Joe Larson

Joshua stretched, looking at the clock. 9:45 PM. "Man, I need a life!" he told his computer. He listened to the house, amazed at the quiet. He clicked the mouse a couple of times, then got up and wandered to his son Tate's room.

Tate was in bed, reading. Twelve years old, and he was reading everything he could lay his hands on. "Hey," Joshua said. "You got your little sister to bed?"

Tate looked up. "You were busy. I read her a story. She fell right to sleep."

"You're a good kid, Tate," Joshua told his son. "I really appreciate your acting so grown up and helping so much."

Tate shrugged, and Joshua walked over and sat on the bed. "What are you reading?"

Tate held the book up. "Gulliver's Travels. It's pretty cool."

Joshua smiled. "You got that from my bookshelf."

"You told me I was old enough to read any of your books I wanted to," Tate said defensively.

"So I did. How do you like the story? How far are you?"

"He just captured that enemy war fleet. I thought that was kind of hokey."

"So did I," Joshua admitted.

Tate looked at his father strangely. "I found this with your other college books. You read kid stories in college?"

It was Joshua's turn to shrug.

"It's not a kids book?" Tate asked.

"Jonathan Swift had a very complex mind, Tate. Enjoy the story. And don't stay up too late. It's a school night."

"It's summer, Dad."

"What? You mean you don't have school tomorrow? Aren't you going to summer school?"

Tate giggled. "The guys are going fishing tomorrow."

"Don't let your beeper get wet, and make sure Wendy knows where you are."

"Thanks, Dad."

Joshua ruffled his son's hair, then stood up.

"Dad? You gonna marry that girl?"

Joshua looked sharply at his son. "Wendy? Not hardly."

Tate giggled again. "Oh, not Wendy! I meant that girl you talk to on the computer. WordSmith."

"You're too smart for your own good, Son. How did you figure that out?"

Tate shrugged.

Joshua decided he didn't really want to know. He had a bright son, for which he was thankful, and he wasn't going to do anything to threaten his son's inquisitive mind. "We're just talking, Tate."

"Didn't look like just talking, Dad."

Joshua sat back down, not ready for this conversation with his 12-year-old son.

"I wasn't spying!" Tate said quickly. "I know you don't like interruptions when you're working, so I stood behind you until you noticed me, just like I always do. Then I saw you were in a chat room, whispering to someone. So I watched."

"When?"

"Last Friday. Every night since then, I just kinda peek to see if you're in a chat room. You work until it's Alyssa's bedtime and the house is quiet, then you go talk to that girl, don't you?"

"Not every night," Joshua admitted to his son.

Tate laughed. "Busted, Dad. So, gonna marry her?"

"How would you feel about that? Your mother has been gone for four years."

"Alyssa and I talked about that," Tate told him.

"You told your little sister?"

"Oh, no. Just in general, what it would be like to have a mom again. You gonna ship us off to boarding school?"

"Is that what you think would happen?"

Tate thought about it. "That's what happens on television when the evil step mom moves in."

"Don't worry, Tate. There are no evil step moms in your future. And no boarding schools."

Tate smiled. "I was just teasing. Is she pretty?"

"She types nicely."

"You don't even know what she looks like? I bet she's hideous!"

"Cooties?"

"She's a girl. Of course she's got cooties."

"She seems very nice, Tate, but it's just words on a screen right now, a little adult conversation that doesn't involve computer software."

"It's okay, Dad. Jimmy's mom got remarried, had Jimmy's new dad is pretty cool. Is WordSmith gonna be cool?"

"I think she might be, Tate, but we haven't even met yet. She probably has really big cooties and one of those high, squeaky voices like fingernails on a chalk board."

Tate giggled again. "Naw... She's probably this awesome babe and is tired of guys just wanting her for her body."

"Probably not, but I don’t think she has cooties, either."

"All girls have cooties," Tate assured him.

"You're okay about this?"

Tate looked at him. "I want veto power before you marry her. In case you can't see all the really nasty cooties. She won't hide 'em from me."

Joshua laughed. "No, I don't believe she could. Nothing's going to happen anytime soon, Tate."

"You're not getting any younger, Dad. And Wendy has started dating. Wendy's okay, but those other three were terrible. I don't want to have to break in very many more nannies. And Alyssa's gonna need someone to watch over her."

"Meaning you don't?"

Tate squirmed.

"You're a good kid, Tate," Joshua told him. "Almost old enough, but sometimes it's good to have an adult around. Sometimes things happen and you just need a little help. Right?"

Tate thought about it. "Like when I got those bee stings?"

"Yeah, times like that. You were happy Wendy was here then."

Tate nodded.

"And sometimes, just knowing there's an adult around, it makes it a little easier to be good, doesn't it?"

Tate thought about it before nodding again.

Joshua got up and headed for the door, then turned around. "You still want to go camping this weekend?"

"With Alyssa?"

"Of course with Alyssa. Did you want to bring one of your friends?"

"Naw. They'll want to put snakes her in sleeping bag or something, then she'll cry. I hate it when she cries. We'll go fishing?"

"You'll have to clean anything we catch."

"That's only fair. I'm the only one who catches anything worth keeping."

Joshua laughed again. "Go to sleep soon."

"Okay, Dad. Say Hi to WordSmith for me."

Joshua closed his son's door as he headed out, then stepped across the hall to his daughter's room. He poked his nose in quietly and saw she was fast asleep, her arms wrapped around Zippy, her pet stuffed tiger. Josh stepped quietly into the room, staring at his daughter for a minute, then stepping out quietly without waking her. He closed the door and returned to his study.

His computer was displaying the chat room dialogue when he got in. At the bottom of the screen, below a divider, were the words, "Welcome, Robber," with an area where he could type what he wanted to say to everyone. Above that was an area where the text of the conversation scrolled along. Joshua quickly checked through the visible conversation -- a couple of dozen messages -- then looked to the left edge. There he could see who had talked recently and how long ago since they had said anything. He saw a bunch of familiar aliases, a few he didn't recognize, as well as WordSmith's. She hadn't said anything for several minutes.

Joshua typed, "/a saunters into the room, looking for familiar faces." He hit return, then cleared the text from his typing area and added, "Hello, Room," before hitting enter again. He looked to see the words that would appear in the dialogue area.

First he saw, "** Robber saunters into the room, looking for familiar faces. **" The screen scrolled down, the older words heading towards the bottom of the screen, pushed down by new arrivals at the top. "Robber: Hello, Room". He waited, watching a few lines from the other people in the chat room flow by, before he saw a chorus of "Hello, Robber," messages stream past from the various people in the room.

Joshua said "hello" to some specific people, exchanging pleasantries and casually joining the ongoing conversation. After a minute or so, he read, "LadySarah whispers: WordSmith says she's lurking."

LadySarah was a friend of WordSmith's and had recognized several weeks ago there seemed to be a lot of conversation going on between Robber and WordSmith. It was nice of her to pass on the message. Joshua typed, "/w LadySarah Thanks. How are you tonight?"

Some of the chatters preferred to use abbreviations. Josh thought it was lazy to type, "Tnx, How r u 2night". He spelled everything out and tried to use reasonable grammar. So did WordSmith and LadySarah as well as several of the other regulars Josh liked to talk to.

Josh and LadySarah exchanged a bunch of whispers while also occasionally making more public statements.

In the middle of a public conversation about the merits of wine over beer and a private conversation about the ongoing problems of home repair, Joshua smiled. "WordSmith whispers: I'm lurking, so you're flirting with other women?"

"/w WordSmith Yep. We're talking about recaulking windows," he typed. "It's a very titillating conversation."

Several messages went by before he received two quickly. "WordSmith whispers: I goofed. Big time. Can we ICQ?" appeared first, followed immediately by, "LadySarah whispers: see you later, Robber. LOL." Laugh Out Loud.

ICQ is a more private, more convenient means for two people to communicate over the internet, but Joshua and WordSmith usually ran into each other in the chat rooms before using ICQ. WordSmith seemed paranoid about hackers, and didn't leave her ICQ program running unless she had someone specific she wanted to talk to.

"Gotta go," he typed. "Police are banging down the door searching for winos or something. See you all some other time. Thanks for the chat, LadySarah, all the rest of you guys."

Then he added, "/w WordSmith Sure. Mine's running."

He waited to see if she would reply in the chat. Instead, ICQ told him that WordSmith was online. Immediately after that, he received a chat request. He killed the public chat window and accepted the chat request from WordSmith. When the screen appeared, he began typing.

"Hey there, Abby. How are you?"

In the public chats, they always used aliases. Public chats are easy for hackers to break into. Joshua wouldn't send top secret data over ICQ, but felt comfortable with first names. Abby -- short for Abigail -- was somewhat more leery, but had finally relented after several dozen conversations, giving Joshua her first name, but no more.

"I goofed, Josh. I could really use a big favor."

"Hey," he typed. "What can I do to help?"

He watched the screen for several seconds, expecting an immediate response. When Abby didn't say anything, he added, "You still there?"

"Yeah," came back immediately. "Don't know how to say this."

"Easiest just to say it," he said. "Don't be embarrassed."

"Okay," she said after a pause. "You remember that poetry we exchanged a few weeks ago?"

"You wrote first, I responded?"

"Yeah," he read as she typed. "I, um... I goofed."

"You goofed?"

"I sorta, well, used it. In something that's going to be published."

"You're getting published? Cool!"

"Thanks. But, um... I didn't think about copyrights. I could pull the piece, but it would be... expensive. Very expensive. Look, can I buy the copyright from you?"

"For the part I wrote?"

"Yeah."

Joshua thought about it. "It'll be expensive," he finally said.

She didn't say anything right away. "How much?" she finally asked him.

Joshua smiled. This was important to her. "Your picture. An 8 by 10, recent, professionally photographed. Too expensive?"

Again a pause. "You know I don't like to give out personal information to anyone I meet over the internet. I've been hacked. And stalked."

Joshua sighed. "I know. I'm sorry. You don't have to send the picture. Do I need to sign anything?"

"I can pay you. How much?"

Joshua frowned. "It's your industry. I don't even know how you used it. What's it worth to you?"

"A grand?"

Joshua was a little shocked at the amount, then a little angry. "How did you use it? And it's worth a grand, but not a picture?"

There was no response except a few dots on the screen to let him know she was still there, but not sure what to say.

"Look, I don't want any money. I wrote those words for you. They're yours now. Do I need to sign anything, or is a 'verbal' okay? And if I have to sign something, how can I get it to you?"

"Fax a note to my manager. He'll send you a check." She listed a fax number.

"I don't want your blasted money, Abby!"

"*crying* I'm sorry, Josh."

"You're not really crying."

"Sniffling a little, then. Josh, I've never been so scared. This guy knew *everything* about me. Then he started calling me, 2 AM sometimes. I had to move twice and get the apartment under a company name before he stopped chasing me."

Joshua offered a generic curse at the assholes of the world. "I'm sorry, Abby. What should the letter to your manager say?"

She dictated a letter that would assign the copyrights to a short poem beginning with "The moon shining slyly," to Abigail, leaving room for the rest of her name. Joshua fired up the word processor software and copied the text into a document. He cleaned up the letter and printed it.

"He'll send you a check," she finally told him. "I don't want to owe you for this."

Josh signed the letter that came off the printer and fed it to his fax machine.

"It's on the way to your manager now," he said. "And you can take the money, buy a nice dress and some earrings, and get a nice picture. Someday, when you trust me, you can send me the picture. I'll know it's the dress and earrings I bought you. Okay?"

"*sigh* Thank you, Josh."

"And some day you'll tell me the whole story, if you can start to trust me."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. So, what did you do today?"

The two of them talked over the computer for another two hours, exchanging stories, telling about plans for the weekend, and eventually turning philosophical.

"What time is it there?" Josh finally asked her.

"Well past my bedtime," she said. "That's why I'm in bed."

"You're in bed? Really?"

"Nearly naked, too," she told him.

"There's an image, you in bed, naked, a small computer covering some of the more interesting places..."

Joshua typed to her for a couple of minutes.

"That's really sweet," she said finally. "Goodnight, Josh."

"Goodnight."

* * *

Abby looked at the clock as she arrived at her apartment. 1:15 AM. She had missed a date with Josh. She walked to her computer anyway, started the internet browser and checked her mail. Several letters from Josh, the most recent one only fifteen minutes old. She didn't even take time to read them, but went straight to the chat room and checked talk times; Josh hadn't said anything for nearly 10 minutes.

Shit.

"/a straggles in, tired and disappointed" she typed, hitting return. When her words appeared in the dialogue section of the screen, they were preceded by her alias.

Abby responded to several hellos and fended off one request from an undersexed 19-year-old boy.

"Robber whispers: Hey, sweet. Missed you. You okay?"

"Yes!" Abby said to her empty apartment, then began typing. "/w Robber ICQ?"

Almost immediately she received a response. "Robber whispers: you say the sweetest things. Waiting for you."

Abby started ICQ. While it was initializing, she returned to her browser and typed, "I'm exhausted, folks, and my fingers are killing me. I'm off to bed. Gone."

She didn't wait for a response, but killed the browser window and initiated a chat with Josh. The two computers negotiated for a moment before the ICQ chat window appeared.

"Hey sweet," she read as Josh typed. "What's wrong? Where were you?"

"I'm sorry, Josh," she responded. "I got dragged out by a friend who wanted me to hear a new band. I wasn't driving and couldn't leave. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I mostly just lurked and got more work done. Might make my deadlines after all. What's wrong with your fingers?"

Abby stared at the screen. Shit. "Slammed them in a filing cabinet," she lied.

"Ouch!" Josh told her. "They okay? You want me to kiss them and make them better?"

"That's a nice thought," she replied. "They're okay. I can type for a little bit. I need to unwind. Too late for you?"

"Naw. Did you like the band? What kind of music?"

Abby thought about it. "Hmm. What kind of music do you listen to?"

"Old stuff," he told her. "Dire Straits, Grateful Dead, that kind of stuff. Some of the new female singers are nice, especially Loreena McKennit."

"You probably would like this music then. It's kind of like Velvet Dreams or..." Abby listed several other groups.

"I've never heard of any of those groups, Abby, except the Pumpkins. Not my cup of tea."

Abby was relieved and disappointed at the same time. The two talked music for a while, finding some common ground.

"Josh, I'm losing it here," she finally told him. "Thanks for unwinding me, but I gotta crash."

"I'll be here tomorrow night, Abby, but I'm gone Friday and Saturday. Going camping with a couple of friends. Canoeing, fishing, that sort of thing. Back sometime on Sunday. Miss me?"

"I'll go clubbing and dance with all the guys," she threatened.

"Think of me during the slow dances."

"No slow dances in the clubs I hit," she told him. "Good night, Josh."

"Dream of me," she read as she closed down the program.

Abby reached her hands out to the screen for a moment. "I will, Robber," she said aloud.

After a moment, Abby stood up and walked over to stand in front of a framed plaque on her wall. She read the words, "Shining Star Records, Best Debut Album, 1997, Velvet Dreams, Dream Softly."

* * *

"Remember, Tate," Josh told his son Thursday night. "We'll leave as soon as I get home from work tomorrow night. I expect you to have yourself and Alyssa all ready to go."

"No problem, Dad," Tate replied. "We'll even have sandwiches for the car."

"Good man," Josh said, beaming. "Did you finish Gulliver's Travels yet?"

"Yeah. It's a parody, isn't it?"

Josh laughed. "Jonathan Swift is the king of parody, kiddo, but I'm amazed you figured that out."

"Well, I read that one about the kids in Ireland, too."

"That one's kind of adult for a 12-year-old."

Tate shrugged. "So, does she like kids?"

"Does who like kids?"

"WordSmith! Does she like kids? Does she have any of her own."

"I don't think she has any. We haven't talked about it."

Tate's eyes narrowed. "She doesn't know about me and Alyssa?"

"It hasn't come up."

"Why not? You ashamed of us?"

Josh looked at his son sharply, noticed the corners of his mouth were twitching, and decided to play along. "Not ashamed, exactly. But when she finds out what a teasing monster your are, she'll run away."

Tate laughed.

"Hmm. Or maybe start plotting with you."

"Oooh," Tate said. "Two to one!"

"You're a good kid, Tate my boy. Don't stay up too late."

"Good night, Dad."

Josh got up, ruffled Tate's hair, and headed off to Alyssa's bedroom. She was still awake.

"Hi, Daddy," she said.

"You're still awake?"

"Tate said it was your turn to read me a story. I've been waiting for hours."

"Ten minutes," Josh said. "I heard you splashing around when you brushed your teeth. What story did you want?"

Alyssa mentioned the longest story in her collection. Typical stall tactic. Josh grabbed a shorter one. Alyssa sighed, but didn't complain.

Josh sat down on his daughter's bed and held her while opening the book. He read the story to her, asking her to read the parts when the magic frog talked. She tried to do a frog voice, which Josh found amusing, but he avoided laughing.

They finished the story together, and Josh produced a second storybook. Alyssa giggled. Josh read the story slowly and quietly, watching as his daughter's eyes started to droop. She wasn't asleep by the end of the story, but she would be in just a few more minutes. Josh gave her a kiss, helped her settle in, then arranged the sheets carefully. "Good night, sweetie," he told her.

Josh returned to his study and found WordSmith was already chatting. Josh lurked for a minute, then noticed whispers being exchanged between WordSmith and LongShlong, one of the 22-year-old guys who was always looking for women to talk to him. He was usually pretty crude about it, too.

"/a Walks in, immediately sees WordSmith, and walks across the room to her," he typed, hitting return. "May I have this dance, m'lady?" he added.

Her response came nearly immediately. "** WordSmith takes the offered hand and melts into Robber's arms **"

"/w WordSmith Unless you wanted to talk to the young man," he told her, grinning.

"WordSmith whispers: Oh, thank god you're here. You gonna bait him now?"

"/w WordSmith Maybe a little. I take it he wouldn't take no for an answer?"

Josh responded to a few Hellos before Abby's response came.

"WordSmith whispers: You gonna get him or what?"

Josh smiled as he typed. "/a weaves his beautiful, graceful partner through the crowd, turning her in a pirouette in front of LongDork."

He watched as Abby's line came right after his. "WordSmith accidentally steps on LongNose's toes as she dances past."

"Oh, hey, sorry, Long," he typed.

Josh watched another whisper from the idiot kid to WordSmith.

"/b LongShlong," he typed. The boot command, if enough others joined him, would kick the kid out of the chat room, at least until he could come back with a different name.

Watching, he saw WordSmith had beaten him to it. After another few seconds, five more people joined in, kicking the idiot out of the chat room. The regulars in the room always stuck up for each other.

"WordSmith: Thanks everyone. What a jerk. Cybering AT me for crying out loud!"

There were several brief messages lamenting how stupid some people were that they wouldn't get it, especially as obvious as Robber and WordSmith were being.

"/w WordSmith Why don't you just /i him?" /I stands for ignore. If the idiot kid had sent any further whispers, he would have seen that WordSmith was ignoring him.

"WordSmith whispers: I guess I just hate to be rude. LOL." Laugh Out Loud.

Josh and Abby continue to exchange whispers to themselves while talking to the other regulars in the room. After a while, Josh received a whisper from Abby inviting him to ICQ chat, which is easier and more private.

"/w WordSmith Everyone already knows about us, I think. How do you feel about that?"

He waited a few seconds for her response.

"WordSmith whispers: I know. We're not that subtle. It's okay with me."

"/w WordSmith Good. Tee hee."

He told the room he was camping this weekend and wouldn't be back until Sunday then typed, "/a throws WordSmith over his shoulder and carries her off to ICQ."

Josh initiated an ICQ chat with Abby while watching the response in the chat room. There were a ton of laughs, a "go get her, Robber", and Abby's response:

"WordSmith: *yelling* Help! Help! Put me down! *screams*."

Abby accepted the ICQ chat request, and the chat screen appeared.

"LMAO," Josh read as Abby typed. Laugh My Ass Off.

"You don't mind that?" Josh asked her.

"No. It was pretty funny."

"Well, probably not very original," Josh admitted. "But it amused me and apparently the rest of the room. Hmm. I didn't ask last night. Did your manager at work receive my fax? Was everything okay?"

"Everything is great, Josh," Abby told him. "Thank you. I'll go shopping for a dress this weekend. What style did you have in mind?"

"You don't have to do that."

"Actually, it's very romantic," she told him. "And well within my clothing budget."

"Okay. I don't know how much $1000 buys for women's clothing, but here's what I'm thinking," he typed. "Off the shoulder, something you can dance in. You'll have to decide how low you want it cut, but I love off the shoulder. Low heels you can also dance in. Necklace and earrings."

"Black?"

"Black is good, or a gem tone. I like color, but black is easier to find."

"Okay," Abby told him. "I can do that."

"Remember to leave money for a photographer. I want professionally photographed pictures."

"*smile* Okay, Josh. No problem. Tell me about your pending camping trip."

The two talked for over two hours, the conversation touching on camping, childhood experiences, and whether Abby liked her hair up or down."

"I like it down," Josh told her.

"How would you know? You've never seen it."

"If you wear it up, I can't run my fingers through it. So I like it down. I honestly don't understand women who wear their hair up, anyway. It looks so much better down."

"Up shows off my shapely neck."

"I want to see your neck, I'll see it when I lift your hair out of the way to plant a kiss right on your spine."

"That would be nice," Abby told him.

"When?" Josh asked.

The screen frooze.

"Come on, Abby. When? Ever?"

"Josh...."

"Ever? Never?"

"Not never," she replied.

"This year? Next?"

"Josh. I don't know."

"Not next weekend?"

"Are you serious?"

"I would be if you were ready, but right now I'm just trying to bracket a range."

"No, not next weekend."

"Ten years from yesterday?"

"*LOL* I don't think it'll take that long. Josh, patience. Please."

"Are you married and not telling me?"

"What? No. Absolutely no commitments like that."

"Abby, you have to start to trust me sometime. Give me your last name."

The screen was still.

"Come on, Abby. If not your last name, how about your middle? Or at least the initial."

"Jade," she told him right away. "My middle name is Jade."

"Thank you, Abigail Jade. Did I tell you why I call myself 'Robber'?"

"You said it was a play on your name. I never asked after that."

"You know my name is Joshua James."

"Right."

"My middle name is Jerome."

"???"

"What's the more familiar form of Jerome?"

"Jessie? Oh god! Jessie James!"

"My parents have a sense of humor."

"So, tell me about this camping trip. Where are you going? What will you do? Do you stay in tents? Tell me everything."

"We're just going to one of the large county parks," Josh told her. "The county where I live has these huge park reserves encompassing entire lakes. We're going to one of them. Yes, we stay in tents. We'll bring the canoe -- fish, swim, laze about. Pancakes in the morning. Sandwiches for lunch. Burgers, brats, any fish we catch, that kind of stuff for dinner."

"Pup tents?"

"No. We can drive right up to the camp site, so I don't have to worry about weight. I have a family-sized tent for these occasions. Blow up air mattresses to keep us off the ground. It's quite comfortable."

"I've never been camping," she told him.

"Never?"

"Not once."

"I can change that."

"You and I, sleeping under the stares, the crickets singing a sweet lullaby... That sounds nice."

"Zipping our sleeping bags together, cuddling for shared warmth..."

"Oh, no," she said, teasing. "We couldn't do that! What would the crickets think?"

"LOL."

"Josh, ever thinking about having kids?"

"With you? That might be nice."

"LOL. No, not with me. With, well, anyone."

"Oh, not with just anyone. She would have to be very special."

"I'm serious, Josh. Are kids important to you? My lifestyle... I don't know if they would fit."

Josh stared at the screen.

"You don't like kids," he finally asked her.

"It's not that, Josh," she typed to him. "But I travel a lot for work. Nothing for a long time, then suddenly I can be gone for weeks."

Josh thought carefully before typing.

"I don't know your last name, and we're having a discussion about having kids."

"Seems kind of strange, I admit."

"Abby, you won't need to give me any children. But if you want to, that's okay, too. I'll take care of them just fine when you're out of town. We could get a nanny in to help."

"Nanny? You can still find people to do that?"

Josh smiled. "Yeah, you can. I know a few people here who use nannies. Usually they're unwed mothers -- recently divorced, perhaps -- with one or two children of her own to watch. So you get her and her kids in your home during the day. It works fairly well, I guess, provided your job has some flexibility."

"*Smile*," appeared on his screen.

The conversation moved to safer topics.

* * *

Abby walked into the fifth store and looked around. "I don't know why I didn't start here," she muttered after a moment, glancing at her watch. "Damn. I'm going to be late." She headed straight to a sales clerk, who looked up.

"I'm running out of time," she said. "I need a dress and a pair of shoes. The dress should be off the shoulder, and I would really like it ruby red but could go with black if I have to."

"Of course," said the clerk. "I think I have just the thing."

The clerk led Abby deeper into the store. When Abby saw the available dresses, she again wondered why she hadn't started her.

"Ruby red," the clerk said. "Off the shoulder. Hmm." She selected a dress, looked at it, eyeing Abby, then put it back and pulled out another one. "If you want to try this on, I'll run to the shoe department and see what I can bring back. Do you know your shoe size?"

"Seven and a half," Abby replied. "I'll be going dancing and be on my feet a lot."

"I'll meet you back here," the clerk promised. "Dressing rooms are..."

"I know where they are," Abby told her. "Thank you," she added warmly.

The clerk nodded as if to say "it's just part of the job" before heading briskly in the direction of shoes.

Twenty minutes later, everything was boxed up and Abby handed her credit card to the clerk. As the clerk rang the sale, Abby made a decision. "Can you get a manager here?" Abby asked her. "Preferably the store manager? Quickly?"

The woman looked at her sharply. "Is there something wrong?"

"Please, can you?"

The clerk nervously nodded and picked up the phone, speaking into it. "Ms. Wilson will be here right away. She's the assistant store manager."

Abby nodded as the clerk finished ringing the order, glancing nervously at Abby. As Abby signed the bill, she heard a woman's step approach from behind her.

"Is there something wrong, ma'am?"

Abby turned around. "No, there most certainly is not. This is my fifth store today. I walked up to this clerk... um... Joan, and told her what I needed. She has done a most wonderful job taking care of me. Thanking her alone just seemed so... inadequate."

"My name is Sarah Wilson," the woman said, holding out her hand.

Abby took the hand and shook briefly. "Abby Michaelson."

"I've very pleased Joan was able to take care of your needs," said Sarah Wilson.

Abby heard a gawking sound from behind her. Alarmed, she turned to look at the clerk -- Joan. The woman had her mouth open and she was pointing.

"You're... you're..."

Abby smiled. "Yes, I am. It's no big deal."

"But..." said Joan. "I love you!"

"Joan!" said the manager.

"Oh, it's quite all right," said Abby. "Thank you. We try very hard, and it's nice to be appreciated."

She turned to the manager. "Do you have a card?"

The woman produced one. Abby asked Joan for her last name, then wrote it on the back of the card. "I thought I was going to be late for a photo shoot," she said. "But now I'm right on time. Thank you, Joan. Sarah, take care of this woman."

Abby shook hands with the two women, picked up her parcels, and headed for the door. Behind her, she heard Sarah Wilson ask, "who is that?" Abby didn't hear what Joan said, but then heard Sarah say, "who?" Abby smiled on her way out of the store.

* * *

"Good one, Alyssa!" Joshua said, eyeing the fish his daughter had just pulled into the boat. "You're going to keep your brother busy cleaning fish for hours when we go back in."

Alyssa giggled, turning the pole to her father to free the fish and rebait her hook. Joshua threw the fish in the basket while Alyssa turned her line to the exact same spot she had been working for the last half hour.

Joshua spent the next hour making sure Alyssa stayed entertained, earning glares from Tate. "If you guys won't be quiet, how am I going to catch any fish?" he finally asked.

"My talking hasn't slowed your sister down," Joshua pointed out.

Alyssa pulled in her fourth fish. While Joshua was unhooking it, he noticed Tate move his line to Alyssa's spot. Alyssa noticed, but didn't say anything. Josh raised an eyebrow.

"He's got the wrong spot," Alyssa whispered. "They're on the other side of that lilly pad. I tried his side and didn't catch a thing."

Joshua smiled. Alyssa didn't whisper very quietly, and Tate moved his line.

Alyssa didn't even squawk. Instead, she plunked her freshly baited line into a completely different spot.

When the two of them each caught a fish within just a few seconds of each other, Joshua declared the basket full, their limit reached, and time to head in.

Both children complained, but Joshua knew enough to end a good thing while it was still a good thing.

* * *

The photo shoot was in a local theater. The stage gave plenty of room while being a controlable environment. The photographer shot a half dozen rolls of film of Abby and the rest of the band members. Some of the photos were staged, some were candids as the band went through a rehearsal and discussed a new song they were pulling together. Eventually he turned off his lights. "I've got enough," he announced.

"Jim," Abby said, "Do you have time for a few more rolls? Personal, for me? I'll need to change, but if you have the time, I would really appreciate it."

"No problem," the photographer told her. "Plenty of film, and I don't need to be anywhere."

"Thank you. Keep these separate and bill me, okay?" Abby told him over her shoulder as she headed to a changing room.

Several minutes later, Abby had touched up her makeup and changed into the ruby red evening dress, new necklace, and earrings. She had brushed her hair and pulled it to one side, exposing her neck, but otherwise leaving the hair down.

The rest of the band, the photographer, and Kevin, the band's manager, were all still sitting around chatting when Abby reappeared. Jim saw her first and nodded at her as everyone else turned around to stare. Kevin leaned over to Jim and spoke quietly.

"Bill the band, and take plenty."

Jim nodded, getting up. He turned on the lights and looked at Abby. "Anything special?"

"I want to look like I'm going out dancing," she told him.

Jim nodded again, thinking for a moment. "Okay. Can you just kinda walk around a bit, let me take some shots, see how it goes." Abby did as she was told, and Jim began taking photos.

After a roll and a half, he stopped her. "What's wrong, Abby?"

"Nothing's wrong," she replied, startled.

"Look, you're tense, and it's going to come out in the photos."

Abby thought about it. "I'm nervous. I want this to be perfect."

"Well, it's not." Jim looked at her. "You weren't nervous earlier."

Abby shrugged.

Jim turned to look at the rest of the band, who had quietly watched as Abby moved around the stage. "Guys, you up to doing what we were doing before?"

"Sure," said Eric, the bass player, "We've got two more hours of rehearsals, anyway." The rest of the band nodded agreement, and they quickly retook the stage, collecting their instruments on the way.

It didn't take long for Abby to relax. Jim and Kevin exchanged nods. Eventually, Abby turned to Jim.

"Please Jim, dancing," she told him.

"Trust me, Abby, I know what you want, and I'm getting it."

"All the shots have had a guitar around my neck."

"Let's do 'Free Flight'," Kevin suggested. 'Free Flight' didn't need the lead guitarist. "Let Linda sing the vocals."

Abby nodded and set her guitar in its stand. Jim motioned where he wanted her, and she moved to a clear area of the stage.

"Just move around a little, Abby, listening to the song."

By the time the song ended, Abby was smiling, looking straight at Jim, her head cocked to the music. The final note played, and Jim set his camera aside.

"Perfect," he announced.

Abby didn't say anything for a moment, then nodded. "Thank you, Jim. Remember to keep these separate and bill me."

Three days later, Kevin and Jim selected the photos to be used for the upcoming CD. On the cover was a shot of the band clustered around the lead singer and guitarist as she explained how she wanted a song played.

Her ruby red dress looked exquisite.

* * *

Sunday night, Joshua tucked Alyssa into bed early, as she had nearly fallen asleep over dinner and a short Disney afterwards. Returning downstairs, Joshua found Tate booting Joshua's computer.

"What's up, Tate?"

Tate looked at his father. "I want to ask WordSmith some questions."

Joshua raised an eyebrow.

"I'll pretend I'm you," Tate suggested.

"She'll know. You don't type very fast."

"We'll tell her I'm Auntie Liz, then, your little sister, and that I've heard so much about her."

"Take a hike, Tate." Joshua smiled to indicate he wasn't upset.

Tate looked nervous. "Come on, Dad. Just a couple. Please?"

Joshua frowned, but Tate gave him his best puppy-dog eyes.

"Oh, geeze. But I'm typing."

"All right!" yelled Tate as he slid the chair away from in front of the computer. Joshua pulled another chair up and sat at the keyboard. Tate had already started the web browser, so Joshua only needed to select the chat room from the list of bookmarks.

"She probably won't be here yet," Joshua said before the screen completely refreshed on the chat room. Tate leaned closely and giggled before pointing at the screen.

"Ask her what time she thinks kids should go to bed," Tate ordered.

Joshua laughed, scanned the list of other names, then began typing. "Hey, room. Keep it clean, my little sister is watching, and she's practically a nun. Please don't embarrass me."

Tate laughed while Joshua hit return. Sometimes the room can get a little inappropriate for a 12-year-old. He didn't intend to stay any longer than it took to get Abby off to ICQ.

What followed was a flurry of greetings and a few guys asking if little sister was cute. Joshua looked at Tate to see what he thought of that. Tate just watched the screen.

Joshua sent WordSmith a whisper. "ICQ? Please? Before someone gets obnoxious?"

"Aw, Dad..." Tate complained.

"If you're going to be learning adult words," Joshua told him, "I want them to come from your friends."

Tate laughed.

WordSmith replied that her ICQ was just coming up and she would see him there.

Joshua typed, "/a gone", then closed the browser.

"Hey!" complained Tate. "I thought we were gonna ask her questions."

"We are," explained Joshua. "Just not there. Patience, impatient one." Joshua watched ICQ, and WordSmith showed up online after just another moment or so. He initiated a chat immediately. Shortly, the familiar window appears.

"Say 'hi' to Liz," Joshua typed.

"Hey, Liz," Abby typed.

"Cool!" says Tate.

"She says, 'cool'," Joshua told Abby.

"Let her type," Abby commanded.

"Yeah, let me type," Tate said.

"Not a chance," Joshua told them both. "The two of you will start dissecting me, and I'll never hear the end of it from either of you."

"You got that right," Abby agreed. "Liz, get your own computer and we can compare notes later."

"LOL," Joshua typed, then explained the abbreviation to Tate. "She has her own computer, but she knows I would be *very* angry if she talked to you behind my back." Joshua gave his son a pointed look.

"Okay, okay," said Tate. "I get the hint."

"So, Joshua, you told your little sister about me?"

"She's very clever and was actually able to figure out something was up all on her own. So she's been asking me all sorts of questions. And then she said she wanted to meet you and ask you a few, too. I think they're mostly about kids."

"Kids? *gulp*," Abby typed. "Um. Okay, I guess."

"Ask her if she wants any," Tate said. "Ask her if she already has any."

"Abby," Joshua typed. "I know we've been through some of this, but Liz wants to know for herself. She doesn't believe me. Do you have any kids? Do you want any?"

The screen froze for a moment. "LOL. Start with the hard ones, huh?"

"I think those were as easy as they're gonna get," Joshua warned her.

"Right. No, no kids. Never married, always careful. I guess I would like some someday, but... my job. I work strange hours, and I can be gone for weeks at a time, once or twice a year. You can't raise kids like that."

Joshua looked at his son, who was looking very unhappy. "Hang on, Tate."

"There's always boarding school," he typed.

The answer came back right away. "No way! Absolutely not. Maybe this nanny thing you mentioned would work, but no way would we ship our kids off to boarding school."

Joshua gave Tate a knowing look. "See, I told you. No boarding school."

"She still has cooties, Dad," Tate said knowingly. "Ask her if she likes to bake chocolate chip cookies."

Joshua laughed. "Liz wants to know if you'll come for Thanksgiving, and if she can count on you for dessert."

Abby didn't reply.

"If not this year," Joshua added, "Maybe next year, or the year after."

Abby still paused before replying. "I went shopping yesterday, Joshua. I bought a ruby red dress. And got pictures." She paused. "I missed you, and I thought about you."

Joshua felt his heart speed up a little, then glanced at Tate, who looked puzzled.

"What's that got to do with cookies?" Tate asked.

"Go to bed, Tate."

Tate looked at his father. "No! I wanna know what she's talking about. You just invited her to come visit. Is she coming?"

"I missed you, too," Joshua typed. "But Liz is confused."

"Tell her about the dress," Abby suggested. "Joshua, I don't know if I can come at Thanksgiving. I think I'm going to be on one of my trips, and I don't know if I can get away or not. Maybe, and I'm only saying maybe for now, maybe I can come then, and maybe not until Christmas or Easter."

"Go to bed, Tate," Joshua told him.

"Cookies."

Joshua sighed. "Dessert?"

"LOL," Abby typed immediately. "The only sweets I know how to bake are chocolate chip cookies. But I could spring for Baker Square pies. Do you have those there?"

"Go to bed, Tate."

Tate laughed. "It's early, Dad. I'm gonna watch television." He got up and started to walk out of the office, then turned around. "She's still got cooties, Dad."

"Small ones?" Joshua asked.

"Maybe only small ones," Tate agreed. "Will she bring us presents when she comes?"

"No," Joshua told him.

"Why not? Won't she try to buy our affection?"

"Just what have you been reading?"

Tate giggled on the way out of the office. Joshua turned back to the computer.

"You still there?" he read.

"Sorry. Liz was just leaving. I think she's looking forward to meeting you."

"You know, Joshua, just knowing you have a little sister who's trying to look out for you, well, it's very sweet."

Joshua gulped, then typed. "Liz went home. You really think you can come for Thanksgiving?"

"I think my trip is in the way. We travel, hitting a lot of cities on both coasts. I might be stuck someplace strange or just so tired I want nothing more than to just go home and sleep."

"What do you do on these trips?"

"Umm...." Abby typed, then paused. Joshua waited patiently. "I think you could call it product demos, if you like. I have to be quite the performer, and it's exhausting."

Joshua thought about it for a moment. "Abby, come here for Thanksgiving. You don't have anyone at home to pamper you, so let me."

"Joshua..." Pause. "That's incredibly sweet. I just...."

Abby changed the subject, and the two of them talked about their weekends.

Both of them failed to share the most important details.

* * *

Summer wore on. Joshua continued to work for his clients. Wendy admitted to Tate that yes, she was in love, but that she wasn't going to rush anything. Joshua and Abigail talked every night, regardless of their schedules. And Sweet Dreams, the new Velvet Dreams CD hit the streets on September first.

As had become their tradition, the band held a party on August 31st, the day before their CD became available to the public. Kevin, the manager, brought in commemorative CDs for each band member. It was the first time Abby got to see the cover; Kevin had kept it from her until it was too late to stop it.

Kevin handed out the CDs, handing one to Abby last. The immediate reaction of most of the band was, "Awesome cover, Kevin!"

Abby accepted the case from Kevin and looked at it. Her lips grew tight, and the room grew quiet waiting for her reaction.

Instead, Abby dropped the case on the sofa next to her, got up, and walked out of Kevin's house.

Everyone stared at her. The silence was eventually broken by Kevin. "Shit," was all he said, then started to get up.

Linda, keyboards and backup vocals, looked at Kevin. "You didn't ask her about that picture? Jesus, Kevin! It was pretty damned obvious there was something special about that dress."

Kevin looked at her. "Yeah. It made an awesome album cover." He looked chagrined. "I thought she would be flattered."

Everyone agreed it did indeed make an awesome album cover, but also declared Kevin an insensitive clod. He nodded and chased Abby out the door.

He found her leaning against her car -- an unassuming but attractive green Saturn -- staring into space.

"Hey," he said as he approached and leaned on the car next to her.

"You bastard!" Abby told him. "You did that on purpose."

"It's a great cover," Kevin said quietly.

"You could have asked me if it was okay."

"You would have said no."

"Damn straight!"

"Abby, that album hits the stores tomorrow. With that photo. You become an instant diva, if you weren't already."

"We're a band, Kevin."

"Divas sell better than faceless bands. People will see that cover and know who is the creative talent behind Velvet Dreams."

"Kevin, that dress was special. How many times did I tell Jim to bill me, not the band? Damn it! And what is everyone else going to think if you start showcasing me as The star of Velvet Dreams."

"I don't know? Why don't we ask them?" Kevin hooked a thumb over his shoulder. Abby turned to look in the indicated direction and saw the rest of the band quietly watching them.

No one said a word before Steve, the other guitar player, asked Kevin, "So, Kev. Is that picture going to sell more CDs?"

"This album is going gold," Kevin said. "Selling Abby as the band diva will add fifty percent to the sales, maybe more."

"Bullshit," Abby said.

"He's right," Linda countered. "The public likes to know their stars personally."

Abby looked at Linda, the distress clear in her eyes.

"I have an announcement," Linda said. Everyone looked at her. "I'm pregnant. Laren and I have talked about it. This is my last tour."

The distress in Abby's eyes grew. Before she could say anything, Linda continued. "We decided last week, Abby. Before I saw that awesome photo." Linda started to tear up. "I'm gonna miss you guys, but I'm gonna be a mommy."

Abby came around her car, holding her arms open to her best friend. "Congratulations, Linda! I'm gonna miss you, girl. Where are we gonna find a keyboardist like you?"

"Abby, after this album, after this tour, you'll be able to get any keyboardist you want."

"Everyone's going to think you departed over artistic reasons," Abby cried.

Linda dried her eyes and looked her friend in the eye, then began to smile. "Not if we do it right. Oh, we are gonna have fun!"

Linda began describing her plan. It didn't take long before Abby began to smile, and soon the entire band was contributing ideas.

Eventually, Abby turned to Kevin. "You're still a bastard," she declared.

"Granted," he said. "And you, my dear, are going to be rich." He waved at the entire band. "All of you. But I think maybe I was wrong about gold. I'm thinking platinum."

* * *

September arrived, bringing the return of school for Joshua's children. Joshua continued to employ Wendy, not wanting to lose her services. Initial sales of Sweet Dreams exceeded predictions, pleasing all involved while complicating the tour schedule. Instead of being able to perform in modest venues for a single night, it looked like the band would have enough draw for larger venues or multiple performances in each city.

"We've never played in a big auditorium," complained Abigail.

"Different sound system, different acoustics," Eric pointed out.

Linda pursed her lips. "And, well, the smaller places just seem more personal."

"Abby's voice won't survive two nights at each city," Kevin reminded them all.

Abby smiled. "If Linda sings lead vocals on a couple more of my songs, my voice will be fine." She paused. "Shit. That means the tour takes twice as long."

"Not it doesn't," Kevin said. "Same amount of travel days." He looked at Abby. "Could you do both a matinee and a evening concert in the same day?"

Abby looked at him. "So, the schedule?"

Kevin hmmed. "Kickoff on Hallowe'en?" Abby nodded. "Last concert, New Year's Eve. We'll get fifty bucks a ticket that night."

Abby looked at the band's manager. "Shit. What am I going to tell Joshua?"

Everyone looked at her. "Who's Joshua?" asked Eric.

Kevin answered for her. "The guy who wrote Slyly."

Linda laughed. "And bought the red dress, I bet! You go, girl!"

* * *

Two days later, Joshua was sitting at a stop light when a car driven by a kid who barely looked old enough to drive pulled up next to him. The kid's radio was blaring loudly. Joshua barely made out a few words before the light changed and the kid roared off.

Joshua cocked his head. "I've heard that before..."

* * *

"Hey, Joshua," Abby typed. "We're hammering out dates for the business trip. I'm sorry."

Joshua stared at the screen. "Sorry?"

"Halloween to New Year, basically," he read as Abby typed. " It's going to be a tougher trip than I'm used to. I'm sorry."

"Can I meet you somewhere?"

The screen was silent.

"Please," he added.

Abby typed a few dots to let Joshua know she was thinking about it, but the next word was not what he wanted to hear. "No. I'm sorry. I won't have any time for you, and I want our time together to be special."

"I just want to see you."

"I'm sorry. I might be able to take a few days to see you, but I might just be so exhausted I don't want to see anyone. Easter."

"Easter." Joshua didn't type anything else.

There was a pause, then Abby began typing again. "What's your phone number?"

"What?"

"Can I call you? Right now?"

"Yes!" Joshua typed his phone number. Fifteen seconds, the phone rang, and he picked up immediately.

"Abigail Jade...." Joshua said into the telephone.

"Joshua Jerome James," Abby told him. "You don’t mind my calling? I wanted to hear your voice."

"My voice is nothing to wait up for, Abigail," Joshua told her. "Yours, on the other hand, is incredible."

"I'm glad you're pleased, Joshua," Abby told him.

The two talked for three hours. Not once did the subject of Abby's visit come up. Tate poked his nose in once, figured out who his father was talking to, and headed to bed, grinning.

* * *

Joshua and Abby settled into a new routine involving continued online chatting and several phone calls weekly. Hallowe'en rapidly approached, but Abby assured Joshua she would make sure they could continue their conversations.

Not once did Joshua mention his children, and Abby refused to share any information that could be used to find out who she was.

* * *

Several times throughout September and October, Joshua heard a song with familiar words. He decided he had heard the singer's voice, as well, but couldn't place it.

On the third Saturday in October, Tate and Alyssa talked their father into taking them to the mall. Predictably, Tate needed a new pair of jeans. Alyssa, of course, wanted one of everything. The three of them were sitting in a food court eating lunch when Joshua heard the song. He looked at his children.

"Do either of you know what this song is?" he asked them. "It sounds familiar, but I've never heard it clearly enough to understand the words."

Alyssa giggled. Tate listened just for a moment before saying, "It's the new Velvet Dreams song, Dad. Everyone knows that. Not at all like Barry Manilow, so you probably wouldn't like them."

Joshua spared a moment to give his son a dirty look before turning thoughtful. "Velvet Dreams? I've heard that name before."

"They're on the radio all the time," Tate told him.

"No... Not on the radio." He looked at his son closely. "Do you have this CD?"

"It just came out." Tate rarely spends his own money on CDs, an expensive luxury on a 12-year-old's allowance, and gets most of his for a March birthday or at Christmas.

"Right. Next stop, Sam Goody," Joshua announced. "There's something about this song...."

"You won't like it, Dad," Tate told him as Alyssa nodded an 8-year-old's knowing look.

They finished lunch, and Joshua hurried them off to Sam Goody's. Alyssa in tow, Joshua followed his son down the rows until Tate stopped at the right place and pulled out a copy of Sweet Dreams. He looked at the cover, then turned it over and read the song list off the back. "Third one," he told his father before handing the CD to him, back side up.

Joshua read the title of the third song, "Slyly." Joshua read the word several times, then turned the CD case over. On the cover was the Velvet Dreams band. The guitarist was wearing a ruby red dress. Joshua just stared at the picture.

"Abby," he said quietly.

* * *

Joshua spent the afternoon surfing the web and listening to the entire Sweet Dreams CD. His son was right -- he didn't like most of the album, but the third song was in a different style. The lead singer's voice, played in the quiet of Joshua's office, came through clearly enough. Abby had changed some of the words, but there was no doubt: this was the poetry he had written to her.

Velvet Dreams had a professionally-designed web page, with information on each of their albums and photos of all the band members. Joshua paid particular attention to this section, but decided he liked the cover of the new album the best.

Eventually, he found what he knew would be there: a concert schedule. First concert in Boston on Hallowe'en, final concert in New York on New Year's Eve. The band would be in Austin, Texas for a Saturday concert immediately after Thanksgiving, but had the preceding week off, with the last concert before Thanksgiving on Saturday.

Joshua stared quietly at the city name, then turned off his computer, killed the CD player, and stormed outside to putter in the yard.

* * *

"Why don't you trust me, Abigail?"

Abby stared at the screen, a lump in her throat. "I trust you, Joshua."

"No you don't," came the reply. "Why don't you want to see me?"

"Please don't do this," she asked him. "I do want to see you."

"Right. When do I get my picture?"

"Joshua..."

"When will you tell me your last name?"

"Please."

"When do I get a signed copy of your book?"

"Stop. Please stop this."

"Are you famous?"

Abby stared at the words. "He knows," she thought. She dropped her hands to her lap and just stared.

"Come on, Abby! Are you famous? If I go to the bookstore, and look real hard, will I find a book by Abigail Jade something-or-other, with a poem about a sly moon?"

Abby could breathe again. A book... He didn't know. "No, Joshua, no book."

The screen was still for a moment, then words began to appear again, slowly, much more slowly than Joshua ever typed. As the letters formed into words, Abby felt a lump form in her throat.

"Abigail, I thought I was falling in love with you," she read.

"Joshua! Please stop!" she typed.

"I thought you felt the same about me."

"Oh god, Joshua, please please please..."

"I guess I was wrong." Abby felt the tears begin to run down her cheeks.

"Please don't call. Goodbye."

Abby stared at the screen for a moment before ICQ informed her Joshua had closed down his computer.

That's when the sobs started.

* * *

Joshua didn't touch his computer for three days, not even for work Instead, he busied himself preparing the yard and the house for winter, taking care of mindless duties, trying to ignore the numbness he felt.

When he finally realized he still had a job to do and returned to his computer, he did so without reading his email, or stopping by any chat rooms, or turning on ICQ.

* * *

Velvet Dreams began their concert tour on schedule amidst rave reviews. Fans were disappointed to learn that Linda would be leaving the band, but applauded the news of her child.

Secretly, they all thought Abby did a better job singing "Slyly", but decided it was a classy touch to let Linda sing it during the concert tour.

* * *

"Tate, that band is here right before Thanksgiving. How would you like to go?"

"Which band?" Tate asked, looking up from the book he had been reading.

"Velvet Dreams," Joshua answered. "Would you like to go? They're playing downtown. We'll make an entire day of it. Alyssa can stay with your grandmother."

"You're kidding?," Tate declared incredulously. "You don't even like them."

"I'm trying to broaden my horizons," Joshua told him. "And I think you're old enough for a carefully-chaperoned concert."

"That would be really cool, Dad, but there weren't very many tickets available. It's sold out."

Joshua smiled, but not as widely as his son upon noticing the pair of tickets Joshua held in his hand.

* * *

"Abby," Kevin told her after she put down the phone. "You're a wreck. I'm sorry, we shouldn't have scheduled such a tight concert schedule. I won't do it again."

"I'm fine, Kevin," Abby told him, smiling wanefully. "Linda's singing half the songs, and the fans love it. She could have her own career after this."

"Only on your songs," Kevin said. "Only with this band, that you pulled together, that you continue to inspire." He paused. "In spite of what's going on inside you."

Abby looked at him sharply. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm perfectly fine."

"Abby," Kevin said, "I'm here if you need someone to talk to. Anyone in the band would be more than happy to provide a shoulder to you. Lord knows you've done it enough for us. All of us."

Abby looked at her friend, then moved forward into a hug, resting her head on his shoulder for a moment.

"I hurt, Kevin," she told him quietly. "But I'll be okay after tonight. Sing, sign autographs, and go home for Thanksgiving. I'll be fine once we hit Austin." She kissed his cheek before pulling away and looking around. "But I think maybe I could use some help with my makeup tonight." She paused. "And I'm gonna wear the red dress." She paused again. "And I think I'm gonna ask Linda if she minds if I sing Slyly tonight."

* * *

Joshua and Tate left the house at 12:30, spending the day downtown shopping, eating junk food, and just hanging out. Neither of them bought very much, but they both reveled in the time they spent together.

They headed for the concert early. Joshua had briefed Tate on what to expect. As it turned out, the crowd was tamer than Joshua had expected, and Tate heard his father wonder what happened to the days of the dead heads.

Joshua bought his son a Velvet Dreams tee-shirt and concert program, and Tate bought his little sister a Velvet Dreams pillow case. Joshua smiled and ruffled his son's hair.

Joshua was surprised at how full the concert hall was, and even more surprised that everyone appeared to arrive early and be seated on time. Right at 8 PM, he learned why.

The hall lights dimmed, and a group of young musicians took the stage. Joshua leaned down to whisper to his son. "Warm up band. They get the crowd pumped up for the main group, but the tickets didn't say who this was."

Tate smiled knowingly at his father, but didn't say a word.

The audience hushed, and a woman walked out to the center stage.

"Good evening," she said into the microphone, the amplified words loud and crisp. "Welcome. My name is Abigail Jade Michaelson, and we are Velvet Dreams!"

As the band launched into a song, Joshua could only stare at the beautiful woman in the off-the-shoulder, ruby red dress.

* * *

The band finished the song, Linda thanked everyone for coming, and the players disappeared from the stage. The audience had been on their feet through the last three songs and continued to roar their approval.

Joshua turned to Tate to tell him the concert wasn't over.

"Oh, I know that, Dad," Tate told him. "It's not over until they play Slyly."

* * *

"Did he come?" Abby asked Kevin.

In answer, Kevin held up two unused tickets. "I'm sorry, Abby," he told her.

Abby's lips grew tight for a moment, then she shook herself off. "So be it." She looked around. "Let's go finish this."

"You up to this?" Linda asked her. "I mean, I'm cool. It's totally your song, and I feel funny singing it, but if you want me to..."

Abby hugged her friend. "Thanks, Linda, but I have to do this."

One by one, the band members returned to the stage. When Abby appeared, the stage lights dimmed noticeably, and a spotlight centered on her. She walked to center stage, quietly picked up her guitar, and settled it into place around her neck.

She stepped up to the microphone, and gestured. The crowd obediently sat down, and Abby began to speak. "Thank you. You've been a wonderful audience, and it truly warms my heart."

Without another word, she struck a chord on her guitar. Immediately, the rest of the band joined in, and they began the first of a three-song series in which Abby and Linda traded off the singing equally.

* * *

Joshua watched and listened as the group played a well-rehearsed encore. By the end of the third song, the crowd was back on its feet, many of them dancing or just swaying to the music. The song ended in a crashing cresendo, and the crowd roared its approval for both singers.

Joshua watched as Linda and Abigail both took bows, then watched Abby walk around the stage, hugging each of the band members. She ended with a fierce hug for Linda, then returned to center stage.

"Thank you," she said, and the audience grew quiet again.

"We have one more song for you," she told them. "This is a very special song for me. It was written by a friend who I miss terribly."

As the song ended, Joshua blinked the tears from his eyes, then joined the audience in their applause.

"Come on, Dad!" Tate was tugging on his father's arm. "We wanna get in line for autographs."

"Autographs? They don't do that at rock concerts," Joshua replied.

"They do here," Tate said. "Come on!"

* * *

Abigail looked at the newest fan standing across the table from her, looking at a young goth girl. The girl handed Abby the band's latest CD.

"Hi, hun," Abby said. "What's your name?"

"Cyn," said the girl, spelling it. "Is Linda really leaving the band?"

"She's going to be a mommy, but I think we might be able to get her to attend special events and maybe help out on a few songs for the next album."

Abby signed the CD sleeve. "To Cyn -- We appreciate your support. Go, grrl! Abby M."

Abby showed the girl what she had written, to which Cyn said, "Cool." Abby handed the girl the CD case, shook her hand, then smiled at the next person in line.

"How you holding up?" Kevin whispered in her ear.

"Fine," she said quietly to Kevin while signing a concert program book. "How does the line look?"

"Maybe another hour," Kevin said. "Linda's line is nearly as long as yours, and about every third person leaves one line to go stand in another."

Some time later, Abby looked to the next person in her line, seeing a young teenage boy holding a CD case and concert program.

Abby smiled, and the boy smiled back. "What's your name, kiddo?"

"Tate," the boy said, handing Abby the program. "Tate James."

Abby stared at him for a moment, caught by his name. "James?" she asked.

The boy nodded, watching her closely. Abby bent to the program and started writing. "Did you like the concert, Tate?"

"It was great," the boy responded enthusiastically. "My dad liked it, too, especially the last song."

Abby glanced sharply at the boy for a moment, saw him looking expectantly, then bent back to the program and finished signing it. She slid it across the table to the boy and gestured at the CD case. "Would you like me to sign the cover?"

The boy handed Abby the CD case. "This is for my dad, Ms. Michaelson," the boy told her.

"Oh, hey, call me Abby," she told him. "We're all friends here. What's your dad's name?"

Abby looked at the boy, her pen poised. He was returning her gaze calmly before speaking. "Joshua," he finally told her, watching for a reaction.

Abby just stared at the boy.

"You're WordSmith, aren't you." It wasn't even a question.

Dumbstruck, Abby could do nothing but nod.

"That is so cool!" declared the boy.

"You're Robber's boy?" Abby finally asked, still disbelieving.

Tate nodded at her, smiling. Then his smile faded. "You and my dad had a fight, didn't you?"

"Yeah, we did," Abby told him, beginning to recover some of her control. "He never told me about you."

"I know," Tate told her. "He was afraid."

Abby turned around and gestured Kevin over. "You said the tickets went unused."

"They did, and no phone calls."

"Tate," said Abigail formally. "This is Kevin Forester, my manager. Kevin, this is Tate James." She paused. "Tate's father wrote Slyly," she added pointedly.

"I see," Kevin said in acknowledgement.

"That is so cool!" Tate said again. "That's why he's so hung up over that song."

Abby suddenly realized she was talking to a young teenager. "Tate, did you come alone?"

"No," he said. "Dad brought me."

Abby looked around. "Where is he?"

"He said he was too old to be a groupie and that he'd wait for me by the exit. Do you want me to go get him?"

Abby looked down at the table, tears suddenly collecting in her eyes. "No," she said after a moment. "He ignored my messages today. He doesn't want to see me."

Tate peered at her, leaning across the table a little to look closely. "You left messages? Email? When?"

"This afternoon, but on the phone. I know, last minute and all that. He probably wasn't very impressed."

"We've been gone all day," Tate said simply.

Abby looked up. "What?"

"We've been gone all day," Tate repeated. "And Dad didn't collect the messages. It's Saturday, so he didn't worry about any clients calling. Auntie Liz knows his cell phone if she needed to reach him. If you left messages this afternoon, he hasn't heard them."

"He hasn't heard my messages? You're sure?"

"I'm sure. You want me to go get him?"

Abby looked at the line of people standing behind Tate, some of them looking impatient, probably wondering why this young boy was getting so much of her time. Then she looked at Kevin helplessly.

"Go," he told her. "I'll take care of this."

Abby looked at Tate. "Will you take me to your father, Tate?"

In response, Tate grinned and nodded. Abby got up quickly, walked around the table, and reached for Tate's hand. Tate gave her a funny look.

"Please, Tate. There's a lot of people here, and I don't want to lose you in the crowd."

Tate blushed, but took her hand. Abby gave his hand a warm squeeze and offered a friendly smile. Tate smiled back, then began leading the way through the dwindling crowd to the front doors of the theater. The crowd, seeing who was in their midst, respectfully cleared a path for her.

* * *

Joshua stood near the front doors of the theater, waiting for Tate, staring out the doors into space, not seeing anything, lost in thoughts.

* * *

The crowd in the theater foyer was much thinner. Abby noticed a man standing near the doors, looking out at the street beyond. She looked at Tate, who nodded at her.

Abby looked around and spotted a booth still selling tee shirts and other souvenirs. She dragged Tate over and spoke to the girl manning the booth.

"I'm Abby," she said, extending a hand. The girl took it dumbly, nodding. "This is Tate," Abby said, pulling him forward. "He's going to help you for a few minutes." She looked at Tate to judge his reaction.

"This is so cool!" he said. "Does that mean I get an employee discount?"

Abby looked at him sharply, not sure what to say, then noticed he was grinning. "How about a hug?"

"Hmm. Can I tell my friends about meeting you?"

Abby nodded. "Of course." She paused. "But Tate, that name you called me earlier..."

"No problem," said Tate. "Mum's the word." He smiled expansively.

Abby gave him a warm hug, then watched as he went around the back of the booth and joined the girl running it.

"Thank you," Abby told her, turning away before the girl could respond.

* * *

Joshua, lost in thought, didn't notice when the crowd near the doors stopped moving, didn't notice as everyone stopped to watch a tall, attractive woman approach the doors.

But he did notice when the background noise died down as everyone stopped talking. He broke out of his reverie and looked around.

His heart caught in his throat.

"Hello, Joshua."

"Hello, Abigail."

Neither of them smiled, but Abby stepped closer to him.

"You have your cell phone?"

Joshua nodded, pulling it out of his pocket and handing it to her.

"Can you collect your voice messages from home on it?"

"Yes."

Abby glanced at the phone, then handed it back to him. "Would you, please?"

Joshua stared at her for a moment.

"Please, Joshua," she repeated.

Joshua nodded mutely, then pressed a few buttons on the phone, bringing it to his ear. He watched Abby as the messages played, his expression growing sadder as the messages wore on. Everyone in the theater entrance watched on silently.

Finally, Joshua pressed the End button, terminating the phone call, and looked at Abby for a moment before speaking.

"I kept a few secrets, too," he said.

"I know," Abby replied. "I met one of them. He's a good kid."

"He has a younger sister."

Abby nodded. "And their mother?"

"Like I told you," Joshua said. "She's... gone."

Abby just nodded, waiting for Joshua to say something further. He just stared at her, and finally she dropped her gaze.

"I'm sorry, Joshua," she said quietly. "I'll send Tate over." She started to turn away.

"Abigail..."

Abby froze, half turned away.

Joshua spoke quietly. "What are you doing for Thanksgiving?"