I turned, heart still racing, to see a woman there. I’m not sure who was more startled though, as she obviously wasn’t expecting me. We laughed a ...it with nervousness and I only had to gesture to the weather for understanding to dawn on her face. It was a lovely face, a lived-in face with a peaches and cream type complexion with dark hair, a nice contrast. She was younger than me, I’m 51, and I’d guess she was in her forties. She was a bit taller too, but not too much more than my five foot. "Oh, God!" I moaned as pain shot through me."Tony are you okay?" The voice of an angel. Tami's voice."Not sure. What year is it?" What year?" Are you my wife?" Tony, we're fourteen." There are states where that is legal." He's okay," said another voice. I decided that it was my maternal unit, code-named Mom.I decided to try opening my eyes again.I opened them just a little, and they still burned. I closed them and blinked hard, trying to liquefy them. No, not liquify; moisten. Why was it so. Janet's voice betrayed only the faintest hint of an accent but she was a Southern woman, born and reared well below the Mason-Dixon before her marriage had brought her permanently north. She liked to talk and joke about sex with her girlfriends but deep down inside she still had some Victorian attitudes towards the whole subject, which had created some major conflicts for her over the years and was making her particularly miserable now.Janet had been raised conservatively but she was very, very. "May I help you?" She didn't recognize the smartly dressed and trim Hispanic woman in her mid-thirties, but could tell she was neither a religious crusader nor a sales person hawking goods. The Ferragamo shoes were a tip-off."My name is Willow Mendez. I used to work for The Courier, and I wanted to just speak with Matt Saddler and Nathan Pocher, if they still live here. I won't be long, and I promise that nothing bad will happen as a result of this visit. I met them a year ago, and just needed.