Before I Sleep

By Janet Doringer

If you believe in destiny, Jillian's journey began hundreds of years ago. For her, however, the journey from human to what she has become today (so much more than a vampire) began when she wrote ‘the book'; and it became the adventure that is her life only just a moment ago, that day at her grandson’s campus… So begins Jillian’s extraordinary journey into the perilous world of immortals, and her ultimate unique transformation. A secret world she unwittingly turns on its axis becomes the doorway to her family’s legacy – a legacy she didn’t know existed until now, and changes her forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Mar 6, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483521152

Book preview

Frost

CHAPTER ONE

Visiting my grandson at college is always a joy, but particularly so when my entire family makes the trip. Not so much for my children (they’ve spent most of their lives in California), but for me there’s a certain level of comfort in being here because it reminds me of home. And you know what they say (whoever ‘they’ is – I have yet to figure it out), ‘you can take the girl out of New England, but you can’t take New England out of the girl’. This may not be my beloved Salem, Massachusetts or the coast of New Hampshire or Maine, but it’s as close as one gets on the West Coast. And it is a glorious day in this Northern California town – quite literally the northernmost part of California - where the coastline is rugged and the air sparkles with light. Today the air is exceptionally crisp and clear, the smell of the ocean intoxicating - a perfect day for spending time with my family. And oh what a day it is. We are blissfully unaware of our observers and their questionable intentions as they wait in the nearby forest. It would never occur to any of us we’re being watched. Why would anyone be remotely interested in how I and my family spend our time? It’s not at all compelling. At least, I don’t think so. Apparently, someone disagrees.

The two men - one slight, of average height with fine blonde hair, the other tall and slender with a mass of black hair – stand still as statues just inside the heavily wooded area on the perimeter of the baseball field. They watch, observing the behavior of one woman in particular. That would be me, Jillian. I’m apparently of intense interest to them. Let’s see, an average gal, albeit a moderately successful writer – enjoying a beautiful afternoon with her family. Fascinating, right? Bah! Of course, I’m not aware until much later of the fact-finding mission these men are conducting.

My daughter Lila and her family look on as my son Jack, my granddaughter Layla and I, along with a few brave souls (presumably volunteers from Tuck’s frat house), prepare to do battle with my grandson and his team. OK Tuck, I’m ready for you! I dig my feet in, raise my bat and assume the position at home plate. Do you need a pinch runner, Gram? Tuck asks in a good natured shout. He would never joke about my need for a pinch hitter. He knows better. I yell back, Very funny – not on your life kid. Didn’t anyone tell you? Your grandmother attended college on an athletic scholarship! Now, show me what you got! I’m in my element and with my favorite people in the world, my family. Life doesn’t get much better – at least not for me.

The crack of the bat hitting the ball resonates through the field and into the woods. Good hit. The blonde man chuckles softly. Look at her run – like a kid. says the other man. Impressive. He comments as he watches her run a triple. But still, why are we watching this woman play softball with her family? What is it you think this will accomplish Alex? Daniel, the dark haired man, is becoming frustrated. He doesn’t see the point.

Alex takes a deep breath and exhales a long, exaggerated sigh, for effect really. At this point it’s not about what she can do... it’s about what she knows. We must continue to observe this woman’s daily activity and dig deeper into her life. That is, of course, unless we just kill her and be done with it.

Daniel wonders if his brother is baiting him... but why? That would solve our immediate problem, but think brother, would the repercussions be worth it? Besides, we do not kill humans unless there is no alternative. Daniel stands motionless, contemplating the situation, feeling drawn to this woman in a way he neither cares for, nor wants to share with his older brother. If you think it’s necessary, fine. I’ll do it. But I don’t have to like it, he thinks to himself. Alex smiles coldly. "No, you’re right.

We have no cause to end her life. It makes sense, however, for you to observe her since you have a place in Colorado and she has a book signing scheduled there in a few weeks."

This is an inconvenience, at best, but I’ll do it! Daniel growls. Wait – she’s coming this way. The two men move so swiftly and silently deeper into the woods, if someone was watching it would appear they simply vanished. But they’re still there, still listening, still watching intently.

I follow behind Lila as she stalks off toward the woods, my pace almost a run in an attempt to keep up. My daughter is clearly agitated with me, a condition which is becoming more frequent these days. She reaches the edge of the woods, spins around angrily and plops down on a moss covered log. She’ll blame me later for her sodden bottom. Mother, for God’s sake, will you stop trying to keep up with your grandkids! This is obviously a statement, not a question. You’re going to injure yourself, or worse, have a heart attack.

Oh please, I’m fine – stop hovering! I exclaim. Jeesh, she must know she’s making me feel aged, which is the basis for our contentious exchange to begin with.

Lila’s teeth are clenched as she speaks – not very attractive, I must say. I don’t understand this obsession you seem to have with your age, not to mention your crazy, unrealistic ‘fitness program’. Frankly mother, it’s ridiculous and I’m getting worn out trying to keep up.

Then don’t. I shake my head. Do you hear yourself Lila? If you can’t keep up, maybe you should consider your own lifestyle and stop worrying about mine. I’m happy with my life. (Or reasonably happy, in all honesty, but would never admit this qualification to my daughter.)

I must have hit a nerve. Lila glares as she says, "Well, something is missing judging by your desperate behavior. And my life is just fine, thank you." Hitting below the belt – now who’s desperate?

I detest these exchanges with my daughter. My son doesn’t behave this way. Thank goodness! Lila loves me, of this I’m sure, but she doesn’t understand my life choices. Admittedly, some of those choices were a bit extreme, and as it turns out ill-conceived, but hopefully I’m able to share some insight.

Lila, my love, Knowing my daughter, an attempt at cozying up could fall a little short, but I try anyway. "I understand how you could perceive my behavior as excessive, but please try to see things from my perspective. Caring for your grandfather, watching him deteriorate day by day, was a sadly enlightening experience. It forever altered my perception of life and death in a way that’s difficult to explain, or probably to understand, unless you’ve experienced it. Watching Lila’s reaction; watching her gaze into the woods, I realize she doesn’t really get it. I’m failing miserably to convey what’s in my heart, but this is important, so I soldier on. I see the value of this life – of the time we have – in a new light and want to make the most of it. I don’t want to waste a minute. More importantly, I want to make up for the time I have wasted – for the time I used poorly. Can you understand?"

All I see, Mom, is a woman desperate to stay young – or to regain her youth in some way. It makes me think you resent the time spent raising us kids; like you wish you could have done things differently.

My heart is breaking. Now I am desperate, but not in the way Lila thinks. I’m desperate to convey my true feelings. You couldn’t be more wrong and I’m so sorry you misunderstand. Please know I cherish that part of my life, as I cherish my family now, and allow me the opportunity to explain it differently. Here goes... I came to self-awareness so late in life I want a do-over. I hesitate because what I’ve said is not exactly true, and the hurt in my daughter’s eyes is painful to witness. This is far more difficult than I would have imagined. No, that’s not right. I don’t want a do-over because it would change who I am, and ultimately who you turned out to be. Perish the thought. A smile, thank the gods! "What I really want is an extension; time to accomplish all the things I’ve not yet done and time to grow into my full potential. Can you relate, maybe a little? I don’t wait for her answer. Part of me hopes you can’t because I’ve helped provide you with the opportunity to focus on finding and developing you at least as much as you focus on everyone else in your life; something for which I didn’t have the insight or the outside influence."

You have Mom, and I love you for it. There’s resignation in her voice, if only for the moment.

I smile and hug my daughter... I love you too - truce then? This is neither the time nor the place, so we both reluctantly surrender and table this immensely complex issue for now. We’ll rejoin our family and enjoy the rest of the day. Love conquers all, at least temporarily.

What are you thinking brother? Alex asks so softly only his brother Daniel can hear. Nothing I can share with you, Daniel thinks, but his face remains unmoved. It seems they have a great deal to work through. He mumbles.

Hmmm, complex relationship – complex woman, whispers Alex. Good luck, and keep a close watch. I’m still not convinced she has no real knowledge of our kind.

Daniel just nods, unwilling to share his thoughts yet again. He knew this was going to be complicated. This woman is special in a way I can’t even fathom yet, he thinks. Be careful...

Alex speaks quietly, interrupting Daniel’s contemplations. We’re done here, don’t you agree?

I do. Shall we? Daniel responds as he deftly leads the way deeper into the forest, making a circuitous route to their vehicle on the other side of the woods.

CHAPTER TWO

As I sit in my hotel room marveling at the beauty and sheer enormity of the Rocky Mountains, it’s hard to believe I’m actually here. Of course, I’m effectively ignoring the fact it took being roped into this book signing gig to get me here. Ugh. Oh well, it’s not like my social calendar is full. Besides, the digs are upscale - a suite in a five star hotel with a great pool. (I’ll get my daily laps in anyway.) All sarcasm aside – which is nearly impossible for me – I marvel at the idea I’m here at all. How did this happen? Crazy ideas morphed into a book people actually have an interest in reading. After a lifetime as a working mom while raising a family virtually single-handedly (a far from easy life but one I wouldn’t trade for anything), I change careers on a whim, unleash my creative inner self, and write a book that becomes a best seller. Who knew! (There’s the sarcasm again).

A book signing is an infinitesimal price to pay for my current state of being. I like my life. I wish it reached this point a little earlier and with a little (or maybe a lot) less turmoil and drama, but then, if life was easy the book may not have been written - funny how that happens.

When I’m alone – a stranger in a strange land placing pictures of my loved ones around my hotel room for comfort and familiarity - more often than not I find myself remembering the most influential person in my life. A melancholic feeling washes over me as I reminisce... I miss her so much - my father’s sister – my beloved ‘Auntie’. Only recently have I come to realize the profound influence she had in shaping the person I’ve become, as well as my belief system and the basis for that belief system. I remember her with overpowering love, and a sense of awe which hasn’t diminished with age or time. She was timeless, ageless... but she left me too soon. A lovely, fiery woman of Mediterranean descent – she was of slight stature, with olive skin, black eyes and thick, wavy black hair. Amazingly, her hair never grayed. She was exotic. Sadly, not at all the way I look – too tall, large boned and athletic. No one would accuse me of looking exotic. More’s the pity. Oh well, at least I got the olive complexion.

The majority of my young and impressionable years were spent with her; I was a latchkey kid before they invented the term, grateful to have somewhere to go and someone to spend time with. Memory is such a prankster; if our relationship was anything less than magical, I don’t remember it that way. What I do remember is an intelligent, insightful and exciting woman. In spite of her lack of education, or maybe because of it, she believed in the possibility of all things. She was fearless, gifted and could sometimes see the future. I believed in her as a child, came to doubt her as an adult, and find I believe in her once again. I suppose I can thank her, at least in part, for my active imagination and my perceptions – my own enhanced insight. To be sure, her influence is reflected in the pages of my book.

It was my Auntie who relayed the story surrounding my birth – apparently a family secret because it was considered blasphemous (ridiculous!). I was born with a veil. So what. As the story goes (an old wives tale – one of many) if you’re born with the birth sac, the caul, intact, when the veil is lifted you have the sight – psychic powers of one kind or another. Honestly, I’ve always known there is infinitely more to this world than the eye can see – and I belong to the world visible when the virtual veil is lifted - but psychic... that may be a stretch.

I recall one of my most cherished childhood memories. My Auntie and I drinking Greek demitasse coffee at her kitchen table while she reads my future in the coffee grounds, tells me fantastical stories of mythical creatures, and teaches me the value of keeping my mind and heart open to all possibilities in life, rational or not. She would be considered supremely superstitious by present standards, and probably would have been burned in a pyre in days past. Banish the thought!

Her one constant, cautionary warning was to keep my beliefs, if they did not comply with the norm, a secret. I suppose it was for my own protection. Organized religion was big in our family. I guess I’ve thrown caution to the wind these days. Oh well, she’s not here to scold me now, is she. Hmm, I’ve reminisced enough for tonight. Good night Auntie... wherever you are...

I tell myself to get some rest, knowing it’s not always easy these days to summon the sleep fairy - inconvenient when I’m planning an early start in the morning. As I’m turning out the lights and closing the drapes, I take one last look at the majestic Rockies before climbing into bed. I’ll eventually fall asleep, but in the meantime will be giving thanks for my good fortune. My life may not be perfect (I’m thinking a Mr. Right would be nice. Time is passing quickly, I’m not getting any younger, and it does get lonely.), but all in all, I’m happy.

Be careful what you wish for Jillian. I had no idea the turn my life would soon take.

Oh my, it’s morning already. It must have been a busy night. Every muscle in my body is griping and I’m fraught with anxiety. Shit, I was dreaming again. This time my aunt was frantically attempting to make me understand something. Damn if I can remember what that something was. The dream, and resulting exhaustion laced with anxiety, will rule the day.

I’ve given myself a few weeks on this trip, with no commitments other than the book signing, so what the hell is my problem? A question for which I have absolutely no answer, but maybe swimming will burn off the nervous energy. The decision is made; I’m swimming 100 laps this morning!

I shut the door on my suite and suddenly realize it’s very early and I’m alone. A shiver rolls through my body and with it an overwhelming sense of apprehension. But is it apprehension or expectation? It could be a little of both. I can’t tell and if I keep this up I’ll just spook myself and go back inside. Though it has contributed to my success, sometimes having an overactive imagination can be problematic.

The air is cold, but the pool is heated, creating the mist billowing off the water. The surrounding mountains are extraordinarily beautiful and I’m grateful for the solitude. It seems I’m the only one crazy enough to be out this early and I love it. If only my thinking cap weren’t waterproof and had to be left behind while I swim... but alas, I can’t leave home without it.

My mind races in perfect sync with my strokes - typical. Lately, I cannot shake the feelings of expectation – of anticipation. These feelings are with me constantly – like butterflies in my stomach, and I’m unable to figure out why. Am I a lunatic? This is a distinct possibility. Regardless of my state of mind, I feel something coming. Oh well, probably just wishful thinking (because I AM certifiable). Still, why can’t I be satisfied with a relatively normal and uneventful life? I consider what my kids tell me; I attract drama into my life because I’m not happy without it. Maybe they’re right. Or maybe I just get bored easily. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. I feel what I feel. I’ll keep swimming and force my mind to think happy thoughts. Denial anyone?

Daniel stands at the window in his suite, watching Jillian swim. Nice form; she is athletic, he thinks, and attractive. Then wonders why he has an opinion at all. He doesn’t like it. It makes him uneasy.

His suite is one floor directly above Jillian’s, the best in the house. The manager is perplexed, thinking Daniel doesn’t need to stay at the hotel, but happy to have him as a guest nonetheless. His cabin in the nearby mountains is one of Daniel’s favorite residences, and only he knows the hotel suite is purely for convenience; to fulfill the need to remain close and observe while waiting for some indication his clandestine behavior is necessary. That damn book of hers, he growls to himself. It has to be a coincidence. She can’t know what the hell she’s stumbled into.

He’ll follow her at a distance today, though he thinks it an exercise in futility. Acknowledging the need to get closer, his anxiety increases at the likelihood this will require direct contact. As if this situation isn’t complicated enough.

Daniel decides then, his celebrity status is something he will have to take advantage of – a course of action he dislikes immensely – always, in a place deep down, regretting in some way, the decision he and his ‘family’ made to become public figures. What were they thinking? After years of their focused efforts to ‘blend in’ though, did they really have a choice? He thinks not. Life became so tedious – and tedium breeds mistakes. Besides, it’s such a simple thing to pass for human these days - and the decision to hide in plain sight was working just fine until she came along with that ridiculous book. Or, he admits grudgingly, not so ridiculous.

As he continues to watch Jillian swim, he speaks out loud to the only person in the room. Christ, what is wrong with me? The feeling of anxiety is unfamiliar and quite uncomfortable. This sucks – get a grip Daniel! He lapses into the vernacular. In 300 years he hasn’t had to cope with this particular set of emotions. It’s wholly unfamiliar. He’s unaware he is, after all this time, experiencing feelings which are distinctly human.

And so it begins...

CHAPTER THREE

Oh... life is good. Late afternoon and I’m back in my hotel suite relaxing - looking forward to dinner with my daughter. It turns out today was enjoyable, a blast actually – fun and productive! As is my habit when I’m visiting a new place, I arrive a few days early, rent a car and scope out the lay of the land. And in this case, I’ve given myself plenty of additional time to relax and enjoy my surroundings, knowing I would love it here – it’s paradise. Today I did a little sight-seeing, and purchased some local trinkets. I’m particularly pleased with the gift I found for Lila. Tomorrow I shop for the boys.

Okay, time to get ready for tonight.

My daughter knocks - right on cue - just as I’ve finished primping for the evening. She has a knack for arriving to every event, large or small, at the exact right moment – uncanny. Lila is a nurturer – my helicopter daughter – my hoverer. She never allows me to travel without dropping in for a day, ostensibly to see where I’m staying and because she misses me, but in reality to make sure I’m not getting into trouble. At least I know she’ll have a great bottle of wine to share with her mom.

Hello Angel. I look into Lila’s eyes and melt, always filled with pride and joy when I see her. I’m especially thrilled to present, with a flourish, the gift I purchased for her. An incredible find, it’s a beautifully hand crafted wooden heart pendant inlaid with turquoise. I discovered the necklace buried at the back of a display case in a local shop. She loves it as much as I hoped she would, which makes this the beginning of a wonderful night.

The morning light intrudes on my consciousness as I roll over to toss my blaring alarm across the room – which alarm happens to be my iPhone so I, thankfully, think twice – and the memory of last night emerges from the fog that is my mind. I’m smiling despite my burning desire to slaughter the alarm as I remember Lila arrived packing two great bottles of wine. We drank both bottles, of course, as a complement to our delicious dinner, and to toast her gift, but lo and behold, we didn’t stop there. Musings of my daughter cause me to laugh out loud - Lila never allows us to ‘stop there’. To say it was an entertaining evening would be an injustice. We drank too much; we danced too much (if that’s even possible) and had a great mother/daughter night out. She’s on a mission to sabotage my fitness program and doesn’t think I’m on to her. Silly girl – I’ll always be the mom who ‘gets it’. She should know better! Now, however, I must face the inevitable – the dreaded pool.

Daniel sits poolside, at a table where he places his props – a cup of coffee and cigarettes. He’s waiting for Jillian to arrive for her daily swim, still not sure how he’ll handle this premeditated ‘meet cute’. She’s late – he’s not surprised. Last evening was quite entertaining, as he recollects. Daniel chuckles to himself as Jillian wanders into his line of sight. She’s clearly not the energetic woman he’s been watching these past weeks, and particularly last night. Must be all the drinking and dancing late into the evening, he thinks as he stifles a grin. After all, she’s only human.

Oh crap, crap, crap - of all mornings to have an audience! I know it’s a free country and all, but crap! Of course, it has to be a male, but damn it, does he have to be prettier than me? Ugh! This morning is a fate accompli. I detest being hung over. Now, to add insult to injury, there’s a witness to my folly – and he’s smiling and nodding his head in a hello. Oh, what the hell. It shouldn’t matter anyway.

Lila, I’m going to throttle you! Not her fault. I have no one to blame but myself – I have no one to blame but myself. Yes Jilly; repeat your ‘morning after’ mantra as you struggle to swim with arms and legs made of lead. I feel absolutely decrepit, and to make matters worse, I’m inhaling second hand smoke. Great, I swim to stay healthy and fit (or to punish myself – depends on the day), only to be sabotaged by someone else’s bad habit. Why is he watching me? Why doesn’t he just go away? That’s it! I stop swimming and stand to face down this young man, about to demand he put his cigarette out, when I’m suddenly paralyzed by his exquisite beauty. How could I have missed it? He’s not just pretty; he’s dazzling - and young - very young. The old cliché, tall, dark and handsome comes to mind. Oh! I recognize him... of course... I know who he is. Actor; famous; hmm; none of which gives him the right to poison my air. I don’t care who he is! I’m incensed - full of righteous indignation, so don’t stop to wonder if there’s a ‘no smoking’ restriction in the pool area. It is outside, after all. I forge ahead – engaging my mouth first, true to form. Hey there, you know those things will kill you. His smile – I wish he wouldn’t do that. "More to the point though, your second hand smoke will kill me. And I’d like to live forever if you don’t mind." Why did I say that?

The young man’s smile broadens, if that’s even possible, but is accompanied by a puzzled expression. My apologies, I’ll extinguish the cigarette. I wouldn’t want to foil your plan to live forever. Though, admittedly, I find your statement rather odd.

Surprised by the musical tenor of his voice, it takes me a moment to recover. Ah, that’s me in a nutshell... odd. I can’t help but return this exquisite young man’s smile, even though I’m mortified by my appearance – goggles and all. You really should quit, you know. I’d hate to see you shorten your life with such a senseless habit. Not that I would see it, but you know what I mean. I’m such an idiot. He’s laughing and I don’t blame him.

"I’ll quit for you, if you ask me." Daniel says as he laughs – obviously laughing at me.

Right, well you should quit for yourself. He’s not taking me seriously. Why would he?

But I’d much rather quit for you. He actually looks sincere, but I should keep in mind he’s an actor. I’m sure he’s poking fun, though his expression gives me pause.

You’re joking, right? I ask hesitantly. He shakes his head no, with a very earnest look.

Okay then, would you please quit smoking - for me? I feel ridiculous, but whatever... maybe this is my good deed for today.

Yes absolutely. Daniel states in a most gracious manner as he picks up his pack of cigarettes, crushes it, and lobs it into the nearby trashcan. I’m impressed, but... Now you have to promise not to buy more.

I promise, but may I know the name of the woman for whom I’ve quit this nasty habit? He’s still poking fun.

Oh! Of course; my name is Jillian. I extend my wet hand to shake without thinking.

Hello Jillian. My name is Daniel. He reaches out to shake my hand (dazzling smile still intact) and I’m struck, once again, by his beauty, but also by the depth of what I believe is wisdom and perception in his eyes – far beyond his apparent years (just my intuition, but so strong I can’t ignore it). They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. If this is true, what an extraordinary soul he must have. He’s unnaturally compelling. So much so, I almost overlook his icy hand - almost.

It’s n-nice to meet you. I stutter. His effect on me is outrageous - electric. I’m uncontrollably drawn to him and it makes no sense. It’s embarrassing.

The pleasure is mine, I assure you. How is the water? He asks, suppressing laughter as he wipes his wet hand on his pants.

Oh, I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking!

No apology necessary. It’s just water. I can take it.

Um, the water is fine. Though I have to say, I don’t feel much like swimming now. Not that I did before. But I feel even less motivated now. Not your fault, of course. Sorry... I’m rambling. And I’m embarrassing myself again.

No, you’re not. Daniel stands upright abruptly. "Well, I’m sorry to have interrupted you and I apologize again for the second hand smoke. Please, enjoy your swim. He smiles tentatively this time, and says, Perhaps we’ll see each other again." He then turns and walks away, leaving his untouched cup of coffee behind.

I’m bewildered... this chance meeting was quite unusual. He is unusual; so still, so calm and self-contained, almost formal. Why doesn’t he strike me as the child he is? His eyes are very strange... multifaceted gold and amber - reminiscent of the color of orange blossom honey only with flecks of green. And his voice is sensual in a seemingly unintentional way. I’ll be thinking about this encounter for a while. Fodder for a story, maybe? Jilly, don’t let your imagination run away with you... (I’m always scolding myself these days). Oh, why not? Imagine is what I do, after all.

Standing in the swimming pool alone I order myself to continue, but no longer have any interest in swimming (if it was there to begin with). I have lots to think about though, which inspires the desire to write – like a burning from the inside out. I’m done here.

With minimal convincing I’m out of the water, wrapped in my robe and heading for my room. Jeez, it’s happening again – butterflies – a sense of expectation, and the feeling like someone is watching, but as I look around, I’m alone. Suddenly I remember my Auntie’s words in my dream, You have the gift Jilly. Lift the veil and you will see. Got to shake it off and harness my imagination before it gets the best of me.

Daniel secretly watches Jillian gather her things to leave the pool area and notices she’s quite pensive. As she looks around expectantly, he’s struck by how perceptive she is. He remains hidden, watching, and when the elevator doors close on her, makes his way to his room.

He stands, statuesque, in the middle of his suite, having no need to sit – ever. Nor does he need to try to remember. He has total recall, and is currently replaying every single word, expression and inflection of his exchange with Jillian – both his words and hers - ultimately conceding this meeting didn’t go quite as planned. He asks himself two difficult questions. First, how did the situation get away from him? And second, why did he bolt? He sighs and shakes his head, silently admonishing himself for his behavior.

Jillian’s witticism about living forever rattled me, he admits. There is the answer to my first question. He says aloud. Her perceptions - the way I imagine she chooses to look at life - are interesting, and somewhat unsettling, but not unexpected, truth be told. All one must do is read her book to see it; which is, of course, the reason I am here. So, why did I find her comment unsettling (And I’d like to live forever if you don’t mind.)? Perhaps because I cannot determine if it was another coincidence. Or is none of this coincidence?

The more Daniel thinks about Jillian, the more frustrated he becomes. Nevertheless, he continues to ponder the situation, and the fact the original problem remains – he still doesn’t know if she’s stumbling around unaware, or if she actually has knowledge of his kind. It is imperative he find out (whether he thinks it matters or not), now more than ever, because there’s one thing he is sure of - she has no malicious intent, and therefore cannot be harmed. Or is this merely an excuse? Is there something else happening?

Daniel gasps, as he has an epiphany – a realization... I am violently opposed to harming this woman in any event. She is... important. Ah, the answer to my second question – the reason I ran. I knew this was going to be complicated.

As Daniel painstakingly relives his and Jillian’s encounter - every action and reaction – he’s at a distinct disadvantage. He doesn’t recognize his responses for what they are – human emotions. He has yet to realize what he’s feeling, or the reasons for these feelings. This may cost him a price he’s unable to pay. As with all things, time will tell. Time he has. But hers is running out.

He eventually sits down, needlessly and quite absentmindedly, and contemplates his next move, deciding this situation is feeling less like what it’s supposed to be - a fact finding mission - and more like what it’s turning out to be - a compulsion. He wonders when things changed, but then admits they may not have changed at all. In all honesty, maybe he’s felt this way from the first time he saw her. This would certainly account for his reluctance to get involved. The problem is I don’t understand my feelings, and more importantly, why I’m feeling anything at all. He mutters. Something is happening which seems beyond my control - preordained. It’s not normal... or what I consider normal anyway. Oh well, only one way to find out... in for a penny, in for a pound.

The decision is against his better judgment. He should call Alex, but Daniel decides to act on his compulsion. I’m going to call her and see where it takes me. After all, she’s just a human girl. He shakes his head as he realizes he’s talking to himself.

CHAPTER FOUR

The fireplace is nice, as fake fireplaces go. And though I’m not a fan of these gas contraptions, it still feels cozy – a warm, early morning fire. And the view! I can only imagine how the mountains look in the winter, blanketed in snow. Still, I’m happy now. Early fall is my favorite time of year in almost any climate. The mountains are awe inspiring, but they’re not inspiring the written word. I guess I’m preoccupied with something (oh come on, be honest Jilly, with someone). What is my problem? He’s a child for heaven sake – but oh so captivating. I wonder... how old is he? He certainly seems older than I suspect he actually is. Why does it matter? And really, why am I wasting time thinking about him. I’ll probably never see him again, except on a movie screen. But, I’m curious enough to research him.

I had no idea, while I couldn’t seem to eradicate thoughts of Daniel, he couldn’t stop thinking about me. Kismet – destiny? Am I twisted? We’d soon find out.

The ring of the hotel room phone jars me out of my reverie. Sadly, the old-fashioned sound of a land line is almost unrecognizable and takes a moment to register in my preoccupied brain. Who would be calling me on this phone? Anyone I’m interested in speaking with has my cell number. I answer with a reluctant hello.

Hello Jillian. Daniel here - we met this morning at the pool. Then - dead airspace. He’s waiting for me to respond.

I’m a bit shocked, and my heart is beating just a little too quickly at the mere sound of his voice. Ridiculous! I can’t think of a single reason he would be calling me. Yes Daniel, I remember. Did you call to tell me you fell off the wagon and bought a pack of cigarettes – so soon? I’m nervous. It brings out my sarcasm.

I hear laughter - a good sign. No, no worries. I’ll keep my promise. Um, I hope I’m not interrupting anything important. It’s quiet again. Was that a question disguised as a statement? Does he expect me to respond? Okay, I’ll bite.

I was actually attempting to work, but not having much success, so no, you didn’t interrupt anything important. Is he going to ask me about my work? I guess not.

If you’re available, would you care to have lunch? I realize I left rather abruptly this morning and hope I didn’t offend you. In any event, I would like the opportunity to thank you – to express my gratitude.

Thank me for what? I’m at a loss.

Your smoking cessation challenge, of course. Do I detect a note of mischief in his voice?

Your gratitude is a little premature, don’t you think? It’s only been a couple of hours. I can’t help but laugh. Not at all - a promise is a promise. Particularly since the smoking was a ruse, Daniel thinks to himself. Are you declining my lunch invitation?

He sounds vaguely amused. He’s probably not accustomed to being turned down. It appears he’s not going to be refused today either. I’m such a pushover. No. I’m actually hungry but didn’t want to put any effort into eating, so your invitation is fortuitous. I would be delighted to have lunch with you. (Fortuitous - delighted? Sheesh!)

Wonderful! Shall I meet you in the lobby in, say, a half hour? He sounds genuinely pleased.

Panic sets in. A half hour is definitely not enough time. You’ve got to give me an hour if you expect me not to embarrass you!

He mutters wryly, not likely, maybe to himself, which is encouraging, but I’m still not budging. I’ll meet you in the lobby in ONE hour. By the way, where are we going? It would be nice to know.

Do you like Mexican? He answers my question with a question.

Who doesn’t? Back atcha... and I just so happen to love it.

I have a restaurant in mind – very authentic – and quite casual.

Perfect. I’m grateful for the casual part – and for the subtle clue how to dress - thoughtful...

See you in the lobby in an hour. He hangs up before I can respond. This is the second time today he’s been abrupt. I guess I shouldn’t take it personal - yet.

I’m pretty confident in my appearance these days - I should be for all the time, effort and money I invested before realizing I was perfect to begin with – hence not a great deal of time is spent fussing. I’m ready ahead of schedule but feeling a bit anxious nevertheless.

Upon exiting the elevator and stepping into the cavernous lobby, I’m surprised by the commotion... Until Daniel appears in the center of it, signing autographs. Of course, I should have known. It’s a safe bet he’s surrounded by fans wherever he goes. Well, this is fairly uncomfortable – and I thought I was anxious before. Ha! If it had occurred to me I would be under the watchful eye of his many admirers, I may have passed on the lunch invite (or dressed nicer maybe). Oh well, it’s too late to make an escape now! He’s zeroed in and is headed in my direction, albeit with some difficulty. It’s actually quite entertaining to watch him artfully disengage from the crowd, and this is the first time he seems less than completely confident. He looks a bit uncomfortable – embarrassed maybe.

Daniel reaches for me, places his arm around my shoulders protectively (I notice for the first time, and with a sense of satisfaction, he’s quite tall) and murmurs something in my ear. It’s so crowded and these people are so close. I can’t imagine how he tolerates it, but he’s ever the gentleman, smiling patiently while somehow managing to keep them just outside of our personal space. I shake my head in confusion and tell him I have no idea what he said. This is all too much. He places his hands on my shoulders and holds me at arms’ length. You are stunning. He says and smiles his killer smile. Oh boy. It’s no wonder everyone loves him.

I pale next to you, young man. I manage to mumble. Judging by his expression (disapproval, maybe anger) I probably should have said thanks. Oh well, too late. I must remember to ask him about it later.

I apologize for this. He whispers in my ear while herding me through the crowd. I should have told you. He’s not getting off the hook so easily. Told me what – you’re the famous Daniel Quinn?

When did you know? He’s still frowning, but now there’s an element of astonishment in his expression. I don’t believe he’s surprised. I recognized you right away. Daniel, give me some credit. A person would have to live under a rock to be unaware who you are, silly boy.

Irritation flashes across Daniel’s face. Please don’t call me a boy. It’s insulting. The frosty look and the harsh whisper are a dead giveaway. I won’t have to ask him about anything later, after all. It’s clear he doesn’t like references to his youth. He’s recovered his smile and we inch forward, slower than I would like. A few more autographs and we’re home free. He’s so kind and generous, and I’m so grateful this is his lifestyle and not mine. I notice him looking toward the door and follow his gaze.

Wow. Is that your car? I’m initially taken aback, but upon reflection, realize I shouldn’t be surprised. It suits him. The valet is waiting beside a sleek, black Audi R8 Spyder. It’s powerful,