Date: Mon, 14 Nov 1994 10:35:40 -0500 From: SusanG2522@AOL.COM As you've all been so terribly kind about the unintentionally interminable nature of the current hostilities, here's a little something as a peace offering until I post the next novel. **************** Moving On by Susan M. Garrett Natalie stood in the living room of her new apartment, bemused by the chaos that confronted her. Boxes were piled upon boxes, furniture was scattered here and there-- more or less in the room to which it belonged, but mostly less and hardly in place. Balls of crumpled newspaper were scattered across the floor from the one or two boxes she'd begun to unpack. Now she remembered why she hated moving. She walked to the doors that separated her living room from her dining room--although it would probably become her work room, when did she have anyone over for any type of a semi-formal dinner? Leaning her hand against the molding that surrounded the glass panels, Natalie smiled to herself, thinking of what she might do with just a little time and not too much money. It would be bright, cheery, maybe a bit more frills this time. She'd advanced far enough in her profession that she could afford to indulge herself, take a little time off the job--like Grace was always pushing her to do--and actually go shopping for some real curtains and carpets and wallpaper, instead of making do with what she had. This was a new place, with a new look. A new start. The box on the dining room table caught her eye and she walked back to it with a sigh. She'd barely gotten past the first layer of breakables when she'd stopped and walked away, needing to be somewhere else. Returning to the box, she withdrew the photograph carefully, not wanting to spill fragments of shattered glass on the new rug. The picture had been taken at Richard's graduation from law school. She smiled to herself-- herself in the photo--seeing her own pride at his accomplishment. And Richard had been . . . very serious. Somber, even. She remembered how he'd told her that it was only the first step on a long road, how he was going to make a difference. He'd turned down the offers from the high-priced law firms and had applied and been accepted by a very surprised and pleased Crown Attorney's office. And then he'd died. And died again, because she couldn't let him stay dead . . . . There was a sound from the living room, the front door opening. "Nat?" It was Nick. She put the picture down on the table quickly and wiped the corners of her eyes with her fingers, then forced a pleasant smile on her face and walked back to the glass doors. He was holding two boxes stacked one on top of another. "Let me take that," she said, hurrying over to him and reaching for the upper box. But Nick turned away. "No--don't. They're heavy. Just tell me where you want them." "Let's see--blue marks?" She checked the colored dots she'd placed on the boxes. "Dining room." "Dining room it is." Natalie stepped aside as he swung by her, then closed the front door of her apartment and followed him. By the time she'd reached him, Nick had placed the boxes on the floor and was straightening. "Last two," he announced, with a grin. "Thank God. I don't think I could have fit any more stuff in here." With a sigh, she leaned over the boxes, tried to guess what the scrawled writing on the lid referred to, and then gave it up as a lost cause. "I don't know where half of this stuff came from." "Try moving after a couple of centuries," warned Nick. "Yeah, I've seen your storage space. The curators at the ROM would just to get a look at some of that stuff." "Let's hope they never do." He placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her toward him. "You look beat." "I'd look a lot more beat if you hadn't schlepped all those boxes over here." Slipping her arm around his waist, she let him lead her into the living room. "Thanks. I owe you." "After all you've done for me?" He pulled back from her slightly and smiled. "It was the least I could do. In fact, why don't I take you somewhere for dinner? You must be starving." "If you haven't noticed," Natalie gestured down at her sweatsuit, "I'm not exactly dressed for dinner at the Royal York. And I'm not really up to an archaeological dig through that stuff in my bedroom to find something to wear." "You look fine." "I look like something the cat dragged in," corrected Natalie. Moving away from him, she plopped wearily onto her couch. Still grinning, Nick leaned down over the arm of the couch. "How about delivery, then? Or I can pick something up for you?" "That," said Natalie with a sigh, "would be lovely." She stared up at the ceiling and made a mental note to find and plug in her other two lamps. "Mexican." "Mexican?" echoed Nick doubtfully. "Mexican." Natalie gave a nod, then smiled. "No garlic." Nick straightened and held out his hands in surrender. "Mexican, it is." Turning, he headed toward the door, calling over his shoulder, "I'll be back in five." Closing her eyes, Natalie was trying to decide whether to rouse herself enough to attempt a shower before Nick returned with her dinner. She heard the door-- And then opened her eyes when it didn't close immediately. "Nick?" she asked, seeing him standing in the doorway. He turned, walking back into the room. Janette stood in the hallway outside, sunglasses dangling from her hand. She was wearing a white angora sweater and skintight black pants that reached her ankles. Her heels had been replaced by flat shoes and she wore a kerchief over her hair. For a moment, Natalie simply stared at this demented version of a fifties Barbie doll. But Janette smiled with her perfectly red lips and widened her eyes. "Nicola said you might need help moving. I came to offer my . . . assistance." Nick had seemed stunned, even a little bewildered by her sudden altruism. Then he moved toward the door, saying, "I'm certain Natalie appreciates the offer, but I've gotten everything in. There's no reason we should keep you--" "No, it's all right." Biting back a groan from her weary muscles, Natalie pushed herself to her feet and managed a smile. "Come on in. Nick was just on his way out to pick me up some Mexican." "Were you?" Janette touched the eyepiece of her sunglasses to her lips coyly, smiling at Nick's answering glare. "Yes, I believe he did the same for me, once. Monterrey, wasn't it, Nicola?" Nick's lips moved slightly. Natalie didn't hear what he said, but Janette's eyes widened slightly, although her smile never shifted. Then Nick turned to her, but kept glancing back at Janette. "Maybe I should hold off--it's dinner hour, they'll be crowded--" " am starving," said Natalie firmly, as Janette wandered into the apartment. "Go on. You promised." She caught his arm and tried to push him toward the door. But Nick held his ground, still watching Janette as she walked around the living room, inspecting furniture and boxes. "I don't think--" "Go!" Natalie pushed at him again, finally catching his attention and his smile. "You don't want me starving to death, do you?" "I--" He glanced down at her and smiled. "No. We wouldn't want that." "So go get me dinner. Extra sauce on the tacos." She punctuated her words, tapping him lightly on the chest with each syllable. But when he looked up at Janette again, she added softly, "We'll be fine." "Yeah. Yeah, I know." Nick looked down at her again, then pressed a quick kiss against her check. "I'll be right back." "Just remember to stop at red lights," she called after him. Then Natalie closed the door, leaning on it a moment. "This place has a certain . . . charm to it," announced Janette. Natalie sighed, steeling herself, then she turned and forced a smile to her lips. "I like it." "I should hope so--you've chosen to live here." Janette turned around, eyeing the room again. "Charming . . . yes, that describes it. Small but . . . charming." She shaded her eyes slightly and walked over to the fire place. "How quaint! I presume this doesn't replace the central heating?" "Actually, I thought I'd just burn the rest of the furniture and save on the heating bills," countered Natalie. She walked past Janette and paused at a box that contained books. Opening it, she began to place them on the bookshelf. "What a utilitarian idea." Janette joined her, reached into the box for a handful of books, saying, "May I?" then handed them to Natalie, who placed them on the shelf. "You know," she added, after a pause, "that might not be a bad idea. Destroy the old to make way for the new." Natalie paused, book in hand. "That furniture new." "Oh. I'm sorry to hear that." Smiling sweetly, Janette held out another book. "When Nicola first told me you were moving, I was concerned. He thinks highly of you." "Does he?" asked Natalie, suddenly taking more care with placing the books properly. "Oh yes. Whenever I talk to him, it's always Natalie-this and Natalie-that." "Is it?" she echoed distantly. "All the time. And your . . . cat." Janette clutched the books to her chest and looked down at the floor suspiciously. "It's around here somewhere, yes?" "No." Grinning, Natalie took the books from Janette's arms and placed them on the shelf. "Sidney's at the vet. I want to seal off a few hidey-holes before he finds them." "Ah, yes. Change is difficult for pets, as well as people. But necessary, don't you think?" Without pausing, Janette picked up another armload of books. "Sometimes we just need to leave everything behind and get a new start. New places, new people . . . . It's never easy. But sometimes we don't have a choice, do we? Sometimes things just become too . . . difficult, too , to stay as they are. And so we move and begin again." "I'll bet you've had a lot of experience in that," noted Natalie, as she took the last of the books from Janette. "That . . . and other things." Janette shrugged and wandered back to the center of the room. "One learns to recognize the signs, know the time is coming before it arrives, before things become too dangerous." "And you think things are becoming dangerous for Nick?" asked Natalie. Janette pursed her lips and shook her head lightly. "For Nicola? No. Not for him." She paused, hand on the bookshelf, expression carefully blank. "Dangerous for . . . me?" "Not yet," cautioned Janette, still smiling slightly. "But soon, I should think. Very soon." Natalie took a step toward her, wiping her hands absently on her sweat pants. "And you're telling me this because--?" "As I said, Nicola thinks highly of you. He'd be very upset if something . . . happened to you. I don't like it when he gets upset. He frowns and then he gets these little lines here--" Janette touched the edges of her eyes, frowning slightly. But she met Natalie's gaze evenly and added, more seriously. "If you left, moved on to something else--then he might be a upset. But he'd see the wisdom of it in time. Because, doctor, that's all we have . . . time." Before Natalie could answer, Janette wiped her hands together and smiled. "Well, I think I've done all that I can here. I have a business to run." "I appreciate you having taken time out from your busy schedule," said Natalie wryly. When she started toward the door, Janette held up her hand. "Don't bother showing me the way out--I don't want to interrupt your packing. Give Nicola my regards, won't you. And . . . your cat." Janette opened the door, flicked her sunglasses over her eyes, glanced briefly over her shoulder at Natalie, then glided out, closing the door behind her. For a moment, Natalie simply where she was, hands on her hips, staring at the door. Then she turned, slowly, and looked over her apartment. It suddenly seemed darker than it had been before. On impulse she pulled out a few of the lamps that were scattered around, unwound the cords and plugged them into the walls. That was better, brighter. The sudden chill that she'd gotten from Janette's visit seemed to ease in the presence of the light. But Janette's words echoed through her head, the very polite and vague warning of danger. She was too numb to think, too tired to act. So Natalie found herself back in the dining room, shifting through boxes in an aimless fashion . . . until she came back to the box of photographs, and the broken frame. Smoothing out a piece of newspaper, she tipped the broken glass onto it, then carefully unhinged the back and opened the frame, freeing the trapped slivers. With another piece of newspaper she wiped down the inside of the frame and the photo itself, then placed the photo back in the frame. It was only an eight-by-ten, she could replace the glass easily enough. But she'd never replace Richard. Nor could she ever make amends for what she'd done to him, what she'd asked Nick to do. Holding the picture close to her chest, she wandered into the other room and stood before the fireplace, staring at the empty hearth. She'd lost Richard, twice. What else might the future hold in store for her? Life always held its share of hidden trials and tribulations, like rocks scattered along a dangerous siding along the highway--you never knew whether the next one would be a tiny pebble that might dent your hood, or a boulder that would crush the top of your car. But ever since she'd met Nick, there'd been more boulders than pebbles. Maybe Janette was right, maybe it was time for her to move on. She stared down at the photo in her arms. And what about Nick? They'd been through a lot together. He'd saved her from a serial-rapist. She'd helped to save him from a murder rap. Not to mention the real task he'd set for her, to find him a way back to mortality. She gave him hope, helped him remember what it was like to live within the mortal world and in mortal time, instead of outside of it. He needed her. Just like she needed him. Natalie grimaced as she turned and spotted her belongings piled around her. Yes, she needed Nick and not just for moving boxes and furniture. She needed him to there--to smile and joke with her when she'd had a bad day, to help her make sense of a legal system that seemed to punish so few when so many suffered needlessly, to help her live her life . . . . There was a knock at the door. Natalie started at the sound, then ran to the door and peered through the peep-hole out of reflex. Spotting Nick, she opened the door quickly. He held up a bag from the Mexican take-out place in one hand and a bottle of wine-- wine-- in the other. Frowning slightly, he looked past her, into the apartment. "She's gone," said Natalie, stepping back and letting him enter. Before he could ask, she added, "About ten minutes ago." Tucking the bottle beneath his other arm, Nick reached over and righted one of the end tables that had been stacked near the wall, then set the bottle and bag on top of it, pulling it in front of the couch for her. "Any idea of what she wanted?" "To help. She said." Natalie put Richard's picture face down on the table, then seated herself on the couch, gesturing toward the bookshelf. "And she did. Sort of." "Um." Smiling slightly, Nick glanced over at the bookshelf. "'Sort of' is about Janette's limit." "So I gathered." Natalie opened the bag, removed the tacos from inside, then tipped the bag, dislodging only one or two packets of sauce. She looked up at Nick, pointing down to the sparse condiment packages as she cleared her throat. "Oh, sorry," he said, sitting down on the couch beside her. "I was in a hurry. I dropped some." "Where?" "About two streets over." "That explains why the wine's wind-chilled," she noted, touching the bottle, then handing it to him to open. "You've gotta stop flying everywhere. You've got a car, use it." "I thought that's why they called it 'fast food.'" Nick peeled the sealing wax from the bottle top. "No, that's why they call it a 'drive-through,'" Peeling back the paper from the taco, she held it in her hand for a moment. After deciding it was still warm enough to eat--or she was simply too hungry to care-- Natalie picked up one of the sauce packets and tore it open with her teeth. "Hey, hey, you shouldn't do that," warned Nick, as he struggled with the bottle's cork. "Yeah. I'll remind you of that next time I find a cork with teeth marks in your couch cushions," muttered Natalie, finally managing to tear open the packet. The wine bottle opened with a soft sound. Nick placed the cork on the table with an exaggerated gesture, then looked around. "Wine glasses?" "Are you kidding? It's gonna take me a half hour to find something to spit with when I brush my teeth!" Natalie took the bottle from him and eyed it thoughtfully. "This goes well with Mexican fast food?" "I don't think goes well with Mexican fast food." Nick winced as she tilted back the bottle, then the picture frame caught his attention. He picked it up from the table. Natalie slowly lowered the bottle back to the table as he looked at Richard's graduation picture. "The--uh-- glass broke in the move. I'll get it replaced tomorrow." Reaching over, she took the picture from him. But Nick rose to his feet. She watched him walk to the glass doors that led to the dining room. He was quiet for a few minutes, then turned and looked back at her. "I like this place." "Well, it's not as big as yours," said Natalie, putting Richard's picture face down on the table again. "But it's home." "Home." He echoed the word with a slight smile. "It's more--more ." "What? Boxes and newspaper all over the place? Thanks." Natalie took a bite of her taco. "That's not what I mean." Nick rubbed his neck with his hand, then gestured around the room. "It's got more to it. It's a good place for a fresh start." She chewed thoughtfully on her taco, Janette's words coming back to her. "Is it?" asked Natalie, after swallowing. "In fact I--" Nick patted his blazer, then pulled a small box from his pocket. He held it out to her. "I got you a house-warming gift. Sort of." "Sort of?" Natalie picked up a napkin and wiped off the sauce from her hands, then she reached up to take the box from him. It was taped shut. She cut through the scotch tape with her nail easily enough and opened the box. Inside was a small wooden cross that rested within a circle. It had a loop at the top. "It's a good luck charm," explained Nick, haltingly. "You're supposed to hang it over your window." Natalie looked down at the wooden cross in her hand, then over at the window. "To keep out evil spirits?" "And . . . other things." She swallowed again as she stared down at the cross in her hand, knowing what other things he was referring to. After carefully closing the lid, she smiled. "Thanks. I'll hang it up first thing tomorrow." "Or tonight?" asked Nick. Natalie met his eyes, still somehow holding that smile in place. "Or tonight." "Good." Nick nodded slightly, then tucked his hands in his blazer pockets and glanced at the door. "I'd better get back to the precinct--told the Captain I'd be a little late." Natalie rose to her feet, still holding the box in her hand. "Wait, just a second. I have something for you, too." "For me?" The echo of Nick's voice followed her as she wandered back into the dining room. It took her a minute to find the small envelope, but it was there, at the bottom of her purse. Holding it tightly in her hand, she returned to the living room and held it out to him. "If this is a tip--" Nick took it, his expression frankly curious. Pinching together the two corners of the envelope, he tipped it and the two keys fell into his hand. "For both doors," explained Natalie, as he stared down at the keys. Then, when he looked up at her, she smiled. "I didn't want you to have to break in again." He tossed the keys lightly in his hands for a moment, as if testing the weight and reality of them, then he met her gaze and tucked them into the pocket of his blazer. "Thanks." "You're welcome." For a moment, neither one of them moved. Or really knew what to say. Then Nick glanced toward the door. "I have to get back." "Well, we wouldn't want Schanke straying from the straight and narrow, would we?" She followed him to the door, then opened it for him. Her fingers curled tightly around the box that he'd given her. "Guess I'll see you tomorrow, then." "If I haven't been drowned in cardboard boxes and crumbled up newspaper by then, sure." Nick smiled, hesitating in the doorway. Then he sobered. "Nat . . . I really hope you'll be happy here." "So do I." He leaned forward to kiss her cheek again. "See you." "Yeah," she breathed. "Thanks for the help. Oh, and I'll be happy to recommend your moving service, if you need a reference." Nick grinned and raised his hand slightly in farewell, as he moved off down the hall. She closed the door and leaned against it, then looked down at the box in her hand. Again, Natalie opened it and lifted out the small wooden cross. Picking up the good luck charm between her fingers, she stared at it and sighed. She didn't believe in luck. Then again, until she'd met Nick, she'd never believed in vampires . . . . And as her fingers tightened their hold on the wooden charm, Natalie started her search for a hammer and a nail, wondering what it was, exactly, that she'd just moved into. *************** The End