The Princess of the Desert

By Melodie Thomas

Edited by Holly Hart

Chapter 13

Thursday, June 4, 2009
The United States Navy and the United States Marine Corp have never really considered themselves the best of friends. Though both belong to the Department of the Navy, there has always been enough rivalry to keep them at odds with each other over just about anything. Having been a Marine, I had been indoctrinated with that same level of rivalry and did not consider anyone from the Navy to be worth my time. However, on that Tuesday morning, there were four Navy SEALs that I could have kissed, and I think Stephanie did.

The bungalow, our rental car and the UPS truck and had been totally destroyed in the explosions. Both gunman had be killed by the SEALs and background checks revealed one was from Syria and the other from Iran, both being in the U.S. on student visas at the University of Hawaii. This discovery convinced Smith that he was correct in his assumption the whole case we were working on was tied into the Islamic extremist activities in the Middle East. It also caused increased attention to the other seven University of Hawaii students who were from the Middle East.

Stephanie and I were taken to the U.S. Naval Hospital at Pearl Harbor, where our various cuts, scratches and bruises were treated, as well as having our ears checked, as normal hearing was slow to return. Considering everything that happened, we counted ourselves very lucky. We spent Tuesday night in quarters on the Naval base, and Wednesday morning were given seats on the daily military shuttle between Hawaii and San Diego Naval base. Since all of our personal belongings were destroyed in the explosion, we were given military uniforms, without rank or insignia, for our trip back to the States. After landing in San Diego, we were escorted to a hanger where a familiar Lear Jet was waiting for us.

“You two look like you have been a couple of rounds with a rose bush.” Smith greeted us as we entered the Leer.

I could tell from the look on Stephanie’s face that the response she had in mind was not very ladylike. She walked past Smith, grabbed the travel bag he was holding, and headed to the bathroom without saying a word. I grabbed a cup of coffee from the galley and sat down opposite Smith.

“Other than your sharp wit, did you bring any useful information?” I asked, sipping my coffee.

Smith set his coffee on the table, “Vivian Vasnev has disappeared.”

“Disappeared?”

“Yep, disappeared, suitcases, clothes, personal bank account emptied, credit cards left on the table, passport left on the table, disappeared. Ivan is still here and totally beside himself. Doesn’t seem like he can explain it, or understand it. Either he is putting on a good act, or we have been looking in the wrong direction.”

We were quiet for a few minutes while I pondered what I was just told, and I felt the jet start to move.

“How is Steph doing?” Smith broke the silence.

“Honestly, I don’t know, and now thinking that Vivian could be involved, makes me wonder even more. Steph and Vivian seemed pretty close, and Stephanie has been taking a lot of drugs.”

“I know,” Smith interjected, “Ryan told me what you asked him to do.”

I could feel my anger raising as I looked at Smith. Apparently he could see it and laughed, “Dan, we are on the same side. Ryan is a pro, he is not going to break reporting protocol.”

“Okay, I will assume we are on the same side for now,” I responded coldly.

Smith laughed again, “I can understand your point. It does not seem to clear who is on whose side right now. Anyway, I have sent the drugs you collected to our lab to identify them. I don’t really think getting Dr. Reinfelt involved in this any further is a good idea.”

Thinking about it, I had to agree with him. If anyone knew Paula was involved they could silence her pretty easily since no one was watching out for her. I should not have been using her and Ryan’s friendship, but I was really having a hard time deciding who to trust. At that moment, Stephanie came out of the bathroom looking like a different person. She was wearing a white tee shirt, shorts and three inch heeled sandals. Her hair was brushed and bound in a ponytail and she was wearing makeup that covered most of the scratches on her face. She walked past us, to the galley, got a bottle of water and returned to the seat next to me.

“Thank you.” Stephanie said, looking at Smith, “Tell me about Vivian, please.”

Smith repeated for Stephanie what he had told me and I could see her shoulders slump slightly as well as a down cast in her eyes.

“I trusted her.” Stephanie finally whispered.

“I am sorry, Steph.” Smith said as I reached over and took her hand. “I wish I could tell you who to trust in this mess, besides the guy sitting next to you.”

“I trust him with my heart and soul, Mr. Smith. However, the jury is still out on you.”

Smith laughed aloud, “You two make quite a pair, but I can’t say that I blame you.”

“Now that we know that neither or us really trust you,” I said, “What can you tell us about what you have learned over the past few days.”

Smith got serious as he sat there and thought for a moment. “The brands on the girls we recovered were 8, 10, 11, 17 and 20. Counting the five we already knew about, Steph and the girl in Hawaii, we have twelve of the known twenty four recovered. Steph, do you happen to know the number on the girl in Hawaii?”

Stephanie shook her head, “No, I only knew her by name and not really that well. We had crossed paths once or twice and that was it. Also, I did not remember any of that until the instant I saw her.”

Smith looked like he wanted to ask a question but then changed his mind. “Ivan is working with the girls, and we have brought in three more staff psychiatrist. The new doctors are working with Ivan and studying the notes on their own. Ivan’s activities are being very closely monitored and I would like to phase him out of the case just due to the personal involvement, if for no other reason. He has agreed to all of this.

“We have not learned much from the girls yet, pretty much going through the same issues we had with you.” Smith nodded at Stephanie. “We are expecting that to take quite a bit of time. For the most part, they all show the same injury patterns that Steph showed, as well as the drug dependencies. The one we lost at the scene was number eight. When the team entered the building, all three were in separate cell-like cages, however, number eight was not locked in, and had a weapon. She opened fire as soon as our team entered and our guys returned fire. None of our guys were injured but victim seventeen caught a ricochet in the leg, nothing serious though.“

Smith paused for a moment and took a sip of his coffee. “Steph, all of the doctors agree that at some point, there could be value with you spending some time with the new girls. They feel the girls may relate better to someone that ‘has been there’, shall we say.”

Stephanie thought for a moment, “I would like to do that, Mr. Smith, but I would really have to see where they are and where I am. As you well know, I am not, what one would call, cured, yet.”

“I understand,” Smith nodded, “However, the doctors do think it would be helpful if the girls felt they had someone that had been through the same thing to talk to. By the way, what is this about the girls not being allowed to kill each other?”

Stephanie thought for a moment, “I know this may sound like I am hiding something, but I don’t really remember that much. It seems when I see something, images flash back into be head. Like when I first saw Charkov, I instantly remembered all of the things he said and most of the circumstances around them. Dan and I had long talks about that.”

I nodded in agreement while sipping my coffee.

“The same happened when I saw April,” Stephanie continued, “images and thoughts came back into my head that I could not have told you about moments before. I remembered that was a primary rule, we could not kill each other, or the people that controlled us. When I walked in to that house in Manila, and saw Charkov, the first thing I wanted to do was take my pistol and shoot him, but I couldn’t, I just knew I couldn’t.”

“And the fighting skills?” Smith asked.

Stephanie smiled, “I can tell you I like having them, I think they saved Dan’s life, but I can’t tell you a thing about how I got them. I have no memory of that kind of training, I just reacted to the situation, like my body knew what to do, I didn’t have to think about it.”

Smith stood and walked to the galley, returning with a pot of coffee, topping off my cup as well as his own before sitting back down.

“Smith,” I started, “This whole trust thing is really out of hand. Neither Stephanie nor I really know who we can trust. Sometimes, I have a hard time trusting Stephanie because I don’t know what kind of suppressed programming or training is going to pop up next.”

Smith’s eyes opened in surprise at that statement and glanced quickly at Stephanie.

“It is true, we have talked about it,” Stephanie said, “sometimes I don’t even trust myself. I don’t know what all is inside of here,” pointing at her head. “To be honest, that sometimes scares me more than the people we are looking for.”

“I understand about operational security and that kind of stuff,” I stepped back in, “but it might go a long way in this trust question if we knew exactly who you were, and what you do, and why you are involved in this.”

Smith held his coffee cup and looked at me for the longest moment. Finally, he sat his cup back on the table and reached into his back pocket and pulled out a leather identification pack and slid it across the table to me.

“My real name is Smith,” he said as I picked up the wallet, “Joshua Smith. I am a senior field supervisor reporting to the Director of Operations with the CIA. I don’t know if my birth name is Smith or not. I was an orphan and was found on the steps of a church when I was about two months old. I had the name Joshua pinned to my blanket and the last name Smith, came from the nuns. As for why I am involved in this, I think you already know the answer to that. We believe this is some form of terrorist activity and that falls under our realm of responsibility.”

The identity card and photograph inside the leather pouch said the same thing as Smith was telling us.

“I hate the name Joshua or Josh, so I just go by Smith. Everything I have told you has been the truth from the first day we meet, I just have not expounded on all the details. I know you two have been through a lot, but I am one of the good guys.”

“Thank you Joshua, I hope that is true.” Stephanie said with one of her killer smiles, causing Smith to roll his eyes and look at the ceiling.

“What about Charkov and the other two?” I asked, trying not to let the situation get out of control.

“The other two guys were just hired thugs,” Smith said shaking his head with a slight smile. “They are Philippine nationals who were just hired by Charkov and have nothing useful for us. They will wake up in a few days on a beach somewhere in the Philippines. They may have a few stories to tell but I doubt anyone will seriously listen to them. Besides, they have no idea who took them or where they have been.

“Charkov, on the other hand, has been a tougher nut to deal with. First off, we had to wire his jaw shut.” Smith glanced at Stephanie, who did not even act like she heard him. “After that, it had just been a slow process.”

“I am assuming he has a lawyer by now.” I said.

Smith smiled, “Dan, I hope this does not become a problem with you, but we don’t always operate to the letter of the law for non U.S. citizens. No, Charkov has not been supplied with a lawyer, though he has asked for one a number of times.”

Smith just sat there looking at me, waiting to see how I would respond. Being a sworn officer of the law, I know the rights of the accused and know they are entitled to representation, and that I am duty bound to provide it. I also knew that willfully violating that duty could not only cost me my job, but perhaps bring criminal charges as well. I glanced at Stephanie, who was pretending to read the label on her water bottle, and knew that she had not been read her of rights, or been given due process in what happened to her, or the other victims. I also had a pretty good idea of the kind of questioning Smith was subjecting Charkov to, but no matter what it was, it was nowhere near as brutal was what Steph had lived through. I thought about the way I felt in Las Cruces when I saw that video and what I would have been willing to do to anyone at that time.

“I don’t want to know about it, nor do I want to see it. I just want to know what you learn. Beyond that, I don’t know anything.”

Smith nodded, “So far we have not learned much from him. Charkov claims he was not involved in most of the planning activities, only in the training of the victims. He so far has not been able to give us a total number of victims. He thinks there was one more group of four taken after Stephanie, but is not positive about it.

“We quizzed him pretty heavily about Vivian and Ivan, and he claims no knowledge of them, only that he worked with Anya and Robert, whom he claims are his family. It will take us a lot more time to get everything out of him, but we are working on it.”

Monday, June 8, 2009
We did not arrive back in D.C. until late Thursday night and Smith had already arranged a hotel room for Stephanie and me. I am not sure why, but I was surprised to find the room to be a single bedroom suite, instead of the two room suite that we’d had last time. I guess even the CIA knew the situation between Steph and I had changed. Since we’d lost all of our clothes and personal items in Hawaii, we spend most of the day shopping. Smith offered us a little bit of help there, but the majority of the funds came from my own personal account, with which Stephanie had a lot of fun. Stephanie insisted that I be her audience while she modeled all of the latest fashions for me. I think she was having a lot of fun watching my face as she told me what the prices were of the clothes she was wearing. It took me a while to realize that she was just having fun at my expense, because after all of the shows, the items she settled on, were always moderately priced, and reasonable attire.

Friday evening we had dinner with Smith, where he explained he did not want us coming to the detention center until Monday. He wanted to make sure all of the doctors were ready for us. That morning at nine am, a car was waiting for us in front of our hotel. There did not appear to be anything special about the car, standard four-door sedan with dark tinted windows. However, once we got inside, we discovered those tinted windows were really tinted windows, the kind you can’t see out of. There was also a glass divider between us and the driver, which was also completely black. Smith had warned us about this, as the location of the detention center was a very closely guarded secret.

The drive took just under an hour, and though there was plenty of light in the car, the last part of the trip began to feel pretty claustrophobic. When the car finally stopped, and the driver opened our door, we found ourselves in a fully enclosed, concrete parking garage with around fifteen similar cars parked in various places. The driver pointed to a nearby elevator door, then got back in the car and drove off, leaving us standing there watching after him. After a moment, Steph and I walked over to the elevator door and pressed the only button on the outside. A few minutes later, the elevator doors opened and we stepped inside. Trying to decide which floor, we needed to go too turned out not being an issue, as there were no floors to select from, actually, there were no buttons at all inside the elevator car. Once we stepped in, the doors closed and we could feel the elevator car starting a descent.

When the elevator door opened again, where had once been a cold concrete parking garage, now appeared a warm, softly light, well decorated office area, with two nice desks facing the elevator doors about five feet apart. Sitting at each of the desks was a man in a well-fitting suit and broad smiles. The only thing that could be considered out of place for any working office, were the two short barreled, black shotguns lying on each desk.

“Agent McNeil, Ms. Atkins, welcome to the Club,” one of the men greeted us with a large smile.

“The Club?” I asked.

“Just our pet name for the place,” the other man spoke while reaching out with two identification badges, “Mr. Smith has already been notified of your arrival and will be with you in a moment.”

“Don’t you guys want to check us for weapons or something?” I asked, a bit puzzled by the whole place.

“We already have, sir,” the first man answered again, “in the elevator.”

At that moment, the door behind the two desks opened and Smith enter the area. “Dan, Steph, come on back.”

We followed Smith through the door, which closed behind us, and into a long hallway that was broken up by doors on either side, all closed, none with names or markings on them. Smith stopped at the seventh or eighth door down the hall, softly knocked and opened the door and walked in, with us behind him. The room we entered was a well-appointed office with a moderate desk set against one wall with a bookcase behind it. In the middle of the room were four plush chairs positioned around a glass coffee table. Sitting at the desk was an older lady with white hair that curled just past her ears. She stood as we entered. She appeared to be only five three or five four, not heavy set but not skinny either, I guess the proper term would be full figured. Spotting a set of reading glasses attached to a gold chain around her neck, my first thought was of one of my high school English teachers.

“Barbra,” Smith spoke, “I would like to introduce you to Dan McNeil and Stephanie Atkins. Dan, Steph, this is Doctor Barbra Carson.”

Dr. Carson expressed a wide, smile as she approached us and the sparkling green eyes gave me the impression that at one time that white hair may have been red.

“Agent McNeil,” Dr. Carson greeted as she extended her hand, “May I call you Dan?”

I nodded as I took her hand.

Dr. Carson turned her attention to Stephanie, “Stephanie Atkins, I have read and heard so much about you. It is very much a pleasure to meet you.”

Stephanie returned one of her thousand watt smiles, “I hope, Dr. Carson, that some of what you heard is good?”

“Oh, please,” Dr. Carson laughed, “both of you, call me Barbra. Honestly, no, I can’t say that everything I have heard is good. You have had some very hard times, my Dear. I am amazed that you seem as well adjusted as you are.”

“I have had a very strong support group.” Stephanie answered, taking my hand.

“Yes, I understand that too, and actually, quite pleased to know it. However, right now, I would really like to have some time alone with you, my dear. I think there are a lot of things we need to talk about.”

Stephanie looked at me for a moment until I slightly nodded, which she responded to with a nod of her own, and let go of my hand.

“Very good,” Barbra exclaimed, “now if you gentlemen would excuse us for a while, we have some girl things to talk about.”

I exited the room and Smith closed the door as he came out. “I can’t tell you much, Dan. It does have to do with the drugs that you found in Stephanie’s luggage. I do not have the details, and hope I can get them to you later, doctor/patient type thing, but there was stuff in there that should not have been there. Barbra wants to talk to Stephanie about it.”

I had a thousand questions, but knew asking them right now would do me no good, so I just nodded in acceptance.

“In the meantime, there are a couple of people that I think you would be interested in talking to. Barbra will call me when they are done, and we can come back for Steph.”

Smith started walking further down the hall as I followed. We came to an intersection in the hall way that went both left and right with an identical looking hallways, with identical doors. If there were too many of these, this place could turn into an incredible maze. We turned left at the intersection and continued another four doors before stopping and repeating the knocking and entering process. The room we entered looked almost identical to the Barbra’s office, where I’d just left Stephanie, except in this case, there was no one sitting at the desk. Instead, sitting in one of the chairs around the coffee table, was Doctor Ivan Vasnev.

Vasnev looked different to me, like he had aged years in the few weeks since I had seen him. Instead of his normal cane, he had a metal frame walker sitting next to him, and the mischievous sparkle that I had always seen in his eyes, seemed to be missing.

“Come in, young man.” Ivan greeted us with a small smile. “Please, have a seat. I think there are some things we need to talk about.”

I sat in one of the chairs opposite Ivan; Smith sat in the one next to me. Ivan sat, studying his hands for a few minutes, as if attempting to compose his thoughts.

“First of all, I would like to offer an apology for what I think has been going on, and my apparent involvement in it.” Ivan said, without looking up from his hands.

“Ivan,” I interrupted, “tell me why I should even be listening to you, let alone believe anything you tell me?”

Ivan looked up at me, “Perhaps because I am still here?”

I nodded towards his walker, “Perhaps because you were not able to run with your wife.”

Ivan glanced at his walker then back to me, I could see the moisture in his eyes. “I could just be here to cause subterfuge and confusion?”

“Perhaps,” is all I said.

Ivan slowly nodded his head while returning his gaze to his hands. After a moment he returned his eyes to mine. “Young man, there is nothing I can say that would eliminate the doubts in your mind. Therefore, I can only tell you what I have to tell you, and then you will have to decide what to do with it.”

“Okay, I am listening.”

“I am afraid to say, that it appears the manipulation of our young Ms. Stephanie has continued far beyond what we expected. From what I have been able to uncover, my currently missing wife, who was Stephanie’s primary care giver, went to great lengths to keep some memories suppressed and certain response triggers in place. Vivian was also manipulating Stephanie’s emotions and thought processes in many areas.

“The reason the assassins were able to find you in Hawaii was due to a subconscious trigger that Vivian had implanted in Stephanie’s head. The trigger was simple, in that if Stephanie ever found herself somewhere that no one in Mr. Smith’s organization knew about, she would have an uncontrollable desire to call Vivian. When you went ‘off the grid’, so to speak, in Hawaii it triggered that impulse. The day after we heard of the failed attack, my wife disappeared.”

This is something I had pretty much suspected and was not greatly surprised to hear, however, I responded with the surprised raised eyebrow look.

Ivan continued, “What I suspect our Stephanie is hearing right now from Dr. Carson, is that the majority of the drugs that she had been taking, were not related to a medical condition, but a cocktail designed to keep her susceptible to suggestion and to lower her inhibitions to responding to those suggestions. In reality, she does need medication to help with kidney damage, blood pressure and thyroid damage, perhaps some anxiety and depression control, but that is all.“

Ivan sat quietly for a few moments, again watching his hands closely. “What I am going to tell you next is not something I can prove, only suspect, and I want you to consider that as I tell you. I may be totally off base here, but some of the evidence does support the theory. This could be quite painful for you, young man.”

Ivan looked up at me and held my gaze until I nodded my understanding and for him to continue.

“I am sorry to say, that there is a good possibility that some, if not all, of Stephanie’s emotions, responses and desires for you were manufactured by my wife.”

I was actually expecting something along those lines, but hearing the actual words was like being hit in the chest with a sledgehammer. Could it be the whole relationship was manipulated? I know my feelings are not, but I honestly don’t know about Stephanie’s. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.

“Dan,” Ivan continued, “I could be very wrong about this, but I know that Vivian and Stephanie had long talks about you and your relationship. I know Vivian spend a fair amount of time discussing it with me, and convincing me it was the best thing for Stephanie.”

“Why would she do that?” I asked, trying, but failing to keep the anxiety out of my voice.

Ivan sighed, “To keep Stephanie focused on something besides what happened to her, to cloud your judgment a little, to keep Stephanie in your confidence so she would have a better connection to the case, many possibilities.”

“So, what do I do now?”

“Same as before,” Ivan smiled, “follow your heart. If her love for you is real, then it will stay when the medication and suggestions are eliminated. She may discover new emotions or sensations that she will still need you to lean on. She is still going to need you though, maybe differently in some ways. I am sure that Dr. Carson will be changing her medication as of today, you will just have to go along and support where you can. I am really sorry for all of this, I truly am.”

We left Ivan in the office and Smith led me through another maze of hallways to a small cafeteria area, where we both had a cup of coffee, while we waited for the call from Dr. Carson. We picked a small corner table and after setting my coffee on the table, with both elbows on the table, I buried my face in my hands.

“My God,” I moaned, “what a roller coaster ride. I have no idea what is real anymore and what is not. I have no idea what other surprises are buried in Stephanie’s head or when they are going to come out. Now I find out the girl I fell in love with may not be the real person after all, though I kind of knew that risk existed.”

“Son,” Smith said, “I may be naíve or just plain stupid, but I can’t believe that everything that I have seen between the two of you was fabricated. There just seems to be too much there. Taking advice from me may be about as useful as an ice cube in a snowstorm, but keep the faith. The outcome may be different, but I still think there is more there. Don’t give up on her, or the two of you.”

Two hours and four cups of coffee later, the call finally came from Dr. Carson that we could stop by and pick up Stephanie. Smith led me back through the maze of hallways, a path that I would have needed bread crumbs to follow, until he reached the door he was looking for and knocked and then opened the door.

Barbra and Stephanie were sitting opposite each other in a similar setting to the one I met with Ivan in. Barbra rose to her feet as soon as we entered but Stephanie remained sitting, looking at a tissue in her hand. From the box of tissues on the table, and the half-full wastebasket next to her, I could tell that tears had been involved in this session. I watched as Stephanie continued to study the tissue she was holding. After a long moment, she dropped in the wastebasket, stood and straightened out her pants and then picked up her purse. Not once did she look up at us. She finally turned in our direction and made eye contact with me, holding it for a few moments. I did not see the normal sparkle or smile in her eyes that I was used to seeing. Her eyes were flat, unyielding and her face was expressionless.

After leaving Dr. Carson, Smith led us to another cafeteria where a box style sandwich lunch was being served. Lunch conversation was very light with Stephanie hardly saying a word. I kept fighting the urge to ask her if she was okay, to ask her to talk to me. I felt lost and confused. I tried to touch her hand once but she moved it away from me, without making eye contact or saying anything. I had this feeling I was losing her and needed to do something, but I had no idea what.

The rest of the day was spent with window tours of the surviving victims that were rescued in Manila. Through closed circuit cameras, we saw each of the four and received updates from Smith and the attending doctors. Three of the five had been identified through fingerprints, one being the victim that died. Notification of family was being delayed until more was understood of their condition and for what Smith called security reasons. He did not want this case in the national news, and returning three forced feminized men to their families would surely get media attention.

The conversations about families make me think of Stephanie even more. She had parents and a daughter that had no idea she was alive, nor had Stephanie made any mention of them since she was first found many months ago. Throughout the discussions, she gave no indication of interest, or had questions of her own family. She just focused on the television monitors and studied the victims while the rest of us talked. Occasionally, someone would ask her a question, and that question always had to be repeated, as if she were not listening, or really didn’t care what was being discussed. Her answers were always short, brief and disinterested.

Later that evening, it was only the two of us at dinner, but conversation was pretty much limited to what the menu selections were. I tried to engage her in conversations about the victims, the weather or if I should wear a pink shirt with purple feathers, and in each case she would just smile politely while continuing to study her water glass or her dinner plate. She did tell me that Barbra made an appointment for her the next day with a series of doctors. She wanted Stephanie to have a complete physical, including blood work and an MRI, but even Stephanie’s telling me of this was more like talking to herself than to me.

As the day came to an end, I had finished my personal preparations and reclined in bed, with my hands behind my head, staring at the ceiling while Stephanie was still in her bathroom. I was not sure what to expect tonight, and was even a little surprised that Stephanie had not asked for her own room, based on the way she had been acting all afternoon. After a few minutes, the door to her bathroom opened and Stephanie walked to her side of the bed, wearing a similar long nightgown to the one she wore our first night in the same bed. She sat on the edge of the bed for a moment before lying back on her pillows, looking at the ceiling.

The space between us felt like miles as we lay there quietly for about 10 minutes while I fought the urge to beg her to talk to me. I had to keep my focus on the ceiling or I knew I would lose that fight. I felt a movement in the bed next to me, but did not turn to look. I felt the closeness of her body and the weight her head on my shoulder, as she reached across me with her right arm and hugged my chest, I instinctively moved my right arm around her shoulders.

“Do you think the only reason I feel so good in your arms is because someone programmed me to feel that way?” came the soft whisper from my chest.

“I don’t know,” I whispered back, “I hope not.”

“Me too. Do you think the only reason I love you so much is because someone told me I was supposed to?”

“Again, I don’t know, but I hope not. No one told me what to think and I know I love you.”

“I hope not too,” Stephanie responded and was quiet for a few minutes. “Right at this moment, I love you will all my heart, and I am terrified that I will wake up one day and find that was all a feeling that someone created for me I don’t know how I would deal with that”.

I had to think for a few minutes about how I was feeling, “I am afraid of the same thing, Steph, and I am not sure how I would deal with it either. However, I can’t let that consume me or I will not enjoy what I have right now. We will deal with what we have to deal with tomorrow; right now I just want to enjoy having you in my arms.”