It always started with nausea. Just a slight twinge of it in his upper stomach, accompanied by tightness in the back of his neck. If the situation continued, he could develop a full-blown headache and be unable to eat anything for fear of throwing up. This was Joseph’s body’s way of experiencing stress.

Usually he avoided this by action. He’d learned now to address most situations where things weren’t going right: find out what you can do to affect it, and then do it. Joseph was determined anymore not to just let life happen to him, but to address it, influence it, control it when possible.

But this. This situation was beyond him right now. Because he’d given away a measure of control when he agreed to carpool with Alan Sarkisian on this trip. Now they were going to be late getting off. All Joseph could do was wait in his idling PT Cruiser parked at the entrance to Alan’s apartment. Wait, and feel his stomach start to flip-flop in the cold Missoula, Montana morning.

It wouldn’t be such an issue, lateness. After all, it’s not like it was a workday. Both of them were on vacation. But the drive was going to be long, and both of them had people expecting them, and the forecast had predicted snow tonight. And it was Christmas Eve….

I should know better. Why does it seem like whenever I agree to go out of my way to help someone, I end up regretting it? Is everybody out there unreliable, or do I just choose the wrong people, Joseph thought. Maybe my “chooser” is broken.

Alan Sarkisian rushed around his apartment in a furtive dash to do some last minute packing. He really should have done it the night before, but he’d gotten in so late. Sleeping through his alarm didn’t help either. It was Joe’s cell phone call at 6:40 this morning that had awoken him — 10 minutes after their agreed upon departure time. Now it was 6:58.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!” Alan cursed himself as he looked for his dental floss. He used to be able to get by fine on five hours of sleep. But he was fifty-one now, and knew better. He knew better. Always trying to get a little more done. It would be okay if his day were messed up by waking up late with too little rest — but now he was messing up his friend’s day too.

Well, actually, they weren’t friends. Joseph O’Donnell had just offered to give Alan a ride to where he was going for the Christmas holidays, since he was driving by there anyway. Alan needed to save money, and a solo drive to Helena was going to cost a bit. A mutual contact at the pharmaceutical firm Alan and Joseph worked at realized that their travel destinations were close together - why not ride together and split the gas money?

So Alan approached Joseph at work and proposed the trip. Joseph had been hesitant — he knew Sarkisian from passing in the hall and from company parties, but that was it. And he preferred to drive alone. But he saw that Alan needed his help, so he agreed.

The partnership was getting off to a bad start.

~o~O~o~

“Come on, come on, c’mon, c’mon” muttered Joseph, twiddling his fingers on the steering wheel. He stared up at the second floor door, hoping for any movement. As if glaring at it would cause it to open magically, with a readied and packed Alan exiting. He glanced at the console clock. 7:01. Time for a second phone call.

Alan’s cell phone rang. He saw the caller ID.

“Hey there — almost ready — I’m putting you on speakerphone so I can keep both hands free and finish up here — I’m really sorry, I’ll be out in less than 5 minutes.”

“Alan — is there something I can do to help? We really, really need to get on the road.”

Alan looked at the disaster zone that was his dwelling. If Joe saw this mess, then he would have an even lower opinion of him than currently. “NO. No, no — thanks, but I don’t know what you could do — really, just 3 minutes, Joe.”

Joseph sighed as he hung up. He really didn’t like the shortened version of his name. He had told Alan — like he told anyone on first meeting them — to call him Joseph, please. Most would comply, but this guy seemed to not get the message. “Joe” sounded too… rough. Plain. Too informal. Too macho.

“3 minutes. Riiight,” whispered Joseph; then he thought, never trust a salesman. Alan worked in sales, and was one of the better ones, per the office grapevine. Joseph much preferred the Information Technology department. You could trust I.T. people to tell the truth. He snickered at his thoughts — the “department”. He WAS the I.T. department. The company wasn’t that big.

Alan finally came through the door with his suitcase. He clip-clip-clipped down the stairs to show he was hurrying. Joseph clicked the rear hatchback button. Alan threw his bag in with a loud thump and reached to pull down the hatch.

“I got it — it closes automatically,” said Joseph, pushing the button. Alan came around and got in the front passenger seat, rubbing his hands and blowing into them.

“WHEW! Cold enough for you, Joe?”

“Alan. Please, call me Joseph. I don’t like the name Joe.”

“Right! Right. Yes, now I remember. Sorry, Joseph. Cold morning, huh?” Alan was smiling, but internally he grimaced. That was a faux pas. If this were a pharmacy or a doctor’s office, he would have already blown the sale.

Joseph didn’t immediately answer. He was focused on entering the street. Safe driving was a priority for him, because it was the correct thing to do. He wouldn’t use the phone behind the wheel, and preferred not to talk when doing things that required more concentration, like left turns or merging into traffic. It was good feng shui for his life, living in order and balance.

Alan looked at Joseph. Was he just ignoring him? No, it looked like he was concentrated on the road. He took a good long look at his driver. Joseph seemed a little odd in appearance. At work he looked thin, like a beanpole, though the last year at work it seemed that Joe wore more layers of baggy clothing, even indoors. Maybe he was become more “cold natured”. Kept his long brown hair in a low ponytail like those Gen X’ers tended to do. He had a really recessed chin. Pale skin; these I.T. guys, do they ever get out in the sun? His speech was focused, but soft. Brown studs, one in each ear. This guy would never make it in sales.

Alan caught himself. Sizing up people — it was a reflex. All good salesmen did it in assessing customers. It worked good to determine how to approach a deal. The problem was, if you did it outside of work, you could end up jumping to wrong conclusions about people. Everyday life and relationships were more than just a sales call.

Now they were on the road, headed out to the interstate. Joseph could finally reply. “Yes, it’s quite cold. Supposed to hit well below freezing tonight — there’s heavy snow being predicted. That’s one reason why we needed to leave early.”

Alan winced.

“But, that’s OK, Alan. I still think there’s plenty of time; we’ll need to get a fast food lunch, and eat on the way.” Joseph glanced a conciliatory smile to his passenger. They were going to be together all day; they ought to try to get along. Even though things started off lousy.

Stop light. Alan was talking on his cell phone, so Joseph took the opportunity to evaluate his passenger. He looked probably fifteen to twenty years older than Joseph’s age of thirty-three. A little overweight, probably by at least forty pounds, but his shoulders were so wide it hung on him fairly well. Black mustache, well trimmed, and thinning salt and pepper hair brushed straight back. A toothy smile. Probably six foot even — an inch taller than himself. He looked a little too slick, like a politician or a used car dealer.

Stop it. Joseph chided himself. You’re so into appearances, and for good reason. But you — especially you — should know not to judge a book by its cover. Keep an open mind.

Alan broke the silence. “So. Tell me about yourself”.

There it was. Joseph felt the slight nausea again.

“I do information tech at the firm.”

“Okay…knew that. Where did you go to school?”

“Are you always this inquisitive? I don’t like to talk a lot about myself. Why don’t you tell me about yourself instead?”

Alan was dumbstruck. Most people loved to talk about themselves. That’s how you got them to warm up to you in sales. Not that he was trying to sell anything right now, just trying to be friendly. Maybe if he opened up first, Joseph would feel more at ease.

“OK, about me. I was born in St. Augustine, Florida-”

“Florida! How did you end up here in Missoula, Montana?”

“Whoa there, sport. Haven’t gotten to that yet. I just got through with my birth, remember?” Alan chuckled. “But if you must know, the life of a salesman can take you far and wide. I’ve been in pharmaceutical sales for the last 18 years, most with Forza.”

“Forza? Third largest drug maker in the world Forza?”

“The same.”

“Why did you quit them?”

“Ah…. I didn’t quit. I was downsized.”

“Oop…oh, I’m so sorry. That was careless of me.” Joseph’s cheeks turned bright red.

“No problem. It happens. Their stock had dropped, and they needed to cull the herd. Sales necks are usually first on the chopping block. I was a good producer for them, I was just one of the older guys, I guess.”

“Too old? But you’re just...”

“Fifty-one. Old, for a drug salesman. But I’m a good fit with Marcam. I’ve really enjoyed the last 4 years here. My family’s had the hardest adjustment. San Diego was a lot bigger... and a LOT warmer… than Missoula is.”

He has a family? But he lives in a small apartment. From where I was, it didn’t look bigger than a one bedroom. Joseph wondered about that, but didn’t want to ask a second embarrassing question.

Maybe now that I’ve told him a little about me, he’ll open up a little, Alan figured. “Where were you born, Joseph?”

After a long pause: “Here in Missoula. I’m a lifer here, so far. Even went to U of M.” That was more than he’d planned to ever tell Alan. He figured he’d stop there.

After 3 more blocks of silence, Joseph spoke up again. “How is your family, Alan?”

“Last I heard, my wife Lacy and our twins are fine.” (Sigh) He saw that I live in an economy apartment. Might as well spill the beans. “We’re newly divorced. Lacy and the girls still live in the house, and I — well, you know where I live.”

“You’re there alone?”

“Yeah, I just said Lacy - oh, you mean do I have another woman living there with me? No. There was never another woman, and there is no other woman now.”

“I didn’t mean — I just was meaning, it sounded lonely.”

“Well, it can be. But it’s not impossible. You live alone, don’t you Joseph?”

“Yeah, but I’m used to it; I like it that way,” Joseph lied. “You’ve been married for a while, I’m assuming, and now — boom. Alone. And by the way, how did you find out I live alone? Who’s been talking to you about me?”

“No one.” Alan felt a little frustrated. “You always come stag to the Christmas party. And leave early. Look, I didn’t get enough sleep last night. You mind if I try shutting my eyes a little?”

It was a welcome suggestion. Both could feel the uneasy tension in the car. There was silence as they pulled onto Interstate 90, headed towards the intersection with I-15.

~o~O~o~

Joseph noticed the conditions. It hadn’t snowed in 3 weeks, and the road was dry and clear. The sky was blue and the sun was out. 34 degrees, per his smart phone earlier. He looked over at his passenger. He was asleep, his seat leaned back slightly, head against the side glass, a faint snore occasionally leaking out the back of his throat.

Maybe he’ll sleep most of the trip. That would be a relief. Joseph shook his head. He hadn’t meant to sound condescending or suspicious earlier. Yet he was sure he had. He’d refused to open up any of his own life, yet somehow had gotten into some embarrassing details of Alan’s. How had it gotten so weird so fast?

I can’t even achieve a normal, simple conversation. On top of everything else, I’m a social misfit too. I need to be exiled to the island of misfit people.

About seven miles after getting on I-90, trouble hit. As the PT Cruiser peaked over a rise in the road, huge pieces of shredded tire appeared on the asphalt. A trucker had likely blown one of his big tires, or a retread had come untreaded. Joseph was unable to adjust in time, and his left front hit the debris.

BLAM!

“WHOA! What happened??” spurted Alan, jarred awake.

“I think I blew a tire,” Joseph grunted through clenched teeth, fighting the steering wheel. The Cruiser was now a wild bronco, bucking to the left. It veered onto the white lane stripes, almost sideswiping a passing minivan. Joseph hit the brakes and fishtailed wildly while trying to force the beast to the right shoulder.

Finally, the car relented and came to rest. Both of the men’s hearts were racing. Joseph was still gripping the steering wheel tight, and Alan wiped his forehead.

“Whew! You know, the next time you need for me to wake up from a nap, just kick me.”

“I didn’t do that on purpose.”

“I’M KIDDING. Let’s get out and look at the damage.”

Alan whistled as he examined the shredded rubber hanging off the wheel. “Boy — it’s toast. Um… I hope you have a full size spare, and not one of those mini-tires.”

“No, it’s full size, although it’s not a snow tread like this one was. I still have three other snow tires on, though.”

“Well, let’s get to changing then. Where’s the jack stored on-”

“I’ll take care of it. My car, my responsibility.”

“I’d be happy to help.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

Nearly an hour later, Joseph was finally tightening the last nut on the spare. “There,” he puffed. “I (pant)… told you I’d (pant)… get it on.”

“I didn’t think you couldn’t. I just thought we’d get done faster if I… never mind.”

“Well (puff)…” said Joseph, lowering the jack, “we’re good to go, as they say.”

“Uhhh… are we?” Alan pointed to the spare as the car settled to the ground.

It was almost completely flat.

“Oh God,” Joseph flustered with embarrassment.

“I don’t believe in god. But if you do, maybe you should have been asking him for help before now. Or are you too proud to even do that?” Alan walked away, angrily.

Respite finally came in the form of a pickup truck that mercifully stopped. It was a local rancher who had an air pump that plugged into his power socket. Nearly three hours after the blowout, the PT Cruiser finally got back on the road.

~o~O~o~

There was more emotional friction now than ever, Joseph could sense. He glanced over at his travel companion, who sat silent, face turned away, looking out the side window.

“I’m sorry I blew out the tire.”

“No problem. Wasn’t your fault.”

“I’m also sorry about the spare being low on air. The oil change place is supposed to make sure the tires are aired, including the spare… I was just there last week.”

“No problem, Joseph. Stuff happens.”

“I made us get three hours behind. All that after me being frustrated with you this morning.”

“You also told me then that it was OK, so don’t worry about it.”

“I’m sorry that-”

“Joseph! Stop apologizing! We’re on our way, and that’s what matters! Let’s just get there.”

Joseph swallowed dryly. This is the stuff he was not great at. He hated conflict. But if the trip went on this way, he’d have a killer migraine and be vomiting before they got there.

“Alan. Please, hear me out. I was really rude to you, I feel, when you were trying to make conversation earlier. I didn’t want to tell you anything about me, so I deflected the conversation to you — and then, it got uncomfortable, and I didn’t mean for it to. I don’t know how it got there, but it did. And then I didn’t let you help me change tires, when it would have gone quicker if I had. Um… I acted like a jerk.”

Alan looked at his driver. “Yeah. Somewhat.”

“I’m uncomfortable with… I mean, when anyone wants to get to know me…” He sighed. Talking like this was hard. “I have trouble trusting people. Even a little.”

Alan’s interest was piqued. “Why do you think that is?”

“Stuff. That’s happened.”

“What kind of stuff? …You want to talk about it? I’m a great listener.”

“I… don’t know if I can talk about it.”

“Ah. Because you have trust issues with me?”

“With almost everybody. Except for one really good friend. That’s why I’m going to spend Christmas with her.”

“That sounds romantic.”

“She’s not a girlfriend. She’s a friend friend. Who’s a girl. (sigh) You know what I mean.”

“You know what you did just now?” Alan smiled.

“What?”

“You opened up to me about your life. That right there shows you’re taking a chance, trying to make a connection. Not too bad, for a guy with trust issues.”

“Huh… I guess so.”

“And by the way, apologies accepted.”

~o~O~o~

Alan looked at his smartphone. He loved map apps. “Okay, Joseph. As requested, I have our new arrival time.”

“What are we looking at?”

“We’ll hit Helena about 10 tonight, if we stop for nothing but gas.”

Joseph fretted. “It’ll have been snowing for a while by then, according to the forecast. I really wanted to avoid that.”

“You know, Highway 12 is coming up. That cuts straight through to Helena. We avoid that big loop south; it would cut more than three hours off our trip.”

“But… that takes us off the interstate.”

“I’ve traveled through there before. It’s a little hilly, but we should get through by six o’ clock. That’s when the snow starts, right?”

“But… I trust the interstate.”

Alan grinned his toothy grin. “Trust issues, huh?”

Joseph laughed. “Yeah. You know me — Paranoid Pete. You say you’ve traveled it?”

“Yes. Twice. Good road, no problems.”

“You’ve traveled it in winter?”

“YES. And there’s been no precip in this part of the state for weeks, so it should be clear. Now, there aren’t many places to get food or gas, but if you’ll fill up at the station near the intersection, we’ll be fine.”

“Hmmm. Well, OK. I’m TRUSTING you, now. That’s a big thing for me.”

“Your action of trust has been duly noted, sir, and entered into the record. Here comes the Highway 12 turn off up ahead.”

CHAPTER 2

Joseph filled up his gas tank at the truck stop by the intersection, while Alan went inside and bought a few refrigerated sandwiches and some beef jerky. The cashier was in a good mood, even though she was working on Christmas Eve. He gave one of the sandwiches to his young driver, checked the spare on the left front — it was still well inflated — and they took off on Highway 12.

They rose in elevation, and far off mountain peaks came in close. The road was clean as Alan had predicted, and the scenery was turning impressive. Tree lines nestled in the wrinkles of the hills. Snow from earlier in the month had lingered, and despite the car’s heater the men felt the dropping temperature seep through the windows and tickle their shoulders, then their arms.

Joseph stopped so he could get out and put his heavy coat on, and Alan did the same. “I apologize that the Cruiser seems to let the cold leak in,” said Joseph as he pulled a thick knit beanie down over his ears. “This is so beautiful up here!”

“See what you can experience when you go off the beaten track a bit?” Alan took a deep sniff of the biting air. “I can’t believe you’ve never been this way before. And you’ve lived here all your life!”

“I’ve been missing out. I just never have been a big outdoors guy.”

Both hopped back in the car and the ride resumed.

“I learned to love the outdoors when my family moved to Colorado when I was five,” reminisced Alan. “I joined the boy scouts, and we did a lot of camping and other trips. The badges — that was my obsession for a while. My favorite time ever was a winter scouting retreat where they taught us survival skills. We learned fire starting, smoke signaling, ice fishing… it was so cool. It made me dream of living like Jeremiah Johnson when I grew up.”

“Jerewho?”

“Old Robert Redford movie? A classic? Runs on the old movies channels from time to time?”

Joseph flashed him a bewildered smile as he shook his head and shrugged.

Alan faked a faint. “WHAT? We’ve got to get you cultured, boy!”

“I like older movies! I just haven’t seen that one. Is it really old, like black and white?”

“Ow! Speaking of old, you sure know how to make a guy feel that way. Yuh gol-durned whippersnapper.”

They both burst out laughing at that. Joseph guffawed until he had tears. It had been years since he’d done that.

“So,” said Joseph as he wiped his eyes, “ah…heh…you were a scout? Did you make it all the way to eagle?”

“Yes. Yes, I did.”

“Wow. You must have made your family proud. Do you do anything with the BSA today?”

Alan turned suddenly wistful. “No. Unfortunately. I haven’t even done any camping or hiking in decades. About the main wilderness experience I get these days is just driving through it. I’ve sunk most all my time and energy into my work for the last 25 — 30 years.” He drew a long sigh. “You know, I loved being an Eagle Scout. I knew I was going to live my life using all those skills and principles that I learned. It was who I was. I wish that still were so sometimes.”

Joseph grew surprised at Alan’s new demeanor. He sounded regretful.

“You mean… you still wish you were a boy scout?”

“Not that I wish I was a teenager. Acne, stupidity, and social cliques? No thanks, one puberty was enough. I mean that I wanted to take my scouting activities into adulthood.”

“And your work got in the way?”

“The type of work is fine — I love it, in fact. It’s the amount of time I invest in work that’s got me out of the groove. It’s not just work, either. It’s a whole bunch of other things, many related to the reasons I divorced Lacy. I just haven’t… lived my life the way I thought I would. It just got away from me.” He sighed. “I can’t even remember any of that survival stuff I learned. And I have a salesman’s photographic memory.”

After a little silence, Joseph cleared his throat. “You know, I was a scout for a little bit.”

“No kidding!” Alan was glad to shift the focus off him.

“Yeah. I barely started Webelos. But I quit.”

“You didn’t like scouting?”

“Actually, I did. The scouting part, that is. I still remember the knots and some of the other things I was taught. And I loved making my wooden racing car. I just didn’t like my fellow scouts.”

“Why?”

“I was ridiculed, and bullied a lot by the other guys. Especially one kid, bigger than the rest of us; he was the den mother’s son. So angelic when mom or dad was around; then when unsupervised, he became Hellboy. Like, a bad guy Hellboy. If Hellboy had become a regular demon instead of joining forces for good…”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Joseph glanced over. Alan had a joyful smirk.

“Yeah, you’re right. You ARE old,” Joseph needled.

“Whatever! Nerdy sci-fi lovin’ I.T. guy.”

“Black-and-white movie watchin’ slick sales dude!”

They both cracked up again.

~o~O~o~

The banter continued at a brisk pace. Joseph discovered that his passenger actually had been familiar with the Hellboy movies, and loved to watch good sci-fi / fantasy / superhero shows, just like him. Alan discovered that Joseph liked classic rock and pop from the 60’s through the 80’s, and even had a small collection of vinyl LP’s by the Beatles and Led Zeppelin, complete with turntable to play them.

Alan began to notice that he actually felt a kinship with his young companion. He’d not had a connection like this with another single person — definitely not with one this much younger than him — in a long time. All of his other friends were married, and getting with them seemed awkward after he’d filed for divorce; most couldn’t see why he had done it, and their wives seemed to now label Alan as a “leaver”. But this — this was nice. He felt energized. He felt… youthful.

Joseph realized something as they talked away: he had no tightness in his neck, and no hint of upset stomach. He was laughing out loud repeatedly. When was the last time… heck, had he ever done that? He surprisingly found he really liked Alan’s company. Even more amazing, Alan seemed to like him. Not since childhood had he had a good male friendship. He had acquaintances to be sure, but no bosom buddy. In fact, in his experience when any guy got to really know him they became indifferent, or worse, uncomfortable or disgusted. With this man, he sensed a strange, alien feeling starting to arise in him.

He was beginning to trust.

~o~O~o~

Time seemed to fly as they headed up Highway 12. Only one hour from Helena, though, their plan hit a major roadblock.

An actual roadblock.

A policeman had his car parked across the road, with orange cones in front spanning from shoulder to shoulder. He was motioning for them to… make a U-turn? Joseph rolled down his window as the car came to a halt.

“What’s up, officer?”

The cop walked up to them. “Sorry guys, you’ll have to turn back. We’ve had a tanker truck — a big 18-wheeler — overturn up ahead. Happened about 45 minutes ago. Toxic chlorine gas. We got a HAZMAT team coming, but we won’t open up this stretch here for at least one or two more days. We’re already closing the road in this direction all the way back to I-90.”

Both men in the PT were stunned. They would have to go all the way back to the interstate, nearer to Missoula than Helena!

Joseph turned around as instructed, then promptly pulled off on the shoulder to gather his thoughts. Don’t panic; attack the problem. Think. There’s a solution out there. Despite this brave logic, his stomach began twisting into more knots than he ever learned as a Webelos.

Alan was looking at the map app on his phone. He spoke softly and meekly. “There’s no way to make Helena tonight. We can find a motel back at the interstate… or just go back home, even. Buddy, I’m so sorry for suggesting this route. This has turned out horribly.”

“Alan, the coming snow is predicted to go on for all night. We may not be able to go very far or fast even on I-90 and I-15 tomorrow. It’s not like this car is a Jeep or a Hummer high off the ground with 4-wheel drive. This could threaten the whole trip happening at all!”

Joseph now felt a steel claw gripping his neck muscles and creeping up the back of his head. He pulled out his phone and looked on his own maps there. After a minute, he showed the screen to Alan. “See this winding road here? We passed that a few miles back. It looks like it twists around a bit, and it may add another two hours, but it would spit us out right on I-15 about twenty miles from Helena.”

“I’ve never driven that. It doesn’t look like a major road. And it might start snowing before we get off it.” Alan regarded the choices, and their consequences. He had to be in Helena on December 26th. Otherwise, that new job offer was lost. He hadn’t disclosed to anyone about that purpose for this trip, and he definitely wasn’t going to tell his coworker here. “But… if you’re up for it, I’m with you.”

Joseph put the Cruiser in gear. If this was the plan, they needed to get moving. “Okay — here we go.”

~o~O~o~

An hour into the new route, both men began having misgivings. This road not only was narrower and convoluted, but it ascended higher and higher in altitude. They had not seen another car since they started on it. Instead of just patches, the snow now coalesced into a steady layer all around, and at times stretched across their drive path. The cold was incredible — Alan felt his fingers stick to the window temporarily when he felt to test the temperature. And flakes were now falling from the darkening sky.

Joseph was driving slower; this swerving road had no shoulder. As he rounded a right curve, he saw that they were dipping into a tiny valley between hill peaks. What he then saw ahead to his left shocked him. “Look at that small lake — it’s frozen!”

He realized that this way was much more dangerous than he’d calculated. If it had been frigid deep and long enough up here to ice a pond over already, then that meant that ice could be covering major stretches of the road up ahead. Or snow banks blocking their way. Or — who knows what. The landscape, so beautiful most of the trip, now seemed threatening.

Alan was obviously fretting, chewing on the fringe of his mustache with his lower teeth. He reached down to make sure his seatbelt was indeed clicked in fully. He looked at his driver. “Do we need to consider waving the white flag and going back?”

Joseph began to obviously cry. So much for his Christmas plans. “DAMMIT!” He sniffed loud and wet. “I’ll turn around, just let me hit a wider stretch,” as he approached a right hairpin twist. “S-sorry. It’s this blasted headaAAAAAHH!-”

The huge bull elk in the road wasn’t visible until he’d entered the turn.

He slammed on the brake and the Cruiser went into a spin. Unbelievably, they whirled by the implacable beast without making contact. But then the car slipped off the left bank of the road and slid down the slope towards the frozen lake.

Joseph tried to steer and point the nose downhill to avoid going into a roll, but control was impossible. They hit the lake bank at a high speed, flipping then slamming the PT onto its side and they slid onto and over the ice, gliding sixty feet from the shore before grinding to a stop.

~o~O~o~

Alan shook his head. He was… alive. But what happened… where were they? He heard the ‘click-click’ of the turn signal, and the ‘ding-ding-ding’ of the check engine warning. Something was pressing in hard on his waist. He was trapped. Things didn’t look right. Where was he??

In just a few seconds, he reoriented. They were still in the car… it was turned on its left. He was held by his seat belt, with his head and torso hanging down towards the driver’s side. He turned… his head was about a foot from Joseph, who was wincing and slowly moaning as he lay on his door. Alan could see a blue-gray solid color out Joseph’s window. What was that?

Then a crack appeared on the color, and water seeped through and kissed the window. That was…

WE’RE OVER THE WATER!

Alan adrenalized with that. We’ve got to get out! What do I…

Suddenly in his mind appeared words on a page.

“Remove the occupant(s) from immediate danger.”

Alan moved quickly and with purpose. He unlatched his door and pushed it ajar, keeping it from closing by pushing with his right foot. He then unclicked Joseph’s seat belt and grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Wake up, buddy! I’m lifting you out of the car — we’re on the ice, and we’re falling through!”

“Okay.” That news focused the young man some.

With a mighty heave Alan lifted him towards the door. Once there, Joseph pushed it open and climbed out.

“Get off of the car and away from the cracks,” yelled Alan, now grabbing the roof of the Cruiser with his right hand while undoing his seat belt with the other, readying himself to exit.

He pulled himself out of the door and onto the right side of the car, which was essentially its top now. Joseph was on the ice, crawling to the rear of the PT, out towards the center of the small lake.

He turned his head back to Alan. “This way!”

As Alan quickly, gently, lowered himself to the ice, he glanced towards the front end of the car. Big fissures were developing there. He got on his stomach so to not focus all his weight on just two feet. He crawled the opposite direction from the cracks. As he shuffled he kept his head down, focusing on moving as fast as he could. After 30 feet he looked up towards Joseph-

But Joseph wasn’t there.

He looked back. The young one had stopped at the rear hatch and was pulling out their suitcases.

“Joseph! Drop and get over here! If you fall through that ice, you’re dead!”

“We’ll both be dead of exposure tonight if we don’t have more covering!” hissed Joseph.

The I.T. man shoved one bag towards Alan. It skittered across the frost. Then he grabbed the big suitcase he had packed last night. He braced his feet against the car, and with a loud “Gyaaah!” pushed it the same direction as the first case.

The effort made Joseph’s feet slide out from under him. He lost his balance and belly flopped on the ice, slamming his small chin on the surface.

Fissures suddenly appeared all around the PT Cruiser and Joseph. He was dazed, but not so much that he didn’t realize what was happening. A look of terror encased his face, as Alan watched helplessly. The Cruiser pitched towards its roof as water mixed with floating ice materialized in a split second over the whole area. And in that split second, Joseph was gone.

A hushed quiet came over the lake, as Alan was alone. He was screaming — or trying, but no sound would come out.

CHAPTER 3

Alan shuffled frenetically on his hands and knees towards the ice hole. The PT Cruiser, with hatch open, turn signal blinking, was taking on water and sinking rapidly. By the time the older man was to the edge, he figured 15 — 20 seconds had passed. Still no sign of Joseph. He looked into the dark water but couldn’t see a thing — there was scant daylight left.

He’s stuck under the ice, and can’t find the hole, Alan figured. He didn’t know what to do. So he silently did something he hadn’t done in decades.

God, if you are there, I know thirty-five years ago my last words to you were that I was through with you and you didn’t exist. I hope I was wrong, because Joseph needs you. Please be real, and please guide him to the hole. Don’t do it for me, do it for him. Please, save my friend. I’ll do whatever it takes. If someone has to die today, let it be me. But save my friend. Please. Please.

Joseph was still dazed some when he went under, and didn’t close his mouth. He inhaled ice-cold liquid, and reflexively spasmed multiple coughs to eject it. But now his lungs were empty, and he needed air. He swam up but promptly hit a solid wall. He realized he was trapped.

Please God, save him. Please.

Joseph punched the ice futilely. It was inky black. He started crawling along in one direction, hoping it was the right one. Visions of his life started passing through his mind…

Please. Alan was bawling openly. PLEASE!

Suddenly Joseph noticed off to his right — a blinking light, faintly. Just a few blinks, then it stopped. What was that… - the Cruiser! The hole is in that direction!

Please. Ple-

Joseph’s head emerged through the hole, gasping, and then heaving with wet, deep coughs.

“JOSEPH! Over here!” Alan was still choking back sobs, but he was overjoyed to see that skinny face.

Joseph, however, was not trying to get out. He was still choking and coughing. He looked too weak to swim. Alan thought he might have to jump in to get him. Then another page popped in his head.

“Extend a rope or pole or any similar device to the victim.”

Alan realized — his belt! He quickly unfastened it and pulled it out of his pant loops. Thank God I have a 44-inch waist, thought Alan for the first time ever. He then held on to one end, throwing the buckle end to his wet buddy. It fell right in front of Joseph.

“Get it!”

The young man did so, with one hand and then the other. Alan pulled him to the edge, all the way to where half of Joseph’s torso was out. Alan then grabbed his hands and pulled him most of the rest of the way out. While doing so, he noticed more cracks forming.

“Once out of the water, the victim should lie flat and roll away from the opening.”

“Joseph — stay flat on your belly and stretched out! Roll away from the hole!”

Joseph did so, slowly, continuing to cough mightily. Alan rolled away also. They stopped twenty feet from any further danger. Joseph was still coughing, so hard and deep that he had to throw up right there. Alan noticed his friend was drenched, and starting to shiver. The snow was coming down in thick clumps now, and the daylight was almost gone.

Okay, God, I’m going to ask you to save us both now. Help me find shelter, pronto. He looked towards the road. But going back there means going near the hole, no thanks. He turned to the opposite shore, looking for a tunnel, or a pipe, or a deep snow bank, or something he could use. But all he saw was low brush and trees. And more snow coming down. He looked through the tree line for a cave opening or an overhang. What’s that straight surface there? Too linear for an outcropping… is that…

A roof?!

He focused his eyes through the trees.

A roof.

~o~O~o~

“C’mon, Joseph… walk, man! Move! Get that body heat rising!”

Alan had his belt looped around the two suitcases and through the buckle, dragging them behind them with his left arm. With his right, he pulled a retching, still-barking Joseph, whose shivering was turning into jerking spasms. Between the coughing and the shaking, he was not making good walking progress.

“I’m…(kaff, kaff, wheeze)… t-trying…”

Alan saw the cabin outline before them, maybe 50 yards away now. He was breathing hard and deep; every inhalation of the freezing air felt like it burned his lungs. But he kept moving, one more step, one foot in front of the other. Almost there.

He then felt his friend’s hand pull out of his. He turned to see Joseph on the ground, in a fetal position. For a second it looked like the young one was having an epileptic seizure, but then Alan realized it was just the cold rigors worsening to a violent state.

“Jos… get up! Hey — can you hear me? Joseph?”

The fallen man made no attempt to speak or look at Alan. He just began to moan lowly, which sounded like rhythmic gulps due to the shakes.

He’s dying — dead in minutes if I can’t warm him up! This shocking realization gave Alan new energy. He picked up Joseph and laid him over his right shoulder. Leaving the bags and belt behind, he bounded towards the house. He got there with his trousers beginning to slip off of his butt and down to his thighs. If we survive, I’m not telling Reader’s Digest I lost my pants.

The solid wood door of the A-frame log cabin was locked tight. So were the windows, but Alan put on his gloves from his coat pockets and punched through a pane, then unlocked the latch. He pushed Joseph through, then ducked in and closed the window behind him.

It was now dark outside, and pitch black inside the cabin. Alan pulled up his pants and picked from his shirt pocket one of the combo penlight/pens marked “Marcam Pharmaceuticals” that he gave out as marketing freebies to doctors and pharmacists. Using the dim penlight glow, he quickly looked around. There was one main large room, with a fireplace and couch on one end, a kitchen area on the other. A loft spanned over one half of the room, above the kitchen. He found a light switch and flicked it on; there was no response. Likewise, the stove and refrigerator were both empty and powerless, and the thermostat did nothing when he turned it to “heat”.

No juice — dammit! Alan figured whoever owned the cabin had powered it down for the winter. He could search for a breaker box, but he was losing precious seconds as Joseph was dwindling. He ran through an open door and found a small bedroom with a king bed, bedcovers and blankets; an attached bathroom had two thick towels folded and on the counter. Bingo!

He grabbed Joseph and carried him to the bedroom, as he recalled pages from his Eagle Scout survival manual on how to treat hypothermia. He quickly laid out open as many blankets he could find over the bed. He put Joseph on the floor, grabbed the towels, and started to strip the wet clothing off. Holding his tiny light in his teeth, he took off his own gloves then unbuttoned Joseph’s coat, then flannel under jacket, then shirt, then pulled off his shoes and pants and underpants. He dried the young one’s skin as he disrobed him. Joseph still had a t-shirt on — Man, this guy really dresses in layers — so he pulled that off. There was still something yet underneath that — a stretchy Ace bandage wrapped around Joseph’s chest. Does he have a busted rib? He didn’t act like his chest hurt earlier on the trip.

The bandage was wet, so Alan undid the metallic clasps and off it came. Joseph was still shivering violently. Alan furiously dried his chest area, and as he did he felt yet something else attached there. He pulled the towel away and pointed his mouth-light to the area to see-

Breasts. Definite, rounded, full breasts.

He pointed the light downward. Hadn’t he dried some…? Yes, there was a penis and scrotum.

Alan stood stunned, nonplussed. What…?

Then, snapping back to the urgency of the situation, he finished drying Joseph. We’ll sort this out later, if he doesn’t die on me here. Joseph’s hair got wrapped up in a towel. Alan pulled the young man up and laid him across the foot of the bed that he had laid all the blankets on. He then disrobed himself down to his underwear and climbed on top of Joseph. Grabbing the blanket’s edges hanging off the foot, he then “logrolled” himself and Joseph towards the head of the bed, making a human burrito.

Alan, being overweight and having exerted himself, was very warm, in contrast to Joseph who felt like a giant ice cube. Alan willed his body heat into him, hugging him and rubbing his back. Please live. Please live.

*************************************
TO BE CONTINUED ON 11/28
*************************************

Thanks to Sephrena Lynn Miller for a quick first read!

Thanks to the "BCTS Closeteers" - especially Jana - for help with the pic!

If you've gotten this far, please leave a comment! (Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!)

Thanks for reading! - **Sigh**

Cruiser Lake - Part 2 of 5

Author:

Sigh

Caution:

CAUTION: Language

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Contests:

December 2012 One Winter's Eve Story Contest

Publication:

17,500 < Novella < 40,000 words

Genre:

Adventure

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

Other Keywords:

Action Romance

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

"SHUT UP! You got NAKED with me! And you sure don't look like you minded it! Was this your plan all along?"

Cruiser Lake

Part 2 of 5

by Sigh
Copyright © 2012 plaintivesigh
All Rights Reserved.

CHAPTER 4

Jocelyn coughed yet again, as she had off and on all night. This cough woke her up, barely. Over the next few minutes, she became gradually aware that she was awakening in a foreign place. Foreign, yet she wasn’t alarmed. She if anything felt secure. And nice and warm, except for the cold biting her nose, forehead and the upper tips of her ears. She opened her eyes to see brown fabric right near her face. In a minute, she looked up and saw a mild light, like reflected morning glow, off of a wall. A log wall.

I wonder where I am. She also wondered slightly why she wasn’t alarmed, coming to in such a strange place. I feel… safe.

She took a deep breath. Then she heard another breath and felt her chest squeeze with it. But she hadn’t inhaled. She moved her head — and felt the unmistakable rub of skin on skin. Her left ear was scratching against a rough yet soft surface; a cheek with stubble.

Someone’s in bed with me. What did I do last night? Oh God — don’t tell me I got drunk and got with some stranger. That couldn’t have happened; I never go out drinking. I don’t even date. Think. I went home after work, then…no, wait. I drove in the car to pick up that guy to go to Helena…

Then she remembered the drive. And the narrow road. And the bull elk and the crash. And the fall through the ice…

I need to get up and figure this out. If I can do it without waking whomever this is.

She then tried to lift her arm and leg, but couldn’t. She twisted her torso, which was still difficult. Lifting her head, she was able to get a look at the face of her morning companion. He was asleep; an older guy, with a mustache, thinning hair.

Her heart stopped.

Alan!

She still couldn’t mobilize her arms fully, but by rubbing her arms against her chest by shrugging her shoulders she had a shocking realization.

It’s not there!

Alan said groggily, “Hey…you awake?”

“Y-yeah…. um (kaff), did you… undress me last night?”

“Yes. (yawn) You got hypothermic after you fell through the ice. Even delirious. I was afraid I was going to lose you. I had to warm you up with my body heat.”

Joseph considered that news. “Thank you, Alan. I (kaff, kaff) guess I owe you my life.”

“I’m glad you’re alive. Do you know how hard it is to replace a good I.T. guy?”

Joseph didn’t laugh. “Alan… did you remove the wrap I had around my chest?”

“Yes. It was wet. You got soaked through and through.”

He's acting so normal. Maybe he didn't see? How could he not notice? -“When you took it off did you… notice anything?”

“Um… yes.”

OH GOD! OHGODOHGODOHGODOHGOOOODDD!!

Joseph panicked. Sudden queasiness and migraine took hold. “Get... get AWAY from me… GOD DAMMIT, GET OFF OF ME!!”

Jocelyn now made no pretense of being male. She writhed and struggled to get out of the cocoon they were in.

“Whoa, whoa, hang on just a minute willya?” Alan reversed the log roll from the night before, but Jocelyn was pushing and yelling, and they rolled too far — off the end of the bed.

THUMP! Went two bodies, one nude and one nearly, on the floor. Jocelyn scooted to the far wall, sitting with her knees to her chest, crossed feet attempting to hide her groin, arms around her knees. She immediately felt the extreme cold hitting her all around, and started to quiver slightly.

Alan stood up and tossed her some blankets. They were still warm from their “burrito”. He then proceeded to put on his outfit from yesterday.

“DANG! I didn’t know clothes could freeze!” Adam got clad quickly and looked at his sleep partner. She was crying, scared, and furious all at the same time. He sat down on the floor and smiled.

“I’m sorry about the being in the buff together. You were dying — really. You were nearly frozen, and I couldn’t get you to speak or respond. I figured you’d be freaked out if you woke up with us like this. I was hoping I might wake up first-”

“You- you stay over there! Stay the hell away from me!”

“Joseph, I’m not going to-”

“SHUT UP! You got NAKED with me! And you sure don’t look like you minded it! Was this your plan all along? To get me somewhere alone with you so you could practically RAPE me? Are you some tranny chasing old pervert who somehow found out about me and decided to carpool with me to get me in bed-”

Jocelyn was now openly wailing and shedding tears, unable to talk further.

Meanwhile, Alan considered his situation carefully. He imagined what his sister Charlene would tell him to do.

"Alan, consider what she’s been through and experienced; try to put yourself in her shoes. Confront anger with gentleness. She's probably been hurt or abused before. She's not a freak; she's a woman in her soul, and trying to make her body conform to that soul. Although the old you - 'Old Alan' - was a bigot, you've changed, you've grown. You're a better man. Be that better man, for her sake."

Okay, Char, here goes nothing…

“Yes. You got me dead to rights. I used my mutant powers of persuasion to make you choose to take that curvy mountain road. I had the Air Force seed the clouds so it would snow heavily. I bribed forest rangers to put that trained big elk in the road, and had the highway patrol calculate the slide down the slope onto the lake. I manipulated you into staying by the car so you’d fall through the ice. I did all of that — just so I could get you into bed.”

“You had your arms wrapped around me!”

“To warm you up.”

“You probably tried to rape me.”

“Do you feel raped?”

Jocelyn squeezed her butt. No soreness. “No.”

“In any other circumstance, waking up like this would be totally inappropriate. But you were going into hypothermic shock. I had to get you warmed up. There was no other way. I am so, so sorry.”

Jocelyn was silent, frozen in confusion as she considered his words. She looked at the floor. Then she turned to Alan again, her face a mix of sorrow and bewilderment. A new tear began to trickle again down her right cheek.

“Why — Why are you being so nice to me? No one who knows about this-” she exposed one arm and motioned to her body “-is nice to me. Every one I’ve told — my family, friends, others — have left me for dead. Except my friend in Helena. So I know how to handle disgust and rejection; I’m used to it. But I can’t figure you out. That’s why I thought you must be a pervert with a fetish. Why don’t you hate me like everyone else?”

Alan raised one hand to explain. “Okay, just hear me out. My sister came out as a lesbian two years ago, and she is one of the finest people in my life. Long story short: she got me to be open-minded regarding gays and transgenders. Is that you? Are you a transgender?”

Jocelyn, tearful and a little suspicious still, nodded hesitantly.

Alan beamed reassuringly. “Then please forgive me, ma’am. We haven’t been properly introduced. My name is Alan Sarkisian, salesman and alleged old guy, and I consider myself to be your friend, even though I don’t know what to call you. May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?”

The woman huddling under the blankets sniffed, then coughed. She wiped her eyes, and then closed them as she said, “Jocelyn O’Donnell”.

~o~O~o~

Jocelyn shivered. The blankets were thick, but she could feel icy air tendrils around her neck and feet. They just weren’t form fitting enough to keep her naked body warm — not like when Alan had been next to her.

Alan came through the door triumphantly. “It took me a while to locate them under all that snow — man, it’s still coming down out there — but I found our bags!” And my belt, thankfully, he mused. “Hopefully you’ve packed some warm stuff you can change into.”

“It’s all female clothing,” said Jocelyn.

“Well I should hope so,” countered Alan. “I’d feel uncomfortable if you tried to dress like a man, Jocelyn. Cross-dressers make me nervous.” There was that toothy grin again.

“Don’t… don’t mock me.”

“I’m not. Look, I'm sorry - I joke a lot. Maybe too much, sometimes. But I’m fine with all…” he pointed at her and her bag, making a circle with his finger… “all this. And you waking up, thinking clearly, with all your fingers and toes still on — man, it’s got me in a good mood that no one can spoil!”

Alan caught himself. Maybe I shouldn’t say “man” so much when speaking to her.

“I really don’t disgust you? You don’t feel that I’m a freak? Or at least, ugly? (kaff, kaff) I’m sorry, I’ve met few people — and NO men — who are as accepting as you’re pretending to be.”

Alan pulled her snowy suitcase over by her and opened it up. “Somebody’s really hurt you over this, haven’t they?”

“A whole bunch of somebodies, actually.”

I need to sell her on the fact that I’m being truthful and accepting. Which shouldn’t be hard, because that’s really how I feel.

“Now it’s my turn to apologize, Jocelyn. I’m sorry for all the men — and boys — who have treated you with disgust. All the ones of my sex who have made you feel ugly. Because I have been one of those “somebodies” most of my life. But in the last two years, I’ve had to challenge most of my basic beliefs about life, and people, even” he sighed, thinking of his failed marriage, “about love.”

He looked off, suddenly wistful. “There is so much that I’ve done that I regret, so much carelessness and harm that I’ve caused to others without even fully realizing it. I’ve been treated badly too, but that’s no excuse for my actions. And I can never undo all of them. But with you — I have a chance to do some good, to maybe atone for some of the crap I caused. I’m trying to do right by you. Will you teach me how?”

There’s that strange feeling again, thought Jocelyn. Like I might be able to… trust him. “So,” she said with a faint smile, “I’m (kaff) just a way for you to relieve your guilt, huh?”

“Yep. I’m only keeping you around until my karma is adjusted, then you’re on your own, kid.”

Jocelyn laughed, as did Alan.

“So, why don’t you get dressed while I take a look around this place and see what we’ve got here.”

“Is there a heater? What about hot water? I could really use a shower — my hair feels grody, and I stink like pond scum. (kaff) It’s going to make me sick if I have to smell myself like this all day.”

“No heat, I checked last night. Let me see about the water, and somehow it feels like there’s cold outside air getting in here. I’ll be right back.”

~o~O~o~

Alan sealed the hole he punched in the window with some duct tape he discovered. That should take care of the air leak. Now he was taking inventory of the cabin. No food to be found except a can of hot chocolate mix and some peanut packets, handouts from one of those economy airlines. Some hurricane lamps, and a few jars of lamp oil. A Coleman 'dual fuel' camping stove gave him a bit of hope — where there’s a stove, there had to be some fuel, right?

Praying had worked yesterday. So he figured he’d try again.

Hey, God. It’s me. Alan. I need to find some fuel for this stove here, and a lighter. I mean, I still think I know how to start a fire, but a lighter sure would be easier. Or if you can arrange for an immediate miraculous rescue, that would be fine instead.

By the way, good job on saving my friend yesterday. That was great work. Thanks a million. Sorry that I’m not saying this stuff right; I’m out of practice talking to you. So… hallelujah and praise thy holiness. A lot. Amen.

Alan looked inside the kitchen oven to find various pots and pans. He pulled them all out in hopes of finding something else, but didn’t.

He then noticed a small door next to the pantry that he had missed. Opening it up, he discovered two whole gallon containers of liquid fuel for the stove. Later, he found a long nosed butane lighter on the fireplace mantle.

God… wow! I should’ve asked you for food too, before I found there wasn’t any. Okay, please, some food for us too. And anything else we might need that I can’t think of right now. Glory to you, and the sun, and the ghosts. Amen.

~o~O~o~

Alan knocked on the bedroom door. “Jocelyn? Are you decent? Can I come in?”

“I’m back on the bed under the blankets, come in (kaff).”

He walked in with the Coleman and lighter and a stew pot from the kitchen filled with snow from the outside. “It’s still coming down out there. I hope we don’t get snowed in. Anyway, good and bad news. Which do you want first?”

“Please — just good news. I can’t handle any more bad.”

“Sorry, you get both. OK, bad news: we don’t appear to have running water. There’s a ground level water tank out there, but no response when I turn on the faucet. The lines are either frozen, or they were disconnected and drained before the owners of this place last left here.”

Jocelyn’s eyes grew wide. “But… how do we wash? How do we flush after… you know?”

“Good news: I think I’ve figured out a way to get you some warm water to bathe with. Mediocre news: It’ll have to be a sponge bath.” With that, he walked into the bathroom. In a minute, he emerged empty handed, closing the door behind him.

“The bathroom’s pretty small, so give it an hour before you go in there. Hopefully it will be warmer — scratch that, let’s say less freezing — in there by then.”

He left to the kitchen area, and then came back with two coffee cups that were steaming.

“Before I set it up in the bathroom, I used that little stove to melt some snow and heat it up for some hot chocolate. I figured-”

“You figured correctly!” said Jocelyn. She tried to work out how she could stay warm under the covers and sit up to drink. Finally she sat up in bed, pulled the covers over her head and around her body with just her face showing through. “Um… I need my hands to keep the covers tight around me. Would you mind…?”

Alan nodded, and brought the cup of brown ambrosia to her lips. She blew on it, and then sipped. “Mm… so warm, and I’m so hungry.”

She drank all of her cup, and half of Alan’s; he offered it to her because he saw she was still cold.

“Oh, thank God. That’s better. And thank you too, Alan.”

“Think nothing of it, ma’am.”

She eyed him quizzically. “You know, I had you pegged as an older, schmoozy guy who rubbed shoulders with all of the other ‘good old boys’. I mean, I was pleasantly surprised with our talking on the drive — at least the latter part.” She stopped to cough a few times. “But there is no way on earth that I would have expected you to act so casual, so — normal — after learning my “secret”. How did you get so accepting of the transgendered?”

Alan smiled. “That voice you’re using today is higher. Very feminine. Is that your natural voice?”

“Oh. Thank you. It’s the voice of my true self, but it’s not really natural to me yet; I still have to concentrate a little while speaking this way.”

“Well. To answer your question. You remember I told you about my sister?”

“Just that she’s a lesbian.”

“Yeah. Charlene came out and made that announcement to Mom two years ago last August. So Mom calls me to go over to Seattle to talk some sense into her. I was supposed to cure her of temporary insanity — that was my attitude, anyway. I thought that she was just going through a man-hating phase.

“When I get there, she’s more fulfilled and peaceful than I’ve ever seen her. She asked me to hear her out fully. So I did, and at the end of a few hours I had decided that I’d prefer my sister to be happy than to be the depressed, angry person I’d known since childhood. Instead of just a phase, I found she’d been feeling attracted to women for most of her life.

“I also learned a little empathy for what she’d been going through. She’d been treated like dirt by some of her previously closest friends. It especially hurt when she told me that in the past, whenever I had told a joke about 'dykes' or 'lezbos', that it ripped her up inside. I still feel horrible about that. I'd never been a militant 'fag hater' - but I definitely wasn't sensitive to the plight and struggles of gays and lesbians. I had to face the fact that I was a bigot, even if a 'soft' one. Anyway, I swore to change, apologized to Charlene, and since then I've tried to be more open minded.

"Then my sister tells me about transsexuals, and how they face more crap and stigma and discrimination than anybody. Sooo… I made a vow that if I ever met a transgender, I was going to respect her and treat her like the lady she really was. Unless the transgender was a female to male, then I would treat her like the man she really was. I mean, treat him like the man he really was. Or is. Now. You know what I mean. I mean, do you know what I mean?”

A wide-eyed Jocelyn stared back at him. “Yes, except maybe for the last four sentences.”

“OK. And then last night happened, where I saw your… assets, and as I’m trying to warm you up, I think back to how many of your features and actions and speech are really more feminine than I’ve noticed before, and realized that you were probably transgender, and that here’s a chance for me to put my vow into practice. And that brings us to right now.”

“Wow… wow. I owe you a huge apology. Thank God for your sister, and thank you for your attitude with me. If you were someone else, I could be beaten up or even dead now.”

“Don’t thank me yet. If we’re snowed in all winter, I’ll probably have to eat you to survive.”

Jocelyn’s eyes got even wider.

Alan flashed his pearly whites at her. “KIDDING! I’m kidding.” He checked the bathroom. “Hey — this is probably as warm as it’s gonna get. If you’re to bathe, you might want to get started.”

“Thank you. Could you hand me those green sweat pants and top that are just inside my suitcase, and some socks too?”

~o~O~o~

Alan walked outside. He had crawled out the window because the snowdrifts forming all around the cabin blocked the doorway. The snow had come down all night, and was still doing so. He looked at the grey sky.

If someone even realizes we’re missing yet, they probably aren’t going to send out a search party while it’s snowing so heavily. And I’ve got to find a way to keep us from being trapped inside. Okay, God. I need some help again. Send a search party to RIGHT HERE, please. And I need a snow shovel. Please, our father Art in heaven, hello to thy name. Amen.

As he waded through the powder to the back of the cabin, he saw a small building.

A tool shed. With a padlock. I’ll bet these keys that were hanging in the kitchen unlock it. You really must be up there, Big Guy.

~o~O~o~

Jocelyn was in the bathroom. The stove had melted the ice in the pot to warm liquid, and the small area was a little warmer than the bedroom. She’d already done a quick washcloth bath with soap and water; she now squirted her shampoo into her hands while dipping her hair in the pot.

After finishing and wrapping up her hair in a towel, she looked at her face in the mirror using the dim stove fire glow. Let’s see if I can use some makeup in this dim light and not look like a clown.

Later, checking her work with her compact mirror while using the daylight at the window, she felt gratified. Not bad. I’m getting better at this.

She then got out panties, a bra, an extra sweat suit, t-shirts, 2 socks, a camisole, 2 pair of leggings, a sweater, 2 thick scarfs, her faux fur hat with the ear flaps and her big floor length padded coat, and put them all under the blankets on the bed. She then crawled in there with them and began dressing.

~o~O~o~

Alan came in the front door, heart pounding, face flushed, and gasping. He’d forgotten how exhausting it could be when shoveling snow. He’d had a snow blower at home. Now it was Lacy’s.

He rested for a few minutes, then began filling up the hurricane lamps with lamp oil.

“How’s (kaff) it going in here?” Jocelyn came in from the bedroom.

“Okay. Hey! You look pretty.”

“Pretty covered up, you mean. I feel almost Iranian — all you can see is my eyes.” She had thick scarves wrapping her low neck up to her nose.

“Don’t be culturally insensitive. I’m a secret operative for the PC police. I’ll have you prosecuted for hate speech.”

He then examined her face more closely. The eyelids were a smoky lavender hue, descending into lilting lashes. “Your eyes… they’re beautiful. Is the rest of your face made up too?”

She nodded yes.

“Could you take the hat and scarves off so I can see the whole effect?”

Jocelyn blushed some at this suggestion. “My hair’s not the greatest. It’s still damp, and I have no way to fix it without electricity.” She exposed her lower face and removed her head covering.

Alan was amazed. Although he knew this face belonged to the Joseph he knew yesterday, there was no ‘guy in drag’appearance. This visage belonged to a woman. Pink glistening lips were in a nervous smile. With her long straight darkish hair and small chin and slightly thin face, she appeared to resemble one of his childhood crushes — Cher Bono. Not the multiple facelifted tabloid queen of this century, but the Cher of the 70’s, the sleek goddess on TV that wowed the nation in her Bob Mackie gowns week after week.

She's smiling. I'd forgotten how good it feels to have a pretty girl smile at me. She's really quite fetching... Alan, stop. You know where infatuation leads to - attraction, then love, then pain and yelling and abuse. Never again. Remember - you're living a monk's life from now on.

Jocelyn's smile grew more nervous. He's just staring at me with an open mouth. "Well, what do you think?" Are you amazed? Disgusted? Disappointed? Having a stroke? Say something!

“Wow. You’re gorgeous. Stunning.” Alan caught himself — Was I staring? Yes. I only hope I wasn’t drooling. Time to change the subject. “Ah… I see you have another heavy coat, thank God.”

“Yes. Like it? This color is called creamy chiffon. I brought it to be fashionable; turns out it might be a life saver.”

“A pineapple lifesaver. Yum, my favorite.”

She blushed. Was he being… flirty? “By the way, Alan… did you just say ‘thank God’? I thought you said he didn’t exist.”

“Well… let’s just say, in our current situation, I’m looking for all the help I can get. And believe it or not, I think I’m getting some.”

He looked around. “We’ve got that camping stove with fuel here, but no food. At least it’s a heat source. But I’m going to try to start a fire in the fireplace. There are only a few pieces of wood in here, but it’s enough for maybe six hours of burn. And — check out the custom-made fireplace tools! They’re not flimsy like most; looks like they were specially welded. The poker’s the most impressive; it’s so thick and solid, it’s almost like a weapon.”

“That’s… nice.” Jocelyn wanted to direct the conversation to a more useful discussion. “Do you think smoke from the chimney will be a clue for any rescue team? Or would they be expecting people to be in here this time of year?”

“Smoke wouldn’t hurt. Hopefully your girlfriend — your friend who’s a girl — has alerted the authorities that you’re missing.”

“Yes, she should have. She worries about me. But I told her our route would be along the two interstates, and I failed to call her when we changed plans. Blast it — that’s not like me.”

“Speaking of phones, mine is still in the car, at the bottom of the pond. Yours?”

“Mine too. I keep it on the dashboard. It’s not like we’d get good reception up here anyway.” Jocelyn’s eyes got watery. “Are we going to make it out of here? Please tell me yes (kaff).”

Alan smiled and put his gloved hand on Jocelyn’s scarfed cheek. “Ma’am, I promise you, we’ll get back to normal boring Missoula life before you know it.”

Behind his brave front, he pondered. That was the diciest sales pitch I’ve delivered in a long time. God, back me up on this, please. I don’t need her to think I don’t keep my promises, okay?

~o~O~o~
CHAPTER 5

Alan arranged the chopped logs in the fireplace. “This is all the wood I can see here. At least it looks good and ready to burn.” He crumpled up pages from an Edgar Allan Poe book he found nearby. “We don’t need any horror stories right now, anyway.” Placing them under the wood, he got the lighter out. “Well, here goes nothing.”

“Heat. Glorious heat. I can’t wait,” tittered Jocelyn.

Alan lit the pages. They caught well, and Alan stuffed more in with the huge thick fireplace poker. The wood eventually started to catch fire. “Oh yeah, baby. Make Papa some Fahrenheit!”

“Alan…”

“Look at that! Ain’t it beautiful?”

“Alan-”

“Almost as beautiful as your eyes, Jocelyn.”

“ALAN!”

What, she didn’t like the compliment?

“ALAN, THE SMOKE!”

Alan looked up. He had been focusing on stoking the base of the fire. Now he saw that all of the smoke, instead of going up the chimney, was billowing out into the room.

Immediately he realized - he’d forgotten to open the damper.

He tried to reach his hand in, but the fire was too intense by now. Grabbing the poker, he jabbed it in, but he couldn’t see the latch, and didn’t seem to be able to find it by passing back and forth. Meanwhile, smoke was really filling the room now; the top of the arched ceiling wasn’t visible anymore. He was going to need to put out the fire. How? Looking around frantically for an extinguisher, he began to panic.

FWOOSH!

A pot of fresh snow had been thrown on the fire. Jocelyn had a second potful in her other hand, and threw it on too. She ran back out the door to get more. It turned out the first two had done the trick.

Alan watched her, impressed and feeling sheepish.

“Alan (kaff, kaff), could you get up in the loft and open some windows up there to let this smoke out?”

“Sure… OK. But it’s going to get colder in here as a consequence. So you might want to get some blankets back over you, even with how you’re dressed.”

He climbed up the ladder on the side of the room to reach the upper level. The windows were opened just long enough to clear the majority of the smoke. Closing them and descending to the main floor, he noticed how much more frigid it had become.

“Jocelyn?” Where had she gone?

Then from under a mass of blankets on the couch, he saw a little gloved hand stick up and wave.

He sat down on the couch. “Are you okay in there? How are you breathing?”

“By inhaling (kaff) and exhaling,” came the muffled reply.

“Ha, ha. You’re a laugh riot.” Alan smiled weakly. His mistake had made things worse, not better. And all their firewood was wet.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he mumbled.

“Hey! I know I’m not (kaff) as funny as you are (kaff)…”

“What? No, I mean myself. My stupidity just screwed things up. Sorry.”

“Your bravery saved my life yesterday, Eagle Scout. I thought you said (kaff) you didn’t remember any of that stuff?”

“I didn’t — at least not until we wrecked. Then at times, exactly when I needed it, I remembered the instructions from my handbook and the accessory handouts I got from the survival training. I mean, the words on the pages actually appeared in my brain. I’m amazed. Maybe it’s a God thing. You know I prayed to him for you not to die, and you didn’t? Plus he helped me find the stove fuel. Maybe he’s been putting all those scouting lessons in my head. Then again, maybe not. I sure couldn’t figure out how to put out a fire just now.”

“Or,” said the blanket pile, “maybe he provided someone to help you so you don’t have to try to save us by yourself.”

“Ah. So in Webelos, you were trained to put out fires with snow?”

“Sure. (kaff). Got my ‘cabin-fireplace-fire-putter-outer’ badge.”

Alan chuckled. He reached over and patted one of the lumps of the blanket, hoping that it was the head lump and not a breast lump.

~o~O~o~

The camping stove lit without the drama that had occurred in the fireplace. Alan took a plastic end table from the far side of the couch and placed it before his blanketed companion. He then placed the stove there.

“Careful — I’ve got the Coleman right in front of you. It’s on.”

As Jocelyn peeked out from her self made bunker, Alan went to try to open the damper. The handle was easy to find, but after multiple mighty tugs he couldn’t get it to budge. Saying “open, sesame” with a flourish was of course futile. He looked in with his penlight, but didn’t see a blockage or lock. Lying on his back and kicking it a number of good thwacks still produced nothing.

“Dammit!”

“S’okay, Alan. We don’t have anymore fresh firewood anyway.”

“I know, but I could have taken apart the couch, or broken some of the dining area chairs and used them to make a fire. Not if the flue’s blocked, though.”

“This stove here is helping me some.” She had her gloves off and was warming her hands over the burner.

“Here,” Alan brought over the peanut packs. “Getting some calories in you will warm you up a little.”

“I thought you said we had no food.”

“This isn’t food. It’s a small snack. Still, it’s calories. Now, Mama’s souvlaki, with some tiropita, hummus and stuffed grape leaves. That’s food.”

“Alan, split the nuts with me. I know you’re hungry.”

“Look at this,” he said, patting his belly. “I’m not gonna starve for another five months. Now please, ma’am. Eat them. I’ll feel guiltier if you don’t. Remember your job as my ‘guilt easer’.”

We could be stuck here for days, even weeks. She needs — we need — something more substantial. There were fishing supplies in the back closet. I could ice fish back at that lake and see if I could catch us something. If I only had some bait.

Another page appeared. “There are four types of ice fishing bait: grubs, minnows, lures, and meat.”

Okay — none of which I have. WAIT!

He pulled off a glove and reached in his inner pocket on his winter coat. There was the beef jerky he had bought at the gas station yesterday.

Don’t know if this qualifies as bait, but it’s what I’ve got. Alan rushed over to the back closet, emerging with a pole, lines, tackle box, and even an ice auger to drill a hole with. God, if this is you doing this, then please take it all the way — in other words, get me some fish, please. Hail Mary, Phil and Grace. Amen.

“Alan — where are you going?”

“Off to work, honey. Someone’s got to bring home the bacon. Or trout, or sturgeon. Sorry I can’t go with you to little Johnny’s parent-teacher night. Enjoy your junior league meeting. I’ll be back by or before sundown.”

Jocelyn shook her head, half smiling as she watched him leave. This guy is certifiably nuts. I like it, she thought.

~o~O~o~

It had taken nearly to dusk to get a bite, but when one came, it was a winner. A large trout, about five pounds, Alan figured. He wrestled it out of the hole, and then laid on his back in exhaustion for a few minutes while the fish flopped furiously on the ice. All of the physical activity from yesterday and today was catching up to him. He didn’t even regularly exercise, normally. Adrenaline and urgency had been powering him so far, but now it was time for his muscles to pay the piper, and they were aching. Especially after drilling that ice hole with the auger. He had packed some ibuprofen; he thought he’d better take some when back at the cabin.

“Luuu-cyyy, I’m hoo-ooome!”

“Oh, thank heaven. I was getting worried- OH! MY GOD! What a huge fish!”

“Bring the stove over to the sink so I can have some light. I’ll clean this sucker and then cook him up so we can have a little more on our stomachs.”

There were salt, pepper, and various seasonings in the cabinet by the kitchen oven. Alan cooked all the trout save for a portion set aside to use as future ice fishing bait. Both he and Jocelyn were extremely hungry after smelling the fresh fish cooking. They sat on the couch, huddled together under blankets, eating by hurricane lamp light.

“That was the best fish I’ve eaten in my life,” she said.

“It’s the ambience. The firelight, the sub-zero weather, the threat of death staring you in the face... makes the food taste better.” He took his last bite. “Mm. The company’s pretty awesome too.”

“Alan?”

“Mm-hm?”

“Merry Christmas.”

He looked at her and saw that she was starting to cry. He sat quietly by her, not knowing what to do as she began sobbing out loud. Eventually he carefully reached his arm around her shoulders, and she buried her face in his chest as she gushed more tears.

“…Merry Christmas, Jocelyn.”

They sat that way as the lamp fire flickered on.

After a while, Jocelyn was all cried out, and continued to rest on Alan’s chest. His eyes grew heavy, and he began to nod off to sleep. She raised a gloved hand and tickled his chin to wake him.

“You’re exhausted. Let’s get you lying down so you can get some proper rest.”

“Not yet. You get in bed now, so you can get warm. I’ll gather up the dinner mess. When I do lie down I feel like I’ll sleep for a month.”

~o~O~o~

The lamp Jocelyn had placed in the bedroom gave it enough light to walk around with, but was dim enough to allow sleep. When Alan finally came there, she had brushed her teeth and was already in bed, completely covered head to toe once more in blankets.

“Hellooo, in there. Are you warm enough?”

“I’ll live. I still have two pairs of sweats and socks on.”

“You know, I’ll bring the stove in here. We need to not use up the all the fuel, but if you get too cold, light it up.”

He looked at her form under the insulation. Should I even bring it up? Oh, well. Here goes. “You know, if you needed to use my body heat again, you could. This time it could be with our clothes on.”

She peeked out from under the covers. “Thank you… I’m just not ready to, yet. Thinking about how we were last night is still really embarrassing to me.”

“Okay. No pressure.”

“I’m sorry. You probably think I’m so hateful and ungrateful. I will be forever in your debt for all you’ve done. But I want to sleep alone tonight.”

“Did I do the wrong thing putting my arm around you earlier?”

“No! No, that was fine. I appreciated that. But I was awake. When I’m asleep, I’ll be… vulnerable. It’s just my stupid trust issues. But I’m asking you to please humor me.”

“Okay, but promise me something. If you need anything, please wake me up. I mean anything.”

“Deal.”

“Goodnight, Jocelyn.”

“Goodnight, Alan.”

~o~O~o~

Jocelyn awoke shivering. The room was severely cold, and very dark. Did the lamp already burn out? I didn’t check the oil level in it. I’m freezing, even under all these covers. She heard Alan cough - from the next room. Is he sleeping on the couch?

She reached for and found the stove and lighter. Firing it up, she lifted it and used the light to walk into the big room.

Alan was asleep in all his clothes and coat. Lying on the couch, he exhaled vapor with every breath. Is he cold? He doesn’t act or look like he is. Should I wake him and ask him to… warm me up?

After considering for a while, she decided against it. She took the stove into the small bathroom, balanced it on the sink and turned it up as high as it would go. Sitting on the toilet top swaddled in her blankets, she warmed her hands.

~o~O~o~

CHAPTER 6

Alan awoke gradually. He sensed he was sore all over. It was day, though only a pale glow came through the windows instead of bright sunlight. His body felt relatively lukewarm except for his feet — the cold was biting through his shoes and socks — and his face. He put his gloved hands to his mouth and directed his breath steam to his nose and cheeks.

Sheesh! If my schnozz were any colder, it’d fall off.

Stretching his arms and legs — OW, ow ow ow — he willed himself into a sitting position.

“Hoo boy. I’ll have a large coffee and a plate of ibuprofen, Rosie. What? No coffee, just hot chocolate? I gotta find a new diner.”

Looking now up at the windows, he faced an unwelcome sight.

It’s STILL snowing? Not good. That’ll slow any search effort.

“Jocelyn? You up?” There was no answer. If I’m feeling a little cold, she might be freezing. I left her with all the blankets, though.

Slowly, he forced himself to stand, then to start walking. As he got to the bedroom, he saw that the bed was empty. Maybe she was using the toilet. Speaking of which, my bladder’s pretty full.

He gently knocked on the closed bathroom door.

“Are you in there? You okay?” he asked in a low voice. No answer. Suddenly worried, he turned the doorknob and spoke louder. “Hey, if you’re in there, tell me and I won’t come in. But say something at least, to let me know you’re alright.” No answer.

“Okay — I’m coming in.” If you’re there, please be dressed. Or at least don’t think I’m trying to be a pervert.

An unusual scene greeted him. The camping stove was on the sink, the last vestiges of flame anemically licking the burner. It was somewhat less cold in here than the rest of the cabin, he noticed. On the floor, lying on top of and under a mess of covers, was a still sleeping Jocelyn. Her face was lying next to the base of the commode.

Waking up with your head next to the head. That’ll be unpleasant. He felt simultaneously sympathetic and amused. Until he realized that he’d either have to wake her, or pee outside.

If my pecker freezes off, I’ll give her such a guilt trip, he thought as he readied to go out in the weather. Hell, she might even be jealous of me at that point. She’s the one who wants a dickectomy.

“Shut up, ‘Old Alan’. Go back in your mental cave,” he muttered through gritted teeth while he made amber snow.

~o~O~o~

Jocelyn shuffled bleary-eyed into the big room, covers draped on her shoulders, and plopped on the couch beside Alan. He glanced at her.

“How did you sleep last night, ma’am?”

“Oh, it was… ROTTEN. I stayed cold, and I’m so achy right now.”

“That’s what sleeping on tile and porcelain will do to you.”

She looked at him meekly. “You saw.”

“We’re a couple of sad sacks, you know? Big king size bed in this place, and neither of us use it,” he shook his head and snickered.

“I saw you last night on the couch. I’ll bet you didn’t sleep good either.”

“My whole body is just one big ache. But I think it’s mostly from being so physically active. Most of my life I’m either on my butt in my car or standing around giving a pitch. Are you up for some hot chocolate?”

“Can you just make me a tub full and let me stay in it all day?” shivered Jocelyn.

“Bathing in chocolate. Hm. NOW who’s the fetishist?” shouted Alan as he got the stove from the bathroom.

“Watch it, mister. Don’t mess with a woman when she’s got PFS.”

“PFS?”

“Post-freezing syndrome (kaff, kaff).”

Alan laughed at the joke while simultaneously becoming concerned. “I thought that cough had resolved itself.”

“It’s almost gone. It’s getting better. I’m fine.”

“Okay. If you say so.” Why am I not convinced, he suspected.

~o~O~o~

After fixing multiple cups of hot chocolate from melted snow, Alan went outside. He shoveled the front doorway clean again, then contemplated as he caught his breath.

How can I signal to show someone that we’re here? The continued snowfall is a big problem. Makes it difficult to achieve a good outdoor fire, and if I laid that big red blanket out as a signal — I could cut a white cross out of the middle of it — the flurry would cover it up in minutes. Surely someone is out looking for us. But can a spotter plane fly in all this snow? I need some ‘words on a page’ for this situation, God. Help me out, here.

He waited for an answer.

…..okay…. any minute now would be fine…

After what he was sure was ten minutes, he still had nothing.

“Don’t tell me I was just imagining that I was getting supernatural help the last two days,” he grumbled.

He walked back in the cabin. Jocelyn perked up at his entrance.

“How’s Mr. Eagle Scout Hero?”

“Not feeling too heroic, sorry. I thought I’d try to catch some more fish.”

“I tried opening the damper myself. It’s really stuck.”

Alan grabbed the auger, fishing materials and the leftover raw trout to use as bait. “Wish me luck.”

“I feel so useless. Can I help you? If we had two people fishing in two different holes, wouldn’t that be better?”

“No, no. You’re already constantly chilled as it is, and believe you me, it’s much colder outside. I don’t want you getting frostbite, or for that cough to get worse. If something happened to you… I just need you to stay here and try to keep warm. Please.”

Jocelyn was worried. Alan seemed preoccupied, distant; not jovial and joking like usual. I wonder if I’m irritating him in some way. Maybe he’s having second thoughts about accepting a transsexual. At the very least, I’m a burden to him right now. “Alan… is something wrong?”

Alan flashed his best imitation smile. “Absolutely not, dear lady. I’ll be back.” He trudged off towards the lake.

~o~O~o~

Since he had the fish flesh to use as bait now, Alan chewed the rest of the beef jerky for sustenance and warmth. The fishing so far wasn’t going as well this time. He had to take a while clearing snow off of the ice. With all the buildup he couldn’t find the hole he drilled yesterday, so he used his sore limbs to drill another. Now an hour into actual fishing, there was nary a bite. He pulled up his hook to find it stripped clean of bait.

“Danged sneaky sons of fishes,” he quipped. He pulled out the trout meat to bait the hook once more. Even with gloves, he had difficulty feeling his fingertips and it was hard to manipulate the flesh to pull off a piece. When it finally came apart, it did so suddenly, and the hook he was holding inadvertently jabbed into his finger.

“AGH!” he yelled, letting go of the hook — and the bait meat. Following Murphy’s law, it fell on the ice and bounced into the hole, vanishing.

Alan stood stunned for a second. Then he dropped to his knees and stuck his arm in to see if by chance he could save it. He pulled up nothing but icy water.

Leaning back on his heels, he slumped his head and shoulders down in shocking defeat. He ground his teeth together. All of the crap and frustration of the last two days and more bubbled to the surface as he slung his face skyward and screamed.

“fffFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU…….”

~o~O~o~

Jocelyn finished bundling up and grabbed the mug of hot chocolate she had made for Alan. She wanted to do something to help. He might not like her disobeying his wish for her to stay indoors, but she didn’t like the thought of him freezing his behind off out there with nothing to warm him up.

She stepped out of the doorway and started off in the direction she had seen him leave. But after about twenty steps, she heard his voice. She stopped and looked up.

Alan had his back to her, leaning against a pine tree, cradling his arms around his head.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid, STUPID! You damned fucking idiot! You’re nothing but a worthless, spineless piece of shit! Fucking failure! It’s always this way — whatever you do may start out good, but it usually ends as a pool of piss! This is why you’ll never amount to anything worthwhile… you’re an embarrassment to the human race!”

The raw emotion — and the severe language — rattled Jocelyn. She suddenly became very afraid, and quietly retreated back to the cabin.

A few minutes later, Alan walked back in through the door. His eyes were red, and cast down towards the floor.

“Hey. I’m back. No fish. Not now, or ever.”

He didn’t wait for a response as he flopped face down on the couch. Jocelyn didn’t want to give one. She was huddled in the corner of the big room by the fireplace, brandishing the thick poker in her hands to protect herself.

As Alan began weeping into the couch cushion, Jocelyn’s head and heart began an argument inside of her.

What have you done? You’ve allowed an unstable maniac into your life. All of the acceptance, the happy nature… it had to be too good to be true. First he screams at the tree; next he’ll be screaming — and beating — on you, warned her head.

Her heart countered. Look at him. See anything familiar? Maybe not with the yelling, but with the grief? Some of what he said outside has been said to you before, and it’s taken years of therapy to get you to just start not to believe it yourself. He’s suffering. Be brave, and try to help him.

Jocelyn swallowed hard, and decided to follow her heart. She laid down the poker and walked slowly to the couch. Kneeling by his head, she put her hand on his shoulder.

He pushed it away, face still in the cushion. “Leave me alone. I screw up everything, and I’ll screw your life up too,” he sniveled.

Her head warned that this might be a threat rather than self-pity, but Jocelyn stayed put. “Alan… who’s been saying this?”

He remained limp without moving. “Who’s been saying what?”

“This stuff about you. This evil stuff. That you screw up everything, that you’re worthless, spineless, a failure — all what you were saying to the pine tree out there.”

He lifted his head from the couch to look at her. “You heard what I was saying earlier? I thought I was far enough away from… Oh man. I’m sorry you had to listen to that.”

“I know those hateful words didn’t originate from you. I know they didn’t. Someone has been telling you a bunch of lies. Who is it?”

Alan’s face began to screw into a knot. He sunk it back into the couch and began to weep violently. Jocelyn threw her arms across his back and rested her head on him, while starting to tear up herself.

***************************
TO BE CONTINUED 11/30
***************************

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of these characters to any actual person living or dead is coincidental.

Thanks to Sephrena Lynn Miller for a quick first read!

Thanks to all the "BCTS Closeteers" - especially Jana - for help with the pic!

If you've gotten this far, please leave a comment! (Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!)

Thanks for reading! **Sigh**

Cruiser Lake - Part 3 of 5

Author:

Sigh

Caution:

CAUTION: Referenced / Discussed Suicide

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Contests:

December 2012 One Winter's Eve Story Contest

Publication:

17,500 < Novella < 40,000 words

Genre:

Romance

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Themes:

Romantic

TG Elements:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

"Wait! Did you just say... you love me?"

Cruiser Lake

Part 3 of 5

by Sigh
Copyright © 2012 plaintivesigh
All Rights Reserved.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Eventually Alan’s blubbering deteriorated into deep breathing with intermittent snuffles. Jocelyn stroked the back of his head. After a minute, she tapped his shoulder.

“Hey, big guy. Sit up for me.”

He slowly pushed himself upright to where he was sitting in the middle of the couch. He was slumped forward, head and arms hanging down as if limp. Jocelyn climbed up beside him and sat down. She slid her arm inside his, and her gloved hands grasped his near arm.

“Talk to me,” she whispered.

The man next to her didn’t raise his gaze from the floor; he just shook his head slowly. “You don’t deserve to be bored by my crap.”

She leaned her head on his sagging shoulder. She breathed her words out quietly. “I want to hear it.”

He shook his head again, and remained silent.

She stroked the back of his glove. “Was it… your father?”

His head rose, and he looked at her with bloodshot eyes. “You mean, was it Dad who yelled at me? No. No, absolutely not. Not Mom either. They were great. I had an awesome childhood. Although you’d never guess it, with how screwed up I am now.”

Alan took a piece of cloth he’d packed for the fishing out of his coat pocket. He blew a bucket of snot out of his nose, then glanced, mortified, at Jocelyn. “Sorry — excuse me a minute.” He walked to the kitchen area and disposed of the cloth, then washed his hands sparingly with some leftover melted snow and dish soap there.

“When you’re dried, come sit next to me again,” she requested.

“Really, Jocelyn… I’m sorry I did this… this breakdown. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Please come sit by me. I’m getting cold being here by myself.” She rubbed her arms and made a shivering motion to emphasize her point.

The appeal to his chivalry hit the target. He came back to the couch and sat, but still stared forward, off into the distance. However, he picked up where he’d left off.

“At least, it was a great childhood until I was sixteen. Dad died that year in a highway accident with a truck. I was devastated. See, every night for as long as I could remember, I prayed to God before going to bed. You know, thanks for this, help me with that. And I always asked for protection for my family and me.

“When Dad died, I figured that God was a liar; or more likely, a fraud. I became an atheist, much to the chagrin of my Mom and Charlene. But they both still loved me, and treated me with kindness and respect — even when I left college after my junior year to take a full time sales position at an auto dealership.”

“I thought you were always a pharmaceutical sales rep.”

“Not at first. I sold cars during the summers between semesters. I was so good at it they begged me to do it year-round. The money was pretty terrific, so I did.”

Jocelyn tilted her head at him. “So if it wasn’t your family, then who…?”

Alan looked at her. “Jocelyn, I’ve already been more of a screw-up than a help to you today. You don’t want to know the bull I’ve had to live with. It’ll just depress us both more.”

“Alan … you’re not the only one, you know.”

“The only one … what?”

“The only one in the room here that’s lived with abuse. I… I’m going to…(sigh)… Alan, l-let me tell you more about myself.”

~o~O~o~

Jocelyn’s head screamed at her. Don’t open up your life to him! He’ll hurt you, just like everyone else!

Everyone except Cynthia, her heart countered. And so far, he’s proven as trustworthy as her. If you open yourself up, it may give him the courage to talk. And when a problem can be talked about, it can be dealt with.

“You said your childhood was great. Mine wasn’t. My Dad was an alcoholic and a drug addict, although a ‘high functioning’ one, at least for all the years I was living at home. He headed up his own business of dry cleaning stores, and franchised them regionally. And then at home he would get drunk and/or high. Sometimes under the influence he’d be happy and even manic; once he called the local paper and proposed to buy their whole operation just because my name ‘wasn’t printed large enough’ when they reported the usual list of honor students. Other times, he’d be depressed, and get out his revolver and stick it in his mouth — or at Mom — and wonder why it wasn’t loaded. We made sure every day before he came home that we hid all of his bullets.

“Basically, if you live with a substance abuser you get sick too. Emotionally, socially, relationally. So even though I’ve never taken drugs or overused alcohol, I was caught up in the sickness of it all. At school I was a great student, and an all-region pitcher for the baseball team. But at home I became the introvert, the ‘lost child’, the one who would come straight home and lose myself in my CD’s and fantasy paperbacks. I didn’t have friends come over, because they might find out our big secret. Heck it was easier just to have no friends. I was so wrapped up in that pathology, any gender issues took a back seat.

“When Dad was sober, he was a great father. Drunk, he’d get pretty violent, verbally. Funny… he never raised his fist against Mom or me; just threaten to shoot with the gun on occasion. But believe me, the words he spoke cut deep enough. Even knowing it was the booze and drugs talking, when the venom came out of his lips, it scarred permanently.

“Now he’s actually been clean and sober for the last eight years. He hasn’t spoken harshly to me anymore. He and Mom just won’t have anything to do with me because they so disagree with me changing genders. He’s called me a disappointment; that’s about as bad as it’s gotten from him, lately.”

“That’s bad enough, in my opinion,” said Alan.

“Oh, that’s nothing compared to what I’ve gotten from ‘friends’ and acquaintances the last few years. It’s been horrible.”

He spoke softly and with empathy. “What… have they said to you?”

Jocelyn covered her face with her hands. A half minute later, she sniffled moistly.

“Disgusting … ugly … mentally ill … faggot … gay … homo … pervert. An embarrassment to my family and community, not to mention mankind in general. A quitter, a failed man. Shit licking … ass fucked … cock … suck-” she wrapped her arms around her head and started to weep. “And I’ve never been promiscuous. I’ve never even been with a guy, yet!”

Alan placed his arm around her as she shed more and more tears.

~o~O~o~

Eventually Jocelyn calmed. She patted the arm that was across her back. “Thank you for the support, Alan.”

“Jocelyn, none of that crap they said about you is true.”

“Oh, I know. Therapy has really helped me to reject it. The memories still hurt, though.” She looked at him. “So… who told you your lies?”

“Guess.”

“Lacy.”

“We have a winner,” Alan muttered, nodding his head.

~o~O~o~

“Lacy’s my second wife. I got married at age 25 to Dana, a girl who worked at a car dealership in Anaheim. We met at a sales conference; I lived in San Diego at the time. We’d drive towards each other on Sundays and meet in Escondido, about midway between us. We talked every night; my long distance phone bills were killer.

“Then we married. Living together every day — what a day-and-night difference. It seemed everything I did irritated her greatly, from occasional chest and back hairs left on the shower floor to the way I ate salad; she especially hated the fact that I didn’t put the knives in the knife drawer back in the exact correct order after dishwashing. She also was constantly accusing me of infidelity; if I sold a car to a woman under the age of sixty, Dana was sure that I’d seduced the sale. Then she left me within a year for a guy back in Anaheim that she’d been maintaining contact with during our whole damn relationship.

“Okay. Three years later. I now was in pharmaceutical sales, and more successful than ever, pulling in 120K a year, not bad in ’89. I met Lacy, and we started dating. She wondered if I was ever going to pop the question because I waited two years to do it. I was gonna be sure I really knew the next woman I married; I didn’t want another Dana. Lacy was beautiful, and seemed sweet. She had three kids from her previous husband, but I loved them and was sure I could treat them as if they were mine.”

Jocelyn was surprised. “Two years of courtship. Did she show any sign of being abusive during that time?”

“Unbelievably, no. Or if she did, I was blind to it. In fact, after we got married, things went okay the first few years, and we had the twins. But problems were there, and got bigger. I couldn’t seem to keep her on a budget. She’d take out new credit cards in her name and I wouldn’t know it. We got $80,000 in credit card debt before she showed me the actual bills.

“On top of that, I soon learned she was ashamed to be the wife of a salesman. She avoided social functions with me and urged me to go back to SDSU to get a ‘respectable’ career. Yeah, like I can stop and go to school when we were putting the older 3 kids through college and had the 80k card debt. And she was a stay-at-home mom.”

“Alan, did she offer to go to work to help out?”

“No - and I didn’t mind her being a housewife, what with five kids to raise. But she didn’t do much besides watch them. She’d hire a cleaning service to keep the house up, and she only cooked on rare occasions. Most of the time when I came home for supper, she’d have ordered pizza or take out … all on credit cards. I was working extra to make ends meet. Then she’d accuse me of not being there as a husband and father.”

Jocelyn found herself getting a little angry with this woman. “That would be hard to live with.”

“That’s not even close to the worst of it,” shuddered Alan. “What damaged me the most was the manipulation and verbal abuse. When I tried to put my foot down, she’d threaten me with divorce and taking the twins. Over the simplest things, like what level of cable TV service to get! I wanted marriage counseling; she refused. How crazy is that — you usually hear of the husband being the one to avoid counseling.

“When I would stand my ground on a quarrel, she’d fight dirty. If she didn’t have a good logical position, she’d begin character assassination. Or bring up old wounds, or cut down my side of the family, or call me names — and swear at me. In public. And in front of the kids. Her screaming and yelling got bad. I even tried to go ‘toe to toe’ with her on it one time, but her lungpower was amazing. Finally I saw that the only way I’d have peace in my home was if I conceded every argument, every decision to her.

“I guess I heard all the crud coming out of her for so long that I started to believe it myself. I mean, I couldn’t have made a mistake and married a second woman who hated my guts, right? No, it really must mean that I was that rotten a person.

“Oh, Alan. I’m so sorry.”

“Work became my only escape, the only place where I seemed to do well and get respect and praise. So I spent more and more time there and less time at home. I got a lot of sales accomplished, but I was putting in 70-hour workweeks. If I came home when she was in bed and left before she woke, she couldn’t hurt me as much.
“The last straw was at last year’s Christmas party for Marcam. It was the first work party she had been with to me in eight years, because of her shame with my profession. Anyway, we’re at the table with the big brass, the owner-“

“Mr. Leibowicz?”

“Yep, the man himself. We’re all talking, and I tell a joke — maybe a little corny, but clean — and everyone at the table laughs, except Lacy, who’s shaking her head. She then yells that ‘it’s bad enough that you have to drag me to these stupid get-togethers with lousy food and boring people, but do you have to go and make a jackass out of yourself too?’ Everyone at the table got quiet; I apologized and excused us from the party, pulling Lacy with me, her hissing at me all the way.

“I didn’t know that happened.”

“You always leave the parties early, remember? Anyway, something inside me broke that night. I had sworn I would never ever get a second divorce, but at that point I didn’t care. I moved out, and Lacy got to play the role of the poor jilted spouse with all of our friends, except the few who saw her at that party.”

Jocelyn felt brokenhearted for Alan. “What do your twin girls think of all this?”

“The twins enter college this summer, but for the rest of this school year she has primary custody. I call them, but they won’t talk to me. I think they catch too much hell from her if they express any affection about me openly. Maybe once they graduate I can see them more than every other Saturday.

"And I’ve promised myself to stay out of romance from here on out. I get extremely lonely at times, but I can’t afford to even take a chance of going through that emotional and mental hell again. I mean, I know there must be non-abusive women out there — but it sure doesn’t seem like I pick that kind. I’d rather live single forever than risk it again."
He began to cry again. “I thought that leaving would get rid of the abuse — but I listened to her for nineteen years, and I can’t get her damned screaming out of my head! I don’t know how much of it is true and how much of it is lies. I don’t have the money for counseling, between debt and alimony. That’s why I have to leave Missoula. Maybe I can heal with more distance between me and her.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Yeah, and — Oh God. No one’s supposed to know that. It won’t happen anyway; the job interview in Helena was supposed to be today.”

“Your secret’s safe with me. Do you still hear Lacy’s voice in your head right now?”

“Ohhh, yeah. It’s always there on some level. It harps at me at day, and whispers accusations at night. When things don’t go right — like today — it’s louder than a jet engine.” Alan was now leaning forward, elbows on his knees, and gripping his skull. “This is killing me. I literally feel sometimes like it’s killing me on the inside. I’d never consider suicide… but sometimes, I wouldn’t mind if my life was over. At least I wouldn’t have to listen to this…”

Jocelyn held tight to Alan’s arm. She watched as tears started to dribble down his cheeks. His face was bright red as he tried to hold in his emotion. She contemplated what to do, how to help. Once more, her heart was her guide.

“Are your muscles sore, big guy?”

He continued to stare straight ahead, but nodded.

She got up and walked to the back of the couch, directly behind him. She pulled his coat to just off of his shoulders, and began massaging his neck, his trapezius muscles. She pushed deep, as there was a lot of tissue and flesh on this man.

“Jocelyn, you don’t have to… ohhh, that… that’s… that’s nice…”

As she rubbed, she bent down and whispered in his ear. “Alan Sarkisian… is one of the finest human beings on the planet.”

“That’s a laugh -”

“Shhhh. Just get quiet, and listen to me. Close your eyes. Relax.”

She pressed her palms on either side of his spine, and slowly moved them down the length of his back.

Another whisper. “Alan is smart, and funny. He gives people hope.”

He stayed quiet, as requested. Now with his coat off, she draped one of his arms over her shoulder and began working on his biceps and triceps.

“At almost fifty years of age, Alan did an amazing thing: he took a long, hard look at himself, and started to reach out to people different from him.”

She went to the front of the couch. Her fingers kneaded his calves, his thighs. “He’s an Eagle Scout, and he still remembers his training just when he needs to.”

She climbed behind him on the couch, and had him turn to the side slightly. She then lay down on the couch cushions, pulling his back to her chest so they spooned. She then pulled his coat over both of their bodies.

Alan felt her embrace him as he relaxed into her. Her gloved hands gently stroked his head, his cheeks, his hair. He felt her lay her cheek on his bald spot. Like the Sahara absorbing a rare rain, he soaked up the affection. He heard her voice continue in a soft, barely-there tone.

“The best sautéed fish in the history of the world was made by Alan.

“Alan saved my life. He saved my life! He is a bona fide hero.

“He has an unselfish, giving spirit. Alan’s smile is so bright, it lights up the deepest corners of the darkest soul. He is quick to forgive when someone treats him like a jerk. Alan is…”

On and on she talked. As she did, Lacy’s voice became just a little weaker in Alan’s head as the strong, loving voice of Jocelyn competed for space there.

~o~O~o~

CHAPTER EIGHT

They lay together on the couch all afternoon. Alan became so serene from Jocelyn’s ministrations that he fell into a deep sleep.

Jocelyn noticed something happen in herself while she spoke the affirmations to him. She saw that he needed her, that she was a help to him; she was of value to him. It was a nice feeling, to know that one has value. While combing her mind for all the positive virtues he possessed, she realized that all of them were true. She hadn’t needed to make any of them up. That led her to a conclusion.

This guy is a special guy. I’ve never known anyone else like him. So many great qualities — the best one, to me, is that he accepts me as a woman. Not only that, he has suffered some of the ways I have. I almost feel like… like he “gets” me.

Am I feeling attracted? Affectionate — that’s a better way of saying it. I’m beginning to feel affection for him. Maybe my “chooser” isn’t broken after all.

After a while, Alan opened his eyes. Jocelyn looked down into them from above, appearing upside down to him.

“Hello, handsome. Feel any better?”

“Like a trillion bucks worth.” He paused. “Did you mean even half of what you said to me?”

“I meant every word of it. It’s all true.”

“Make that a gazillion bucks, then.”

Alan sat up, then stood. “Hope I didn’t squish you flat, lying on you all that time.”

Jocelyn laughed. “I’m fine. WHOO-!”

She whooped in surprise as Alan grabbed both her hands and pulled her quickly to a standing position — and to him.

“That was one of the kindest, most loving things anyone has ever — ever — done for me.” His eyes were moist as he then kissed her on the cheek and embraced her in an all-encompassing, prolonged bear hug.

“Now I’m squished,” she giggled as he released her. “That was radical. I won’t need a chiropractic appointment for months.”

“I know you’re hungry,” he said with disappointment. “I lost the rest of the bait. There’s no way to catch a fish now.”

“I hear they’re having a hot chocolate special tonight at Chez O’Donnell. And the company’s pretty awesome, they say. Shall we?” She wrapped her gloved hands around the crook of his elbow.

A slow grin started to trickle across Alan’s lips. Finally he showed those high beam choppers Jocelyn had come to expect from him.

“There he is! Alan’s back,” she cheered.

~o~O~o~

They had three cups each and stopped. The mix in the can was getting low. Alan went out to get some snow to melt so they could have a pot to “flush” the toilet with after they were both finished in the bathroom tonight. Meanwhile Jocelyn went to brush her teeth and remove the modicum of makeup she had applied that morning. She then let Alan use the room.

Jocelyn was already under her covers in her sweats when Alan emerged from the bathroom.

“Hopefully all that hot chocolate will keep you warmer than last night. I took some ibuprofen, so I’m going to the couch. Goodnight, Jocelyn, and thank you, again. Thank you so much.”

“Will you be warm enough, Alan?”

“I’ll keep everything on, even my coat. I want you to have all the blankets — you’ll need them.”

“You shouldn’t sleep in that fishy coat. It’s fine for daytime, but it’ll be too stinky to wake up in.”

“Huh. I don’t notice it.” He looked down at the coat. “I mean, I know the trout brushed against me a few times while I brought it in, and then today I kept the bait in the pocket, but…”

“I could smell it when we were on the couch together.”

He was puzzled. “But tonight you’ll be in here. I’ll be on the couch, and if it doesn’t bother me, then why…?”

“What I mean,” she said meekly, “is it’ll be too smelly to wear it while lying with me.”

Alan was pleasantly shocked.

Jocelyn was blushing deep red. “So — unless you’re uncomfortable with it — I’m asking you to take off that coat, and your shoes, and bring that warm body of yours and get next to me.”

Alan grinned widely. “It would be the most thermal solution for both of us. Purely from a practical standpoint.”

“Uh-huh. Get over here.”

As Alan went under the covers, he put his arm around Jocelyn’s back and pulled her to him. She nestled her chin at the base of his neck and they pulled the blankets over and under them.

Jocelyn exhaled, and relaxed. She recalled how she had felt on first awakening the previous morning.

Safe.

~o~O~o~

As she had done on Christmas morning, Jocelyn awoke first.

She was aware of where she was. In bed, wrapped around Alan and he around her. Snug and toasty, with only a hint of cold air leaking through one of the edges of the blankets. She felt his chest rise and fall with each breath, sometimes accompanied with a slight snore on exhaling. His inhalations pushed into her breasts with a slight pleasant sensation. She comforted in his broad shoulders and big arms.

We’re stranded in a cabin on a mountain in a snowstorm. Nobody knows we’re here. No obvious car wreck for people to spot. No readily available food, no heat, no phone. Just me and my coworker, who has found out about my most guarded secret by accident. We’ll likely die here.

I wouldn’t be anywhere else in the world.

She nodded off back to sleep, a contented look on her face.

Alan awoke. He took a minute to get his bearings, and then remembered where he was. And who he was with.

Technically, I’m sleeping next to a man. That’s what most of the world would say. And that’s what I had her pegged as for the last four years. But she makes much more sense as a woman. Her gentle nature, her melodic voice, her way of walking and moving. She was born for this role. It’s hard to see her as anything else but female.

Maybe she could be “read”. Hands and feet aren’t big, but aren’t petite; but her breasts. Yes, those are very nice. And her soul sure can’t be read. Hell, she’s more feminine than many natural women I know.

And so far, she appreciates me. God, how I have longed for appreciation. Lacy always was disappointed with me. Right now, Jocelyn needs me. It’s nice to be needed. I sure need her right now. Her survival is what’s driving me to survive.

Jocelyn stirred.

“Good morning, ma’am.”

“Good morning, kind sir.”

“Are you uncomfortable?”

“Just a minute.” She adjusted herself to pull even tighter into his body. “Better.”

One of her legs was pushing into the crease between his two legs, against his groin. This plus a full bladder caused a reaction that had been a rarity these days for Alan.

She felt his erection against her leg.

Oh, she thought.

Oh no, he thought.

He pulled away from her. “I — I’m sorry,” he muttered.

She placed her head to face his. “I’m not,” she whispered barely audibly.

He looked in her eyes. Their faces were so close. With tantalizing slowness, he moved closer.

Jocelyn’s heart was beating like a bumblebee’s wings. She closed her eyes just before their lips made contact. When they did, she experienced a falling sensation, weightlessness. Every nerve ending in her skin tingled to life, and she felt transported to another world, one where time has no meaning and the only things in existence were the two of them and this kiss.

She felt his tongue lick her lips, and she opened her mouth. Her tongue touching his sent her to an even higher plane. Her nipples tingled and her skin felt flushed. He had a sour morning taste to his mouth. It was the most wonderful, awful taste in the world.

They finally broke, both breathing heavily.

“Sorry about our morning breath,” he whispered.

“Speak for yourself, trout mouth,” she giggled.

As she did, tears formed in her eyes. She eventually started to cry slightly and buried her face on his shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” he cooed in her ear.

“Nothing’s wrong. It’s so right…”

The crying continued as he held her close. Ah. So that’s what they mean by ‘happy tears’, he thought.

Eventually, she quieted, and they lay in close embrace, each with eyes closed. Alan eventually stirred.

“Hey, gorgeous. I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

“What is it, Alan?”

“I really, really have to pee.”

~o~O~o~

CHAPTER NINE

Alan returned from the bathroom. “I’ll melt some snow down later on the stove to flush it.”

“There’s some hand sanitizer that’s in my suitcase — use it if you’d like. Aaand… there’s some Tic-Tacs there too, if you don’t mind, for both of us. ”

“Thanks.” Alan rubbed the alcohol gel in and began to shiver. “DANG - it’s freezing this morning!”

“Well, get back under the covers with me then, mister.”

The snuggling resumed.

“I’d love to know more about you,” said Alan. “I know you have trouble opening up, and trusting. But I’d like a chance to prove worthy of your trust.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Your hopes and dreams. Where you see yourself in twenty years. The one place in the world you would go if you had one wish for it. What makes you tick. The good and bad things that have happened to make you who you are. I want to know more about what you’ve had to endure, you know, the “stuff” that’s happened that you mentioned on the drive. I want to know what made you take the incredibly brave step of changing — what do they call it…”

“What made me decide to transition?”

“That’s the word.”

She got quiet.

“Jocelyn? Are you okay? …Look, maybe that was a bad suggestion. I’m sorry, you don’t have-”

“I’m scared.”

Alan kissed her and whispered, “What are you scared of?”

“What if, after you find out more about me, you change your mind and decide that you’re disgusted with me?”

“Let’s see… do you like me, Jocelyn?”

“Yes.”

“Even though you learned that just two years ago I was a gender bigot?”

“You’ve changed. I like you for who you are right now.”

“Back atcha. I don’t care if you were a warthog with an odor problem…

“Boy, do you have a way with words.”

“…I love you for who you’ve become, who you are right now.”

Jocelyn’s heart jumped. “Wait! Did you just say… you love me?”

Alan looked away, his voice suddenly faltering a bit. “This scares me nearly to death. My two marriages left me gutted emotionally. I planned to never fall in love with anyone ever again. But… the way you spoke to me yesterday… your words… I have to have them… having experienced them now, I don't think I can live without them.

“I’ve been attracted to you since you first smiled at me with your makeup on. But when you whispered to me on the couch — I realized I’ve been hoping for, searching for, needing a woman who would love me with her words and actions the way you did. You fulfilled me in a way that even no sexual act ever has. And though the thought of another possible doomed relationship frightens the hell out of me — I’m afraid I’m hooked on you.”

Jocelyn’s head shouted. He barely knows you! It’s just the stress of the situation talking. He’s too old for you. He’s too good for you. He’ll hurt you. You’ll hurt him. This can’t work. Tell him. “Alan — have you thought about this? Saying those 3 powerful words? You don’t feel like you’re acting too hastily, do you?

“Hey, woman. I’m fifty-one years old. I can’t afford to hesitate. I love you. God help me, I’ve fallen for you hard.”

Jocelyn’s heart screamed: LOVE! He loves you! Love, with a man who accepts you and risked his life for yours! This chance may never come again! So if you love him too — TELL HIM!

Now she was giving him a bear hug, although it was more of a python squeeze around the neck. “Oh, Alan. I love you too! I love you, I love you IloveyouIloveyouIlooooove you!”

She couldn’t stop kissing his face, his nose, his eyes, his ears, and of course his lips and tongue. She wanted his kisses. She now wanted his body next to hers, naked, as it was on Christmas morning. She started to unbutton his shirt, taking a deep delicious breath while doing so. It made her cough.

She then began coughing uncontrollably.

Long, hard prolonged barking spasms that weren’t bringing any mucus up. Alan, alarmed, started to pat her back firmly with his palm, thinking maybe it would loosen any offending phlegm. So severe was this spell that she couldn’t get a word out edgewise.

Finally, in a few minutes, it calmed some. Alan had already gotten out of bed to quickly fix her something warm to drink; he thought maybe it would help.

~o~O~o~

“Ready for some hot chocolate?” Alan brought in two smoking cups with rapidity.

“Mm, yes.” Jocelyn took it and began sipping. “You made yourself one too, right?”

“Actually, it took the last of the powder mix to make yours. But don’t worry about me, I made myself some decoff coffee.”

“We had coffee? And don’t you mean decaf?”

“No. Decoff.” He meekly showed her his cup. “It’s just hot water. But it will warm me up.”

He refused to drink any of her cocoa even against her protests. “Jocelyn, what the heck do you think that coughing fit was from? I was worried a little earlier when you had a small cough, but then I haven’t heard you do it again until just now. You told me it was almost gone earlier.”

“It was! I’m not hiding anything from you, I swear. The first day after falling through the ice, I coughed a lot, but last night and today had been better. I’ve had no fever; I’m not bringing up mucus or anything. And I feel a lot better having sipped on the warm cocoa. I think it was Murph, again.”

“Who?”

“Murphy’s law. The more romantic the moment, the more likely a blasted interruption. Get back under the covers with me, Alan.”

“Careful… I might get the impression that you want to spend the whole day in bed.”

“Mm… sounds dreamy. Besides, I’m going to do what you asked. I’m going to tell you about my transition. But I need just a wee bit more courage… can you tell me you love me again?”

“Jocelyn O’Donnell, I am madly, truly, deeply in love with you.”

She closed her eyes and luxuriated in those words, letting them bounce around inside her brain. Eventually she looked at Alan and kissed him again, long and hard. Then, laying her head on his chest, she spoke.

“Once I got into college, I opened up to my assigned mentor and he directed me to Al-Anon, the group for people who lived with alkies. Boy, did they help me deal with the crud from my home life. But even with that assistance, I became further depressed and didn’t know why.

“I went to a psychiatrist — again, recommended by my mentor — and she administered a huge written screening test. When she told me the results, she asked, “Are you transgendered?” — that’s the first time I considered that as being my issue. I thought I was just screwed up being the kid of an alcoholic, that maybe I dreamed of being a girl just because I wanted to be someone else, and somewhere else, besides home.

“I didn’t want to be transgendered. I ran from that issue for years. All I could see is that it would take me into a new kind of abuse and suffering. But I started suffering even more the longer I tried to ignore it. I was nearly suicidal, at one point. So two years ago, with my therapist and doctor’s support, I decided to transition. I started hormones and medicines to block my testosterone. I also got facial, neck and chest electrolysis. The idea was for me to start living as a woman full time, the real life test; and then eventually have SRS.”

“SRS? Super Rack Supplements? They worked.”

“No, wise guy. Thanks for the compliment, though. Sex reassignment. The operation down there.”

“So, that was two years ago. How long do you have to wait before you can start living female all the time?”

“That’s… the sticking point. I’ve tried to gradually accomplish it — first go part time, then take the plunge — but the reactions I’ve gotten have… inhibited me. I came out to my Mom and Dad, and that went bad. Real bad. Basically, we haven’t talked in two years. They’re ashamed of me, especially Mom. I had only a few friends, and all of them dropped me like a hot potato when I told them. All except Cynthia, my girlfriend in Helena. I did try to say screw it all, and go full time anyway, but…”

“But?”

“Sorry. Th-this is the hard part for me. I went to Mr. Leibowicz and told him I’d like to transition at work. Showed him the letters from my therapist and psychiatrist, gave him printouts on how to manage transsexualism in the workplace, and so on. He did not agree with it. He felt like if I did, it would foster a ‘hostile work environment’ and lead to poor productivity. So, basically, it was stay as Joseph or be out of my job.”

“But that’s discrimination! Jocelyn, a half decent lawyer could have his head on a platter and a huge settlement for you.”

“I know. I know! But I… I don’t want to be a gender crusader. Leibowicz and Marcam are beloved figures in Missoula, and I would be the evil freak witch who destroyed them. With all the resentment I think I’d cause, I’d be a virtual leper. Even a new employer would be hesitant to take on a rabble-rouser. And right now, work is all I’ve got. It’s the only thing in my life I draw enjoyment out of, the only thing that fulfills me.”

She hugged him. “Well… it WAS the only thing.

“So, I was going to use the holidays to stay with Cyn and live as me, and look for a new job in Helena as Jocelyn … in a town where almost no one knows Joseph. So see, I had a hidden agenda for this trip too.”

Alan pondered. “So you and I both were going to Helena to start over, basically. A fresh life. For each of us. And maybe, now… together?”

He sat up in bed. “Dammit, we are NOT going to die here! We are getting out! I - we both - now have something not just to run from, but also to run towards! We are going to survive, you hear me? I’ve got to find us some food, and somehow signal for a rescue!”

“Alan… I’ve been thinking… this sounds really gross, but I may have something you could eat.”

He looked at her, befuddled. “Why is that gross?”

“Because… it’s dog food.”

She jumped out of the covers, and pulled a gift-wrapped box from her suitcase.

“These are dog treats. They were to be Sissy’s Christmas present. Cyn has a shih tzu.”

Alan unwrapped it. “Hm. Not a lot of them here, but it would be something…”

“Something for you, maybe. I don’t think I could keep them down. But I got the cocoa this morning, and you didn’t.”

Alan was reading the label. “Hey… these treats are meat-based! ‘Made from real cuts of beef’!”

“That’s good, right? You need some protein.”

He grabbed Jocelyn and spun her around, laughing. “Baby — you just got me some new fishing bait!”

*******************************
TO BE CONTINUED ON 12/03
*******************************

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of these characters to any actual person living or dead is coincidental.

Thanks to Sephrena Lynn Miller for a quick first read!

Thanks to Holly H. Hart for beta reading and editing!

Thanks to the "BCTS Closeteers" - expecially Jana - for help with the pic!

If you've gotten this far, please leave a comment! (Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!)

Thanks for reading! **Sigh**

Cruiser Lake - Part 4 of 5

Author:

Sigh

Caution:

CAUTION: Violence

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Contests:

December 2012 One Winter's Eve Story Contest

Publication:

17,500 < Novella < 40,000 words

Genre:

Adventure

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Elements:

Other Keywords:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

"JOCELYN! COVER YOUR NECK! I'M COMING!"

Cruiser Lake

Part 4 of 5

by Sigh
Copyright © 2012 plaintivesigh
All Rights Reserved.

CHAPTER 10

It was still snowing intermittently, more “on” than “off”. Alan re-shoveled the front door, but the piles of snow all around the cabin were getting higher. The lower floor windows were becoming mostly covered. The sky remained overcast with grey haze.

Alan rested when done, puffing deeply. He pointed to the clouds. “Go ahead! Do your worst! It won’t matter — come hell or high drifts, we will live, and we will get out!

He walked to the pine tree he had verbally abused yesterday and shoveled powder away from the base; he eventually found the fishing supplies he had thrown there in disgust.

I was talking to the clouds, God, not you, he prayed. He didn’t want to offend his only other source of help. We sure could use a rescue. Until it comes, we sure could use a fish. You know, I gave up on you — on everything — yesterday. And then, you sent an angel into my life. She had to come from you, from heaven, because she gave me a spiritual healing like I never had. I now want to live — and I want her to live — more than I’ve ever wanted anything. Thank you for her. Thank you for giving me a reason to live.

Oh, and thanks for this bait too. May the force be with you. Amen.

He waded through the deepening snow towards the lake.

~o~O~o~

After a few hours of fishing, Alan was getting chilled more than usual. The lack of food not only kept him from producing heat from digestion, but he was chewing up body fat. Any other time in his life he would have welcomed that, but now he needed the insulation.

“Hey there!” chirped a familiar voice.

Alan turned. “Jocelyn?! What are you doing out here? It’s cold even for me, so you must be freezing!”

“Not as much as you’d think. Open your coat.”

He did so, still confused as to what was going on. She came up to him, bumping her chest against his. Then she unbuttoned her creamy chiffon coat, and transferred a plastic garbage bag filled with — something? — to him.

“Now button your coat around that.”

As he did so, he felt warmth come from the lump against his torso. “Wow — what…?”

“A big towel, dipped in hot water, inside a tied garbage bag. Poor college student’s hot water bottle. Now I’ve got to run back before I get shivery.”

He watched in thankful amazement as she hopped away. Yep. An angel. My snow angel.

~o~O~o~

Jocelyn ran through the cabin door and shut it quickly. “BRRRrrrrr!” She clicked on the camping stove and warmed her hands, then melted some snow for some hot water to sip. Finally warming up some, she explored the cabin. She felt she had more motivation to survive now too, and if she could find a way to help, then that would improve their chances.

Most of the search was futile. Alan had already combed the cabin the first morning there. Climbing up to the loft, she looked in some boxes, and a closet. Nothing useful. Then she saw a large box shoved to the back of the top closet shelf. Once opened, it revealed over two hundred tea light candles. They were small aluminum cups of wax with wicks, probably no more than four to five hours worth of tiny flame apiece. Not really a heat source, but good for a nightlight.

An hour later she had found nothing more, so she was a little discouraged. She flounced on the bed. She decided to do something she rarely did. She prayed.

God, I know that I have ignored you for the longest time. I’ve never been an atheist like Alan is — or was — but I guess I’ve been hurt by too many people who claim that they are your followers. I do believe that you’re there, and I never thought that you were as spiteful as many of your “people” have been. And Alan says you’ve been helping him. So I’m asking you. Please help us. Please get us out of here, healthy and intact. Please keep Alan warm and give him good luck fishing. And show me what I can do to help him, to support him. I feel like I’m useless, sitting here, but I don’t know what else to do. Thank you for listening. Love, Jocelyn.

As she ended her plea, a thought popped in Jocelyn’s mind: Look under the bed. She did. There was nothing there — except, one of the floorboards was obviously not sitting flush with the rest.

She pushed the bed away enough to access the board. Sure enough, it was loose — and she pulled it away. Deep down in a hole, going into the dirt underneath the cabin, was a medium size lockbox. It was too deep for her to reach; but using the fireplace poker, she was able to snag the handle on the box and pull it out.

She was thrilled. Could it be food? A radio? So her disappointment was understandable when all it held were two small wine bottles, one a quarter full, one empty.

More useless stuff, she sighed. Then an idea took hold in her mind. A way to be of service to Alan. She got up, replaced the board and bed. There was a lot to get done.

~o~O~o~

“SUCCESS!” Alan came in the door with two 3 pounders. He didn’t see Jocelyn in the big room.

“Hallelujah!” she said, sticking her head out the bedroom door. “I’m busy with something in here. Why don’t you clean those and start frying them up?” She pulled her head back in and closed the door.

Alan had hoped for a hug and a kiss. Then he remembered his odorous coat, now more fishy than ever. She might be avoiding this smelly thing. Trout is good food, but it’s taking a toll on my love life. He pulled out a knife, fired up the stove, and got cooking.

The sun was going down when he put the fish on the skillet. Jocelyn came up beside him in her coat, hat, and scarves to where only her eyes were visible. “Why don’t you go clean up for supper and I’ll finish your frying for you.”

Alan smiled while looking sideways at her. “Clean up?”

“Go in the bathroom and take off your clothes. I’ve got a pot of warm water and a washcloth in there for you to bathe with, and I laid out a set of clean clothes from your suitcase. You’ve been wearing these for-”

“For the last 2 days, yeah. It’s bound to be cold in there, though. Remember, I used the stove to heat it up when you last bathed on Christmas day.”

“Actually, I last bathed an hour ago. And I did fine. Go. You’ll see.”

Alan walked into the bedroom, and gasped. There were scores of little candles lit. They were mostly gathered on the plastic end tables brought in from the big room, kept away from the walls and any fabrics. He went into the bathroom and there was the promised pot of warm water, vapor arising from it. In the bathtub, there were multiple lit tea light candles, almost filling the whole floor of the tub. With all of these little flames, it definitely felt less chilly.

He undressed and bathed with the washcloth and soap in front of the sink. His razor and toothbrush with paste had been placed on the sink, so he had a quick shave and cleaned his mouth. He then used the balance of the water to wash his hair. After towel drying and cleaning the wet floor, he picked up the folded clothes she had laid out for him on the toilet. On top of the clothes lay his deodorant and cologne from his shave kit.

He emerged from the bathroom dressed, dapper, and smelling good. “Man… I feel great.” Even the bedroom was noticeably less frigid with all the candles burning.

Before he could walk out of the bedroom, Jocelyn came walking in with two plates of cooked fish. She had taken her coat, hat, and scarves off. Her face was freshly and fully made up, with soft eyelids, long eyelashes and liner; light blush on her cheeks with shimmering cherry lips. Large red and black polished stone earrings framed her face, with matching necklace draping across her sweater. The bright red Merino turtleneck had an interlacing diamond knit patterning, and matched the bright red polish that made her nails a brilliant contrast to her pale hands. A hint of leggings at the knees peeked between her black satin colored business length skirt and black leather go-go boots. Alan gazed at her, mouth agape. He could smell her perfume. Her hair was clean and straight, and her smile and sparkling eyes lit up his soul.

“Ready for dinner?” she crooned.

“Yes — but I think I’ll want some dessert,” he growled mischievously.

“Down, boy!” she laughed.

Alan, for once, was at a loss for words. He ate the fish hungrily, but could not take his eyes off the pretty vision sitting beside him on the edge of the bed. As he finished, Jocelyn reached under the pillow and produced the wine bottle with a little left in it, and two wine glasses.

“I found these while searching this place today.”

There was just enough wine for a few sips worth in each glass.

“Sorry, it’s red. I don’t think that goes with fish,” she said.

“But I do think it goes with hot fox,” said he.

“And beefcake,” she whispered back.

Suddenly Alan lifted his head, as if having an epiphany. He put his plate and glass down on the ground near the wall, and stood up. He walked over to the closet where he had folded his dirty clothes earlier. Reaching into the pants pocket, he pulled out a tiny mp3 player and a pair of ear buds.

“I’d forgotten about this. I’m still not in the habit of using this little thing,” he said as he pulled up “70’s mix” and scrolled to a song. He then slipped the mp3 into his shirt pocket and extended his arm to Jocelyn.

“May I have this dance, Madame?”

Jocelyn took his hand and stood, not sure where this was going. Then Alan put one of the ear buds in his right ear, and the other in her left ear. “This song is me speaking to you,” he whispered to her as he pressed a button on the player.

She heard a piano playing, followed by Joe Cocker’s voice.

“You are so beautiful… to me…”

She looked into his eyes as her own got waterlogged. As she lay her head on his shoulder, he grasped one of her hands and put his other arm around her waist. They swayed slowly in the light of a hundred little flickering flames.

When they stopped, they kissed sweet and long.

“Come to bed with me, Eagle Scout. Let’s make some fire.”

She then disrobed. How I wish I could do this slowly and seductively, but it’s still a little too chilly to be exposed too long. In less than a minute, she was down to a red lace teddy. Alan drooled.

“Sweet ever-lovin’ heaven! You’re hot! …but you’re gonna be freezing in seconds, even under the covers. You should-”

As if in anticipation, Jocelyn lifted the bedcovers to expose some ‘poor college student hot water bottles’. Pulling them onto the floor, she hopped under the blankets. “Mm-mm-mm, toasty. Needs more meat, though.”

Alan had his clothes off in twenty seconds.

As he pulled in beside her, she whispered “Let me take care of you down there. I’m not comfortable yet doing anything below my waist until SRS.”

“Jocelyn, I love you. But I might not be able to do this.”

Her face fell. “I-I’m sorry. This is too much too fast, isn’t it? And with me still having my… this was a bad idea. Forget-”

“Jocelyn! No! I’m… I’m impotent.”

She had her mouth agape now. “But… this morning… I felt you.”

“Look, - God, this is embarrassing — I can very occasionally get an erection. But for the last four years, they’ve been lasting shorter, and sometimes won’t come at all. This is one of the many things that Lacy said I was a failure at.”

He looked away. “What you really need is some younger guy who can satisfy you, not an old has been like me.”

“Be quiet, Lacy’s voice. Alan, have you seen a doctor?”

“Yes. He saw no medical issue. No disease, testosterone level fine. Even the pills didn’t help much. He said it might be mental or emotional. But I wasn’t ready to see a shrink.”

“Have you… been with a woman since Lacy?”

“After my last two marriages? Remember, I was gonna be a monk for the rest of my life. Until you came along.”

Jocelyn kissed him. “Alan, do you remember that old show ‘Married With Children’?”

“Yeah. Al Bundy?”

“That’s the one. Did you think that Al’s wife, Peggy, was physically attractive?”

“Absolutely.”

“Yet Al was always avoiding having sex with her. Why do you think that was?”

“Probably because she was a ditzy lady who took all his money and continually ridiculed him.”

“Sound familiar?”

Alan thought. “Huh. And my name’s even Al. Are you saying that my problems getting it up might have something to do with Lacy cutting me down all the time?”

“Maybe. I’m no doctor. And I love you whether you can or can’t ‘get there’. But I wonder what would happen if we tried some positive reinforcement.”

“Positive…?”

“Shhhhh. Just listen to me. Alan is a great provider. He’s a sexy man who knows just the right song to pick to slow dance to. He’s so romantic. He is a hard worker, and brave enough to get out on the ice that I fell through to get us food. I love his big broad shoulders. They make me feel so safe. Alan’s a good man, a type of good man that’s hard to find…”

He pulled her close and she felt a familiar bulge pressing into her hip.

“…and it’s good to find that he’s still a hard man.”

~o~O~o~

CHAPTER 11

They lay entwined.

Alan after the best sexual level he’d performed at in at least eight years. Jocelyn after her first intimate experience as a woman.

“You were great,” she kissed into his ear. “And twice!”

“My God, woman, you turn me on so much. First a hand job, then the best blow job ever. I never thought I’d experience that level of intensity ever again. I wish you could have felt the same.”

“Oh, I did. Did I ever. I arrived.”

“What? How? I didn’t really touch you down there.”

“Those vacuum treatments you performed on my breasts? They did the trick. God! That was heavenly.”

“Huh. I’m saying ‘God’ — and talking TO God — more than I have in decades, lately.”

“I know. I even prayed today, for the first time in a long time.”

“I think God’s okay with what just happened. I’ve heard God is love.”

“Yes. That’s what I think too.”

“You know, I’d love to make you orgasm when you get your vagina. When do you go to get that?”

“I’ll need about a year of living as a woman before they’ll approve it. Unless I go to Thailand. But either way, it’ll take money, and that may take the longest to build up.”

“I’m a patient man. I can wait.”

Jocelyn pulled back some so she could see his face. “Alan — I know that you told me you love me — but are you implying that you want a long term relationship?”

“Yes.”

“Like… permanent?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

“Are you sure? You know what they say about relationships begun under intense, life-and-death circumstances.”

“That the sex rocks?”

“Well… I’ll bet they do say that. But they also say that those relationships tend to fail over time.”

“Jos, yes, I’ve heard that. By the way, do you mind me calling you Jos?”

“Ah… no, actually. Jos is cute.”

“Anyway, I’ve heard about Christie Brinkley and the guy she met at that helicopter crash. Their marriage plopped in under a year. And then there’s Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reaves. They were so great together in ‘Speed’, but broke up before ‘Speed 2’.”

“I never saw ‘Speed 2’.”

“Yeah, like most of America.”

“Alan — they weren’t dating in real life.”

“Exactly. It was just a movie.”

“So… what point are you trying to make, again?”

“Listen, I know the odds are a romance that starts like this will tank. That doesn’t mean that it always happens, and it doesn’t mean it would happen to us. I just know that I have never met a woman who has loved me with her words the way you do. When you say that stuff, it’s like concentrated life force to me. Not to mention that I love your face, your breasts, your shape, your voice, your smarts, your heart… I know that we still barely know each other; I just don’t want you to slip through my fingers.”

Jocelyn looked at him with an intense glare. She was afraid to breathe too loudly. “Alan…what exactly are you saying?” Oh God. I don’t believe this. It’s too good to be true… that’s why I can’t trust it to be real.

“Just this. I want to have you as my wife. If you’ll have a guy almost old enough to be your father. Jocelyn O’Donnell… will you marry me?”

She covered her face with her hands and began to sniffle.

“Yes.”

He pulled her to himself. There are the happy tears again, he thought.

He was wrong.

~o~O~o~

They both had started to get cold, so they changed into layers of clothing again and got back in bed together. Pretty soon, sleep overtook Alan. Jocelyn remained awake, in deep contemplation. She had Alan’s head against her breasts. He was lightly snoring every third breath or so. She looked down, and kissed his forehead.

“Alan?” she whispered. “Are you awake?”

She received no reply, just the occasional snore. She asked again, a little louder. Still no response.

She relaxed and began to talk, still under her breath.

“Alan, these last four days have been the most horrible and most wonderful of my life. I gladly accept the horrors that have occurred, since without them I would never have come to know you and your love the way I do now. You are so special. Did you know that? I really don’t think you do. God, what that woman did to your soul, to your head.

“I would love to be your wife. Even knowing the odds of a relationship starting out this way. I know that I could treat you better than Dana and Lacy did. See, there are very few men — good quality men, that is — that would be interested in a transgirl like me. I would never take that for granted. A man like you — you really are a dream.

“And that’s the problem. This love we share, I’m afraid it’s just that. A dream. A pipe dream. A man of your quality — your caliber — really deserves more than what I can give you. See, I knew — at least in part — what trouble I was getting into when I decided to transition. I knew that was part of the deal. You, on the other hand, kind of fell into this relationship when we got stranded here. If you are with me, you will suffer. With your family, work, any other acquaintances. Marrying me would make you a social outcast, which is the kiss of death in your profession. I can’t let you do that to yourself. It would destroy me to know that I had ruined your life. That’s why we really cannot be a couple.

“It may be a moot point anyway. The chances of both of us making it out of here alive get slimmer every day. And while you might could survive a long walk back down to highway 12, I absolutely wouldn’t. I’m weighing you down.

“I actually kind of hope I don’t make it out of here. I don’t think I’ll ever match this kind of bliss — the heaven of loving you — again. The rest of life would be a disappointment. Best to “go out on top”, as they say. And it would crush me to see you with someone else. Although I’d know that you would be happier with a good quality genetic girl than someone like me; that would be the only consolation. You’d be better off with some five-foot-two blond blue-eyed D cup girl than a former male who will not pass perfectly ever.

“I know you would fight me if I said all this while you’re awake. So I’m speaking to your subconscious, and I hope it will make your conscious self see my reasoning. At the very least, I’m getting some practice in for when I do have to tell your awakened self.

“But know this, Alan: I love you. Just like you said, truly, madly, deeply. I will always love you, more than anything else in my life. And you have blessed this life of mine these last four days, these days of paradise. You’ve stolen my heart, and you may gladly keep it. I love you, Alan…
…Goodbye.”

She worked to stifle her sobs so she wouldn’t wake him, as Alan continued to softly snore.

~o~O~o~

Jocelyn awoke. It was dark. The candles had all burnt out. And she was alone in the bed. Alan… no! Don’t go away yet, I’m not ready! Just one more kiss…

She jumped out, and ran to the bathroom. He wasn’t there. Running to the big main room, she saw it was empty too.

The room… didn’t look right. It looked like daytime, but night too. What was happening?

“ALAN!” she screamed, shaking with dread.

The front door opened, with Alan coming through, snow shovel in hand. “Jocelyn? What the… what’s wrong, baby?”

She virtually tackled him, wailing. “I… I thought you’d already left me!”

He held her tight and kissed her over and over. “I’m right here. Right here. All I did was go to shovel the doorway. Hang onto me. I’m never going to leave you.”

She still shook. “Wh-why does the light look so weird in here?”

“It’s the snow. It’s slowed, but still coming down. It has all the ground floor windows totally covered now. But light still is coming in through the loft windows.”

“We’re almost snowed in completely. We’re not going to make it.”

“HEY! Hey, none of that talk now! We will make it out of here. We WILL. You just see. I — and God — are not gonna let either of us die out here.”

He held her and rocked her until her shaking stopped.

~o~O~o~

“Well, wish me luck. I’m off to catch trout.”

“Why are you taking the fireplace poker with you?”

“I need a tool. Yesterday, I hooked a huge one — I’m guessing twelve, fifteen pounds? — but he fought so hard, the line snapped once I had him halfway out of the hole. If I get him today, as soon as his gills are out, I’m gonna spear him. And then, my dear, maybe we’ll finally have enough fish for a couple of meals.”

Jocelyn looked concerned. “I… I feel like the cabin’s going to cave in… it’s claustrophobic, not being able to see out the windows.”

“Hm. Follow me.” Alan climbed the ladder to the loft. She did the same. “See, you still have a great view out of the loft windows. In fact, you can kind of see where I’ll be fishing, through those trees, down at the lake.” He pulled out the mp3 player and buds. “Listen to some good music. And they have a few paperbacks up here… a Louis L’amour, a Tom Clancy, and — oh, here we go. Romance novels!”

“Thank you. It does feel better up here,” Jocelyn agreed. At least not like I’m suffocating.

She stayed in the loft while Alan went out to fish. Looking at the books, she tossed away the romance novels. The last thing I want to do is read about ‘true love’ when mine is doomed. She read through the mp3 playlist. Forget it; too many love songs. Lying on her back on the floor of the loft, her eyes started to leak. She couldn’t remember another five-day span where she had wept so much.

Her tears stopped eventually, not so much from achieving relief, but because further crying seemed futile. She felt dull and lifeless, except for the acute ache in her chest, the cramp in her throat, and her old friends queasy belly and pounding skull. It all sucks. Everything sucks. Love. Life. Why did I have to fall for him?

She got to her knees and dusted her full length creamy chiffon coat off with disappointment. I’ve had to live in this day and night, and it’s getting ruined. Standing, she walked to the window to see if she could see Alan out at the lake from there. He wasn’t readily visible in the area where he told her he’d be.

Then, she saw him. He was only about a hundred feet away from the cabin! He wasn’t at the lake yet, but still heading towards it - crawling on his hands and knees. What had happened?

Suddenly extremely alarmed, Jocelyn quickly unlatched one of the loft windows and pulled it open part way.

“Alan! What’s wrong?” she yelled, cupping her gloved hands around the outline of her mouth.

He stopped and looked back at her just for a second before going on.

Jocelyn’s blood froze with panic. She’d been mistaken.

That wasn’t Alan.

~o~O~o~

CHAPTER 12

Jocelyn was frantic. Alan was in deep trouble, dead if they decided to attack him. She didn’t know what to do.

“God, help!” she choked out, fear stemming her speech. “There’s no hope, I’m helpless and useless to him, my God it can’t end this way, he can’t die he CAN’T DIE-“

“Stop it.”

She halted, and went quiet in her mouth and head. She’d heard that voice before internally, although this time it came so loudly she could have sworn it was spoken out loud. It was her strong inner dilemma-solving persona, used in her information technology job. It spoke again:

“This is just a problem. All problems have solutions. A solution exists for you. Think. What’s the problem?”

“Alan’s about to be dead meat!” she yelled impatiently.

“No. Focus. That’s not the problem; it’s the outcome, if the problem is not addressed. What do you need to change the outcome?”

“I… I need a gun.”

“None available. Restate the problem.”

“I need a weapon. A big one.”

“THAT’S the problem. Look around the room. Find a solution.”

She scanned the room quickly, analytically. Couch, 2 wood chairs, fireplace shovel/broom, 2 wine bottles, pots, pans, long nose lighter, dishrags, camping stove, 2 hurricane lamps, lamp oil, funnel for stove fuel, liquid stove fuel-

And she had her solution.

~o~O~o~

Alan finally caught the monster. The biggest trout he’d ever seen or even heard of. When it hit, it pulled so hard that he was sure it was the same whopper that he’d lost yesterday. It fought like a demon, but when he finally coaxed it out of the hole it received the big poker through the gills, just like Alan had planned. It was still flapping more than an F. Scott Fitzgerald socialite until he speared it through the brain.

He caught his breath; that had been quite a struggle. Then he whooped. “WAA-HOO! A fanny-slapping blue ribbon pinch-me-I-must-be-dreaming trophy fish! Boy, what I wouldn’t give for a camera!”

He stopped, and then added, “-accompanied by a quick warm ride for us out of here.”

Pausing again with a smirk, “And, as long as I’m wishing - Jos, naked, in a tub of hot chocolate.” Don't blame me, God. She's the one who wanted that.

He picked up his gear and his catch, and began the trek back to the cabin. He’d walked it enough this week that he knew the distance, roughly: 140 yards, more or less. An hour or so of daylight left. I could fish a little more, but I’d best not push my luck. Don’t want anything to jinx this day-

As if on cue, his concern materialized into reality. There, trotting towards him from the trees into the tiny clearing he was in.

A wolf. A huge wolf.

It slowed down and began to show its teeth as its eyes locked with Alan’s. Alan immediately looked slightly away. His scout survival manual was shouting at him.

“Avoid direct eye contact with the wolf as it will be interpreted as a challenge.”

He quickly stuffed the trout down the front neck of his coat. I’ve got the poker. I can keep him at bay. Dammit, one wild pooch is NOT gonna get Jocelyn’s food.

“A lone wolf will not threaten a full grown human, unless rabid. Packs of wolves will do so, rarely. Wolves hunt in packs of four to seven.”

That’s when he noticed the others trickling out of the trees. Four more, all between him and the cabin.

They began to spread out slowly, and then with more speed began to encircle him. The first wolf was the biggest, and was the chief aggressor, approaching him with fangs bared and beginning to snarl. Alan responded by slowly backing away, poker drawn, arms and shoulders spread out to increase his size to them. He had no other instruction about how to deal with five wolves.

As they flanked him, he darted his head back and forth in a desperate effort to keep track of each. Retreating, he noticed a tree to his right, about ten feet away. Maybe I should dart to the tree and climb it — if for nothing else than to buy time. He glanced to his left and then prepared to break for the pine. But as he looked back right, he saw the big one — he must be the leader, the alpha wolf — had seemingly anticipated his thoughts. It was standing right next to the trunk, effectively blocking his plan. What now — what do I — God help me —

Suddenly there was a small crash of glass on the tree trunk. A fireball exploded above the wolf as liquid fire rained down on it. It’s coat was now aflame, and it yelped/screamed as it jumped forward, rightward, then in a circle and then helter-skelter in a zigzag off through the woods, howling in pain and fright. The others now looked a little tenuous, almost spooked, yet they held their ground. Alan thought for a second, fire from heaven?

He was nearly correct. Jocelyn, his angel, stepped out into the clearing. She had no gloves on as she pulled the second small wine bottle from her coat. Using the lighter, she flared up the rag stuffed in the opening, secured with the bottle cork. Alan’s resolve sparked back to life along with it. With her in his corner, he felt he could fight off a pride of lions. He glanced back at his rear quadrant to see where the wolves now stood-

They were gone. Had they all tucked tail and left?

Then turning to the front, he saw the horrifying answer. They were doing what wolves do, attacking the smallest and weakest available prey. Jocelyn.

She backed up, quickly realizing how the tables had turned; she’d hoped the others would have run with the first explosion. Throwing her last firebomb at the closest wolf, she saw it sink into the snow unexploded as the carnivore nimbly dodged the missile. It jumped for her neck and she blocked it with her forearm, nearly being knocked off balance. But it now had ahold of the sleeve of her creamy chiffon coat, as a second wolf clamped down on the lower hem in a futile attempt to bite her leg. She saw the other two wolves closing fast. They jumped towards her torso, and confusingly only got mouthfuls of polyester.

Jocelyn had ducked down and slid out of the bottom of her coat. In her sweater and sweats, she broke in a run for the cabin.

The pack quickly recovered and took off towards her. As they did, the second wine bottle, fuse still burning, hit a tree in front of the last two trailing wolves. A line of flame four feet across suddenly blocked their path. The face of one of them was now on fire, and it screeched as it ran away. The wolf next to it was startled enough that it ran too. Alan ran up to and over the fire line as fast as his legs would pump.

Jocelyn screamed as the remaining two creatures caught up to her.

“JOS! COVER YOUR NECK! I’M COMING,” yelled Alan.

As the wolves jumped her back, she fell forward into the deep snow, now guarding the back of her neck with her arms as instructed. One bit deep into her right forearm and attempted to pull it away. The other dug its teeth into her left leg just above her knee. They now attempted to tug in opposite directions, as if trying to split her like a wishbone.

Poker in his left hand, Alan ran towards the closest beast. It kept pulling on Jocelyn’s arm but had her rescuer in the corner of its eye. Alan pulled the huge trout out of his coat and launched it just to the right of the animal, causing it to instinctively jump to it’s left. Which sealed its doom.

Alan had already left his feet, jumping towards his target’s anticipated arrival spot. He landed on the wolf like a pole-vaulter, impaling it through the chest with the poker. It’s ribs cracked and snapped as the steel spike with the big man behind it bisected its heart.

Alan jumped back up as his victim took its rapid, agonal last breaths. The last one still had ahold of Jocelyn’s leg. Her blood was staining the snow red in two spots. The wolf was hungry, and with the taste of hemoglobin it was not willing to give in, despite the fate of its friends.

“HYEAAAH” yelled Alan, waving his arms threateningly as he bounded towards the remaining canine. It released Jos’ leg but would not run, snarling and growling at the impatient man approaching it. Dammit, run off. I don’t have time to fight you. I’ve got to stop her from bleeding to death.

“If you have food, throw it to the wolf. It may be distracted enough to leave you alone.”

Alan sidestepped to grab the trout. It was bloody from the head wound he’d given it. Throwing it just over the head of the wolf, it landed three feet behind the furry tail.

The red-mouthed animal glanced back at the fish, then back at Jocelyn, with Alan standing over her in a protective pose. It stared at Alan for a few seconds, and then lowered its head in a deferential motion. The huge catch was in its jaws seconds later as it trotted out of sight.

Alan ran like a man possessed to the cabin, with his limp lover in his arms.

~o~O~o~

He burst through the door of the cabin, already honed in on his next task. He had to be successful. Failure would assuredly mean death for her.

He entered the bedroom and laid her gently but quickly on the bed. He grabbed one of the few unworn shirts from his suitcase — his white long sleeved dress shirt he’d packed for the interview — and with his hands assisted by his teeth, tore a few wide strips of cloth from it. He stripped off her sweats down to her t-shirt and underwear and rapidly scanned her body for other wounds. Only finding the two on her arm and leg, he looked quickly. Her leg was oozing blood fairly steadily, but not with a pulsing motion. Her forearm was also just oozing, and not as severely; combined, however, she’d likely lost a lot, Alan figured. Using thick strips of shirt cloth and some butter knives from the kitchen, he fashioned tourniquets and applied them on both limbs, placing them between the wounds and her heart. Then quickly covered her with blankets.

“Alan… that hurts…”

“I’m so sorry sweetheart, I’ve got to stop your bleeding, if it works I’ll release them in just a little bit,” he blurted out rapidly. He wasn’t near done. He folded up what little clean fabric he had left and stuffed them into the wounds, then wrapped them tightly with more strips, making modified “pressure dressings”. He then elevated the wounds, packed snow around them to help stop the bleeding, and pressed hard on the leg wound to try to help it coagulate. I’ve never heard of using all of these techniques together, but hey, I’m trying to save a life, here.

Unable to think of anything more to do, he stayed beside her and held pressure on her leg. He looked at her face. Jocelyn’s eyes were shut, and she was grimacing from pain constantly, although the expression was more intense some moments than others. She was so pale. And she was taking deep heaving breaths, like she couldn’t get enough air.

“Baby, are you having any trouble breathing? Do you feel weak?”

“Yes… to both… nnngh,” she grunted through clenched teeth. “And… it hurts.”

He checked his watch. Twenty minutes since the tourniquets were applied. If they stayed on too long, she could have limb loss; he wasn’t sure how long “too long” was. He let the arm one loose, then the leg. Now the trick was to wait and watch to see if blood oozed into or around the dressings. Waiting. I hate this part. I need to be DOING something for her, not just sitting here.

“Alan…”

“Yeah, honey? Don’t be moving yet. Just be still. You can’t start bleeding again.”

“I feel… so cold… “

He got rid of the snow packing. That was probably a stupid thing to do. Stupid, stupid…

“Alan… you are not stupid…”

Oh God — I said that out loud?

“You saved my life… again. My hero, my Eagle Scout. You were… so awesome out there… I’m so proud of you…”

“No.” He was crying now. “Baby, I don’t deserve that. God, if I had just stayed here instead of trying to catch a rotten fish… you actually saved my life. I’d be shredded to bits if you hadn’t come along. You’re a life saver.”

“A… pineapple lifesaver?” She curled her right lip into a mild grin.

“Nope. Not today. Lime,” he smiled through his tears. “With those light green sweats you had on.”

“They’re… ‘Sweet Chartreuse’…”

“I swear I’ll never understand girl colors.”

“It’s part… of the feminine mystique…”

“So where did you learn to make Molotov cocktails? Don’t tell me Webelos.”

“Got my… anarchy badge,” she grinned, eyes closed.

Alan laughed while his heart broke. She was in trouble. And it was dark now. God. I’ve done all I know to do. She’s in your hands right now. Please don’t let us down.

********************************
TO BE CONCLUDED ON 12/05
********************************

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of these characters to any actual person living or dead is coincidental

Thanks to Sephrena Lynn Miller for a quick first read!

Thanks to the "BCTS Closeteers" - especially Jana - for help with the pic!

Thanks to Tels for special help!

If you've gotten this far, please leave a comment! (Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!)

Thanks for reading! **Sigh**

Cruiser Lake - Part 5 of 5

Author:

Sigh

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Contests:

December 2012 One Winter's Eve Story Contest

Publication:

17,500 < Novella < 40,000 words

Genre:

Adventure

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Elements:

Other Keywords:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

"I'm a laughable failure. Now my screw up has doomed Jocelyn. I've killed her, as good as if I'd shot her..."

Cruiser Lake

Part 5 of 5

by Sigh
Copyright © 2012 plaintivesigh
All Rights Reserved.

CHAPTER 13

Night had fallen. Alan held a bedside vigil, constantly listening to make sure Jocelyn was breathing regularly.

At one-fifteen a.m. she awoke. “Alan… “

“What is it, love. Are you hurting?”

“Less. Alan… I can't leave you.”

“Huh?”

“I thought I could be strong enough… but I’m not. I’m not able to stand… a minute apart from you… even if it’s for your own good... please don't leave.”

“Baby, I’m never leaving. Never. I think you’re having a bad dream. Just know I’ve been right here by you all the time.” He lightly kissed her on the lips, the cheeks, the forehead, and repeated all multiple times, as she weakly wept.

Feeling her pulse become thready, he figured her blood pressure was low. He heated up some snow and had her drink as much as she could tolerate.

~o~O~o~

Four forty-two a.m. She whispered, “Alan.” Her breathing was more labored.

“HUH. Unnph. Ah, I’m awake… yes. What, darling.”

“Alan… please listen. I think… I’m dying… and,”

“Sh-sh-sh, babe. No. No you’re not. I won’t let you. I won’t let it happen. Please stop talking like that.”

“Please, Alan… just listen… to me. Please?”

He gritted his molars to keep from sobbing. “N’kay.”

“Alan… if I die… please leave me… and live… don’t stay here… and die too… promise me.”

He stayed quiet, shoulders moving up and down in spasms of slow, rhythmic jerks. Then, in a quavering voice through tight teeth, “I’m… nvr… lving… yu.”

“Promise me… Alan.”

“Nu.”

“Alan…” she was weeping now, “please… promise me!”

He broke into open wailing, holding his face in his hands.

“Please… Alan…”

He couldn’t answer verbally. He continued to cover his face and bawl, but he nodded his head.

“Thank you… Alan… I love you… my whole life… of hell was… worth it… for these past days… with you…”

He choked back some tears, and whispered, “Pleeease… don’t leave, Jos… please don’t leave me… please, fight…” and then, his wailing resumed.

~o~O~o~

Alan checked his watch. Six fifty-nine a.m.

Jocelyn was still breathing, but he had not been able to get her to speak for the last half hour or so. She’d still open her eyes and look at him for a second, but then they’d close again. She was dying. And he didn’t want to continue to live without her.

Why did I agree to try to live after she was gone? Now I have to honor that. But I don’t want to. My life is unlivable without her. What the hell will I have to live for?

He turned his red, now angry eyes skyward as he began a silent prayer. God! Why let her die now? Why not let us both die in the crash, at the bottom of the lake? Why allow her — and me — all this pain? I think I still believe that you’re really there, but I’m guessing that you’re a sadistic bastard. You heard me. Letting me get hope — not just for our rescue, but also for our future life — just to snatch it away. Helping me with the little requests, like for fish bait and stove fuel, but not sending a rescue? Hey, how many times have I asked for that now? I’m giving you one more chance to prove you’re not an ass. KEEP JOS ALIVE — SAVE HER, AND SEND HELP NOW. Or are you too busy snowing us in further?

He laid his head down on the bed next to Jocelyn, stroking her unbitten arm. He listened to her breathing, the only noise in this silent place. Except for the faint hum.

Alan’s head shot up. A hum?

He jumped to his feet. What was it — a snowmobile? A sick bird, or a sick joke from God, again? As he leapt into the big room, he noticed the rays of light streaming in the loft windows, the first bright sunbeams he’d seen since they’d been stuck here. He flew up the ladder to the loft, as the humming got suddenly louder. He opened up a window, and knew what was causing the noise.

Plane!

It suddenly appeared straight overhead, maybe only thirty feet from the roof, and flew away from Alan and the window. He now only saw the rear tail becoming more distant with each second. His body was nearly completely over the ledge, with arms waving wildly.

“HEY! HEEEEYYYY!”

Gone, dammit! He had to be Search and Rescue. He was flying low to look for signs of us — or someone.

His heart sank. Who knows when the plane would come over again, or if it would at all? He was probably combing a vast area, since no one knows exactly where we traveled. And I had no signal of any kind out ‘cause I thought it was still snowing. I’m a laughable failure. Now my screw up has doomed Jocelyn. I’ve killed her, as good as if I’d shot her through-

Be quiet, Lacy.

He heard Jocelyn’s strong, loving voice. Drowning out Lacy’s, and all others.

Alan, no matter what happens, you are a success, a hero. And I know that while I am still breathing, you will try with all of your might to save me — to save us. Because that’s who you really are. You never give up. You never quit. I can always count on you to fight as long as there’s hope. That’s the Alan I know.

Hearing her voice — in his soul, it came as clear as if she was talking into his ear — did something to Alan. Despite his lack of sleep, his achy muscles, the seeming hopelessness of the situation, he felt as if he had touched a live light socket. Thoughts began racing through his mind as his body straightened and vision became laser focused.

I need a signal. One he’ll see from miles away, if he doesn’t fly right by here again.

More words from a page came — the exact ones he needed.

He knew what to do. But first, the stuck damper needed to get open.

Fireplace is the only reliable spot. There’s too much deep snow outside to build one there. So, damper — you WILL become unstuck, and NOW.

He grabbed the handle at the top of the fireplace inside the burn area. Pulling with more might than he’d pulled anything in recent years, there was no budge. He reached into the hearth, then after pulling out the wood grate, crouched into it. Using his legs and back, he pushed up on the stuck metal plate of the old damper. Nothing happened. He squatted low, then exploded into the plate with his shoulders and shoulder blades. His legs burned as he pushed. He was sure his face was crimson as he exerted every muscle he knew he had, and a few he’d just become aware of, to put pressure on the stuck device.

“NNNNGGHH… MOVE, DAMMIT… OPEN, SAYS ME!”

CRACK!

The sound was so loud that for a second Alan wondered if his back had broken. Then the damper fell apart all around him, and clanged at his feet in a couple of broken metal plates plus a handle.

Works for me. Flue’s open.

He used the axe he’d brought in from the woodshed to cut up the wooden dining room chairs in one minute. He piled the pieces into the fireplace; then set more quickly ripped out book pages under the wood, and doused it all lightly with liquid camping stove fuel for good measure. The fire immediately caught. It produced heat, but he needed thicker smoke. He put the somewhat wet wood logs from the first aborted fire attempt days ago on too; now there was some white smoke. A dash outside to get some fresh pine branches with needles (shaking the snow off first of course) proved to do the trick. Once the branches went on the fire, plenty of white smoke was going up the chimney.

A quick check of Jocelyn showed she was still breathing. Hang in there, baby.

~o~O~o~

The A-frame house wasn’t as visible from the outside as usual. That’s because of the snow that had built up this week — the first floor was covered in drifts. The only two windows visible were the ones at the front on the second level, looking out from the loft. And now one of the windows was opening.

Alan climbed out onto the ledge, a drawstring from the first floor curtains tied around his waist and leading back inside the windowsill. Standing on the sill, he could almost just reach the metal roof of the A-frame with his fingertips. He squatted slightly, then jumped. Grabbing ahold of the roof ledge now, he grunted as he pulled himself up onto the structure, defiantly undeterred by the snow buildup. Now straddling the rooftop with one foot on each steeply pitched side, he started reeling in the curtain drawstring. Coming through the window now were two blankets rolled together, with the other end of the drawstring tied around them.

~o~O~o~

Cyrus “Hawkeye” Thatchett flew low and solo over the trees, scanning for any sign of human life, especially distress. This was his thirty-sixth year of working with Montana Search and Rescue, and this routine was old hat to him. He didn’t hold out much hope for this search though. Looking for two men, both reported to have left Missoula for Helena on December 24th, five days ago. The HiPat search along the interstate route had been fruitless. So now in his trusty single engine Cessna Skylane, he was flying over the smattering of little winding high altitude roads connecting highway 12 to Helena in alternate routes. Five days was a long time to be stranded in the snow. And still be alive, that is. So much had piled up recently; they could be covered in feet of it. If they were really in these hills and mountains, their bodies might not be found ‘til spring.

“Eagle base to two three foxtrot, can you read me, over,” came a monotone voice. It was Richard, the new director of MS&R for this region. He was an import from the east coast. Cyrus hadn’t warmed to him yet, to put it diplomatically.

“Eagle, this is 23 Foxtrot.”

“23 Foxtrot, we may have you abort this search for a fresher one north of here. A man drove off into the night after getting drunk and fighting with his wife early this morning. Have you had any luck with current search yet, over.”

“No luck yet, Eagle.”

Richard Sponn, new director of Eagle base operations, sighed. When were these country hicks going to learn to speak correctly with aviation language? Cyrus hadn’t ended with an ‘over’. “23 Foxtrot, how’s your fuel, over.”

“Eagle base: pretty good. At least 3 hours left… over,” then releasing the com so he wouldn’t be heard, “you just can’t stand me not saying ‘over’ every time, can you, y’ greenhorn.” Cy wore a passive-aggressive sneer.

“23 Foxtrot, stand by while we arrange new mission parameters, over.”

Cyrus sighed. He understood the reasoning for abandoning the current search; he just didn’t like giving up on anyone. When he had to turn north, he’d fly over some of the terrain he’d already covered one last time.

Something caught the corner of his eye. He pulled out his binoculars. Sure enough, there was a smoke trail, originating in one of the multiple small valleys. That could mean any number of things, most of them unremarkable-

He held his breath. The smoke was no longer in a continuous flume near the ground line. There now appeared big interrupted puffs…

“23 Foxtrot to Eagle base. Mobilize rescue to just north of Red Mountain. We have a distress signal coming from there. Will get you exact GPS coordinates in a minute, over.”

Richard’s response sounded skeptical. “Foxtrot, Base here. Please confirm with visual first. What type of distress signal, over.”

“Smoke, Eagle.”

There’s no way I’m ringing the bell for a wild goose chase over someone’s campfire, thought Richard. Now if Cy saw other signs of distress, then fine. “Foxtrot, confirm visually please, over.”

I’m visualizin’ the smoke, dagnabbit, fumed Cy. “Eagle base. MOBILIZE THE RESPONSE TEAM. The smoke is coming in three definite puffs followed by a prolonged stream, then is being repeated. It’s smoke signal for mayday, OVER.”

Richard was getting irritated. He was about to — civilly — read Cyrus the riot act. Then he noticed the stares of three of the base personnel. “Boss… that’s the Boy Scout / Native American S.O.S. - three puffs,” said Brian, Richard’s #2 man.

“Eagle base to 23 Foxtrot. We are mobilizing the team. Please respond with GPS coordinates ASAP. Over.”

“THANK you,” spat Cyrus, then picked the com back up and said “Roger that.” Three puffs. Any cub scout worth his salt would know that.

~o~O~o~

Please, God. Let him see. Let someone see, prayed Alan, working the chimney smoke with his brown blanket.

Then, he heard the plane again. Looking behind him, he saw it making a beeline for the cabin.

“HEEEEYYY!” - He said, flailing. He then motioned wildly towards the red blanket he had cut in half, folded into a pattern and laid on the roof.

~o~O~o~

Cyrus saw a man on the roof of a cabin, standing next to the smoking chimney. He was gesticulating about something-

“What in tarnation... !” He grabbed the com.

“Eagle base. Recommend we send the AirEvac ‘copter. I have made visual contact with a man on a roof; he’s laid out cloth in the shape of a red cross, and he looks like he’s havin’ a conniption fit. Strongly suspect a medical emergency. If these are the two we’re looking for, I don’t see the other one. Over.”

~o~O~o~

For a second, Alan was terrified as it seemed the plane was beginning to dip it’s right wing to bank away. But no, it started alternately dipping both its wings. It looked like it was waving at him. It then passed directly over him and through the white plume, making swirly smoke rings in the air.

He saw. He saw! OK, God. This isn’t over yet. You’re still in the doghouse with me until Jocelyn lives, and recovers intact. Thanks, though. Alan made his way to hop back inside the window.

~o~O~o~

The rescue helicopter had made a textbook deep snow landing in a small clearing near the cabin. It was now yawing towards its nose, but was steady and stable. Alan had run out at the noise and motioned wildly to the cabin entrance. Jocelyn’s breathing had been getting shallower. The EMTs were thankful that the front door entrance had been kept relatively shoveled — it was much easier and faster to transport their patient out that way than try to feed the stretcher through one of the loft windows.

“Is she going to be OK?” Alan shouted, following them as they rushed her to the ‘copter.

They gave no answer, intently evaluating the pale woman they were loading through the side door. There was enough room for Alan, so he boarded too. He warned the crew about Jocelyn’s transitioning status. The warning part was actually to emphasize that although they were to look up her old records and insurance info under the name Joseph O’Donnell, they were to refer to her as a woman named Jocelyn. Alan found himself wishing that they would show some reaction — any kind — to that news; the fact that it seemed to not faze them as they tried to save her emphasized how serious her condition had become.

As the airship took off for Helena, the two EMTs began to work even more furiously on her. One of them slipped a breathing tube down her throat as the other one prepared to do chest compressions. Alan could only watch terrified as they performed CPR on his reason for living.

~o~O~o~

CHAPTER 14

Darkness.

Tied down. Imprisoned.

I'm being... held captive... no, tortured... experimented on...

"Take a deep breath, sir. Now hold it, now blow it out."

Jocelyn coughed, and the cough startled her to consciousness. She was gradually aware of awakening in a foreign place. And unlike Christmas morning with Alan, she did NOT feel safe. She was trapped.

She was unable to talk. A gag was in her mouth, and stuffed down her throat. Her arms and legs were tied down at the wrists and ankles. There were tubes and wires and beeping monitors all around. She wasn’t at home, or in the cabin, but in… a laboratory of some sort? Was she part of some science fiction/horror experiment? She started to writhe around in a desperate attempt to get free.

“Hey there, buddy. Relax. Just breathe,” said a detached voice. Jocelyn turned her neck — ow! That scraped my throat to do that — and saw a man in maroon scrubs, patting her on the shoulder, but watching a monitor. He didn’t care about her; he was just doing the dirty deeds for whichever mad scientist ran this place.

“Max! I told you to alert me when you started to do this!” A blonde woman in blue scrubs and a stethoscope around her neck sped into the room. “Hey there, honey. My name is Sasha. I’m your nurse; you’re in the hospital, and in the intensive care unit. Max here is the respiratory therapist, and he’s testing your lung strength so we can see if we can finally take you off of the ventilator.”

“He’s got good inspiratory force,” yawned Max. “Should be OK to extubate.”

Sasha walked over and grabbed his arm, pulling him to the side. “Didn’t you get the full report on this patient when you came on duty? She’s to be called her female name and referred to as ‘she’.”

“But it’s a guy.”

Sasha’s nails dug into his bicep, and he winced. “SHE is not an ‘IT’. Dr. Rast gave specific instructions regarding this. Shall I tell him you don’t want to comply?”

Max shook his head. He liked his butt. He didn’t need Rast biting it off. “I-I’m sorry, miss. I haven’t had my coffee yet this morning. I’ll call Dr. Ingram — he’s your pulmonologist-”

“That’s lung specialist, hon,” explained Sasha.

“- and if he wants, I’ll be back to pull that tube out. Then you’ll be able to talk.”

Sasha stayed with Jocelyn, holding her hand and telling her what had been going on. It was January 4th. She was starting her 6th consecutive day in the ICU at St. Peter’s hospital in Helena, arriving there via Montana Search and Rescue. There were two episodes where her heart stopped due to critical blood loss— one en route, and one just after arrival. She’d developed fluid in her lungs and has a mild pneumonia, necessitating the ventilator. Not to mention the six pints of blood transfusions, two operations to repair her wounds as well as beginning a series of rabies shots. It was a miracle that she was alive.

Sasha searched Jocelyn’s face for signs of comprehension. They had no way of knowing yet if she had suffered brain damage from the cardiac arrests, and if so, how much. Her patient seemed to nod her head appropriately as she talked. That’s encouraging, she hoped.

Jocelyn made a writing-with-pen-like motion with her right hand. Sasha smiled brightly. She wanted to write a note! That’s super encouraging. The nurse brought a notepad with a big pencil, and untied Jocelyn’s wrist restraints. She scribbled out a fast message and showed it to Sasha.

“Why haven’t I been awake for any of this until now?”

“Oh! Sorry honey, I forgot to tell you. You had such pain, and you were fighting the ventilator so much, that your docs thought it would be best to keep you sedated with medicine until you healed enough. And today, they thought you had. I turned off your sedatives about fifteen minutes before Max did his stuff with you this morning.”

Jocelyn wrote more. “Alan…?”

“Aahhh… your special friend,” Sasha said with twinkly eyes. “He caused quite a ruckus here. Insisted on staying with you around the clock, and we have strict visiting hours. He went toe-to-toe with Dr. Rast about it, brave soul. We finally agreed for him to stay in the ICU waiting area and even sleep there. We’ve rarely allowed that. He’s probably out there now, waiting for us to get your tube out so we can let him back in here.

“Or, possibly, he could be at work. Did you know that he went and interviewed for a job here in Helena two days ago, and got it? I tell you, he seems like an impressive guy. You are one lucky girl.”

Jocelyn was already thinking otherwise. He’s started his job. Getting on with his life. As he should. He deserves the best out of life. And I… I am not the best. She looked at Sasha. Her nurse was gorgeous. Long wavy blonde hair, pixie face, under 5’6”, curvy and huge breasts that would be cannons if she wore the right bra. And no ring on her left hand.

Jocelyn wrote again. “Do you like him? You and he would make a good couple.”

Sasha read this with confusion and a little dismay. Then, raising one eyebrow, she smiled slightly. She came towards Jocelyn’s face and whispered in her ear.

“Sorry… I like girls, hon.”

Jocelyn now wore the look of dismay. Darn. She would have been so right for him. Yay!... calm down, Jos. Remember: this love was a pipe dream. A pipe dream.

“Okay, we’re ready to take your breathing tube out.” Max had returned. The procedure was mercifully quick. She was given breathing medicine in a mist right after, and put on an oxygen mask, which they were quickly able to convert to a small two pronged nose tube. Thankfully, the foot restraints were also taken off.

Sasha was standing by. “Now, missy. Can you try talking some?”

“I — kkk!” Jocelyn grabbed her neck and grimaced in discomfort.

“Oooo-kay… sometimes after having that tube in for a while your vocal chords are really sore. Don’t talk and hurt yourself. Sipping some hot fluid and giving your voice a rest will be best. You’ll probably be lots better tomorrow. Let’s just use the pad and pencil until then.”

“Well, hello there, sleeping beauty!” The booming welcome came from a portly man in the room. He was mostly bald with wisps of gray hair, a wide smile framed with a white handlebar mustache plus short white beard, and small glasses perched on his nose. The name on his crisp buttoned white coat said “B.J. RAST, M.D., SURGERY”. Behind him stood another doctor, this one thin, clean-shaven and appearing more reserved than the big one, but still smiling. His ID tag said “Ingram, M.D.”.

Both doctors walked to the bed. Rast continued to talk. “About time you healed up enough to wake up. Usually all it takes is one kiss from Prince Charming to do the trick. Your prince has been lavishing you with smooches multiple times every day… he’s got a thing or two to learn about breaking spells, I guess. How are you feeling?”

Jocelyn wrote on her pad while Sasha pointed to her throat and shook her head. Dr. Ingram grunted, and nodded his. Jos turned the pad to Dr. Rast. “A little sore in the throat, otherwise OK.”

Both docs examined her and asked questions, including questions meant to test her brain function. She passed with flying colors according to Dr. Rast. They also answered her questions to them regarding her physical condition.

“I like how things are looking. Don’t get me wrong; you’re not out of the woods yet. But at least you’re out of the quicksand,” chuckled Rast.

“Thank you, Santa,” wrote Jocelyn, smiling and tearing with appreciation.

“I get that a lot, miss,” returned Rast. “By the way, your boyfriend was very insistent that you be referred to in the female gender. You have a real keeper there, if you ask me.” The two doctors then left.

All of this activity after nearly a week of bedrest left Jocelyn exhausted, and Sasha let her sleep. In 30 minutes, she awoke again, this time to two voices just outside her door.

“She can’t talk just yet, Mr. S, but she can write notes.” “Okay.”

Sasha, and… Alan!

Oh God, no. I’m not ready to see him yet. I’m going to have to tell him that we’re through. I just can’t do it now, especially not being able to talk. And especially since I can’t bear the thought of living without him. Maybe if he thinks I’m still asleep he’ll leave.

Alan and Sasha walked in. “Oh, she’s still snoozing. If you want to go out in the waiting area, I can call you as soon as she wakes, Mr. S.” whispered the nurse.

“Can’t I just stay in here quietly and be with her?” he breathed back.

“Sure. Just be aware she needs her rest.” Jocelyn heard the soft falls of Sasha’s footsteps leaving the room.

Jocelyn lay motionless. She could hear Alan breathe on occasion. In a minute, she heard his chair scoot on the floor, pulling up to her bed. Then she felt that he was grasping her hand gently. And heard him start to whisper.

“Jocelyn. I’m so happy that you’re recovering. If you had died, I don’t know what I would have done. I’ve wanted to talk to you so badly; I just can’t wait any longer. So I hope you can hear me on some level, maybe even in your soul.

“We had an intense experience together. I will always treasure it — except the ‘you almost dying’ part. And I know that I asked you to marry me. After getting back to real life, I can say that I was wrong to do that; I acted too hastily. I’m so sorry, baby. You see, I… I just can’t marry you.”

He then paused. Jocelyn felt as if she was starting to die all over again. But I can’t cry; I can’t let on I hear him. That would destroy me even more. God, Alan, get it over with and leave so I can suffer alone.

But he stayed, and began whispering again. “The main reason is because even though to me you’re all woman, your documents still have you listed as male, and two men marrying still isn’t legal in Montana. So until that law — or your documents — change, we’re just going to have to shack up together. I've been looking in the paper for an apartment for us. Besides, I’ve already tried the five-two, blond blue-eyed D-cup genetic girl. Or have you never seen a picture of Lacy?”

Jocelyn’s eyes opened as big as saucers. She raised her head to look at Alan, who was sporting his glorious toothy smile with just a hint of devilishness in his eyes.

“And baby, I’m way, way better at faking being asleep than you are.”

Jocelyn was pouring tears of relief, joy, and release. She sat up and reached for Alan.

“Watch your right forearm, Jos. It’s still pretty fresh from surgery.”

Like she could care. She wrapped her right arm around him as best she could, and grabbed him in a tight squeeze around his shoulders with her left. They hugged and rocked for what seemed like twenty minutes. Alan whispered into her ear.

“I love you. I love you so much. I want to spend the rest of my life loving you back for what you’ve done for me. I know I will face judgment and hate and discrimination, but it’s worth it to me, as long as I get to be with you. I want to stand beside you and be strong for you when others try to treat you — us — with disgust. So see — I am going into this eyes wide open. It’s my choice.

“And as soon as it’s feasible, I will marry you; again, if you’ll have an old guy like me.” Jocelyn nodded as vigorously as she could so he would understand. They kissed each other’s necks, cheeks, foreheads; Jocelyn avoided open mouth, until Alan thoughtfully produced some Tic-Tacs. After she’d had five of them, she allowed their tongues to mingle.

Eventually, they broke, and Alan turned serious. “I’m not going to have this romance fail. I’d like us both to start counseling, both as a couple and individually, as soon as you get out of here. I know I’ll have to scrimp and save to do so, and we may have to pool our resources. But we don’t need our past emotional baggage screwing this up. Would you be okay with that?” He got two ‘thumbs up’ from his mute sweetheart, followed by another long kiss.

When their osculation paused, Jocelyn wrote on her pad. “So you heard everything I whispered to you that night in the cabin? You weren’t asleep?”

“I’ll have to say, when I heard you saying that stuff, I wanted to tell you how wrong you were. You were trying to be sneaky there, ‘speaking to my subconscious’ and all. So I wanted to get you back in a sneaky but loving way. I was going to do it the next night, then the wolves and everything happened. But this was a pretty sweet revenge, wouldn’t you say?” He was grinning again.

She looked lovingly into his eyes. Then she began unbuttoning his shirt, a fog of sudden lust on her face. Alan whispered, “Honey, we’re here in the hospital…” as she reached inside to stroke his bare chest.

She then found his nipple and pinched the hell out of it.

“OW OW OW- okay, okay, are we even now?” he whimpered.

~o~O~o~

CHAPTER 15

Jocelyn looked in the mirror.

Her wedding dress sparkled in the reflection. Her long, waist length hair had been dyed to look it’s full sleek natural black again, rather than showing the gray that had crept in the last few years. Cynthia — her best friend and maid of honor — and Alan’s sister Charlene were fussing over her, helping perfect her makeup and getting everything in order. The ceremony was ten minutes away.

“I can’t believe this is happening. It’s like a dream come true,” she whispered.

“About time, too. You’re forty-four, Alan’s sixty-two and your Dad is seventy,” Cynthia muttered. “What took him so long?”

“Cyn, you can bring up all the negatives you want,” Jos sang. “Nothing can spoil the joy of this day for me.”

A knock came on the door. “All you hens decent in there?” It was Jocelyn’s father.

“As long as the groom’s not with you, come in.”

“Hi there, daughter. Got a surprise for ya.” Her father walked in followed by an unexpected figure.

“Mom?... MOM! Oh my God! I thought…”

“Hello… ah… ‘Jocelyn’.” She blushed as she said her daughter’s name. “Goodness me, you really look lovely.”

Seamus O’Donnell hugged his wife. “This is still a hard thing for her. But a big part of her wants to have you in her life again. I’ve been telling her what an impressive child you are. And she finally read the book.”

The book. Is there no end to the good that it will accomplish? Jocelyn thought.

“Mom… thank you so much for coming.”

Katie O’Donnell stammered. “Honey… can I call you “JoJo” like your father does? I think that would be easiest for me…”

“Absolutely.” Jocelyn smiled. She knew “JoJo” was similar to the “Joe” she had despised for so long. But “JoJo” was feminine, and fine. Especially if it meant being a part of her parent’s lives again.

“Mom… can I have a hug?”

Both women embraced and began to weep. Everyone in the room wept.

Cyn dialed a number on her cell phone. “Tell that organist to keep playing hymns for at least ten minutes more (sniff). Major makeup damage control is about to commence.”

Finally the group arrived into the church foyer.

“Mom, the usher will seat you at the front. Let’s talk more at the reception, OK? I love you so much.”

“I love you too, JoJo. And… your father has another surprise for you, I think.”

Jocelyn turned to the man whose arm she held. “Dad?”

He looked at his daughter’s eyes. “Why don’t you call me… Daddy.”

Cyn mouthed to the front of the sanctuary, “MORE ORGAN HYMNS!”

~o~O~o~

Seventeen minutes late, the ceremony began. Charlene was one of the bridesmaids, as was young Haley O’Donnell, all sixteen years of her. Aleisha and Alexis, Alan's twins, were also in the procession. Jake O’Donnell was a little old for the classic ring bearer role at nine, but he was so unfocused at times that it was wisely decided that he wouldn’t be a young groomsman. A mostly bald Alan Sarkisian stood at the front of the room with the minister. As the wedding march started to play, old Seamus O’Donnell escorted a vision in white lace and satin down the aisle.

An angel, thought Alan. My snow angel.

When the music stopped, the minister spoke. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate…

“…the tenth anniversary of Alan and Jocelyn Sarkisian, with a renewal of their vows, and a recreation of their ceremony, except this time with the actual father of the bride giving away his daughter.”

The ceremony was fairly similar to their marriage ten years ago. Jocelyn still fit perfectly into her original wedding gown. However, Seamus did get to say “her mother and I” when the question “who gives this woman’s hand in marriage?” was stated. And when the “bride” and “groom” said their vows, they embellished it with “I truly, madly, deeply do”. By the end, there was nary a dry eye in the place (except for Jake, who was counting the seconds until they could get to the food).

Finally Alan and Jocelyn walked down the aisle as a commemoration of their 10 years as man and wife. Then pictures were taken — getting Jake to smile while simultaneously keeping Haley from sending/reading texts was a challenge — and the whole group left for the reception hall.

~o~O~o~

Jocelyn got the two children together. “Are you two really wanting to do this? You know you don’t have to. Dad and I love both of you whether you do or not.”

Haley said, “Mom — I want to. I’ve practiced this, I want to be part of this.”

“If she gets to then I get to!” spouted Jake.

Dingdingdingdingding, rang a glass at the head table of the reception.

Alan’s “best man”, his business partner at Jocelyn marketing consultants, gave a speech. So did various others. But the most anticipated speakers were saved till last.

Beginning with Jason Alambrus Barney, the area LGBT champion.

“Jocelyn and I have not always been friends. I approached her in hopes that she would help us with our activism her after her and Alan’s story hit the news. Her response to me was classic Jocelyn: ‘I don’t want to be a gender crusader.’ So I filed her under ‘lacks the courage to influence change’. Oh, how wrong I was.

“Jocelyn’s style has never been to be part of a march, or filing a lawsuit, or doing TV interviews. She just wanted to be a woman… a full expression of womanhood. A woman who visited her neighbors down the block when they were hospitalized, and made sure their mail and papers were picked up, and their pets taken care of. One who volunteered at the women’s shelter, and made regular visits to the local retirement centers to help them deal with the digital age. She has made service part of her everyday life, while not shying from the fact that she is a transgendered female. As a result, she has reached people that I would never be able to reach, softening their hearts towards the rest of us.

“She will tell you that her courage to love ferociously comes from the love and support of her husband, the man she calls her hero. He has supported her emotionally and morally, and is a place of refuge she can run to when life gets tough. The funny thing is, when you talk to him, that’s what he says about her — she’s his angel, and she transformed his life, by helping him overcome verbal abuse that just about did him in. To first hear her talk, she sounds like the antithesis of the modern liberated woman; she idolizes her husband. Yet what has happened is their love for each other liberated each of them from their own personal prisons.

“Then there’s their story, the book “Cruiser Lake”. Not only did it spend a little time on the NYT bestseller list, but also many credit this book as one of the catalysts that led to the Boy Scouts of America dropping their policies against LGBT members and leaders early this year.

“One of the most unique ways they have served my community is their aggressive search for and adoption of children who are not only without a family, but are transgendered or intersexed. I understand that the kids will be speaking later, so I won’t steal their thunder.

“Just one more thing: we all need to say a big “thank you” to Alan’s sister Charlene, who turned his heart to be open to our people. Without her, Alan and Jocelyn never would have happened.”

“I just planted the seed, Alan kept it nurtured and Jocelyn added moisture and nutrition,” Charlene yelled.

“Are you saying I gave Alan a load of manure?” Jocelyn laughed, and everyone else did too.

Then, Seamus O’Donnell spoke.

“Well, hello everyone. Thanks for giving an old goat a chance to bleat.

“I was very angry and disappointed to hear about Joseph’s decision to change sex. I blamed it on a lot of things. On his mother, for babying him too much as a child. On new-fangled new-age perversion. And of course, I blamed myself for being a drunkard instead of a proper father. Nevertheless, my wife and I considered Joseph dead to us when he told us he was changing into a girl. (That’s what I called what he was doin’.)

“Then one day, I got a phone call from this salesman who wants to take me out to a steak dinner. Well, I never met a piece of dead cow I didn’t like. He meets with me and tells me who he is, and that he’s marrying my Joseph, who now goes by Jocelyn. Well, I almost walked out on him then and there. But Alan, blast it, has this smile that would make a Jew eat bacon. He tells me he wants nothing of me but a chance to take me out to a great restaurant every two months or so. I shouldn’t have agreed to it. But he could sell ice to Eskimos, this guy.

“Then I get a copy of this book, this “Cruiser Lake”. It tells the tale of Alan and JoJo and how they got started. A great story. Those of you who were invited to this exclusive night got a complimentary copy, and if you didn’t read it yet, shame on you. Well, I read it. I laughed at the part where Alan’s pants fell down in the snow because he had no belt.”

Alan smiled and shook his head. I can’t believe I included that part in the book.

“And although it took years — and a lot of great steak dinners — my heart started to melt from its deep freeze. It took a while; too long, dang it. Nine months ago I finally agree to meet JoJo. I didn’t want to love her. She took my Joe away from me. But I couldn’t help to fall in love with her. And now my wife — JoJo’s mother — is reconciling to our daughter too. I told JoJo that I was sorry I wasn’t there for her for so long, even made a comment about how I wish I could have given her away to Alan. And from that comment, here we all are.

“I offered to use some of my dry cleaning riches to bless them. I found the owner of that cabin up by Red Mountain, and proposed to JoJo and Alan that I buy it and give it to them as a gift — you know, so they can go there whenever they want to and reminisce. I’ll let them tell you their answer.”

Both Alan and Jocelyn cupped their palms to frame their lips and yelled, “Hell no!” Laughter filled the hall.

“Lastly, Alan, JoJo: I want to thank you for the gifts of Haley and Jake. We had only one child; with that child being female now and taking on Alan’s name, our dream of grandchildren — and someone to carry on the family name — seemed lost. With their adoption, we have grandkids. With their adopted name of O’Donnell, we continue to have a legacy…” At this point, Seamus had to stop and compose himself.

Haley’s was short and sweet. “My name is Haley O’Donnell. I am a transgender female. I am proud of who I am, and I know my Mom and Dad will always love me and always be proud of me. Thank you all for accepting me and my family.”

Jake’s was even shorter. “I’m Jake O’Donnell. I’m inter… intersix? But I’m all boy, and I like baseball and sausage pizza and the Colorado Rockies. Go Rockies!”

Then the dancing started. Jocelyn cried when her father danced with her. Alan swept Katie O’Donnell off her feet. And the anniversary couple danced to their signature song: Joe Cocker’s “You Are So Beautiful”.

~o~O~o~

The deejay continued to play songs, and people continued to dance. Alan and Jocelyn were now sitting down in a warped circle of chairs, surrounded by family members. Many significant conversations occurred simultaneously….

~o~O~o~

Katie O’ Donnell watched Seamus dance with Haley. She then felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Mrs. O’Donnell? Jocelyn’s mother? I’m Phoebe Sarkisian, Alan’s mother.”

“Oh! Pleased to meet you, Phoebe! Seamus has told me so much about Alan. And I feel like I know him so much, reading ‘Cruiser Lake’. You did a good job of raising that young man; you’re obviously a good mother. I’m hoping to get to know him better; I’m kind of the ‘last straggler’ to come around and join the family.”

“How’s that going for you, by the way?” Phoebe never was one to mince words.

“It’s… oh… I’m sorry. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me, dear. I’ll bet we have more in common than you think.”

“Oh… it’s…” She sighed. “Everyone here treats all of this so normal, as if they’re not bothered by it at all. They all know JoJo used to be a man. It’s as if her now being female is the most natural thing.”

“They only asked people who are accepting of them. This whole shindig is an ‘invitation only’ affair.”

“Why can’t I feel the same way? I want a relationship with her… why does my heart still ache about this?”

“Just because you gained a fantastic daughter doesn’t mean that you didn’t lose a son. You sound like you’re still grieving.”

“I think I’ve still been holding on to hope that one day Joseph will ‘see the light’ and come to his senses… this ceremony kind of seals it for me; that day will never happen.”

Phoebe smiled. “Is that really such a bad thing? Look how happy she is. I know my Alan has never been happier; definitely not with Zelda and Brunhilda.”

“Who…?”

“The two witches he was married to previously.”

Katie laughed. “I know my child is happier than she’s ever been. I know it. And there’s no way I would magically make her male again if it meant being as unhappy as he was then. It’s just… sex changing goes against what I’ve been taught, what I believe.”

“Are you a Christian? I am.”

“Yes. ….You are? How did you deal with this? Does your church believe that homosexuality and transsexualism is okay with God?”

“No. They don’t. And believe you me, when I go to church every week there’s always someone who’s praying that my son will “repent” and avoid hell.”

“That’s what scares me to death,” Katie shook. “I’m afraid Joseph — JoJo — will go to hell if she stays this way. That’s what my pastor teaches.”

“Hm. I’ve done some reading of the good book, and I’ve drawn a different conclusion. Do you ever sin, Katie?”

“Every day, Phoebe. If getting angry, or getting fearful, or oversleeping is sin — and often they are, I believe — then I do daily. But I pray for God to forgive me.”

“Gluttony is a sin, per the Bible. Yet, despite my repeated trials to avoid it, here I am, a fatso at eighty-four. And I pray for forgiveness daily, and for grace. Yet still this is so. So are we going to hell?”

“No! The whole deal with forgiveness is that we all need it! There’s only one sin that I’ve heard is unforgivable — the ‘blaspheming of the Spirit’, whatever that is.”

“That’s where you take something God did, and say the devil did it. That’s not what Jocelyn’s done. And both she and Alan have been daily praying people since that frozen lake episode. Is changing your sex sinning? I don’t think so, not anymore. But even if it is, since it’s not ‘unforgivable’, then I think JoJo’s graveyard elevator is going up, not down. It’s not our job to police our kid’s virtues and sins, anyway. Our job, ‘ccording to the book, is to love. Love thy neighbor as thyself. So that’s what I do with Alan and Jocelyn and my grandkids.”

“I… I think I could do that! I could look at it that way! I can just love her, no matter what I’ve believed about her ‘condition’. Love her - unconditionally, as they say.”

“You sure are your daughter’s Momma, ‘as they say’,” Phoebe laughed. “My job is to love. And I do love my job, especially when I get to take care of Haley and Jake, like I’m doing this week.”

“I would love to start being a part of their lives,” yearned Katie.

“Hmm… I have a proposal,” twinkled Phoebe.

~o~O~o~

“Mom,” Haley gloomed, “I think Marco’s gonna break up with me. Ashley just texted me that he was with another girl at the theater tonight.”

“Oh, baby. I’m so sorry,” cooed Jocelyn. “Are you worried that he’s leaving because of your past?”

“You mean, me being born a boy? No. I think it’s because I… I wouldn’t…”

“…You wouldn’t give him a blow job?”

“MOM!... Yeah. Something like that.”

“Haley. You deserve better than a guy who would drop you just because you won’t ‘put out’. I’m proud of you for standing your ground there.”

“Mom, I don’t think I’ll ever find the right guy. I don’t know if guys like Dad exist anymore. I hear all the things you say about him, and they’re all true. You are so lucky.”

“Oh honey. At sixteen, every thing seems so earth-shatteringly important and final. You know I didn’t find love until I was thirty-three. And you’re right, your Dad is all those things I say… and part of the reason he is, is because I say them.”

“Huh?”

“Haley, your Dad lives and dies with the words told to him. That’s why I’m so insistent that you and Jake speak only with respect to him. When I tell him how good he is, it gives him the strength to actually be that good. That’s why I do so every day, whether I feel like it or not. Words of caring and affirmation are his ‘love language’ — how I can best show my love to him. And you know what? When I take care of that need for him, he more than takes care of my needs.”

“So… the best way for me to fall in love is to talk to guys about how good they are?”

“Um, no. But it may be a way you can keep a guy who you find is ‘the one’. But everyone has a different love language. Don’t worry about what to do to attract a boyfriend. Focus on being loving, giving, kind, and compassionate — and happy, in spite of not having a steady. You should attract more boys — quality ones — than sugar does ants.”

~o~O~o~

Jake stomped over to his father and plopped on the chair next to him, arms folded, scowling-faced. Alan had seen this before.

“What’s gotten under your skin, sport?”

“Dad… WHY didn’t you take that cabin from Grandpa Seamus? We could ‘a gone ice fishing, and wolf killin’, like you and Mom did!”

“Jake… your Mom almost died in that cabin, twice. No thanks, that’s a memory I won’t return to. But… now that we have our own scout troop, I see no reason why we can’t arrange a winter ice fishing trip; maybe even a survival course, when you’re older.”

“REALLY? Cool! When do we leave?”

“Whoa there, young Jeremiah Johnson! First things first. How are you on your knots?”

“Oh. Um… I need lots more practice.”

“First things first. Get your knots down.”

~o~O~o~

Haley was sitting alone, still upset about Marco. Mom sure is encouraging ... but I don't think she knows how kids are, or how dating is, right now in the modern world.

"Hey there, lil' sis" two voices rang in unison.

"Alexis! Aleisha! I thought you guys had already left!"

"Nope," smiled Aleisha. "We kinda heard that our young step-sister was being mistreated by a boy, so we went into 'crisis recovery' mode."

"Boys are our specialty. We've both been through good and bad relationships. You want to talk about it? We got an extra large caramel frozen latte; your favorite, right? And three straws," chirped Alexis.

Haley's spirits started to rise a little. "That ... sounds exactly like what I need right now."

~o~O~o~

“Jocelyn, Alan,” announced Phoebe Sarkisian, “with your permission, I’m going to have Seamus and Katie over for a few days, during the week I’m taking care of Haley and Jake. That way they can start a grandparent — grandchild relationship together. It was Katie’s idea.”

The anniversary couple looked at each other with surprise. “Sure. Both the kids have been eager, yet nervous, about getting to know them,” said Jocelyn.

“I’ll be there to make sure it goes smoothly. There’s plenty of room in the old house for all of us.”

“We’ll run it by Jake and Haley, but I’m betting there will be no problem. Mom — thanks. You’re my favorite mother, did you know that?” Alan smiled the famous Sarkisian smile.

“You only say that because you like my stuffed grape leaves and souvlaki, you little rascal,” Phoebe beamed back.

~o~O~o~

Towards the end of the evening, when most of the guests had left, Alan and Jocelyn talked with their kids before leaving them with Seamus, Katie and Phoebe.

“Jake, you behave at Grandma’s, OK? We’ll be back in seven days.”

“Okaaay, Mom.”

“Jake, now, I mean it! Obey each of your grandparents, or there will be punishment when we get back!”

“Like, I’ll have ta chop firewood?” Jake would love that. Anything outdoors.

“No. I was thinking more along the lines of… book reports.”

“WHAT? Like, on top of my school stuff?”

“Yes. And if it’s not good, you’ll read another, and do another report, until it’s satisfactory.”

“No way! I promise I’ll be good!”

“We’ll see. I love you, my little man.”

Five feet away:

“Haley, you honor your grandparents like you honor us, got it?”

“Yea, Dad. No problem.”

“No talking back, and pay attention to them; don’t be rude and read your texts when they’re talking to you.”

“I don’t do that anyway.”

“Honey… yes you do.”

“Dad, that’s just the way girls my age are.”

“I know. That’s why I’ve been considering dropping texting from your phone plan.”

“WHA… no. You wouldn’t!”

“I will. Unless your grandparents say that you obeyed them and always — ALWAYS — listened to them when they talked to you.”

“Dad… maybe we better put up my phone while you’re gone. I don’t think I’m strong enough.”

“Not a bad idea, kiddo. Remember I love you so much, okay?”

~o~O~o~

Alan and Jocelyn finally got back up to their suite at the Marriott.

“Oh GOD, Alan! What a dream of a day!”

“It was pretty great, wasn’t it? Your dad did so well in his speech.”

“You mean Daddy.” She sighed. “He let me call him Daddy.” She took off her dress.

“Wow. Big step for him. Big dream come true for you, huh?” He untied his shoes.

“Alan, of all the big sales awards you’ve won, of all the accounts you’ve landed, winning my father over is the most impressive — and most meaningful to me — job you’ve ever done,” as she removed her makeup.

“You are the key to my success. Wherever I go, whatever I do, I hear your voice encouraging me, reminding me of what I’ve done, of who I can be, and that you love me no matter what. Do you know that your words are still like concentrated life to me?”

“Well for my part, I still find myself amazed at the man who loved me when all others rejected me… and who risked his life for mine,” she yelled from the bathroom.

“Honey, face it. We were made for each other.” He took off his cummerbund and tie, and started to unbutton his shirt.

She walked back in to the bedroom in the white bathrobe supplied by the hotel. “If we’re going to make it on the flight to Cancun in the morning, we better get to sleep.”

“Aw,” he replied. “I know we’re both tired, but I was still kinda hoping…”

“See, that’s the problem, Alan. Today was so exciting for me I won’t be able to get to sleep. Not without something to… relax me…” she slid the bathrobe off, showing all of her glorious post-op womanhood, wearing nothing but a little perfume. “Come to bed with me, my Eagle Scout hero. Let’s start a fire.”

~END~

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of these characters to any actual person living or dead is coincidental.

Thanks to Sephrena Lynn Miller for a quick first read!

Thanks to the "BCTS Closeteers" - especially Jana - for help with the pic!

If you've gotten this far, please leave a comment! (Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!)

Thanks for reading! **Sigh**