(un)Usual Disclaimer: Okay, once again I am wrecking merry havoc with Renaissance Pictures' creations, Xena & Gabrielle. Yup, I taking the uberstory idea for yet another spin, this time pulling in not only Xena & Gabrielle, but also Mel & Janice (also from the fertile imaginations of Renaissance Pictures), Laura & Ruby (from That Texas Summer and The Revival), Helen & Brigid (from Helen of the Plains) and even Janice & Mel (from Mining the Future Past). As you are beginning to suspect, it might be a good idea to at least skim the aforementioned stories in order to understand what will happen in this tale (or is that ubertale? ubertail?)

Other housekeeping details: Yes, once again I am claiming copyright for my original characters, their stories, their backgrounds, etc. I'm just borrowing Renaissance Pictures' characters, I promise to return them. Subtext? Heck, yeah, what is a good fan fiction story without it? Of course, I am one of those maintext types, myself, therefore there will be some hot & heavy scenes, but only as appropriate to the character development.

Thus said,

Copyright © 1999 by J.S. Stephens. All Rights Reserved.

Thank you for your patience with this long-winded introduction.

The present

"Yes ma'am, might I speak with Brigid Anderson for a few moments? This is Dr. Melinda Pappas, I'm a friend of hers," Mel said, waiting impatiently. She heard, "one moment, Dr. Pappas," then various clicks and snatches of what passed for music until she heard Brigid answer "hello?" rather distractedly. "Brigid," Mel began, "I know you are the detail oriented one in your family, so I thought it best to speak with you first. You see, Janice has started sliding downhill rather quickly and isn't expected to live much longer. Can you make the arrangements for you and Helen to fly out here? I'm afraid you'll have to rent a car as well, I simply don't have the time to pick you up and I'll most likely be at the hospital when y'all arrive. Just use your key and go to your usual bedroom, I'll pop home in a bit to leave you instructions on the dresser."

"Shit!" Brigid exclaimed, the apologized quickly. "Sorry, Aunt Mel, I really didn't mean to cuss at you, but we had no idea that Aunt Janice was even sick. What happened?"

"Well, her resistance seems to have been weakened by that bout of lung cancer last summer, she has pneumonia again. The doctors don't think she'll last for more than a couple of days at the most."

"Oh, Lord, I'm so sorry, Auntie. I'll make the arrangements, then go drag Helen away from campus. I think I can get us in tonight. Thanks for calling."

"Sorry it had to be such bad news, sweetie, but Janice wouldn't let me call last week, said she would lick this so no need to bother y'all. Well, I'd better go back to her room. We love you girls."

"We love you both, too," Brigid replied. She hit the switch, then stared into space for a few seconds before calling her assistant. Janice Covington, dying? It couldn't really be happening, could it? But it could, both women had to be in their seventies or eighties now, but they seemed so healthy at Christmas...she shook her head, then punched the speed dial for her assistant, Barbara Woodbain. "Barb, I hate to ask this, but could you make arrangements for Helen and me to fly to South Carolina? Yes, tonight. Yes, we need a rental car. I don't know how long we'll be gone, her Aunt Janice is dying. Don't worry, I'll tell Patrick myself, he'll probably want me to make it into a story or something. Yes, we'll be careful. Thanks, you are a sweetheart." Brigid hung up, drumming her fingers on her desk at NewsTime magazine, where she had been employed since graduation. She took a deep breath, then called her editor, Patrick James, to explain that she needed to leave immediately. He merely said, "be careful and give my love to Helen," then hung up. She logged off her computer, grabbed her briefcase and jacket, then realized that she didn't have the plane tickets yet.

Before Brigid could finish the thought, Barbara came into her office, saying, "Your flight is at 8:45 tonight and the tickets will be waiting. I've reserved the car under your name, a rental agent will meet you on the other end. You have just enough time to go home and pack before you pick up Helen. I'll change your voice mail message and forward your calls to my desk. Anything else?"

"No, that seems to cover it, thanks Barbara, I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Forget your brain, probably. I'll see you when you get back." Barbara patted Brigid kindly on the arm, then gave her a little push. "I'll hold down the fort for you, don't worry about a thing."

Several hours later, Brigid and her partner, Helen Pappas, were on the plane to South Carolina, where Helen's aunt Melinda Pappas and her partner, Janice Covington, lived. Brigid boldly held Helen's hand during the trip, not caring if anyone else noticed, but in truth, the flight was empty enough that no one saw them. Helen, her tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed partner of twelve years, sat staring miserably through the tiny airplane window, not seeming to even notice Brigid's hand. Brigid noticed for the first time that Helen's dark hair was getting a lot of gray, enough to notice now, unlike her aunt Mel, who she resembled. Helen was also built more like a swimmer, broad shoulders and slim hips, whereas Melinda had more classic curves to her figure. Brigid's musing was ended by the captain announcing that they would touch down in a short time and that their baggage could be claimed just outside the gate. She felt Helen take a deep breath, then turn to her and say, "Are you ready for this?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, hon."

"Brigid, I hate to admit it, but I'm apprehensive. Suppose Aunt Janice dies before we get there? We still have to collect our luggage, our rental car, drive to their house, then on to the hospital. Suppose she's in ICU and they won't let us see her? I mean, Mel's my aunt by blood, but Janice isn't, you know."

"Helen, it will work out, I promise," Brigid said, "and I'm sure that their doctor won't mind, they've been going to him for years."

Helen glanced around, then lowered her head until her forehead touched her partner's. "Sorry, I'm just pretty tense, but I'm so glad you could come with me."

"Hey, I love you, 'wither thou goest' and all that."

"I think the plane just landed."

"You going to be okay?"

Pain-filled blue eyes met concerned green ones. "I have to be okay, she helped raise me." Helen squeezed Brigid's hand, then dropped it in order to unbuckle her seat belt. "Do we have a rental car?"

"Yes, Barbara made all the arrangements for us."

"Nice lady. Wish I could be that open at my job."

"Yeah, but it's just Barbara and Patrick that know, although Patrick wants me to write a story on this. I mean, write one on Janice and the Xena scrolls, something, what did he say? 'dignified, with a hint of mystery.' Think I can do that?"

"My love, you are genius with words. The seat belt sign just went off, let's get out of here."

An hour later, they arrived at the hospital after having driven to the house, dropped off their luggage and retrieved the directions. Helen couldn't help but think of the last few times she went to a hospital, twice in the same year as her grandparents died, and once with Brigid when Brigid's grandfather died. She gritted her teeth unconsciously until Brigid wrapped her arm around her in the elevator. With an effort, she unclenched her jaw and tried a crooked smile at her beloved partner just as the elevator doors opened. Brigid consulted the note from Mel, then pointed down the hall, pushing Helen to get her going. They walked through the door to the room ("thank God it's not ICU," thought Helen) to find Mel sitting primly on the edge of the bed, holding Janice's hand. Mel looked up, then stood up to greet them. "Girls, I'm so very glad to see you," she said as she hugged and kissed each one in turn. "I'm afraid Janice is worse tonight than she was this afternoon. Janice, honey, Helen and Brigid are here to see you."

Janice weakly opened her eyes, then croaked, "Sorry I'm such a mess. Doc Simon says very little time left. Please, sit." They did as bidden, then Janice panted for a moment, trying to draw strength. She took Mel's hand, then said quietly, "Please take our chakrams. You are our heirs." Brigid looked puzzled while Helen looked shocked as Janice continued, "Brigid, please write. Talk to Mel, write our life. Helen, a new scroll has appeared, you and Mel read it." She coughed hard, then laid back, drained. Mel started to say something, but Janice held up a shaky hand, silencing her. "Melinda, I love you, but I'm gonna have to leave you. The dead can hear, you know. Love you girls." She dropped back, slipping back into a troubled slumber.

Mel motioned for the other women to follow her out into the hallway. As soon as she closed the door, she said softly, "She will probably sleep for several more hours now, why don't y'all go to the cafeteria for a bite to eat?"

"Aunt Mel, have you eaten anything to day?" Helen asked.

"Well, I had some toast and coffee for breakfast," she allowed.

"Then join us, we insist," Brigid replied. "We have to take care of you if you won't take care of yourself."

"But what about Janice?"

"We'll come back soon, I promise," Brigid said, "I think she'll last for a bit longer."

Mel bit her lip indecisively for a moment, then said, "All right, let me tell her that I'll be gone for a few minutes. Y'all stay right here, now." Mel went back into the room for a few minutes, then came back out. "Janice says she wishes she could eat with us, she loves to eat, you know," Mel told them. "For hospital food, it's pretty good, just not as good as what Pandora used to cook for us. Helen, you remember Dora, our housekeeper, don't you? She helped bring me up, rest her soul, and was the first to know about me and Janice, the first to call Janice my wolf." Mel smiled at the memory as the elevator doors shut.

The past: 1924

Janice Covington scowled fiercely as she looked around her room at her great-grandmothers' farm house, very upset not to be with her father and mother this season. Life was changing rapidly for the Covingtons, arguments between her father, Harry, and her mother, Cora, broke out at all times of the day and night. When Harry said that he would take his daughter on his latest dig, Cora blew up and had shouted that no, he wouldn't, that a stay in Texas would be good for the girl instead. Harry wondered why she didn't want to send Janice to New York, to Cora's parents, but Cora said that her parents didn't have any place for a rambunctious little girl at their apartment. Besides, if anyone could handle their daughter, Laura Wilkins could. Thus, Janice wound up in Texas, facing the window, looking up at the big Texas sky. She couldn't stand it a moment longer, she had to go outside, look at the stars for herself, pretend that she could be helping her daddy digging for artifacts, so she carefully pulled on her jeans and shirt, then snuck out to the front porch, breathing deeply of the roses that Grandma Ruby planted so many years ago, breathing the faint cigar smoke...

"Hey squirt," Laura's voice sounded lazily from the shadows, "what brings you out this time of the night?"

"Grandpa Laura," Janice asked, "how do you sneak out so quietly?"

The woman motioned for the child to join her in the porch swing. After Janice hopped up in the swing, Laura looked at her for a long moment, then answered simply, "Practice, Janice, practice. When George, Peter and I moved here after the war, we still had to face Indians, so I learned to be very quiet." She paused, her cigar glowing as she drew on it, then blew out a perfect smoke ring. "Now, answer my question."

"Why?"

"Why answer it? I am your elder by many years, plus I'll tell Ruby not to make you anymore nutbread."

Janice considered the threat, then decided that Laura really would tell Ruby not to make any of the delicious bread. She looked into Laura's laughing blue eyes, then answered simply, "I can't sleep, Grandpa, I'm worried about my parents."

"Ah." The word floated on the air, buoyed by a stream of smoke. Laura took in a deep breath, then said carefully, "Janice, you are old enough to know the truth, although your grandparents would scalp me for telling you. Your parents are splitting up, possibly divorcing, so everyone thought it would be best if you weren't in the thick of things right now. Harry's parents are dead, Leslie and Elisabeth would love to have you but their apartment is too small, so Ruby and I drew the short straw and here you are."

"Why can't they get along?"

Laura looked carefully into the green eyes, (which were so similar to her partner's eyes!) as she tried to frame a reply. If this were Leslie when he was a boy, she would have pulled him into her lap and cuddled him, but Janice rarely let anyone hold her. Damn, why didn't she send Ruby out to deal with this hurting child? Ruby was so good with words, just like their daughter-in-law Elisabeth, but no, she had woken up when she heard the door opening...she grinned, then wiped the grin off her face. "Janice, Cora needs more from a man than your father can provide. From the time she introduced him to the family, I was afraid this would happen; Cora needs a more stable environment, less adventure. She thought that Harry Covington would be a professor like her father, but Harry couldn't stay cooped up in the classroom. Thus, another summer in the heat of Greece did not settle with her, so she decided to take off."

"Don't they love me?"

"Child, they love you, we all love you, but sometimes two people can love each other but not be able to live together. Or, they thought they loved each other, but really only liked each other, or for some reason couldn't ...well, hell, Janice, I can't really explain it."

"Will Mom ever come home?"

"I don't know."

Janice sighed, fighting tears, she didn't dare cry in front of this intimidating woman. She could cry in front of her Grandma, but not Grandpa, even though there was a lump in her throat that refused to dissolve. She ducked her head, balling her fists in her determination, hearing her grandpa leaning over to put out her cigar. No, the tears couldn't be coming, they just couldn't! She was shocked to feel Laura pulling her into her arms, allowing her to burst into frustrated tears, wrapping her small arms around Laura's body, crying as if she would never stop. She could feel Laura soothingly stroking her back, smell the tobacco, feel her shirt under her face, feel Laura's head resting on top of hers. Finally, the tears stopped and she sniffled, feeling a hand thrusting a handkerchief in her hands. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose, then just rested in Laura's arms, feeling safe for the first time in ages. Her eyelids were starting to feel droopy and her head light, just like she was about to fall asleep. She heard the soothing rumble of Laura's soft laughter, then felt her grandpa pick her up and carry her into the house, past her room, to the room she shared with her grandma. As she fell asleep, she heard Laura saying, "Ruby, we'd better let the little one sleep with us tonight, she's mighty upset..." The last thing she remembered was being placed between the two women, safe and warm at last...

The present

Janice's breath was getting more shallow with each passing hour. Mel sat on the bed next to her, not really talking much, just holding her hand, knowing that the end was near. Helen and Brigid had folded out the ubiquitous hospital bed/chair and had fallen asleep several hours ago. Mel pondered the past as she watched the two women slumbering, thinking of her life with Janice and how she would never in a million years think of changing one thing. She touched her chakram pendent, thinking about Janice's earlier request that the girls take the chakrams. Janice was rarely sentimental about anything, she mused, but she had always managed to keep her chakram pendent close to her heart all these years, even though she steadfastly refused to wear any other piece of jewelry "without a damned good reason", as Janice so eloquently put it. Somehow, though, it seemed fitting to pass them on to the girls, their love seemed as strong as as destined as hers and Janice's had, maybe they would also be together for fifty plus years.

"Mel?"

"Yes, Janice?"

Janice looked up at her life long partner, then over at the sleeping women. "Tell them the whole story after I'm gone. Then give them the chakrams." She took a deep breath, then pointed to the door. "Look."

Mel looked and saw the ghostly image of two women, warrior and bard, standing side by side. She turned back to Janice, leaning over to kiss her one last time, then turned to address the other couple. "Are y'all here for her?" The warrior and bard nodded. "Let me wake up the girls, then, so they may say good-bye." She stood up and walked over to the chair, gently shaking Helen's shoulder. "Hon, you and Brigid better wake up, Janice is about to leave us," she said.

Helen and Brigid untangled themselves and went over to the bed, leaning over to kiss the older woman. "Hey," Janice croaked, "don't cry for me, I'm pretty used up. Just carry on my work, won't you? Mel's gonna give you the chakrams and explain, I love you two very much. Brigid, keep Helen out of trouble." She took a deep breath, then said, "Melinda, I'll always love you, keep thinking of me." Mel nodded and leaned over for one last kiss, then closed Janice's eyes for the last time.

"She's gone," Mel whispered. Helen and Brigid took the older woman in their arms, not realizing that Mel saw Janice's spirit walking out with the warrior and bard. "I'll see you later," she whispered to her departing lover. The grief would come later, she knew, but for now, her upbringing required that she take care of the business of death and take care of her beloved nieces.

The past: 1926

The rain lashed against the windows as if an angry, living thing. Ten year old Melinda Pappas stared out at the storm, feeling a similar storm inside of her, wanting to lash out as hard as the rain, wanting to scream and be angry, to hit something, anything. She felt lonely and deserted in this big old house, especially since her mother was now dead.

Virginia Pappas had just died hours ago in childbirth. Melinda could still hear the awful howls of pain, then the sudden silence ringing through the air as if it were an endless loop of terror renting the air. Just a few hours ago, her father had come from the room and had told her that her mother had just died and they didn't know if her little sister would live either. Dora, the housekeeper, had taken Melinda back to her room and let the girl cry in her arms, telling her to let the tears out now, but her daddy would need her to be strong later. She had held on to Dora with all of her young might, burying her face in her arms, trying to cope with a grief too strong for her young mind to grasp. Dora finally picked her up, taking her to the old rocking chair, then rocking her like a baby, just as she had when Melinda was first born. "Child, child, I know it's tough, but your daddy needs you," the woman said as she rocked her. "I'll be here to help you, just as your daddy helped me by giving me this job." Melinda finally stopped sobbing, content to just sit in Dora's lap, looking at the contrast between her pale hand on Dora's chocolate brown arm.

Now she stood, watching lighting tearing through the clouds, wishing she were dead too. It wasn't fair, she thought, it just wasn't fair! She had been so excited about getting a little brother or sister, but now her mother was dead. Melinda was so lost in thought that she didn't hear her daddy until he tapped her on the shoulder, saying, "Honey, your sister just died too." Melinda looked up at Thomas Pappas, seeing tears rolling down his face, crying for the first time she could remember. Her own grief seemed doubled as she stared at her beloved daddy crying, but she suddenly felt compelled to protect him from further grief. She squared her shoulders and said, "I'll take care of you, Daddy, really I will." Thomas Pappas just nodded and pulled his daughter close to him, glad that he had been left at least one member of his family.

The present

Mel had lost all track of time after Janice died. There were forms to fill out, arrangements to complete, people to notify, finding the prepaid funeral plans, just so much to do. She was surprised that Helen was so grief-struck that she nearly couldn't function, but Brigid seemed strong enough for both of them, taking matters neatly in hand, helping Mel with the paperwork, making calls to friends and relatives, arranging for the catering (what was a Southern funeral without a huge meal?), generally being helpful. She had put Helen to work in the yard, directing her to mow, edge and weed so that the place would look nice. Mel was grateful to the reporter for knowing just how to handle her niece. And, at some point, Brigid had led Mel to bed, telling her to get some sleep before she collapsed. Mel had no idea she was so exhausted until the young woman had insisted on tucking her in bed; Mel fell asleep before Brigid had shut the door.

The day of the funeral dawned bright and cool, perfect weather to celebrate a life. Mel woke up, feeling refreshed by her sleep, but fighting not to roll over to kiss her beloved partner. She knew Janice could still hear her thoughts, so she sent greetings to her partner of fifty-seven years, then stood up and stretched lazily and reaching for her glasses. She walked over to the window, looking at the now pristine lawn, not really thinking of anything yet, just letting her gaze wander over the property until it settled on the small family graveyard. She could just make out the headstones of her parents, baby sister, Dora and her husband Lee, and the new double headstone she had made for herself and Janice. Reality kicked in, punching her in the stomach with the knowledge that her fiery lover was soon to be laying in the ground without her. She leaned her head against the window, allowing the tears to fall freely, thinking, "I'm trying, Janice, but I miss you so much, your touch, your love, your mischief."

"Aunt Mel?"

Mel turned around, seeing her niece framed in the door. "Come in, Helen," she said, wiping her face with her hand. "What do you need?"

Helen walked into the room, unsure of herself, but needing to say something to her aunt. Damn, she was so good with history, with writing academic articles, yet when it came to talking to people, it was always Brigid who knew exactly what to say. Why couldn't she be more like Brigid? She unconsciously straightened her shoulders and spine as she crossed the room, hesitantly laying a hand on Mel's shoulder. "Um, I'm sorry I wasn't much help yesterday with the funeral plans and all," she said quietly, "I guess death kinda freaks me out."

"Child, you don't have to apologize, we all deal with death differently," Melinda answered softly. "Janice bawled for days when Dora died. And you should have heard her carry on when her dog, Argo, ran off at the ripe old age of sixteen. We never saw the dog again, I suspect that she went into the pasture to die, animals do that, you know."

"But-"

Mel cupped Helen's face in her hands. "Helen, Janice and I have always loved you as our own, more like you were our daughter than our niece, so it is natural that you are upset. Each person has a different way of dealing with grief, you just have a hard time with the paperwork of death. Don't worry, honey, you made the lawn look lovely with all your work yesterday, I appreciate it very much." She kissed Helen's cheek, then said, "Go on, I'll be down for breakfast in a few minutes."

"But-"

"No buts, Helen. Death is a part of life, just part of the circle of life, to quote the Disney movie. I know that Janice can hear my thoughts, so I take comfort in that. Now you and Brigid go on and eat breakfast, just make sure that Brigid leaves a little for me." Helen sighed and wrapped her arms around her aunt. She felt Mel stroke her short black hair, then pull back and laugh. She looked at Mel quizzically, who explained, "I sometimes think that Brigid is related to Janice, with that appetite of hers."

"I think you are right, Aunt Mel."

The past: 1933

Janice Covington caught herself staring at Cherie Fletcher for the umpteenth time that night. Janice still didn't know what had compelled her to ask Cherie to go to the movies with her, but Cherie had simply smiled and said yes. Janice couldn't remember the plot of the movie, all she could remember was the warmth of Cherie's arm against hers, Cherie's faint perfume tickling her nose, the dimple in her cheek as she smiled and their hands colliding over popcorn. Now they sat in Cherie's apartment (being a graduate student did have its privileges) sharing a few beers, knee to knee at the tiny kitchen table. Cherie was talking about one of her professors but Janice was having a very hard time concentrating on the words, it was easier to concentrate on Cherie's bobbed blonde hair and dancing brown eyes, her lovely sweater filling breasts, her long luscious legs. Janice swallowed her beer in long gulps, on fire with the need to do something, but not sure what. Oh, she had noticed girls before, but had assumed it was a passing stage before she moved on to men, but now confusion and excitement warred within her.

"Darling," Cherie drawled in her soft Georgia accent, "you haven't listened to a word I've said in the last ten minutes."

"Huh? Sorry, do you have any more beer?"

Cherie looked at Janice for a long time before replying, "No, darling, I do believe you've had enough, you act like you are drunk on one beer."

"Cherie, I've been drinking since I was a kid-"

"Yes, I've heard about your travels with your famous father, but you are a seventeen year old kid still-"

Janice bounced out of her chair angrily, fists cocked and ready. "I'm not a kid, damnit, I'm an adult! Hell, how many other 'kids' do you know who are carrying a twenty-one hours a semester? I'm already a junior-"

Cherie stood up, taking Janice's fists in her hands. "Touchy, aren't you? But so much fire, so much passion for one little woman," she said, leaning closer. "But, I can feel you trembling, can nearly see your heartbeat soaring, my dear. Don't you like me near you? Haven't you been staring at me all evening?" Janice stood, jaw dropping, blushing deeply. God, was it that obvious? Before she could think of anything to say, Cherie closed the distance between them, her brown eyes boring into Janice's green eyes, asking softly, "Aren't you curious about how it would feel to kiss me?" Against her will, Janice nodded once, mouth going completely dry. Cherie kissed each fist, then kissed Janice's lips, barely touching them, but enough to set off an explosion of fire licking through her entire body. Janice kissed back, not quite sure what to do except kiss the woman for all she was worth.

Suddenly Cherie broke off the kiss. Janice started to protest, but Cherie took Janice by the hand and led her to her bedroom and started kissing her again, this time more hungrily, as if she wanted to posses Janice's body. Janice put her arms around the woman, clinging to her like a life raft, never wanting this dizzying kiss to end. She whimpered when Cherie pulled back again, but Cherie smiled as she started slowly undressing, daring Janice to watch. Janice was awed by the other woman's voluptuous body, her perfect breasts, the slight swell of her belly, the round hips, the dark thatch between her legs. She was overcome with a fierce desire to shed her own clothes, but when she tried to take them off, Cherie shook her head no. Janice was frustrated until Cherie smiled again and reached over to unbutton Janice's blouse, taking her time to uncover Janice's compact, muscular body, not touching her until all of her clothes were removed, then taking the smaller woman into her arms and kissing her again, this time more demandingly.

Janice felt like her entire body was on fire. The feeling of skin against skin inflamed her senses to a fever pitch, making coherent thought impossible. She felt Cherie push her on the bed, then start to explore her way down Janice's body with her lips and hands, soon worshiping her breasts with lips and tongue, turning the fire up even higher and hotter. Janice surrendered to the sensations that Cherie was creating, never wanting this to end. After what seemed like hours of slow torture, she felt Cherie's hand slip between her legs, then a finger slowly slip between her nether lips to touch the slick flesh within, then slowly rubbing, rubbing, until the sensations inside started whirling out of control. Janice felt herself bucking like crazy, feeling a powerful clenching ripping through her abdomen, causing her to clamp her legs around Cherie, rubbing herself against Cherie's leg until another set of powerful contractions ripped through her, leaving her senseless and near unconscious.

"God, what was that?" Janice finally croaked several minutes later.

Cherie smiled as she stroked Janice's belly. "That, my dear, was an orgasm. Haven't you learned about sex yet?"

"Ah, I guess not that, but I've heard the men in their tents with women from town," Janice managed to reply.

Cherie chuckled as she ran a finger across Janice's lips. "Well, I guess you need to complete your education," she said as she lowered a nipple into Janice's mouth. "We really need to complete your education."

Janice kept busy over the next few months with classes and Cherie. She and Cherie spent most of their free time together, arguing about different historical theories, eating out, reading each other's papers and having terrific sex. Janice had no idea that sex could be so powerful or that two women could generate such heat and desire until she had met Cherie, which sometimes led her to wonder about her mother's grandmothers, if Laura Wilkins and Ruby Bills had been lovers. God knows they had been together a long time, about fifty something years, if she remembered correctly, but no one had ever said anything about them being lovers. She sometimes wished they were still alive, so she could ask them about their relationship, especially since she couldn't talk to anyone about Cherie.

Spring break was looming quickly and Janice had already promised her grandparents that she would visit them in New York. As she lay in bed with Cherie, tracing lazy patterns on Cherie's body, she asked, "What do you think of going to New York City with me to visit my grandparents? They've moved into a new apartment and have a guest bedroom now and there's lots of fun things to do. What do you say?"

Cherie stopped Janice's hand and said slowly, "I appreciate the offer, Janice, but I have to go back home for spring break, I promised my folks." She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, pushing herself up and reached for her robe before continuing, "I also promised Hank I'd see him."

"Hank? Who the hell is Hank?"

"My fiancée. We are engaged to be married right after I graduate, then I will follow him to Chicago where we both will be teaching history. I'm sorry, honey, I just never thought to mention him before now."

Janice stared at the other woman, shocked, then furious, charging out of bed and pinning Cherie against the wall. "You mean to tell me that you've been using me for all these months? That I never meant anything to you than a bed partner? I trusted you, I even fancied myself in love with you, but now you tell me that you have a goddamned fiancée?" She turned away from Cherie, then grabbed the small dog statue she'd bought Cherie for Christmas and hurled it against the wall, satisfied with the way it shattered into a million pieces. "I don't appreciate being used, couldn't you have told me before now?"

"Darling, I didn't think-"

"It's fucking obvious you didn't think," Janice shouted as she started grabbing her clothes, "it's very fucking obvious." She started dressing haphazardly, stuffing her stockings into her jacket pocket, picking up her shoes and stuffing them into her book bag. "Hey, you aren't the only fish in the sea," she growled, "I'll just find another woman to have sex with." Fury still raging through her veins, she hurled her book bag against the bedroom door, then turned to glare at the frightened woman. "Just be glad that wasn't your head," she snarled. Janice stomped across the floor, retrieved her bag, then stormed out of the apartment, not daring to look back for fear that she would burst into tears of rage and pain.

Several hours later, Janice stumbled through a park, pulling heavily on a bottle of whiskey that she'd stolen from the dorm mother. She had pulled on her favorite khaki pants and shirt, the ones she'd worn last summer while helping her father at his latest dig site, the ran off to the park to drink away her misery. Women! She really thought that Cherie loved her, cherished the lazy Sunday afternoons in bed, loved the feeling of Cherie's body arching under hers, trembling with impending orgasm...she shook her head to rid herself of the vision, then looked up to see her roommate staring curiously at her. "What the hell do you want?" Janice slurred.

Abigail sat down shyly, answering, "I heard that you were pretty mad, I just thought I'd see if you needed someone to talk to, Janice."

Janice stared at the girl, then tipped the bottle to drink the rest of the whiskey. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve, then answered, "No, I don't think you can help, no one can help."

"You act like you have a broken heart," Abigail said bravely, "I know you've been hanging around with Cherie Fletcher a lot lately, did the two of you have a fight or something?"

Janice laughed harshly, a scary sound, but the other woman bravely waited for an answer. Janice finally put the bottle down with exaggerated care, then replied, "Yeah, we had a big dust-up, Abigail, thanks for asking. I'm just drunk, pissed as hell and ready to get into a fight at the least provocation. But, I'm going to visit my grandparents soon, so life should be peachy after that."

Abigail tentatively touched Janice's arm, saying, "If you need anything, let me know, okay? I know we're not best friends or anything like that, but I appreciate your covering for me when my parents made that unexpected visit last weekend. They didn't need to know that I was with George at the ball game."

Janice waved it off, mumbling, "Hell, parents can be a pain. Dad I can stand, Mom ran out on us when I was small." She stared at the other girl for a minute, then hauled herself to her feet, steadying herself on the back of the bench. "Well, I'd better go now, get back to the room and sleep this off. I'll have a mammoth hangover in the morning, so don't disturb me, all right?"

"Okay." Abigail stood up, taking Janice's elbow and steadying her. They walked most of the way back before Janice asked how Abigail knew how to steady a drunk so well. "My mother drinks a lot," was all Abigail said, so Janice dropped the subject. Too damn much pain in the world, she thought, just too damn much pain.

The present

Brigid slipped from the bed after Helen fell into a fitful sleep, unable to fall asleep herself, so she decided to go downstairs to see if she could round up a midnight snack. She noticed that the study light was on and decided to investigate, finding Mel sitting at her desk, looking at what had to be an ancient scroll. Mel heard her and motioned for her to come in, drawling, "Brigid, have you ever seen one of the objects of Janice and mine's? This," she said, tapping the scroll with a cotton covered finger, "is what is known as a Xena scroll, written by Gabrielle, bard and one time Amazon queen. Companion of Xena, righter of wrongs, seeker of truth." She stroked the scroll lovingly, then motioned for Brigid to sit down in her visitor's chair. "This is the last scroll we found, it turned up at a dig just a few years back, but we never got around to translating it. The funny thing is that the handwriting is different like someone else was writing. I couldn't sleep anyway, so I thought I'd start translating it tonight."

"Oh. Who do you suppose could have been the other author?"

Mel looked at the younger woman and answered, "Based on the boldness of the strokes, I'd venture that Xena herself wrote it. Let's see, shall we?" She adjusted her glasses, frowning in concentration, then started reading from the scroll, translating on the fly.

I'm pretty bad with words, but I wanted you to know something, if you ever get this scroll. I've messed up pretty badly from time to time, misjudging that Najara creep, letting myself get arrested, allowing us to go on this strange journey against my better judgment. I sit across the fire from you and contemplate the vision of death, the vision of us both on crosses, yet you insist that it won't come true. Well, I don't trust any gods, my love, I can't even trust myself these days. I keep trying to send you away, but it seems that our destinies are intertwined, like some sort of fable or something. That last little adventure in India, the mendhi drawings, weird stuff, that woman stating that our souls would always be drawn together, that nearly freaked me out, my love.

Anyway, if anything ever happens to me, know that I've loved you since I first saw you fighting back against those slavers, I just wasn't aware of it yet. Then when Death was held hostage and you cried in my arms, cried for the boy who was freed from pain by Death. I'm no good with words, but you kept getting under my skin. I thought it was hero worship for the longest time, at least until after you married Perdicas and Callisto killed him in cold blood. You were so hurt, I was hurting because you were going to desert me for him, I think it is pretty safe to say that we were both confused.

But then we holed up in that cave for several weeks and we found our love for each other. Gabrielle, I'll always remember those days fondly, shining like gold in my memory. I want to believe that we'll always love each other, like I said, we've been told we're destined to stay together. Wouldn't it be strange if Krishna got it right and we do get reincarnated again and again? Will we have to fight to share our love each time, or can we fall in love like two ordinary people? Will we always be drawn together? What if this life is just a prologue to the rest of our lives?

"It just ends there, as if the author was interrupted or something," Mel concluded as she carefully laid the scroll on the desk. "Based on most of the scrolls we can find, it would seem like this one was written just a year or two after Xena and Gabrielle married, after they nearly broke up while trying to reconcile from some great rift in their lives."

Brigid scratched her nose thoughtfully, then asked, "Do you think it is possible? Are the spiritual descendents of Xena and Gabrielle drawn together over and over again?"

Mel smiled at the younger woman, answering with conviction, "I know it for a fact, my dear, you see, I am a descendent of Xena and Janice was a descendent of Gabrielle. I think we were fated to meet and fall in love, even though it was really frowned on in those days. I had been engaged and Janice had slept with many other women, but when we finally came together, it was like setting a spark to a powderkeg. I think my daddy suspected that I'd never marry a man, he always insisted that I try to find the best love, not just the best social or economic match for myself." She took off her glasses and polished them on a square of cloth, then resettled them on her nose. "Didn't you and Helen feel drawn to each other, as if you knew each other was the perfect fit?"

Brigid thought back, then answered, "Well, I did feel more comfortable around her than I did most other women and after we met, I wound up turning to her for help several times." She thought for a moment about the first time she slept with Helen, how Helen had rescued her from a party, taken her home, then wound up sleeping with her when Brigid had cried out in a nightmare. She smiled at the memory, how they had woken up kissing and were both scared out of their wits by the passion they'd felt...she reluctantly drug herself back to the present, noticing that Melinda was looking very tired, and much older than usual. "Hey, Aunt Mel, are you okay?" she asked.

Mel looked up, tears shining in her beautiful blue eyes. She didn't answer, just reached for the younger woman's hands, clenching them with surprising strength, obviously fighting the tears. "Auntie, you can let go," Brigid said softly. Mel took a deep breath, then stood up and led the younger woman to the old sofa and sat down, still holding Brigid's hands in her own. Brigid saw the tears starting to roll down Mel's face, moved deeply by the older woman's carefully controlled grief, freed a hand and pulled Mel closer, until Mel dropped her head on Brigid's shoulder and finally let go of her grief, keening in the manner of her Southern ancestors. Brigid cradled the older woman in her arms, giving her safe harbor to vent her anger and pain...

The past: 1934

Melinda Pappas was thrilled to be part of the Democratic campaign, even more excited that she was going to meet Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt themselves tonight at the fund raiser. Her daddy had managed to hang onto the money he'd inherited, selling all of his stock shortly before the crash in 1929, stating at the time that the market was too good and was bound to crash eventually. Melinda wasn't sure of all the financial details, but she knew that he would be able to send her through the rest of her bachelor's program in ancient history as well as make a healthy contribution to the Democratic cause. She waited for her daddy at her assigned seat, slightly worried that something would prevent him from coming since he was already late. Thomas Pappas was rarely late to anything, a virtue he had passed on to his daughter.

"Hi, Mel, sorry I was so late," Dr. Pappas said as he slid in the seat next to her, "but I got held up in a meeting at school. That crazy Harry Covington was begging for more money for another go at the Xena scrolls. Have cocktails been served yet?"

"Yes, Daddy, a man just went around with them, but I'm sure he'll be around again," Melinda replied distractedly. Before she could say anything else, a cheer went up through the room as the Roosevelts walked into the room, Franklin on the arm of one of his sons, Eleanor slightly behind them. Melinda found herself standing up and cheering with the rest of the room, knowing in her heart that this man was the future President of the United States of America. Besides, it was high time there was another Democrat in office, even if he was a Yankee Democrat!

After a short speech, Mr. Roosevelt motioned for everyone to be seated and for the waiters to start passing out the salads. Melinda picked up her water glass and started to take a sip when the table moved, causing her to jerk and spill water down the front of her suit. "Oh, dear," she muttered as she dabbed at it with her napkin, "at least it wasn't red wine."

"I am so sorry, I didn't mean to jolt the table," a woman's voice said. Melinda looked up, blinking in surprise at the woman who had appeared across the table from her. The woman had the most remarkable auburn hair and hazel eyes that Melinda had ever seen, a strikingly handsome woman. Melinda caught herself staring and blushed, quickly looking down to dab at her suit jacket again. "I'm sure it will dry soon, it was only water, wasn't it?" the woman asked.

"Yes ma'am, it was only water, I'm sure you're right," Melinda answered, her drawl stronger than usual, as it always was when she was stressed. She could feel the woman's eyes on her, probably laughing at her clumsiness, Melinda decided as she looked back up. The woman was indeed smiling, but it was a kind and understanding smile, not one to make fun of a person. "I'm sorry, I haven't introduced myself, I am Melinda Pappas and this is my father, Dr. Thomas Pappas."

"Oh, such luck, I was needing to interview Dr. Pappas, I'm Kelly Stanwyck from the Boston Morning Advance Sheet, I'm covering the dinner tonight. I was planning to visit your father tomorrow at the university." Kelly smiled again, showing brilliant, strong, white teeth.

"Hmm, did I hear my name?" Dr. Pappas asked absently as he turned from talking to his seatmate.

"Daddy, this is Kelly Stanwyck, a reporter from the Boston Morning Advance Sheet, she says she has an interview with you tomorrow."

"Ah, yes, Miss Stanwyck, I remember chatting with you over the telephone this morning, so glad to make your acquaintance. I see that you have already met my daughter, Melinda, who assists me with many of my translation projects. You might consider interviewing her as well, Miss Stanwyck."

"Oh, Daddy, I'm not that important," Melinda protested.

"Yes, you are, Mel, you just don't give yourself enough credit," her father answered fondly. "Say, why don't you come by the house tomorrow evening instead of coming by the university? It would be a much more pleasant atmosphere and I'm sure Dora wouldn't mind setting an extra plate. Tell me, Miss Stanwyck, why would a Boston newspaper send you to interview a Southern professor?"

"Because our chief editor is an archeology buff and your name is among the up and coming experts on Greek history, that's why. I just happened to be here to cover the Roosevelts on my way," Kelly explained. "I see our main course coming up, I hope to God it isn't chicken." The rest of the evening went pleasantly, with Kelly lightly bantering with the Pappases all evening, then finalizing plans for the next evening at their home.

The next evening, Dr. Pappas patiently answered all of the reporter's questions, then finally excused himself to get ready for his lecture the following day. Melinda was reluctant to let the reporter leave, she had so few friends except her daddy and their housekeeper, Dora and she felt that Kelly might be a friend. She racked her brain for an excuse to keep the striking woman there for a bit longer, then remembered that the hydrangeas were just now in bloom, even though one really could see very little of them in the moonlight. Nevertheless, she suggested a stroll through the garden before Miss Stanwyck left the house, which she readily agreed to.

"Melinda, what a perfectly lovely name for a lovely woman," Kelly said as they sauntered down the path, "so why does your father call you Mel?"

"Oh, Daddy called me Mel since I was knee high to a grasshopper, Miss Stanwyck, he's always given people nicknames or shortened their names."

Kelly smiled full force at Melinda, then suggested, "You might call me Kelly, you know, we are not that far apart in age." She stopped at a bench set near the fountain in the middle of the garden. "Shall we sit for a few minutes?"

Melinda gratefully sank down on the bench, then realized it was a mistake, she was far too close to the striking reporter. She just hoped that Kelly couldn't see her flushing in the dark. She had no idea why she felt so giddy and nervous around the woman, but somehow, Kelly affected her differently than other women did, made her long to talk for hours, something she rarely did. "Um, did you get enough material for your article, Kelly?"

"Yes, thank you, Melinda, I certainly did. Tell me, though, why isn't your name on the articles your father has written? He said that you did quite a bit of the translation of the scrolls he's come across, that you are much better with the more common variety of Greek than he is, that you can even translate on the fly. I find that very unusual and most intriguing."

"Oh, well, that's not anything special," Melinda said modestly. "Daddy taught me everything I know, I suspect he was just trying to keep me busy in the summers after my mother died."

Kelly noted the flare of sadness in Melinda's eyes and impulsively reached over and touched the younger woman's cheek. "I'm sorry about your mother," she said quietly, "I lost my mother when I was very young as well. It hurts like hell, doesn't it?"

"Oh, I'm quite over it, I assure you, that was many years ago," Melinda said carefully. "I've just had my hands full taking care of Daddy."

"Ah, no time for you to be a little girl, then," Kelly said, seeing her remark hit the spot with remarkable accuracy. Melinda stiffened defensively, but Kelly persisted. "Like I said, it hurts like hell, doesn't it? I know your kind, you are allowed by your society to weep and wail for a year, then you must take every else's feelings into account, even to the point of ruthlessly squashing your own. True, my dear?" Melinda's eyes widened, partly in horror of being seen through, partly in an effort to keep the sudden tears at bay. Kelly relented a little. "Melinda, I'm sorry, as a reporter I tend to cut to the heart of the matter, I can't help it, but I feel like you need someone to talk to, so here I am." Melinda lowered her eyes and balled her fists, fighting to keep her composure. Slowly but surely, her composure cracked and the tears started sliding down her face. She tried to hide her face in her hands, but Kelly pulled them away, softly saying, "don't fight it, Melinda, please don't fight it, honey." She guided Melinda's head to her shoulder, then put her arms around the quivering young woman.

After a bit, Melinda stopped crying and just let her head rest on Kelly's shoulder, tentatively putting an arm around the other woman's waist to steady herself. They sat like that for some time until Kelly started laughing and saying that her butt was numb, could they please stand up? Melinda had to admit that the stone bench wasn't the very most comfortable seat in the world and stood up, somehow winding up in a long embrace. She could feel the heat of Kelly's body against hers, touching off exciting little quivers through her entire body, a most unfamiliar feeling. She pulled back, and saw the moon striking Kelly's features, hooding her eyes and bringing out her cheekbones, feeling herself swaying toward the woman as if they were about to kiss...

...and somehow managed to trip. Melinda blurted, "oh, shit!" then clapped a hand to her mouth in absolute horror. Kelly helped her stand back up, managing not to laugh at the young woman, but instead patted her back in a friendly manner, saying that she'd better leave, morning would come far too soon. Melinda hesitated, then asked, "Will I get to see you again?"

"Probably not for a while, I have to go back to Boston in the morning, my train leaves pretty early. I had a lovely time, Melinda, just lovely. Tell your father thank you for me, won't you?" She started walking back up the path, causing Melinda to hurry to catch her, which she did at the back door. "I'll just grab my coat and keys, then be on my merry way," Kelly said as they walked through the house, "besides, I need to return my friend's car tonight so she can take me to the train station. I had a great time, good luck in the future."

"Thank you," Melinda said as they passed through the front door. Kelly paused, leaned over and kissed Melinda on the cheek, then turned and got in the car. Melinda watched as she drove away, feeling like something was interrupted, something important.

The past: 1956

"Miss Mel, there is a gentleman here to see you, he says his name is Captain John Pappas. I put him in the library."

"Thank you, Dora, did he say what he wanted?"

"No, ma'am, he didn't, but he sure reminds me of your daddy."

"Hmm, and not that many Pappases around. Thanks, could you bring me some iced tea?"

"There's already a tray with him."

Mel Pappas nodded absently as she took off her hat and smoothed her raven hair, adjusting a few bobby pins as she walked to the library. Mel was curious, she didn't know a John Pappas, but then again, she knew very few members of her family. She walked into the library, intend on introducing herself, but when she saw the man, her jaw went slack, it was as if she were looking in a mirror and seeing her face and body as a man.

"Startling, isn't it? I'm Captain John Pappas and I have an interesting tale for you, if you'd care to hear it," the man said in a mid-western accent. He motioned at the other wing chair and Mel walked over, sinking gratefully into the chair. He poured her a glass of tea and handed it over, then said, "I just found out recently that many of my suppositions about my life are false. Ah, I'm starting off badly, let me try again." He twisted his hat in his hands, searching for the right words, then stated flatly, "I recently found out that I had a half-sister when I went through my mother's papers. She died last week, just as I received my orders to go to North Carolina to report to a new position with the Army Corp of Engineers. Anyway, I found that my father, Thomas Pappas, did not die as I had been told, but instead my mother divorced him. I know this is a shock, it was a shock for me as well. Anyway, Mother kept up with him for a number of years, it seems that they loved each other but couldn't stand to live with each other, and in her papers she mentioned that my father remarried and had a daughter named Melinda. I found a more recent article, dating back a few years, about your receiving your doctorate and it mentioned where you were teaching, so I decided that on my way, I would look you up. So, here I am."

"My brother? You are my brother?"

"It seems so," he answered, smiling and revealing dimples in his cheeks. Before he could say anything else, Mel heard the door slamming open and Janice bellowing, "Mel? Where are you?"

Mel set her glass down and went to find her partner, who had already started stripping off her hose. "My goodness, Janice, can't you wait for a few minutes? We have-"

"-been separated all day, you lovely dish, you," Janice purred as she ran her hands under Mel's suit jacket. "Gods, I've missed you today," she mumbled into Mel's chest.

"Janice-"

"Let me take you directly upstairs and-"

"Melinda?"

Mel whirled around, trying to untangle Janice's hands from her waist as she said weakly, "John, meet Dr. Janice Covington. Janice, meet my brother, Captain John Pappas."

Janice took in the uniform, the body and face so similar to her lover's and his quirking eyebrow as she started buttoning Mel's blouse. "Um, hi, I'd offer to shake hands, but I'm a bit busy," she stuttered.

John smiled broadly, then winked at Mel. "I can wait in the library for the two of you," he said smoothly. "Or, I can go to the kitchen and grab another glass and ice, I'm sure you'd like a glass of tea to cool you down."

"Yeah, sounds great," Janice muttered as the captain headed toward the kitchen. After he left, she lead Mel to the library, then sank down on the couch, pulling Mel down to sit beside her. She took a deep breath, then asked, "where'd you dig him up?"

"I didn't, Janice, he just appeared today and was telling me that he is my half-brother. I guess Daddy was married before and neglected to inform me that he had a son. He seems nice enough, but now you had to, well..." Mel reached for her glass and drained it, then held the glass to her forehead. "My stars, Janice, what will he think of us?"

"I guess we can't say that we're sisters or cousins, then?"

Mel smiled. "No, honey, I don't quite think he'd buy that. I think I hear him coming back." She straightened up as John re-entered the room with another tray, this one filled with a large tea glass, three smaller glasses and a bottle of whiskey.

John set the tray down on the tea trolley, then quickly poured more tea and shots of whiskey, handing them around. Janice drained her whiskey in one gulp, then followed it by half a glass of tea. She placed both glasses on the table, then said, "Well, you're Mel's brother, then."

"Yes, I am, Dr. Covington. As I started to explain, I was cleaning out my mother's papers after she died and found out that Melinda and I share the same father. My parents divorced before I was born, it seems that my mother didn't even tell Thomas that I existed, but they did continue to write letters to each other and my mother kept clippings on Melinda, which is how I tracked her down here." He paused for a sip of tea, then said, "I must say that I'm pleased by having such a smart sister."

"Why, thank you John. So, do you have any family?"

He reached for his wallet, flipped it open to a picture, then handed it over. "Yes, my wife, Katherine and our daughter, Helen. Helen just turned two and is such an intelligent youngster. I know it sounds like a proud daddy talking, but she is already picking out words from the newspaper and such. If you like, I'll bring her up to meet you two some day." He took his wallet back from Mel, then glanced at his watch. "Good heavens, where has the day gone? I need to be back on the road soon. Melinda, do you mind if I keep in touch with you?"

"No, I'd enjoy that."

"Good." The three stood up, then looked awkwardly at each other for a long moment until John stepped closer and shook hands with both women. "I'll save the brotherly hug and peck on the check until I know you better," he said, dimples showing. "Well, I'd best be off to Fort Collins. I'll drop you a line or have Katherine write a longer letter, she really enjoys writing. Thank you for the hospitality."

"You're mighty welcome, John. I'll show you to the door," Mel said automatically. Several minutes later, she returned and sat down on the couch next to Janice, saying, "My stars, I have a big brother."

"Humph."

"Now Janice-"

"Mel, he could be just someone wanting to get your money, he might not even be in the Army."

Mel pulled Janice into her arms and stroked her partner's reddish gold hair. "No, honey," she said seriously, "I believe him. I felt a connection to him. Besides, how often does a stranger come to your house who looks as much like yourself as John does me? And that picture of his family, Helen looks just like I did at that age."

"Be careful, please?"

"I will be, Janice, I promise I will be."

The present

Brigid sat at Janice's desk, looking through her papers, sometimes making notes on a legal pad, but mostly scanning them with a reporter's eye for a story. Janice Covington was a rather contradictory character, she thought, so tough, yet so insecure. She reached back in the archival box and pulled out what seemed to be a diary and opened it, curious to see what Janice had written in it. The first entry, in a rather childish hand, said:

February 2, 1925.

I hate writing. It's a fact, I just hate stringing words together, but my grandmother tells me that it will make life easier to put feelings down on paper. I don't want to be emotional, I'd rather take everything with the same grin that Grandpa Laura had, sitting back and watching everyone. But, Grandmother Elisabeth insisted, buying me this diary for Christmas.

Guess I'd better explain a bit. My parents are Harry and Cora Covington, although we don't know where Mother is right now, she left Daddy. His parents are dead and have been for years, I don't remember their names. Mother's parents are Dr. Leslie and Mrs. Elisabeth Bills, who are really neat people. Granddaddy just retired from teaching classics in New York at the university and Grandmother taught classics many years ago in Texas. She still tutors students in almost any subject except medicine, I think. Anyway, Granddaddy's parents were Ruby Bills and Laura Wilkins, my great-grandmother and great-grandfather, whom everyone calls Grandma and Grandpa. Granddaddy's real father was a minister with a Greek first name, Lycurgus. He died in a fire and Grandma moved in with Grandpa.

This is the part that Grandmother insists that I need to write about. Grandpa died a few days ago, she was pretty sick. I don't know what with, but she coughed a lot and I think it started with the cold she caught over Christmas. I lived with Grandma and Grandpa this past summer after Mother ran away and learned lots about horses, shooting pistols and even a little about research. I really miss Grandpa, even though I didn't see her and Grandma very often, usually just during the summers and holidays. But, the farm will stay in the family, according to Granddaddy. The old foreman, Seth Terrill and his wife, Bella, had five children, the last of which was Colleen, who just married Uncle Robert. I think they'll take over the ranch, so strangely enough, it will be back in Wilkins-Bills hands.

Brigid carefully closed the diary, then re-opened it and re-read several sentences. She heard Mel enter the room and asked, "Aunt Mel, who were Laura Wilkins and Ruby Bills?"

Mel leaned over to kiss Brigid's cheek, then settled in the chair beside Janice's desk. "They were Janice's great-grandparents. I assume you've read at least the first entry in the diary? To make a very long story short, Laura Wilkins moved to Texas with her husband, George, to start a ranch after the War Between the States. They had a son, George Jr., but the two Georges were killed in an Indian raid. Laura took over the running of the ranch with her foreman, Peter, then eventually met Ruby Bills, who had come to Texas with her husband, Lycurgus Bills."

"The minister?"

"Yes, he was a Methodist-Episcopal minister, ME South, of course. Getting back to my story, the reverend was killed in a fire at a picnic when Leslie was but a few months old. Laura took them in and helped raise Leslie." Mel smiled, continuing, "we found Ruby's diary soon after we came back to the States, and of course, read it. Actually, we discovered it was a series of diaries, but I'm digressing. It seems that the two women were lovers, life-long partners. The funny part is that Janice never realized they were lovers until she read the diary." Mel put her hands together, steepling her fingers. "Janice had been with a number of women before we met, why she didn't know they were lovers, I'll never be able to figure out. Leslie apparently called them 'Ma' and 'Pa' all his life."

Brigid scribbled a few notes down, then asked, "Aunt Mel, let me be plain for a moment, in this article I'm supposed to write, should I be blunt about the fact that you two and Aunt Janice were lovers, or gloss over it?"

Mel looked steadily at the young woman for several seconds before answering. "My dear, you have my permission to state the facts baldly. I'm too old to give a damn anymore; Janice never gave a damn who knew she loved women. It might help other women to know that we managed to love each other for so many years, so go ahead and tell the truth. Let me ask you, have you and Helen ever really come out?"

Brigid sighed heavily. "Ah, the sore point, Auntie. My secretary and my boss know, I've brought Helen to office parties, we've consolidated our finances, but Helen refuses to take me to university functions or to admit to anyone that she's gay. I'm not sure why, either."

"Because it is no one's business but ours," Helen snapped. The other two women looked up, startled. "I overheard the last comment, my dear, you may not use the article on Janice to out us at home. I teach at a church supported university, for crying out loud! Even with tenure, they'd fire me in a minute!"

"Helen, don't you think they know by now?" Brigid countered.

"Not if I don't flaunt you in their faces," Helen snarled.

"Girls, calm down," Mel interposed. "Helen, I understand, I was afraid for Janice until she got tenure, but I doubt they would have fired her, the president and dean were afraid of losing my money. Now, Helen dear, would you like to help me with some scrolls? I had forgotten them after our last dig in Greece, they seem to be from someone different altogether, I pulled them out of the attic this morning."

"What? Aunt Mel, you have no business being in the attic, you could have fallen and hurt yourself-"

Mel stood up and said in a flat voice, "Helen, I may be old, even ancient, but I am still very healthy and strong, thank you very much." Her blue eyes blazed into her niece's, anger making them darker than usual. "For your information, I still work out in the gym in the basement every day, which I seriously doubt that you do. Just don't tell me what to do and don't treat me like an old fool!" Helen sagged against the door, feeling properly chastised. The last time she'd heard her aunt speaking in that strange, non-accented voice was when she was sixteen and had come to live with them after losing her parents. Oh, how she hated that voice! "Now," said Mel in her normal soft drawl, "would you like to help me with the scrolls or not?"

"I guess I can, Auntie. I just didn't want to lose you, too."

Mel's face softened. "Apology accepted, Helen. Come on in and pull up a chair, we have a lot of work to do." Helen walked into the study, cautiously taking a seat beside Mel's desk as Mel moved to her desk chair. "Oh, heavens, I nearly forgot the cotton gloves for you, I'll be back in a moment."

After Mel left the room, Helen turned to Brigid and asked, "Was I being a total ass?"

Her lover grinned and answered, "Yep, you sure were, darling."

The past: 1972

Sophia was crooning "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face" along with the radio to Helen as they drove back from the movies to Helen's place. Helen rolled her eyes as Sophia sang, finally growling, "Will you shut up and drive? That is one of the sappiest pieces of shit that has come across the radio in some time."

"I thought you said 'Bridge over Troubled Water' was worse."

"Never mind, drive. My grandparents are trying to be tough and said I have to be in before 11:00 and it's ten 'til. I don't want to get into trouble again."

"What will they do, send you to a military school?"

"Ha, ha. No, they'd probably send me to South Carolina to live with my aunts, the really tough ones."

"Oh." Sophia drove in silence until they came to the house, then stopped to let Helen out. "Do you want to hang out tomorrow? It's Saturday, you know."

"I'm not sure, Grandmother was saying something about getting the beds ready for flowers, so I might be pretty busy." Helen unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door. Before shutting it, she said, "don't forget our study date Sunday night, we do have a pretty big test in history."

"Yeah, thanks for reminding me," Sophia said sarcastically. "Well, I'll see you Sunday night, then."

Helen walked slowly into the house, mentally girding herself for the inevitable questions about the movie and how her evening went. As she hung up her jacket, her grandfather called out, "Helen? That you?"

"Yes, Grandfather." She walked into the den where her grandparents were watching a late night movie and slammed herself into one of the armchairs. "The movie was stupid, but it served to occupy time."

"Is that so? At least you made it before curfew," he concluded, "but your grandmother and I aren't sure we like you hanging around with Sophia, we've heard some nasty rumors about her."

Helen felt her temper flaring up and struggled to keep a lid on it. "Like what? Do you have evidence of anything?"

"Dear, we're just concerned. Why don't you invite her to dinner Sunday night before you two start your studying? We could get to know her a little better and she would have a chance to disprove the rumors your grandfather and I have heard from the neighbors."

"Wonderful," Helen said stiffly, "I'll call and ask her in the morning. I'm off to bed."

The Millers watched their granddaughter stomp off, then heard her run up the stairs and slam her bedroom door shut. "Oh dear," her grandmother said, "she's so unhappy these days, she doesn't know what to do with herself."

"I know, sweetheart, but with Thomas and Virginia both gone, we had to take her in. She sure looks like Thomas, more so every day."

"Do you think she'll get his height?"

"She might, dear, remember that her Aunt Melinda is very tall for a woman."

The couple fell silent, then went back to watching their movie, neither one expressing their deeper fears that Helen would explode and go wild. The child had never truly grieved for her parents, her father had died in Vietnam a year ago, then her mother had been sent overseas for a Red Cross mission and had been cut down by snipers just six months later. Ever since the Korean war, battle was somehow different, they mused, with police actions instead of all out wars. No wonder the US could not win.

The Sunday supper had actually gone fairly well. Sophia had managed to charm the Millers, then actually stayed focused on the history test for the remainder of the night. Helen was relieved that all had gone so well, Sophia's friendship was pretty important to her. Sophia was the first girl to befriend her when she came to Asbury three months ago, thrown into a completely different culture from the Army. She was used to having to make new friends in a hurry, but always could find at least a couple of other service brats to hang around with, but this time, there were no other Army brats. She yawned as she turned back the covers and slid into the bed, feeling fairly well prepared for once. She hated to admit it, but history was one of her favorite subjects and she usually did very well in her history classes.

Several hours later, Helen heard a faint scratching at her bedroom window. She rolled out of bed and opened the window to let Sophia in. "Damn, girl," she whispered, "can't sleep again?"

Sophia shut the window behind her, then sat on the bed to remove her shoes. "Nope," she whispered back, "Daddy tried to beat me again, but Mom convinced him to lock me in my room instead. Good thing that pecan tree is so close to the house. Hey, can I borrow a nightshirt?"

"Sure, let me grab you one," Helen whispered as she started rooting through her dresser. She pulled out a long t-shirt, then turned around to hand it to Sophia, who had already stripped down to her underwear. Helen never could get over how comfortable Sophia was with her body, never bothering to go into the bathroom to change when she popped in to sleep with Helen on nights that her dad beat her. Helen managed to focus on Sophia's hazel eyes and not look at her breasts or slender waist, or imagine what the boys that Sophia dated would do with her breasts. Helen, at the grand old age of nearly seventeen, still had small breasts and was on the dumpy side, or so she felt. Why couldn't she look sophisticated like Sophia? She crawled back in bed, waiting for Sophia to crawl in with her. "Good-night, Sophia," she mumbled.

"Good-night, Helen," Sophia said as she squeezed the other girl's hand. Sophia suppressed a sob after Helen turned over to face the edge of the bed, how she longed to be held comfortingly by her friend. She waited until Helen fell asleep, then lightly stroked Helen's black hair, noting the fine texture and exquisite shine, blue-black in the moonlight, fighting the urge to take Helen into her arms and -- what? What would she do? Would she trail kisses down Helen's jawline and slip her hand under Helen's shirt, like Rob did on their dates? What would Helen do if she casually slung her arm across her in her sleep? Would she wake up and kick Sophia out of bed? Why did she have these powerful urges toward Helen? She contemplated these thoughts as she watched Helen sleeping, watching her eyes darting back and forth while Helen dreamed, wondering if Helen ever had the same feelings. Could she ever get Helen to experiment? She rolled over to face the other side of the bed, tears slowly coursing down her cheeks...

"Hey Helen, have a brownie," Sophia said as they finished their lunches on the front lawn of the school.

"Don't mind if I do," Helen said, reaching for a couple of brownies. "That test wasn't too bad after, admit it."

"Well, whatever," Sophia said as she munched on a small brownie, waiting expectantly. She didn't have long to wait; the world started shifting pleasantly, taking on a whole different meaning. She smiled to herself, thanking Rex silently for such a good stash, a new blend, he had said.

Helen polished off the second brownie, chastising herself for not being able to control her appetite, but the brownies were so tempting and so good, such a nice thing for Sophia to do for her. Helen beamed at her friend as she wiped her hands on her napkin, about to thank her when she noticed that the school was turning funny colors. Curious, she watched as the clouds started dancing in the sky, laughing at the funny faces that they were making, leaning over until she was nearly laying in Sophia's lap when...

...it came swooping down from the trees, screeching at her, extending its horrible claws in an effort to grab her legs. She sat up, heart pounding, watching as the thing swooped down on her again, this time clawing her face until the blood ran freely. She staggered up, swinging her book bag at the hideous monster, trying to scare it off, but it kept coming at her, diving again and again, like the guardians of hell. Another figure appeared, looking like Satan himself, stroking his black beard and saying, "Honey, what time is it?" He laughed a terrible laugh, sending her temper flaring as he reached for her hand to draw her close to his hellishly perfect body. She could feel her skin sizzling from the contact and started panicking, fighting for all she was worth, somehow drawing on skills her dad must have taught her, whirling around and catching the devil on his head, hearing her foot making solid contact...

...and the world went black. The devil, now dressed completely in black leather, shook his shaggy head, saying, "You'll never learn, Xena, I don't go down that easily..."

...and waking up in a hospital bed, surrounded by her grandparents and her aunts. She blearily looked at the tubes running down from several bags to her arm, feeling like she'd had the hell knocked out of her. She barely focused on Aunt Janice, who stared at her with those fierce green eyes, looking at her with exasperation. "Hey, looks like our favorite niece decided to rejoin the land of the living," she said.

"Oh, honey, you've been out for several days, how do you feel?" Aunt Mel asked in her soft drawl. Helen's eyes shifted to meet her aunt's blue eyes, so much like her own blue eyes, suddenly feeling ashamed. Mel stood by the edge of the bed and brushed Helen's bangs away from her eyes. "Your friend fed you some hallucinogenic drugs in the brownies and you beat up a young man," Mel continued as she touched Helen's cheek. "The police were called and had to finally shoot you with a tranquilizer dart, you were so high. Your friend is now in reform school and you are coming home with us."

"What?"

"In other words, you blew it big time and we're gonna straighten you out," Janice supplied cheerfully. "Hey, you can join us in Greece for part whatever of our excavations." Helen turned to face the smaller woman, apprehensive at the glee in her aunt's voice. "Yup, I'm gonna work your butt off, young lady, and if you fuck up this time, you go to jail. Drugs or not, you're about to make some huge mistakes and we're not gonna let you."

"Oh." Helen couldn't think of anything else to say, except, "I think I aced my history test." Then she was puzzled why everyone laughed at her...

The present

Brigid was busily typing on her laptop, feeling the story starting to gel. She was so busy that she didn't hear Helen come in until the other woman looked over her shoulder and exclaim, "What do you think you are writing?"

"Helen, Mel gave me permission to write the real story behind the discovery of the Xena Scrolls."

"But honey, you are portraying them as, ah, lovers."

"Dearheart," Brigid said as she turned away from the desk, "they were lovers for over fifty years. They became lovers while trying to recover the scrolls and several artifacts from Dr.Calisandra Leesto. Yes, Aunt Janice was pretty famous in archeological circles for finding the evidence that Xena and Gabrielle actually existed, but most people just know her as the 'female Indiana Jones', not as a woman. Besides, I think it will do a lot of good for people to read about two women who lived together and loved each other for so many years, despite the homophobia they faced." She tried to pull Helen into an embrace, but Helen stiffened and resisted. "Helen, why are you so nervous about this? I wrote that series on the anniversary of Stonewall and we didn't get hate mail or bombs or anything like that. What is so different about this?"

Helen sank down in the side chair, trying to pull her thoughts together. She knew she wasn't being fair to her partner, yet she was reluctant to share her unconventional family history with the world. On the other hand, she was a historian and should understand the need to explore the past and hold it up to the illumination of the present. Finally, she took Brigid's hand in hers and kissed it gently, then answered, "I guess I'm afraid of ridicule."

"Ridicule?"

"Yes. Brigid, my dear beloved, what would you say if you knew that various members of this family have experienced contact with Gabrielle and Xena? That Xena and Gabrielle briefly inhabited Mel and Janice's bodies? It sounds so ridiculous, yet it is almost as if their souls keep living in their descendents somehow, drawing people together time and again. But, Aunt Janice swears that she actually talked to Xena in Aunt Mel's body and that Gabrielle talked to her. Doesn't that sound crazy?"

Brigid took a deep breath, then answered quietly, "No, it doesn't. There is so much we still don't know about--"

"Oh, there y'all are," Mel's voice floated over to them as she entered the room. "I take it that you are working on the article about Janice together?"

"Something like that," Brigid smirked.

"That is so nice, maybe you can share a byline," Mel mused as she sat down at her desk. She smiled at the two women, observing, "You know, Janice and I sat just like that many a time, arguing over the translation of various scrolls. Do you remember, Helen?"

Helen reluctantly said, "Yes, I do." She cleared her throat, then muttered, "I give up, I just give up." She stood up and walked out of the room without another word.

Brigid watched her lover, then turned to Mel. "Why has she been so jumpy since we got here?"

Mel picked up one of Janice's journals and stroked it fondly before replying, "She's having trouble letting go of Janice, honey, just like she had trouble letting go of her parents. She'll come around, but the storm might be pretty intense, we thought she might go over the edge for sure when she first came to live with us."

"So, sounds like it was pretty bad. Aunt Mel, how are you holding up? You seem to unruffled, so calm to have lost your spouse."

Melinda took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes, then replaced them. "Brigid, I miss her fiercely, her ghost is haunting me all the time; I have cried myself to sleep every night. But, I have to remember the good times and bless the gods for letting us have so much time together. Besides, cracked idea or not, I truly believe that Xena and Gabrielle are looking after my Janice now and I will join them in due time. Also, a lady just does not let her emotional state drag down her guests, it is impolite," she finished with a small smile.

The past: 1973

"I hate school, I hate my life, I'd be better off dead!" Helen screamed at Janice. Janice merely shrugged her shoulders and returned to her cigar, rocking slightly in the porch swing as she watched her niece pacing back and forth. "You just don't understand, do you? I've lost everyone, absolutely everyone and my grandparents kicked me out. Damn it, Aunt Janice, what the hell am I going to do?"

Janice rolled her cigar between her fingers and thumb, contemplating it before answering. "Well, let's work from the first screaming fit, that you hate school. I hated school until I was in college and discovered girls, then things were much better. Have you found anyone that you are interested in?"

Helen stared unbelievingly at her aunt. What did her nonexistent dating life have to do with anything? "Exactly what do you mean?" she asked cautiously.

Janice shrugged expressively, then puffed contently on her cigar, watching the young woman. Finally, she said, "Just what I said, Helen, are you interested in anyone? Dated anyone? I don't remember you bringing anyone around here, I didn't know if I just missed your friends or if you didn't have any yet."

Helen slumped in one of the wicker chairs, stretching out her long legs. In the six months she had been in South Carolina, she had grown five inches taller and had slimmed down nicely. Of course, it might have something to do with the fact that Janice insisted on those long workouts every day, including martial arts. She ran her fingers nervously through her long black hair, then admitted, "I haven't dated anyone, Aunt Janice, and most of the kids ignore me. What am I doing wrong?"

"Oh, probably nothing, except living with two lesbians," Janice said mildly, watching for any reaction.

Helen stared at her aunt, confused. "Lesbians?"

Janice laughed softly. "Honey child, to use one of Mel's expressions, didn't you ever wonder why Mel and I share a room? The whole town knows that we're together and have been for thirty years. Why, does it bother you?"

"I just never stopped to think about it," Helen said lamely, "I just knew that y'all were always together. Oh my God, you two are really queer? Isn't that a sin or something?"

"Depends on your definition of sin. My definition is from the original meaning of the word, an archery term meaning 'missing the mark'. Good definition, shows that we're all human underneath the skin. But, let me ask you this: is it truly sinful for me to love your aunt so much that I'd go to hell and back for her? Or that I gave up wandering from dig to dig in order to teach and research? Or that Mel gave up several chances to marry other wealthy Southern gentlemen to stick with a damned Yankee? I'm not the easiest person in the world to live with, Helen, but Mel puts up with me and even helped me smooth over the rough edges of my manners." She grinned. "Just a little bit, though."

Helen shifted uneasily in her chair, trying to wrap her mind around this new information. She had been going fairly faithfully to the little Baptist church up the road, more out of a feeling of duty than anything else, but Janice and Mel never went to church. She scratched her nose, then asked, "Have you always been interested in girls? How did you know that you were, um, gay?"

Janice stubbed out her cigar, then answered, "I had always noticed women's bodies, but assumed that it was a passing stage, at least until I was in college. Then, I met Cherie Fletcher, who was the first woman to seduce me, who taught me much about the art of sex. Note I say of sex, not love, I didn't really learn about love until Melinda Pappas waltzed into my life." She grinned at the blushing youngster, then asked, "Hey, you asked. What, did you think that I was chaste until I met Mel?"

"I guess I never gave it any thought."

"Anyway, Cherie dumped me for her fiancée, Hank, whom she conveniently forgot to mention during the three months we were together. I had a crush on her, after she broke my heart, I dated and bedded lots of girls and women, but always guarded my heart until Mel crashed the barriers. I fought my attraction to her, but it was our destiny to be together."

"Wow, that sounds romantic."

"It was," a softly drawling voice said. Helen and Janice looked up to see Mel smiling at them through the back porch screen door. Mel stepped outside and sat on the swing with Janice, affectionately pulling the other woman into her arms. "To tell the truth, Janice was the first woman I ever kissed, and that was under the most horrendous circumstances and with me wearing a tuxedo!"

"But you were so cute!"

"Quiet, Dr. Covington, I'm tellin' this tale. I did feel an attraction for a woman reporter once, but it was so brief that I managed to forget about it quickly, until I met Janice." She stopped to kiss Janice lightly on the forehead, then continued, "I was shocked the first time she kissed me, but I became accustomed to it rather quickly."

"Yowza!"

"You really are a wolf, Dora was right," Mel replied affectionately.

Helen watched the two women banter lightly back and forth, really seeing their deep love for each other for the first time. She had always known that they loved each other and were partners in at least the academic sense, but she never had considered that women could be lovers as well. Besides, they looked so cute together; would she ever find anyone to cuddle with, to share her life with? Unbidden thoughts of Sophia climbing in bed with her rose to the surface, glimpses of Sophia's elegant body as she changed clothes, followed by thoughts of vandalism and being feed hallucinogenic brownies. She shook her head slightly to get rid of the images.

Dora appeared at the door, calling, "Miz Janice, telephone call for you, it's the dean."

"Thanks," Janice replied as she got up. She leaned over, kissing Mel lightly on the lips, then followed Dora into the house to answer the phone. Helen got up and started pacing restlessly again, suddenly feeling very bereft of affection.

"Honey, what's wrong?" Mel asked quietly. Helen shrugged in that ancient teenage way. "Helen, please tell me."

Helen stopped at looked at her aunt, then asked, "Can I drop out of school? I can help Janice dig in the summers, get a job somewhere doing something, I'm just too bored in school."

"No, you may not drop out of school," Mel answered cooly. "If you want to help Janice, you need to complete your education. Why, she insisted that I complete my doctorate-"

"Yeah, I've heard that song and dance before, but everyone makes fun of me, I'm taller than half the boys and-, well, shit, Auntie, no one wants me, they just keep deserting me!" She suddenly grabbed a wicker chair and hurled it across the yard, breathing heavily in her anger.

"Nice toss, Helen, but you don't impress me," she heard her Aunt Mel say. Or, rather, she thought Mel said it, but the voice was somehow flatter, with no drawl to it. She felt a chill run up her spine as she slowly turned to face her aunt, who was leaning against the house, looking like a relaxed snake, ready to strike. "I've seen much worse, Helen, much worse. You don't scare me, you don't scare Janice, so stop trying and straighten up your act." Helen actually shivered, feeling authority ringing behind her aunt's words, practically seeing power radiating from Mel's body. Mel quirked an eyebrow, then asked lightly, "Are you planning to toss any other chairs, or shall we sit and talk about your problems?"

"Um." Helen stared at her aunt, who was now striding over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I don't know, Auntie, I just don't know," she said brokenly. She took a ragged breath, aware that tears were very close to the surface, tears that she had been avoiding since receiving the news that her father had been shot down over Vietnam. "No, I guess I'm not okay," she concluded.

"Dear, I lost my mother when I was very young, then I lost my father shortly before I met Janice," Mel said in her normal voice. "Janice's mother left her father when Janice was about eight, then the next year her beloved great-grandmother died of flu. We do know about death, how it kicks hard, how you feel so deserted," she said as she reached up to touch Helen's cheek. "Believe me, Janice and I have lived with losses, please let us help you with yours," she concluded.

Helen tried to hold back, but her chest was aching so much and Mel's hand was so soft on her cheek. She clenched her fists, then gave up and blindly reached for her aunt as the emotions crashed down her self-control, battering at the self-imposed walls. She felt Mel holding her, heard her humming softly, just letting her sob out her sorrows until the tears ran dry. Finally, she pulled back and whispered, "thank you."

Mel smiled, then kissed her cheek. "You're welcome. Oh, by the way, love is also taking in your niece, who is in the verge of making mistakes, because you want to see her have the chance to make use of her brains and her talent." She looked into the blue eyes, so similar to her own, then asked, "Did I ever tell you how I met your father? No? Well, he was on his way to Fort something or another and had just discovered that he had a half-sister, namely, me." Mel steered her niece back to the swing, sitting down with her and wrapping her arms around the tall young woman as if she were a baby. "I believe it was 1956..."

The present

Brigid and Helen reluctantly said good-bye to Mel before they drove back to the airport, Brigid had received a call from her editor saying that he needed her back to work on a breaking story immediately. Mel promised to come to Asbury in a few weeks and spend a little time with them, but said she needed to get some more of Janice's papers in order first. "You girls be good and don't worry about exposing my love for Janice," she said more to Helen than to Brigid. "A southern lady can handle anything, especially if she has the right hat and gloves to wear."

"Hat and gloves?" Brigid questioned.

"Old traditions, Brigid, not truly observed any longer, much to my dismay," Mel replied. "You two better hurry or you won't get your car turned in on time." She hugged and kissed both women one more time, then said, "y'all better get a move on, you hear?"

"Yes, Aunt Mel," they chorused.

Several days later, Helen was grading papers in her office at school, half-listening to a Patsy Cline c.d. that Janice had given her for Christmas a few years ago. Patsy was singing, "I fall to pieces / how can I be just your friend?" as one of Helen's students timidly knocked at the door frame. "Dr. Pappas?" she queried, "may I come in for a few minutes?" Helen looked up and nodded. The girl shut the door behind her and carefully laid her backpack in one of the chairs and sat in the other one. "Um, I've been debating whether or not to ask this, but I'm about to go crazy and you seem pretty nice, Dr. Pappas." She fell silent, twisting the tail of her denim shirt until Helen prompted, "What did you want to ask me, Darlene?"

Darlene took a deep breath, then asked softly, "Dr. Pappas, I'm scared."

A long silence ensued, so Helen finally asked, "Darlene, why are you scared? What can I do to help you?"

"Dr. Pappas, I think I've fallen in love." Darlene grabbed a tissue from the box on Helen's desk and wiped her eyes before she continued. "Oh, God, it's awful, I'm in love with my best friend, Janet. I'm so ashamed, I know I'm damned to hell, but I can't help myself! What am I going to do?"

Helen felt her pulse racing, unsure how to reply. Damn, why did the girl come to her? What did she expect? "Darlene, I'm still in the dark as to how I can help you."

The girl sighed noisily, then replied, "I don't know either, Dr. Pappas, but I've always been taught that it is sinful just to be gay, so I'm condemned to hell no matter what I do. Oh, I'm not putting this well, I know, but you've always told us in class that if we needed help, just to come to you during office hours, so here I am. You have the reputation on campus of being open-minded, so I thought you might not kick me out for admitting that I'm gay, or at least I think I am. You won't do anything, will you?"

"No, what you tell me is confidential," Helen assured her. "Now, why do you think you are in love with Janet?"

"Well," Darlene said as she pulled a small stuffed tiger from her backpack, "Janet has been my friend since we were both freshmen here at Asbury, now we are juniors. She gave me this tiger for my birthday last week, saying that I always remind her of the big cats. Well, that sounds kind of dumb, but she arranged a party at her apartment for me and let me stay over after everyone else left for the night, saying that I'd had too much to drink and shouldn't drive. I know, I'm still underage, but Janet isn't, she worked for several years before coming to college." Darlene stroked the tiger, trying to gather the courage to say the rest. She could feel Dr. Pappas's kindly blue eyes on her, giving her courage to go on. "Janet didn't have any clean sheets for her sofa, so I slept in her bed. Oh, God, I'm so embarrassed! I woke up the next morning, holding her tightly, my hand on her breast. I was about ready to die on the spot, I was so ashamed of my actions, that I got up and snuck out before she woke up. I've been avoiding her since then."

Helen ran her fingers through her short black hair distractedly, knowing exactly what the girl was feeling. Should she let the girl know that she could truly sympathize, or just make general comments? What would Aunt Mel or Aunt Janice do? Maybe the middle road would be the best bet..."Darlene, have you ever felt any attraction to Janet before the party?"

Darlene cuddled the tiger to her chest and answered miserably, "Now that I think about it, I've always been affectionate with her, you know, always hugging her and stuff like that. Since the party, I've had dreams where I found myself kissing her and enjoying it. I've never really dated many guys and they never really tried to get too far with me, so I'm completely out of my depth here."

"Has Janet ever shown signs that she didn't like your hugging her?"

Darlene cocked her head, thinking, then slowly blushing. "Um, no, not that I can think of, but she did hold my hand at a movie last semester. We went to see a scary movie at Halloween and during one scene, she grabbed my hand and seemed to forget that she was holding it. Do you think that she might like me that way?"

"I can't speak for her, but I would go slow with this. I personally don't believe that people are damned for being gay or for loving someone of their own gender," Helen said slowly, heart racing with fear as she spoke. "As far as religion goes, I haven't set foot in a church for years, even when my aunt died recently, that funeral was in the funeral home. I guess what I'm trying to say is that we sometimes have to follow our hearts, but be careful, there are lots of crazy people out there. Talk to her, try to work in something subtle to see how she feels about the whole issue."

"Like the discussion on homosexual behavior between teachers and students in Greek history?"

"Something like that," Helen agreed. She glanced at her watch, realizing that she had only a few minutes to wrap this up before she met Brigid for lunch at home. "Did I help any?"

"Yes, thank you," Darlene said happily.

"Good, if you want to talk any more, just let me know. I'm sorry, but I have lunch plans now and should be shoving off," Helen said as she stood up.

"Thanks, Dr. Pappas, you're pretty cool," Darlene replied as she picked up her pack. She stuffed the tiger back in it, then waited as Helen put on her jacket and walked around the desk. She impulsively hugged the professor just as the door swung open and a voice asked, "Dr. Pappas, could you..."

Helen gently disentangled herself from Darlene's embrace, saying, "I'll see you in class." Darlene walked off, not seeming to notice the shocked look on the department chair's face as he stood with his hand on the door knob. "Yes, Dr. Barry?" Helen asked, wondering what he wanted.

"Dr. Pappas, why were you hugging that young woman, behind closed doors?" Dr. Barry whispered furtively.

"Dr. Barry, Darlene wanted to talk to me in private. Why did you open the door without knocking?" Helen replied, anger seeping into her voice.

"Well, I am your department chair," he answered huffily, "and we must take care not to meet with our students under such private conditions! Just what was so private?"

Helen looked down at the professor, suddenly envisioning a banty rooster with a bow tie. Stuffing the image down for future reference, she answered frostily, "It is none of your business, Dr. Barry, Darlene just needed a sympathetic ear. Now, why did you need to talk to me? I'm late to meet a friend for lunch."

"Oh, yes, my reason," he snapped back, "is that Dr. Skye Gable is coming into town for the history conference that Asbury is hosting and I was wondering if you would be so kind as to pick her up from the airport and entertain her." He thrust a sheaf of papers at her, concluding, "that is her schedule. Would you mind hosting her at your house, our funds are nearly depleted and her university can't afford a hotel."

Helen took a deep breath. Just what she needed, to house some unknown professor at her house. "I guess so," she said reluctantly, "I really do have to go now." She stepped around the man, running her fingers through her hair. Damn, Brigid would be furious with her!

"Hey sweetheart," Brigid called out as she heard Helen walk into the kitchen, "how has your morning gone? I just got here myself, I grabbed sandwiches on the way over. Roast beef okay with you?"

"Sure," Helen replied as she set down her briefcase on the floor. She walked over to the table and kissed Brigid on the cheek, then sat down in her chair. "How has your day gone?"

"Pretty good, actually," Brigid answered before taking a big bite. After she swallowed, she continued, "I just finished up that article on the abortion protestors and have been given the green light to do the article on Aunt Janice. Isn't that great?"

"Yes, honey, it is," Helen answered as she unwrapped her sandwich. "Damn, they put tomatoes on again! Would you like them?" Brigid just grinned as she swiped the offending vegetables from Helen's sandwich. "I had a couple of interesting conversations this morning," Helen continued as she put her sandwich back together. "First, a junior from my introduction to Greek history class came by, then the chair came by just as the student was leaving."

Brigid laid her sandwich down, turning to look at her lover, picking up on the tension. "So, talk. Why did the conversations bother you?"

"Did anyone tell you that you are too damn sensitive for your own good?" Helen groused. "Just like Aunt Mel. Anyway, the student, Darlene, wanted advice, it seems that she thinks she's in love with another girl and was wondering if she was damned to hell. I told her no. Then, as I was trying to leave, she hugged me just as Dr. Barry poked his sorry head in to tell me that I am hosting a Dr. Skye Gable at our house for a history conference."

"No hotel rooms open?"

"Naw, nothing like that, he's just so tight with a penny that he can't stand to spend good money on a hotel room for a visiting professor. All of the other visiting professors for the conference are having their way paid but it seems that her university is short on funds, so he decided to stick her with me."

"Sounds rather sexist, I bet that he would have found the funds for a male professor."

Helen bit into her sandwich, not really tasting it as she chewed. "Brigid, what are we going to do? I don't want anyone else in my house whom I don't know, who doesn't know about our relationship."

"Well, maybe you should pay for a hotel room yourself, or, just not worry about it. Just don't get any ideas about making me give up my favorite pillow. Hey, we could put her in the downstairs bedroom, there is a bathroom nearby."

"But no shower or tub down there. She'd still have to come upstairs to shower."

"Details, details, honey. You like your little plans, don't you?" Brigid finished her sandwich, then looked at Helen's untouched half. "Can I have that?"

"Huh? Yes, you may," Helen said as she handed over the sandwich half. "I guess we'll figure something out. I was afraid you'd be mad."

"Just upset that you misplaced your backbone again, Helen." Brigid reached for her lover's hand. "My beloved, if Mel and Janice could survive some of the most homophobic decades of our nation's history, certainly we can survive these times of more open acceptance."

Helen drained her iced tea, then pulled Brigid's hand over to kiss it. "I guess you're right, I'm just so skittish about all this, you know."

"I know," Brigid answered softly. "But remember, I love you and will back you in whatever you do." She rubbed her hand against her lover's cheek, then asked, "What prompted this student to confide in you?"

"She said I was open-minded and kind."

"She got that right," Brigid said gently, "especially about the kind part." She got up and came behind Helen's chair, pulling her up. "I have an extra hour for lunch since I went in so early and I happen to know that you don't have another class until tonight. Care for a nap?"

"I'm not sleepy."

Brigid grinned devilishly as she slid a hand into the neckline of Helen's shirt. "Neither am I, darling," she cooed as she stroked the soft flesh. "But I know just how to relax you, Dr. Pappas. I understand it's an old family tradition of yours..."

The past: 1966

Debbie Jackson listened sympathetically as her brother, Ed Anderson, poured out his tale of woe over a couple of beers at their parents' summer cottage. Ed was complaining that his wife, Marcella, did very little with their daughter, Brigid, and Brigid was getting to be too big to take to school with him. "Hell, she's been a good girl, but even good girls start walking around, which can be rather distracting for students when I'm trying to lecture." Ed looked down at the sleeping child in his lap, stroking her hair gently. "Debbie, what do you suggest? Do I find good daycare for Brigid, or do I quit my job and make Marcella support us?"

"Ed, you know that Marcella wouldn't do that," Debbie chided. "Besides, what could she do?"

"She could work more hours for that real estate office. I guess I forgot to mention it in my letters, Marcella went to work for a real estate agent as a part time secretary. She says it is to bring in extra income, but I have my doubts." Ed looked down at his sleeping daughter, so perfectly formed. He silently counted is blessings as he looked at the eighteen month old, the light of his heart. Sometimes, he wished he could just take Brigid away, far away from her mother, but everyone knew that mothers were automatically awarded custody of children in any divorce, so he stayed married to Marcella.

Debbie pondered her next question for a long time before she asked it, watching her beloved younger brother and her niece. Ed had been a surprise child, born on Debbie's sixteenth birthday. She had fallen in love with the him from the time her parents brought him home from the hospital, eager to help her mother take care of him until she went off to college. Each summer, she would spend a lot of time with him, watching him grow and change, always eager to indulge Ed's fascination with reading and books, taking him to the public library for children's time, buying him books from her allowance, teaching him when he had questions of the world. He had a fascination with history, but also with economics, always asking why things cost this, why was everything taxed, why, why, why. After graduation with her bachelor's in library science, Debbie had married her college sweetheart, Bobby Jackson, an engineering student. She pulled herself back into the present and asked, "Ed, would you like for me to come help take care of Brigid? Our boys are both grown and married and with Bobby dead, I don't really have any ties to my house any longer."

"You would do that? You would come live with us and take care of my Brigid?" Ed asked eagerly. "Oh, Sis, that would be wonderful, just like old times! The house we're renting right now has three bedrooms, so there should be plenty of space." His face fell as he thought of his wife. "But suppose Marcella doesn't agree?"

"Ed, be a man, just tell her that you decided to ask me to move in, at least until Brigid is in kindergarten. That would only be a few years, maybe I could go back to school and get my master's degree after that. I miss working in libraries, I quit when Bobby Jr. was born. Bobby left me plenty of money, so don't worry about me, I can pay rent and help with the groceries."

"But shouldn't that be-"

"Both of the boys are doing well, don't worry about them, I divided up their share after the probate came through," Debbie assured him. "Besides, even though I loved Bobby dearly, I can't see remarrying, even though old man Goldsmith keeps hinting around." She shuddered as she pictured the lecherous Mr. Goldsmith with his cruel smiles. "You would be rescuing me and I would have an excuse to sell the house. It's too big for me anyway."

"I'll think about it, Debbie," Ed said. "By the way, are Mom and Dad coming to the cottage this year?"

"No, Dad's knees are acting up again. They might come for a day in July, but nothing more."

"Oh. Too bad, I wanted Brigid to see her grandparents again," Ed commented wistfully. "Family is so important to me."

"I know, little brother, I know."

Later that same year

Debbie was surprised at how quickly her house sold, but one of her sons reminded her that she put in on the market just as families who were transferring jobs were desperate to find something in a good school district. So, she packed her clothes, her bedroom suite and a few books to move to Ed and Marcella's house. She was excited and sad all at the same time, but looked forward to spending more time with her beloved little brother and niece.

The October morning dawned bright and clear, cool but beautiful, the type of fall day that poets rhapsodize about. Debbie usually walked back and forth to the church, it was less than a mile each way and good exercise and besides, there was a nice little bookstore on the way that carried her favorite authors. Debbie left the church after she had putting in volunteer hours and decided to stop to see if the latest Agatha Christie mystery had come in yet. As she walked into the store, a new voice called out, "May I help you?" She turned to find a strikingly beautiful woman, probably in her early thirties, standing there smiling at her. "Is there some particular book or genre you are seeking?"

"Ah, yes, the latest Agatha Christie, is it in?"

"Not yet, it should be in next week. In the meantime, I was about to make myself a cup of tea, would you like to join me?" Debbie nodded. The woman motioned for Debbie to follow her to the back of the store, saying, "I usually don't stop for tea in the afternoon, but this has been a rather slow day and David told me I could even close early if there weren't enough customers. Oh, my manners, my name is Betty Riker, I'm a cousin of David's. He is kind enough to let me work while I finish my engineering degree at the university."

"A woman engineer?" Debbie blurted out.

"Yes, dear, a woman engineer. My father was an engineer and I've always loved it, I even helped him with designs when I was in high school. I know that it is difficult for a woman to get hired, but I figure that more electrical engineers will be needed to design computer circuit boards in the future, so I'm aiming that way. What is your name?"

"I am Debbie Jackson, I'm in town helping my brother and sister-in-law take care of their daughter. I've been at loose ends since my husband died and our sons left home."

"I'm so sorry to hear of your husband's death, Mrs. Jackson. Has he been dead long?"

"Just a year, but do call me Debbie, please."

"Debbie, is that short for Deborah?"

Debbie laughed as Betty poured the tea into two mugs. "No, it is just Debbie, Debbie Ann, actually. Is Betty short for Elizabeth?"

"No, I'm in the same boat, although I'm Betty Sue. Betty Sue Riker. Would you care for any sugar, Debbie?"

"Just one lump, please." Debbie watched Betty's delicate hand pick up the sugar tongs and precisely deposit one lump in her mug, then just as precisely deposit a lump in her own mug. Debbie stirred her tea, finding herself staring at Betty's sparkling gray eyes, which practically danced with laughter and mischief. She scolded herself for rudely staring at the woman, yet couldn't help herself.

"So," Betty said after she took a sip of tea, "what else do you do for fun?" She listened intently as Debbie outlined her church volunteer work, her babysitting, her gardening and her reading choices. She admitted that she had worked as a librarian for several years before getting married and sometimes really wanted to get back into it, but who would hire someone who had been out of the field for so long? "Hmm," Betty mused, "you could get your master's degree, I hear from my mother that the master's of library science is starting to replace the bachelor's degree these days. Had you considered going back to school?"

"Yes, but Ed really needs me to help him with Brigid."

Betty reached over and patted Debbie's arm. "My dear, you don't have to keep your niece if you don't want to."

"But I love her, she is so precious."

"Why doesn't her mother take care of her, then?"

Debbie chewed her bottom lip, unsure whether or not to tell the truth to this bright young woman. Finally, she merely said, "Marcella is working part-time, you know how assistant professors are not paid so well. This way, they don't have to put her into daycare."

"Oh."

"Dear me, I should be leaving. Thank you for the tea, Betty, I thoroughly enjoyed it," Debbie said as she glanced at the wall clock. Then, boldly, she said, "Maybe we can do this again some time."

"Yes, I would like that," Betty said as she stood up. "I work every Monday afternoon, then I have classes every morning. Say, do you like bowling? I'm on a Saturday night league and we have an opening, would you consider that?"

"I might," Debbie said. Impulsively, she pulled out a pencil and piece of paper, writing down her name and Ed's phone number. "Give me a ring later this week and I'll think about it. Bobby and I used to bowl a lot on the weekends," she said wistfully.

"I'll do that," Betty said as she helped Debbie with her coat. She watched as Debbie hurried out of the store and down the street, then murmured to the store cat, "That is one terrific woman, looks just like Maureen O'Hara." She sighed as she scratched Old Tom's ears. "I think I'm in love."

Fall segued into winter as Debbie and Betty gradually became good friends. Debbie joined the bowling league, over Marcella's protests, and started meeting Betty for dinner at least once a week, usually between Betty's classes. Betty had a grand sense of humor; Debbie found herself laughing more than she had since Bobby had died, it felt good to laugh so much. She had also never had a girlfriend to be so affectionate, Betty was always hugging her, touching her arm, kissing her cheek goodnight. She missed the easy affection that she and Bobby shared, even though she got to cuddle her niece every day, it just wasn't the same.

Thanksgiving finally came and Ed announced that their parents were going to be at the cottage for the holidays. Marcella was displeased, she wanted to go to her parents' for Thanksgiving, so Ed finally compromised: Thanksgiving with his parents, Christmas with hers. He spontaneously told Debbie that she could invite Betty as well, there should be plenty of room. Marcella argued in private over his invitation, saying that it meant that Debbie would have to share a bedroom with Betty. Ed finally told his wife that his sister was old enough to make up her own mind, besides, she probably wouldn't keep everyone up with giggling fits like young girls had at slumber parties.

"It was really nice of your brother to include me in the invitation," Betty told Debbie as they unpacked their clothes. "This is a really nice place, I thought a cottage would be much smaller."

Debbie smiled as she shut her suitcase and stowed it away. "We used to host even more folks in the summers, we'd set up several tents in the back yard for the kids to sleep in. The adults would take turns sleeping in one of the tents to make sure we didn't get into too much mischief. Ed didn't get to see as much of that, poor brother was betwixt and between, too young for my generation and too old for the grandchildren." She dropped on the bed, tired from the long ride.

Betty finished putting away her clothes and laid on the bed beside Debbie, laying on her side so she could face the other woman. She watched as Debbie fell asleep almost immediately, eyelids covering the dark green eyes, face smoothing out. She had been surprised by the invitation, she knew that she didn't want to go home to face her sullen sister and cranky mother. It never surprised her that her father had deserted them when she was small, but he had written to her faithfully, at least until his heart attack last year. She rubbed her eyes to banish the memory, then concentrated on watching Debbie's chest rising and falling slowly, nearly hypnotized by her breathing. Did she dare lay her head on Debbie's shoulder? It looked so inviting, but she best not dare, that horrid Marcella might come in and screech "rape!" Betty smiled at the notion, then finally closed her eyes, chastely keeping her hands to herself.

The next day was full of food and activity. More families showed up, making the cottage ring with love and laughter, with the sound of children running through the house and yard, with the murmur of the older generations reminiscing. Betty felt almost comfortable, letting her guard down a bit, listening quietly as Debbie spun the most incredible stories for the children. She had no idea that this beautiful woman was such an imaginative storyteller, a natural bard. Finally, night fell and snow started falling with it, gradually giving the landscape a Currier & Ives quality to it. Debbie sought Betty out, whispering, "Let's take a walk in the snow." Betty grabbed her coat and gloves, following Debbie out into the wooded area nearby.

They walked along, boots scrunching the snow, until they came to a clearing. "Betty, this is the magic clearing, or at least my cousins and I called it that," Debbie explained. "See the ring of stones? We would build fires there and roast marshmallows in the summer and just warm ourselves in the winter. I used to make up stories about heroes and tell them around the fire at night." She turned to face her friend, chuckling softly. "Good memories, I just wanted to share them with you."

Betty looked around, entranced by the silent snowfall and the filtered moonlight. She reached for Debbie's gloved hands, holding them in her own, trying not to stare at Debbie's beautifully sculpted cheekbones. "So," she said quietly, "tell me a story."

Debbie laughed, a rich, joyous sound. "Oh, Betty, you don't want to hear any of my tales!" Betty urged her on. Debbie smiled, then led her friend over to one of the split log benches. "Well," she said as they sat down, still holding hands, "I usually retold the stories of Paul Bunyun and his ox Blue, or stories of the Greek and Roman gods and goddesses, but there was one that I dreamed about that I never told anyone. I'm a little embarrassed by it, but..."

"But what?"

"I don't know, maybe you'd like it," Debbie finished shyly. She smiled again, then started, "Once upon a time, there was an evil woman who had rampaged over the land, dealing pain and misery to all who dared cross her army's path. This woman was seen as an absolute devil, evil incarnate, yet she hid a secret pain, the pain of having her village leveled by another warlord. This woman, Xe, finally ran across an opponent she could not subdue: a girl from a small farming village."

"Go on, this sounds good."

"Okay. Um, this girl, Gabs, defied Xe, standing in her path, refusing to let her pass. 'Xe, I know that you could easily slaughter me with your mighty sword, but I refuse to cower and let my people be terrorized by you.' Xe was furious with the girl, growling that she should stand aside. Gabs held her ground and challenged Xe to a battle on her terms. Xe, thinking that Gabs could never defeat her, agreed. 'Xe,' Gabs said, 'I challenge you to a duel of wits, to a story telling contest. Whoever tells the best tale, wins.' Well, Xe was not very happy, she was not that good with words, but she did have a code of honor that she followed, which included not backing out of challenges issued to her. 'I will accept,' she finally said, 'the contest begins tonight.'"

Debbie paused dramatically, noticing how Betty's clear gray eyes hung on to her every word. She wished for a moment that her cousins were all around, just like old times, but then decided that sometimes an audience of one was better, more intimate. She cleared her throat and continued her tale. "That night, Gabs and Xe met at the village square, surrounded by Xe's army and Gabs' village friends and family. Xe went first, telling a bloodthirsty tale of conquest, replete with flashing sword and sizzling whip. Gabs listened quietly, then finally got up on the stage to tell her tale.

" 'Once upon a time,' she began, 'all people had two heads, four arms and four legs. They were happy, content, living harmoniously in the golden age of men. All was well until the fire at one of the temples went out. The god of the temple became angry and shouted, "I will punish you, from henceforth, you will be split, always seeking your other half!" ' The audience was quiet, waiting for Gabs to resume her story. 'Thus, our life long goal is to find our other half, our mate, so we may be whole once more. I ask you, Xe, have you found your other half, your soulmate?' The audience looked expectantly at the warlord, then Gabs added softly, 'Xe, look around you, all of us are seeking our other half, seeking to be made whole. Have you found your other half? Is that why you pursue violence, to avoid finding that which will make you whole?' Xe stared at the girl, then finally admitted, 'I am not whole, Gabs.' Xe took a deep breath and admitted, 'you have won. I will not destroy your village. You have shown courage in the face of adversity, I can respect that.'

"Gabs smiled, then asked, 'May I join you on your quest?' 'What quest?' Xe asked. 'The quest for the other half of your soul,' Gabs replied, 'the q