Near-Death Connection

By Lura Ketchledge

When attorney Jack Kidwell—a man blessed with an excess of good looks and charm—meets alluring equestrian Madeleine Hampton, he’s blissfully unaware that he has taken an exit ramp into the paranormal world—or that a ghost orchestrated it. A maelstrom of events draws him deeper into the supernatural realm when a ghostly presence launches a flurry of urgent messages. Jack and other central players, some of whom had near-death experiences and returned with psychic gifts, sequester themselves on a haunted farm in the posh Middleburg, Virginia horse country to search for answers. During their entrenchment, the explorers venture deeper into the world of ghosts, the afterlife, and psychic phenomena. Suspicion and jealousy nearly unravel Jack’s world, and he recognizes they must urgently decipher the ghostly messages and take action—or risk being forever lost in a paranormal undercurrent.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lura Ketchledge
• Release date: May 6, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463004791

Lura Ketchledge

From Lura Ketchledge, a well-respected paranormal expert, comes The Near-Death Saga book series. Lura is currently open to sharing treatments, synopses and full book text with legitimate agents and movie studios. The paranormal romance novels are set in the horse world, while wrapped in a murder mystery with characters that have had Near-Death Experiences and returned with psychic gifts.

Book preview

Near-Death Connection: Part One

Chapter One

Saturday, April 15, 1979. Middleburg, Virginia.

Adrove of multicolored house cats scurried in front of Madeleine Hampton’s feet, almost tripping her as she walked from the barn to the hitching post. Raven, half asleep and in the middle of a yawn, was awake enough to accept two sugar cubes, his usual bribe before being saddled. The sun that morning was a temptress flirting with an early spring. The farm’s quiet seclusion had been having its momentary interruptions like a cat’s soft purr, or the one-sided conversation of a horse’s nicker. Off in the distance a flock of birds on their reverse migration swayed with the wind resembling feathers floating in the sky. Madeleine carefully ran her hand one last time down Raven’s back, finishing the last stroke of his grooming. It wasn’t a glamorous job, prepping the horses to ride: first you had to pick their feet and scrape out any dirt and stones that might be packed in the hoof. A badly-embedded stone in a horse’s hoof, if not removed, could cause them to go lame. At the same time, while you brush a horse from head to toe you had to feel for any swelling in the legs and check for any cuts, making the owner half veterinarian and half groomer. With that done, it was time to tack up the horses.

As Madeleine strolled through the small tack room just inside her barn, she gingerly slides a saddle off the rack, careful not to disturb the clean stacked equipment set aside for tomorrow’s horse show. The only western saddle was for guests, and it wasn’t heavy when you picked it up, but it sure was bulky. Raven braced himself as Madeleine plopped the saddle with stirrups flopping in different directions on his back.

Standing next to Raven was Shaheen: Madeleine’s horse with youthful exuberance. He was ready to go but stood there, patiently waiting for his mistress to saddle him. Madeleine meticulously cinched and checked saddles and reins, making sure all were perfect, all was safe. Raven shifted his hind leg weight back and forth, enjoying the morning sun on an early spring day. Raven was used to this ritual and resigned to the fact that he’d be working shortly.

Glancing down at her watch, Madeleine saw it was almost 10:30 a.m. and Jack was already half an hour late. Now both horses are ready to ride and so was she.

---

Jack Kidwell was shifting gears while lighting up another cigarette, and attempting this while making tight turns on a country road takes synchronization. He was running late, as usual. It will take him another ten minutes to get to the farm, but he will do it in five driving fast. As Jack accelerates the engine, he smiled. Almost there.

At thirty, Jack was the picture perfect young lawyer. Well-liked by his co-workers, always consistent wins in court, and tolerated by most of the judges. Six feet tall with sandy blonde hair, hair that was a little too long for some of the partners at the firm. But looks are deceiving, and underneath Jack’s success are some pretty hard truths. Jack wouldn’t admit it, but he still felt a little knot in his stomach just before seeing Madeleine. Like a schoolboy with a crush, she was all he can think about. He knew when he first met Madeleine that he was smitten and he liked it. Now it had been a week since he had seen her.

Turning sharply onto the gravel driveway on Madeleine’s farm, Jack just missed hitting the hunter green mailbox with the little black iron horse on top. Driving along the four-board fence line, he could see last year’s white paint was beginning to chip. Having a four-slat fence that needed to be painted every other year was a costly statement in Middleburg. Most of the farms had acres of fenced pasture that seemed to go on forever. Fences and fence painting was a cottage industry in Middleburg, but because Madeleine’s parents were upper middle class and not wealthy, it was a family project when the fence needed painting.

The farm seemed to awaken after its winter sleep. The spring grass in the pastures was starting to come in. You could see the budding leaves on the mature walnut trees lining both sides of the driveway, reminding you that there once had been a walnut grove there. The long row of tulips surrounding the front of the porch were blooming early this year. With the fields just greening up, the farm looked lovely, even picturesque.

Just one of the horses was grazing in the front field: it was Traveler, Madeleine’s father’s horse. Named after General Robert E. Lee’s horse, Traveler looked the part. He stood tall – almost 17 hands – this bold, bay-colored thoroughbred was no beginner’s horse. Jack was relieved he wasn’t riding him today.

Still parked in front of the house was Ellen’s white Volvo wagon. Jack had hoped Ellen might be at Langford Hospital, saving lives instead of annoying him. What was it about girls’ mothers? They never liked him. He’d only met Ellen once, and once was enough for Jack.

Madeleine’s house had been built just after the Civil War, or as rural Virginians’ put it, the War of Northern Aggression. It was a large working farm in its day, not an estate. Once there had been over four hundred acres. Robert Hampton’s family had split and sold off most of the land over the years, and now there were just twenty-eight acres left. That was still plenty of land for a gentleman’s horse farm. The minute Jack drove out of Washington D.C., he fell in love with the scenic landscape of Middleburg. But not its people.

---

The outside of the house looked weathered and worn, and it still had most of its original exterior wood. Jack wondered if it was worth the huge renovation that Ellen and her third husband planned this summer. The front door and shutters were faded and splintered. The once bright yellow paint on the house was now the pale faded color of butter. Madeleine’s father politely said the house was in need of a face-lift. Leave it to a Southerner to put a sugar-sweet name on a house project, Jack thought.

The outside of Madeleine’s house was the complete opposite of the inside. Jack had to give credit where credit was due: Ellen had elegant taste and had done all the decorating herself. She and her husband Robert had completely renovated the interior of the house. The process had taken them three years and over fifty thousand dollars. Finding the original wallpaper and duplicating it had been Ellen’s biggest challenge. They also refinished all the hardwood floors, replaced custom wood work when necessary, and bought all new lighting fixtures.

You have to throw a lot of money into a historical renovation to make it look good. It might have been cheaper but it wouldn’t have been better if they had just torn down the old farm house and built a new home. With time and patience, the Hamptons’ kept to the original house design as much as possible, with the exception of indoor plumbing. Decorating the interior of the house with a blend of antique and classic English furniture made it special, but it was also practical: it felt like a comfortable museum, one where you could put your feet up on the furniture.

---

Following the driveway led you past the house and around the back to the barn. The little red barn had white trim and a weather vane on top of it. With its second story hayloft door and hitching post in front, it was cute. Built forty years after the main house, it wasn’t holding up as well. Robert Hampton planned to build a new barn in the fall, in time for winter. The next barn wasn’t going to be any bigger than the present, but it would be made of cement block and have indoor water.

There were only three horse stalls in the barn in a straight row, and it was too small for any more. Each stall had a V-shaped gossip door so the horses could hang their heads over and visit one another. There were brass name plates on the stall doors with the horses’ individual name on them. Every stall had a front and back door so the horses could come into the barn from the fields by themselves. Right in front of the stalls was a large open space used for grooming the horses, and there was a wood ladder to the hayloft. Inside each stall were rough-cut oak boards lining the walls, and the concrete floor was cracked and chipped in places. The only water to the barn came from a hand-held pump just to the left of the barn, opposite the hitching post. The small tack room on the right side of the barn was crowded with feed buckets, bridles, saddles and everything else a horse could need or want. The modest red barn was downwind of the house, but close enough to hear any real trouble.

Jack quickly turned off his eight track playing David Bowie’s song Fame because loud music could spook the horses. Tied at the hitching post in front of the barn were two horses: Raven, Ellen’s gentle jet black Tennessee walking horse who doubled as the resident guest horse, and Shaheen, Madeleine’s beloved horse. Robert Hampton, Madeleine’s stepfather, always said half-jokingly that Shaheen was a big lap dog in a horse’s costume.

Shaheen had swirls of dark and light charcoal gray running through his dappled coat. His full, long mane was silver, and his charcoal and smoky gray thick tail brushed the ground when he walked. A tall, stocky horse, he stood 16.1 hands. Shaheen’s sire was a quarter horse, his damn a registered paint. His right eye was steel blue, his left dark brown. With even white socks on every leg and a white broken blaze running down his face, he was a beautiful animal to behold.

---

Jack slid the small pink gift box next to him off the car seat and onto the floor. He wanted to give Madeleine her present just before the horse show. She loved little surprises, and that made Jack feel appreciated. Jack parked his sports car beside Madeleine’s open Jeep, tossed the keys on the seat, and made a beeline for the horses.

Calling to Madeleine, who was in one of the stalls, he asked, Can I ride Shaheen today?

Madeleine quickly exited the barn. I have Raven all ready for you, Jack! she exclaimed.

He laughed, knowing her response before she said it. She was like a little girl who wouldn’t let you pick up her doll, only it was her horse.

Madeleine, just twenty-one, looked so cute to Jack when she was all dolled up in her riding clothes and tall boots. Her long auburn hair looked fluffy and wild that morning. Her pretty face complimented her sweet smile. Jack sprinted over to her and pulled her close to him. She smiled up at him, then they kissed. After all, it had been a week since he had seen her and that felt like forever to Jack.

---

Madeleine was staying at the farm training her horse during her college spring break, getting ready for this Sunday’s horse show. She had signed up for a variety of classes and wanted to do well and hopefully place. Competition would be stiff. Most of the riders had way more experience and had dropped serious money on their horses. Shaheen was only at training level dressage, so most of her classes would be in equitation with only one in conformation because Shaheen was half-Paint.

Madeleine looked at Jack’s blue jeans, cowboy boots and black long sleeved cotton Western shirt. He looked more like the Marlboro man than anything else. His longish blonde hair was combed back off his face, and what struck her first – what struck every woman first – were Jack’s electric blue eyes and dimples. Jack could charm any woman with his pretty boy face and hard muscled body… but he didn’t. Picking up a girl for a one night stand was one thing, but Jack was selective and almost picky to a fault when choosing a serious girlfriend.

On the outside, no one would guess that Jack Kidwell was a lone wolf at heart because he had people around him most of the time. But until Madeleine, he led a solitary life.

---

Well, let’s go, babe! Jack insisted.

Jack was on Raven in two steps, turning his back to Madeleine and starting down the driveway with her dog Cowboy tagging along for the ride.

Wait, Jack I’ve got to – Madeleine couldn’t finish her sentence.

She untied the reins and slipped them over Shaheen’s neck and a second later she was in the saddle following Jack down the driveway. Madeleine glanced back at her riding helmet next to the hitching post. She had forgotten to put it on because he had rushed her. Jack always rushed her. Madeleine looked back, knowing she should ride with her helmet on. But Jack was so far ahead, she left it behind. Madeleine gave her horse leg and started to canter after him.

They were off and down the road together, trotting past the beautiful farms and taking in the scenery.

One farm had a large white Victorian home with a gazebo and endless rambling gardens. The driveway was bumper to bumper full of houseguests’ cars from the city. The next neighbor’s home was a three-story mansion with a countless number of rooms. Just built, the lawn hadn’t even come in yet. Its huge balcony caught every view for miles. Built for show, it looked out of place with its tall, fluted, white columns. A Greek revival was hard to do well and easy to overdo. This architect must have watched Gone with the Wind too many times. The new owners were weekend residents only and interested in splash and dazzle, not horses, country living or getting to know their neighbors. With freshly painted fencing, there wasn’t a single animal in any field.

Then there was the last farm on Covington Lane, which was by far the most interesting and infamous. Just a large old two-story brick home tucked back away from the main road with pear trees lining the long cobblestone driveway. Built around the American Revolution, it was on the historic registry.

But that wasn’t its claim to fame. That was the murder of a young captain during the war of 1812. Supposedly his beautiful young wife killed him, then took the body to Great Falls and dumped him, with the help of one of her slaves. The captain’s father was the wife’s main accuser. Her trial and hanging were done in record time. The wife and her slave were not dead a week when her husband turned up alive. The captain had been shot, but not by his wife, only grazed by a sniper’s bullet on his way home from Washington City on leave. The captain had gotten a fever from the wound and had been at hospital all along. It was quite the scandal in its day and led to a hasty duel between the two families, taking another innocent life. Sad to say, but the house stood empty most of the time. Just looking down its driveway at the flowerless garden in front of the porch reminded you of a lonely bachelor waiting for the right girl to make his house a home. Adding spice and intrigue to the situation, the house was rumored to be haunted.

Jack and Madeleine rode side by side while Cowboy rode point, weaving in and out of the bushes ahead of them. Cowboy was a big, fluffy puppy when Madeleine got him from the shelter. He was all black except for white on one paw and the end of his tail. The little puppy kept growing bigger and bigger, finally reaching eighty-five pounds. Only then could the family see that he was partly Newfoundland retriever and something else, a genetic mystery. Sometimes all you could see was the white tip of his tail in the bushes. Cowboy loved to go on a good trail ride. He could usually keep up with the horses.

---

Closing the back door of the house behind her, Dr. Ellen Hampton, Madeleine’s mother was still buttoning her suit. Even on a Saturday she has to drive to the hospital to check on one of her patients. Ellen looked toward the barn and realizes her daughter has already left without saying goodbye. Then she saw Jack’s red sports car parked next to the Jeep.

Over by the hitching post, Ellen saw her daughter’s black velvet-riding helmet: Damn. That girl knows better! Ellen screeched out loud.

She must have been in a rush, Ellen thought. Jack must have rushed her. Jack seemed the careless type and it really burned Ellen to know Madeleine didn’t have her helmet on. Jack was what really burned Ellen Hampton. Ellen stood there with a frown on her face.

Ellen Hampton was elegant wherever she went. She was one of those rare people who know just how to dress and carry themself. She was wearing a light cream colored suit (probably Chanel) tasteful jewelry, and her hair was always shoulder length and precision cut. Her dark hair framed her brown eyes. Ellen’s look was quite different from her daughter’s. Just forty-five, she was tall and striking to look at, but not a classic beauty. With doe-like brown eyes and thick, arched eyebrows that complemented her olive complexion, she stood apart from the Barbie doll ideal of feminine beauty. Ellen’s nose was prominent, her smile warm and compassionate, and her voice soft, calming and always in control. Ellen had class, something you can’t fake and money can’t buy.

---

Jack and Madeleine followed the road a mile before they got to the bridle path, which doubled as a lover’s lane for the local teenagers after dark. The path went far and wide. It took you through the woods and around a large pond filled with wild ducks and geese. It weaved back and around miles of exclusive, scenic Middleburg countryside. On a sunny day you might see a famous politician riding or a wealthy socialite. The couple only strayed a few miles from home. Madeleine rode hard and collected, taking only a few low jumps. She excluded all the high jumps because it was safer to take a high jump in a controlled environment. You never knew if the ground you were landing on was even unless you walked the course yourself just before jumping. Jack rode on the path, staying away from any possible jumps. When Madeleine rode, it took all her concentration; it was something that didn’t come easy for her. Madeleine wasn’t clumsy, she just wasn’t a natural athlete. After her last jump, she would take her feet out of the stirrups, and only then would she start to relax and enjoy the scenery.

The couple slowed their horses to a walk got off and started to talk. Jack stretched his legs and twisted his right shoulder around, embarrassed to admit that he was a bit sore. Jack began telling her about the case he had won on last Tuesday, and Friday’s endless deposition. Next they were standing alongside the pond, letting the horses graze with reins in hand. Jack casually started letting his horse take a drink from the pond, without thinking. Madeleine quickly stopped him, then explained in great detail why it was wrong to let overheated horses drink water.

All you had to tell me was no, Jack whispered.

Madeleine began checking her horse’s temperature by putting her hand on the animal’s chest and feeling for heat, making sure he was cooling out properly. In that moment, she was totally consumed with her horse and being with Jack was an afterthought.

Jack walked over and gave her a hug from behind. She turned around and kissed him back. Then he brushed the hair away from her face and kissed her forehead. At that moment, Jack felt completely happy, like the last piece of the puzzle was finally put into place. He pulled her close to him, putting his hands on either side of her face then running his fingers down through her long auburn hair. So many thoughts were running through his mind. Saying nothing, he kissed her passionately.

---

Jack met Madeleine last winter on the first day of February, only a few months ago. That night he was making his usual rounds in his favorite bars. After a long day in court he liked to forget people’s bickering. Just starting at the firm, he only got the insignificant cases, but now, after four years, he started to get ones that counted, that one day would take him to partner.

Come Friday night he’d hit the Georgetown strip, a long row of nightclubs lining Georgetown’s main streets. Just three blocks from his townhouse, he didn’t even have to drive. First stop: a sports pub on M Street called The Paul Mall just to have a beer and relax. It was just a small, casual bar where you could unwind and talk about who would win the next big game. Jack had defended one of the bartenders in a DUI case and had won. His client was innocent, and an innocent client was always grateful. Jack’s money was no good, and the beer was always on the house. There, Jack would usually run in to a buddy. Together they would cruise the Georgetown clubs to have a good time and check out the talent – meaning girls.

Next they’d head to the Bayou down on the Potomac River just off Wisconsin Avenue. That place always had good local bands. It was a rowdy club at times with a strictly beer-drinking clientele. Jack liked to sit in the balcony to watch the girls dance. It was easier to see what they looked like then, before making his selection. The Bayou had a young crowd and after midnight there would usually be a brawl in the parking lot. Next they would head over to Clyde’s on M Street for a couple of shooters and to regain hearing. It was an upscale bar, which stood in sharp contrast to the Bayou. Even at midnight, most men were still in their three-piece business suits.

Then he and a buddy would catch a cab downtown to Dejavoo. Jack had become friends with the manager there and quickly got escorted inside. It was D.C.’s version of New York City’s Studio 54. Most of Capitol Hill’s movers and shakers partied there, or at least the younger ones did. It was a two story smoke-filled club, expensive and never a place to sit. The bartenders were impersonal, the décor looked chic, and the clientele was snooty. You had to lean against one of the walls or dance, there were no in between. Loud music and fast women: Jack liked it that way. With Jack’s pretty boy good looks and hard muscled body, he was never alone for long.

Without failure, if he hadn’t taken a girl home by 2am, he would end up at The Crazy Horse Saloon back on M Street. Jack liked to sit on the same stool – the one right in the middle of the main bar, at Tess’s bar. It was a small, dark club, long and narrow, with just a few petite bistro tables in the center for couples to sit and talk. With the who’s who of Georgetown nightlife usually in attendance, it was the place to be seen for those who valued such things. There was always some second rate local band playing a little too loud. Every wall literally had a bar in front of it. Each bar had its own name, like a small state with in a country. With the lights turned on, the club looked old and run down, bordering on shabby. At night, barely lit, the club had a mystique to it. Jack liked sitting there after finishing up an evening. He never brought a girl into the Crazy Horse and he never left with one he met there. He’d come in alone and quietly sit at the main bar with the band directly behind it… Tess’s bar.

Frequenting the Crazy Horse Saloon in the early morning hours was Jack’s way to wind down before heading home. With a rum and coke in one hand and a cigarette in the other, he felt the stress of the day melting away as he knocked back the last drink of the evening. Tess knew Jack’s routine, so he didn’t even have to order.

---

Tess Hamilton had movie star good looks. She seemed a cross between the Hollywood legends Ava Gardner and Vivien Leigh. Tess had the rare combination of an hour glass figure, a gorgeous face, and quiet reserve. Her striking blue green eyes were one of a kind, and that slight New Orleans accent of hers only added to her charm. The only thing that took away from Tess’s good looks was her obviously bleached blonde long hair.

Tess Hamilton gave off an air of confidence, but she was really in over her head. She lacked the hard edge it took to work in that night club.

Jack met Tess at a Tower record store one dark, rainy afternoon on his lunch hour the previous year. In the middle of their conversation, a ghost as white as chalk stood directly behind Tess. If Jack had the gift of psychic ability, he might have seen him. He might have seen it was the faded outline of a middle aged black man, a man with deep creases in his face and a forlorn expression in his eyes, a man who led a hard life when he was alive. Jack couldn’t have known it wasn’t a haunting, only a visitation by a spirit who wanted these two people to meet and watched over them for a minute or two like a shepherd protecting his sheep. Tess had a mild reaction to the ghost, but wasn’t aware of it. The little hairs on the back of her neck stood up just before the ghost disappeared. Out of instinct Tess turned around, but she saw nothing because the ghost dissolved seconds before she turned her head.

At the record store, Jack couldn’t seem to walk away from Tess; he lost track of time that afternoon and was late getting back to work. Later that evening Jack called Tess, and by the end of their conversation she was his trusted friend. The gold standard of a true friendship is who you share your good news with. The only living person Jack shared his good news with was Tess Hamilton.

There was nothing whatsoever romantic in their relationship. No secret glances, no hidden agenda, and no ulterior motives. Jack couldn’t wait to tell Tess his joke of the week or ask her advice over something trivial. Most of the time, Jack couldn’t keep himself from smiling around her. Some paranormal undercurrent connected them together, and an invisible barrier stopped any sexual attraction from ever starting. In the most bizarre way, their hand and glove friendship felt natural.

There was always a strange sensation Jack got being near Tess, like something hit him in the gut and said that this person was good and he’s safe trusting her. It was odd for Jack because he’d never struck up a friendship with anyone in that way. It was a once in a lifetime connection.

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Jack Kidwell didn’t know he was taking an exit ramp into the paranormal world the night he met Madeleine. It was early – around nine thirty – when he strolled into The Crazy Horse Saloon on M Street, only to find his seat occupied. The club was almost dead because of the bad weather. Madeleine’s back was to him, her face obstructed. All Jack could see was her long, dark auburn hair, a flurry of curls and waves. Thick, full hair so long it touched the bar stool seat. Jack put his hand on the bar, ready to order a drink and find another seat.

That second – that very second, when Jack set his hand down – a ghost that was no more than a white vapor passed by Jack’s shoulder. A collection of luminous particles quickly assembled, filling in the spaces and giving definition, telling the story of who he had been when he was alive. Of course, Jack was oblivious to the ghost, but this was the same ghost from the record store. By the ghost’s unremarkable clothing and short, cropped hair, you couldn’t tell what era he had lived in. The older black man could have died a week ago or in the last century. The ghost’s luminous hands lay at his sides as he whispered into Jack’s ear, Look at her, Jack.

Jack didn’t think. Instead, he reacted to the ghost’s suggestion by leaning against the bar with his arm outreached, cornering Madeleine in her seat. Once he had her attention, Madeleine looked up and gently smiled. What a pretty, pretty girl he thought to himself. Tongue tied, which doesn’t happen often to a lawyer, he stuttered out a weak Hello. Jack took in all her features: her bright green eyes, her rosebud lips, her oval face with such delicate contours. He noticed everything she was wearing: her off the shoulder black cashmere sweater that showed her curves and gave a thorough idea of what she would look like without her clothes on. When Jack looked at her, he felt something more than just sexual attraction. He felt desperation. Jack was shocked at how this young woman, just a stranger moments before, affected his thoughts.

The ghost stepped back and, satisfied, dropped his head at his job well done before returning to where he had come from.

Madeleine Hampton was not a drop dead gorgeous woman. Her figure was slender, almost willowy, meaning she was not overly busty or curvaceous. Madeleine cracked her knuckles when she was nervous, wore a size nine shoe, and lacked confidence at times. What Madeleine did have was youth, an appealing figure, long shapely legs, gorgeous hair and a pretty face.

Jack Kidwell ran into good-looking girls and beautiful women all the time. Maybe another time and place and Jack might not have noticed Madeleine. The difference in meeting Madeleine that February night was the ghost factor. For some unknown reason, the same ghost that connected Jack to Tess Hamilton required Jack to discover Madeleine Hampton.

As soon as he said hello, Jack felt like one of those idiots with the unbuttoned shirt and gold chains, making fools out of themselves by pushing themselves right into a girl’s face. He stepped back, remembering it was his style to let the girls come to him.

Madeleine sat there, quietly nursing a Coke. Jack’s heart was pounding like a hormonal teenager and he felt beads of perspiration exploding on his temples and forehead. Jack tried to collect himself; nothing like this had ever happened to him before. Poised now, extending his hand to hers, he said, I’m Jack Kidwell. May I buy you a drink?

It’s not what he said, but that he said it with such sweet sincerity, like a shy sixth grade boy asking a girl to dance for the first time.

Madeleine slipped her soft, manicured hand in his, and when Jack didn’t let go of it right away, she felt uncomfortable.

I am Tess’s roommate, and I don’t think we have met, Madeleine said, trying to diffuse the sexual tension.

Madeleine got more than she bargained for; just shaking Jack’s hand, she felt an instant attraction to a man almost ten years older than her. Mercifully, Tess was in front of them with two small glasses in one hand, and she poured them both a shot.

What’s that? Jack asked, wondering what the pink liquid in the shot glass was all about.

Tess said with a great deal of sarcasm, It’s a Jonestown Kool-Aid shooter, one of my latest creations. Cyanide not included, try it.

It had only been weeks since the Jim Jones mass suicide in Guyana and already the jokes were flying around Georgetown.

How morbid! Jack said, giving a toast.

They both took the drink, a delicious sweet rum shooter. It went down smoothly enough, but packed a wallop five minutes later.

Tess kept talking: Jack, this is my friend Madeleine, the one with the horses.

Jack smiled more out of nervous relief than anything. Yes, he knew of Tess’s room mate and friend, but secondhand descriptions couldn’t have prepared him for the electricity between them.

Two drinks later, dancing led to small talk and to more dancing. Before Jack knew it, he was swept away with Madeleine. Jack was acting like a perfect gentleman that night, praying for a slow song to dance to so he could touch her, but it never came.

Madeleine was always very cautious meeting anyone new – she was a reticent girl by nature – but at closing time, when Tess was busy and the lights were coming on, Jack panicked. Instead of asking Madeleine to dinner and getting her phone number, he blurted out that he was running a vacation special at his apartment, only a few blocks away. It was Jack’s attempt to defuse his intense feelings with humor. Off his game, Jack’s little joke wasn’t funny even to him, and he knew it was bordering on crude.

Madeleine didn’t like what she heard, but instead of calling him out on his coarse proposition, she decided to smooth over his mess with a straight-faced, polite retort: It will have to be next week because I am staying at my parents’ house this month while they’re out of town. Let me give you their number.

Stealing a pen lying next to the cash register, Madeleine wrote the number on a bar napkin, leaned over, and neatly put it in Jack’s shirt pocket.

Suggestively, she kissed Jack on the check just brushing her lips next to his skin then said, Got to go, tell Tess I will call her tomorrow.

Madeleine was up and out the door in a flash.

Wait! Jack insisted.

He tried to catch up to her – he wanted to walk her to her car, at least – but he still hadn’t paid the bar tab and Tess was downstairs somewhere. Jack felt like he had blown it. He’d had too much to drink and put his foot in his mouth so far it tickled his tonsils. Then Jack patted the napkin in his pocket. It comforted him to have her parents’ number in his shirt pocket. Just knowing he could call her sedated his panic. His out of control feelings for a woman he didn’t know just hours ago seemed to hijack his good common sense. As crazy as it felt to Jack, he loved being on the edge and the idea of seeing her again. Tomorrow he would call her and ask her out properly, he promised himself. ‘How could this night get anymore surreal,’ he thought.

---

Back at the bar, after Jack paid his bar tab and Tess Hamilton surfaced, she took him aside.

Just forget about her, Jack, Tess said.

Jack was taken aback; Tess was aware of his track record with women, but she had never judged him before nor laid down the law to him.

He quickly replied, It’s not like that, and I’ll prove you wrong!

Jack did look guilty as charged, but it was different this time.

Tess, speaking softly like a compassionate mother protecting a child from an inevitable mistake, told Jack, There’s more to this situation than you know.

Jack wasn’t listening to her advice. They both stood there at an awkward impasse, looking at each other uncomfortably.

Breaking the silence, Jack asked, Can I take you to breakfast, at least?

Putting her coat on, Tess said, Not tonight. I want to get home before it snows any more.

Going to the American Café restaurant over on Wisconsin Avenue for breakfast and to unwind was a tradition with most of the local bartenders. Tess was a regular there after her shift was over, and sometimes Jack would tag along.

Let me walk you to your car, at least, Tess? Jack asked.

No thanks, I parked in front of the club for once. The best advice I can give you is to go home get some sleep and forget that you ever met Madeleine. I’ll call you next week and maybe we can catch a movie or something, Tess suggested as she walked out the nightclub doors.

Jack left the club too, and on his way home it began to snow hard.

That night, Jack couldn’t sleep. He kept watching the clock until 9 am. The bar napkin was starting to disintegrate from Jack holding it in his hands. He dialed the number and the phone began to ring. He had rehearsed what he would say, how he would ask Madeleine to go out to dinner and, last but not least, his apology. Jack wanted to take her out to dinner, maybe to the New Orleans House or the Foundry in Georgetown. It would have to be some place fancy in his estimation so he could impress her.

Then someone answered the phone and interrupted his thoughts, and it was a male voice: You have reached the gay hotline. A counselor will be with you in a moment.

Jack dropped the phone, Shit! he yelped.

---

It took two weeks for Jack to talk Tess into giving her blessing concerning Madeleine, but he finally wore her down and got the unlisted phone number to the Hampton’s farm. Still, it was another two weeks and several calls before Madeleine gave Jack a second chance. Madeleine had played hard to get in the beginning. In the six short weeks Jack had dated Madeleine, she turned his life upside down for the better.

---

After their steamy kiss, Madeleine turned her attention back to her horse again, letting the reins slack so he could graze. The pond rippled gently as a line of ducks followed their leader into the pond. Jack leaned against a tall tree on the edge of the pond to rest. Just then, they heard another rider approaching. Like a thunderbolt out from nowhere, Joanne Augustino rode in on her enormous horse, stopping just short of the pond and making Jack jump back.

Joanne Augustino’s huge horse, Rag Picker, resembled a draft horse. Rag Picker was a nearly all white Andalusian with a coat so thin you could almost see his pink skin underneath. That horse would cost a mint, Jack thought. It reminded him of Napoleon’s portrait, the one with the white horse that he saw at the Smithsonian.

I am glad I found you two, Joanne said with friendly enthusiasm.

Every time I see you riding up, I’m in awe, Joanne, Madeleine cooed.

Madeleine patted Rag Picker on the neck and ran her hand down his muscled shoulder.

Joanne Augustino, with her big hair, thick accent, and heavy makeup, looked like she had stepped right out of Brooklyn that morning. Her expensive tailored riding habit was drowned out by multiple layers of jewelry. Even though she had lived in Virginia for ten years, she didn’t grasp the concept that less was more.

Joanne was older than Madeleine, in her late forties and a friend of her parents. She was 5-feet, 5-inches tall with shoulder length dark hair and deep brown eyes. Joanne had a rather curvaceous figure and an appealing face to match. Every summer since Madeleine was thirteen, she had worked on Joanne’s horse farm. When Madeleine first got her horse, her now-beloved Shaheen, she was overwhelmed, and Joanne patiently tried to help her improve her riding. She did it