The Paths of Destiny
Shrewsbury

September 18, 2001 continued:

The Parish Church of St. Michael and St. John was named for two lesser saints of the Church of England canon. This didn’t make the church any less important, however.

Built in Saxon times just outside Shrewsbury, the small church was attached to a large residence and a modern Parish Hall. So large had the parish become as to populace that there were four morning and two evening services every Sunday.

This is in no small part due to the charismatic Parish Priest, Father Marc Reese.

The man who came to the door to greet us when we arrived was a dead ringer for the AVM, except in what I would think of as a Roman collar. He was six feet tall. Sporting iron-grey hair, he had an engaging manner, which I suspect also gave him the ability to make friends instantly with people from all walks of life, winning confidences from them as easily as breathing.

Corey hugged him warmly and then turned to me.

“Robert, I’d like you to meet Uncle Marc. Uncle Marc, this is Robert Bixby Parker, who is very dear to me.”

“Then you are welcome in our home at any time,” he said immediately.

“Thank you, sir,” I answered.

“Please, come in,” he said, stepping aside. “Melanie, Corey’s here.”

“Corey! Corey!!” came a loud chorus of voices as we were suddenly surrounded by what seemed to be about ten children, all vying for Corey’s attention. Laughing, she bent down and hugged each one, then introduced them to me.

“Michael, Jennifer, Paul, David and Susan,” she said pointing to each child. “This is my very good friend, Robert.”

Each child — they ranged in age from 11 down to four — solemnly shook my hand and said, “How do you do, sir.”

“Robert, if you don’t mind, I’m going to leave you down here with the brats while I run upstairs and get some things together,” Corey said as she headed for the stairs.

“I’m glad to meet all of you,” I said turning back to the children after Corey rushed up the stairs. “And you all may call me Robert.”

I turned to Corey’s uncle.

“I’m glad to meet you, sir. Corey said she wanted me to meet you and her aunt. She felt we’d be able to get along well.”

“Mr. Robert?” It was David, the youngest boy, tugging on my arm, and staring, not at me, but beside me.

“Who’s the pretty lady?”

I heard Jasmine giggle. “She’s very good with children, Robert. She’ll be good with yours.”

Beside me, the small child, he must have been about seven or eight, waved shyly.

“The pretty lady, my young friend,” I said as I sat on my heels giving the boy an easy smile, “is a very good friend of mine. Her name is Jasmine. Not many can see her. However, most children your age are able to see all kinds of things because you are still innocent and your young minds are open to such experiences. Unlike most adults, sadly. We adults tend to be tainted by what we encounter as we grow. Perhaps, when you get older, you’ll be able to see some of the wonders I have.”

What jasmine said suddenly dawned on me.

“Our children, Jasmine?” I asked turning back to my ancestress. “You wouldn’t mind telling me how many would you?”

“David’s telling lies, again,” one of the girls said in a disgusted tone.

“AM not!”

Before I could say anything, Corey’s uncle cleared his throat.

That’s when I suddenly realized what his clothing meant.

This man — Corey’s uncle and David’s father — was a Priest.

I stood, slowly. “Ah… sir….”

He smiled.

“David’s our Sensitive,” he said. “The Family produces at least one in each generation. No, Jennifer — he’s not telling lies. I can see her as well. Not well; more a blur in the landscape than anything else...”

He bowed to Jasmine, who returned the bow.

“But I know exactly where she is.”

I was glad to see that Corey’s uncle understood these things.

“How long have you been aware of yours and David’s Gift?” I asked Father Marc with fascination. “How many generations back does the Gift go? Did you know Corey has a gift as well?”

“How far back?” murmured in thought. “We don’t know. I haven’t had much time for genealogy research — and many times, these things aren’t mentioned. I would estimate at least ten generations.”

He tapped a finger on his lips.

“Me,” he continued musing, “I’ve known since I was around Susan’s age — four or five. It develops early, you know. It’s one of the reasons why I felt called to the priesthood — I wanted to help all the dead souls I could see around me.”

He came to himself and looked at me.

“So,” Father Marc said, eyebrows raised, “Corey does have a gift. Interesting. Does she know? Do you know what it is? I’ve always wondered. Corey, her father, was always so dead set against the Gifts. He always said if any child of his showed such spinelessness he’d beat it out of him.”

He shook his head.

“The AVM doesn’t know about Corey’s Gift,” I said as I gave a grimace at the information I could add to my list of things to not like about Corey’s father. “She only discovered it this morning. She has the gift of Psychometry. Are you familiar with it?”

“The... oh. My brother. Psychometry—are you sure? Well, well, well. That would explain a few things from her past…” he chuckled.

“No, Robert—I have no intention of telling my brother about his daughter’s Gift.”

He looked around.

“You’re not driving, are you? If not, would you care to join me in my study? I have a brandy I would appreciate your opinion of.”

“No, I don’t drive here in England,” I said as I followed Corey’s uncle to his study. “If I were back home in Florida, I’d be driving everywhere. To be honest, I’m afraid to ruin my clean driving record if I attempted to drive here.”

The hallway to Father Marc’s study was constructed of sturdy red oak walls and red semi-plush carpeting. Religious icons were interspersed among family portraits along the walls. The hallway had a lemony pine scent to it as if someone had recently finished polishing the oak.

“Care to let me in on what you meant about Corey’s past?” I asked with genuine interest.

“Little things,” Father Marc said as we entered his study, “a birthday party, one time. Getting a gift, throwing it away because she didn’t like being given someone’s cast-offs. She must have — realized — she wasn’t the first recipient. My brother — it gets difficult to discuss them. They both have the same name, and neither would allow the use of the second name or any nickname. So they are both ‘Corey’ at home and ‘Reese’ at work.”

As he prepared our drinks, I sat down in one of the two leather chairs present and glanced around study. As with the hallway, the study walls were polished red oak. More family portraits hung on the walls; some were of just the children while others we of Father Marc and Melanie.

“Where was I?”

He handed me a small snifter of brandy, picked up his own.

“I think my brother has a Gift of his own,” he said as settled down in one of the leather chairs. “Most people who rise to that rank, whether in the military, business or politics, seem to, whether they admit it or not.”

He took a sip of his brandy and looked at it appreciatively before he continued.

“We married sisters, you know. Melanie and Paula. Paula was delicate as a child, but --” he smiled, “the AVM was sure he could ‘persuade’ her out of it. Well, he was wrong, one of the few times in his life. So, he threw himself into his work and spent most of his time overseas. When he got Corey on Paula — yes, it was as clinical as that — Paula disappointed him again by first producing a girl, then the doctors told him she couldn’t have any more.”

Father Marc grimaced momentarily.

“He ignored Corey for her first five years. Then there was a call from the school — she had been fighting. He said he’d deal with it. We happened to be visiting at the time. Corey was with Melanie when my brother came into the room. She told me about it later.”

His eyes glazed over in memory as he related what happened.

“‘You’ve been fighting.’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Did you win?’ ‘Of course.’ She defied him chin out. He knocked her down — a five-year-old child — with one blow. She stayed down. But she glared at him. The next day, she started martial arts training. And weapons training. ‘Girl by day, boy by night — but at least he knows I exist’, she once said.”

His eyes focused back on me.

“Other than that, she had the standard upbringing for one of our class. Dance lessons, music, singing — has she sung for you yet? Embroidery — I shall have to show you some of my vestments.”

I sat for a moment, snifter in hand, contemplating the side of Corey I had yet to discover for myself. The more I learned about her, the more I found that I liked and my feelings for her grew. She, from all the evidence provided, was the perfect woman for me. She was strong, intelligent, beautiful, and talented and she was to be my wife.

“I am pretty sure,” I said finally with a wry grin, “I can guess what your brother’s Gift is.”

He gave me a puzzled look when I didn’t go on.

“Suffice it to say,” I continued, “it’s not complimentary based on my own observations of him.”

I took a sip of my brandy.

“He’s arrogant, a bully, and ambitious. If he can’t have something in his own hands, he’ll replace a surrogate to be his voice. He tried that with your niece, you know. However, it backfired on him. She earned her present position on her own merits. Moreover, the day she took over her new position, he openly tried to take the credit for it. She had him thrown out with orders never to show up on the premises unless he was invited or on the orders of his superiors. If it weren’t for the seriousness of the matter, I’d have been like a kid clapping and laughing while watching a clown perform.”

“It’s hard to believe that was only five days ago,” I finished with a slight smile remembering that particular moment.

“My apologies, if I was treading on forbidden territory there,” I said holding up an apologetic hand. “All my adult life, I’ve been a detective in one form or another and the habit is ingrained in me. Jasmine says I remind her of her late husband, Sir Roger Bixby. This reminds me. I still need to get genealogical proof that I’m related to the current Earl of Flamstead and Maidstone, William Howell Bixby.”

Father Marc’s eyebrows raised slightly at my last statement, but didn’t say anything.

“But that is neither here nor there,” I said as I brought myself out of my personal musings. “I suppose, I should return the favor in kind and tell you a little about myself. Especially if I’m to be a part of Corey’s life, and yours.”

So, I launched into a synopsis of my life’s story. I began with some of my growing up years, including some of the memories I had of my great-grandmother telling me of her younger days and her giving me the tiger claw necklace. I mentioned my passionate interest in Medieval History, and the Ancient Greco-Roman and Egyptian Mythologies. I told of some of my days in the US Navy and Peacekeepers, my first supernatural encounter and my book writing. I even told him about how I first met Jasmine. This, of course, led to my moonlighting as a detective of the supernatural. My recall into the UNO service with the SPJ was mentioned, along with some of the adventures I’d had from practically day one. Included in the tale was my first encounter of Briony Mathers and my going undercover as a footman at her birthday dinner. Of course, I didn’t leave out how I met Corey and my surprise when I found out she was my boss and how I had saved her life.

By the time I finished, I hadn’t realized how easy it was to speak about all my hopes and fears. For some reason, I felt as if a very large burden had finally been lifted from my shoulders. It was almost as if I were in Confession. In retrospect, given the trade of the man I was speaking with, I suppose it was a Confessional.

We sat there in silence for a few moments before I broke the silence once more.

“Father Marc,” I began hesitantly as I leaned forward in the seat I had not realized I had taken unbidden. “What would you say if I told you that, despite our short relationship, Corey was destined to be my wife? Jasmine told me once that she knew whom I was to marry and let slip this morning Corey was the one when she introduced herself to your niece. I don’t think Corey caught Jasmine’s slip. Also, a few moments ago, she said Corey would be good for our children.”

I sat there, sweating bullets on the inside; externally, I maintained a façade of calm frankness. Here I was, sitting in the study of a man I just met. I had just told my life’s story to the man. And here I was practically asking the man’s permission for Corey’s hand in marriage as if I were a suitor come calling to court a nobleman’s daughter.

“Maidstone and Flamstead, hmm?” He stood up, picked up the brandy bottle, and offered.

I shook my head.

“If it’s true, it’ll impress my brother far more than anything else you’ve done, I’m afraid. No, I’m not doubting you — I have no reason to.”

He poured himself another.

“Thank you for your frankness — I appreciate it.”

“Not at all,” I said. “I feel it’s best to be honest and upfront whenever it is possible. Speaking of honesty,” I went on carefully. “I’m not quite sure how to approach this. However, something doesn’t seem right about it.”

I paused for a moment.

“Corey told me about a man she knew and had been involved with. Said his name was Jack Tarrant. After he died, Corey said she received several letters from his widow. Maria, I believe the name was. The letters blamed Corey for taking away her husband from her and her mentally retarded son, Jacky. Corey has carried that guilt all these years and she’s been paying for the care of the boy all this time.”

Father Marc leaned forward in his chair, interest apparent on his face.

“What gets me about this is, according to Corey, there was no record of any dependents named Jacky. Let alone a wife by the name of Maria. Unless I miss my guess, the British military would have set up some kind of benefit program for dependents of British service members as they do back home in America.”

I looked Corey’s uncle squarely in the face.

“What can you tell me about Jack and his family?”

“Jack was married?” He seemed genuinely shocked to learn this. “We met him, of course. Corey does not get on well with her own parents, so she comes to us. Anyone of any significance is also brought to us. For vetting, I suppose, although she has never exactly asked our opinion, nor have we ventured to give it. But a couple of times she has brought a young man home to us, and then we have never seen him again. And each time, he has left somewhat to be desired... But I digress.”

He settled back in his seat as I heard a clock chime the hour in the background.

“Corey and Jack were together for… about seven years, I would say. She met him at IOT in her third year—that would be around 1985—and he died in 1992. I gather she told you about that. Miles O’Halloran has been her aide for almost as long, although he has essentially rotated in and out of her life, according to his duties. When Corey was granted leave in 1992 Miles brought her here to recover, and she told us about Jack being killed. No details—I gather it was some kind of accident.”

“Service-related,” I said.

If Corey hadn’t given this gentleman any details, I wouldn’t either.

“I see. Of course, I didn’t ask them about marriage — it’s none of my business. My only concern is that whoever she is with treat her right. But Corey once volunteered that she wanted to marry and have children, and that she and Jack were just waiting until they could complete their current assignment and move on to something more secure.”

A troubled look crossed his features.

“So your revelation that Jack may have been married — and has a son — comes as a complete shock, I must say.”

Father Marc shook his head. He came over to where I sat and absently poured more brandy into my glass before topping up his own.

“Yes, the RAF has an excellent Survivors Benefits Program. Corey has generously made our children her beneficiaries in the case of her death, and she has not been secretive about the benefits they will receive.”

He gave me a very direct look.

“If Jack was the man I believe him to be — and in my profession, I have to be fairly good at sizing people up — then he would have told Corey about any wife or child he may have had. Corey’s profession forces her to size people up as well. This must have come as a great shock to her, shaking her confidence in herself and her abilities.”

“I’d have to concur with you on that, Father Marc,” I said. “She said she’d spent a fortune paying for the boy’s care as a way to assuage the guilt she seems to harbor. I’ll have to do some investigating of this Maria though. It seems too coincidental that she would appear out of the blue almost immediately after Jack’s death, claiming to be his widow. Something tells me this woman’s been taking advantage of your niece’s generosity for far too long. I, for one, intend to get to the bottom of it and make sure this ‘Maria’ pays in spades for her deception.”

“If there is anything I can do…” he began.

There was a soft knock on the study door, which immediately opened.

“The car’s packed, and I’m ready to leave,” Corey said.

I turned. She had changed clothes again, and was now wearing a black leather jump suit that—although it covered her from neck to wrists to, presumably, ankles, under the calf-high boots—nevertheless contrived to leave precisely nothing to the imagination.

I gulped.

“Robert, are you riding with me, or going in the car with Miles?” It was an honest question, no hint of challenge. One I was free to answer as I wished.

“As much as I am sure Miles would be pleasant company,” I said with a smile towards Corey. “I believe you’re the more pleasant choice.”

I turned back to Father Marc.

“Thank you,” I said earnestly offering my hand. “Umm... I’d be interested in your thoughts on my last question, however. And I’ll think on your advice, as well.”

“We’ll go into town first and get you a helmet,” she said. “I have only the one, and I doubt it would fit you.”

She led the way out of the house, waved to Miles O’Halloran, then took me to the side of the house where a large motorcycle stood. She expertly wrestled it off its stand and mounted it.

As I got on behind Corey, my mind drifted back to the only two times I had ever been on a motorcycle. Both times while I lived in Singapore. My first ride happened during a weeklong school trip to Malaysia for the summer. One of my classmates had managed to obtain a motorcycle and we would ride around at night running over frogs. The second time happened during my second summer in Singapore. One of our neighbors, and another school chum, had just received a motorcycle for his birthday. Mom really didn’t like the boy, but he was one of my friends and she reluctantly allowed me to take a ride on his brand new Harley. We didn’t hit any frogs, but we did manage to see a lot more of Singapore than we would’ve in a car.

Once I was settled in behind Corey, I wrapped my arms around her waist.

“Relax, Robert,” she said. “You’re not used to this, are you?”

“I’ve only been on a motorcycle twice before in my life,” I answered. “Both times when I was in High School.”

“Ah. I didn’t realize. Get off, please—we’ll start with some basic motorcycle etiquette.”

I got off. Corey joined me.

“This is a 1963 Triumph Bonneville—fully restored. It was a pile of rust when I found it. Only a slight exaggeration. It was very popular in its day for its performance, but was later taken over by Hondas and other Japanese models. It has a unit construction T120 engine, which means that the engine and gearbox are an integrated unit within the same casing. The main drawback to this is that it is almost impossible to change the gearbox to that of another manufacturer. The main asset is that maintenance is a lot simpler—fewer lines to leak, mounting is simpler, and casting can be lighter or stronger.”

She turned and smiled at me.

“I’m going to mount now and start her up. When I signal, mount behind me, sit up straight, and put your hands on your thighs. Don’t put your arms around me—not yet. Just get the feel of being on the bike as I move it around. All right?”

I nodded as I suddenly remembered she had made mention she knew how to work on motorcycles. Even though it was back when we first met in Uxbridge, the memory seemed as clear as if it had happened only yesterday. I smiled at the prospect of learning something new from this fabulous woman.

She got on. Rather, she mounted the bike—I had to remember the correct terminology—and started it. The roar was fantastic. She did something to the handlebars and the sound lessened. Then she nodded to me.

I mounted behind her, and, as she had said, just balanced myself, my hands on my thighs.

“We’re going to move now,” she said. “You can put your arms around my waist, but try not to grip too hard, all right? I’m going to take it slow—she’s perfectly capable of doing a ton or more, but I won’t go any faster than about 20 until we leave town. If at any time you are uncomfortable, tap my shoulder twice and we’ll stop. Ready to go?”

“Ready,” I said as I gently put my arms around her waist.

She pushed off, and the big bike moved forward. Her feet came up and settled on the rests. I resisted the temptation to grip tighter as she turned the bike slowly in a circle. At the time, I didn’t realize how difficult a maneuver this actually was, or how much control it demonstrated.

Then the bike stopped again. Corey took her helmet from her Uncle, put it on and fastened the chinstrap. The bike started moving again, then we were out on the road.

Our speed increased, and I felt my heart quickening with exhilaration. I tightened my grip, then immediately relaxed it again. I didn’t want to do anything to startle Corey while she was piloting this magnificent machine.

She laughed.

“Want to go faster, Robert?”

“Sure,” I said.

Her laugh at that moment made me willing to agree to just about anything she wanted.

“Well, we can’t—not until we get you a helmet.”

The bike shop wasn’t far from the parish church. Corey was obviously known there; the proprietor hurried over to wait on her. After a lot of esoteric-seeming conversation about ratios and compression—I think—she came to the point.

“Robert will be riding with me. A helmet, definitely. A back up for now, but I want you to measure him for a custom job. And a jacket. Later, we can fit him out with full leathers.”

“Hmm.” The owner turned and looked me over. “He has a good head—I’d say about a size medium. And a size medium for the jacket. This way.”

He took me over to a rack and started handing me jackets to try on. When I found one to my liking, he set it aside then started handing me helmets. He was more meticulous here—as he explained it, a good helmet can save a life—a bad one can help kill you.

Finally, he pronounced himself satisfied. Then, he sat me down and started measuring my head for the custom-built helmet Corey had ordered.

“We might as well get it all done now…” he said. He took me into a dressing room and measured me for the leathers as well.

Finally, we were done. Corey helped me into the jacket, assisted me with my goggles and helmet, and led me out to the bike.

As before, she mounted first, then, after the bike was started, I joined her.

And we were off.

The ride was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. My mind, once again, flashed back to a memory of Sir Roger’s.

My ancestor had just finished investigating reports of some four-armed creatures in the Himalayas. During their investigation, they came across, of all things, a cargo plane; it was in mint condition and definitely not of the Victorian Era. The plane just sat there and was in good working order. To make a long story short, one of his party, Elizabeth, I believe her name was—she was from an alternate time line herself—piloted the plane out of the Himalayas carrying Roger, Lady Violet, Prince Rajiv, and several others. Roger, with the expert guidance of Elizabeth, began learning how to fly that day. Later, he would become Britain’s first RAF pilot. Officially, of course, the Americans were credited for being the pioneers of modern Aviation History.

My thoughts and feelings were equal to that of Sir Roger’s first flight. Wonderment. Amazement. I felt almost as free as a bird as the wind came rushing by. And I laughed for the pure joy of it.

Our route was along the A458 to the A5064, called, obviously enough, the London Road.

Once we left the confines of town traffic, Corey wheeled the bike into what the English call a layby and what we Americans call a pull-off or rest area, and halted it.

“What do you think, so far?”

“Exhilarating,” I said breathlessly. “Reminds me of my great-great-grandfather and his first flight.”

I quickly explained what I meant when I saw the puzzled look on Corey’s face. I knew she wanted to get going again.

“I’ll tell you the full story when we get back home,” I finished with a smile.

“Well, that was about 40 miles an hour,” she said with an impish smile. “Our route back will be the same as we came out — along the motorways. Minimum speed is 60, top speed infinite. If you have any problems, tap twice on my leg. Ready?”

Infinite? My Gods, that was inconceivable.

“To infinity and beyond,” I said stoically as I settled myself in for the ride ahead.

She laughed again and set the bike in motion. Nine minutes later, we were on the Motorway.

She had been sitting fairly upright up until now. As the speed of the bike increased Corey leaned forward, over the handlebars, decreasing the wind resistance, I realized. I leaned with her, at first holding my weight off her.

Her head turned.

“Relax and enjoy it,” she shouted.

I tried to relax as we increased our speed. Eventually, I managed to relax as I lost myself in the feel of Corey against me as I looked at everything speeding by.

From time to time, she would shout something, “70! ... 80! ... 90! ... 100!”

I suddenly realized she was telling me our speed.

The euphoria I felt was suddenly dying down as she kept a successive report of our speed. It was hard for me to prevent myself from clutching her tighter. By the time she had reached 130, I had my eyes shut tight and hoped I wouldn’t need a change of briefs by the time we stopped.

I felt the bike begin to slow and then come to a stop. I cautiously sat up and opened my eyes. We had pulled into one of the Motorway rest areas, and Corey was turning around, looking quizzically at me.

“Problem?”

“Your big brave jester and husband to be,” I said, “is having a moment of crisis with his nerves currently. I’ll be fine. It’s just a little much. I can truly appreciate how my great-great-grandfather, Sir Roger Bixby, felt when he was first in an airplane.”

I looked up at Corey and saw a look of… I’m not sure what on her face.

“Problem?” I asked as I tried to think of what I might have said.

Suddenly, my eyes went wide as I remembered my exact words.

“Oops,” was all I could say in my defense.

“If… if that’s… a proposal…” Corey said.

Her voice was definitely shaking. With what, I wasn’t sure.

“Okay,’ I said as I winced inside and mentally admonished myself for my inadvertent slip.

However, before I could continue I heard Jasmine whisper in my ear.

“All is happening as it should. Be confident and follow your heart. Your futures—yes, both of yours—and mine depend on this very moment.”

“Corey,” I said as I took the plunge that would mean I would sink or swim. “I know that you have been through a lot in your life. I also know how you felt with Jack, the betrayal, and the guilt you’ve harbored ever since his death. During our ride to your Uncle Marc’s, you found out everything about me there is to know. All the important things at least. The things that count the most. Therefore, you know I have nothing to hide. No hidden wives or hidden children. I’m a clean slate for you. With that knowledge of me that you now possess, you know how much I love you. You know I would never betray you, nor hurt you. I will never lie to you. I will never hold anything back from you no matter what it is. From the day I first met you in Uxbridge, I fell in love with you as we worked on the Lanc. I cherished each postcard and each letter you sent me. I still do. Your return to my life, despite the circumstances of our reunion, was my light at the end of a very long dark tunnel I wasn’t sure I’d ever leave. Almost losing you, not once, but twice in such a short time made me realize just how important you are to me. On the second occurrence, I told you I was not going to lose you. That you and I were in this thing together. Side-by-side. I meant it then, and I mean it now.”

I paused and took a deep breath.

“So in answer to your question…”

I dismounted the bike and took off my helmet. Took Corey’s hand in mine. I got down on one knee, placed the helmet beside me and looked her straight in the eye. And took a deep breath

“Corey Lloyd Reese, the Second. Would you do me the honor of being my wife?”

I held my breath. I wasn’t sure how Corey would react to my proposal. I had poured my heart, soul and all the love I had for her in each word.

“Well, there is definitely one thing different about you and Roger,” I heard Jasmine say with a hint of what sounded almost like tears in her voice. “If she says no to that…”

Then, the world seemed to hold its breath as we waited for Corey’s answer.

She looked around as if gauging her surroundings.

“A motorway rest area,” she mused. “Not what I had... You are collecting an audience, Robert. People are staring.”

Stubbornly, I remained on one knee in front of her.

“If I say ‘yes’, will you get up?”

Before I could reply, I heard someone in the background yell, “Tell the poor bugger ‘Yes’ already, lady. Otherwise ’e’s gonna stay like that forever and wind up with a bruised knee. And from the looks of it, ’e ain’t gonna take no for an answer.”

I could hear cheers of agreement from others; they were supporting the first caller.

I couldn’t help a small smile as the world seemed to be cheering me on.

“I’ll stand up only if you mean it, my love,” I said earnestly.

Corey blushed a fiery red and nodded. She dismounted the bike, swung it up onto its stand, and held both hands out to me.

“Yes, Robert. Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you. When? I know this parish priest who would love to do the honors for us…”

I didn’t let her finish, I picked Corey up and swung her around as I kissed her with all the love I had.

And in the background, the world rejoiced.

She returned the kiss with interest, wholeheartedly, unreservedly, and I knew that—whatever else might happen—for this one moment she was wholly mine.

Then, arms still around me, she drew back.

“Robert—we have to talk.”

“Sure,” I said a bit puzzled.

“They have a restaurant here. Let’s go inside,” she said as she led the way into the buffet-style restaurant, where we picked up drinks and plates of food, then found a quiet corner. Robert, I love you, I really do. And I want to marry you. And… and have your children. But...”

She paused.

“Have you thought what this marriage will mean to your career?”

“Of course I have,” I said as I took a sip of my drink. “Despite what Jasmine has hinted at, I thought of what it would mean long before I found out you were my boss. We can have a private ceremony, with your Uncle presiding over it. Only a select few would attend and they would be sworn to secrecy. By day, you would be Senior Director Corey Lloyd Reese and I’d be Robert Bixby Parker, Administrative Assistant to the Senior Director, business as usual. Off duty, we would be Mr. and Mrs. Robert Bixby Parker. In the case of you becoming pregnant with our children, possibly two maybe three, you could go on an extended leave or we could spin some yarn that would have you out of the office during the pregnancy and, if Briony Mathers is willing, she could be your Acting Senior Director again during those times.”

“One word, Robert. Fraternization. How could I enforce the rules against fraternization when I would be — essentially — living a lie? There are reasons for fraternization rules, Robert. It is to protect people. Could I wear the pants at work, then give up the role at home? I don’t think so. You don’t know how strong-willed I am….”

Another pause.

“You’ve never seen me lose my temper. If we disagree at work, would we be able to leave it at work, not take it home?”

She shook her head, and a tear rolled down her cheek.

“Robert, darling, you have made me very, very happy by asking me. But…”

I reached out and gently placed my hand over her mouth.

“You once told me,” I began softly removing my hand, “twice actually, that you made your own rules. Need I say more on that particular subject about rules, fraternization or otherwise?”

She gave me a small smile in reply.

“As for the other. I’m not saying you can’t wear the pants at home. I’m not expecting you to give up who you are. And yes, we will have some rocky spots that may overflow between our work and private lives. We’ll handle those times on a case-by-case basis and get through them. It’s all part of life.”

She started to say something, but I forestalled her by placing a single finger on her lips.

“Yes, we’ll both lose our tempers on occasion. But just think of what the makeup sessions will be like afterwards. We are both stubborn and passionate people. It’s one of the many things about you that I love.”

I hesitated before continuing as I removed my finger from Corey’s mouth — but not before she gave it a quick kiss. But I had just moments ago promised her I’d hold nothing back.

“Remember when I made mention of Jasmine a few moments ago?”

I waited until Corey gave a questioning nod before I continued.

“Jasmine knows certain things about my… our future. She never tells me outright what’s in store for me. She likes to leave enigmatic clues. Sometimes she does slip up. This morning, for instance, when you first met her. And again when little David saw her standing next to me. Your Uncle Marc could see Jasmine, by the way, just not as clearly as David. Jasmine’s exact words in both cases were ‘I know a lot about you. More than you or Robert thinks. In fact, I know the both of you will become man and wi…’ and ‘She is very good with children, Robert. She will be good with yours’. And just now, out there just seconds before I proposed, Jasmine said ‘All is happening as it should. Be confident and follow your heart. Your futures... yes, both of yours... and mine depend on this very moment’. So regardless of your fears for our future. It was already pre-ordained that we will get married and we will have children out of that marriage. How many children, at least two. But they will be ours. Yours and mine, Corey. And I repeat. Despite what Jasmine says, I know what I’m letting myself in for. I had pretty much made up my mind during our letters that you were to be my wife. In fact, ‘Officially yours’ was a precursor to my proposal.”

I gave her a moment to let that sink in.

“Oh and about the pants thing,” I said with a grin to lighten the mood. “I’m not wearing a dress. I’m not into that kind of thing.”

“I respect Uncle Marc’s opinion, Robert,” she said slowly. “Are you willing to go back there, with me, now, to consult him — professionally? And abide by what he says, regardless of what Jasmine told you?”

I didn’t need to hesitate when I replied.

“Of course I am. I respect the man and everything about him as well. Just one thing,” I added as I got up ready to go wherever Corey wanted. “Don’t take that ‘to infinity and beyond’ comment about the speed literally.”

“I’ll just go and freshen up, then.” She smiled tentatively, then headed in the direction of the Ladies Room.

I went outside to smoke a cigarette and wait.

She seemed to be taking a long time, I thought, checking my watch yet again. In fact, she had been gone almost half an hour. But the bike was still here. I was standing next to it.

Worried for my new fiancée, I went back into the restaurant and inquired about Corey. Giving her description and name to one of the female employees who didn’t appear to be busy, I asked if she would go into the ladies’ room to check up on her for me.

Just as the employee reached the door it opened, and Corey came out. She looked drawn, but brightened when she saw me, and hurried over.

“Phone calls,” she said, taking my arm. “And… Jasmine. I called Uncle Marc and made an appointment for 10 pm. He’s busy until then. Then I called Miles and told him I had been delayed, and to unload the stuff at the apartment. And then Storm called to tell me he had arranged an apartment for me — in a different building. I pulled rank,” she said with a smile. So he’s arranging for a larger apartment in the same building — best I could do, I’m sorry. Apparently, I will need to entertain from time to time, and your place does not meet his standards. And then Jasmine showed up.”

She looked at me.

“We will still have that consultation with Uncle Marc — I want him to marry us — but we also need to talk about setting a date, as well.”

“I wondered what had happened to you,” I said with obvious relief. “With all that’s gone on today, I nearly forgot about work.”

I shook my head.

“I was thinking perhaps in March or April for the wedding and I already mentioned I wanted your uncle to perform the ceremony. A short engagement, I know. Believe it or not, Jasmine and Sir Roger had a very short engagement as well. They were engaged in August 1891 and were married March 15, 1892. Their first children, Robert Malcolm and Victoria Anne were born November 21, 1892, premature twins. Robert Malcolm went on to inherit the Earldom when Sir Roger passed away in 1921.”

She looked at me momentarily with wonder.

“Nick’s a good man and can be trusted. He already suspected there was something going on between us from the start. But, I’m inclined to believe he won’t spill the beans.”

I looked at my watch. It was already going on five.

“We’ve got a few hours to kill before we need to be at your uncle’s. What do you want to do?”

“There should be a park outside — let’s sit.”

She was quiet until we got outside. Then she looked around and headed in the direction of a park-like area. Here, pleasant iron benches surrounded a greensward with a small fountain in the center.

Corey relaxed on the bench, legs stretched out in front of her, face up to the setting sun, eyes closed.

I waited.

“I had finished the phone calls,” she said finally, eyes still closed. “I turned to leave, there was a shimmer in the air in front of me, and then Jasmine stood there. At least this time she gave me a little warning. ‘Robert loves you very much, my dear,’ she said. ’You have the power to make him very happy. You also have it in you to make him very unhappy. ’No — I am not threatening you. Yes, I can harm you if I choose to, but I do not choose to because Robert loves you. I will never — never! — do anything to harm Robert, or his children. ’Yes, I know you have misgivings. I understand that your respective positions will cause problems. However, you will overcome them all, and emerge triumphant. “‘With your support and love, Robert will...’,” Corey hesitated, apparently editing her words. “’Robert will be very important to your Organization. It is also important that the tiger claw necklace be passed on to your child — and that will not happen for many years.’”

She looked at me. “There was more — if you don’t mind, I’d rather — keep it to myself for now. But what would you say to a winter wedding? Say — October or November?”

I could see the sense in Corey wanting a later wedding. However, the “Curious George” voice in my head wanted to know why she wanted to wait.

“I’ll marry you whenever you want,” I said tenderly. “But I must ask this for my own peace of mind. What are your reasons for wishing to wait? Answer me truthfully and I’ll never bring the question up again. Then we can get married whenever you wish. Winter wedding or later. As long as we do get married.”

She blushed.

“I meant... October this year.”

It was my turn to be speechless. I just sat there with my eyes wide open and my mouth working wordlessly. I’m sure I looked like a fish.

“This year,” I said when I could finally speak. “Why so soon? Not that I’m going to object. In fact, I’m not objecting.”

I knew I was babbling. I couldn’t stop myself until a sudden thought came to me.

“We,” I said sobering up immediately, “conceived a child last night didn’t we. That’s what Jasmine told you.”

Neither statement was a question. However, there was a hint of one in each. If we were to become parents so soon, it made sense Corey wanted to get married as soon as possible. Moreover, I wanted to marry this intelligent, beautiful, strong-willed woman who only just said yes to my proposal. It didn’t matter if she were pregnant or not. I was willing to be married to her as soon as we met her Uncle Marc at our appointed time later on if that was her wish.

I waited for Corey to respond.

“Yes. After Jack — died, I stopped using birth control. Then, last night — happened.”

She turned to me.

“That’s what she said, Robert, that we had conceived our first child, a boy. I — I wasn’t going to say anything, until I knew for sure... I won’t trap you into anything…”

“You’re not trapping me at all,” I said interrupting her gently. “Pregnant or not, I’ll marry you tonight as soon as we make our appointment with your Uncle. If that is your wish. And if Jasmine said you are pregnant with our son, then I believe her.”

She relaxed, leaning against me. I put my arm around her and held her close, then turned her face up for a kiss.

“Do you want to be married in church, Robert?” she asked when the kiss was finished. “We’ve never talked about your religion.”

“I’m not a religious person,” I said slowly. “I’m more spiritual. Remember when we had dinner at Uxbridge, I told you my theory on religion. In a nutshell, no religion is wrong. Each religion, as I see it, is just humankind’s diverse and unique perspective of the whole Truth of the Supreme Being. That’s my take on religion. So I’ll marry you wherever you wish to be married.”

“Well, I really want Uncle Marc to officiate. So if he says he wants it in the church, I can’t really turn him down. He’s the only family I’ll have there, anyway — aside from Aunt Melanie and the kids, of course. I don’t want a big wedding, Robert. I’ve never wanted that. I’d be content if we just said our vows to each other and went on from there. In a way, I feel we already have — with the Oath. But since there are already children involved, I think we need to do the legal thing for them. Imagine if something happened to me, and you weren’t their acknowledged father — you’d have no rights in them.”

“Hmm,” I said with mock disappointment. “I seem to recall saying a couple of times that I was fine with your uncle presiding over our wedding. That would mean, to me at least, a church wedding. On the other hand, we could have a small ceremony at your uncle’s home. Maybe invite a select few from SPJ we know would be trustworthy to keep the marriage under wraps until we were ready to announce our marriage to the world.”

Corey appeared to be mulling it over, a thoughtful look on her face.

“My teammates for one,” I said immediately. “Drayton, Doc and Nighthawk, I mean. I’m not too sure of Logan Blackeagle, so I immediately discounted him. Nick Storm, Ricky Vallance, and Jim Conrad since I am sure they are trustworthy. Also, Briony Mathers since she is your Acting Senior Director in case of your incapacitation. I’d invite Ted Westbury as well, only because I’ve known him the longest from my Peacekeeper days and he’d never let me hear the end of it if I didn’t invite him. I suppose you would want Captain O’Halloran there?”

“Yes, of course. I’m wondering about Maria Tarrant. I’m not sure it would be a good idea, though,” Corey said thoughtfully. “Aunt Melanie and the kids, of course. There really isn’t anyone else.”

An impish grin. “I might invite Joe Ferguson — to let him know he’s finally off the hook!”

I gave a sigh. I hadn’t wanted to bring the subject up yet. I wanted to do some investigating into Maria Tarrant before speaking with Corey about it.

“About Maria Tarrant,” I said hesitantly. “I didn’t want to bring that subject up yet. However, I asked your uncle about Jack, Maria and little Jacky. Your uncle was surprised when I mentioned Jack was married. He didn’t out right say so, but I think he may agree with me that you have been taken for a ride by this Maria Tarrant. Your uncle is a good judge of character and he stated, quite honestly, that Jack was too honest a man to not mention being married. And that Jack was looking forward to marrying you. He also confirmed that the British military does have a program designed for dependents of military personnel. I want to look into it some more before I can state without a doubt that you’ve been emotionally blackmailed by this woman.”

She sat up, turned and glared at me.

“No. I absolutely forbid it.”

“Corey,” I said taking hold of her gently. “I know you feel guilt about the boy. I do as well and I want to help him. I’d already decided the moment you told me about him to extend my fund to helping the boy. But wouldn’t you at least like to know the truth? Wouldn’t you want to know that your uncle’s judgment was still intact about Jack? Would Jack want you to go on shelling out your money blindly? Or would he want you to give your money because it’s the right thing to do once you’ve known the truth?”

After a long silence, she nodded slowly.

“I... tried to investigate,” she said slowly. “But I got nowhere. So I paid. You’ll... be discreet? And report only to me?”

“I had no intentions of being anything but discreet and already decided I wasn’t going to report this to anyone but you. But we’ll have to deal with that after we return to London. Right now, let’s just continue our plans for the wedding before we have to leave for our appointment with your uncle.”

“We could go for a ride — I only took her up to 135,” she said.

“I’m not sure your big brave jester and fiancé could handle another crisis of nerves right now,” I said with a sheepish grin. “You think you could keep it between 85 and 90?”

“Spoilsport.” She leaned forward and kissed me, gently. “All right. Just for you.”

After an uneventful ride, we arrived back in Shrewsbury shortly after eight. Although early, we went straight to the Parish Church of Sts. Michael and John where I finally met Corey’s Aunt Melanie.

She was a lovely woman, tall and elegant, but with a down-to-earth attitude that I liked. On being introduced, she immediately swept me into a warm embrace, something I had not experienced before in England. Don’t get me wrong — the English are a warm, wonderful people, but it takes them a while to accept strangers, and hugs seem to be in short supply.

While Corey went to shower and change — yet again! — Aunt Melanie provided me with a hot shower and a comfortable robe while she laundered my clothes in preparation for our coming meeting with Father Marc.

Corey chose a dark green, wrap-around skirt that fell to just below the knee, a plain pale yellow blouse with a ruffled jabot and cuffs, and low heels. I stood in the hall and watched as she descended the stairs, marveling again that she had actually agreed to marry me.

As she came up to me and took my hand the study door opened, and Father Marc came out.

“Come in, please.”

He had changed as well. He now wore a surplice over his cassock, and a stole around his neck.

The room he led us to was not the comfortable room where he and I had enjoyed conversation and brandy. This was his working study, and it was very different. Not a cozy place to spend with friends, but an office as functional as the one Corey had back at Headquarters.

“Please sit down,” he said as he gestured to the couch. We sat and waited expectantly.

“Marriage is a sacrament,” Father Marc began. “It was ordained by God for the comfort of Man and Woman and for the procreation of the race. Thus, it is not lightly entered on. It is also defined as ‘The conjugal union of man and woman, contracted between two qualified persons, which obliges them to live together throughout life.’ Marriage is forever. The Service of Marriage states: ’Let those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder.”

He paused for a moment.

“Corey — is your love for this man enough to keep you by his side for the rest of your life? If you have any doubts, now is the time to voice them.”

“I — think so,” Corey said hesitantly. “Robert is — very important to me. So important that I replace it hard to imagine living my life without him. We — we have not known each other long, but I found an instant connection with him, as soon as we met. And already, when I needed — an outside voice to anchor me, I turned to him without hesitation. And he was there for me.” She flashed her brilliant smile. “I have recently been given a new and important position. But if Robert thought it better — better for us — I would give it up without hesitation; and, what’s more important, without regret.”

Father Marc nodded and turned to me.

“Robert, is your love for this woman enough to keep you by her side for the rest of your life? If you have any doubts, now is the time to voice them.”

I looked at Corey before I gave my answer. I had already poured my heart out to this woman earlier in the day. In addition, because of that, she had agreed to become my wife. I could feel the love and strength she had for me as I looked lovingly into her beautiful eyes.

“When we first met, Corey was pointing a gun at me.” I said with a loving smile. “Considering the situation, I could not blame her then, and I can’t blame her now. She was so beautiful. Standing there, ready to defend herself and if necessary give up her life with no fear. I was instantly attracted to her. As I got to know her, the more I found out about her, the more I found I liked. When she had to leave because of her duties, I discovered, over time, an emptiness had grown inside of me I had not realized was there. Then came the phone call. Later, the postcards. Then, came the letters. With each brief form of communication, I found that Corey’s presence was what I needed to fill that emptiness. Those brief messages she sent, was abeyance enough to halt the growing emptiness for a short time. Then the day came when Corey re-entered my life. At first, due to the all that had transpired, I didn’t recognize her. In front of me was a serious, strong, no-nonsense person who placed duty above other considerations. When I finally did recognize Corey, I realized I had to replace any means necessary to be by her side. I’ve nearly lost her twice since then. Once to an inadvertent poisoning, and once because of her mule-stubborn sense of duty. Yet, another quality that I love about her. With all that said,” I concluded as I finally turned to look at Father Marc. “With all that said, I know for a certainty that Corey is the woman I want to have by my side. I want her there, as my wife, friend and companion for as long as Time and the Powers that Be will allow it. And if necessary, I’ll defy even those forces to ensure Corey’s presence is there longer than they choose.”

There was a long pause. Corey reached up and wiped her eyes. Finally, Father Marc spoke.

“Eloquent. But have you — either of you — thought about the day-to-day ordinariness of life? Marriage is about a lot more than grand passion and thrilling adventures. Marriage is about waking up beside each other, worrying about how the bills are going to be paid, nursing each other through sickness — and children. Have you thought about children?”

“Yes, Father,” Corey said quietly. “We plan on having at least two, possibly more — and as soon as possible. I am 38 years old, old for starting a family. At my age, any pregnancy will be high-risk. But I feel that — having Robert’s children will be worth any risk.”

Father Marc turned to me.

“Robert?”

“Father,” I began. “I know the worries that will come with marriage. I was fortunate enough to have the kind of parents who let me know, when I was old enough to understand, that marriage is not all walks in a field of flowers on a warm spring day. I watched, observed, and learned as my parents weathered each trial and tribulation that befell them; they grew stronger for each experience. My parents also taught me the value of raising children to be responsible, honest and honorable. It is a duty, I feel, all parents should instill in their children. It’s because of them that I am who I am today. I hope, when it comes to our children,” I said as I turned once more to my wife-to-be, almost whispering, “I can be half as good a teacher to them, as mine were to me for our children.”

“I think,” Corey said slowly, “that we have been given some advantages not given to most people. I had... two sets of parents. One — less than ideal, one — all that a young woman could want. I think that with these two examples to draw from I, at least, will be a better parent than I would be otherwise. And with Robert to advise me and — and rein me in when necessary — as I hope I will be able to do with him... Well, this marriage, this, parenthood, will be truly an equal partnership.”

“I see,” Father Marc said.

“My children. I have to ask this. Is there anything that is in any way constraining or forcing you into this marriage? Either of you?”

“No,” Corey said simply, smiling at me. “No — I enter this freely and willingly.”

“None whatsoever, Father,” I said just as simply, as I lovingly returned Corey’s smile.

He smiled.

“Well, you both seem to have a clear idea of what marriage is — and just as clear an idea of what it isn’t! Marriage is not the answer to all your problems — a spouse is not a wish-gratification machine. In fact, marriage brings a completely new set of problems. And generally, the old ones don’t go away! But you don’t need me to sermonize to you. Especially not this late! Melanie says you are staying over, is that correct?”

“I hadn’t thought about it, Uncle Marc,” Corey said. “I have no problems driving at night, I’ve done it a million times — it’s up to you, Robert. If we do stay, though, we’ll both have to call in.”

“Well I don’t know about you,” I said easily. “But, I could use another day away from the office. It’s been a rather hectic few days. Besides, you’re in charge of the operation, and if anything does come up, you’re only a phone call away. Father Marc,” I said turning to the man. “If it isn’t too much of an imposition to you and your family, I’d like to take your wife’s recommendation of staying the night. If I remember correctly, Corey’s leave was cut short. So, I believe she deserves at least another night with you all.”

“Of course,” Marc Reese said. “That was your headquarters that was hit, wasn’t it? In all the excitement, I had forgotten. Was anyone hurt?”

The counseling session was obviously over. Father Marc gestured to us to accompany him to the study door.

“Molly! They’ve decided to stay over!”

“Just a few bumps and scrapes.” I answered as we followed Father Marc from the study. “We did have an overzealous young lieutenant pretend he was able to leap tall buildings and had to be put in a cast after he jumped down a flight of stairs. No loss of life at all. In fact, we had an addition. One of our new members had her baby in one of the shelters while we waited for the all clear.”

“Come on through,” Melanie Reese said, smiling.

We followed them into the main sitting room where she had laid out a meal of sandwiches and drinks. It was not unwelcome — I didn’t remember when we had eaten last.

Father Marc tucked in, too — apparently counseling sessions were as hard on him as they were on us!

“So, have you set the date yet?” Melanie asked.

“Corey wants an October wedding,” I said as I wiped my mouth before speaking. “This year. She’s as anxious to get married as I am.”

“Oh, dear,” Marc said. “Are you sure there’s no — compulsion to get married?”

“Don’t be silly, Uncle Marc,” Corey said easily. “Robert and I love each other. A lot. We don’t want to be apart any more than we have to.”

“So you won’t object to separate bedrooms?” Melanie said.

“Of course not.” Corey smiled.

“Good. You’ll be in your own room, Corey. Robert — I’ve made up the blue guest room for you.”

“That’ll be perfect, ma’am,” I said instantly as I took another bite of my sandwich.

Marc had finished eating. He glanced at his wife and then started humming.

Beside me, Corey sat up expectantly.

I didn’t know what to expect, so I waited.

“’And did those feet

“‘In ancient times’”

It was William Blake’s “Jerusalem”, sung in harmony by Father Marc and his wife.

Next was a hymn, I think, that I was not at all familiar with.

Then — the 23rd Psalm, set to the tune of Crimond.

“The Lord’s my Shepherd, I’ll not want

“He makes me down to lie

“In pastures green; he leadeth me

“The quiet waters by.”

And then, on the third verse, a soaring soprano singing in descant.

Marc, a clear but untrained tenor. Melanie, an alto.

And that golden soprano coming from the throat of the woman sitting next to me — Corey.

I sat there with rapt awe as I listened to the three of them sing. For a timeless period, I sat and lovingly watched my beautiful fiancée, as she sang beautifully, with all the grace and poise of one who had been singing all her life. I could see the joy in her eyes as each word flowed smoothly from her lips.

As she sang her heart out, she looked at me. Lovingly, she placed a hand on my cheek as she continued to sing. I felt as if she were singing solely for me. The love in her eyes told me I was not wrong with my assumption.

Then, unselfconsciously, as the hymn ended, she leaned forward and kissed me.

Marc cleared his throat.

“Yes,” he said quietly. He stood. “Melanie and I will be going up, now. Corey will show you to your room — when she is ready.”

I didn’t sleep in the blue guest room.