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Treehugger

By: nicecthulhu



Thank you to catbrown and searchingforperfection for editing this story. Once again, any remaining errors or problems are my responsibility. 

*

The bone-white clouds hung in the sky: moist, cold and seemingly eternal. Alarmed at his turn of thought, Paul rubbed his eyes and forced his imagination elsewhere. The breeze coming off the small lake was too weak for his liking, and the water was too still.

Where were the sounds of animals and the summer wind, he wondered? He should hear the odd fish breaking the surface, or birds chirping, or his distant neighbours splashing about and laughing near their own docks, but everything was silent.

Uncrossing his ankles, he settled back in the deck chair and let his head hang back. Yesterday there'd been rain, and he'd sat in it unmoving until the drops, partially frozen from their overlong stay in the stratosphere, had become too painful to ignore. There was no rain today. There was only this stillness that threatened to bring back the memories that Paul fought to bury.

He sat straight up and opened his eyes. He missed the sky. He missed the way that a summer sky could appear almost indigo directly above and yet fade to a very pale blue as your eyes dropped to the horizon.

Her eyes had been that same pale blue before they'd gone out forever.

Paul grabbed at the book he'd set beside the wooden chair. He took a deep breath and opened the Bible to a random page. There'd been an internal debate about which reading material to bring out onto the dock. His own past favourites, Clive Cussler and Ian Fleming, just couldn't keep his mind from wandering to more emotional matters. The Bible was something that he could concentrate on; he found it so boring that he had to focus on every word just to keep following the stories.

Job.

He slammed the book shut with a grunt. After taking a few seconds to calm down he opened the book again.

Lot!

He slammed the Bible shut a second time, stood, and with a roar of rage hurled the offending tome as far out into the lake as he could. It fluttered briefly at the top of its arc, before flipping and then dropping like a stone. The small splash was completely unsatisfying, but in a way Paul had found the mere act of violence, as minor as it had been, somewhat soothing. He was breathing slowly and deeply as he stared out at the lake, watching the brief-lived ripples expand and diminish.

The metaphor raised a fury in him the likes of which he'd never felt before. The deck chair, despite its mass and bulkiness, followed the bible into the lake.

What prevented the rest of his belongings from being drowned in the lake was the remembrance that all human toil results in so little and lasts for fleeting seconds in the lifetime of the universe. What was the point of anything? He pondered that as he shuffled his way back into his home, the one that Rachel and he had bought after she had confided it was her lifelong dream to have a getaway such as this.

She had only set foot in it once, just before they had bought it. The insurance money had ensured that Paul would never have to work again and could spend the rest of his life tucked away from the world here, in what would have been their home.

He went to the bedroom and stared at the queen-sized bed. He couldn't bring himself to lie down on it. It had taken all of his willpower to just make the bed. Without a thought for dinner Paul went to the chesterfield, where he had slept every night since moving in. 

The sound of men's voices woke him. He glanced at the silent electronic clock and then groaned when he realized it was already past ten in the morning. He rubbed his eyes, to give them time to adjust to the sunlight shining in through the windows.

Paul spent a few minutes in the washroom, enough time to use the toilet, wash his hands, think about having a shower, and think about shaving. Then he shuffled toward the kitchen. With a small sigh he noticed that he hadn't changed into his pyjamas the night before. He shrugged in resignation, then made himself some dry toast and poured a glass of water to wash it down.

The voices continued outside, but Paul ignored them. What was outside was outside his world, and therefore was no concern of his.

After he finished breakfast he rinsed and dried the plate and glass, and then turned to the sliding glass doors to head back to the dock. He stopped as he recalled there was now no chair to sit in and no book to read. This break in his routine jarred him. How long had he been living like this? This was July-something, and hadn't he arrived in early April?

Paul ran his hand across his chin and then quickly pulled his fingers away, surprised at the beard he'd felt. The washroom mirror showed him an unfamiliar face. He picked up his razor, and after staring at it for a long and dangerous minute, he carefully set it down and began to attack his whiskers with a pair of scissors first. Once he was clean-shaven he turned on the shower and set the water to very hot. He took his time stripping and then jumped in all at once, gritting his teeth as the water reddened his skin. He adjusted the water to merely hot and proceeded to clean himself thoroughly. The water began to go cold before he finished.

He threw on his bathrobe, after searching through a couple of cardboard boxes to find it. He felt physically better. Paul walked around the house, making mental notes of all the little jobs that needed doing. Rachel would have already given him a list. That thought made him pause. He squeezed his hands painfully tight and forced the memories away.

There were no more voices outside. Paul poked his head out the front door, but saw only the large, gently undulating yard, the smoothly paved driveway leading to the front of the house, the white wooden fence bordering his property, and the large oak near the road that towered over all of the other trees on his and his neighbours' land. Whatever had gone on was over with, and good riddance to it he thought.

He found his cell phone in his jacket and considered turning it back on. Standing there in thought, it occurred to him that there was no-one he really wanted to talk to. The phone was dropped onto a coffee table. He debated going into town, but dropped the idea, as he had a ready excuse not to make the trip: he hadn't completely emptied the fridge yet.

Sweep the floor, he reminded himself. Like a robot, he grabbed the broom from the small closet off the main hall and began pushing dust around the house. He soon realized that he was only stirring up small clouds of debris and spreading them around. With a determined look he began to concentrate on the task. Room by room he coaxed the dust into the centre of each, where he then used a dustpan to transfer dirt out into his backyard. After he noticed cobwebs floating in the mild breezes that he had stirred up, he collected them for transferral into the backyard as well. 

At last he was finished. The broom was returned to where it had been and, feeling as if he had accomplished something for the first time in a long time, Paul opened the sliding glass doors and went into his backyard. A small group of ducks quacked angrily and flew off. Their wingbeats sounded supernaturally loud. Paul strode down to the lake and listened to the gentle sound of the waves as they played across the pebbles.

Was cleaning the house an insult to Rachel's memory? Was going on with life? How important had she really been to him? The questions ate away at him. Hadn't he promised to love her forever? Hadn't she been everything to him? Why was he still alive now that she was gone?

Voices from the front yard interrupted his reverie. Paul closed his eyes and tried to shut the world out.

He actually succeeded for a few minutes - until someone rang the doorbell.

A few seconds passed where he considered just ignoring the visitor. It wasn't curiosity that made him turn back to his house and go inside, it was annoyance at the intrusion. The doorbell rang again just as he threw open the door.

"What do you want?" he asked angrily.

The two young men who appeared to be employed by the town, adorned in orange and yellow vests over their jeans and t-shirts, and the thirty-something brunette, dressed in slacks and a loose-fitting white top, were all taken aback at his tone.

"Uhm, sir? Sorry to bother you. But your wife here..." began one of the young men. Paul could see some more mature civic workers leaning on a pick-up truck parked at the end of his driveway. Clearly, they'd sent the younger ones to do the dirty work.

"I'm not his wife!" interrupted the woman, wrinkling her nose at the speaker.

"She's not my wife," agreed Paul, in a calmer tone. His hands went to the belt of his bathrobe to make sure it was secure.

"Uhm, sorry sir. Uhm, well your sister here said..."

"I'm not his sister!" declared the woman, crossing her arms.

The other worker spoke up. "What we're trying to explain, sir, is that you have been notified by the town that we're cutting down trees that pose hazards to traffic and pedestrians." The blank look on Paul's face was met with surprised silence. "Uhm, well sir, we're here to cut down that big oak and this woman has refused to allow us to cut it down. Does she live here?" he asked with a suspicious glance at her.

"I'm the only one that lives here."

The first speaker turned back to his older compatriots who still waited by the truck. "She lied to us! We can go ahead and cut it down!"

"Thank you for your help, sir," said the second, offering his hand.

"Now wait just one second here!" The woman knocked the young man's hand away. "You can't just cut down that tree! It belongs here! It's been here longer than any of you! It's perfectly safe and sound, and the biggest danger it poses to anyone is dropping an acorn on someone's head!"

The two young men turned and walked toward the road, clearly ignoring her. One clapped the other on the back. The older, overweight men by the truck pulled out some chainsaws.

"You can't let them kill that tree! That oak is life!" the woman implored Paul.

"Life?"

"Do you know how many animals have used that tree for shelter, or have built their homes in it? Do you have any idea how many have fed on its acorns and leaves? Do you know how much fresh air it generates? There is so much more that it does! That tree is life!" She looked to be on the verge of tears. "You can't just let them cut it down! Please!"

"Life..." Paul muttered. A faraway look came into his eyes. He turned to look at the tree, really look at it. It was enormous and old. It wasn't a pretty tree, with its knots, thickly wrinkled bark, and gnarled and twisted branches. An ice storm a few years earlier had pulled down a large branch on one side and that gave it a slightly lop-sided look. However, it was green and alive, just as this woman said it was. He spied some birds huddled up in its high branches. They took flight as a chainsaw roared.

"Wait." Paul took a step forward. "Wait!"

The two young men turned back to him and their faces fell.

"Stop them! Stop that guy!" shouted Paul. He pointed at one of the workers who was leaning a ladder against the trunk.

"Yes! Stop that man!" echoed the woman.

The workers exchanged looks, except for the one with the chainsaw who'd heard none of the shouting. One of his co-workers nudged him and he turned off the chainsaw and removed his earmuffs.

Paul stormed toward the tree, followed by the woman and the two younger men. As he reached the tree he placed his hand upon it, possessively.

"This is my tree and it's on my property. You don't have permission to come here and cut it down."

"Now you just wait one minute, buster," began the man with the chainsaw, pulling a paper from his pocket. "This poster has been plastered to the tree for the last week and a similar notice was posted at town hall for the last couple of weeks. You've had all that time to argue against cutting down this tree and you've done nothing. Now this tree is a danger to everyone who travels this road and it has to come down before it falls over and kills someone."

"Get the Hell off my property!" demanded Paul. "No-one told me they were going to cut down this tree. You can't just show up and..."

The woman stepped forward. "It sounds as if the resident wasn't properly notified, gentleman. That could get all of you into a lot of trouble if this tree comes down. He'd have a lawsuit against the town and your supervisors would be pretty pissed off. Are you sure you have to cut down this tree right now?"

Everyone went silent for a few seconds. Paul was surprised by the officious way in which the woman had spoken, and the workers were weighing which course of action would cause them less trouble with their bosses. To Paul's relief, the chainsaw was deposited in the back of the pick-up and then the men quietly got back into the cab. They pulled away, making a u-turn to head back down the road toward town with a small cloud of dust following them.

"Thank you for saving my tree!" exclaimed the woman once the truck was out of sight.

Paul turned toward her. "Your tree? Who are you exactly?"

The woman tugged at a strand of mousy brown hair and looked around nervously. "Well...actually...I'm your neighbour from down the road. I've loved this tree for so long - " she pointed high into the branches" - we had a swing tied on there, and you can still see the frayed ends of the ropes."

"Oh. Thank you for helping to stop them, miss." He glanced at her left hand and noticed he didn't need to correct himself. "I'm Paul, Paul Cheevers." He held out his hand, but she merely stared at it curiously until he dropped it back to his side.

"I'm...Veronica." Her eyes darted to where his hand was still flat against the trunk. "You know they'll be back; predators don't give up easily."

"Predators?"

"Can I come by later with some papers? I've been researching how I might save my tree - your tree. I have an idea or two, but I need a...someone else's input. Things are so complicated."

"I'd rather be left alone, Veronica."

"They will be back. The man who put the poster on the tree seemed very determined that it should come down." She looked toward Paul's house, then to the tree, and he could see she was very concerned about the oak.

He considered that if they spent a few hours discussing tactics it could mean the workers never came back. On the other hand, if the workers just cut down the tree they'd likely be done in a few hours and then gone forever. Paul pulled his hand away from the tree. He could hear a squirrel chittering away in the branches. He could smell the tree. It was so alive.

"Okay, why don't you pop by after dinner with those papers? We can discuss what to do then."

"Oh, thank you Paul! You won't regret this! I'm sure we'll be able to stop them and make sure my tree stays safe for many years to come." Her fear seemed to have melted away and she was so encouraged that her face almost glowed.

"Yeah. See you then." Paul turned away and walked back to his house. Before he closed the door behind him he noticed that Veronica was still standing by the tree and watching him, a few strands of her straight brown hair in her mouth. He shrugged and went inside.

There was a strange energy within him. The tree was important. It had to be saved. Paul glanced at the clock and noticed he had a few hours before dinner. He searched through some boxes in the living room, unpacked the computer and then plugged it in and booted it up. He had absolutely no idea where his Blackberry might be.

It was very dark outside the windows and Paul was just finishing some spaghetti when there was a gentle knock on the door. He wiped the tomato sauce from his face, glanced at his shirt to see if it was free of stains and then answered the door.

"Hi. I'm not too early, am I?" Veronica stood there, wearing the same beige slacks and white top that she'd been wearing earlier.

"Actually, I was just finishing dinner. I started it a little later than I should have. I didn't hear your car." Paul looked over her shoulder but couldn't see another vehicle anywhere on the driveway. "You can park it on the driveway. It's certainly long enough to accommodate both our vehicles."

"Car?" She looked around the dark yard. The little light that was shining out through the windows of the house made some areas of the lawn look a little less dark than others. "Oh, I didn't drive here. I walked."

Paul whistled at the idea of someone walking a couple of kilometres along a country road in pitch-black darkness. "Come on in. Do you want anything to eat or drink? I'm just finishing some spaghetti."

She stepped inside, looking around with great curiosity. "Spaghetti? I've never had...oh, wait. I like spaghetti. Oh, but I've already had dinner. Could I have a drink, please?"

"I'm not sure I remember where the liquor's packed away..."

"Oh, I only drink water."

He ushered her in, and then fetched a glass of water once she was seated at the table. She sipped and then set the glass down carefully. She stared at his plate and the small portion of spaghetti remaining.

"I can get you some if you're still hungry," he offered.

"No, that's all right. You go ahead and finish and then we'll get started on the paperwork. I have some things for you in this case." She lifted what looked to be a black laptop bag and set it on the table.

Paul ate somewhat nervously. Veronica stared at him intently, watching every twist of the fork. He tried to ignore the attention.

Once he was finished the meal and had risen to take his plate and flatware away to the kitchen, Veronica opened her bag. There were papers scattered haphazardly across the entire table when he returned. Paul whistled in amazement.

"What was that?" she asked, startled.

"Sorry, I was just whistling at the quantity of reading we have to go through. Are you a lawyer?"

"A lawyer?" She gave him a puzzled look for a second or two. "Oh, yes! I'm a lawyer! I work in Toronto, although I come up here to keep an eye on my family's home. My parents are in a retirement residence." She stared at Paul for another second. "They're old," she added.

"Okay..."

Veronica lifted a paper to within a few centimetres of her face and peered at it. He watched in wonder as she scanned the entire page and then set it back down on the table and picked up another to read.

"Did you forget your glasses?" Paul asked.

"Glasses?"

"When was the last time you had your eyes checked, Veronica?"

She searched the air with her eyes. "Oh, glasses! I left them at home on the nightstand. I should have guessed that I'd need them. All these little things to think of..." She began peering at the paper before her face.

Paul picked up a page at random and read. There was something about constitutional rights and the Supreme Court. He turned to stare at Veronica. She didn't seem crazy, just a little scatter-brained. 

"So, what's your plan of attack to protect the old oak tree?" he asked.

"I don't have one. That's why we're looking through all of this," she waved her hands at the documents. "You haven't changed your mind, have you?"

Paul took a deep breath. "No, I just expected you to walk in with a plan. This," he waved his own hand at the tabletop, "this seems so disorganized."

She frowned and tugged at a few strands of her hair. "I'm not doing this correctly?"

"Well, look at this one." He handed her the paper he had been looking at. "Really? The Supreme Court is going to have something relevant to keeping a tree from being cut down?"

She peered at the paper carefully. "I thought perhaps that the right to life..."

"It doesn't extend to trees, Veronica. Have you never done something like this before?"

She shook her head and frowned.


Treehugger



Paul took a deep breath; he wasn't going to get this matter out of his life any time soon from the looks of things. The forlorn look on Veronica's face made him angry.

"Don't give up! Don't ever give up!" he shouted. Paul clenched his fists and breathed deeply until he calmed. "Sorry. I've had a rough time recently."

"And now you're fighting to save my tree."

"Our tree," he said without thinking. "Look, we have to start small. Maybe this whole thing gets settled by talking to a nice old woman at town hall. She throws out some paperwork and poof, the tree is saved. If that doesn't work we start working our way up."

"So we should go to town hall and talk to someone there?" Veronica seemed more hopeful.

Paul nodded.

She stood, her chair legs scraping along the floor. "Great! Let's go!"

His mouth dropped open as she began to scoop papers back into her satchel. "Veronica, it's after nine on a weeknight. You don't really expect anyone to be at town hall, do you?"

"Well, tomorrow morning then," she replied immediately. "We can walk into town and get this all fixed, and be back by lunchtime."

"Walk? It's got to be at least eight kilometres! We'll just drive. I can pick you up about nine in the morning..." The statement had turned into a question as he spoke. "It's supposed to rain tomorrow."

"It's going to be very warm and sunny," Veronica stated with absolute confidence. "But we can drive in to town if you wish. Should I wear something different?"

"Excuse me?"

"Will this attire be appropriate?"

Did she expect him to take her out to lunch afterwards, he wondered? "Maybe you should just wear what you normally wear to work. That'll look officious, and maybe it'll intimidate the municipal employees. Scared government employees do more work for the public."

She nodded her head and gave him a warm smile. "I'm glad I met you Paul Cheevers. I just know you're going to help save my tree."

She was out the door in a blink of an eye, several seconds before he remembered it was pitch-black under the overcast night sky. He flipped the switch to turn on the porch light and then stepped outside, but the strange brunette was nowhere to be seen.

"Veronica? I can give you a lift home. Veronica?" he called out.

"It's all right," she said from somewhere near the road. "I know exactly where I'm going. And there's nothing out here that's going to hurt me. See you in the morning, Paul."

He listened to the fading sound of her shoes on the gravel shoulder and then went back inside, swatting a few mosquitoes that tried to sneak in as he closed the door. While washing his dishes he found himself shaking his head at her strange behaviour. He'd never met anyone like her. Rachel would have liked her...

Even though she hadn't given him her last name, he had a pretty good idea where she lived. The first two places travelling west were family dwellings, with all the evidence of the presence of children scattered across the yards. The third place was either Veronica's or the house of someone who'd be able to give him her address. As he pulled onto the gravel drive he spied the unusual woman walking amongst some trees, deep in thought.

He pulled up to the large farmhouse, where the drive widened enough for a vehicle to turn about easily. Veronica was wearing a brown vest over a white blouse. Her matching brown slacks fit her rather snugly over her hips and round bottom. Paul blinked his eyes and then gave the horn a quick push.

Veronica looked up and walked casually over to the truck. She stopped in front of the truck and stared at it, tilting her head slightly. He waved her in to the passenger side.

"Sorry if I'm a little late," he apologized as she took a minute to adjust her seat belt.

"Are you late?"

"Well, you seemed to be waiting there for me."

"Oh, I really don't have any idea what time it is." She looked at the dashboard, and then pointed with her finger. "Why it's nine oh five! You're right on time, Paul," she said, as the seatbelt finally clicked. "I'll have to learn to pay more attention to clocks."

On the way into town she amazed Paul with her knowledge of the natural history of the area. He wondered if one of her parents had been a historian, but they pulled into the town hall parking lot before he thought to ask her.

They stepped out of the truck and squinted their eyes in the bright sunshine. "So if law doesn't work out for you I guess you've got a future in meteorology."

She gave him an enigmatic smile in response.

They entered the building, received directions to the public works department and, after turning down a wrong corridor once, found themselves in front of a reception desk. No-one was there to greet them, although they could both hear noises that indicated at least one of the cubicles nearby was inhabited.

"So, what do we do now Paul?" Veronica asked in a normal tone. Paul wished she had spoken more quietly, but didn't know why.

"Hello?" called out a woman's voice. Shortly, a small woman in her mid-fifties approached them. "Can I help you?"

"I want to save my tree," announced Veronica.

"Excuse us, ma'am," began Paul. "There's a tree on my property that some town workers came to cut down. I chased them off, but I'd like to find out why they think they need to cut it down and why they think they have the right to come on to my property without my permission." The older woman looked a little worried. "You can understand this has taken the two of us quite by surprise, and we'd like to get everything sorted out as quickly as possible."

"Ah." The older woman arched an eyebrow. "Maybe you should speak to Francis. Francis Cable is responsible for things like that, and he probably marked this young lady's tree down as a public danger."

"Public danger?" asked Veronica with a rising voice. Paul put his hand on her arm to urge her to stay calm.

The grey-haired woman stared at Paul's hand until he removed it from his companion's arm. Then she motioned for the two to follow her. The cubicles were laid out in two rows, and they were led to the second last and then introduced to a man of about Paul's age who wore jeans and a t-shirt.

"And what can I do for you two?" Francis asked with a friendly smile, as the older woman left.

Paul put his hand on Veronica's arm as she stepped forward. "There's a tree on my property that's mistakenly been chosen to be cut down..."

"Ah, yes. I was told you might be in. Oh, there's no mistake sir. That tree is very old and a great danger to vehicles and pedestrians. It could fall over at any time." He sat forward and seemed very earnest.

Veronica stepped in front of Paul. "There's nothing wrong with that tree! It could stand for another hundred years if you just left it alone!"

Paul reached out and took Veronica's hand, which calmed her but did not alter her stare.

"Now, look here ma'am. I have to look out for potential dangers to vehicles and pedestrians all over this region. That tree might not fall for six months, but when it does it's large enough to kill someone. All you have to do is plant a new one." The man stood, looming over both Veronica and Paul.

"You can't just cut it down and replace it! We need that oak! Just undue the order to cut it down!"

"Now you look here, ma'am! I work damn hard at this job and I know what I'm doing!" His smile had disappeared. "And I don't appreciate busybodies trying to tell me my job. That tree was diseased and damaged. Now if you don't want me to cut down every God damned tree on your property you'd better hit the road right now."

Paul could feel his back tightening. He began to pull his companion back so he could step up to the rude civic worker when he spied people in neighbouring cubicles peering over the dividers.

"We'd best leave, Veronica." She shot him a defiant look. He tightened his grip on her hand. "There's nothing that can be done here," he said pointedly.

Her eyes narrowed and then opened wide. She squeezed his hand in hers and the two turned and left. As they walked by the reception desk the older woman shook her head sadly.

Once they were outside the building Veronica turned on him. "Why did you give up so easily?"

"Are you serious?" Paul rolled his eyes. "He was digging in, and we were past the point where sweet-talk was going to save that oak. Another few minutes in there and the police would have come in to take us away to the hoosegow!"

Her shoulders slowly rose and fell as she took a deep breath and then released it. "You're right, Paul. I should have seen that. But what can we do now?"

"I don't know. Let's talk about it over brunch."

She nodded in acceptance of his suggestion, and they walked to a nearby strip mall. Finding a cozy restaurant, they entered, found an empty table, ordered, and began eating. Once conversation did begin they avoided the main issue. Veronica was befuddled at the idea of someone being incompetent and ignorant but pretending to be otherwise. Paul remembered having encountered such people before; they were always the most defensive about the areas they were the least confident in.

They each had a coffee and a cookie for dessert, while Paul tried to pry more personal information from Veronica. She seemed so knowledgeable about some things, but so ignorant about simple everyday things. The history of the area was an open book to her, but she knew nothing of the people and families who lived near town.

After they finished their meal the waitress began to frequent their table. Paul asked for the bill, and once it was brought he pulled out his wallet and dropped his credit card on top of it. Veronica followed the motion with her eyes. Then she reached into a pocket and pulled out her own credit card and placed it atop his.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you mean, Paul?"

"Lunch is on me." He picked up her card and offered it back to her.

She gave him a confused look but tucked the card back into her vest pocket. She sipped her coffee as the waitress left with Paul's credit card and then quickly returned. Paul accepted his card when the young lady offered it back to him. Veronica watched with a raised eyebrow.

"So, are you ready to go?"

She nodded in response. "But I don't know what our next step is. You said we could work our way up. Who's next?"

"Maybe a town or regional councillor," he replied as they walked back to his truck. "I'll have to look into this. Could you do some research on this as well? Your expertise as a lawyer may give you some insight into who we should meet with." He hesitated, allowing both of them enough time to get seated in the truck. "I also thought since you grew up here that you might have some connections you could use."

"Oh, I don't have any connections except you, Paul. You're the only one I really know."

Paul blinked his eyes and pulled out on to the street. "Sorry, I thought you said you're living in your family home - you know, where you grew up?"

"Oh, I am," she responded slowly, as if suddenly remembering. "I do know quite a few people, but none of them are connected with the oak tree. I'm afraid it's just the two of us, Paul."

They agreed to do what research they could on their own and then meet at Veronica's after dinner. Believing she regularly ate late, Paul didn't arrive until about nine.

Veronica opened the door before he could raise his hand to knock. She wore slacks that ended just below her knees, and a loose and sleeveless blouse with a flower print. Her feet were bare.

"Come in!" She turned away, walked from the entryway into a larger room and then disappeared from his view. "I've had some wonderful luck with my research, Paul," she called out from behind a wall.

Paul kicked off his shoes and peered after her. Her front door had opened into a small two-walled 'closet', which led into a cozy living room filled with an assortment of furnishings and keepsakes. It looked as if Veronica's parents had been almost-hoarders, there was even an old television, complete with a rabbit ears antenna, sitting unused in the corner.

"Uhm, nice place." His eyes went over the room, searching for clues as to why she behaved so unusually. There was a doorway on the wall to his left that looked to lead into a small dining room. Veronica sat upon an old couch and there was a laptop on the coffee table in front of her. Both the couch and the table had white coverings that were yellowing with age. Much of the furniture here was protected by cloth coverings of various types. It reminded him of visiting his grandparent's house when he was very young.

Veronica looked about the room, as if she had never really looked at it before. "It is nice, isn't it? It feels - homey. Strange that it should feel that way..."

"Why is that so strange? You grew up here."

"Well, yes I did." She hesitated, running her hand over the arm of the couch thoughtfully. "I was kissed on this couch, so many years ago. And that cabinet..." she stood and walked over to a glass-walled cabinet that was recessed into a wall. "This cabinet...my father built it for me - for my dolls." She opened the glass and reached in to caress the cheek of a doll that was slouching in its stand. "I thought dolls would be soft...oh, wait! This doll's porcelain. Some of the others were soft..."

Paul didn't know what to say.

Suddenly Veronica withdrew her hand. "But we have work to do. I must save my tree, and I don't have any time to examine these memories." She closed the glass doors, stared at the dolls for a few seconds and then went back and sat down in front of her laptop.

Paul looked around for a seat. There were a couple of chairs but they were occupied by storage boxes. He turned to his hostess, and she nodded for him to sit on the couch beside her.

"So," she began as he sat and set his papers on the coffee table, "I've drawn up a list of people in power in this region, based upon their ranking in the political hierarchy. What do you think?"

Paul surveyed the list. "It's very complete. I don't think you needed to put the Prime Minister on it."

"But he represents the highest authority here!"

"Well, our head of state is the Governor General. But I don't think that either he or the Prime Minister is going to get involved with saving a tree."

"Oh!" Her face fell, then she brightened up again. "You mean they're too busy to represent a tree - they probably spend time protecting forests and leave their subordinates to deal with individual cases."

Paul gave her a long look.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Look, let's just take a number of names off this list. Who's that under the Prime Minister?"

Veronica picked up a pair of glasses and carefully slid them on, using both hands to do so. "The Environment Minister."

Paul sighed. "I honestly don't think any of them are going to give two hoots about a tree. Here," he pointed at the screen, "remove all the names above this person. He's our town councillor."

"But that only leaves us with four people," she pouted.

Paul put his hand on her arm. "I wish it could be otherwise, but provincial and federal politicians just aren't going to do anything about a single tree. Unless you know one of them personally, that is..."

She stared at him and seemed to think for several seconds. "Nope, I've never met any of them." She deleted most of the names from the list. "So, I guess our next step is Melinda Bright."

"And who in the world is Melinda Bright?"

"She's Francis Cable's supervisor. Then there's Sudista Singh; she's Francis Cable's manager. Then there's the Director of Public Works, and finally the town councillor."

"Well, you can scratch Director Stewart Cable's name off the list. Perhaps it's best if we go straight to the town councillor. He's an elected official and might be more amenable to what we want."

"Why don't we go through them one by one?" she asked with genuine ignorance.

"I suspect the Cables are related, in fact one probably has his job because of the other. They'll likely stick together and prevent the supervisor and manager from helping us, assuming that either Melinda or Sudista would want to. Henry Pike is either the type of politician who knows the game, in which case we can threaten him with negative publicity, or he's an honest man trying to serve the public, in which case we can appeal to his better nature."

Veronica clasped one of Paul's hands in both of hers. "Do you think he'll help us save the oak tree?"

"We can hope. But don't think this is a sure thing. We're just two taxpayers trying to defend our rights against the local government. The Americans have a saying: you can't fight city hall. Well, there's a lot of truth to that."

"We'll go down to town hall together, the first thing in the morning, and talk to him!"

"Whoa! Tomorrow's Saturday, so I doubt he'll be there. I'm sure there's some way to reach him on a weekend. He must have a business or something where we can ask about him." Paul picked up his papers and showed them to Veronica. "I happened to find his home address and the law firm that he owns in town. We can go to his office tomorrow morning. Do we need an appointment to go to a lawyer's office, or can we just show up?"

Veronica stared at him and tilted her head. After a couple of seconds, "He should be willing to see me without an appointment if I show his secretary my credentials. I can't imagine he'd be very busy in a small town."

Paul sat back. "That's settled then. I can pick you up at nine thirty, if that's okay with you." He sat forward, on the edge of the couch. "I guess I'll be going, now that we have a plan for tomorrow."

Veronica held his hand in hers. "Wait, just a second please." She had a faraway look in her eyes, and then suddenly became focussed once again. "We should have a toast - to a successful partnership."

She jumped up from the couch and walked into the kitchen, her pants hugging her behind tightly. He followed her with his eyes and swallowed. Her blouse had two strings on the back, but they were undone, leaving half her back open to his view.

"Maybe I should be going, Veronica." Feeling a little out of place, he stood and began to search his pockets for his keys.

She returned quickly with a bottle of wine in one hand and two wine glasses in the other. "But we were going to toast to our success!" 

"I..." He sat back down. Veronica smiled happily.

She set the bottle down and pulled a corkscrew out of her back pocket. "Do you have any idea how to work one of these? I seem to remember it being rather difficult."

He held out his hand for the tool, then managed to not embarrass himself as he removed the cork from the bottle. He poured out a quarter glass for each of them and then waited for a comment from Veronica. No comment was forthcoming.

They tapped glasses gently and then sipped. Paul was surprised; the wine seemed to be a very ordinary white. Veronica licked her lips and opened her eyes in surprise.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No. Well, it doesn't taste as good as some of the other things I've been trying, but it does have an odd sort of aftertaste and I feel a warm feeling building inside me here." She pointed directly between her breasts, pushing in her shirt and causing her chest to be better displayed to Paul's unintentional glance. "Is that normal?"

"You're a teetotaler? Why do you have wine here if you don't drink alcohol?"

"Oh, that's alcohol...oh, yes! I do drink alcohol. Is it fermented grapes?"

"Uhm, yeah. Maybe. Look, are you all right?" He decided to bite the bullet. "Sometimes you act a little - different."

"Oh." Her face fell. She set her glass down and turned slightly away from him. "I'm glad you told me. I've been trying so hard to do everything correctly, but it's all just so complicated. I don't know if I can explain it to you, Paul."




Treehugger



He set his own glass down. "I think I understand." She turned enough so that she could see him, but not enough to actually face him. "It's been a big change for you, hasn't it?" She gave a small nod. He looked around the room, at all the things collected by her parents and then left behind when they required a more easily manageable residence such as an old-age home. "It wasn't what you expected. You've found it hard to focus. Sometimes the world makes sense and sometimes it doesn't."

"You do understand!" She faced him and shuffled closer to him on the couch. "Oh, Paul. I was so worried you wouldn't understand; that you'd be angry with me. It's such a relief that you know and you accept it. I was very surprised to find that I'd need a friend, and you've been there nearly from the start, helping me."

Veronica lunged forward and kissed him on the lips. Then she pulled back, her eyes closed and she licked her lips. 

Paul's heart beat rapidly. She was right in front of him, perched as if to fall onto his chest. His hands grabbed her arms of their own accord and he pulled her to him and kissed her. He could feel a longing within him that he hadn't felt for some time. Veronica ran her hands over his arms and chest as the kiss became more forceful and urgent. For both of them the world seemed to narrow down to this room, and this old couch.

Paul leaned forward, pushing Veronica until she lay on her back and he was on top of her. She hummed her approval. Their lips separated for the briefest of moments as they turned their heads. Then their mouths met again, as his arms pushed underneath her and her legs opened, offering a more intimate embrace. He could feel her warmth underneath him, her warmth and her acceptance. They had gone past the point where there was any doubt as to what they both wanted.

He tasted the mint of her toothpaste, along with the fragrance of the wine. She revelled in the contact, and the small shocks that shot through her body at his touch.

"Oh, Rachel, I've missed you so much..."

And then he pushed himself off of her, even as she still clung to him.

"I'm sorry. I'm not ready for this. I don't know if I'll ever be ready for this. I'm really sorry, Veronica." He disengaged himself from her grip, stood with his back to her and let his shoulders slump. "I'll be by at nine-thirty tomorrow, to pick you up."

Veronica, unsure of what exactly had just happened, watched him walk out of her house. She lifted herself off the couch, ran her fingers over her lips, breasts, hips and then between her legs. She ran to the door.

Paul was just climbing into his truck. He glanced at Veronica, as she stood in the doorway staring at him with her mouth slightly open.

"I - I really liked the kissing, Paul!" she called out.

He couldn't help but smile as he closed the truck door, started the engine and drove away.

Veronica caressed her lips with a fingertip, then went back inside to think.

At nine twenty-five Paul was locking up his front door when he heard Veronica call to him. He turned about in surprise, dropping his keys. She stood with her back against the oak tree, her arms crossed and a friendly smile upon her lips. He waved to her, and recovered his keys from the stoop. In the time it took him to slip the key into the lock, set the deadbolt and walk to his truck she had managed to get to the truck and slip up onto the passenger seat.

"Why do you lock the door of your home but not the one on your truck?" she asked as he started up the vehicle.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I guess growing up in Toronto I lock the door by habit, but I know it's silly to think of a car-thief out here so I leave my truck unlocked."

He pulled the vehicle out of the driveway and onto the road that passed his front gate. "I, ah...I wanted to apologize for last night, Veronica," he said quietly without a glance at her.

They drove on in silence for some time. Paul silently promising that he would not allow himself and Veronica to get in a compromising situation ever again.

Eventually they reached town and after a brief search for a particular street he pulled into a small lot and parked. The buildings looked surprisingly new and flashy for so small a town, but then as the residents of Toronto had spread across southern Ontario a wave of development had washed over the towns and villages before them. Builders wanted to attract those immigrants from the city, and they threw away small town charm in exchange for what they thought would attract the urbanites.

Veronica put her hand upon Paul's bare forearm. "There's no need to apologize, Paul. I can see the great pit inside of you; I knew it was there and I have no regrets."

She stepped out of the truck as Paul tried to figure out what she was talking about. There was something there, he knew, some germ, some seed of something that he knew he'd eventually figure out. For now he'd have to remain mystified by her.

Paul pointed out the law office and they pushed their way in through the unlocked door. A quaint bell signalled their arrival to whoever was inside. There was a second door, much heavier than the first but also unlocked. Passing through that, their eyes adjusted to the difference in lighting from the bright sunshine outside. A young woman sat at a desk. Perhaps a high school student at her part-time job, thought Paul.

"Hi! Can I help you folks?" From her tone it was clear that the teenage girl thought the couple were lost and seeking directions.

"Actually," said Veronica stepping forward, "we'd like to talk with Mister Henry Pike if he's available." She handed the dumbfounded girl a card.

Paul smiled at the receptionist nervously.

The teenager examined the card carefully, even turning it over to look at the back. "Mister Pike is here." She stared at the two of them, clearly struggling to remember what she was to say to people here for business. "Uhm, does he know you're supposed to be here? Did you have an appointment?"

"I'm afraid not, miss." Paul tried to smile reassuringly. "This legal matter came up very quickly yesterday and we were hoping to see if your boss could be of some help to us. We shouldn't take up too much of his time. Could you let him know we're here?" he suggested.

She took the card with her as she left the room.

"I have a good feeling about this, Paul. She seems very open and friendly."

"No telling what her employer is like..."

The girl's quick return interrupted him. She held the door open for them and then closed it behind them once they entered the lawyer's modest office.

A short and slightly overweight man in a collared shirt and slacks was rising from his desk as they entered. He flashed a smile and looked from one to the other uncertainly. He adjusted his tie, tightening it slightly. Paul had expected the man to either be balding and sweaty, or dressed in a very expensive suit, but he was surprised to find that neither was true.

"Welcome. Have a seat. So nice to meet a colleague, Miss Price." The man's manner was abrupt, suggesting to Paul and Veronica that he did not like surprises.

Veronica seemed to slip into full legal mode. "Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, Mister Pike. I understand your time is very valuable." The two lawyers shook hands very formally. To Paul's eyes Veronica's stance seemed uncharacteristic. "May I introduce Mister Paul Cheevers?" 

"Mister Cheevers." The older gentleman shook Paul's hand, and then motioned for his two guests to take their seats. Paul noticed the lawyer's eyes glance at their hands, possibly looking for briefcases, and then the man seemed to relax a little.

"So, Miss Price, are you part of the Price family that lived just outside of town, just off highway thirty-nine?" Pike asked as he sat, pulling his chair close to the desk.

Veronica's eyes glazed over momentarily, causing Pike to send a concerned glance toward Paul. "Why, yes. Mom and Dad moved into a retirement community in Newmarket not too long ago. Did you know them?"

"No, only by name. Your folks and I went to the same local schools, but they were a few years ahead of me. But I don't recognize you, Mister Cheevers. Are you a recent arrival to our fine town?"

Paul sat up straight as if he were a school-boy being addressed by his teacher. Lawyers and cops always made him feel a little nervous. "Yes, sir. That's correct."

"He bought the old Laurier place. Did you know them, Mister Pike?" interrupted Veronica.

"By name only. I seem to remember that being a nice little property with some pleasant shade trees that kids were always climbing, and I think it sits right at the lakeside."

"That's the place," stated Paul.

"So what can I do for you two?"

Paul and Veronica exchanged looks, and her confidence seemed to disappear.

"Well, sir," began Paul. "I have a problem and Veronica - Miss Price - has been helping me with it, but we've hit a roadblock and are both hoping that you can fix it. You see," Paul took a deep breath, "there's an enormous oak tree sitting at the front end of my property that the town wants to cut down. It seems there's some ordinance or by-law that gives town staff the right to label trees as hazards to pedestrians and vehicles so that they are then cut down. I don't want it cut down."

Pike steepled his fingers in front of his face and sat back. "There's a municipal expert on the condition of the trees, and he makes the decisions about which ones have to come down. If he's noted the condition of the tree as being dangerous then the town is well within its rights to bring it down. If we didn't we could be open to a lawsuit. The fact that it is on your property is unfortunate, but I'm sure you don't want to put anyone at risk. My understanding is that this safety blitz has been going on for a few years now."

"That tree is perfectly safe."

Both men turned to Veronica. Pike motioned for her to continue.

"My tree is safe and sound, and in no danger of collapsing or falling onto a vehicle or person. Whoever made that assessment didn't know what they were talking about."

Paul put his hand on her sleeve.

"I'm sorry, but I thought I understood that the tree was on your property Mister Cheevers."

"It is. Uhm, Veronica's rather possessive of it. You mentioned kids playing in it and she was one of those kids."

"Ah! Well I don't see what I can do in this case. The municipal expert has assessed the tree, and determined that it's dangerous. The town intends on cutting it down. As a councilman I can't pry into the business of individual government workers; they do the bidding of the regional and town councils. And as a lawyer I can't open a suit against the town council on your behalf as I'd be in a conflict of interest."

"You can't direct a regional or town employee to leave the tree alone?" asked Paul.

"I'm afraid not. Giving elected officials that kind of power over individual government workers would be dangerous. As a member of council I could introduce something in a council meeting to temporarily prevent the destruction of the tree, but I'm sure it would just be a temporary injunction."

"So there's nothing you can do to help us?" Paul glanced at Veronica as he asked the question. She was staring intently at the lawyer.

"Well, I can give you the name of another lawyer who could launch the suit on your behalf. I'm assuming Miss Price cannot for some undisclosed reason. However, such legal proceedings would be too late; the tree would likely be cut down before a Justice of the Peace would see you or instruct the town to leave it alone." The older man shrugged unhappily. "I'd like to help you, but I'm afraid you've just waited too long before acting."

Paul could feel a blind fury rising within him. Suddenly, Veronica's hand was upon his again. The contact stabilized his emotions, gave him an anchor against a cruelly ironic and uncaring universe.

"Is there nothing that you can do or suggest?" she asked. Paul looked up at Pike and saw the man moved by the desperation in her voice.

"I would really like to help you, but this is all pretty much cut and dried. The expert assessed the tree. It's been identified as a danger. It's going to be cut down. I'm sorry."

The three of them sat in silence for a few seconds.

"Look, I don't want to be rude but I do have other work to attend to. Being both a lawyer and a councilman takes a lot of my time, and if I have to stay later here then I miss out on family activities..."

Paul stood and offered his hand. "No, we won't bother you any longer. I want to thank you for being honest with us, and I really do believe that you'd like to help us."

Pike also stood and grasped Paul's hand in both of his. "Mister Cheevers and Miss Price, I wish the both of you the best of luck in this endeavour. I don't expect it to turn out as you want, but I do hope it somehow does."

He shook Veronica's hand as well, and then the two left. The girl at the front desk stared at them full of curiosity, but said nothing except, "Good afternoon."

"Well that was fruitless," stated Veronica, and then she gave an odd chuckle.

"Maybe not." She waited for him to elaborate, but whatever idea had sparked within him had failed to fully bloom. "There's something..."

"Let's have lunch, Paul."

He blinked at her. "Just like that. Jesus, Veronica, you switch gears so fast it's frightening."

"You have to eat."

"We have to eat," he corrected. She just shrugged.

They went to the Swiss Chalet on the main highway, a short distance out of town. While waiting for their order, Paul struggled over everything that Pike had said to the two of them. There was something in what they'd been told in the lawyer's office that provided a possible way out of their predicament, he just knew it somehow. Veronica stared at him, as if she could see into the depths of his soul.

It wasn't until halfway through their lunch that they began talking to each other.

"So, no clues as to what's lurking in the back of your mind?" she asked, while examining a french fry as if she'd never seen one before.

"Not yet. What was that thing you said earlier about there being a great pit inside of me?"

"I can see it. I haven't figured out exactly how to describe what I see, but it's there. In fact, when I look around this restaurant at each of you I see the same thing. Some sit at the bottom of pits far smaller than yours, and some have managed to dig tunnels to the pits of others so they can share what time they have, but yours is the deepest I've seen."

"Pits?" he asked while chewing a mouthful of chicken. "What on Earth are you talking about?"

Veronica dipped a piece of chicken into the sauce and watched as droplets slowly fell from it. "It is hard to describe." She frowned. "Maybe I can describe it best by stating what it is not." She put the piece of chicken into her mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. Paul reached across the table with a paper napkin and wiped her chin, where some of the brown sauce had dripped.

"I was listening to some music at the house. There was a CD by someone named Pink Floyd..."

"And by the way which one's Pink?" Paul interrupted with a chuckle.

Veronica gave him a confused look.

"It's not a someone. It's a band."

"Oh. Well, they have this album about a person building a wall, a barrier, around himself as protection from emotional pain." She picked up another french fry and looked at the tiny, burnt thing doubtfully. "You don't build walls, you dig pits. The deeper your hurt, the deeper the pit. It's a survival mechanism. It seems to be impossible for one of you to slip from your own pit into someone else's." She pointed at a young couple leaning toward each other at a nearby table. "The only solution I've seen is like them, where two people dig a tunnel that joins their pits."

"We're all in pits?"

"Of your own making. It's sad, but it is beautiful in its own way. Children's pits seem to be much shallower than those of adults, but you all start digging them as children."

"We make our own Hell," he said, putting his knife and fork down carefully. "That all sounds very depressing."

Veronica shrugged. "I wish it were otherwise, Paul, but that is what I see."

"Have you ever seen someone who wasn't in a pit?"

She cast her eyes down to the table. "Not for a long, long time, Paul. I suppose that's helped dig my own pit."

"I have a pit for a reason, Veronica. And after last night I think you deserve to hear the full story." He looked at her. She continued to eat, but it was clear that she was ready to listen to everything he said. He took a deep breath.

"It was cancer that took Rachel." Paul ran a hand through his hair and chuckled. "You know, I always used to wonder why people talked about someone being taken away. Now I know," he added in a quiet voice. Veronica folded her hands on the table and stared at him intently.

"We didn't suspect anything in the beginning. She just went for a routine exam and something dubious popped up. The gynecologist wanted to send her for more testing. She told us it was probably nothing, but it was a good idea to get it checked out." He licked his lips, looked away, and then forced his eyes back to Veronica's face.

"A few weeks later Rachel had her next test at a hospital. It came back with a positive. I could see the fear in her eyes, and I'm sure I looked just as scared to her. The doctor and nurses assured us that there were a lot of false positives with this test, and that there was probably nothing wrong. But we could somehow feel the unspoken truth that some of those positives were real positives, and that began to scare us a little."

"A few more weeks went by and we're at a specialist's office. We're looking at the other patients and they all look pretty rough. Rachel still felt fine, so we whispered about how we'd go out and celebrate when this test told us that the others had all been wrong." Paul glanced at his empty plate, then grabbed a french fry off his companion's plate and slowly ate it.

"A couple of days later we're called back in and given the bad news. The specialist was very optimistic about treatment. There were a number of things we could try, and two had success rates of almost one hundred per cent when the cancer was caught early. We started on the radiotherapy first. They target the tumour, or whatever it is, and zap away. There are repeated treatments for a short while. It didn't work. Rachel went on chemotherapy. That took its toll on her. She lost her hair and by the end of it she looked so frail." Paul leaned forward and began to talk more quietly.

"That didn't work. So they recommended surgery. Rachel and I were getting desperate. She hadn't fully recovered from the earlier treatments for some reason the doctors didn't understand. They went in and scooped out a bunch of her insides. Two months later she was still in that hospital bed and looking like an old woman. None of them had any idea why the cancer was still killing her. They suggested a bunch of experimental therapies. They looked to me for permission because she was getting a little incoherent." Paul took a long drink of water. Then he rubbed his eyes.

"Do you know what it's like to have to make a decision about whether someone else lives or dies?"

She opened her lips and then hesitated for a second before answering. "No, Paul. Not really."

"Do you know what it's like to want to be with someone - to never want to lose them, and then to look into their eyes and see that they want you to let them go? Rachel was tired. Tired of the treatments. Tired of the nausea. Tired of throwing up. Tired of being too sick to get out of bed, and tired of steadily getting worse. We had a very emotional talk once they finally left us alone."

"So you feel like you gave up?"

"What? No, I didn't give up. Rachel gave up." He ran his hands over his face. "I was afraid to give up. I was so willing to let her keep on suffering as long as I still had her."




Treehugger



"That doesn't sound like you." Veronica ignored his abrupt and sarcastic laugh. "No, it really doesn't Paul. You fall in love, the two of you are building a life together, and then something comes and rips her away from you. You're a fighter, Paul. So was she. But for every fighter there eventually comes the fight they cannot possibly win. You have to know when to give up. Death is the battle that no-one wins; perhaps that allows us to move on to something else when we finally face the reality of life. Everything dies at some point, Paul."

Veronica reached out with one of her hands and rested it upon one of Paul's. He gave her a thankful smile.

"It does feel good to actually tell this to someone. That's another thing we humans can't face: telling people our deepest thoughts and fears."

She returned his smile and patted his hand. "I'm glad you felt you could tell me. Your pit doesn't seem quite as deep anymore."

He could feel that somehow. He didn't quite believe the metaphysics of people digging themselves into pits, but this unburdening gave him a feeling of a crushing weight having been lifted off his soul. He didn't feel physically lighter; the world just seemed to be less of a terrible place and somehow his bond with Rachel was stronger.

As Paul took a deep breath in, almost joyful with this renewed sense of inner peace, his eyes caught Veronica's expression changing. He realized she was remembering the tree.

"Everything dies," he whispered without thinking. Her eyes went to his face, and there were tears welling up in them.

All this talk of what he and Rachel had gone through had helped him, but it hadn't helped Veronica one bit. There was still something at the edge of consciousness that teased him. Then, it came to him.

"Tree doctor!"

"What?"

He held up a hand to forestall her interruption. Concentrating, he went over what Pike had told the two of them. There was something about an injunction, and a tree doctor.

"I got it!" Paul jumped up from his seat, startling those nearby and colliding with the table. Sitting back down, he told Veronica his idea while he rubbed his sore thigh.

"We ask Pike to put a temporary stop on tearing down your tree - our tree. Then, we get some tree surgeons to come and look at it and certify that it's perfectly safe. What are tree surgeons called?"

Veronica raised an eyebrow and sat forward. "Arbor...something or other. It's not important. Do you really think this could work?"

"It's better than nothing."

The young waitress came by briefly, and interrupted their conversation and then left to return with the bill later.

"Everything dies," Veronica reminded him.

"I'll fight for this tree as long as you're willing to fight beside me," he said as if it were fact.

Later that afternoon they were back at Paul's home, searching the internet for local arborists. At a promise of double pay, three had agreed to come by the end of the workweek, and Veronica and Paul wished to overwhelm town council with certifications on the oak tree's soundness.

"Pike was very helpful, very eager to be helpful," Paul said thoughtfully. "It's almost as if this is something he wants to happen."

"He may just be a helpful person..." Veronica's eyes seemed to glaze over a little. "Uhm, right. He's a politician. Well, so what. We get what we want and he gets what he wants."

"That a girl!"

They went back to staring at the computer screen. The remaining tree specialists they could find were not local. After another hour they gave up.

Paul stretched. "Can I fix you dinner?"

"Oh, I'm afraid I really have to..."

"I was going to make french toast. It's a special recipe I picked up at a place in Nova Scotia, with cream cheese and warmed wild blueberry jam."

Veronica folded her arms across her chest. "I'm sorry, Paul. I really have to be alone for a while. I have to sort myself out. Things are getting a little confusing."

"Ah. I see." Give her space, he told himself. "Just give me a call when you're ready. I can make the french toast for you any time."

"Maybe tomorrow - for dinner?" she asked hopefully.

"Now that I think about it, that would give me time to find out if I actually have all the ingredients and go shopping for any I need. Tomorrow would be better. Let me get my keys and I'll give you a lift to your place." He reached for the hook on which his keys hung.

"That's okay. I'm going to walk. Thank you for everything, Paul."

She went to the front door, slipped on her shoes, gave him a small wave and a smile, and then left. Paul waited a few seconds and then went to a window so he could watch her walk to the road, but he kept behind the curtains so he would not be seen by her if she glanced back at his house.

Veronica hesitated at the oak tree. She glanced up into the partly cloudy sky, then back at Paul's house. Then she walked right up to the tree. Placing both palms flat against it, she closed her eyes. Paul watched her as she stood there for perhaps five full minutes, then she shivered, blinked and walked away.

The next day Paul found that he did indeed lack some of the ingredients, but he was able to eventually find them. Much of the shopping in town was closed due to it being Sunday. A quick stop at a local gas station provided him with directions to a farmer's market in another town just an hour's drive away, and a short distance off the main highway.

After he returned home he put the groceries away. Suddenly recollecting Veronica's strange behaviour he decided to take a close look at the tree for himself. He did trust her instincts, but Paul wanted the reassurance of seeing the condition of the tree for himself.

He walked around the large trunk that was knotted and wrinkled with age. The branches seemed strong and the thinner limbs swayed in the breeze. Above, clouds were blowing across the sky. A squirrel chittered away angrily, possibly trying to warn this curious human away.

He placed his palm against the bark. He felt nothing unusual. It was a tree, an old oak tree. It seemed solid enough. He rapped it with his knuckle. The lowest branches that would support his weight were beyond his reach, and he would have felt foolish finding a ladder to climb the tree, so he decided that there was nothing more he could examine.

Paul turned back to the house. "Son of a..." He realized for the first time that the grass was almost a meter high in places. He wondered how best to go about cutting it. The mower would simply jam up, he knew. Maybe it was best to let it grow wild this summer and then deal with it next spring, he thought. None of his neighbours had complained about his lawn, so he decided to leave it for now.

Looking at the house he could see small jobs queuing up in front of him. He had to make the place look presentable to Veronica! That work kept him busy until almost nightfall, aside from the hurried jam sandwich he gulped down at lunch.

Later, a glance at his watch had him peering down the road looking for his dinner guest but she was nowhere to be seen. Paul hurried into the house and began to straighten up the interior. He expected to hear her knock at any second, but he did manage to get the place fairly clean and organized.

"Maybe I've got time for a shower..." A knock at the door startled him as he was on his way to the washroom.

Paul darted for the door, then stopped and collected himself. He calmly walked the rest of the way to the door and then opened it. Veronica nearly took his breath away. She wore a white, sleeveless dress that was covered in multi-coloured prints of various types of flowers. Her knees and lower legs were bare. The running shoes upon her bare feet seemed incongruous, but he knew she'd be kicking them off as soon as she was invited inside. The lack of a purse caught his attention, but he couldn't remember having ever seen her with a purse.

"You look lovely."

"Really?" Veronica seemed taken aback by the compliment. "I wasn't sure what to wear, but..." She crinkled her nose.

"Ah, yes. I've been doing a bit of cleaning, and building up a bit of a sweat I'm afraid. I was just going to have a shower," the words 'will you join me' crossed his mind, "if you don't mind."

"No, go ahead. We can talk while you're in the shower." Then her cheeks pinkened.

Paul seemed a little embarrassed himself. He shrugged and headed for the washroom. He heard the sound of her shoes dropping to the floor, one after the other, and then he could hear her bare feet upon the hardwood floor as she followed him.

He gave her a small smile and then closed the door to the washroom. She patiently waited outside while he stripped down and adjusted the temperature setting on the taps.

"Help yourself to a book, or turn on some music if you like," he suggested.

"That's all right. I'd rather talk with you."

He stepped in to the porcelain tub, made sure the curtain was blocking the water from splashing on the floor, and then began to lather up.

"I'll just be a few minutes," he called out to her.

"No problem," came her voice, from within the washroom. "I came in so we could talk more easily."

"Okay." Reality began to take on a dream-like state, with him naked in the shower and an attractive woman standing just two metres away. His heart beat a little more quickly and there was a stirring between his legs that he had not experienced since Rachel had first sickened.

"I know this is going to sound very strange, but I'm not really Veronica Price."

"Oh?" he nearly swallowed some water as he rinsed off his face. Exactly how unusual was this woman? He searched his memories of her for any indication of dangerous behaviour.

"I mean I am Veronica Price, but I'm also not. You see, when that man came to choose trees to be cut down he talked to himself. He stood by my tree for some time, muttering and railing against everyone who ever crossed his path. I listened from within, and it took some time but I eventually understood."

"What do you mean from within?" he asked, and then he decided to remind her of who she was just in case, "Veronica?" Despite the possible danger, from what could be a deranged woman, his erection was almost completely perpendicular to his body. Fighting a light-headed feeling, he continued to rinse himself off slowly and carefully.

"Part of me was within the tree, a tree spirit." There was a pause where Veronica stopped talking, as if to allow him to absorb what she had just said, and Paul stood still, trying to find some rationale for why she was saying these things.

"I suppose you've heard other names to describe us, but that's not important. What is important was that I had to do something to save my tree. But I didn't know what I could do. And then a woman stopped her car by the tree one day. She read the notice and rested her hand against the bark, staring up at the oak thinking of all the childhood memories that were connected to the old oak. She understood that a tree is a storehouse of knowledge and memories."

"Rings," he replied without thinking.

"Yes, that's one way. The rings speak of past events; harsh winters, long summers, forest fires, blights. But there are other ways to store information within the bark. Veronica looked up into the branches and trees and wondered how many children had climbed me, and what animals had used me for a home or a scratching post. So I spoke to her mind."

"I see."

"At first she was frightened. But I spoke of my fears and my hopes, and she reciprocated. She willingly let me slip into her physical self, and the new me came into being."

Paul finished rinsing himself off, and wondered if he should turn off the water or allow her to continue her weird story unhindered. In the end he decided not to empty out his water heater. "Can you hand me a towel, please?" he asked, while extending his hand over the curtain.

Veronica handed him a towel. Paul wrapped it around his lower torso and pulled back the curtain. She stared at him, earnestness on her face. It was clear that she believed what she was saying, and aside from the bizarre tale she didn't seem in any way erratic.

"I'm Veronica Price. And I'm the tree spirit who has resided within that oak for many, many years. And I'm something else, a combination of the two that is greater than what the sum should be. I have access to both of their memories, although as you've seen I haven't managed to perfect the trick of using their memories as freely as they would. I'm not as shy and filled with self-doubt as Veronica is, and I'm not as simple and uncomplicated as the spirit is. I'm something more, much more."

"I see." Paul's erection had disappeared, not from fear that a mad woman had cornered him within his own bathroom, but simply because the tone of the conversation lacked any qualities that his subconscious deemed erotic.

"I had to tell you. Perhaps I've put it off a little long because I was afraid - well, Veronica's memories suggested that such a tale would not be believed." She glanced at her audience with one eyebrow raised. "You seem to be accepting this very easily."

Paul opened his mouth to say something comforting, and then closed it. He thought for a few seconds. "I'm sorry I just don't believe the story."

"Oh. I guess I should leave then," she said, with only a trace of regret.

"No." He raised his hands and began to step out of the tub when his towel starting slipping off. He hastily grabbed for it, not knowing exactly how much Veronica had seen. Her chuckles infected him. "I've been less clumsy at times. You don't have to leave, Veronica. I don't care if you believe that crazy story. I'm going to stop that tree from being torn down. I've invited you over for dinner, and I'm going to make you dinner and serve it to you."

She tilted her head. "I'll wait for you in the living room, then?"

Once she was out of sight, he dried himself off as fast as he could. As he walked from the washroom to the bedroom, with one hand ensuring the towel stayed in place, Veronica flashed him a quick smile and a shrug. The towel came off as soon as he had the bedroom door closed. Then he dressed himself in jeans and a golf shirt.

She quietly followed him as he went into the kitchen, keenly observing everything he did. He had been about to order her to keep her distance, but she showed no inclination to take over the cooking. She just leaned against the faux-granite countertop and watched as he mixed ingredients and prepared their meal.

A short time later they were seated at the small dining room table and she was staring at the french toast in amazement. Paul began to cut up his own slowly, delaying long enough so that she would take a bite before him, but she just kept staring at her plate.

"It's not too hot, is it?"

"No!" She looked up at him, shook her head and then stared at the plate again. "It's just - I watched you do it and yet I still don't fully understand how you started out with what you did and ended with something that looks and smells so...so desirable!"

He swallowed hard, remembering his erection during the shower, and the temporary loss of his towel. "Why don't you take a bite?"

She very slowly pushed the tines of the fork into the plump, folded bread. Then the knife came down, making a slow and steady back and forth motion. A piece of the food, blueberry jam dripping from inside, was pushed between her lips. She closed her eyes and smiled as she chewed the bite in slow motion. She took a second and then a third portion before she noticed Paul hadn't eaten any.

"Mmmm?" Her tongue darted out between her lips to collect some cream cheese that hadn't made it into her mouth.

"It has been a long time," he muttered, just before he began to eat his own serving. The taste and texture pleased him, partly because of the remembrance that this had been the first thing that he and Rachel had cooked together.

Paul tried to avoid staring at his guest as she ate, but his eyes kept wandering over to her. He didn't think she was purposefully trying to turn this meal into a sensually erotic event, but her sighs, moans and facial expressions were causing something to rise. He shrugged. As long as he was seated she wouldn't know, and even if she did find out the worst she would think was that she had turned him on.

Dinner seemed to finish far too quickly. Veronica sat back in her chair and took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. Paul shifted in his seat, trying to find some slack in his jeans.

"Oh, that was good Paul. I've been boiling pasta and eating raw vegetables and fruit. Veronica can cook well enough, but I've been wary of trying anything difficult in the kitchen. How did you learn to make that?"

"Rachel and I figured out the recipe after having some at a small hotel in Nova Scotia. I hope that doesn't bother you."

"Your pit is a lot shallower than it was."

"You've been very good for me, Veronica."

She smiled back at him, but there was a hint of sadness. "I'm glad that I've been able to accomplish something."

"Don't worry about your oak tree. We'll save it."

She gave him another smile. "Well, now what?" She tilted her head and her eyes took on a faraway look. "Oh, dessert! Or..." Her cheeks went pink. "I guess there's some dessert in the kitchen? Should I go get it?" She started to stand.

"Uhm, I completely forgot about dessert," he admitted. "There might be some ice cream in the freezer." He could feel his erection fading, but not quite quickly enough. He tried to think non-erotic thoughts. "Could you bring it out, please? Since you're already standing."

She nodded and left the room, leaving her plate and utensils on the table.

Paul looked down at his groin. "You're not making things any easier," he whispered.

He looked up as Veronica came back into the room carrying a small bucket of ice cream and two spoons. She sat beside him and pulled the lid of the container off.

"I'm guessing you like ice cream, then?" he asked. He hadn't eaten any since he'd put it in the freezer.

"I've never had it before. Wait, Veronica's had it and she likes it. So I guess I'll like it, too." She handed a spoon to Paul as he moved his plate, fork and knife out of the way. "We shouldn't eat too much though, should we?"

Paul dug out a mix of chocolate, vanilla and strawberry. "That's true of almost any food."

Veronica took smaller portions, trying each flavour one after the other. However, after a mere handful of spoonfuls they both agreed that dessert was finished. Paul took the spoons as Veronica sealed the container. They returned the ice cream to the freezer and all the dirty dishes went into the sink.

"Let's go for a walk before the storm hits," she suggested.

"Storm?" Paul could hear a wind outside, perhaps a little stronger than the breeze they'd had earlier in the day, but Environment Canada had not warned of any storms.

"Part tree spirit, remember? I'm in tune with nature. I can sense weather, and I know which animals are about and where they are. I've also an intuitive sense about their disposition." They walked to the front door and she picked up her running shoes.

"What about people?"

"People are harder to read; they're so much more complicated. I'm beginning to figure you out, but I don't think I'll ever be able to read you properly."

Paul dropped his shoes. "Let's go sit, " he suddenly remembered where the deck chairs were, "let's just go to the dock for awhile. It should be peaceful and we can talk for a bit."

Veronica dropped her own shoes and the two went out through the sliding glass doors to the backyard. Their bare feet stirred up insects as they walked through the grass, but nothing stuck around and Paul suspected the gusty breeze was the reason. The sound of lapping water grew louder until they finally stepped onto the weathered boards of the creaking dock.




Treehugger



Paul led Veronica out to the edge in the moonlight, as clouds streamed across the sky. At times they seemed luminescent as they hid the moon from view. The small lake was agitated by the breeze, and waves splashing up against the pilings. Some of the houses around the lake were visible because of the odd outside light still on, or due to drapes that were too shear to prevent indoor lights from shining out.

Veronica reached down into the black water. "It's warm."

"It's too small to stay cold this late into summer. There are fish, birds, turtles, frogs, you name it. During the day it's quite active with wildlife, and most of my neighbours have some arrangement so it's only used for swimming. I've never seen any type of watercraft on it except for the MacKenzie's row boat."

"Hmm," was her response, as the two of them stared out across the water.

"So how were you born, then?" he asked to break the silence.

"I told you."

"No. I mean, the tree spirit."

"I was awoken when the oak was very young. There was an elf, an elf woman. She was passing through the area. She told me some time later that the men of the region were engaged in a war, where great numbers of them were being hurt and killed. She sensed me deep within the young oak. She whispered to me. I heard her call and I awoke. She stayed around for a few years, teaching me some things. Then, she left and I've never met anyone like her since."

"I see," he answered, not quite understanding what she had just told him. "What about the other trees around here? Do they all have tree spirits?"

Veronica blinked at him. "I don't really know. I haven't sensed any, but they could be - submerged, deep down. That's a really good question, Paul."

"And what about Veronica? You said she willingly let you posses her. Is she still deep inside that body, watching everything you do?" The question had been in the back of his mind.

"I don't possess her body, Paul." Veronica dipped her hand into the lake again. "It's more like a merging of souls or spirits. The other two are here, but dormant. I can access them, but even that's not perfect because I actually am a separate individual. Because they're dormant they don't actually experience everything I do, but they will retain memories of it later. Does that make any sense?"

"It does. And I don't want to play devil's advocate, but she willingly let you take over her body once. How do you know she still feels the same way? Maybe she's been scared by some of the things that are going on and wants you out."

"I talked with her, yesterday actually." She glanced at Paul to gauge his reaction. "Or perhaps I should say I gave both of them the chance to end this existence and they chose to continue it, at least until the tree is saved or cut down. They are both fully aware of my actions to date, my intended actions over the next few days, and they are both one hundred per cent behind me."

"So the tree gets saved and you return to your oak and Veronica goes her way, and everyone is happy?"

She turned away from him. "You don't understand do you? The tree spirit returns to her oak. Veronica returns to her life. I cease to exist." His gasp caused her to whirl around. She grabbed his arms. "You have to understand! If the tree gets cut down it's far worse. If the tree dies, then the tree spirit dies. Veronica goes on with her life, and I still cease to exist."

Paul spoke very calmly. "Can't the tree spirit just go into another tree?"

"Damage to the tree hurts the tree spirit. She just knows that the destruction of the oak means her death. It's not something I can rationalize. It's just a fact."

"And whatever happens, you'll die," he stated, cringing at the thought. "You're just a temporary - personality?"

Veronica folded her arms across her chest. "If it makes it easier for you to think that, then yes."

"That's not what I mean," he said, trying to sooth her as he put his hands upon her shoulders. "You're real and I want you to be around for as long as possible. But I do want to face reality. If that means knowing that you're going to - to die soon, then I have to face that." He knew that on some level of consciousness he believed everything she had just told him.

"Let's go for a swim."

"Okay," Paul said, disconcerted at the change in conversation. "I've got swim trunks somewhere in the house. I think I can find you an extra set, and you can borrow one of my t-shirts for a top or would you prefer to just wear your bra as a bikini top?"

Veronica reached over her shoulders, pulling her hair aside with one hand and opening the zipper with the other. Then she reached down to her skirt and lifted the dress up and off of her. She raised her eyebrows at Paul.

"Well, I suppose we can swim in our underwear..."

Veronica reached around behind herself and unhooked her bra, dropping it to the dock on top of her dress. She bent over and pushed her panties to the wood, then kicked them over to the rest of her clothes. Her skin shone silver in the ephemeral moonlight. As she turned to dive into the water clouds obscured the moon and everything went black.

The splash had Paul pulling his golf shirt over his head and pulling off first his jeans and then his underwear. The moon poked out from behind a grey cloud, revealing Veronica treading water and staring up at him as he stood on the dock preparing to dive in. Paul shook his head and then plunged into the water. When he came to the surface Veronica splashed his face.

"How about we swim out a ways?" she asked.

He used a finger and thumb to wipe water from his eyes. "Fine."

They both used a lazy breaststroke to make their way away from the dock. Paul slowed and looked around.

"We're about in the middle of the lake now."

Veronica paddled back to him. She could see the houses surrounding them at a distance. Paul's house, with the curtains not drawn over the glass doors, was easily identifiable. She looked up, and had the eerie sensation that she was moving sideways across the lake much faster than she should be able to swim.

"That's an optical illusion." She stared at him, not understanding what he had just said. He continued, "The clouds are racing across the sky. We're still in the centre of the lake, but without reference points our brains think that we're moving and the clouds are standing still."

A sly smile crossed her face. "I have a reference point."

"Where?"

He nearly jumped as he felt something brush his belly. Then he recognized it as her hand. She reached further down and wrapped her fingers around his penis. "Right there, Paul."

They treaded water, staring at each other for a few seconds. The breeze blew waves across their shoulders and necks.

"Well then I guess I'm a little luckier than you." He reached out and pulled her close. "It acts like a compass, too. It always points to the most beautiful woman."

A light brightened on the edge of the lake. They both turned in surprise, but Paul realized what was happening.

"We'd better get back to the dock. Come on." He pushed her hand away. The two swam back toward Paul's home, keeping an eye on the house where an outside light had just come on.

Just before they reached the dock the back door to that same house opened, and a man and woman walked outside. They were talking easily, if a little loudly, and each had a beer in one hand. The moon went back behind some clouds and everything went black on the lake.

Paul grabbed Veronica's hand and they floated the last few metres to the dock. "Keep quiet," he whispered. "They may not know we're here." The two slowly made their way closer and closer to shore, until at last they were crouched down in ankle-deep water with just their heads poking over his dock.

The other couple walked to the edge of the lake and began to chat quietly. The moonlight shone down again, and Paul and Veronica exchanged looks. The light shining out through the glass doors of Paul's home was very bright.

Suddenly a phone rang. The other couple argued briefly and then went towards their home. Paul grabbed Veronica's hand and the two dashed for his home, running as fast as they could. The glass door was thrown open, they hurried inside, and then Paul drew the drapes and hid them from anyone else who might be looking their way.

Their hearts were thumping in their chests. They glanced at each other and an uncontrollable laughter took over. After a minute the laughter diminished to chuckles, and then finally died out.

Paul noticed Veronica staring at his groin. The excitement of almost being caught, coupled with the rest of the events this evening, had induced an erection again. He surrendered to her curiosity and turned his own gaze upon her. Her hair was slicked back on her neck and shoulders. Her breasts were round, but too small to be drooping at her age. She wasn't fashion model thin, but Paul liked the look of the curve of her hip and he knew a round bottom was currently hidden from his view. There was a femaleness about her that was impossible for him to resist.

They drew towards each other, she as intoxicated with his shoulders as he was with her hips. Without conscious thought, they came together and put their arms about each other. Veronica closed her eyes and rubbed her cheek on his firm chest, while Paul enjoyed the feel of her soft flesh on his own bare skin. Her gentle touch and the way she seemed to melt into him made him well aware of both her willingness and her eagerness.

At first both were content to simply hug; they enjoyed the innocent sensuality, comfort and intimacy of their embrace. Their hands ran over naked skin and the pace of their heartbeats increased. The world seemed to shrink until all there was were the two of them.

Paul's hands went to her bottom and he pulled her hard against him. This was met by a satisfied, "hmm".

Veronica's hands came up to his throat, rose to his chin and then cheeks. She steadied his face as she raised herself on tiptoes to kiss first stubble and then his lips. Their arms wrapped around each other, pulled them together more tightly. The kiss became a second and then a third, but their lips never quite fully separated.

Veronica reached down and pushed his hardness between her legs. Both smiled at the promise-filled wetness on the head of his penis and between her legs. She tried to pull him down, to the floor. He resisted. She felt his gentle pressure as he began to slowly guide her across the room.

Suddenly, he grunted in pain and then broke the kiss and embrace.

"What's wrong?" she asked, concerned that she had rushed him.

"Coffee table," he replied through a clamped mouth. Then he smiled.

They embraced and kissed again, although this time both kept an eye open for furniture as they inched themselves to the bedroom door. There was a "thunk" just as Paul thought they had cleared the doorway. Veronica rubbed the back of her head.

"Sorry."

"Wasn't your fault. You didn't push me into it, Paul."

They embraced again. Paul was confident that nothing now lay between them and the queen-sized bed. Veronica sensed the increase in their speed across the floor and, full of trust, submitted herself to Paul's lead.

In anticipation of their arrival at the bed their hands went down, exploring what the other had to offer. Veronica was as gentle as Paul, worried that if she pulled too hard she might hurt him. Paul concentrated on trying to tease a higher level of arousal from her by passing his fingers over every curve and every fold. With their minds fully distracted they bumped into the side of the bed and fell over onto it. They both laughed out loud for a few seconds and then eagerly resumed their kissing and fondling.

Veronica's leg went over his thigh, inviting him closer. They shifted together, the head of his cock pushing up against the soft cleft in her flesh. Her hand released him, reached down to her own sex and spread the lips. A quick thrust from Paul and the head was in, evoking a gasp from her.

She tried to draw him in more deeply, shifting her hips and pulling on his bottom, but their positioning didn't suit this, laying side by side as they were. Paul placed his hand upon her shoulder and pushed her flat on her back. He raised himself from the bed to stand beside it, bringing a brief look of concern to her face. As she came to realize he was merely positioning himself she licked her lips, waiting for his next move. His fingers ran along the inside of her legs. She spread them obligingly. Paul bent over her and kissed one nipple after the other, and then reached down with his hand and guided himself into her.

Veronica took a deep breath in, as his length seemed to push deeper and deeper into her. It went on for far longer than she thought possible, and she wondered if the sensations she was being bombarded with were altering her sense of time. At last he stopped, and she felt entirely and satisfyingly filled.

Paul paused, having pushed his shaft into her right up to the base. His erection pulsed, possibly growing to an even larger size, and he felt her squeeze. He cupped her breasts with his hands, finding them firm and pleasantly hemispherical. 

Veronica gave him an uncertain smile. "I remember her having sex once, long ago, and it wasn't a very good experience. I'm not certain how to do this properly, Paul. You'll have to let me know what to do so we do it right."

His brow furrowed. "There is no right way to do this. Each time it's an exploration of what you and your partner want." He pulled his hips back from her a little, withdrawing from her. Her eyes opened wide. Then he slowly pushed his way back in, savouring the feel of her. The sigh that came from her partly-opened mouth made him want to just thrust and thrust and thrust and then come inside of her. "If you want to try something, you try it."

"I like what you're doing way too much to interrupt. Keep going."

Paul withdrew again and then thrust in a little more quickly. This time her back arched a little and her eyes squeezed shut. Wrapping her legs around his thighs, she held him in place. Her breathing quickened and her breasts rose and fell under his hands. He tweaked her nipples but otherwise kept still as her breathing accelerated, until at last she let out what was half a squeal and half a moan.

"Oh, that was nice," she said very slowly, opening her eyes to look up at him.

"That was a little one, I think."

He withdrew and pushed in again, first gently and slowly and then faster and harder than he had earlier. He could feel the moistness inside of her coating him, lubricating her silk-like pussy. He leaned forward slightly, to get a better position and continued his thrusting.

With each push she gasped, her volume steadily increasing. She tried to reach out for his chest, but his arms prevented her. Then she grabbed for his arms. She squeezed his forearms and biceps, but found this less than satisfying and somewhere, in what was left of her conscious mind, she worried that she might scratch him or otherwise hurt him. Her hands dropped to the bed, where her fingers clenched the bed sheets.

Paul released her breasts to place his own hands on the bed on either side of her. He watched in fascination as her breasts swung away and then toward him in time with his thrusts. A sudden cry from her as she arched her back had him increase his pace. Sweat wet his back and the middle of his chest. The feel of her tight pussy pulling at him made him feel as if he could continue this all night.

Veronica's hands clenched and pulled at the sheets. She felt another orgasm rising within her, but one far better than the climax she'd had a few minutes earlier. She tried to grab at the feeling, to hold it and keep it still while it continued to grow, but this was beyond her. Her body was ignoring her commands and reacting entirely to the sensations that Paul was providing. She surrendered all mental control she had over the situation and felt, somewhere deep within her, the consciousnesses of two others awaken and silently scream out in ecstasy.

Paul was pumping into her at a frantic pace. Sweat dripped across his face. There was that desperate urge to orgasm, but it was just eluding him. At some point he had closed his eyes but he didn't remember when, nor did he have any idea how long he'd been making love to Veronica. It could have been five minutes or it could have been an hour. From the aching in his thighs and calves it felt like it may have been several hours.

There was a tingle in her fingers and toes. Heat shot through her limbs, coalesced in her abdomen, then coursed through her nervous system up into her head. The other two were there, feeling what she was. Veronica was and was not. There was an explosion deep within her womb and waves of pleasure washed through her. Her fingers ached and, regaining mental control, she forced herself to relax.

Paul wondered when he would cum. As wonderful a sensation as it was repeatedly thrusting into Veronica while listening to her climax, he desperately wanted to orgasm as well. He needed it, but it just wasn't happening. Then a drop of sweat rolled down the back of his balls. Everything came into focus. His hips thrust against Veronica very hard just as Paul sensed a release deep in his testicles. He kept pushing against her, keeping the head of his penis as deep inside of her as he could, as his cum spurted forth in rhythmic pulses.

Paul dropped his head and a couple of drops of sweat fell onto Veronica's breasts, to roll down between them and mingle with her own wetness. It was several minutes before either of them spoke.

"Thank you for sharing that with me, Paul."

He smiled back at her, as his unsteady legs threatened to collapse under him.

She reached up to his shoulders, a little unsteady, and pulled him down on top of her. She murmured happily and kissed his neck tenderly.

"I should say thank you," he said. "Thank you for everything, Veronica."

It was still night when Paul's return to the bedroom woke her. She lifted the sheet so he could climb back into bed more easily.

"Our clothes are gone, Ronny."

"What?"

"The wind must have blown them away. It picked up a bit once the storm hit. I can loan you something of mine when I take you home, but maybe we'd best leave early so your neighbours don't have any reason to gossip."

Paul fell into bed and lay on his back. His breathing slowed.

"I can understand why you're tired, Paul. Get some sleep. I'll make my own way home."

"Nah." He yawned expressively. "I'll take you home. Just let me know..."

Veronica smiled craftily and slipped from between the sheets. She walked around the bed and gave Paul a soft kiss. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Paul yawned as Veronica climbed into the truck and did up her seatbelt. "That was a dirty trick," he said with a smile. "You could have woken me up so I could see you safely home."

She shrugged in response. "I was perfectly safe."

"What did you wear?"

"Nothing. It was warm, and despite the wind the rain was very cleansing."

Paul shook his head and pulled out of her driveway and onto the secondary highway that led into town. "Human women don't walk around naked in the middle of the night."

"So you believe my story, then?" she asked with a big smile.

"As crazy as it is, I suppose I do." Paul yawned again. "I'm going to stop off at Timmy's before we get to the town hall. Do you want a coffee, or something?"

"I'll sip some of yours, if that's okay?"

A short time later Paul parked the truck in the municipal parking lot as Veronica finished his double-double. Councilman Pike was waiting for them at the front door to town hall. He approached them before they could leave the truck.

"Hello, folks!"

"Mornin'" they both called back to him.

"What's going on?" added Paul, noting that the friendliness of the lawyer's greeting wasn't matched by the expression on the man's face.