long they entered a rather posh eating establishment.

"Joe! This place is so nice. But, I brought my food from the other place." The woman explained while displaying her hot dog to the man, who burst out laughing. He hadn't noticed what she's been carrying.

"Come on. We're almost there." said the man as he once more moved with purpose.

"But, my food-" said the woman.

"Keep it. You might need it. It's probably better than the stuff they serve here." guffawed the man.

"There he is! And he brought someone with him." spoke a sharp dressed, also blond haired, woman.

The younger woman approached the table slowly, unsure of herself. Joe had moved forward and now stood next to the seated woman. There was another man sitting at the table, but his back was to the younger blond woman.

"My apologies, dear, but as you can see, she followed me here. Can I keep her?" asked the standing man with a dead pan expression.

The seated man chose that time to turn and face the new comer.

"Bergit? My God! How- Where- My God! How did you find me? And how are you?" he said in astonishment while jumping to his feet.

The young woman addressed as Bergit, looked utterly confused and a little amazed as her eyes went back and forth between the two men.

"Joe? Is this you? Or is that you?" she asked pointing to the man nearest her.

"Yes, it's me! That other one is a only a close facsimile." he said with a warm smile.

"Joe! It is you! Oh- I hugged the wrong man!" admitted a embarrassed Bregit.

Joe and the seated woman turned to look at the other standing man.

"Hank?" said Joe and the woman in unison.

Somewhat uncomfortably, Hank explained, "I tried to explain I wasn't you, but I didn't get the chance before she hugged me."

A moment of silence reigned as the two absorbed what he'd said.

"A nice hug it was too!" added Hank with a wide grin.

Everyone laughed, except Bergit, who felt as if she were the butt of a secret joke.

Joe turned back to Bergit, saying, "This is my cousin Hank Pleasent and his wife, Rita. Please, Bergit, join us. We were just going to order lunch."

Agreeing, Bergit was seated by Joe, who then promptly sat next to her.

Lunch passed pleasantly enough for Bergit, who was told all about the cousins and their uncanny likeness to each other. In turn Bergit explained how she ran into Hank and they all had a good chuckle at the hot dog story. An hour passed before Hank and Rita stood, excusing themselves, explaining they had to return to work.

Finally alone, Joe, turned to Bergit and asked, "How have you been?"

"I am good, Joe. How are you?"

"I'm well. So, what are you doing in New York?"

"I work for the same company as before. They needed a assistant director. They offered me the job. Now, I am here! Isn't it wonderful?"

"Yes, it is, Bergit. I'm happy for you."

A few more minutes of exchanged amenities passed before Joe plunged onto a more personal track.

"What happened with you and your fiancée? I would have thought you'd be settled in as a wife and mother, living the happy dream of married life."

A delicate frown creased Bergit's features as she thought on how to answer that, or if she even wanted to answer.

"I went home. I was very ready for being married. Then he was promoted with his job. He went away for many months, and when he came back, he did not want marriage anymore. I was very hurt and I cried a long time. He was very sorry. He tried to explain- To tell me why he was not good for me. I was thinking he found another woman."

Bregit looked up, her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

"He is a good man. Like you. He had no other woman. He said he would travel much and did not want to be a- How do you say? A gone away husband."

Joe didn't know the phrase Bergit referred to, but took a shot in the dark. "A absentee husband?"

"Yes! A absentee husband! Thank you, Joe!" exclaimed Bergit in sincere appreciation. "I understand his thinking. I did not like it. I left and went back to France. I got job with same company. Then I come here."

Each was silent for a moment while they looked at each other, weighing multiple thoughts and wondering about their last night. How would it have turned out if she'd stayed?

Bergit broke the silence. "How about you, Joe. Are you divorced? Married?"

Joe filled her in on all that had passed since their last time they saw each other.

"When Amber and I returned from France, she had made up her mind. She wanted some time to decide things away from any influence. Including my influence. For a time, I was certain she was in love with her physical therapist, but as it turned out, it was a one-way street."

"I am sorry to stop you- Interrupt you, but what is it you mean with one-way street?"

Chuckling at the question, Joe explained. "It's when only one person of two people involved is feeling something that should be mutually shared and felt, or is the sole beneficiary in the relationship. Do you understand?"

Nodding her head vigorously, Bergit said, "I think so. Only one person is happy? Right?"

"Close enough." agreed Joe.

"Anyway, Amber left to stay with her parents. She didn't want me contacting her, so I didn't call or try to see her. A couple of months passed when she called and told me she wasn't returning to New York. Despite her love for me the memories she had of Shela and herself were too much. Also, being with me would remind her constantly of Shela, and the guilt she felt at abandoning her."

"She not abandon her friend! Her friend go crazy. Amber try to help." said Bergit in obvious agitation, her eyes glistening.

"I know. I said as much. But, Amber- Well, she'd made up her mind, and to make a long story shorter, she said it was over between us. After all we'd been through, it was over. That was nine months ago."

Bregit asked a few more questions and Joe filled in some bare spots. When he was done with the story, Bergit had tears in her eyes. A few had slipped out, rolled down her cheeks and dropped down to her blouse.

"I am sorry. Very sorry for you. I know you love your wife. Later you love Amber."

"Thank you, Bergit. I did love them both. But, it is what it is."

Sniffling a bit, Bergit asked, "What happened to the man, Gary Strausberg?"

Sighing, Joe replied, "He was waiting to go to trial, when they found him dead, hanging in his cell. The official cause of death is suicide, but Richards thinks he pissed off the wrong someone and they killed him. That happened a couple of months ago. Although I like the idea he's dead, I find his death unsatisfying. He should have been brought to trial, gotten the death penalty and felt the fear of impending death as he waited to be executed."

"JOE! That is very bad thought! He is dead. He has pay for his crime. I do not like idea of the death penalty. I do understand a reason for death penalty, but I do not always agree with reasons." cried out Bergit in anger.

"Sorry. It's just how I feel. Both Shela and Amber suffered greatly at his hands. He grievously injured and killed one, and maimed the other for life. For what? Because he was spurned? How could I feel otherwise?"

Relaxing from her agitation, Bergit apologized. "No, I will be the one to apologize. I know you loved your wife and this other girl, and you are a good man, so you are very angry. Very passionate at all this that happened. I understand. So I apologize for my- burst out."

Smiling, Joe corrected her gently, "That word is, outburst. And, apology accepted."

With a huge happy grin, Bergit said, "I accept, too." They laughed together in a joyous manner neither had felt in some time.

Several seconds of silence ensued as they gazed at each in wonder.

"Joe, can I be your enemy, too?"

"What? Why would you ask that? Do you want to be my enemy?" said a surprised Joe Pleasent.

"Yes. If you love me." replied a suddenly uncertain Bergit.

With a grin that slowly widened, Joe Pleasent sat back in his chair, as he thought about Bergit's unexpected admission.

"As the Good Book says, love they enemies. I guess I would have to love you, wouldn't I?"

Bergit's grin matched his own for a moment before the same delicate frown of earlier creased her smooth forehead. "Joe, what is good book?"

Laughing, Joe Pleasent spontaneously knew his life was forever changed and nothing could ever bring back what he once had, but change wasn't always bad, and maybe, just maybe the future would bring something even better than what he'd known.

Looking at Bergit, Joe decided it would definitely be better.