What was the inventor of DVR THINKING?!?!?!?

Today is Memorial Day. I say good job to those who served, including my technical ex who is a Viet Nam era vet, my adopted dad (WWII), my step father (Korean Era) and my late father-in-law (Korean Purple Heart Recipient). But I didn't BBQ. I didn't go fishing at the local lake like my tech ex and our oldest son. I will deal with the tech ex reference in a later blog. I am tied to my DVR. The DVR was a great idea in theory. You miss something because of work, work search (and I will cover that in a later blog, too) or something else...TA DAH!... you can record it! What is insidious is that SOMETHING always comes up when you sit down with that bowl of popcorn for the movie you didn't have time to see in the theater. My son has fire school, fire calls or studies for fire school. The tech ex prefers to channel surf and watch NASCAR to watching what is actually on. Inevitably they will come to me to with one of 3 inquiries: did I record it, will I record it or can they watch it. My DVR is full of stuff from HALLOWEEN 2011! To be honest, I love "Hocus Pocus", certain TCM movies that remind me of my late adopted mom and/or my birth mother and (recipes from) "The Chew" and "Swamp People". My oldest son is a prep cook at a local restaurant and loves to see a recipe executed. So I have been tied to the DVR to remove the stuff that I record during my job searches and interviews. I MUST have "The View", "General Hospital" and, occasionally "Anderson Cooper". At night I watch "The O'Reilly Factor" if I don't have to get up early. Then there is "On The Record With Greta Van Sustern". I watch "Hannity" only to see how out there he can get in 60 minutes and I yell at the TV. Fair and balanced? Not so much with Sean Hannity. It seems that I blink and my DVR only has 4 hours recording time left! ARGHHHH! C'mon!! Don't tell me that this started with the old school VHS! You could store mountains of VHS tapes and....ewww! That would make us hoarders!! Another show to watch! Curses!! The DVR is a vicious circle! Eat a pulled pork sandwich for me. I have 2 minutes to nuke a cup of noodle soup before I take the DVR off pause. I'm on a schedule here, folks!

The Gettysburg Zone Part 15

She remembered the tattoo for his birthday last year. She actually thought that that had been the end of it. While he never bent the boundries of her faith, for which she was glad, he did want to bend conventionality. Fortunately it was never anything visible to the outside world. With her teaching position, she had to be careful. Yes, her father was still a minister in town but....well....his reputation was his responsibility. But...oh...one of these days Karen was going to push the envelope on her husband. And, while she wouldn't do anything to jeopardize anyone's standing in Gettysburg, she wanted to make Paul rethink his ideas of fantasy and eroticism. She just didn't realize that it would be so very soon. But, his birthday was the twenty eighth. And Traci Cord needed her help on the day before...a Friday.
Traci had a job as a bartender at some little bar down around Thomasville way, on US30 between Abbottstown and York. It was pretty much a biker type of joint. But there were some lesbians and pool sharks that hung arou nd at the little bar. Traci had her eyes on someone that seem-ed to fit the last two criteria.. But she'd had her eye on that woman for at least a month. And for some reason she didn't seem to notice Traci. And Traci was smitten beyond belief! So, Paul got his bike for his midlife crisis even though he was no where near midlife . What was midlife? 40? 50? Who decided when folks were over the hill? Didn't we decide that personally? Wouldn't she know when she was over the hill before someone else did? Would something give out on her that was important? Would it take a Harley or a Mercedes to make to her feel young again? She didn't think so. She enjoyed the day to day existance that she believed the Good Lord provided her with. Yes, the tattoo and the pierced nipples were...different...and just a little more than exciting under the right circumstances. But she didn't need either to keep spice in her life. She only needed the attention of the one man that had had her heart from that fateful day when he'd scattered the church's mail!
Friday and Saturday nights were, as a rule , off limits becausse the weekends were for the kids. Paul worked and so did Karen. The children needed quality family time because neither of the them had had quality relationships with their folks and they didn't their kids cursing them in their teenage years. Karen knew that it couldn't be a late night because they were taking the bike. She couldn't drive the damned thing and he had a limit. He'd bought her some knee high lace up boots and a leather sleeveless shirt that was more like a vest. She dressed for the night like a true biker...with one exception. Her mother was babysitting at the Jefferson's house. And if she saw the outfit...well, Karen didn't want to know. She was 27 and the mother of two. Just suffice it to say, the less she had to explain the better. So she pulled a light leather jacket over the leather shirt/vest and zipped it to her neck. With any luck, she could kill two bothersome birds with one stone. It might cost her a night's sleep and a whole lot of praying for forgiveness, but it would be worth it.
Karen decided that the bike wasn't a bad way to travel if one didn't have to travel too far. But she didn't like the helmet. She was glad to get that off! She tied her hair back into a ponytail and pulled it through her Coors Light hat before going into the bar. Traci saw her and smiled broadly. She pointed to a woman shooting pool. She was a little older than Traci but very beautiful in a Demi Moore kind of way. Paul headed for the juke box and Karen headed for the bar. She pulled money from her pocket, ordered two longnecks and listened to her friend's heart troubles. The group Richocet came over the jukebox singing "Daddy's Money" and she frowned at Paul, who only smiled and shrugged his shoulders. She would always be his angel in a choir robe even though he'd never seen her that way. She'd given up choir in the tenth grade! She thought about his request for a stripper's pole in their bedroom. It wasn't against God to give him his fantasy...next year. But she didn't sew. Her mother did. Just how would she explain the need for a custom made choir robe, preferrably with velcro closings? She exhaled, closed her eyes and chugged her beer. She ordered another. She'd need it!
"So... what's the plan?" Traci asked. How do we pique her interest? Make her jealous?"
"This is a one shot deal. No retakes. You want noticed, I'm gonna get you noticed. Then I'm gonna get the hell outta here in case it backfires!" Karen replied in all honesty. "I don't need a woman in my life."
She wasn't sure how long she should drag the night out. She'd promised her mother that it would be early, not that Marjorie cared. She'd picked up the mantle of grandmotherhood eagerly. From keeping Heather while Karen went to college for her teaching degree and when Davey was born to encouraging them to go out to dinner just so she could babysit. Finally, during a game of pool, the opportunity arose. She snapped her finger for a beer. She had one sure shot at the eight ball. The timing was perfect. Traci had no idea what was coming...and neither did Paul. Traci brought the beer and handed it to Karen. But when she took the money, Karen grabbed her friend's hand so she couldn't leave. They locked eyes. Karen wanted so badly to back out, but she'd promised.
'Wh-What..."
If she didn't do it at that precise moment, she'd lose her nerve. She put her free hand on the back of Traci's head, entwining her fingers in the red curls. "Don't back out now, Traci," she told her. "Because of you and our friendship, I am a card carrying member of PFLAG. But I'm also very much a Baptist and everything you are conflicts with my beliefs. What I am going to do to make your little paramour jealous could very well cost me my salvation according to the Old Testament, but I am a follower of Christ. He associated himself with the dregs of society. You're my friend and I don't consider you the dregs of any society. Let's do this so I can leave! "
"What are you gonna do? If it might bother you...."
"You do not back out now! You wanted to be noticed, you're noticed." With those last words barely out of her mouth, she pressed her lips to Traci's for a kiss that lasted a good three plus minutes. When she released her, she downed the rest of the beer, sunk the eight ball even though her hands were shaking and jerked her thumb toward the door signalling time to leave.
In typical man fashion, Paul was definitely turned on. When she put her arms around his waist for the ride home, she felt it. Yes, he said he disin't want to share her when she was eighteen, but that didn't mean he wouldn't in his mind. When he killed the motor in front of their house and she got off the bike, all he could do was stare. As soon as the helmet came off, his lips were on hers and his hands on her breasts. She still couldn't control her response to that stimulation and it showed. She needed to get inside and send her mother home...quick! Thund clapped and she nearly jumped out of her skin. She dreaded lightning after the incident in 1994, afraid of where she might wake up. She liked her life as is. She unlocked the door with unsteady hands.
The sight burned into her mother's brain as she came down from checking on the kids was embarrassing to say the least. He had his lips pressed to hers, one hand on the wall by her head, one hand on her breast and her hopping on one foot trying to undo the laces of her boots. She ducked under his arm
and ran for the living room. He headed straight upstairs and she knew exactly why.
Marjorie Hampton was amused. She picked up her purse. "You've been married going on three or four years? Together for around eight? He still makes you ...uh...hungry? Got to be a record!"
She decided to open her vest and expose one of the gold hoops. It was her mother, after all. "He does his job just fine, but these make me weak. One in each." She shifted a little uncomfortably. Even the memory made her tingle! She was surprised that her mother didn't frown her disapproval. "No comment?"
She kissed her daughter's flushed cheek. "You satisfy him. He satisfies you. What's to comment on? I think God approves one hundred percent. The kids are asleep. Go upstairs before he cools down. I'll lock up when I let myself out."
She didn't wait for her mother to exit. She yanked off the boots and flew upstairs on stockinged feet. He was brushing his teeth when she slipped into their bedroom Heather knew not to walk in if the door was shut so she never locked the door. When he came out she was already in bed. The
sheet only covered half. He turned off the light and slipped beneath the sheets. She waited for his fingers to work their magic on her but he used his mouth on those hoops instead. The kids' rooms were way at the end of the hall. The few moans that escaped her lips couldn't have possibly woke them. But when the finish came for both of them, she was once again relegated to burying her head in his shoulder and biting her lip. She knew very well that it wasn't the memory of her kissing Traci that made what they'd done so incredibly exciting and erotic. It was the two of them. Fairy tales always had their happy endings. Well, the Battle of Gettysburg was no fairy tale, but Paul Jefferson was definitely her happy ending. And because of what she had done that night, Traci would finally get her hppy ending, too. Never underestimate the power of jealousy, especially in women!



Paul Jefferson tugged at his tie nervously as he waited for Karen to come out of the restroom. All she said she had to do was touch up her makeup but it seemed like she'd been gone forever, Finally he saw the flash of sapphire blue of the dress she was wearing. He latched on to her left arm like a drowning man would a life preserver. She laughed at him. They'd only been in Richmond for a few hours and he felt like a square peg in a round hole. "Don't leave me again...please!" he begged as they walked through the hotel lobby.
"It's only a high school reunion, honey." She hadn't even wanted to go but Paul had insisted.
"But these are your friends. Everytime I open my mouth I sound like an outsider!"
"You wanted to see what my ex-boyfriend looks like. Be honest."
"Aren't you curious?" Paul watched his wife's blue eyes scan the large room before returning to him with a devilish twinkle. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what was in her head but he felt compelled to ask. "It's been ten years."
She put her arm around her husband's waist. Normally she wouldn't have thought to mention what she was about to mention, but it could only put him ease. And she wasn't going to lie. "You know why I dumped him, right?"
"Because you caught him with someone else."
Karen took a deep breath. "He doesn't have what it takes to rock my world. I saw it, You, on the other hand...." She stopped at the sight of his blush and Chip Jackson was heading their way...flying solo of course. She wasn't the least bit surprised. "Now buck up, big boy. Here comes your imaginary competition now. You're gonna owe me for this, Paul Jefferson."
Paul smiled as she squeezed his hand. "And how am I expected to pay up?"
"In the room after this incredibly long evening...and I don't take cash or credit cards," she replied in a seductive whisper. "Chip! The things one sees without a gun." And she was only half kidding.




Paul cranked up the radio as he barrelled that Toyota Tundra southbound on U.S. 15. There was as accident on the PennsylvaniaTurnpike which made him late getting into the truck depot. It was Tuesday, October 25th, 2005. His wife was turning thirty. She'd left a message on his cell phone that the kids, Heather, aged 10, and Davy, aged 4, were at her mother's. She would try to wait up but tomorrow was a school dayfor her and she didn't know how late she could wait. Shania Twain was belting out "Any Man of Mine" and he laughed at the irony of that song when it came to his personal life. Karen Hampton Jefferson never demanded anything from her husband. But if he looked into her eyes, he could deny her nothing. To most of Gettysburg she was still the preacher's daughter and on two occassions she'd been voted Teacher of the Year by her colleagues. Most folks didn't remember the six months in the summer of 1994 when they all disappeared. But to her family she was a quiet force to be reckoned with. She'd forgiven her father but he was told in no uncertain terms to leave his religion on the front porch when he came to visit. That's not to say that she didn't pray and read her Bible. Paul knew that she did both. As she'd always told him, her relationship with God was personal and private and not defined by any organized religion.
She was still a Baptist but they'd been married by a priest in 1999. She took the kids to church two Sundays out of the month. She left it up to Heather to decide whether it would be Baptist or Catholic. Usually Heather would opt for Baptist. She had no patience for the ups and downs of her father's faith. Davy usually spent the entire time in Sunday School but Heather would sit there rolling her eyes at her Grandfather's fire and brimstone style of preaching...until she saw Karen's look of disapproval out of the corner of her eye. Karen gave 110% and expected her children to do the same thing. While Davy was pretty much too young, Heather had been brought back to reality many times by a well timed glare or frown from her mother. Karen didn't have to raise her hand. She demanded respect and she got it...plain and simple! He remembered all too well his wifes's talk with their daughter. Heather was ten and physically on the brink of womanhood. At least that's what his limited experience with women had told him. No, he wasn't in the room. He was within earshot. He really loved the look on Karen's face when Heather first told her about a boy in school that was "just so cool". Her head shot up from those test papers so quick! She ushered him out of the room not thinking anything about his Monday Night Football. Yes, there was the patented birds and the bees talk. But Heather wanted more.
"Mom, how do I find somebody like Dad?"
Karen's voice didn't falter. "You don't. If it is meant to be, you'll come together."
Heather seemed irritated. She didn't have her mom's coloring but she already had the long legs and she curled them under her. "More of the God stuff?"
"Yes...because we don't run anything, Heather! We think we do and we think that...we can shape destiny and erase the past. But we
don't have that power. I met your dad on chance and it was life altering. I love him and he loves me. But you have to know that sex won't create love. It can complicate it. And it can keep it from growing. Think, honey. That's all I ever want you to do. Think before you act." She watched Heather leave
the room and Paul take her place. "What do you want?"
"Our meeting was life altering?" he asked as he took a seat next to her. "I thought so, too. And I didn't know that you were a preacher's daughter then."
"Would it have made a difference?" she asked, turned those blue eyes on him.
"I don't know. Once I knew, well, you were..."
"A conquest." Her voice was flat and toneless.
"I guess I thought it was. But you showed me right path."
She was still uncomfortable about the Little Round Top episode. "I showed you my tits and everything else. We..."
"We had love. And I was too damned stupid to recognize it."
"But you wouldn't want our daughter making a spectacle of herself like I did."
"No! But I would hope that she gets a guy who knows..." He kissed her neck and nibbled her ear. "A guy who knows that the woman in his arms is a lifetime of love and he doesn't have to go that far to make it a reality."
"At least, if he does, we can hope he marries her. I love you so much, Paul Through the centuries and beyond."
"Me, too, baby. Me, too." The test papers and football were momentarily forgotten as she gave herself over to his kisses and his embrace. But he felt like someone was watching. He opened his eyes to find his daughter holding her little brother on her hip, shaking her head. Karen sat up and
straightened her shirt. Paul cleared his throat. "Uh..uh.."
Heather laughed. "That's what I want, daddy."
"Wh-what...?"
She leaned over the couch and kissed her father's cheek, careful to keep a firm hold on Davey. "I want someone just like you. But first I guess I gotta learn to be just like Mom."
He saw his wife's eyes widen. "No!!! You be yourself! The right guy will love you as you are."
Yes, to all who knew her, Karen was proper and dedicated. But if she reached too far over her head and her shirt came untucked from her low slung jeans, one might glimpse a flash of color. A graceful butterfly with rainbow wings perched on the delicately scripted name, Paul of course, just above her panty line at the base of her spine. She told her father that Paul had branded her heart so she'd branded her body. Richard Hampton could only shake his head and pray for the headstrong daughter he came way too close to losing. But as Paul neared Gettysburg, he smiled at what he called his wife's freaky side Yes, when she went to her classroom at Eisenhower Elementary, she wore a bra and modest clothes. Sometimes she wore jeans but nothing too tight or revealing. The teaching profession had suffered too many black eyes with teachers sleeping with their pupils. Karen's blond hair was either pinned up like she had at Angus's or tied back into a long natural blond ponytail. But when she set foot in her own home, the hair came down and the bra came off. Even after two kids, her breasts were firm and self supporting. Paul thought about the two delicate gold hoops piercing each nipple. He nearly fell over in a faint when he came home to find them. And the slightest touch by his fingers or mouth elicited a response that never failed to amaze him. He could damned near get her off with just a few well placed touches or kisses! He'd often thought that it could be dangerous to give anyone so much power but she relished in his touch and he felt like the proverbial king of his castle.
The preacher's daughter on the outside carefully concealed his temptress of Little Round Top! But even when she wasn't trying to be sexy, which was most of the time, she still was. Like when she was grading papers or going over her lesson plans and her hair was pulled back and her glasses were halfway down her nose...damn! If he'd had a teacher that looked liked her, he would have never quit school! She had that whole naughty librarian look nailed down without even trying. And when she put on those choir robes for his birthday, she very nearly blew his mind! She knew how to rock his world and never failed to do just that at every chance she got. He looked over at the seat next to him where he had a stromboli to warm n the microwave with the marinara sauce she liked, some fried mozzerella sticks with ranch dressing. There was a case of beer untouched because she didn't want him drinking and driving and a small bottle of Johnny Walker Red scotch. She couldn't stand it but she would give in like always. It was tradition to drink a shot or
`two on her birthday in memory of Angus. He couldn't wait to get home to her.
The Jeffersons had a modest country house on the Hunterstown Road. He drove a 4X4 black Toyota Tundra King Cab. Karen drove a gray 4X4 Jeep Cherokee. As he parked the truck he saw the glow of the television and the flickering of firelight. He quickly unlocked the door and tiptoed inside He sat the food and the scotch on the coffee table. She was sleeping peacefully on the massive leather couch in front of a fading fire. Country music videos played on the television. The kids were spending the night at her parent's house in town. He went to the kitchen and retrieved two shot glasses for the scotch and returned to the living room. He poured them both shots, sat them on the coffee table and started to quietly unbutton her shirt. With lightning speed her hands closed over his. He looked down into her eyes and smiled sheepishly. "Accident on the turnpike. Sorry."
She looked at the clock. It was nine thrity. He was three hours late but at least he was safe. "Tell me again why I helped you get your long haul trucking license?" She stretched. and let go of his hands, knowing they'd go back to work on her shirt.
"Because you love me and it's decent money." He opened her shirt and thumbed her nipples. Just like Old Faithful, he got the response he'd come to expect.
"Mmmmm...this waiting ...is getting old, Paul."
He kissed her neck, feeling the need to tease her about her birthday. "So are you, dear."
Her eyes flashed laser blue fire at him. "And what'll you do when I turn forty?"
He grinned. "Trade you in for two twenties?"
She frowned at him. "You won't live long enough! I've got ten years to plan the perfect crime." She sat up and closed her shirt with one button. She shook her head when he handed her the shot glass of scotch. "I'll pass, thanks."
He downed his and made a face. She was right. The stuff was nasty! They generally sipped Southern Comfort on the rare occassions when he got her to drink the hard stuff. But she did enjoy a cold beer without provocation from time to time, expecially over a game of pool during their very rare nights out. He enjoyed watching her bend over the table and it was hard for him to focus on his game. She usually won but he always won later. One of these days, I'll get a pool table for the house, he often thought. He watched her grab a semi-warm mozzerella stick and dunk it into the ranch dressing before popping it into her mouth. She wasn't volunteering any information but she never turned down a shot of scotch on her birthday!With the exception of the fever that came with her bout of pneumonia, not even when she was in 1863 amd pregnant with Heather Anne. Although he always thought that she'd discreetly spit that birthday shot out. He knew that she would put flowers on Angus McTavish's grave in Evergreen Cemetery soon if she hadn't done so already. He tried again with the scotch but she still refused. Bells went off in his head! "Karen..."
"What?!? I'm hungry!" She got up and took the food t0 the kitchen and put it in the microwave.
When she came back she let her jeans slide to the floor and straddled his lap. His body was on fire and he remembered their wedding night.
That night, she'd done it pretty much for his pleasure and to let him know just how very much in control she was. Tonight it was mutual. For a long time afterward he rubbed her back through her shirt and kissed her. He'd learned early on that he could never just roll over and go to sleep. If he did, it would be days before he would again sample her sweet charms. But that didn't seem like so much of a sacrifice after awhile. "What's gotten into you?"
She rested her head on his shoulder. "You. I've needed that all day."
He knew that she'd had parent/teacher conferences earlier in the evening. "Rough night?"
"No. You've just been on my mind all day and..." She tickled his ribs. "And you know how my mind works. That hasn't changed in eleven years."
"At least it's still me that trips your trigger and floats your boat," he teased.
She kissed his neck. "When it's not, I'll let you know. But don't plan on it anytime soon."
"M-m-mmm. I don't plan on it ever. Now...c'mon...let's toast Angus like we do every year."
She shook her head. "You know I hate the stuff."
More warning bells. "But you do it every year with few exceptions." He grudgingly let her get up. "Are you telling me that you want another baby?" he asked jokingly as he followed her to the kichen. She hadn't bothered to put her jeans on and the shirt barely covered her.
She got a coke from the fridge, handed him a beer and sat the stromboli on the table. "No, I'm not." She watched him take a pull of his beer.
"I'm telling you that there already is a baby...due the very end of June or the first part of July.. And if it's a boy, I want to name him Andrew." She ducked as he spit his beer toward the sink and tried not to laugh at him. "You're cleaning that up, buddy."
"You're pregnant?!?!" He counted on his fingers. His birthday! The stripper pole, that choir robe, the long blond hair and those pierced nipples. "You really are?"
She sighed and pulled a cheesy hunk of stromboli awy from the main piece. She knew he was watching her nibble the cheese. "No. I just wanted to yank your chain. Of course I am. Yes." He was grinning broadly. Men were pretty much predictable. The caveman or King Kong always lurked beneath the surface, ready to come out and thump their chests. "I think I'll get fixed after this one," she said absently, but knowing that she never would just in case her biological alarm clock ever went off again.
He smiled. "Fixed?"
"Snipped, spayed...whatever. Your father still thinks I'm a bitch, remember?" She took another bite.
"And you know exactly what I think about that. But you can name him Andrew if his middle name can be Lee like yours."
She held up her hand for his high five. "Deal." She watched him go to the living room and come back with the scotch. He downed the one he'd poured for her and was about to pour another. Her hand covered the glass. "Go easy on that. You're three hours late but I'm not through with you."
He shut the bottle and cocked his head. "Really?"
She sliced the stromboli properly and got plates. "Really. Did you know you were a fireman?"
He laughed and served them both. "Since when?"
She cleared her throat and took a long sip of her coke. "Your son...notice I said your son....told my parents that we have a fireman's pole in our bedroom. My mother put two and two together with the choir robe and broke up with laughter." She rolled her eyes heavenward. "My father now has serious doubts about my salvation...but he's had those doubts for years."
"Do you care?"
She shrugged and ate some of the stromboli. "I know where I'm going. It doesn't matter whether he knows or not. But I wish Davey would learn a little discretion."
"He's four."
"He's got a big mouth for one so little. I care about the fact that my father is probably seriously losing sleep over this...wondering just what I'm doing and how I'm doing it. But after all he's done to me...to us...and, yes, I have truly forgiven him...it is poetic justice.' She giggled.
"So the pole doesn't have to go?" he asked hopefully.
She shook her head. "Uh-uh. But tonight is my birthday and I'm not gonna be the one strippin'."
"Oh, you think so?" He gave her an incredulous look
"Baby, I know so. I don't mind giving you your fantasies, because I know it's me you want. Tonight you return the favor."
"How do I know you're not thinkin' of Brad Pitt or Ben Afleck."
"Because I'm not a man and I deal with the here and now. You've been the man I've wanted since you nearly knocked me down the Post Office steps. I don't need Brad Pitt or Ben Afleck to make me enjoy making love with the only man I've ever been with. I'm not embarrassed that I'm not worldly and experienced. You have what I want. You have what I need. You were my first and you will be my last." She got up and held out her hand to him. When he took it, she led him to the living room, pulled him tight against her and slapped him on the rear. "Now, number one husband, love of my life....strip, right here, right now because it's time for round two."



Marjorie Hampton sat on the couch next to her husband as he watched the news. She took his hand but he was too absorbed in what was happening in the Middle East. She remembered her father telling her that he didn't think she ever be happy being married to a minister. She had too much passion for life. Well, it hadn't always been smooth but she'd never cheated on her husband. And she had had been blessed with a beautiful daughter that had made things much more exciting. She had two wonderful grandchildren. She'd just gotten off the phone with Karen and in a matter of months there would be another one. "You're going to be a grandfather, " she said finally.
He dropped the remote and looked at her. "Again?"
She laughed and punched his arm. "Don't say it like that!"
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I meant that she's got a lot on her plate now. And Heather is growing up so fast. "
"Well, I'm thrilled and she is, too." She gave him a critical look. "Are you insinuating that Heather is going to bear...watching?"
"Uh...well...she seems to be her mother's daughter." He shook his head. "If Karen had married Chip..."
"She'd be divorced by now. Chip Jackson is on his second divorce because he can't keep his pants zipped," she finished for him.
"Do you think Paul ever cheats when he's on the road?"
Marjorie Hampton laughed. "He doesn't have to, Richard! They apparently have quite a satisfying intimate life."
Richard frowned. "The stripper pole?"
"Really, Richard! Why does that bother you so much? She's got her nipples pierced, too, but it doesn't bother me. It's not something I would do but..."
He rolled his eyes and groaned. "Her..." He couldn't say the word when it referred to his daughter's anatomy. "She got them pierced?!?! And don't forget the tattoo! What did we do to her?"
"Raised her right despite ourselves. And we moved here for her and Paul to find each other. I know you find it hard to believe, but he's the only man she's ever been with and..."
This time he finished her sentence. "And he's done some mighty strainge things to her."
She sat in his lap and put her arms around his neck. "You are never gonna like him, are you? You do remember that it wasn't Paul that made the first move, right?"
Reverend Hampton shuddered. "He could've walked away." He saw the look in his wife's eyes that he hated seeing. "And, if he had, Karen would've been miserable. I don't hate him. I just think he's a little over the top for my daughter."
"He's...he was a bad boy and good girls can't resist bad boys. And Karen is a very good girl. I know that in my heart. It shows in her profession and the way she raises their children." Marjorie Hampton rested her head on her husband's shoulder. She had the utmost faith in her daughter's parenting skills. Karen monitored Heather's time on the internet and there were strict parental controls on both the computer and the television. Bad language and sass were not tolerated in the Jefferson home. She knew Karen could and did curse from time to time, but never did so in front of the children. While Marjorie was quite certain that her grandchildren didn't fear their mother, she was equally as sure that they loved and respected her. And Karen always made time for the kids and made sure that Paul did, too. She certainly didn't learn that from her father.
He pursed his lips in thought for a second. "So how does that come around to us?"
She ran her finger over his lips. "You're not a bad boy, but you have your moments. You need to call your daughter tomorrow and congratulate her on the new baby."
"I will. She is happy, isn't she?"
"Rich, I've never seen her happier...and even after eleven years! Paul worships the ground she walks on and she loves him with all her heart and body. I've never seen a more perfect match."
He started to tickle her ribs, something he hadn't done in a long time. "Never? What about us?" She couldn't answer because she was laughing too hard!




Their third child, after sonogram testing, was determined to be due on July 5th. He decided to come into the world on July 2nd, 2006, three days before planned. There wasn't time for the C-section. Paul was just about to walk out of the house for a day and a half on the road when he saw a look in Karen's eyes that he'd never seen before. He would be back for the C-sectionas always. But there was a look of shock and surprise in her blue eyes. She'd been about to kiss him goodbye. He had to practically catch her as she doubled over. Davey was born by C-section and planned down to the last minute. While Paul had never seen his wife in labor, the look of shock in her blue eyes told him that, not only was she in labor, she was about to deliver. For a woman who knew what she wanted and how to facilitate it, she was in a panic! He kept her as calm as possible during the drive to the hospital. When her knuckles turned white as they gripped the sides of the seat, he knew she wanted to say something, but Heather and Davey were in the backseat. The murderous look in her eyes told him that whatever she wanted to say was probably directed at him. He was highly amused. It took only a second to drop the kids with grandpa. The hospital was a stone's throw away.
Richard Hampton was terrified by what he saw in his daughter's eyes. He remembered seeing it in Marjorie's eyes once a lifetime before. "Karen, honey, are you allright?" he asked. He had tried to put his hand on her shoulder but she pulled away.
"I'll be fine. I just want it over with, Dad!"
Paul got into the truck and headed toward South Washington Street and the hospital. "It's gonna be fine, baby. You've had the pain of the C-section before," he said, thinking he was being calming and helpful. He'd forgotten that Cajun temper.
"That was a minor discomfort! This fuckin' hurts...a lot!!! And don't call me baby. Don't even...oh, damn!...don't even say the word baby again!" She took a few deep breaths. "I know. I did this to myself. I wanted another one. But so help me...it stops now!"
Paul was getting impatient for the light to turn. When he saw the wide blue eyes of his wife tear up he missed the turn and had to wait for the next light. He unbuckled his seat belt and leaned over to wipe the sweat from her forehead. "Karen, is something wrong?"
"Besides the fact that I'm not supposed to go through this?!?! My water just broke. The contractions are starting to damned near overlap! The incredible pressure I'm feeling...oh, not again! " She gripped the dashboard so hard she left an indentation. "Th-That pressure is the baby's head. My
body wants to push and I'm holding back because I want to get to the damned hospital! Get this hunk of junk movin' and I mean now!"
They had just settled into a room in the maternity ward when all hell broke loose. No time for scrubs, anesthetics or anything else! The boy, Andrew Lee Richard Jefferson, screamed his way into the world less than seven minutes later completely naturally, much to everyone's surprise. Especially
his mother's. Considering she'd never been to a natural childbirth class, Paul saw his wife come through like a champ. But he was sure by the look in her eyes, he wouldn't live down her pain for sometime to come. Andrew would be the only child of theirs to carry the gene for his mother's deep blue eyes. Some-
how that seemed appropriate. And the irony of the date of Andrew's birth was not lost on any of the Travelling Seven as Marjorie Hampton had taken to calling them. It was the anniversary of the Irish Brigade drummer's death. Spookiness had become a way of life for them and it would follow them all until they died.
"I think I'm through with this now," she said matter of factly as he picked up his son. She loved the way her husband looked at his kids. Yes, she knew that he was scared that he would lapse into his father. Yes, he did drink. But he never, ever got drunk and no matter how angry he got, he never raised his hand. He said it was because of her that he'd found God. But she knew that his faith was inside of him all along. He just had to have some prodding and a reason to believe. And she was willing to give him that and more. They had temporarily removed the nipple rings but she knew that she would always want that man, with or without the stimulation of the rings. Damn! She did even five hours of delivering their son! He'd often referrred to her as God's gift, but she'd reversed that a long time ago. Paul David Jefferson was her gift from God. True, she had been using him to get over Chip. But God had had other plans. And she was happy with every one of them.
"You did just fine. And Angus was worried about your hips bein' too...what did he say?...too narrow? The doctor said it was one of the easiest deliveries he's ever seen."
"He didn't have this baby, Paul. I did and it hurt for way too long." She took the baby and the bottle. He was always too fumble fingered for the first two or three weeks. "And he only weighed in at six pounds, fifteen ounces. I shudder to think what would happen with a nine pound baby!"
"But in a year or so, you'll forget all about it." He could see the gears turning in her head and she smiled at him. "Yes? I know you're gonna say something smart."
"You have the fourth child and I'll have the fifth."
"Right."
She looked down at Andrew and knew that she didn't want a big family. Never had. She'd never honestly thought about having children much at all. But she had never wanted Heather to be an only child like her. It was just pretty much a given if it was in the overall plan for her life that had
laid out for her before she'd even come to be. She knew she had very little power over that plan. And she was allright with it. And Andrew really wasn't planned. She'd switched perscriptions and got caught. But if God wanted her to have more children she knew she'd do it without question. They were comfortable and money wasn't tight. And they were surprisingly still in love after twelve years. "It takes too long to get back in shape...even with the exercises I do."
"You're in fine shape."
"I am now, but I'm not getting any younger," she reminded him, fully expecting him to gently rib her about her being over thirty.
"Well, then I'll help you exercise."
She arched her eyedbrow and gave him a sharp look. "It's your type of exercise that gets gets me into this condition, Paul, sweetheart."
"But you love being a mother. You love children and you love babies." He paused for effect. "And you don't like finality."
"You're probably right. But don't hold me to it. You and that damned magic touch of yours!"
"Well, I guess I could stop touching," he said, rubbing his chin.
"Don't even think about that!" She was pausing for her own effect. "And you know I can get what I want from you regardless."


Paul often thought back to June 24th, 1994 and the woman-child who had so shamelessly dropped her jeans in front of him. He'd treated her bacly at times and at times he'd felt the sting of what he had long ago learned was a Cajun temper. But she never went to bed angry. She never held a grudge. She was a woman of faith but she didn't preach. Her family came first, her friends second. She was the gentlest woman he knew and the most sincere. If she believed in something, she believed in it with a passion that couldn't be matched. Two perfect examples of that passion was the presidency of George W. Bush and their daughter's fascination and idol worship of Britney Spears. Couldn't be two more polarized subjects, right? Not for her! Karen had seen war first hand, although no one would ever believe it, and she was dead set against it. Although she was all too happy to support our troops in Iraq she didn't support the war. She had a yellow ribbon on her Cherokee. Her class wrote letters for the boys in Baghdad. She even helped
to organize a drive to send much need items to Iraq. When the proverbial shit hit the fan over Natalie Main's comments about "W' and people were bulldozing the Dixie Chicks' CDs, Karen bought the complete Dixie Chick collection to support free speech. As for Britney and Heather, that was a much more localized battlefront. But it was a battlefront nevertheless! Paul remembered all too well the tight jeans of his wife's younger days. Heather was not allowed out of the house in that kind of attire. Yes, it put his daughter at stubborn odds with her mother. When he reminded his wife of how many times she'd poured herself into her jeans for him and had peeled herself out of them, she never failed to put him in his place. If he wanted his daughter playing Mommy's role on Little Round Top or Devil's Den with some guy in a muscle car, she would be more than happy to step aside. He remembered how angry he'd been to learn that his ten year old daughter had gotten her first kiss on the last day of school, 2005! His wife's response? "I thought so!"
He learned quickly to bite his tongue with little lasting damage. If pressed to put a song to their relationship, he didn't hesitate. "The Woman In My Life" by the country singer Phil Vassar. She was his stability in a world that wasn't always normal or sane. She was the mother of his children, his lover,
his friend, his wife and his soul mate. What man could've ever asked for anything more?



THE END

`

The Gettysburg Zone Part 14

Paul didn't want to open the letter from Angus. It was addressed to Karen. But he wanted her to be home when she read it. That wouldn't be for another couple of weeks. Heather was doing fine and would probably be released very close to the same time. For the first couple of days Karen had no sight in her left eye. Paul panicked but Karen didn't. She had her mother bring her her glasses. Another thing he didn't know about her; she wore glasses. Gradually her eye strengthened itself and her sight returned. It was a little weaker than before but it didn't seem to bother her. Over all she was taking everything very well. She didn't ask for her father and Richard Hampton didn't seem to have the guts to come to her right away. When he did finally ask to see her, Paul felt sorry for him. He was a broken man. Paul was having his wife give his appearance a final inspection for a job interview. He was applying for a job at the Lutheran Home as an orderly during the day. At night he worked at the beer distributor. The rent was paid for the next nine months. It took very nearly every dime he'd made in Philly, but he'd made a home for his wife and daughter. And he'd work two jobs to support them until Karen finished college if need be. She wasn't going back to Virginia. She was going locally and she was going to be a teacher.
The door creaked open and Richard Hampton stuck his head in. "Can we talk, Karen?" he asked sheepishly.
Paul felt her hand grip his. When he turned, she pulled him down and gave him a long, lingering, sweet kiss. "That's for luck. Go get a job, ya bum!" she joked. She hoped she'd pulled that off. Soon it was obvious that she had because her husband left. Her father came in but didn't come close. "Sit down...please."
As soon as he sat down the words started tumbling out. "Karen, I'm sorry...."
"I don't want your apologies, Dad. I want my son! Alive and healthy just like his sister. Can your apologies give me that?" Her voice was even and her eyes tearless. He shook his head. He wasn't tearless. She pushed the button to lower her bed a little. Her head was starting to hurt a lot. "I...I've prayed on this for days. My common sense says that I should hate you. My broken heart says that I should walk away with Paul and my daughter and close the door on you and me forever."
He saw a lone tear escape from her blue eyes. "What can I do, baby?"
"Nothing. For years I watched you on the pulpit and I thought you could walk on water. You saved souls. You were a man of God. But someday every child learns that there is no Santa Claus and no Easter Bunny. I see you for what you are now and I'm not impressed."
"What do you see?" Richard Hampton actually feared her answer.
She wiped away that lone tear and pressed the button for a nurse. She didn't often ask for pain medication but the pain was blinding. The nurse put a shot into her I.V.. That would go the next day and then she'd have to endure the shot in the rear. She wasn't looking forward to it. The medicine zeroed in on her pain and it started to fade as she started to float. But she kept focused on what had to be said. "I see a man. A man who pedals God like tacos for a paycheck. You don't walk on water." The medicine made her thirsty right away and she poured a glass of iced water. She took her time drinking it. She wanted her words to sink in. "But you do teach. My teaching...what you taught me... tells me that I have to forgive you or I'm no better than you."
"But?"
"You have no right to judge me. I will not justify anything I've done. You have no say in what I do, what I wear, who I sleep with or how I raise my daughter."
He smiled weakly. "You and Paul will be getting married so who you sleep with isn't a concern...is it?"
"I'm not marrying Paul until I finish college. Then our daughter can be in the wedding party. And we'll be married in the Catholic church because Paul is Catholic. Our daughter and any other children we have will choose what religion is best for them when they're old enough."
Richard felt a little of his old controlling self start to surface and he shoved it back into the farthest recesses of his brain. He was walking a fine line with Karen as it was. "And if you should get pregnant?"
"I don't plan on that but if I do, I do. It's not open for discussion, Dad. I love you. I forgive you. Let's start over." She held out her hand and he gingerly took it. "I want Heather to know her grandparents."
"Can we do that?" he asked softly as he dabbed at his tears.
"That's up to you, but I warn you. My life, my rules. No exceptions."
"Okay, honey. We'll do it your way. I promise."



Paul watched his wife enter their apartment for the first time. She wore a Penn State baseball cap to hide the blond fuzz. As he'd predicted, she wasn't happy about being shorn of her long blond locks. But it was growing back fast. Not fast enough. She thought she looked like Sluggo from the comic strip "Nancy". He still found her incredibly sexy and desireable. She walked with the help of a walking cast and a cane. Tradition said that he should've been carrying her over the threshold but she wasn't much for traditon. So he carried the baby's things while his mother-in-law carried Heather. He'd cleaned the cradle and replaced the old hand sewn feather mattress with a hypoallergenic substitute. Karen took one look at it and had to sit down. Marjorie sat down on the couch with Heather while Paul handed her daughter a very old letter. Paul's hands lovingly massaged her shoulders as her shaking hands broke the wax seal for the first time. When the envelope came to rest on the floor, Marjorie could clearly see her daughter's name scrawled on it along with the date: 1863. Paul read over his wife's shoulder. Karen looked at her mother and decided to read aloud.


"Dear Karen,
'Tis Christmas and the gift I made ye goes ungiven.
Lass, this old man can't understand why ye and your friends
would just leave without a word like a thief in the night.
I know ye not be a mean spirited lass. But none of ye belong-
ed here from the start. For one short moment in time ye were
my daughter. An old man's heart that had had become accustomed
to the cold grew warm. And it wasn't the scotch. I felt some-
thing for the first time in years. Ye were the damnedest, headstrongest lass I ever saw. But at least ye didn't go to
the altar with that scalawag, Paul Jefferson, with a bundle under
the skirts. I feel that ye are well and happy, even
though I miss ye more each day! I hope that Paul is good to ye,
but I hope ye will be a little more careful about when and where
ye call for the Lord! May God look after all of ye and may the
babe ye carry be healthy be it a son or a daughter. I love ye,
lass, and I will til the day I die.
Sincerely,
Angus MacTavish
December 21st, 18 and 63"


Karen saw her mother's eyes widen. Paul stayed firmly behind her massaging her shoulders. She handed the letter to her mother. It was on very, very old parchment leaving no doubt to it's authenticity. "Paul tried to tell you, Mom," she said simply.
"B-B-But that's impossible!"
Paul kissed Karen's cheek. "Einstein didn't think so. It was Einstein, wasn't it, babe?"
"Uh-huh. Paul and I were married by a preacher at a house on the Taneytown Road on June thirtieth, 1863. Heather was conceived shortly thereafter...if not that night." She felt her stomach tense as the most unpleasant of those memories. "Your great, great uncle...John Issac Franklin..almost succeeded in raping me in the barn. George killed him with a pitchfork."
"The black guy?"
"Yeah. He was, for all intents and purposes, my property. My own ancestor attacked me and rendered me unconscious for awhile I got doctored by Jennie Wade. I watched Abraham Lincoln give his Gettysburg address...from a discreet distance...because in those days pregnant women were confined after they started to show."
Marjorie handed Heather to Paul. He really was her son-in-law! "This sounds nuts!"
Paul laughed and cradled his daughter. "You don't think we know how crazy we sound?"
Marjorie remembered the barn with the mournful hinge in the pasture by Wright Avenue. "The barn is..."
Karen nodded. "That barn."
"I was there. I put my hand in the bloodstain where everyone assumed you died. I could feel you, but..."
Karen put her arms around her mother's shoulders and stroked her hair. "I was there, Mom. Just one hundred thirty plus years in the past. Angus took good care of us. And Lincoln really did like the song 'Dixie'."
"I thought you were a ghost. I made myself believe that I could hear your laughter. Was that possible?"
Karen shivered. "Mom, up until June, 1994, I didn't believe in time travel. But I nursed the wounded from the second day of the Battle of Gettysburg! Maybe you did hear me." Heather snuggled down comfortably in the cradle. "One minute we were running for the Charger down Wright Avenue in the rain and then lightning struck. Karen hit her head. That lightning sent us back. At Christmas we were all walking beyond Angus's barn when that moron, Chris, threw a rock and it hit an unexploded cannonball or grapeshot cannister...we think...and it sent us forward." He went to the kitchen and brought out a bottle of champagne and three glasses. Heather never stirred when the cork popped. He handed around the filled glasses. "To my wife and daughter.I've loved you both through two centuries and I'm looking forward to the next."
Marjorie read and re-read the letter and shook her head. "I just can't grasp this. What did he mean about you crying for the Lord?"
Paul choked on his champagne. Karen had to swallow quickly to keep from following suit. Her blue eyes were wide. "Don't ask, Mother! Please...just don't ask!"



Before Karen started her studies, she took Paul to Richmond and Leesburg, Virginia. Her grandparents in Leesburg were more than happy to take care of their great granddaughter while they visited the sites in and around Richmond. He learned a lot about her heritage by visiting the Confederate White House and the historic sites surrounding it. She took him to King's Dominion and showed him a "Rebel Yell" when they got on the roller coaster by the same name. Then she showed him her own private version at a Best Western that night because it was too far to drive back. Then she took them to Metarie to meet the maternal grandparents. He got a true taste of the bayou that she craved so much back in 1863. She was so free and so at home.
And her grandparents on both sides worshiped her and Heather. They welcomed him with open arms. It seemed like they respected her choices in just about anything she did. But when she took him to New Orleans he started getting the ooog factor. It was creepy. They kept their dead in cement tombs above ground. There was a lot of history but there were also voodoo shops and mystical places that Karen instinctively avoided like the plague! She could hold her faith better than the Rebels had held Atlanta! There was never a question about even getting a souvenier from one of those places, though many did. It was against God and her beliefs and she didn't bend them. But when she deliberately went to the family plot, he hought she'd lost her mind!
She'd bought flowers and placed them on her great, great, great uncle's grave. He was amazed. She was on her knees in prayer so he didn't disturb her. When she rose to her feet he put his arm around her waist. "You are honoring the man who tried to rape you? Karen, I know he's your ancestor, but I pissed on his body before I buried him! How can you..."
"You did what?" she asked, turning those blue eyes on him.
"I-I didn't know then that he was your relative."
She broke out in peals of laughter that echoed through the graveyard. "That explains it!"
"Explains what?" He was totally lost but a wind whipped through the graveyard that chilled him through and through. And it wasn't even cold! It was July!
She pulled him to her and kissed him with everything she had. "You asked me about the white light."
His jaw dropped. "You said...nobody...honey..."
She held him close. "He was there. I saw him before the war had ravaged him...when he joined up...like the picture in my grandparents living room. I was terrified."
"So he scared you back?"
She put her head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat for a short while. "He told me that you were the love of my life and vice versa. He said that I should go back to you and our daughter. It wasn't my time. I had so much more to do. Maybe he meant teaching. Maybe he meant that God wasn't done with me...or you. Yeah, it's spooky, but it helped me to come back. Paul, even he saw that we we meant to be together."
"Did he...say anything about what happened? What almost happened?"
"He was sorry. And then he sent me back."
"And if he hadn't been there?"
" I had to come back, honey. Your Paula Abdul was terrible...straight up! Somebody had to teach you how to sing. And you're getting so much better."
"So there is a white light and all that?"
She shook her head. "It's not so much a white light as it is a kind of a platform between planes. It's the last stop before the point of no return. Step beyond it and no amount of medical science can pull you back. I believe that. "
He held her a little tighter as he remembered how close she'd come to going past that platform. "Now you know that there's something beyond this here and now."
"Honey, I always have known that. It's you that needs the work," She paid her last respects and took Paul to Bourbon Street and the French Quarter. He learned to eat alligator, crawfish, po'boys, jambalaya and...with all respects to Maryland, Virginia and the Chesapeake Bay...Louisiana had Cajuns and Creoles which made for a totally different world of seafood preparation. Even the coffee was different!


Karen had skated through prep school with a "B" average. She could've done better. She knew that. But her father would've found something else to be dissatisfied with. It was a stupid teenage rebellion that would only haunt her later years. And, as she studied for her teaching degree, she wished her long legs...the ones Paul was so enamored of...could reach her own rear to kick herself. Paul had cut his hours at the beer distributors to Friday night and from open to close on Saturdays. That made finances a bit tight, but they managed. And Paul spent a lot of quality time with his family. Marjorie Hampton kept Heather during the day while Karen attended classes and Paul worked. Everything was working out just fine. As Karen cracked the books on the living room couch, she couldn't help but see and hear the love and joy that flowed between father and daughter like static electricity. She would run at her father screaming like a banshee as soon as he came home from work. He read to her, played hide and seek with her and spoiled her in general. That's not to say that Heather didn't adore her mother, too. Karen knew she did. But Paul made a game of Karen's study time. How quiet could they be? What could they do to give Mommy her much needed study time without having to interrupt to ask where something was? Snack time became a scavenger hunt and so forth. The Jeffersons would always grieve for the son they lost. But Karen's faith once again helped them through it so they could concentrate on the child they were blessed to still have. And neither Paul or Karen wanted Heather to suffer the childhood they both had survived. "Why does Mommy read the same books?" Heather asked one evening. She was four and busy coloring with her daddy.
"Mommy's studying," Paul replied, putting his finger to his lips and lowering his voice. "She's already smart but sometimes her head leaks. And she has to read it again."
Heather gave him a disbelieving stare. "Heads don't leak, daddy."
Karen giggled behind her book. Their daughter never accepted anything as absolute fact...no matter who provided the facts. Paul was undaunted. "She has ears doesn't she?" he asked seriously. Heather nodded. " Well, ears have holes to let the sound in. But sometimes what goes in through the eyes doesn't stick...and it rolls right back out through the ears. But if she passes this test, she can put the books away for good. She'll be a teacher. She'll be teaching little kids just like she teaches you."
Heather broke out into giggles. "With a leaky head?!?"
Karen was finished studying anyway. She was certain that she'd cinch finals. Anything beyond that very moment was overkill. She slammed the book with a thunderclap quality tone. She glared at Paul in a good natured sort of way. "A leaky head, huh?" Paul was laying on his stomach. She slowly got off the couch and pounced on his back. "Okay, Heather. I'll hold him...you tickle him!"
Before long the three of them were in a tangled heap, breathless but still giggling. Paul held his daughter close and stroked her dark hair as he kissed his wife. Heather would be sound asleep in thirty minutes or so. Even though Paul knew about Karen's finals the next day, he knew he would close their bedroom door and make love to her at least once that night. Maybe twice. It was hard for him to believe that he could've ever turned her away a century ago because she didn't have her pills and he didn't want to wear a condom! He'd wear three of them now if she asked him to, but she was thankfully on the pill. It kept her relaxed enough to enjoy their time alone because she didn't worry about an unplanned pregnancy. She was open to experimentation, except to what she would only refer to as "that" and anything remotely associated with Sodom and Gomorrah. They had it all planned out. She would get her degree and go to work at an elementary school in Gettysburg. He would work part time and go to long haul trucking school. So there could be no unplanned pregnancies. She was meticulous in planning what she wanted for her family, she knew how to go about getting it. He could not only live by her rules, he'd enjoy worshipping his queen who set them in invisible stone.




Karen's graduation made Richard Hampton happier than he'd been in a long time. He was proud of her and her accomplishments. He'd learned how to let her know, too. But she'd given him little choice in that respect. Somewhere between June, 1994 and June, 1999, Karen had grown up and gained a backbone of solid steel. So it didn't matter where she was in her class percentage-wise. He didn't care about her major or minor. He didn't even care if she had a job, although it took no time for her to get employed for the fall as a third grade teacher at Eisenhower Elemmentary School. Yes, his daughter was a success but she always had been. No, what made him so hysterically happy was that she had no more excuses. She was free to marry the man she so obviously loved, who worshiped the ground she walked on, the man to whom she'd given a beautiful daughter and with whom she'd been living with openly for better than four years. If he counted the six months prior to Heather's birth...and he did!
Marjorie didn't seem the least bit bothered by the fact that their daughter was so obviously having sex outside of marriage. He'd seen the way she kissed Paul, the way his hands went to her breasts when he thought no one was looking. Didin't they ever do anything else? How was she able to graduate with motherhood and such a randy young stud like Paul Jefferson? He remembered one afternoon when she had picked Heather up from the annual church barbecue wearing a T-shirt that said "Freaknik University" He'd been dumb enough to ask her about the meaning. She carefully secured Heather in her carseat, stroked his cheek and flashed him a smile. Then she calmly replied with the words that he would never forget. "It
means I'm a graduate with a PhD in feel good. I'm damned good in bed, Daddy." He was absolutely mortified and was very careful about asking her anything from that moment on. On afterthought it came to him that that was her intended effect. She had told him in the hospital that he had no say in the workings of her life anymore. But he even thought her answer stunned Paul who was behind the wheel. He shifted in his seat but didn't take his eyes of Karen. But Marjorie brushed it off by saying that they were already married in the eyes of God and man. She just didn't have any proof and didn't seem interested in finding it. She repeatedly told him that he should chalk it up to mother's instuition.
When Paul looked up from the altar to see her walking toward him on her father's arm, time just seemed to stop and reverse itself all over again. Her parents wanted a formal wedding. She resisted at first but Paul knew just how much she'd missed her father giving her away the first time. Finally he convinced her to go through with it because Heather would look so damned cute in a formal dress. The men didn't have to wear traditional tuxes and there were no ridiculous taffeta bridesmaid dresses. Paul was certain that Traci and Robin were thankful to have such a rational friend in Karen. Of course, she wouldn't wear white, despite her father's request. Heather had not been an immaculate conception, she'd been quick
to point out. Naturally, that closed the discussion. She wore an ivory gown instead and he couldn't take his eyes off of her. He made up his mind that they would renew their vows a third time on their twentieth anniversary...whether she wanted to or not. One wedding for each century. She would probably object. But he knew how to win her to his side and that was half the fun. Smiling at that thought he took her hand from her father. On June 30th, 1999, she consented to be his wife yet again. This time their daughter was a somewhat bored witness to the whole thing. Paul hoisted Heather onto his shoulders as they walked back down the aisle toward the door.
Karen had purposefully stayed out of most of the wedding planning. She thought it was all overkill. She'd married Paul once and that was enough. But she knew that her father needed the proof and she could at least give him that. So she said yess at the right times and nodded her luke-warm approval when necessary. The only thing she balked at was a band at the reception. She hated live music with wannabe rockstars. She insisted on a D.J.. Paul picked the song that they would dance to first. would be "Just A Little Love" by Reba McIntire. He was adamant because he knew that Reba was one of her favorite singers. He didn't know that she also liked Gloria Estefan. She discreetly slipped a song onto the list that she knew he was unfamiliar with. Everybody knew "The Rhythm Is Gonna Get You". But Karen liked the words to "1-2-3" . She would've counted forever to win Paul Jef-ferson's heart. She was long on patience if it got her what she truly wanted. And she had wanted him from their first meeting. If she had known the song "Anything For You" back when he'd almost let her go, that would've fit, too. But that wasn't on her mental play list back then. She hoped that he could always look into her eyes and know that she loved him beyond reason, beyond her self-discipline and that she always would. She didn't want the word obey in their vows because she didn't believe that one person should obey another. It had to be a give and take or it wasn't worth the effort.
Paul was surprised to see his mother sitting in the back of the church. He wasn't surprised that his father and sister weren't there. As they stood at outside the church briefly before getting into the car for the reception Paul felt Karen's elbow nudge his ribs. He looked at her and was pretty sure that he knew what she was going to say by the look in her blue eyes. "Karen, I don't..." he began in protest.
"She's your mother and Heather's grandmother. She made the effort to be here for you. You be there for her. Invite her to the reception."
"I don't want you to be hurt."
Karen laughed and took Heather from him. "I don't insult easily. She's your mother. But I'm your wife and you have to live with me. Just who are you more afraid of right about now?" Paul kissed his bride's cheek and started off toward his mother. Karen knew that she would never hold back from him in any way as punishment, but it was fun to let him think so on the right occassion. And she knew in her heart that getting him back with his mother was the right thing to do. His father? Well, that wasn't going to happen. Realistically speaking, she might never again see her mother-in-law, but at least the effort was made.
As Paul held his wife in his arms for that first dance with their daughter on the sidelines cheering them on, he didn't think life could get any better. But it would. Within a year Paul was graduating from trucking school. He got a job right away with a firm in Harrisburg, the state capital. He would never be on the road for more than a week at a time and the money was good. Karen didn't like the idea at first. She was worried for his safety and it showed. But soon she went back to her roots and her Bible and found the faith to do what she'd always believed. Let go and let God. And soon it was obvious that she would have far more to occupy her mind. In addition to her teaching duties, she discovered in October, 2000 that she was pregnant. No twins thankfully. But on May 3rd, 2001, Paul and Karen Jefferson got their son. Paul David Jefferson, Jr. was delivered by C-section. He was promptly nicknamed Davey by his big sister. Karen feared that Heather might take a bit of sadistic glee in being the older sister, but she had nothing to worry about. Heather loved her little brother and enjoyed helping to feed and bathe him. It seemed as though the perfect life with the devastating beginning was finally nearing completion.




Paul begged and pleaded halfway through September of 2002 for his wife's permission to buy a Harley. His birthday was twenty eighth. She didn't like or trust motorcycles. They had two children that didn't need to be orphaned. And she was an elementary school teacher, for heaven's sake! Weren't those enough reasons? He was willing to make promises to her that he would never make to any woman...and keep them! They wouldn't ride in the rain and he's never have more than two beers and no liquor! When he said they wouldn't ride in the rain, she slammed a frying pan down on the kitchen counter. He knew it was time to manage her anger or he'd never get the bike. And, it didn't hurt to stroke the female ego from time to time, did it? Well...no, as long as your buddies didn't find out about it. Maybe if he told her she'd .look hot in boots and on the back of a bike? Nah! She never realized that she entered a room in slow motion! Just like Bo Derek in "10". But she didn't do it intentionally. It didn't matter what she wore...the jeans
that were slung low around her hips when she was home or the teacher duds she greeted her students with. Heads turned when she entered a room. Paul knew that from the day he first met her on the Post Office steps. But it was never more evident than when she came down the stairs of Angus's house in that blue gingham dress!
"Honey, I would never put you at risk! You know that. I just want a chance at a dream that I've had since I was a teenager!" he said finally. She glared at him. Wrong words. He knew it immediately. "Now, baby, you are my dream. You know that. But you don't have chrome exhaust and that Harley rumble."
Her one eyebrow went up just as the other went down. "Maybe not. But I function on all eight cylinders and I've been giving you a rumble or a long time. Now it's not enough?" She was making beef stir fry and she saw him jump when the cleaver cut the beef with a crack. She knew that he had earned that bike by graduating first in his long haul trucking class and getting on with a fairly decent paying comapany. With her salary and his, they could afford the house payments and drive two different, fairly new vehicles. And he didn't want a new Harley. But there was a logical order between men and women and the whole house of cards would fall if it wasn't followed. She put the cleaver down and washed her hands. Leaning against the butcher block island, she took one of her legs that she knew intrigued him so much, ran it up the back of his two and pulled him to her. His chest was pressed against her and she let herself be breathless. Heather was in front of the TV. "You can have your bike, Paul. But if you ever call me bitch or refer to me as your "hot mama'... the only rumble you'll get is from the engine. Got that?"
"But you are such a hot mama," he said in his little boy voice.
Her eyes flashed. "We've been over this. I'm not your mama. And thanks to your father the word bitch isn't something to even joke about. And I know about what you told Mike Nichols way back in 1863. About my legs? It's like having your own personal stripper. I took it as a compliment. Be glad." He tapped the CD player and slid in George Michael's "Faith". It was preprogrammed to "Father Figure". He sang along, completely in key and pressed against her. That song could get him damned near anything if he worked it just right. He didn't dare use the popular term 'who's your daddy' because she'd freeze him like liquid nitrogen! Anything by George Michael could melt those steel reserves. He reached over her to switch the track from "I Want Your Sex" because she wouldn't allow him to play it in close proximity to their children. She put her hand over his and then just turned it down a little. "Let it play," she said with great difficulty. He had her pinned to the kitchen island and she wasn't ready to give that up just yet. She also wasn't quite ready to finish supper either.
He saw an opening. "So...if you took the stripper comment as a compliment...can I..."
She groaned. "Oh God! Now what?"
"Can we get a pole?"
She laughed and ran her fingers over his lips. "I have a pole, thank you." She'd made him blush and it was fun. "But they say stripper aerobics are great for that whole cardio thing. Maybe...next year. Can you wait?"
He saluted her from a very close proximity. "Yes, ma'am!"
"And the answer is yes. I did take two years of dance starting in my freshman year."
"I thought ....what in the hell?" With his chest pressed so tightly against hers and
knowing that she never wore a bra at home, he was stunned. She dropped her head and he could tell she was trying not to laugh. He grabbed her chin and she met his eyes. "What the hell is that?"
"Submit...remember?" she asked. He'd always teased her about that Biblical verse that said a woman should submit to her husband. Damn! He was just so close!
He kept his voice low so Heather wouldn't make the trip to the kitchen. "Submit? You? When you damned well want to!" He slipped his hand inside her shirt and touched her nipples...one and then the other...and his eyes twinkled. The delicate wirelike contraption in each nipple could literally take her breath away! He peeked to see two gold hoops, one in each nipple and he grinned. He wanted her to pierce something for his birthday and she'd done it! He felt his knees go weak! "You fuckin' pierced 'em!"
"Keep your voice down." She felt his thumb through the thin shirt and she couldn't control herself no matter how hard she tried. Her breath was ragged and she felt like she'd almost peaked right then and there! "Oh...Paul...don't. Not now! I...I can't control it! Stop!"
"Still tender?"
She nodded. "You said something...I couldn't see doing my tongue. I...oh, damn! I teach and I don't do...that so..."
He wiggled his eyebrows. 'What about down below?" He tweaked her and practically had to catch her.
She licked her lips. "Y-You see what this does to me. Everytime that hardware...oh, God! brushed against my jeans...I-I'd be a walking...Please stop!"
He played it so-o-o cool. "A walking what?" Another thumbing. "Say it."
"Sadist! I'd be a walking....oh....oh... a walking orgasm! I had that when I got the damned things done...twice! It's embarrassing! Oh, damn! Don't do that to me... please, Paul!"
"Finally! A word from you I can understand!" He looked down into her eyes and saw domething that made him uncomfortable. "Does it hurt?" He backed away from her and stopped torturing her. She really had to lean against the island for support. Damn! She was super sensitive. That could be interesting, he thought to himself.
"No. Yes. It's hard to explain." She took a deep breath. They had to stay in for at least another twelve days before she could change them or remove them. "It's like an electrical charge going through me and it makes me weak and wanting. I don't understand it. I just know that I can't control it."
"Okay. But tonight? After the kids are asleep...you are in so much trouble!"
"No, I'm in trouble now." She sucked in her breath, pulled him back and leaned into him. "Let me put this stuff up for about an hour."
He was intrigued and it showed. "And if I say no?"
"You can't do that now. These damned things do things I can't turn off. I have to put tape on them when I go to school. My bra rubs and...I have to do something you know I didn't do! So I tape them with gauze." She slowly slid her finger up the center seam of her jeans. His birthday present was going to torment her, but she was going to torment him in return. Yes, she'd learned the art of self manipilation and she was going to show him. Let him watch, so to speak. That PhD in feel good was going to come in handy for a short while. She hated the fact that her body was betraying her! "I'm hot and it hurts! So...oh..if you tell me no now, I'm takin' 'em out!"
He weighed his choices. She never broke her schedule before. She was standing in front of him with a need he hadn't even seen at Little Round Top! And it was definitely a stimulating site. He carried her upstairs and had the best sex he'd ever had. He was completely in shock to see her hand do what she'd always thought was a sin! And then she'd put his hands on those hoops and it started all over again! She still had some reserve but those soft moans blew his mind and he was as out of control as she was. When he came to rest beside her, he was very careful not to touch the hoops! They were dangerous but so wildly exciting. He couldn't keep her in a constant state of sexual arousal, as most married men envisioned. Oh, yeah. She could handle it just fine. She would never do anything improper in front of Davy or Heather. But he could see the tense line of her jaw and the shakey hands. If he had the discretion to slip his hand into her jeans, he could feel the desire. No, it wasn't just out of consideration for her, that he didn't mess with the gold. It was for him, too. He didn't think he could rise to the occasion everytime she wiggled that gorgeous forefinger!

The Gettysburg Zone Part 13

Paul looked like hell as he sat outside the examining room. His features were haggard and his chest seemed all caved in like someone had knocked the wind out of him. His clothes were wrinkled and dishevelled. Marjorie came back from the vending machine with two coffees, handing one to him. Richard had wisely opted to stay at home and pray. Paul took the coffee and sat up staighter to drink it. It was well past three in the morning.. The doctors were setting the broken leg and she'd be transfered to I.C.U. She had a couple of broken ribs and a lascerated kidney. As he suspected, she'd suffered multiple skull fractures and she hadn't woken up. She's been put on a respirator immediately, but no one could rule out the possiblility that she might never wake up. And, if she did there might be brain damage. So far the babies were fine, but that, too, was subject to change. Babies! She hadn't even had the chance to tell him she was carrying twins! They were startled out of their individual deep thoughts by a white coated doctor holding a silver clip board.
Paul got a case of the cold sweats. "She's..."
"Alive? Yes. The respirator is breathing for her for now. When her condition stabilizes a bit more, we'll take her off it and see if she can breathe on her own." The doctor didn't look real hopeful. "I think you need to come to grips with the facts. She might never breathe on her own."
"No!" Marjorie yelled and Paul put his hand on her shoulder. "You've got to do something!"
"We've done all we can do for now, Mrs. Hampton. All we can do is wait."
"Does she feel pain?" Paul asked.
"There's still a lot we don't know about the workings of the brain, Mr. Jefferson. But all research tells us that the senses still function on a subconscious level. Karen probably feels pain but can't respond to it. We do know that she can hear. So never say anything negative. If she thinks she's dying, it's quite possible that she will." He gave them a tired smile. "If you want to help her, talk to her about happy things. Stimulate special memories but...most of all, give her a reason to come back. A good place to start is the babies. They need their mother to come back."
Richard Hampton froze at the door to Karen's room. She was dwarfed by the machines, tubes and wires all around her. The steady hiss of the respiratior was intimidating. Marjorie shoved him in a little farther, reminding him that he'd done that to the only only touch of perfection in their lives and he had to help make it right. A nurse looked up from the chart in her hands and smiled at him. Not many people smiled at him anymore. She gently lifted his daughter's limp hand and took her pulse. She replaced it just as gently and pulled a chair up to the side of the bed. He sat in it and stroked Karen's arm. There was another machine in the crowded room monitoring the vital signs of the twins she carried. No one even knew about that until...until she was brought to the hospital. He felt tears spill down his cheek and he was angry with himself. What right did he have to cry for her? He was the reason she was there! Did she hate him enough to run away from him back in June? The doctor's said that her senses were probably functioning on a subconscious level. Did she hate him now? Was hate even a sense? No. Hate was an emotion. And she didn't have emotions anymore. He carefully took her hand between his. A simple gold band shimmered in the muted hospital light. What in the world could he ever say to make her want to come back to this world...especially is he was a part of it?
"Karen, I'm so...so sorry. You can do this! There's nothing you can't accomplish!" He put her delicate hand to his lips. He saw her brow furrow and he carefully replaced her hand on the bed beside her. His own daughter didn't want him and she was in a coma! He ran from that room in tears!
Marjorie watched her husband run from the room like his britches were on fire. She'd been watching through the plate glass and she knew that Karen hadn't woken up and cussed her father out. Secretly she wished that it had happened just that way. But when she sat down in the chair that Richard had vacated, her heart fell. There's been no change in three days. The thought of a tube stuck into her daughter's air passages...even though it was keeping her alive...was heartwrenching. What was the point in keeping her alive? Then she remembered the babies and she absently rubbed her hand over Karen's stomach. But what about after they were delivered? How would they ever let her go? She thought about her mother's nursing books and remembered visits to nursing homes where young and old alike had existed in vegetative states. It wasn't living. When the plug was pulled they slipped quietly into the arms of God, right? Suddenly Marjorie Hampton felt anger. God couldn't have her yet! She wanted her daughter to live and raise her children! Raise them a damned sight better than Richard had allowed her to raise Karen!
Paul brought the biggest bouquet he could find and put it on the stand by her bed. Maybe she could smell them, even if she couldn't see them. They told him that there was swelling of the brain and no one seemed hopeful. They were keeping her alive so that the babies had a better chance of survival. He felt the lump threatening to close off his own windpipe. He had put those babies inside of her! Now he had to make the choice no husband ever wanted to do. He had to choose between his wife, lover and soulmate and his children! He'd thought about that for a long time. There would be other children. But would she ever forgive him for choosing her over their children? He couldn't let her go! He had too much to say to her. He hadn't even told her he loved her yet! Her head was bandaged to keep the bits of skull immobile. Her beautiful long blond hair had been carefully shaved off. Did you think this came from a bottle, she asked him as she stood in front of him offering him the two things she had to give that were irreplaceable: her virginity and her heart.
Two weeks had gone by since Karen's fall. Paul had called the group to meet in her hospital room. All seven were reunited again, but one didn't even know they were there. They had come to say their goodbyes to the one member of their group who had paid enough attention in American History to get them all through something that none could even tell their grandchildren about! No, Karen wouldn't be even allowed to pass away quietly. If she couldn't survive without the respirator she would be whisked away to surgery and the babies delivered. Paul and her parents just wanted to know what they had to look forward to. It wasn't that they wanted to rush the process. They just needed to know if she had a chance of coming back. Mike held Robin tightly. She had already told him that she didn't want to actually watch them pull the plug. She just wanted to bury her head in his shoulder and stay until it was over because she owed her friend that much. George had made a copy of the "ownership" papers Angus has forged for her and pressed the copy into her hand. Traci had brought an ankh symbol and laid it on the pillow next to Karen's head. If there was such a thing as an afterlife and reincarnation, she knew Karen would make certain that they met again...even if it was only to preach at her! Chris was the last to step up to the bed. He didn't have anything for her except his words that she was too big of a pain in the ass to let go now. Marjorie squeezed Paul's hand as they removed the respirator. Some prayed. Some meditated. All cried. But none expected Karen to survive. She did.
February was the shortest month in the year. Why did it seem to drag out so long? Without Marjorie Hampton to lean on Paul was certain that he would've lost it the night of the accident. He couldn't prove that he was married to Karen so he had no rights! He wanted to go down to the courthouse and pull the 1863 records and slam them down on the doctor's desk. But he seriously doubted that anyone would validate that and he couldn't help her if he was in a straight jacket. Karen's mother was a nice woman. If he didn't tell someone who didn't already know, he'd surely lose his mind. Maybe she could help him. The nurses showed him how to move Karen's arms and legs to keep her muscles from hardening or tiurning to mush or whatever muscles did. Sometimes Mrs. Hampton helped him. He had to get her helpwith some far more important!
"Mrs. Hampton?" Paul was rubbing Karen's feet just for something to do. "If I told you where we were and that we were married...but I couldn't prove it...what would you do?"
She kissed her daughter's forehead and sat down in the chair by the bed. "Try me."
"We were married on June thirtieth...1863."
"Karen said y'all weren't on drugs. You said 1863, Paul."
He took a deep breath and looked into Marjorie's eyes. "Karen nursed the casualties. I helped bury the dead. We saw Abraham Lincoln give his Gettysburg Address. Ask any one of us and you'll get the same story." he assured her. But he saw the look in her eyes. She thought he was nuts. Then he remembered the ownership papers! It was only a copy but it was a start! He opened the nightstand but it wasn't there. Tears overflowed his eyes. "Mrs. Hampton, I can't prove any of this. I might never be able to. But the God she believes in knows it's true!"
"What can I do, Paul?"
"Sign a notarized statement declaring me her husband. I want my kids legitimate!"



February 26th dawned cold and blustery. Paul sat straight up in his bed in the small apartment he rented on Buford Avenue. He was shivering from the cold sweat that trickled over his bare skin. He forced himself out of bed and was brushing his teeth when the phone rang. He picked it up and hesitantly put it to his ear. He heard Marjorie hampton's shakey voice and his heart sank. "What's wrong?" He sat down on the bed.
"She's leaving us, Paul."
"What?!?" Already he was tugging on his pants. "She was fine..."
"They want to do an emergency C-section. It's your call." She heard the phone line go dead and she knew that he was on his way to meet her at the hospital.
They entered the room at the same time. The respirator was back. Karen's blood pressure had started dropping in the middle of the night. She wasn't responding to any of the medicine deemed safe for the unborn babies. They were two months shy of full term but they seemed strong. No one would know forsure until they were delivered, but Karen was dying. If they okayed the C-section, Karen could still die but her chances did improve a little. Marjorie prayed. Paul carefully crawled into the tiny bed with her and cradled her damaged head against his chest. He told her that he didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to do without her. He would love the twins because they were a part of both of them, the consummation of a love he wasn't ready for and was just as unready to let go of. He watched Marjorie extract a homemade cassette from her purse. She swiped tears with the back of her hand as she placed it in the recorder on the nightstand. Paul hadn't even noticed it. She must've stayed up all night going over songs that she thought fit Karen and some that might help her come back. She moved the chair to the opposite side of the bed and gripped her daughter's hand. The first song was "Wild One" by Faith Hill. Paul looked down at he serene features of his wife and lover. She definitely had an angels' face. "The Way That You Love Me" by Paula Abdul. That fit, too, because she wasn't a material type of person. Then came "Father Figure" by George Michael followed by "I Want Your Sex".
"Mrs. Hampton I didn't want this to happen!" he exclaimed as that song started.
"It did. And call me Margie." Her voice held no judgement.
"I didn't want to pop...uh...I didn't want to be her first!"
His revelation made her smile. Chip Jackson lost a hell of a lot in that coatroom. Her daughter wasn't a cheerleader. She had more intellectual aspirations. Karen knew how to think and she didn't need to think with anything but her brain. Too bad Chip hadn't learned that. Paula Abdul began "Opposites Attract" and it fit Paul and Karen so well. No, he didn't smoke, but he probably stole the covers. "So...she was a virgin."
Paul blushed through his tears. "Yeah. She wanted me and I..."
She giggled. "You took it."
"She stepped out of her jeans and...and it's still a blur."
She laughed harder. "She stepped out of her jeans? You didn't take them off?" Well, maybe it wasn't her brain she was thinking with that night.
Paul was uncomfortable. "Mrs. Hampton....Margie...I was so mad when I found out that she was ch-...uh...a virgin."
"But you didn't stop?"
"I'd already gone too far and I couldn't give it back." He saw her tears from laughter and he laughed, too. "You're like her. You're enjoying this too much."
"She hears us. She's enjoying it, too." The next three songs were Paula Abdul's: "State Of Attraction", "I Need You" and "Forever Your Girl"."She didn't tell you that she'd never...made love?"
"No! I would've never!"
"Never?"
"Well, since we seem to be playing truth or dare...one sided as it may be...I gave up on having sex with Karen. She pulled away so many times. But part of me didn't want to stop seeing her. She was...she is a lady. She can cuss like a sailor when she's mad but..."
Marjorie interjected. "My Karen can cuss?"
"Only when she's mad...or when she thinks it'll get my attention. Never the Lord's name in vain. Her faith is way too strong."
"But the flesh is weak."
He kissed Karen's cheek. "You raised her fine. She got me into God. But she had needs and...damn! She was in love with me and I was too blind to see it because her love was the purest I've ever seen. Not like my folks. If we had been able to come home that night..." he stopped.
She put her head down for a few seconds. When she looked up, tears glistened even more on her cheeks. "Have I Got A Deal For You" finished and "Just A Little Love" by Reba McEntire started. "Richard would've had a fit. I would've been upset. But she loves you, Paul. You do love her, don't you?"
His tears speeded up as he kissed Karen's cheek. "More than life itself...but I never told her that. Reba's right. She does bring a touch of perfection, doesn't she?"
"Always has, Paul." They listened to the music in silence for awhile. The last two songs were more Paula Abdul. "Next To You" and "Straight Up". She listened as Paul sang the latter to Karen. She heard the stomp of heavy footsteps. Richard Hamptom came through the doors only to stop cold at the sight of Paul Jefferson in his daughter's hospital bed with her. Marjorie ushered him outside before he could say anything.
"What is he doing?!?"
"Karen's dying, Richard. They have to take the babies or they die, too." She wanted to tell him more but doctors and nurses came barreling down the hall straight for Karen's room.
Paul came out, shaking and crying. He accepted Marjorie's arms of support but he glared at her husband. "She flatlined. I've gotta go get scrub up to watch our kids be delivered. Stay...please?"
There was never any doubt that Marjorie would stay, but the fact that Paul wanted her there was a great compliment. She sat in the waiting area with Richard in silence. She didn't have much to say to him these days. Suddenly the thought occured to her that Karen wouldn't want her death to tear her parents apart. Richard looked terrible. She knew that he slept very little. The dark circles relayed that to anyone out of the loop. He hadn't shaved in two or three days. His eyes were red rimmed. She reached over and took his hand. "She doesn't blame you, Richard."
He sniffled. "How do you know? She never regained consciousness."
"I know Karen. She loves you, Richard. She always has. That's why she's always tried so hard to be the best she could be for you. She's in love and she's about to be a mother, but...but deep inside she's still her daddy's little girl."
He swallowed hard but he couldn't keep the tears at bay. "Even when she's about to die? This is such a failure!"
Marjorie let go of his hand, feeling anger at what she thought was going to be another one of his Biblical tirades against Karen. "Don't start, Richard. Not now! Karen didn't fail."
"No...she didn't. I did."
It was cold in the operating room. Something about keeping down germs. The antiseptic smell assaulted his nostrils even through the surgical mask. He couldn't watch them cut into her. Wasn't very good with blood. Saw enough of it at the Battle of Gettysburg. It didn't seem like any time at all until the room was filled with the lusty cries of a newborn. It was a girl. The nurse took her away and did whatever they did to newborns. The room was tense. He looked over the drape. The doctor was working on the second baby, a boy. There was no cry for a long time. He didn't like the look in the doctors eyes. When the cry finally came it was very weak. He felt sick and numb as the doctor explained that his son's lungs weren't developed enough. Of course everything possible was being done, but it didn't look good. Then they hurried him out of the room. They were going to suture her up and then drill into her skull to relieve the pressure and stop the bleeding. That didn't look good either. His whole world was crashing down around his ears and there wasn't a fucking thing he could do about it!
Paul slammed out of the operating room and strode down the hall toward the waiting room where the Hamptons waited for him. Damn! They were sitting there so innocent and he was gonna knock the props right out from under them! Suddenly he was beating the wall over and over again, oblivious to the pain or the blood running down his wrists. Marjorie grabbed his shoulders and he slid to the floor, coming to rest on his knees. Helooked up at Richard. Part of him hated the man for what happened but Paul hated himself for what he was about to say to him. "Go to the nursery. Go now! Baptize my son before he dies. There's not much time."



Richard Hampton had never felt so alone and hurt in his life as when he baptized his grandson and watched him slip away. Karen had been born at seven and a half months but she was a real fighter. His granddaughter didn't have her mother's coloring but she seemed to have her spirit. If Karen died now it would be his fault just like he thought it was his fault that his grandson didn't live. But if she survived, she would go through life with the pain of knowing what he'd done to her and the son she never even got to hold. She couldn't forgive him. He knew that. He couldn't even forgive herself. Marjorie looked at him differently from those days when they were first married. When she went into premature labor with Karen there was no obvious reason for it. But they had prayed and held each other and Karen had been born with nothing worse than a case of jaundice and the anemia that would follow her all of her life. God had listened. Why hadn't he listened to God? Why was it so important to control the only child he would have and, worse, why had he used God to do it? Was that why things were going so badly? No! He was doing it again! This wasn't about him! It was about his little girl and her child and the loss of her child. He needed to go to God on her behalf for once. He didn't wait for the chapel. As soon as he stepped outside of the nursery he hit his knees in prayer. He always knew that no one could bargain with God. Or at least they shouldn't. He knew what most people did. God, give me what I ask for and I'll go to church every Sunday, I'll be a better person, etc., etc.. Somehow the prayer gets answered and they might keep their end of the bargain for awhile, but it usually fizzled. But this was his daughter! He couldn't not bargain with God...with the only thing he had to offer: letting go.
"Dear God, I've been so wrong. I admit it. I ask your forgiveness and hers. I promise that I will try my best to let go and let her grow. I'll give her the right to choose her paths in life. I messed up and I know that my grandson is in your arms, but it's going to hurt my baby girl so much. Help me to win her forgiveness and her trust again. And make me a better father and grandfather. In Jesus' name I pray. Amen" He got up and looked into the nursery at his granddaughter. Could he ever make things right? With his daughter or his wife? He didn't ask God's intervention on the latter because he felt that his wife would eventually come around if their daughter survived. When she survived. He had to believe that his daughter would live.



Paul left the hospital in a daze. He was walking but he had no idea of where he was going. He'd left his jacket in Karen's hospital room. She was in recovery but all of the optimism was frozen in time. It was fifty fifty. Hell! He might as well flip a freakin' coin! If he walked out of the hospital she could be gone when he got back. If he didn't, he would have a breakdown. His son was in the morgue. His wife was in critical condition. His daughter was the only bright spot because she she was fighting like hell and the odds were that she would survive. For that he was grateful. He truly was. But the rest of it was making him question everything Karen had tried so hard to burn into his brain. And it was starting to take root before the accident. Now he didn't know what he believed or if he believed. He needed time away from the sound of respirators and dropping trays and crash carts! He needed some time to gather his thoughts and try to get back wahat she gave him before he lost it all. He needed a sign of some kind and he couldn't focus in the hospital. He wasn't sure that he could pray to a God who could do all of this, but he knew it would offend her in every way possible if he didn't try. No, she showed no sign of knowing anything. She wasn't brain dead...yet..and she might not ever be that severe. But in his heart he knew that she would know if he lost his way over her. And if she did slip away, she would probably haunt him forever. Damn! He'd seen the past. He knew anything was possible. Her haunting him wouldn't be that unpleasant but he wanted her to get to those pearly gates or whatever there was at the end of life. Heaven?
Did he believe in that? Then he remembered yet again that it wasn't what he believed. What mattered was what she believed.
He couldn't make the arrangements for his son's funeral. Marjorie had hugged him tightly and assured him that she would take care of everything. He'd named him Scott for Angus but he didn't have a middle name. Marjorie Hampton was such a treasure. Paul knew that her heart was breaking, too. If Karen didn't make it, he was afraid it would kill his mother-in-law. He looked around to see where he was when something in the window of what he'd always referred to a junk shop caught his eye. It was an old cradle. You could tell that the person who made it had been a craftsman. It was hand carved with beautiful dove tail joints. He remembered that from wood shop back in high school. But it wasn't the scrollwork or the dovetails that made him go into the Antique shop on Chambersburg Street. It was the name lovingly carved into the headboard: JEFFERSON. The lady told him that she didn't know the name of the artisan, but she did know that it had been found in the attic of a house out on the Taneytown Road. part of the house had burned In the mid seventies, the park service bought it and contracted somebody to tear it down. There was a letter that was found with it. The wax seal was still intact. The scrawl on the envelope made shivers run up and down his spine like ants at a picnic. It was a first and last name and Paul remembered the hand-writing far too well. The name was oh so familiar, too. Karen Jefferson! He didn't even question the price of three hundred dollars but the lady that owned the shop knocked fifty bucks off the price when she saw the name Jefferson on the check her gave her. He walked back his car and drove to the shop to pick up the cradle. After placing it and the letter in the living room of his Buford Avenue apartment, he drove back to the hospital tosit with his wife.
Karen had been back in her room for about an hour by the time he got back. The respirator sat quiet in the corner of the room, ready to be put into service at a moment's notice. The fact she wasn't hooked up to it at that minute had to be a good thing, right? It seemed odd to see her not pregnant. They should've gone to chikdbirth classes. He'd heard that women cussed out their husbands in delivery. Fate took that away from her just like it took their son. The bright white bandage around her head made her look deathly pale. She wouldn't be happy about being bald but he knew they'd shaved her head. He sat down in the chair next to the bed and rested his head on the bed. He told her about the cradle and the letter. He told her how beautiful their daughter was. He'd named her Heather Anne, after the Scottish heather of Angus's homeland. No, she didn't have blond hair, but she did have a lot of dark fuzz. Tears started to flow and they wouldn't stop! He didn't mention the loss of their son. The doctors were always stressing how important it was to stay positive when talking to her! There was so much they had to say to each other. So much they had to do! She couldn't leave him! How would he raise their daughter? How would he know what to say when she got her first period? Or worse...what would he say if she was sixteen and missed one? Who was going to stop him from stomping the shit out of the first guy that kept her out five seconds after curfew? He was babbling and he didin't care!
"Why didn't I tell you how much I love you? That you are the one bright spot in my life?" He didn't even realize that he was raising his voice because he was too angry with himself.
A gentle hand stroked the back of his neck. The voice was soft and a little weak. "Maybe because I already knew. Maybe you showed me with everything you did and every effort you made. And because I don't think I could love anyone who didn't love me in return. And I love you."
His head shot up and his eyes locked onto the most beautiful blue eyes he'd ever seen and didn't think he'd ever see again. "Honey! You're back!"
"Never left. You're no Paula Abdul...straight up. But I am forever your girl. You know that, right?"
"I think I knew it from day one, baby! You heard that?"
"Yeah. Oh, yeah! You won't soon forget that, darling."
He wiped tears from his eyes and pressed her hand to his cheek. "You can make fun of me 24/7 as long as you don't leave me again!"
She motioned for some ice, fearing that water might not stay down. The ice wet her parched throat sufficiently. "Our daughter better not miss a period until she's married...or I'll kill him!"
Paul saw the sparkle of blue fire in her eyes and believed that she meant every word. "Easy, babe! You need to stay calm," he joked. "The world is waiting."
She crunched a little more ice. "For what?"
"The white light. You know...you flatlined. Didn't you see anyone telling you to go back?"
She didn't want to think about any of that. There was one thing in the back of her mind but she made herself believe that it wasn't real. "No. Nothing. My grandparents on both sides are living. No relatives to turn me away. No white lights." She shivered because she wasn't a very good liar. "I guess I wasn't as close as everybody thought."
"You sure scared the hell...uh...the heck out of us."
"Did my mom look at you weird when you told her about 1863?" she asked softly.
Paul laughed. "Like they were coming to get me any minute! You heard that, too?"
She nodded. "All of it. Did you have to tell her that I took off my jeans first? That's my mother!"
"I wanted her to know the truth."
"Did she really need to know that I seduced you?" she asked as she raised the head of her bead just a little.
"She needed to know that you were a virgin and that I'm gonna be your last." He could tell by her eyes that she wasn't quite convinced. "What you did wasn't wrong, baby. I was too blind..,"
She put her finger to his lips. "If I wanted you to know, I would've told you straight out. I came out of one bad relationship and I wasn't ready for what I felt for you. I thought we could just be physical and I would go off to college and sort everything out. I didn't get the chance."
"And now?" he asked, truly afraid of her answer.
"You're not gettin' rid of me, Mr. Jefferson. We were married in the eyes of God. But you'd better kiss me right now before I change my mind!"
He felt reborn in that kiss. He would never again go a day without letting her know in some way that he loved her. "Lady, I love you so much!" He saw her brows furrow and he could tell she was in pain. "Karen, what's wrong?"
She put her left hand to her forehead. "That had to have been a hangover!"
"Huh? You lost me."
"At Angus's. My head is killing me now. It didn't hurt near that much at Angus's. What happened to my head this time? I remember...very damned little."
"You have a skull fracture. Actually several. But let's talk about that later. It'll only upset you." He saw a glimmer begin in her eyes. He'd seen fear, anger, laughter and raw sexiness in her eyes. But he'd never seen them grow cold and hard before. It was frightening. She was remembering on her own and it was really pissing her off! "Karen, baby, it was an accident! I was angry at first but I replayed it in my head."
"If he just hadn't put his hands on me..."
"I-I should call a doctor or something!"
She shook her head and grimaced at the pain it caused. "Not yet. Heather is...okay?"
He knew what was coming. "Yeah, but the boy didn't make it. I named him Scott. His lungs didn't work. It could've been because of the fever and the pnuemonia. The funeral's tomorrow."
She took a deep breath and swallowed hard. Her head hurt and now her heart did, too. "I think you'd better get that doctor now."