See Part One for Disclaimers

The house was empty when he got back.  Empty of Libby's presence.  He found he missed it.  There was a warmth that seemed to come and go with her.  Her sketch book sat on the table.  He opened it.  The sketch of Ski in full Viking outfit with a beer horn in one hand and a faceless wench in the other made him smile.  A second sketch disturbed him.  Again, he was in the bottom half of a traditional ninja assassin's garb, a sword held at the ready.  This time Ski was in the same picture, guns blazing.  In the background was a shadowy dragon form, the eyes ablaze with -- with what?

He turned the page.  Another sketch, less disturbing, just his face, concentrating on structure.  Then the sketches of Aki.  Those almost hurt, they were so accurate.  Three sheets fell out of the book.  He picked them up and looked on the face of a youth with almond eyes.  Not Japanese.  His features were too strongly delineated for that, the bone structure too heavy.  He compared the sketches with those of himself and Aki.  Yes.  He could see this.  He could see both of them in this face.

There was a note on the back of one of the sketches.   "I think this one's the most reasonable.  Skin tones probably darker than Aki, but not very dark.  Neither of you is particularly deep colored.  Not Polynesian.  Well, possible, anything is possible, but not probable."

A while later, as he sat in meditation, he heard her come across the grass, stop at the edge of his platform, and then step up onto it.  She knelt behind him and leaned until she almost touched his shoulder with her chin.  "Busy?"

How did he answer that?  Meditation was the art of not being busy.

"Join you?"  She sat down, swinging her legs to one side of him, and putting her arms around him.  She was warm against him.  She rested the side of her face against his shoulder.  Silence.

They sat companionably for a while, Jonathan letting his mind wander, Libby watching the sky, the water and listening to him breathe.  She chuckled.  She moved her head until her breath tickled his ear.  "I love you."

"What?"

"I love you.  Thought I should tell you."  She settled against him again as though it were natural.

He felt warm.  He rested his arms over hers, holding her.  Then he turned and slid his arms around her, pulling her onto his lap.  He gazed into her eyes and wondered at what he saw there.  If the tight hug surprised her, she didn't show it.  "Hey.  Tall, dark and half naked guy, it's OK."

He laughed at that.  "Yes.  It is.  I love you."

Such simple words.  Such world changing words.  They kissed.  The sun sank below the horizon.  Ski barged into the house, took a look at the two on the meditation platform and did his best to unobtrusively leave again.  They let him go, knowing he would be back.  They made love like there was no tomorrow and forever was theirs.

Ski helped move her things into Jonathan's house.  Except for the studio.  "Hey, when I work, I work.  You don't want to get involved.  Trust me," she had explained with a laugh, and a kiss.

Acceptance.  Maybe that was it.  Libby asked questions, but her judgments were outside the ones he expected.  Slowly, he told her about himself.  Her laughter surprised him.  She reminded him that she had classed both he and Ski as "dangerous men" early on.  Even his darkness was acceptable.  The ache for Aki softened, faded.

"Marry me."

"What?"

"Marry me."  The words he had never said to Aki, had never had the chance to say.

Libby looked at him in wonder for a moment.  "You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

"I love you, Jonathan Raven!" she had told him, and accepted with a kiss that rapidly bore them off into other realms.

Ski had not been surprised when Jonathan told him of his plans to wed.  "About time," he told his friend.

"Am I the only one who didn't know?" Jonathan asked with a laugh.

Ski regarded him seriously.  "You knew.  You just took time to make certain.  So, when?"

"A couple of months.  Libby has a meeting in New York in two weeks and she wants to bring her cousins out to meet me."

"Cousins?"

"Yes.  The only family she has, apparently.  Harve and Kelly."

"Hey, you think Kelly's like her cousin?"

"Ski!"

"Just askin'."




Libby called her cousins to tell them the news.  "Harve!  How are you?  Good.  I've got some news.  -- What?  No, the deal didn't fall through, you fink.  -- I want you and Kelly to come for a visit.--- I'm not coming back.  -- It's OK, I'm getting married.  -- Yes.  Married.  -- I guess I finally found the right guy.  -- You will?  And Kelly?  I want her here, too.  -- I think you'll like him."  She turned to looked at Jonathan who was running through a blindfolded kata in the back yard.  "Tall, long hair, tattoos, likes to hang out half dressed," she described him with a laugh.  "He's very nice, not an artist, has his own money.  And I love him."  The last was said with quiet conviction.  Harve seemed pleased with the announcement.  "Then you'll come back with me from New York?"

Of course, they would.  The trip would do Kelly good.  Maybe Hawaii would encourage her to get out of herself and back to living again.

"Are they coming?"

"Yep.  Good thing we held onto the house next door, huh?"

"Yes.  But they might like some furniture."

Libby laughed at that.  "You and Ski take care of it?  I have to finish packing up the canvasses and get them shipped out."

"We'll take care of it."

The next few days were busy.  Delivery vans blocked the street delivering furniture and carting away the canvases.  Ski came up with another lead on Jonathan's son, which he disappeared to follow up on, while Jonathan and Libby filled their spare minutes with each other.

Toby, in the interests of giving his client and her fiancée as much time together as possible, chartered a small plane to ferry the two of them to the mainland, there to transfer to the more convenient across country flights run by the major airlines.  He made certain she got packed for the trip and that she and Jonathan were on the way to the airport in plenty of time before the flight was due to take off.

"Are you sure you don't want to come?" Toby asked again, watching the two of them together.  The romantic in his soul seemed to have awakened and he really felt bad parting the two of them for something so mundane as a contract signing.

"Yes," Jonathan assured him with a laugh.  "I am certain.  Someone has to make sure Ski stays out of trouble."

Libby laughed.  "And just in case he's successful," she added softly.

Jonathan felt as though his heart was going to overflow.  He walked her to the plane, kissed her one last time, and was surprised when she suddenly caught both his hands in hers, a very serious look on her face.

"What?"

"Jonathan.  I love you.  No matter what or where or when, I will always love you."

There was something almost desperate in her voice, in her eyes.  He pulled her into his arms and hugged her.  "I know," he whispered into the soft curls at the top of her head.  "I know."  He let her go.  "And I love you."

She gave him her sunny smile and dashed up the steps into the plane.  He stepped back, the airport personnel removing the steps, the steward closing the door on the side of the plane.  He could see her at the window, smiling and waving at him.  He waved back.  He moved out of the way as the small jet started its engines and rolled off down the runway.

He watched as it moved into the traffic pattern, the jet engines revving up, the turbines whining higher and higher as the plane got ready to move out.  It pulled onto the runway and began rolling.  It lifted off the concrete, the wheels pulled up and the plane vanished in a fireball.  The explosion rocked the hangar behind him and nearly threw him to the ground.  Flaming debris rained out of the sky.

Ski, having lost another promising lead, was flipping radio stations when he heard the broadcast.  A small jet plane had exploded just over the runway at Honolulu International.  A great Arctic horned owl seemed to suddenly flutter into being in his belly.  "Jonathan," he said to himself as he pulled a u-turn and headed for the airport.

He found his friend sitting next to the empty hangar, his eyes fixed on the horizon where his life had vanished.  He cussed to himself and walked over to where the younger man sat, his dark eyes empty of all life.  "Jonathan?" he addressed him quietly, warily.

The younger man looked up.  It took a moment for him to recognize his friend.  "Ski."  His voice was dull, lifeless.

Ski squatted down next to him.  "What happened?"

"The plane exploded."

"Libby."

A wordless nod.

"Damn.  Come on."  He stood up and held a hand out to his friend.

Jonathan stared at it for a moment, then accepted the proffered help up.  Ski felt a tremor go through the man as he let go.  He frowned.  He put a hand on the other man's shoulder, for comfort, for re assurance.  He almost expected Jonathan to shrug it off.  Another tremor.  Damn, he was wound tight over this.  Of course, he was.

"Let's get out of here.  Nothin' we can do right now."  But the implication was that there would be something they could do later.  Jonathan followed him, moving like a shadow.

Ski was not happy when he heard through certain channels of his own that the plane had been carrying a bomb.  There was evidence in the wreckage that the explosion was deliberate.  He set out to find out who and why.  For once, he kept the knowledge to himself.  He was keeping an eye on Jonathan.  The younger man seemed to have picked up his life and gone on.  The portrait Libby had painted, that had brought them together, was framed and hung on the wall.  He worked out, as he always had.  He meditated to find focus and center.  He continued the search for his son, keeping in mind the sketches Libby had drawn.  He found things to keep him busy.  And only once in a while did Ski surprise that awful hollow, dead look in his eyes.

A month after the explosion, when the theories of terrorism and pilot error had died down, Jonathan received a letter from an attorney.  He opened it, read the letter within and set it aside.  Ski found it, and curious, read the letter also.

"Mr. Raven:

There will be a reading of the Last Will and Testament of Elizabeth Harris at 10:00 am on the 24th.  Please arrange to be present.

Sincerely,

Blah, blah, blah."

"Jonathan."

"Yes, Ski."  He wondered why he had left the envelope there.  He knew Ski would never resist the urge to look at it.

"You goin' to this will readin'?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Why should I?"  He wondered why his hands would not remain steady as he tended to his orchids.

"I dunno.  Just seems if she wanted you there, you might wanta go."

"Ski --" He caught the dangerous note in his own voice.  His eyes flickered to the older man and away.  How could he tell Ski that the thought of listening to Libby's will was like being skewered with flaming metal?  How could he admit that he feared he would lose the control he was barely holding, that he would go plunging into the black vortex that threatened to swallow him?

"I'll go."

"No."

"Then you go."

How do you reach out to a man who isn't willing to let you reach out to him?  Jonathan Raven was capable of helping, comforting, even healing where it was needed.  But he could not reach out himself.  His control was rigid.  The black misery in his eyes tore at Ski.  First Aki and his son, now this.  And nothing either of them could do, or could have done to help.  Ski felt old.  Jonathan could see the defeated look in his friend's face.  And that hurt him almost as much as Libby's death had.  Hot anger coursed through him.  He wanted to destroy someone, something for inflicting that hurt.

"I will."  His voice was a whisper, a hollow, hurt whisper.




The lawyer's office was like all successful lawyer's offices, full of the scents of money, leather, paper and power.  The lawyer was a man of middle years and success.  Jonathan Raven was something of a surprise to him.  His client had only mentioned that she was engaged to be married and needed to change her will to reflect her expected change in marital status.  She had been so alive, so full of laughter.  The cousins were difficult to assess.  The woman was shrouded in a black silk scarf, black gloves on her slender hands to match the black silk suit she wore.  Sunglasses hid half of the face that wasn't behind the scarf.  Her mouth was thin lipped and narrow.  Her brother was tall, heavily muscled, almost overpoweringly self confident in the manner of men of money and physical prowess.

Harve and Jonathan shook hands.  The bluff smile didn't reach the cold blue eyes in the tanned face.  If Jonathan was surprised to find his hand caught in a hard clasp, he didn't show it, merely gave as firm a grasp as he got.  He shot a glance at the retiring figure of the woman.  It was hard to see a family resemblance there.  Or in the man.

The will was a surprise.  The lawyer handed Jonathan a sealed envelope.  A private message from his client, to be shared at the receiver's discretion.  He pocketed the envelope and sat back to listen.  Libby had left the property adjoining his to Jonathan and Kelly, jointly.  Harvey seemed less than pleased with this pronouncement, but patted his sister's gloved hand reassuringly.

She left her bank account and investments to Jonathan, specifically for the joint support of himself and his son when necessary.  He wondered distantly if she had any idea just how that bequest would affect him.  She left six specific paintings to Jonathan, including the "dragon" portrait.  The rest, and the income derived from the contracts she had fulfilled, to go to her cousin Harve to do with as he pleased.  And that, was that.

The lawyer left them alone for a few moments after he finished.  Jonathan was, stunned, bewildered and bemused.  He looked around at his co-inheritor.  The woman was apparently shy to the point of incapacity.

"Well, you certainly seem to have been very much in Libby's heart when she wrote her will," Harve broke the silence.  He almost shied back from the black look in Jonathan's eyes.

"I'm sorry if it shocks you.  I love your -- cousin very much."

Kelly looked up from her contemplation of the floor.  So much pain.  He hurt so much she could almost feel it.  She wanted to make it easier for him.

"Yes, I'm sure you did."  Harve's response was pure venom.  Warning bells went off in Jonathan's head.  He really looked at the man and woman.  Something was wrong here.  Something was very wrong.  "Kelly."  Harve got to his feet, ready to leave the room.

"But --"

He turned toward her.  "It's been very hard on you, I know," he said solicitously.  "Just leave everything to me."  He held out a hand to her.

She took it and allowed her own hand to be drawn through his arm to escort her out of the room.  He handed Jonathan a business card as they walked out.  "Just have your lawyer contact mine.  We'll get the house settled out and be out of your hair."

Jonathan stood, looking at the card in his hand.  There was a hard look on his face when he looked up again, a look that surprised the lawyer coming back into the room.

"Ah, Mr. Raven.  I didn't know you were still here," the man faltered.

The look softened.  "It's all right.  Had you known Libby long?"

"Miss Harris?  No.  She'd been in once before to review some contracts and to deposit her file with us.  She seemed to feel that it was important to keep some items with a local firm."

Jonathan nodded and turned to go.

The lawyer seemed to come to a decision.  "Mr. Raven."

"Yes?"

"She seemed very -- adamant?  -- that you and Miss Cheyne should deal with the house."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I may be stepping out of line here, but she seemed -- very concerned that Miss Cheyne not have her brother's intervention."

Jonathan regarded the man curiously.  "And why would that be?"

The man seemed flustered.  "I'm not certain.  But she was -- a bit scathing in her remarks about Mr. Cheyne."

"Scathing?"

"Yes.  She seemed to think he would not allow Miss Cheyne to make her own decisions about her bequest if there was not some -- interference?"

Jonathan regarded him steadily.  Libby had dropped a very few comments about her cousins.  She had been fond of Kelly and had said very little about Harve.  It was beginning to look as though there were some solid reasons for dispensing with Harve.

The lawyer cleared his throat and cleaned his glasses.  "Mr. Raven, if you won't take it amiss, my condolences on your loss.  I did not know her well, but she seemed both kind and considerate when she was here.  Not something you run into a lot in my business."

The younger man's face softened.  A faint smile played around his lips.  "Thank you.  She was not someone you ran into every day."

He went home, considering what he had seen and what he was reading between the lines.  It was really no concern of his if Libby's cousin was taken care of, even obnoxiously, by her brother.  Her bequests to him were a surprise, and he would honor them.  If he ever found his son, Libby's money would provide a safety net for them.  If --

He took off his suit jacket and hung it up, his hand brushing against the pocket where Libby's letter was.  He pulled the envelope out of the jacket and looked at it.  Letters from dead lovers.  He swallowed hard.  What would this one tell him?  He went out into the living area and sat down.  He turned the envelope over twice before he opened it and pulled out the single sheet within.

"Jonathan,

I hope this paper is yellow with age and nearly undecipherable.  I hope that we have a long and wondrous life together.  I need you to remember, I love you.  Now, forever, beyond the gate that stands between this life and whatever lies beyond, I love you.

We have been together before, we will meet again.  I'm not a big believer in much beyond what I can see, feel, touch, -- ok, basics.  But I knew you when I saw you.  I knew that you were a part of who I have been, that you were a part of who I am.  You are the peace of my soul.  You slide within my space and are comfortable.  I cannot imagine life not knowing you are there, although I spent so much until now without that knowledge.

I love you.  I love the son you haven't met yet.  And if you are reading this, regardless of its age, I will be there when you come through the gate.

Libby"

"And I love you, Libby," he whispered in the silence, tears streaming down his face to splotch on the paper of her letter.

fin

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