Storiesonline.net
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                              Harry and Amy
                            by Lazlo Zalezac

Copyright© 2005 by Lazlo Zalezac


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Description: Amy doesn't know it, but a couple of Druids have taken an interest in her and her Friday night activities. That's the good news. The bad news is that one of them is Happy Harry.

Codes: MF rom safe
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Copyright© Lazlo Zalezac, 2005

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Chapter 1


It was five o'clock on a Friday evening and people were leaving their jobs in droves. The doors of the skyscrapers were open more than closed as the occupants streamed out in what appeared to be a never ending flow. Traffic crowded the city streets. Horns honked and sirens wailed. The volume of noise was almost as good an indicator of the time of day as a clock.

Amy waited for her bus to arrive outside the Chicago Stock Exchange where she worked. The January weather was bitterly cold. Her breath showed as the warm air met the cold air. She shivered while looking down the street for the familiar outline of the bus. She couldn't use just any bus, but had to wait for the one with the lift. Despite the thermal bag hanging on the front of her walker, the burgers inside it were getting cold and she wished the bus would arrive soon.

She relaxed when the hulking figure of the bus turned the corner and pulled up to her stop. Johnny, the driver, waved as he pulled the bus over and stopped where she could get on without having to move. He climbed out of his seat and made his way to the back of the bus to operate the lift. It wasn't necessary, but he liked Amy and wanted to make sure that she was okay. When the door opened, he started the lift on its trip to the ground. With a smile, he asked, "How are you doing today, Amy?"

"I'm fine, Johnny. How are the wife and kids?" she answered.

"The wife is about to defend her thesis. She'll be getting a raise when she gets her degree," answered Johnny. His wife was a teacher and her pay was tied to the level of education and years in her position.

"I bet she's looking forward to being done," replied Amy. The ramp hit the ground and she used the walker to step onto it. She could hear the other passengers complaining about the delay, but she was moving as fast as she could. The walker wasn't her preferred form of support, but she couldn't carry much when she used the crutches.

Johnny hit the button for the lift and stepped back. Having a spouse who for the past four years had been going to night school twice a week was hard on a marriage. This was particularly true for a marriage with two small kids. The imposition didn't matter. He was proud of her. He said, "Yeah, we both are. It'll be nice to have her at home in the evenings again."

Amy smiled as the lift settled into place within the bus. She said, "I'm sure that you'll enjoy having her around the house."

Johnny closed the door and replied, "You bet."

Returning to the front of the bus, one of the passengers complained about the delay. Irritated by the rude comment, Johnny stopped and turned to the man. Shaking his finger in the man's face, Johnny said, "Amy's special. She's worth more than everyone else on this bus put together. I'll take as long as necessary to help her onto this bus. So will every other driver."

Amy frowned at the exchange. She didn't like to be treated special, but the damned braces that held her knees together forced it upon her. She stared out the door of the bus thinking about how a simple game of volleyball had totally changed her life. One minute she was running around and diving for the ball. A minute later, she was on the ground screaming in pain as her knees gave out on her. An operation to fix the problem showed that it was congenital and she'd never walk without assistance again.

The bus lumbered along its route. Rush hour meant frequent stops with lots of passengers getting on and off. She didn't need to signal her stop, Johnny would pick it for her just like he did every Friday night. She frowned as she looked through the glass panel of the bus door. The bus had left its normal route and was heading towards a very rough part of town.

One of the passengers complained to the driver. Johnny just smiled and explained that it was a necessary detour. His answer puzzled Amy. Usually, he dropped her off at one of three locations and this was far from any of them. They were heading into an area where people didn't know her.

The bus stopped and Johnny walked to the back of the bus. Reaching her, he said, "A special stop for you tonight."

"Thanks, I guess. It looks a little rougher than usual," commented Amy as she gathered her stuff together.

"Normally, I would agree with you. Tonight's different," replied Johnny as he opened the door. Checking to make sure that she was ready, he started the lift on its downward journey.

Amy looked at the homeless men gathered near the stop. One of the men noticed her and started moving to the bus. Recognizing the man, she relaxed knowing that Cal would take care of her if any problems developed. She smiled and called out, "Hello, Cal."

The California Kid waved and called back, "Miss Amy, we've got someone for you to meet."

The lift touched down on the ground and Amy struggled to step off it. From within the bus, Johnny said, "You won't need a ride home tonight, Amy."

After stepping off, she turned to look back at him and saw him smile at her as the lift started its upward journey. She didn't understand why he was abandoning her there. She asked, "No one is coming to pick me up?"

"Not tonight," said Johnny.

She couldn't hear everything that Johnny said because Cal was talking to her at the same time. The next thing she knew, Johnny had waved and closed the door of the bus. She turned to the California Kid and said, "Calm down, Cal. What's got you so excited?"

"He's here," explained Cal pointing in the direction in which he had come. The young man was practically dancing in place.

"Who's here?" asked Amy curious about what was going on. She'd never seen Cal this excited. The other homeless men would normally gather around her almost as soon as she got off the bus. Tonight, they were gathered around a lunch wagon.

"Harry!" exclaimed Cal wondering why she didn't get it the first time he had told her.

As the cold wind whipped around her, Amy fiddled with the thermal bag. It took a minute to get it detached from her walker. She handed it to him and asked, "Would you hand these out?"

"I'll give them to Harry to hand out," said Cal as he rushed off with the bag of hamburgers.

Amy watched the homeless man run off to the lunch wagon. It seemed to her that he was acting like a kid rather than the beaten down twenty-something person that he normally was. She watched as he reached the back of the lunch wagon and handed the bag of burgers inside.

Looking around at the other homeless men gathered there, she noticed that there were more smiles than normal. Even more surprising was that they were smiling at each other. Usually, the men and women were quiet and reserved. Some people even considered them sullen, but she knew they were reserved out of fear that they would lose what little they had if they were too friendly.

The frigid air was chilling her to the bone and she knew that she had to keep moving to stay warm. Summoning her energy, she started the long trek to the lunch wagon to find out what was going on inside. It was only forty yards, but that was a huge distance considering her physical condition. When she used the walker, she measured distance in terms of steps. In the rough terrain of the empty lot, it took her three steps to cover a yard and her average rate was five steps per minute. Forty yards was almost a ten-minute walk.

She paused just in time to see Cal disappear into the lunch wagon. A sense of surprise came over Amy when she saw the green robed figure step out the back door. She recognized him as a Druid. In these days and times, it was hard not to recognize a Druid. She had even worked with one who was investigating a stock manipulation scheme. That guy was intense. The only question that came to mind was what was a Druid doing in this neighborhood.

The Druid looked around for a moment, spotted her, smiled, and then headed in her direction. She paused, finding it difficult to move and watch him at the same time. Not for the first time that day, she cursed the leg braces that prevented her from moving with ease.

"Amy, it is such a pleasure to meet you. I've heard a lot about the Chicago Angel. When I arrived in town, I knew that I just had to meet the woman who takes the time and effort to feed my fellow homeless," said Harry in greetings as he reached her. The crooked smile on his face was friendly and open.

His greeting stunned her. She'd never heard of herself referred to as the Chicago Angel. She wondered if that was what they called her on the streets or if it was some sort of nickname that he was giving her. Nicknames, once given, would be picked up and repeated until it became a real name. She didn't know what to say and stood in place staring at him.

"Allow me introduce myself. I'm Happy Harry, last of the hoboes," said the Druid. He gave a half bow to her as he performed the introduction. The bow was accompanied by a full arm gesture as though he were in a royal court.

"Pleased to met you," replied Amy automatically. She continued to stare at the Druid wondering what he was doing there. Stories about a Druid who served the Goddess by taking care of the forgotten people were slowly returning to her. She wondered if this was that Druid and why he would be here in Chicago in the month of January when he could have been helping others in much warmer climates.

"The pleasure is mine. Not many people will take the time and effort to buy food for the homeless out of their own pocketbook," he said while gesturing towards the lunch wagon. He added, "Would you please join me in my carriage? It is much warmer in there than out here."

"Sure," she answered. Rather than attempting to help, he stepped beside her and matched his pace to hers. After a couple of steps, she said, "You can go ahead and wait for me."

"And miss a chance to talk further with you? Never," replied Harry turning on the charm.

"Miss a chance to talk to me?" asked Amy wondering if he was for real.

"Right."

Focusing on walking, she said, "You don't know anything about me."

"I'd say that I know a lot about you, Amy," answered the Druid with a grin.

"Really?" she said in disbelief.

"Every Friday, you get on a bus carrying a bag of food. Johnny takes you to a place where a lot of homeless are gathered and you get off the bus to handout the food. With no more than a kind word to everyone, you give of your hard-earned money in a form that helps rather than tempts weak souls. From what I've been able to guess, you spend about seven thousand a year on food alone. You don't preach, lecture, or judge," answered Harry.

The wind was making her nose run. She stopped and blew her nose before she said, "Cal could have told you that."

"The California Kid?"

"Yeah."

"Sure, he could have and he did. So did about fifty other people. Of course, none of them know that you work as a stock market analyst," commented Harry looking over at her to see her reaction.

"That's easy enough to find out. Johnny could have told you that," she retorted. She stopped walking to confront him without the distraction of moving.

"Sure, but my source was a lot closer to you than that. You worked with a friend of mine last year. He said that you were an honest person."

"You know Ed Biggers?" asked Amy realizing even as she asked the question that the Druids would all know each other.

"He's the head of those who serve the Two-Sided One. In addition, he gave me a couple million dollars and the roach coach," answered Harry with a smile. "Anyway, he told me all about you."

It unnerved her to know that Druids were talking about her. She wasn't important enough to be discussed within such circles. She was an analyst for an investing firm and was fairly successful. She made a good living and lived a simple life. Off balance, she said, "Oh."

"Ed was really sorry to learn that we could not fix your knees," remarked Harry looking down at her braces.

His direct examination of her braces embarrassed her, but she was used to being stared at by people. His gaze was different, seeming to focus on the impact they had on her rather than the ugliness they presented to others. Raising an eyebrow, she asked, "And why would Ed think he could do anything about them?"

"His wife is a healer and can heal all kinds of injuries. The problem is that the underlying cause of your injury is a congenital problem. She can't fix that," answered Harry.

The fact that he knew her problem was a result of a congenital condition suggested he knew far more about her than she had thought possible. She asked, "Are you trying to recruit me or something?"

"Good gracious, no!" replied Harry. The idea of going out and recruiting people was contrary to everything the Druids believed. People came to serve the Gods and Goddesses by seeking them out, being called to them, or by accident. The college was only a mechanism by which people could seek out service. It was strange, but in the entire time that the college had been in operation, no more than eight students in any year had become a Druid.

His answer made her wonder if he thought she wasn't good enough to become a Druid. She asked, "Why not?"

"That's not our way," explained Harry. He looked over at her and gestured towards his vehicle. It was very cold and the wind seemed to drive the chill into the bones.

She started walking while thinking about what Harry had said. If he wasn't here to recruit her, then why was he here? Lost in thought, it took her a minute to realize that she had arrived at the truck. She looked over at Harry and asked, "Now what?"

Smiling, Harry answered, "If you will allow me to lift you into the truck, you can wait in relative warmth while I finish my work here. Then I'll take you to dinner and home."

Staring at him, she wondered how this elderly man could possibly lift her into the truck. She wasn't a small woman, being close to six foot tall. Her braces added another thirty-five pounds to her weight. She said, "I'm much to heavy for you to lift me into the truck."

"I'm far stronger than I look," replied Harry with a wink.

"You can try," she replied believing that he would discover that he couldn't budge her off the ground.

With ease, Harry lifted her off the ground and carried her over to the passenger door of the truck. Upon reaching it, he said, "You're going to have to unlock your braces."

Amazed that he had been able to lift her and carry her around, she had not thought to unlock her braces. It only took a couple of seconds for her to comply with his request. He then placed her gently in the seat of the truck. The warmth of the truck greeted her like an old friend and chased away the cold chill that had crept into her body.

It was only after she was in her seat for a full minute that she thought to wonder about how easy it was for him to place her there. She had not noticed that the doors were extra wide so it was easy to carry her through them. She commented, "That seemed easy."

"I've had lots of practice. I tend to travel in areas that are dangerous. More than one unconscious person has been carried to that seat," replied Harry with a wink and a salute.

It made sense to Amy. She'd made more than one 911 call on her cell phone to have an ambulance pick up some unconscious homeless person. What didn't make sense to her was how a guy his age could lift her so easily. She nodded understanding despite the fact that she didn't understand and waited as he returned to the truck. He packed her walker in a storage area reminiscent of the luggage area on a bus.

"Listen up everyone. In a week, a new homeless hotel will be opened up here. It will have space to sleep a hundred, bathrooms, and showers. There will be an outdoor heater. Best of all, you'll have a mailing address. There will be food for those who are willing to do a little work around the place. All of that for the amazingly low price of zero dollars!" Harry shouted his message to the gathered homeless.

His message was greeted with grins. The homeless hotels were famous as havens for homeless folk who were ill or just needed a good place to stay for a night or two. The fact that they would have an address was just as important as a bed. Getting a job often required an address. Without a job, you couldn't get an address. It was a catch twenty-two that made it harder to get off the streets.

Amy listened to Harry interact with the men and women who were gathered around the truck. It amazed her how he managed to convey hope with simple words. In all the years that she had provided Friday night dinners for the homeless, the best she had been able to do was to stave off hopelessness. She understood it was the difference between the resources they each brought to the problem.

It was twenty minutes later before Harry climbed into the driver's seat of the truck. Turning to face Amy, he said, "Hold on. This here crate put the sway into the sway backed nag."

Amy squealed as the truck rocked from side to side when Harry drove over the curb and onto the street. She expected the rocking motion to settle down, but it didn't. The rocking motion threatened to make her sick. Noticing her expression, he asked, "Are you starting to feel a little seasick?"

"Yeah," groaned Amy.

"Perfectly natural," replied Harry as he swerved to miss a pothole in the street. The motion set the truck to rocking even more. He reached over and patted her arm as he said, "Don't worry. There are airsickness bags in the pocket of the door."

She stared at him in shock and then studied the door for the pocket with the airbags. There wasn't a pocket in the door. Confused, she said, "There's no pocket in the door."

Grinning, Harry said, "Got 'cha!"

It was a joke? It was a joke. She started laughing as she realized that the Druid was joking. The laughter took her mind off her unsettled stomach. Her laughter grew as he recited a very funny version of the flight safety lecture given on airlines. She was still laughing by the time they pulled up to a very nice diner.

Harry parked the car and announced, "We have arrived."

The laughter died from her lips when she thought about the hassle of getting to the door of the diner and to a table within it. For a moment, she had forgotten her problems. Before she knew it, Harry was out of the truck and at her door. He had stopped to unpack a walker and set it by the door.

He lifted her out of the seat. While he was holding her, she locked her braces into place so that they would support her when she stood. He set her on the ground with a gentle landing that spoke of far greater strength than she guessed humanly possible.

She reached for the handle of the walker and then noticed that it wasn't her walker. She bent to examine it and was surprised to find that it wasn't a walker at all. Looking over at him with a puzzled expression, she asked, "What is this?"

"One of our makers created this device and would appreciate it if you would try it out. The base lowers down to the ground so that you can step onto it. With the flip of a button, it will raise you off the ground. The wheels are fusion powered. You steer by pushing the two handles. Forward will drive the wheels in a forward direction and back will drive the wheels in reverse. Let go and it will stop," answered Harry watching her for the expected reaction.

Furious at the presumption of the Druid, Amy shouted, "If I wanted a fucking mechanical replacement for my legs, I'd have settled for a wheelchair a long time ago! I have legs! They may not work great, but I'll use them until I can't use them any more!"

Harry laughed despite the fact that it was not what most people would have considered an appropriate response to her outburst. Her reaction had been expected and he was pleased to see it. With cheer in his voice, he said, "This isn't to replace your legs."

His reaction surprised Amy and she looked at him. She asked, "If it isn't mechanical replacement for my legs, then what is it?"

"It is transportation, just like a bus, car, boat, or airplane. You have no problem taking the bus from your office to where you feed the homeless. This is to carry you over great distances in areas that are rough," answered Harry.

"Why give it to me here?"

"I just wanted you to have a chance to try it out. I figured from here to the door was far enough for you to get feel for it," answered Harry.

Not quite trusting him, she stepped onto the platform. Following his directions, she flipped the button that would raise the platform from the ground. She rose six inches. Unsure about what to expect, she asked, "How fast does it go?"

"Zero to sixty in ten seconds," answered the Druid. He winked upon seeing her reaction and then said, "At a normal walking pace."

She pushed one of the handles forward and started turning in a circle. She pushed the other handle and the course straightened out. She was headed away from the restaurant. It took a little time to get control of it and get it aimed in the right direction. Harry kept pace along side her. She said, "This is kind of strange."

"I'll admit that I took it for few spins around the block. I rather enjoyed it," commented Harry.

When they reached the door of the restaurant, she stopped and waited for him to open the door. He stood beside her and waited. Finally, she asked, "Aren't we going in?"

"I'm waiting for you to park it," answered Harry.

"Park it? Where?"

"How about over by that metal post over there?" answered Harry as he gestured to a metal post that held the sign displaying a handicapped parking space.

"Some one will steal it."

"If you park it over there, I'll show you the electromagnetic lock."

Maneuvering the device over to the post was a little easier now that she had some practice controlling it. She ran it up to the post and then released the handles. She noticed there were a pair of arm crutches attached to the device. She grabbed them after lowering the platform to the ground. With practiced ease, she backed away to stand beside Harry.

Harry placed a device in her hand and said, "Press the button."

She pressed the button and the vehicle pulled itself to the sign. Walking over to it, she tried to pull it way, but it was stuck fast. She pressed the button again and the vehicle rolled a quarter inch away from the pole. She asked, "How's it work?"

"A fusion battery powers an electromagnet. Once it is activated and makes contact with iron or steel, it isn't coming off until turned off."

"Neat," she replied. Looking over the device, she was amazed at the simplicity of construction. The person who had made it must have been a genius. Looking over at Harry, she asked, "So what is this thing called?"

The original name had been the 'Inner-City All Terrain Vehicle.' Everyone had agreed that the name was a mouthful and over time the name had been shortened. He answered, "We've been calling it an IC ATV, short for Inner-City All Terrain Vehicle. You can call it by what ever name you want."

Using her arm crutches, Amy made her way into the restaurant and they were led to a booth. It took her a minute to get settled into the seat, but she settled back. Looking across the table at the Druid, she asked, "So what is it that you really want from me?"

Now that she had removed her hat, coat, scarf, and gloves, Harry could see that she was a very attractive young woman. The cold air had given her cheeks a rosy glow. Her breasts swelled her top in a manner testifying to the fact that she was a well-developed woman. Her clothes didn't exactly advertise her figure but were tight enough to let him know she wasn't fat. It made him wonder why she would choose to spend her Friday nights with homeless men and women rather than socializing with friends.

Sitting back in his seat, Harry answered, "Nothing. I want nothing from you."

"Then why are you doing this?"

"I serve the Gods and Goddesses. I have been charged with helping the invisible ones in our society. My activities are part of my service. Your actions are manifestations of the goodness within you," answered Harry.

Amy didn't respond. She didn't trust herself to respond. She looked over at the Druid wondering how he would react if he understood her reasons for doing what she did. The destruction of her knees hadn't just ruined her ability to walk; they had ruined her chances for finding love. No sane man wanted a cripple in his life. She shrugged her shoulders.

Her reaction was not exactly what Harry had expected. He studied her for a moment trying to determine why she had reacted in such a non-committal fashion. He said, "I want to help you."

"You want to help me? Help me do what?"

"Deliver food, kind words, and hope," answered Harry watching her carefully. There was more to her story than he had fathomed.

She turned her head away from him and looked out the window for a moment. The glass reflected their images back at her. There was no relief from his probing gaze. She faced him and said, "I don't deliver hope. I saw that tonight after watching you. I've just been staving off hopelessness."

Harry rubbed his chin while he considered her words. After a minute, he said, "You aren't very happy."

"Do you want to know why I go out there every Friday?"

"Sure," answered Harry.

"I have nothing better to do," she declared. This was the first time she had admitted it aloud and it hurt far more than she thought possible.

"I agree. There is nothing better than going out and helping your fellow human beings," said Harry even though he knew she didn't mean it in that manner.

"You don't understand," cried Amy. She fumbled with the silverware to unwrap the napkin. Tearing the napkin off, she put it up to her face and cried into it. Years of frustration, loneliness, and pain burst forth.

Harry's voice took on a gentle smoothing tone as he said, "I do understand. Ever since your accident, men haven't paid attention to you. They see the braces, not the woman the braces hold upright. You can't do any of the other activities that filled your life before the accident. You see a future without love, so you reach out to others who share your sense of abandonment."

His words soothed her enough for her to look over the shredded napkin at him. A small piece of the napkin was stuck to her cheek, held in place by a tear. He reached across the table and removed the errant piece of napkin. Shaking his head, he said, "You couldn't see anything better to do, but there were thousands of other things you could have done. You chose the best and it was a giving choice."

"But I'm not doing it out of the goodness of my heart," countered Amy amazed that this man wasn't condemning her motives.

"Sure you are. You just don't realize it," answered Harry. Everything about the way he spoke suggested that she wasn't to argue the point.

Amy dried her tears, tearing the napkin into even smaller pieces. He might forgive her motives, but she didn't. She sighed and then answered, "Okay."

It didn't take a mind reader to know that she wasn't convinced, but convincing her wasn't his task for that evening. He said, "I want to help you make a difference. I travel around the country taking care of people in the large cities, but I'm only one person. Would you oversee the homeless hotel for me?"

"Oversee the homeless hotel? What does that entail?"

"Stopping by once a week to deliver the money to keep it operational. Make sure that the person in charge of daily operations doesn't need any special resources. That's all."

"And if I chose not to do this?" asked Amy.

"Then someone at the Fusion Foundation will take care of it," answered Harry without guile. Although he was asking her to work, it wasn't because he needed her to work for him. He was, in truth, giving her the opportunity to help in a broader manner.

"The Fusion Foundation?" she asked, eyes going wide at the idea that he could call upon their resources.

"Sure. The Fusion Foundation provides the money for the daily operation of the homeless hotels. They pay for food, blankets, clothing, and all of the utilities."

"Why would they do that?" asked Amy.

Harry spent the rest of the meal telling Amy about the founding of the Fusion Foundation by John Carter and the subsequent management of it by Ed Biggers. The picture that unfolded staggered her imagination. She couldn't believe someone would give up billions of dollars to help others in the manner that John Carter had. She couldn't believe someone would dedicate the rest of his life to see that vision spread to every community in the country and across the world. She had worked with Ed Biggers and hadn't known.

Harry parked the truck next to her car. Turning to her, he said, "It'll just take a minute for your stomach to settle."

"You need to get this truck fixed. It isn't normal for any vehicle to move like that," she complained. The thought that she'd have lost her dinner if she'd eaten anything greasy made her nauseous.

"It's not that bad," countered Harry. He rather enjoyed the motion of the truck although it had become a little more extreme of late.

"It's that bad," she charged.

Harry got out of the truck and helped her to the ground. He then showed her how to fold up the IC ATV and put it in the trunk of her car. Made of lightweight composite materials, the vehicle was surprising light at only thirty pounds. Once it was packed away, he walked with her to the driver's side door of her car. With the arm crutches, she could walk a normal pace.

After she had gotten into her car, but before she had closed the door, Harry stepped close to her and dropped to one knee. He took her hand in his and kissed it. Amy was shocked by his action and looked at him wide-eyed. He said, "There was only one part of your reason for helping the homeless that I object to."

His words were like a cold slap in the face. Incredibly hurt, she asked, "What?"

"That you were destined to a future without love," said Harry.

"Huh?"

With a smile, Harry said, "You will find love. You have the word of a Druid on that."

Amy sat in her car for ten minutes trying to make sense of the Druid. She felt something stirring inside her, but didn't she know what it was. It came to her when she finally reached home. That something she was feeling was called hope.



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Chapter 2

The sharp rap of knuckles impacting the door broke Amy's concentration. Irritated by the interruption, she turned on the screen saver and looked up from her computer screen. In a harsh voice, she said, "Come in."

Richard Montclair, her boss, opened the door and entered the room without saying a word. Usually, he didn't visit the people who worked for him in their offices, but called them to his office. On this occasion, he had made an exception for this visit. His boss had requested that he deliver a personal invitation to the company picnic to Amy.

He looked around her office for a minute. It had been years since he had been in her office and he couldn't believe that she had been working in it all that time. He had never seen such an empty room in his life. It was totally devoid of anything personal, not even a photograph. Unnerved by the stark and sterile surroundings, he said, "The company picnic is this Saturday."

Amy looked at her boss for a minute before deciding that it would be in her best interest to attend. He wouldn't have personally delivered the invitation otherwise. The problem was that she didn't like picnics. They were held outdoors and the ground made it hard for her to move around. She couldn't participate in any of the events and always ended sitting off to the side alone. She replied, "Sorry. I'm busy, Mr. Montclair."

From behind Richard, a male voice asked, "Did I understand that there's a picnic?"

Richard wondered which of his employees would stand at the door eavesdropping on their conversation. He answered the question even as he turned to face the speaker. "Yes, a company picnic."

"I love picnics. Picnics always include my favorite foods -- fried chicken, cole slaw, potato salad, and pickles. And we can't forget the games. A good picnic includes games - three legged races, tug- o-war, and baseball."

Richard stared at the green robed man standing before him in shock. Not knowing what else to say, he repeated, "It's a company picnic."

"Splendid," the Druid said, "Amy and I will be more than happy to attend."

Amy listened to the exchange in shock, wondering who was the mystery man hidden behind Richard. The echo through the partially blocked door and noise outside the office made it difficult to tell who was speaking. When Richard moved out of the way, she saw the green robe and the shepherd's staff. She didn't need to see his face to know who it was. Excited to see him, she shouted, "Harry!"

"Hello, Amy. We're going to a picnic. This nice gentleman invited us," replied Harry with a smile and a wink. He patted Richard on the shoulder as though he were a long lost friend.

"Who are you?" asked Richard.

"Harry!" she repeated. This time she said his name in protest at accepting the invitation without discussing it with her.

Richard turned back to look at Amy wondering what she had to do with a Druid. The last time a Druid showed up at the Chicago Stock Exchange the market dropped ten points. Harry's presence was going to cause a bit of turbulence in the market, of that he was sure.

"That's me," answered Harry with a grin. He stepped around Richard and looked around the office. His face wrinkled as he took in the lack of décor. Frowning, he said, "This has got to be the ugliest room I've ever been in. You sure you work here?"

"Yes," answered Amy. She was used to the reaction of other people to her office.

Richard interrupted, "Excuse me, but who are you?"

"I'm Harry. Happy Harry, last of the Hoboes."

"Happy Harry?" asked Richard trying to figure out what kind of name that was. It wasn't a proper name and he wondered if the guy was actually a Druid.

"Yes, that's my name," answered Harry. Turning back to face Amy, he asked, "Don't you believe in pictures? How about a few plants?"

Staring at the fireworks displayed by the screensaver, she answered, "I don't have any photographs and I can't take care of plants."

Snapping his fingers, Harry said, "I need a piece of paper, a pen, and a piece of scotch tape."

Richard asked, "Who are you?"

"You've asked that three times. Are you slow or something?" asked Harry enjoying the unease of the immaculately dressed man. He estimated the man's suit cost over a thousand dollars. He decided the man was the kind who thought charity consisted of writing checks for the tax write-off.

"Excuse me?" asked Richard shocked at the statement. No one had talked to him like that in years. He stuttered even as Harry turned his back to him.

Amy handed the paper and pen to Harry. Bending over to write on the desk, Harry drew a picture of a sun over a tree under which stood a hobo complete with bindle on a stick. Little heart shaped figures floated from the hobo to a stick figure woman. In a corner, he wrote, 'Harry loves Amy.' When she handed him the tape dispenser, he hung the picture on the wall. Stepping back, he said, "Much better."

Amy stared at the picture for a minute and started giggling. A five- year-old kid could have done a better job on the picture, but this one was pure Harry - humorous, cute, and harmless.

"I'm going to call security," threatened Richard.

Harry turned to look at Richard and shook his head. In a quiet voice, he said, "No you won't. Today at lunch, I suggest you go down to the burger place and buy five hundred dollars worth of gift certificates. Don't cheapen your actions by getting a receipt so that you can write off the money. Once you've got the gift certificates, go onto the street and hand them out to the panhandlers and homeless people. When you've given all of them away, come back here and look in the mirror. You'll see a better man looking back at you."

"What?"

"At that time, you'll be a good enough man to tell me to leave," Harry turned his back on Richard dismissing him.

Richard turned to Amy and knew she wouldn't dare dismiss him in the same manner as the Druid. Her job depended upon his good will and he could fire her in a minute. In getting to his position, he had never been afraid of using his power to make a point. He asked, "Who is this man?"

Still smiling at the picture, Amy answered, "That man is Happy Harry, last of the hoboes. He is a Druid who serves his Goddess by taking care of the invisible people in this society. He watches over the homeless, the poor, the hurt, and the lost. He's the American version of Mother Theresa."

The comparison of him with Mother Theresa brought a smile to Harry's face. He shook his head in the negative and said, "Everything she said is true except that Mother Theresa part. That was a little overboard. Little? Who am I kidding? It was way over the top."

Amy shook her head with a smile on her face. Seeing the look on Richard's face, she said, "He's the real thing. He's the one who has built Homeless Hotels all over the country. He's part of the reason why not one homeless person died in that horrible storm last February."

"You're really a Druid?" asked Richard.

"Horrible green dress, gold trinket around the neck, and a perverted mind. Yep, I'm either a Druid or a rapper with a bad fashion sense," replied Harry.

The comment about being a rapper cracked up Amy. She was used to his sense of humor and had come to enjoy his jokes. She didn't know what kind of sense of humor her boss possessed, but she doubted it extended to the kinds of jokes that Harry told. Still laughing, she made a gesture like a rapper. Harry adopted a similar pose.

Richard shook his head and said, "You're crazy."

"People keep telling me that, but I'm secure enough in my insanity not to believe them," replied Harry.

"Why are you here?"

"Why I am here is not your business. However, I have accomplished what I came to do so I shall now leave," answered Harry. He had learned that Amy was spending almost every evening at the Homeless Hotel helping hand out food and supplies. It bothered him that the young woman was not developing a social life. Even the homeless at the shelter had expressed their concerns about Amy.

With a smile plastered on his face, he turned to Amy and said, "I shall pick you up for the picnic Saturday."

Amy started to protest that she didn't want to go to the picnic, but with Richard there she couldn't say that and with Harry there she couldn't lie. Caught, she nodded her head in agreement and mumbled, "Okay, Harry."

As Harry turned to leave, he said, "You work for Michael Walters, don't you?"

"Yes," answered Richard warily.

"He's such a nice man," commented Harry as he left the office. Pointing his way with an arm, he sidestepped his way down the hall. The sound of Amy's giggle followed him.

A very uneasy Amy rode her IC ATV across the grounds of the house where the picnic was being held. Harry walked beside her, cheerful at the change in his routine. They hadn't quite reached the picnic tables where everyone was gathered when, in a last ditch effort to duck out, Amy said, "It's not too late. We can turn around and leave."

"No chance of that happening," replied Harry. He winked and said, "I can't wait to run the three-legged race with you."

"There's no way I'm doing that," declared Amy.

"I had no idea that Mickey lived in such a big place," remarked Harry looking over at the house. The house was situated on a hundred acres of land that ran along the shore of Lake Michigan.

To the best of her knowledge, no one ever referred to the CEO of the brokerage firm as Mickey. Wryly, Amy asked, "Mickey?"

"Yeah, Michael Walters," answered Harry. He noticed the amused expression on her face and answered her unasked question. "I met him years and years ago. That was long before he was a somebody."

"Oh," replied Amy. It surprised her how many people Harry knew.

As they approached the crowd, a figure detached itself from the tables and walked towards them. The man waved and shouted, "Harry! It's great to see you."

"Hey, Mickey!"

The man came over and picked up Harry, hugging him tightly. With obvious delight, he said, "My old friend. I'm amazed that you're here. How did you know to come here?"

"Ah, I'm the date of this young lady," answered Harry gesturing to a very embarrassed Amy. As her face turned a bright red, he said, "May I introduce you to Amy."

With little more than a causal glance at the braces, Michael turned to Amy with a genuine smile. She wasn't aware of it, but he had been watching her career ever since Ed Biggers had worked with her. The fact that she could deal with a Druid of his caliber without a problem had signaled to him that she was future executive material. He took her hand in a warm grip and said, "Delighted to meet you, Amy. Any friend of Harry is a friend of mine."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Walters," answered Amy. She wasn't sure how to address him, so she chose the formal address appropriate for a business situation.

"Please call me Mike," replied the executive. He said, "Only my employees call me Mr. Walters."

"I work for you," replied Amy not wanting there to be any misunderstandings about her position.

"In that case, call me Mike," answered the man with a grin. At the surprised expression on her face, he added, "I didn't say that I liked to be called Mr. Walters, just that my employees are the only ones who call me Mr. Walters."

Harry laughed as the three of them made their way to the tables. Amy was intimidated to be in the presence of the CEO. She wondered if the man really meant what he said about any friend of Harry's being a friend of his. Harry had some pretty scruffy and rugged friends that most people wouldn't want to meet, much less consider a friend. Working up her nerve, she asked, "How do you know each other?"

Mike answered, "I was a little wild when I was in college. One day I had too much to drink. When I woke up in an alley, Harry was sitting there watching me. It scared the hell out of me at the time. I'd never met a homeless man. Pardon me, a hobo before."

Harry grinned at the correction. Mike continued, "Harry took me on a little tour in which he showed me what happens to people who can't control their drinking. He didn't put it to me that way. Instead, he introduced me to some of the people that he knew. As I learned their stories, I came to the realization that I had to take control of my life. I haven't had a drop since that day."

"Were you a Druid then?"

"No, that was years before I met the Goddess," answered Harry shaking his head in denial.

When they arrived at the picnic tables, Harry noticed that Richard was standing off to the side watching. Turning to Richard, Harry said, "You didn't do as I asked."

"How did you know?"

"I would have heard about it if you had," replied Harry. He shook his head and said, "I was very disappointed in you."

Mike paused and asked, "You asked him to do something? What?"

Harry answered, "I asked him to take a lunch out to feed some of the homeless in the area."

Mike turned to study Richard for a full minute. Richard was a rising star within the organization. He ran a tight ship and his teams produced good results. He wondered if there wasn't a character flaw within the man that would eventually lead him into trouble. Looking over at Harry, he asked, "Harry, could I ask a favor of you?"

"Sure," replied Harry having a very good idea what he was going to be asked to do.

"I'd like you to take Richard here under your wing for a month. Take him around and let him meet some of your friends," requested Mike. He looked at his friend hoping that the answer would be positive.

"No problem," answered Harry. He made a show of looking over the physique of the executive as though sizing up his strength. He added, "I've got a couple of people who are suffering from psychiatric problems that I'm trying to help. I'm sure that Richard would be a great help."

Unable to believe what was being discussed, the young businessman looked at his boss in shock. His boss was asking someone to have him deal with crazy people. Trying to minimize his exposure, Richard said, "Sure, I'll make some calls to the local hospitals and see if we can't get a bed or two opened up for your people."

Even Amy had to laugh at that offer. Mike said, "Richard, Richard, Richard. He can make a collect call to the Surgeon General and get more doors open than you can possibly imagine. Don't be ridiculous. The help he needs is a little more physical than that."

"I don't want to do that," answered Richard. He didn't go to an Ivy League School to end up in an alley wrestling with some crazy man.

"You'll do it if you want to keep your job," answered Mike. There was no humor or friendliness in his voice when he delivered his threat. He explained, "If you want to understand business, you need to see the effects of various business decisions. Going to the thousand dollars per plate dinners hosted by politicians will only show you one side of the story. You need to learn the other side of the story; the people who are affected by the bad decisions made by executives."

After agreeing to meet Harry at 6:30 Monday morning in front of the office building, a very disgruntled Richard walked away. He kept looking back at Amy, blaming her for his current predicament. Although others wanted to take the place abandoned by Richard, Mike kept his attention on Harry and Amy. He asked, "So how did you two meet?"

"I heard of the Chicago Angel who was going out every Friday night to feed the homeless with food purchased from her own money. I tracked her down and discovered that it was Amy. She'd been doing that for over a decade," explained Harry. He put an arm on her shoulder and added, "She's now watching over the Chicago homeless hotel that I started earlier this year."

"Really, I'm impressed," commented Mike looking over at Amy with increased respect. He hadn't known anyone in his firm was so active in social issues. Although no one knew it, his wife ran a food kitchen in South Chicago. She talked about it, but only as if she occasionally did volunteer work at it. He helped out as much as he could, particularly around the holidays. He was very proud of his wife's involvement with the poor.

"He makes it out to be more than it is," said Amy. The young woman found herself blushing.

A bark of laughter forced itself from Mike as he retorted, "He hasn't made it out to be anything other than a statement of fact."

"Oh," replied the woman. She felt like she kept making a fool out of herself in front of this man. Not knowing what to say, she decided to say nothing. Harry grinned at her silence.

Amy frowned as Harry led her over to the starting line. She couldn't believe that she had allowed him to talk her into participating in the three-legged race. She was going to look like a fool and she hated looking foolish more than anything. The others at the starting line were looking at her in surprise, unable to believe that she and an old man were participating in the race. The young executive prospects were all highly competitive and were in the race for blood. Amy said, "This is a really stupid idea."

Discounting her arguments, Harry said, "Nonsense. How can you have fun if you don't play?"

Amy looked around at the others and said, "They aren't here to play."

"I am and that's that."

It took him a minute to tie her left leg to his right. Once that was done, he unlocked the brace so that his leg would control it. Standing up, he said, "All you have to do is worry about getting that right leg of yours out in front of us."

"You're crazy," commented Amy as she hugged him to keep from falling over.

"You know, a lot of people say that about me," he replied with a grin. He wrapped an arm around Amy and held her tight to him.

Stepping up to the starting line, Mike shouted, "On your mark. Get set. Go!"

The others participating in the race took off like shots. Amy just stood there for a second and then swung her leg forward. Harry kept up with her. After ten steps, she realized that they were actually making progress. They were definitely in last place, but she didn't care. She was too busy laughing as Harry made jokes about how they must look to everyone else.

The course was only a hundred yards long, but to Amy it had seemed like an impossible distance. As they approached the finish line, she was shocked to hear others calling out in support of them. Although she had no idea which team had won the race, she was sure who was the crowd favorite. There was no doubt of that.

When they crossed the finish line, an exuberant Harry shouted, "And the tortoise wins again!"

Amy was laughing too hard to even stand. Harry was holding them both up. When he suggest that they take a victory lap, she lost it completely. They fell to the ground in laughter. It was more than a few minutes before Harry untied them and locked her brace into place.

Carrying her crutches, Mike came over with a big smile. As he handed the crutches over to Amy, he said, "You know, it's funny. Forty people participated in the race, but only two had fun. I hope you compete in the wheelbarrow race. Maybe some of the others will get the idea."

Mike helped Amy to her feet. Harry handed her the crutches after she was standing. Grinning, she said, "I'll take part, but only if Harry is the wheelbarrow."

"Oh my, I've created a monster," complained Harry with a theatric grin.

They sat out the wheelbarrow race as participants, but were chosen to be judges. As wives cheered on husbands, the competition was fierce as each team tried to stand out in front of the boss. At least it started out highly competitive. In the beginning, the only ones who had any fun were Harry and Amy.

Harry ran along side the competitors making announcements as though he were calling a horse race. He had given each team a nickname. Abbot and Costello had dropped into last place right out of the starting line. They were the first to succumb to his jokes about their athletic ability.

The mixed gender team, Ginger and Fred, were light on their feet, but slow in the mid-section. They fell to the ground when he started singing, 'Oh lucky guy.' The crowd cheering on the participants had started singing as well.

He had nicknamed the most competitive team, the Grumpy Old Men, and made all kinds of jokes about how seriously they were taking the race. It soon became too much for the man who was the wheelbarrow and he collapsed on the ground in laughter. That had been about the time when Harry mentioned that first prize was a second hand key to the janitor's bathroom in the building across from the one in which they worked.

Another very serious team he nicknamed, Serious Business. They lost it when he described them as a stallion and broken down nag in heat. When he wondered how long it would take the stallion to mount the nag, the race was over for that pair. The guy holding up the barrow had doubled over in laughter.

The winners of the race were a couple of guys from the computing center. They had probably been the most out of shape of all the competitors, but after the first ten yards they had decided to have fun with it. When they crossed the finish line, Amy shouted out, "And the winners are Bit and Byte!"

A number of the older executives who hadn't participated stopped by to tell Harry and Amy how much they had enjoyed the events this year. In the past, the competition had heated up to the point where major arguments had broken out. They commented on how nice it was to see people having fun for a change.

Amy found herself seated at a picnic table surrounded by the real movers and shakers within the company. At first, she felt nervous about talking to them and their wives, but she relaxed after hearing some of the wives talking when the husbands went off to get some food. She was surprised to learn that one of the wives had worked in the Emergency Rescue Section of the Fusion Foundation for ten years before she had meet and married her husband. Most of them were heavily involved in various charities. She could tell that they really believed in the organizations with which they worked.

She fielded a lot of questions about Harry. None of them, with the exception of Mike's wife, had met him. They all knew who he was and wanted to know how she had met him. She didn't answer that question, but did talk about the kinds of things that Harry did in the Chicago Area.

When Harry returned to the table, he faced the wives and said, "Ah, I see you are all getting to know the Chicago Angel."

"Stop calling me that," complained Amy. It embarrassed her every time he said it, particularly in front of others.

"So you are the Chicago Angel," commented one of the women at the table. She nodded as she put the pieces together. The braces on the legs, the fact that she was friends with Harry, and that she knew more about the social services in the Chicago area than most of the wives around the table identified her without a doubt. She said, "I've heard about you. There are a lot of men and women who speak very highly of you. They say that you've been feeding the homeless for years out of your own pocket and that you hand out coats at the beginning of winter."

Mike showed up at the table juggling two plates. He set one of the plates in front of the woman that had just been speaking to Amy. He said, "I see you've met my wife, Abigail."

She was confused by the idea that people were talking about her in the social circles in which these women lived. Trying to explain it away, Amy said, "Chicago Angel is just Harry's nickname for me."

Abigail laughed at the comment and said, "Oh no. Lots of people on the streets call you that. You can't imagine the impact it has when a woman with braces on her legs makes the effort to help out others. I really should have recognized you when you showed up here with Harry."

"How do you know all that?" asked Amy confused by the wealth of information about her activities conveyed by Abigail.

"I occasionally work at a food kitchen in South Chicago. You hear things," replied the woman. She turned to her husband and put her hand on his arm to get his attention. Once she was sure that she had it, she said, "She's a good one. I didn't know that any of the younger executives actually took any interest in the social issues of our time."

"I'm not an executive. I'm just a business analyst," interjected Amy. She looked over at Harry for help, but he just winked and then pointedly turned to talk with someone else.

Grins broke out around the table, but no one suggested that her presence at the picnic meant she was being considered for promotion. Mike smiled as he looked down at his plate. The silence at the table was finally broken when Abigail suggested, "Why don't you and I get together some time. I'd like to see the Homeless Hotel."

"Uh, it's in a rather bad part of town," said Amy. She didn't want the wife of the CEO of the company that she worked for getting mugged or raped on a visit to one of the seedier parts of town.

By the time the food had been eaten, Amy had accepted a number of invitations to attend social events with the wives around the table. It wasn't that she wanted to do of them, but that she didn't know how to say no. She wasn't sure what half of the luncheons were about, but she figured that she had to eat.

Amy found herself sitting alone at the table with Abigail. The older woman looked at her with a smile and then said, "I think I can trust you not to spread what I'm about to tell you."

"Huh?"

"I run the Wooden Spoon," answered Abigail.

All of the clues had been there for her to see, but she hadn't put them together. She knew about the Wooden Spoon. It was one of the few places where a homeless person could get a meal without getting a sermon. It was owned and run by a woman. Rumor had it that she was some sort of rich woman, but no one was sure. Putting a hand over her mouth, Amy said, "You're Gail."

"Yes. We run in the same circles and know the same people. I heard about Miss Amy taking charge of the Homeless Hotel from the California Kid," Abigail replied.

"A lot of people speculate about you. I'd heard that you were rich, but I didn't believe the rumors," said Amy.

Abigail looked over at her husband with a soft smile on her face. He was talking with a couple of the younger men and women who were promotion prospects. The young men and women were circled around him nodding respectfully to every word that he said. She faced Amy and said, "I wasn't always rich."

There wasn't anything for Amy to say so she said nothing. The older woman smiled at her and said, "Let's go play Bocce."

"What's that?" asked Amy.

"It's a lawn game. A very small ball is thrown out on the lawn. Then players of opposing teams take turns throwing bigger balls at the small ball. You get points for having your ball closer to the big ball. It's a simple game and shouldn't be too difficult for you to play," answered Abigail with a gesture to the arm crutches.

It wasn't long before Amy found herself teamed with one of the guys from the computing center. Abigail had introduced him as Brian. When Abigail had formed the team, he had turned to Amy and asked, "Which one was I? Bit or Byte?"

Amy answered, "Byte."

"Oh good," he replied.

"Of course, I'd tell your partner exactly the same thing if he asked," teased Amy surprising herself.

"Ah, then I'm lucky that I asked first," he replied with a wink. He added, "I'd hate to walk around feeling inferior."

They played a number of games of Bocce, winning some and losing some. Amy was disappointed when it was time to leave. The picnic she had dreaded had turned out to be more fun than she could possibly imagined. Settling in the seat of the lunch wagon, she said, "Thanks Harry."

"For what?"

"For making me come to this picnic. I haven't had this much fun since I lost my knees," answered Amy. She still couldn't believe she had participated in a three-legged race.

"A pretty young lady like yourself will have many more opportunities for fun. Believe me when I say that."



-------

Chapter 3

She almost didn't recognize the man who stepped through the door of her office. It wasn't that he had physically changed, but he was a changed man. Gone was the arrogance and contempt with which he had normally addressed people. Amy wondered what Richard's month with Harry had been like to change him so. Concerned, she said, "Hello, Mr. Montclair."

"Hello, Amy. Call me Richard from now on," he replied. He paused and looked around the room. The picture that Harry had drawn was still hanging on the wall. Next to it was a framed picture of Amy and Harry running in the three-legged race. The expression on her face in that picture was one of pure joy. Nodding in the direction of the picture, he said, "That's a good picture of you. You really look happy in it."

Amy looked over at the picture for a moment with a large smile as she remembered the moment it captured. She said, "I didn't even know it had been taken until the picture, complete with frame, showed up on my desk."

"The plants look good. They give the office a softer feel to it," commented Richard as he took a seat across from her. That he had taken a seat signaled another change in the man. In the past, he stood forcing the seated person to either stand or look up at him. Everyone knew that it was an intentional power play, but that knowledge didn't help the poor victim of his games.

Surprised by the direction of the conversation, Amy said, "The secretary said we could rent the plants from a service and that they would take care of them. All I had to do was ask to be put on the route."

"I should have told you about that before. I guess I just didn't bother to think about it. Rather inconsiderate of me," admitted Richard. He wondered how many other little things he hadn't bothered to think about.

After a minute of silence, Richard said, "Mike was waiting for me outside the building when Harry dropped me off last night. After talking with Harry for a little bit, he talked with me. I've been promoted to Vice-President of Business Development."

Amy leaned forward with a smile and said, "Congratulations."

"Thank you," replied Richard. The promotion had come out of the blue. He had been fighting for it, but after the last month it seemed that his priorities had changed. He had learned so much that month. He'd met a man who had a position identical to his about five years earlier. The man had lost it after his wife died of cancer and he'd gone on a drinking binge that hadn't ended yet. A half-day conversation with the man had made him wonder what he had been working for in his life.

"When are they going to announce it?" asked Amy. She hadn't seen anything about him getting promoted in her e-mail.

"After I inform my successor that she has my position," answered Richard watching Amy for her reaction. A small smile curled up as he wondered how long it would take her to figure out the identity of his successor.

She wanted to ask who her future boss would be, but she knew he wouldn't tell her until he told that person first. One of the major requirements in this business was being able to keep one's mouth shut. She said, "Whoever she is, she's in for a lot of work. I wish her a lot of luck. When are you going to inform her?"

"I'm working on it right now," answered Richard with a smile.

A puzzled expression crossed her face as she considered the implications of his answer. Could it be that he meant her? Cautious, she asked, "Do you mean me?"

"Yes, I do," answered Richard. A month ago he had been willing to get her thrown out of the company after Mike had turned him over to the Druid. After that month, he respected her more than himself.

"No?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes."

The desire to jump up and down, hug someone, and generally express her joy with physical activity remained. Her ruined knees didn't diminish her desire, but they did slow down her ability to pursue it. Amy grabbed her arm crutches and stood up. She didn't have to walk to him. He met her before she had taken a single step and embraced her with a good solid hug. Stepping back, he said, "Congratulations, Amy. You deserve it."

"Thank you, Richard," answered Amy. Unbidden, tears started to well up in her eyes.

"Normally, if I promote a married person I send them home early so they can tell their spouse and celebrate. In your case, I'm going to send you to the Homeless Hotel so you can share the news with Harry before he leaves town."

Amy was excited and didn't know what to do next. She said, "Thank you."

"You'll need to get someone to help you negotiate your contract. We'll take care of that over the next week or so," commented Richard. He was going to be doing the same thing as a result of his promotion.

"Thanks," gushed Amy. She'd never thought of what was involved in getting promoted into the executive ranks of a company.

Richard walked over to the door and paused. Turning to look back at Amy, he said, "I discovered something about the invisible ones that Harry talks about. They are people, too."

"Yeah. They get to you, right here," she replied pointing to her heart.

Feeling as if he had been made privy to a great secret, Richard said, "I'll put out the announcement now. By the time you get packed up to leave, the rumor mill will know about our promotions."

Amy smiled as the door closed behind Richard. She decided that she was going to enjoy working for him from now on. He hadn't been a bad boss, but she suspected he would now become a great boss. Upon returning to her chair, she shutdown the computer and packed her stuff to leave. It took her less than ten minutes. Stepping out of her office, the secretary said, "Congratulations, Amy. We're all so happy for you."

"Thank you, Karen. It was totally unexpected," she replied.

The Saturday following her promotion had been a rather surreal experience. An executive consultant had arrived on her doorstep at ten in the morning. She had been expecting the executive consultant, but not what happened after she had arrived. The woman had gone through her closet separating her clothes into two piles, one containing clothes she could keep and one containing clothes that she was to get throw away. After a vigorous argument, the second pile had been separated into clothes to wear only to the Homeless Hotel and clothes to throw away. After that, they had gone shopping for the next six hours. After spending nearly forty thousand dollars, they returned to the house where she was lectured on how to dress for success.

Alone for the first time since ten that morning, Amy settled into her comfort chair with a cup of hot tea. She was wearing her fuzzy pink bathrobe, one of the few items the executive consultant had not commented upon other than to say it looked comfortable. She sighed and said, "What a strange day."

While she was sipping the last of her tea, there was a loud knock on her door. Wondering whom it might be, she set the teacup down on the table and struggled out of her chair. Using the arm crutches, she made her way to the door grumbling as she moved. It was after eleven at night, much too late for visitors.

Looking through the peephole, she saw that it was Harry. Concerned, she opened the door and said, "Hi Harry. What's up?"

A figure in an expensive looking suit was on the ground at Harry's feet. He knelt down and picked the man up. He grunted from the effort and said, "Let me in."

Amy backed away from the door and watched as Harry carried the man into her house. With the same demonstration of strength that he had shown when he had picked her up, Harry set the man down on the couch. She didn't recognize the man. Curious, she asked, "Who's he?"

"I'm not sure. He's a good man, but I don't know much more about him than that," answered Harry with a crooked grin. He looked down at the man for a moment and then said, "It seems that he was rolled. Some horrible person took his wallet."

Frowning, Amy looked at the man with the kind of eye that came from dealing with the homeless. His clothes were definitely expensive. He was still wearing his watch and it was a designer watch that spoke of money. She asked, "Did you call the police?"

Uncharacteristically, Harry fidgeted for a second and wouldn't look at her. Finally, he answered, "I'm sure the person who took his wallet got away. Calling the police wouldn't do any good. It would be a waste of everyone's time."

"If you say so," she replied, not quite believing his story. She looked down at the man as she pulled her robe tighter. She had more questions than answers. She turned to look at Harry and was surprised to see him standing by the door.

With an apologetic shrug and then a wave, he said, "Well, take care of him. I'll see you around."

"What!" She was too late to catch him. He had already slipped out the door and closed it behind him. She screamed, "Harry! Get back here!"

The man on the couch groaned, but didn't wake up. It was clear to her that he was down for the night. Looking down at him, she tried to figure out what to do. There was no way she could move him from the couch. He'd have to sleep there for the night.

She used her crutch to pull her footstool over to the side of the sofa. She sat down and examined the man smelling the alcohol on his breath. It wouldn't do for him to sleep wearing his tie. All she needed was for him to strangle himself on it in his sleep. Nervously, she reached out and touched his tie. The smooth silk felt cool to her fingers. Her fingers trembled as she worked it off his neck. She unbuttoned the top button of his shirt.

His suit coat was tangled beneath him. She decided that had to be removed as well. Shaking her head, she struggled to get the coat off him. She flinched when his head bounced off her brace. With a grimace on her face, she said, "That's going to hurt in the morning."

She removed his shoes so they wouldn't get the couch dirty. Then came the socks although they were a little more difficult to justify. She wondered about his belt and if it would rip the fabric of her couch. By the time she was done, his pants and shirt had joined the rest of his clothes on the coffee table. She found herself staring at his boxers, tempted for a minute, but only a minute, to remove them as well.

Levering herself up from the footstool, she went into her linen closet and grabbed a sheet with which to cover him. She stopped by her bed and picked up a pillow. It was hard to carry all of those items, but she managed. She always managed. It wasn't as if she had any choice in the matter.

After placing the pillow under his head and covering him with the sheet, she stood next to the couch and said, "Harry, I'm going to kill you."

Looking down at him, her curiosity got the better of her. She leaned down and ran her hand over the sheet as if straightening it. Knowing that it was wrong, she couldn't help herself. She told herself that it wasn't her fault that her hand happened to cross his crotch. She paused with her hand directly over his cock trying to guess its size. When it stirred, she snatched her hand back.

Flustered, she moved away from the couch. After drinking her tea, she headed off to the bedroom. Locking the door, she sat down on the bed and removed her braces. It felt good to have them off. She ran her hands over her legs, rubbing the soreness out of them. When she realized that her hands had moved a little too far north, she stopped. She looked in the mirror on the dresser and said, "Get a grip. It's just a man."

The words echoed in her mind. It's just a man. The only men who had touched her over the past ten years were her doctors. Not a single man had been interested in her since her accident. Her body was ready for it, though. Just the idea that a nearly naked man was just on the other side of the door was enough for her to get wet between the legs. Once again, she said, "I'm going to kill you, Harry."

Morning came and Amy found that she had gotten very little sleep through the night. Groggy and still tired, she forced herself to put on the braces so that she could go into the bathroom. Even as she put them on, she thought that they were the last things she touched before going to bed and the first things she touched when she woke.

After performing her morning business in the bathroom, Amy made her way into the kitchen. It wasn't long before her coffee was brewing. Looking around for her pushcart, she remembered that she had left it in the living room. The cart was necessary since she couldn't carry a cup and move at the same time. Disgusted at herself for having left it there, she headed to the living room.

She stared at the pile of clothes on the coffee table for a minute trying to remember how they got there. A male head slowly rose up from the couch surprising her. She screamed. He moaned as his hands flew to his head and he dropped to a fetal position on the couch. It was only then when she remembered the events of the previous evening. It took her another second to realize that she should probably stop screaming.

Clutching her robe tightly to her chest, Amy waited to see what he would do. After a minute, the man's head slowly rose up from the couch. He paused in fear of evoking another scream and looked around. Even moving hurt his head. Confused, he wondered where he was and how he had gotten there. He turned his head by turning most of his body until he saw her standing at the entrance of the living room. He started to speak, but the first noise that came from his throat was more of a croak than a word. It was loud enough to drive nails into his head.

"Good morning," she said. He winced and she dropped the volume of her voice.

"Morning," replied the man although it hurt to say it. He looked down at his body and realized that he was undressed. In a move that was too fast for his comfort, he looked back at her wondering if he had taken advantage of her the previous evening. She didn't look familiar to him.

The pair stared at each other for a full minute. Neither one knew what to say to the other. Finally, the man grunted, "Bathroom."

Pointing down the hall, Amy said, "That way. There are fresh towels if you need to shower."

He stood up to head to the bathroom. She stared at his boxers. He looked down at his boxers and turned red. She stared at his boxers some more. He looked up at her. His erection slipped the confines of his boxers. She stared at his erection with wide eyes and open mouth. He looked down at his erection. A second later he was scrambling for the sheet to cover his body once his barely functioning brain processed what had happened. Flustered, she fled to the kitchen while he ran off towards the bathroom.

She laughed once she reached the kitchen as the humor of the situation finally came to her. As she poured a cup of coffee, she said, "I imagine there have been worse first encounters, but I've never heard of one."

Deciding that he would be busy in the bathroom for a while, she returned to the living room and fetched the cart. Pushing it back to the kitchen, she wondered what she should do now that he was awake. It had been years since she had a hangover, but she remembered that some coffee and a couple of aspirin would help.

She waited in her comfort chair for the stranger to exit the bathroom. The sound of the shower running gave her minimal clues as to what her guest was doing. He was taking a long time. She wondered if there was going to be any hot water left by the time he was done. His coffee was getting cold.

The water turned off suggesting that his shower was over. The noises of a person moving around in the bathroom made her wonder what he was doing. It was ten minutes before he entered the living room with a towel wrapped around his waist. Not able to look her in the eye, he said, "Sorry. I hope that I didn't do anything unpleasant last night."

"What happened?" asked Amy curious how he had become so inebriated the previous evening.

"I don't know. I was at a fund raiser drinking orange juice and the world got dizzy on me," answered the man. It was a rare occasion when he drank and then never in public. His condition was puzzling, since he had ordered orange juice rather than club soda. He avoided club soda because the bubbles bothered him.

"Screwdrivers," commented Amy with a knowing nod.

"What?"

"Vodka and orange juice."

"That explains it," commented the man. He looked around the living room trying to find something that would give him a clue about the identity of his hostess. This was the first time he had woken in a strange woman's house with no memory of meeting her and he didn't know how to act.

"It does. How?"

"I can't taste Vodka," he answered. It was true. Vodka tasted just like water to him and if the drink had contained vodka he would never had known it.

"Really?" she asked unable to believe it. She'd never heard of such a thing, but there were a lot of things that she didn't know. That a fruit drink could cause such devastation she knew full well. There had been one episode in her past where a rum concoction had left her totally wasted.

"Yeah, I hope I didn't drive here," said the man hoping she would answer with something that would let him piece together the events of the previous night.

An uneasy silence settled over the room. He didn't know how to go about asking her name. Glancing over at her, he took in her appearance. Seated in the chair wearing a pink bathrobe, she looked very much like the girl next door. Soft brown hair that came down to her shoulders framed an attractive face. Despite the fact that she wasn't wearing makeup, he liked her face. He didn't mind the braces, but the plain solid looking shoes contrasted sharply with the rest of her outfit. The contrast was jarring to his hung over brain.

Gesturing to the cart, Amy said, "There's some coffee and aspirin for you. I'm afraid the coffee has gotten cold."

He picked up the aspirin and swallowed them using the cold coffee to chase them down. The cold coffee brought a grimace to his face and a tinkle of laughter from Amy. After a shiver went through his body, he said, "Thanks."

"If you would like to warm up your coffee, the pot is in the kitchen," she said as she pointed in the direction of the kitchen. It was too much of a hassle for her to push the cart back to the kitchen, fix another cup of coffee, and then push the cart back.

Rising from his seat, he said, "Thanks. Could I refill yours while I'm up?"

Smiling, she handed him her cup. He took it and wandered off in the direction she had pointed. He was gone a lot longer than it should have taken for him to refill the cups. He returned and handed her a cup of hot coffee. Sitting down, he took a sip of his coffee and sighed in pleasure. When he set the cup down, she noticed that he had added milk to it. Mentally, she chastised herself for not thinking to offer him cream or sugar. She said, "Sorry, I didn't think to ask you if you needed cream or sugar."

"No problem," he replied. He took another sip of the coffee trying to figure out what to say. His trip to the kitchen had not yielded any clues as to her identity. He felt like a cad by not knowing her name. Had he slept with her last night? Why couldn't he remember anything about her? The last thing he remembered was talking to the Druid.

Looking around the room, he could tell she made good money. The furniture was expensive, the artwork on the wall was original, and the room itself was large. Taking a deep breath, he took the plunge. "I really hate to sound like a cad, but I don't remember your name."

Amy laughed as she realized what had been going through his mind. With a grin, she said, "I suppose I should be hurt by that."

"Please don't be hurt. I'm really truly sorry, but I just don't remember anything about last night." The anguish in his voice suggested that he really did feel horrible.

Unable to continue teasing him, she said, "Harry brought you here last night and you were already unconscious. The reason you can't remember my name is that you never knew it."

"Harry? The funny little Druid?" asked the man. The events of the previous evening were starting to come back to him. Dimly, he remembered telling the Druid about not feeling well last night. The Druid had promised to take care of him.

"Yes, Happy Harry brought you here," answered Amy. She was busy putting the pieces about the previous night together as well. With a suddenness that startled her guest, she grabbed her crutches and launched herself out of her chair. She went over to the front door and opened it. On the doorknob was a small bag. She swore, "Harry, I'm going to kill you!"

Grabbing the bag, she closed the door and returned to her chair. Sitting down, she opened the bag, peeked inside, and then tossed it to her guest. With a scowl, she said, "Harry said that some little creep had rolled you and that you had no id on you. He said he brought you here because he didn't know where you really lived."

Puzzled, the man opened his wallet and examined the contents. He said, "Everything is here."

Shaking her head, she said, "Harry is playing a little game with us."

"Oh. Why would he do that?"

Amy glanced down at her braces believing she knew the answer. She sighed and then answered, "He has an odd sense of humor. By the way, my name is Amy."

"I'm Bill," replied the man relieved to have a name for his hostess. He looked down at himself and realized he was still wearing nothing more than a towel. He'd have to get dressed. The last thing that he wanted was for little Bill to rear his ugly head. Reaching over for his clothes, he said, "I better get dressed. I feel a little uncomfortable sitting here dressed like this. I feel a little naked wearing nothing more than a towel."

Amy was about to say that she was enjoying the view or that she was wearing nothing more than a robe but realized it wouldn't be exactly appropriate. She levered herself out of the chair and said, "Stay here. I'll go in my room and dress as well. We can go out to breakfast after we're dressed."

Amy slowly made her way to her bedroom. Almost upon reaching it, she realized he was going to have to wear his suit. That was a little fancy for a simple breakfast at the local diner. She turned to ask him if she should get dressed up. She had just about entered the living room when she saw him. He had just dropped his towel and was reaching for his boxers. His back was to her, but what she could see looked very nice indeed. Not wanting to get caught, she backed up and then moved to her bedroom as fast as she could.

Inside her room, she took a minute to get her emotions under control. She slipped a hand between her legs amazed at the wetness she found. She snatched back her hand as though it had encountered acid rather than her natural secretions. Shaking her head, she said, "Amy, you've got to get control."

At the closet, she picked out one of the new outfits she had purchased the day before. The consultant had suggested she start wearing longer skirts. They would hide her braces and give her a greater sense of presence. The outfit she selected to wear for breakfast had cost more than the combined cost of the clothes they had thrown away the previous day.

Nervous at the reaction she would get, she stepped into the living room. Bill turned and looked at her. His expression of pained hangover turned to one of pleasant surprise. He whistled and said, "Wow. You dress up nice."

She smiled and said, "I'm glad you like it. I figured with you wearing a suit that we should probably go to a nice place to eat. I have a place I would like to try. I hope you don't mind."

Bill was about to suggest a place, but decided to let her choose. She had been kind enough to take him in and he didn't want to impose. Shrugging his shoulders, he said, "Lead the way."

She led him to the garage and got into the car. He entered the passenger side, uncomfortable at not being in the driver's seat. Amy turned to him and said, "Sorry, but I have to drive. It took me forever to learn how to operate this car and I'm sure the controls are pretty unfamiliar to you."

Looking at the controls of the car, he realized he didn't know how to operate it. The brake and accelerator pedals were missing. A hand control was mounted next to her chair. She was right, he'd never figure out how to use the car in time to drive her to the restaurant.

For him, it was a strange sensation not to be in charge and he found that he was trying to decide if he liked the feeling. She pulled out of the garage and headed towards the place she had in mind. When she pulled onto the highway, he stared at the sign in confusion. He asked, "Where are we?"

"I'm heading towards Lakeshore Drive," answered Amy as she changed lanes.

"Uh, what city?"

"Chicago, of course," answered Amy taking her eyes off the road long enough to see his reaction.

"We're not in Milwaukee?" asked Bill, shocked to learn that he was in Chicago. Last night, he had been at a fundraiser in a suburb of Milwaukee. It had been some sort of effort to help the homeless. It had been an unusual event for him since he usually supported medical charities.

Amy burst out laughing at the news. She couldn't believe that Harry had driven him all the way from Milwaukee just to deposit him in her lap. It made her wonder on whom Harry had pulled the joke, her or Bill. She said, "I guess I'm not going to get a chance to kill Harry after all."

"Why?"

"I think you are going to beat me to it," she said with a laugh.

Bill chuckled as he realized the humor of the situation. He was curious why Harry had taken him so far from home, but there was no telling. He didn't know the Druid that well, but Amy seemed to know him quite well. He replied, "You may be right."

"I don't know why Harry kidnapped you like that, but I'm sure he had a reason," said Amy echoing his thoughts.

"Where are we going?"

Amy smiled and said, "We're going to the North Pond."

The North Pond lived up to its reputation. After they had been led to a table next to a window, Amy gazed out upon the skyline of Chicago. Bill examined the view and said, "This is nice."

"Yes it is," replied Amy as she turned to look at her dining companion. She smiled to herself at the idea she was having breakfast with a man who had spent the night with her. She hadn't ever done that before. She didn't particularly care that they hadn't done anything. It was just the idea of it that struck her as amusing.

"What are you thinking?"

Amy blushed at the thoughts she was having. Rather than answer, she said, "I was wondering why you haven't commented on my braces yet."

"They aren't a big deal," replied Bill with a shrug.

"They aren't?"

"No. My dad had polio when he was a kid. I never knew him without braces," he replied. Talking about his dad reminded him how much he missed him.

"Wow. Your mother must have been a saint to marry a cripple," commented Amy.

Far angrier than was reasonable, Bill leaned forward and, shaking a finger at her, said, "Don't call my father a cripple. He was a great guy who lived life to its fullest. He was a great guy."

Surprised by the vehemence in his voice, Amy apologized, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

Embarrassed by his outburst, Bill leaned back in his seat. Years of getting teased about his father's condition had made him overly sensitive to comments. He would have expected such a comment from someone else, but not her. Wanting to make a point, he asked, "Do you think of yourself as a cripple?"

Amy sat back in her chair and looked out over the skyline of Chicago. His question struck a nerve deep within her. Did she think of herself as a cripple? Most of the time, she did. That one day at the picnic she had forgotten about her knees, but that had been an exception. Harry was there and anything went when Harry was around. When it came to dealing with men, she didn't feel like a complete person. She was a cripple and she knew it from the looks they gave her when they looked at her. She didn't like the answer, but it was the truth. In a very soft voice, she answered, "Yes."

For a moment, Bill thought that he hadn't heard her correctly. She had answered yes? What kind of person answers yes to a question like that in this day and age? Incredulous, he asked, "Are you serious?"

As tears welled up in her eyes, she turned to look at him. Lips trembling, she nodded her head. She couldn't trust her voice to convey her answer without cracking. She saw a look on his face that defied description. The only phrase that came to mind was that he looked like his favorite dog had just died.

"That's so sad," he commented in a soft voice. He looked her in the eye wondering what could have left her feeling that way. It wasn't right for a woman, particularly one who was her age and so mobile, to feel that way about her condition. Sighing, he said, "You aren't a cripple."

Amy was on the verge of crying. She felt as if she had been lying to herself in getting so worked up over the few glances she had of his body. Bill would have laughed at her if he had known the kinds of thoughts she had about him. Feeling defeated, she looked up at him and said, "Tell that to the men who only see braces when they look at me."

Bill leaned forward and took her hand within his. He asked, "How can you say that to a man who sees nothing except the woman?"



-------

Chapter 4

A very dirty young man stepped up to the window of the shack at the Homeless Hotel. He watched as Amy ladled stew into plastic bowls. She was humming while she worked. With a wry smile, he said, "Miss Amy. You sure look happy today."

Looking up from the pot of stew, Amy examined the young man. She paused in the middle of ladling out another bowl of the hot stew as she took in the dirt that covered him. She laughed at the sight and asked, "Cal, what happened to you?"

"I got a job cleaning out an old building and discovered that the old coal chute still had coal in it," he grinned. His yellow teeth looked white in contrast to the fine black powder covering his face.

"You're going to have to get cleaned up before I give you anything to eat," she chastised.

"Just save me a bowl of that stew. I really worked up an appetite," Cal replied with a smile.

One of the old men in line behind him said, "Looks like The Kid got a tan."

Black George, the man who actually ran the daily operations of the Homeless Hotel, said, "Hell. Looks to me like the kid smartened up and got tired of being a white boy."

Amy laughed at the good natured joking and said, "Black George, you know he's not that smart."

Everyone laughed as Cal grinned and headed off to the showers. It was going to take him at least an hour to get all of the coal out of his clothes and hair. At least it was summer and he wouldn't freeze under the cold water. It didn't make sense to him that they didn't include a Fusion Water Heater in the camp.

Amy returned to her work, laughing about Cal and his appearance. There was a story behind the coal chute and she was sure that she'd hear all about it later when folks settled down around the fire. The fire wasn't necessary, but as Red-nose George said, "It provided the proper ambiance for a Homeless Hotel."

"Who put the sway in your caboose?"

Amy looked up and, waving the ladle around like a weapon, shouted, "Harry! I'm going to kill you!"

Bits of stew flew all over as she shook the ladle. A good percentage of it landed on Harry, who stepped back with a smile. He wiped a bit of stew off his face with a finger and then tasted it. He said, "This is good, but I usually get my stew served to me in a bowl."

Cackling at the exchange, Hotel Harvey asked, "Hey, Harry. What did you do to Miss Amy?"

"I'll stew you!" threatened Amy as she fought to keep the grin off her face. It was hard pretending to be mad at him. She hadn't seen him since that night four months earlier when he had brought a passed out Bill over to her house. She hadn't seen Bill since the morning after, but they talked on the telephone almost every night and exchanged e-mails with regularity. He was coming to town the next day for their first official date and she was looking forward to it.

Grinning, Black George said, "Yeah, Harry. What did you do? I haven't ever seen her this excited."

"Me? I did nothing!" Harry stood in place trying to look innocent and angelic. His pose fooled no one and prompted another round of laughter. When it came to help or creative mischief, Harry could fool no one.

"Nothing? You kidnap a man and drive him a hundred miles to drop him off at my place. You call that nothing?" asked Amy. She put her hands on her hips and stared down at him. She started to sway and leaned forward to support herself on the edge of the counter.

"Damn Harry. You gave her a man? Why didn't you bring me one too?" chided Trashy Tracy as she put a hand to her hair and posed like she was a fashion model. She was about as far from looking like a fashion model as was possible on the street.

"Tracy Darling, you already have me," answered Harry as he hugged the bag lady and kissed her soundly.

Amid shouts suggesting that they get a room, Tracy said, "Okay, Harry. I'll hold you to that."

Smiling at her, Harry said, "I'm looking forward to it."

Dancing in place, Tracy shouted, "Boys, I'm getting laid tonight!"

The grimaces on the faces of the men around the shack suggested that they felt sorry for Harry. Laughing, Harry said, "Now that we know why Tracy is happy, tell us why you are so happy, Amy."

Red-nose George (he was one of the three men named George in camp and he had a red nose) said, "It's obvious. She has a boyfriend."

"About time," commented Black George.

"You can say that again," said Hotel Harvey.

Tracy commented, "Yep. Even my sex life has been better than hers and I haven't been laid in five years."

Shocked at the comments about her personal life, Amy asked, "Don't you guys do anything other than discuss my life?"

Hotel Harvey answered, "Hey, we don't got jobs. Got nothing better to do than to talk about you."

"It ain't right for a pretty woman like you to be hanging out with the likes of us," said Red-nosed George with an authoritative nod of his head.

"So where is lover boy?" asked Tracy.

Blushing at the characterization of Bill as lover boy, Amy said, "He's coming down here tomorrow afternoon."

Realizing that some of the men hadn't been fed yet, Black George nudged Amy and said, "Amy, why don't you go over to the fire pit? I'll finish up ladling out the stew."

Wanting a chance to talk with Harry, Amy handed him the ladle and said, "Save some for the California Kid."

"Will do, Miss Amy," replied Black George with a chuckle. He was looking forward to the story about how the young man had become covered with coal dust.

As Amy settled by the fire pit on the tall crate one of the men had found for her, the men who had already eaten or gotten their stew joined her. The regulars had cinder blocks, creates, or broken chairs to sit on. The transients sat on one of the railroad ties scattered around the area. This was the social area of the Homeless Hotel, where people would tell stories, sing songs, or wax philosophical. It was always crowded when Amy or Harry was around.

Tired of being the subject of conversation, Amy knew one sure-fire method to change the subject. All she had to do was ask one of the wilder characters of the camp a question. Having heard the story five times already and knowing that it was different each time, Amy asked, "Hotel Harvey, how come folks call you that?"

The old man rubbed his potbelly with both hands as he leaned back to get into story telling mode. He said, "Well, back in the old days the only way to get across the country with any kind of speed was to ride the railroads. This fellow by the name of Frank Harvey..."

Harry interrupted, "Fred Harvey. His name was Fred Harvey."

"Right, Fred Harvey opened up a chain of restaurants and hotels at all of the major stops of the Santa Fe railroad," he paused to see Harry's reaction. At his nod, Harvey continued, "These places were called Harvey Houses. Now a girl who wanted to get married but didn't have many prospects often went to work to at a Harvey House in some of the more remote locations in the belief that it improved their marriage prospects. They were called Harvey Girls and, for the most part, they were pretty ugly."

Shaking his head, Harry interrupted, "Most of the Harvey Girls were attractive."

"Hey, it's my great-grandmother we're talking about and she was one ugly bruiser. I know. I've seen her picture. Ugh, she was an ugly woman. In fact, I'd say she was buffalo ugly," countered Harvey. He gave a theatrical shudder as though to prove his point.

Amy laughed at the exchange. Sometimes when he told the story, his great-grandmother was the princess of the prairies and sometimes she was buffalo ugly. She said, "I thought you said that she was the princess of the prairies."

Harvey pulled his ear for a moment as he considered his reply. Finally, he said, "Well, you ever seen the prairies? They're pretty ugly. It ain't a complement to be called a princess of the prairies."

Everyone gathered around the fire pit laughed at the comment. Amy smiled and said, "Sorry, I didn't know that."

"That's okay. You're a pretty young woman and I wouldn't expect you to know that much about ugly."

"Amen to that," said Trashy Tracy.

"Now as I was saying, my great-grandmother was a Harvey Girl. Now the story is that she had the morals of an alley cat, but I find it rather hard to believe considering how ugly she was. Anyway, some smooth-talking salesman comes along and, for some reason, he knocks her up. I don't know how he could have done it. I mean, I've seen her picture. All I can say is that this salesman was a real piece of work. You know the kind that I mean. He probably came from Cleveland or some place like that."

"Cleveland?" asked Harry.

"Yeah, Cleveland," mused Harvey. He ran a hand over his unshaven face producing a noise like sandpaper on wood.

Harry shook his head while laughing at the storyteller. He knew for a fact that Harvey was from Cleveland. Unable to take it any more, he slipped away from the fire pit. Amy watched him go and turned her attention back to Harvey.

The old man continued, "So anyway, she's pregnant. Terrified at the prospect of living with such an ugly woman for the rest of his life, that fellow goes off and commits suicide. The result of that unholy union was my Grandfather."

"Suicide? You said that he was killed in a gunfight defending the honor of your great-grandmother," challenged Amy recalling a previous version of the story.

Harvey frowned for a second before he answered, "Well, that was just nice way of saying he killed himself. You see, in the old west you didn't commit suicide by shooting yourself. You went out and found someone to do it for you. Yes sir, you found someone to do it for you. Of course, a guy wouldn't shoot you for no reason. You had to find some reason to make him want to shoot you. So that fellow went out and claimed this gunfighter had besmirched the honor of my great-grandmother. Of course, the gunfighter shot him."

Amy couldn't help herself, she asked, "That was common?"

"Very common. Hell, more than half the people that died in gunfights in the old west were really committing suicide. It's a fact," answered Harvey as if he were an expert in the old west.

"Okay," replied Amy as Black George sat down in the chair next to her. She gave Harvey a look that said she didn't believe a word he was saying.

"Yeah, it was a sin to kill yourself. But if you did it that way, you could march right up to those Pearly Gates and honestly say that someone else killed you. No sin," he explained at the look that Amy gave him.

Red-nose George suggested, "Too bad you didn't live back then. I'm sure we could have found a half dozen gunfighters who would have been happy to put you out of your misery. That would save us from listening to your stories."

A number of people laughed, but Harvey just shrugged off the comment. He continued, "So anyway, the fellow who put the bun in the oven died. So that left great-grandmother all alone. Times were rough, but she was just too ugly to give up. After the normal nine months, she gave birth to my granddad. Named him Harvey after the hotel."

Trashy Tracy asked, "Now why in the world would a woman name her kid after a hotel?"

"Hey, if you were so ugly that no man wanted you, wouldn't you name your first born after the place where you were lucky enough to get laid for the first and only time in your life?" asked Hotel Harvey with a surprised expression on his face.

"Shit, you won't find me naming my kid 'Back Alley, '" Tracy snickered. Her comment caused a round of laughter.

"That's cuz you're still a virgin," countered Hotel Harvey with a wink in her direction.

Amy noticed that Harry was walking toward the shack with someone. Black George noticed her sudden attention and whispered, "I'll take care of it."

As Black George walked off, Amy asked, "So what has your grandfather being named Harvey have to do with you becoming Hotel Harvey?"

"Well, every male child after that has been named Harvey to remind us all of the shame that my great-grandmother brought upon the family. I'm the third Harvey of that line," answered Hotel Harvey.

Knowing the answer to her question, Amy asked, "I guess we know how you got to be named Harvey. So where does hotel come from in your name?"

"I don't know," answered Harvey straight-faced. As groans rose around the fire, he added, "Might be because of the story about my name. Of course, it might be the fact that every Harvey in our family was conceived in a hotel."

Red-nosed George laughed and said, "Every time you tell that story it changes. Maybe we ought to start calling you, Harvey Bad Story Teller."

Amy laughed at the exchange. When she noticed that the California Kid had joined them around the fire, she asked, "So Cal, how did you end up being covered with coal?"

"It's a simple story. If you want it told with a little color, I expect it would be best if Tubby told it," answered Cal as he winked at the large man taking a seat beside him.

Tubby stretched and moved as though he was warming up to do some serious work. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Well, this morning Cal and I went down to that artsy part of town to do a little begging. We aren't down there for more than ten minutes when this fellow sashays up to us. You know the kind of fellow I'm talking about."

The group of people around the fire nodded. Harvey commented, "Sorry, Tracy. That's another man that won't touch you."

"Harvey, you're another man who won't touch me and it ain't on account of a lack of desire on your part," she retorted as she plumped up her breasts.

"Oh, that had to hurt," exclaimed Red-nosed George nudging Harvey.

Black George returned and sat down next to Amy. The new person took a seat on one of the railroad ties in the back. Amy saw him sit down, but wasn't paying attention because Harry had returned to his spot as well. She couldn't see enough of the new person to determine if he was an infrequent visitor or a newcomer. Black George whispered, "He's taken care of, Miss Amy."

"Good," she whispered back.

Tubby let the comments settle down and continued his story. "Well, I figured that the fellow had designs on poor California Kid, so I was about to rent him out for ten dollars."

"Hey!" exclaimed Cal with mock indignation.

"Okay, I wasn't going to rent him out, I was going to sell him outright for twenty. Any way, the fellow asks us if we were interested in earning ten bucks an hour. Rather than assuming that he had indecent things in mind, I up and asks him what he needs," said Tubby.

"I asked him."

"Who's telling the story?" asked Tubby as if that made any difference to what had actually happened. Seeing Cal shake his head, he continued, "The fellow answers that he needs the basement of his new house cleaned out. We took the job. I figured that the Kid is young and could do all the work while I supervised."

Amy chuckled and leaned forward with a grin on her face. She said, "I'm sure you were willing to take the majority of the money because of the management decisions you would have to make."

"Sure. The Kid was just labor," agreed Tubby with a wink. The others laughed at the comment.

Amy sat back and ran a finger through her hair as she laughed. Since night had fallen, only the fire lit her face and it gave her features a softer and warmer look. Her grin was easily her most visible feature from across the fire.

Tubby continued, "So we get over to this guy's new house only to discover there was nothing new about it. It must have been two hundred years old if it were a day. When we get down to the basement, there's a hundred years worth of trash and stuff."

"There wasn't even enough room for Tubby to stand around and supervise. Poor guy actually had to work," commented Cal with a grin aimed at the large man beside him.

"That was the truth of it," said Tubby with a sad shake of his head provoking another round of laughter.

"We got about a third of the basement done and Cal discovers this little door against the wall. So he up and asks me what it is. Well, I tell him it is a door for midgets to use so that they can get to the other half of the basement."

Cal shook his head and said, "He really did say that. Stupid me, I actually believed him. So I ask why it isn't at ground level."

"I tell him that's because it's a circus midget door to the other half of the basement. They liked their doors off the ground so they could jump through it," said Tubby laughing as he talked. He pounded Cal on the shoulder while laughing.

"I believed him," said Cal as everyone else around the fire laughed at his gullibility.

Incredulous, Amy asked, "You didn't?"

"I swear I did. He said it with such a straight face that I believed him," answered Cal shaking his head. Even now he couldn't believe that he had fallen for it.

"We get back to work and soon most of the stuff is out of the basement. Because Cal is such a puny guy, I tell him to start sweeping while I carry the rest of the stuff to the curb. Every time I make a trip, Cal over here stops his sweeping and looks at that little door set in the middle of the wall. I can tell that he's real curious about it," said Tubby.

Cal interrupted, "Okay, I'll admit it. I was curious. I kept trying to figure out how a circus midget would use that door."

"After one of my trips, I tell him that if he raps the door real hard with the broom handle and then opens the door that it will stay open. It was built that way so the circus midget could jump through the door and get to the other half of the basement," said Tubby. He was having a hard time keeping himself under control.

"He carries another load to the curb and comes back. Now I'm not sure that I believe him at this point. The whole story just seems a little odd to me," said Cal.

By this time, Amy is anticipating what comes next in the story and is starting to laugh. Others around the fire are laughing as well. Tubby said, "So I suggest to him that he try it. Of course, I don't think he's actually going to do it."

"I hit that door with the broom handle as hard as I could and lifted the door. I hear this noise inside and stick my head through the hole to see what it is."

Tubby starts laughing as he recalled what happened next. Hardly able to control his laughter, he said, "A hundred years worth of coal dust comes billowing out of the coal chute. When he turns around, he's covered with coal dust and is blacker than old Black George here."

Cal shook his head and said, "I still can't believe that I believed that a coal chute was a door for a circus midget."

Amy was laughing so hard that she had to hold her sides. In some ways, Cal was still a kid at heart despite the street smarts that he had picked up. She could see him doing exactly what Tubby had described.

As she laughed, the man who had joined the group late peeked out and watched her. Lit by the fire, the look of joy and happiness on her face as she interacted with the homeless men around her made her look alive. She was the most beautiful sight that he had ever seen. He leaned forward and stared at her knowing there was no turning back. At that moment, he knew he had fallen in love with her.

As the laughter died down, Trashy Tracy said, "You ready, Harvey?"

"Sure," answered Hotel Harvey as he stood up. He walked over to Tracy and offered his arm. He asked, "What say you that we get a hotel room tonight?"

With a little swing in her hips, Tracy answered, "Good idea."

As they walked off, Amy chuckled and said, "The way they argue, it's hard to believe they're married."

Harry grinned and said, "The way they argue, they have to be married."

The crowd laughed at the exchange. Amy glanced over at Harry and realized he was wearing his special grin. She knew him well enough to know that grin meant he was up to no good. She asked, "Harry, what are you up to?"

Trying to look innocent, Harry answered, "Me? Up to something?"

She looked over at Black George and noticed that he was hiding his mouth behind his hand in a very uncharacteristic manner. She knew that if Black George was included in whatever Harry was doing, it couldn't be that bad. Looking back at Harry, she said, "Spill it Harry."

"Did I spill something?" Harry asked while he moved around looking as if he were trying to see if he had spilled something on the ground.

Laughing at the antics of the Druid, Red-nose George asked, "Is Harry playing a trick on you, Miss Amy?"

Before answering, Amy looked around the crowd. She almost missed him peeking around from behind Red-nose George, but his grin caused him to look again. Squinting, she looked at the man a third time believing that her eyes were playing tricks on her. Her breath caught in her chest and then she screamed, "Bill!"

Her boyfriend stood up and walked toward her as she scrambled to grab her crutches. Excited, it took her several tries before she caught them and then was able to get them in place after more fumbling. She stood up to rush to him, but he had already made it to her. She dropped her crutches and threw her arms around him.

Looking at the clothes worn by Bill, Red-nose George commented, "My, my. He's a real dandy."

Tubby said, "Nah, I'd say he's dapper."

The two men smiled at each other and, simultaneously, said, "He's Dapper Dandy."

Amy broke off her hug and, smiling at the name being given Bill, said, "He's my Dapper Dandy."

Laughing, Black George boomed, "So we now know who put the go in her cart."

"The sway in her caboose," suggested Harry.

"The giddy in her giddy up," contributed the California Kid.

"Isn't that gitty up?" asked Tubby scratching the side of his face.

"Don't think so," answered Cal with a frown.

While the two men argued good-naturedly, Amy took stock of her appearance. She was dressed in her camp clothes, old worn blue jeans and a sweatshirt. Her braces were worn outside the pants. The shoes were heavy black things with part of the braces threaded in the heels. Her hair was a mess. Even worse, she wasn't wearing any makeup. Feeling self conscious, she fussed with her hair trying to look a little better.

Bill noticed the attention she was giving her appearance and smiled at her misplaced vanity. He had seen her real beauty from across the fire. Turning her head to look up at him by holding her chin, Bill said, "You're the prettiest thing in all of Chicago."

"I'm all dirty," countered Amy.

"Yeah, you are," he agreed, proving it by wiping a little smug off the side of her face. It only endeared her more to him.

"What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't get you out of my mind and just had to see you. I couldn't wait until tomorrow," answered Bill and then he kissed her nose.

"You should have waited until I was more presentable."

Laughing, Bill answered, "And miss seeing you here? Never. I never saw a woman look more beautiful than you sitting here talking with these men."

Black George announced, "Gentlemen, I think our Dapper Dandy is a regular Casanova. He's sweet-talking her like he's got a tongue made of sugar."

"Speaking of sugar, have we got any coffee?" asked Tubby breaking off his argument with Cal.

Amy, flustered by Bill's presence, grabbed her crutches and said, "Stay here boys. I'll get out the hot chocolate."

Her announcement surprised Harry and he asked, "We stock hot chocolate now?"

Black George answered, "Miss Amy started bringing hot chocolate over for us to drink at night."

"Really?" asked Harry looking over at Amy. She continued to surprise him.

Amy made her way over to the door of the shack. Looking over her shoulder at the men around the fire, she smiled and said, "Be nice to him boys."

Red-nose George cleared his throat and answered, "We'll just have a little chat here with Dapper Dandy while you're doing your thing in the kitchen."

Unconcerned, Bill said, "I'll be fine."

Harry stood up from his seat and moved over to Hotel Harvey's cinder block. He knew Harvey wouldn't get upset about him using his seat, but didn't know how he'd react if he discovered Bill sitting in it. Sitting down on the cinder block, he said, "Use my chair, Bill."

Taking a seat, Bill looked around the fire. The friendly faces that had been interacting with Amy were gone. Grim men were examining him with hard looks on their faces. He glanced over at Harry and received a wink from the old Druid. He relaxed a little and looked back as Amy disappeared into the shack. Once she was gone, he looked down at the fire.

"You hurt Miss Amy and I'll hunt you down," said the California Kid in a very serious tone of voice.

Looking up at the young man across the fire, Bill said, "Excuse me?"

The young man started to repeat his earlier threat, but Bill interrupted, "I heard what you said. I want to know why you said it."

Tubby answered, "He only said what we are all thinking."

"What did I do?" asked Bill feeling nervous. He glanced over at Harry, but the old man just shook his head as if to counsel him to listen and learn.

"Miss Amy is an angel. She's the best thing around here," said Black George. Dropping his voice, he added, "No offense Harry."

"None taken," replied the old man with a humble nod of his head.

"You hurt her and there ain't a person here that'll forgive you," said Black George.

Harry interrupted, "Gentleman. Take it easy on him."

The California Kid looked over at the shack for a moment and then said, "Harry. I came out here when I was about fifteen. The first person who helped me was Miss Amy. She introduced me around and made sure the fellows were nice to me. I don't know where I'd be if she hadn't been there."

"Sure you do," said Tubby, "you'd be hustling."

Nodding, Cal said, "You're probably right, Tubby. I'd be on my knees sucking cocks for twenty dollars if it weren't for Miss Amy."

Listening to the exchange, Bill came to the realization that Amy had touched these men's lives in a very personal and meaningful fashion. He glanced over at Harry and saw the man nodding his head in agreement with Cal's statement. This was a tough world these folks lived in and few people reached out to help them without expecting anything in return. Two people here had done that, Amy and Harry.

Black George said, "Some of us have known Miss Amy for years. Most of the time, it's been like there's a weight dragging her down, but she's never let that stop her. Shit, she's got more reason to be down than most of us. Despite that, she always has a good word for us. None of us have ever been able to make her happy. Hell, we've never seen her this happy."

"You can say that again," interjected Red-nose George.

"We don't want to see her unhappy again. Do you understand me?" asked Black George.

Bill was about to answer that he was in love with her and that he would never hurt her when Harry said, "Gentleman, you're forgetting that he loves her."

Staring at the fire, Tubby said, "Shit, everyone of us sitting around this fire loved somebody, but the reason half of us are here is because we trampled all over that love. Don't tell me that love conquers all. Everyone around this fire knows that's bullshit."

Sniffing, Cal wiped a hand under his eyes and then under his nose. In a quiet voice, he said, "I don't believe it is bullshit."

Tubby put a hand on the boy's shoulder and, in a gentle voice, said, "I stand corrected."

"I don't know what I believe about love, but I only know what I feel. She's the best woman I've ever met and that scares me," said Bill realizing that it was the truth.

Amy stepped out of the shack and all conversation came to a halt. As she made her way to her seat, she announced, "The water will be hot in just a bit. You'll be able to go over there and fix your own hot chocolate. So what were you guys talking about while I was gone?"

"We were just telling Dapper Dandy how we all felt about the Chicago Angel," answered Tubby with a grin.

"Did Harry get you guys to start calling me that?" asked Amy sounding exasperated with the nickname. She shot Harry a dirty look that accused him of greater malfeasance.

Harry shook his head and said, "Nope. I heard about the Chicago Angel when I was in Miami. That was before talking to Ed."

'Chicago Angel' thought Bill. What kind of person was known around the country as the Chicago Angel? Having watched her dealing with the men, he knew the answer. Only a remarkable woman like Amy could have such a reputation.



-------

Chapter 5

Bill parked his car at the curb while Amy drove her car into the garage. Getting out, he walked to the garage and watched her struggle to exit her car. It was a complex process of swinging her legs out the door, getting the knees straight, locking the braces, and then sliding out of her seat while positioning the crutches so that she wouldn't fall over. He'd watched his father perform the same actions thousands of times.

It was hard not to notice him watching her. Stepping away from the car, Amy smiled over at him and said, "You should see me do that when I'm wearing a short skirt."

Bill laughed considering the magnificent view it would give him. He said, "I'm looking forward to seeing that some day."

"Pervert," she teased. The idea that he would be interested in looking beyond the metal of her braces secretly thrilled her. She closed the door of the car with a dull thump that echoed in the small garage.

His eyes traveled across her body. Her heavy shoes, the dusty blue jeans, the dull shine of the metal braces, and her wrinkled sweatshirt presented a figure that few would consider sexy. He didn't care what others might think, he thought she was the sexiest woman he'd seen in a long time. Pretending to be insulted, he protested, "It's not perversion to want to look upon loveliness."

"Black George is right. Your tongue is made of sugar," replied Amy with a laugh. She made her way to his side and stopped when he didn't move out of her way.

The two of them looked at each other, each feeling awkward. Bill, thinking it was time to make a move towards a good night kiss, broke the silence. "I've got to get a hotel room and should probably go."

Licking her lips, Amy debated the wisdom of inviting him into her house. She felt dirty and didn't want to ruin things, but she didn't want the evening to end. Hoping that she wouldn't regret it, she asked, "Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?"

Bill noticed her slight hesitancy in asking him to stay for coffee. It made him wonder if she was being honest about wanting him to stay. Smiling, he answered, "I'd love to, but I'm not sure it would be a good idea."

Hurt by his hesitation, she asked, "Why?"

"Because I might not want to leave."

"Oh," she replied. She hadn't considered that possibility. The idea that he might want to spend the night thrilled her, but she wasn't ready for the relationship to develop to that point. 'Still, ' she thought, 'a little while wouldn't hurt.' Softly, she said, "Please, come in."

"With pleasure."

Bill followed her into her house and then on to the kitchen. Once there, he looked over at her. She was trying to fix her hair and get a glimpse of herself in the toaster by using it as a mirror. Recognizing that she felt dirty and uncomfortable, he said, "Why don't you let me make some coffee for you while you freshen up?"

"Thanks, I think I'll take you up on that offer," she answered even as she turned. She fled from the room as fast as her crutches allowed.

He watched as she disappeared around the corner with a smile on his face despite the fact that it wasn't a graceful exit. She wasn't graceful. Her leg braces and the crutches assured that she wouldn't ever be able to walk away in a sultry manner that would grab the attention of most men. Despite that, he found her beautiful. She had no idea how amazing she had appeared to him while sitting around the fire pit. It was all he could do to keep from following her.

It was with little effort that he found everything necessary to brew a pot of coffee. As he searched for the coffee filters, he noticed that only the lower parts of her shelves were filled with items. It made sense since she couldn't reach the top shelf despite the fact that she was a tall woman. Climbing on a stool wasn't an option. It wasn't long before he had a pot of hot coffee. He decided they would probably drink the coffee in the living room. Filling two cups, he carried them out to the living room and set them on the coffee table next to the couch on which he had spent the night.

He settled on the couch hoping she would choose to share the couch with him rather than to sit in the other chair. Nervous, he took a sip of his coffee and nearly burned his mouth on it. He set it back down on the coffee table. Unable to relax, he stood and walked around the room checking out the paintings, the books in the bookshelf, and the knick-knacks scattered around the room.

A noise behind him caused him to turn around. Amy entered the room dressed in her fluffy pink robe. She had taken a bath and then put on her robe. She was about to sit in her comfort chair when she noticed where he had placed her coffee. Nervous as a schoolgirl, she changed her mind and went over to the couch. She sat down taking care to hold her robe closed. Looking up at Bill, she said, "I hope you don't mind that I'm wearing my robe. I didn't want to keep you waiting while I dressed."

"I don't mind at all," Bill replied returning to the couch. As he sat down, he smiled and added, "It reminds me of when we first met."

Amy giggled as she recalled that morning of almost four months earlier. As she replayed her memory of that morning, she found she was blushing when she came to the part where his erection slipped out from his boxers. To hide her embarrassment, she grabbed her coffee and took a sip. It was warm, having cooled while she had bathed. Getting herself under control, she said, "Oh yes. I remember that morning very well."

They talked through the night unaware of the time passing. The conversation was lively and without the kind of hesitation that often marred a first date. Each took turns learning about the history of the other. They occasionally teased each other, laughed at bad jokes, and discussed serious subjects.

Bill described how it was to grow up the child of a polio victim. He mentioned the ignorance of people and how their fears had affected his life. He talked about how people treated his father as if his crippled condition was contagious. Amy scooted down the couch to sit closer to Bill. She understood his story, having experienced similar treatment after her knees blew out on her.

Amy talked about the day when her life changed. One day she had been a young pretty woman with her choice of boyfriends and the next day she was damaged goods. Men stopped seeing an active young woman and saw a cripple. She had thrown herself into her education and, upon graduation, her career. As she talked, Bill moved closer to her and put an arm around her shoulder.

It wasn't until Bill noticed that it was light outside that they realized that it was almost eight in the morning. By then, Amy was curled up beside Bill with her head resting against his chest and his arm holding her close. Surprised to see that the sun had risen, he said, "Wow, I didn't realize it was morning already."

Looking at the daylight outside, Amy yawned realizing she was very tired. She considered the time and realized it was too late for him to check into a hotel. He'd have to wait until two in the afternoon before he'd be able to get a room. She stared down at the couch and considered her options. She could invite him to stay on the couch or invite him to share her bed. She knew which choice she preferred.

"I don't think I'll be able to get a room at this time of day. Would you mind if I stayed on the couch?" Bill asked after trying to suppress a yawn. The lack of sleep came crashing down on him. He was afraid that he'd fall asleep trying to drive to a hotel.

"No problem." Amy stood and started to head towards the closet to get some sheets and blanket for him, but paused at the door. She was so tired that the effort required seemed like it was just too much work for no real reason. She turned and looked at Bill for a second wondering if she could trust him. Happy Harry wouldn't have brought him to her if he represented any kind of danger. The months of telephone conversations and e-mail exchanges had brought about a level of trust that made her consider the impossible. Timidly, she said, "You could share my bed if you promise to be good."

He hadn't even kissed her yet, but she was inviting him to her bed. Heart beating in his chest, he said, "I promise."

Bill followed Amy to her bedroom. Once there, the pair stood nervously and, for the first time that night, neither one of them knew what to say. Finally, Bill broke the silence. "Maybe it would be better if I slept on the couch."

Rather than answer, Amy made her way to the bed and sat down. As she removed the braces, she answered, "Don't be silly. We're both adults and can control ourselves."

She was not as confident as she sounded. Her stomach fluttered as the first brace hit the floor. Once the braces had been removed, she turned off the light and removed her bathrobe while slipping under the covers of her bed. She hoped that he wouldn't see anything while their eyes tried to adjust to the sudden lack of light, but the room wasn't that dark. Bill blinked believing he had caught a flash of her naked body before the sheet covered it.

Bill stood in the room, dressed and wondering what he should do next. His cock had hardened while his imagination filled in details to what he had glimpsed. He didn't want to expose his erection, but he was tired and needed sleep. Nervous, and with fingers that didn't want to respond to his mental commands, he undressed. He dropped his shirt beside the bed not seeing a place to set it. He undid his belt and started to drop his pants before realizing at the last moment that he had failed to remove his shoes.

It was too late to prevent his pants from dropping down to his knees. He penguin walked to the edge of the bed while an amused Amy watched. It was hard to ignore the bulge in his boxers. Sitting down, he pulled off his shoes and socks while shaking his head at his stupidity.

Less than a five seconds after having removed his shoes, Bill was left wearing his boxers and ready to get into the bed. At the last second, he recalled the practice of bundling and chose not to slide between the sheets. Lifting the bed cover, he slid into the bed atop the covering sheet. This put a sheet between their bodies making if far more difficult for him to give into the temptations that flitted through his mind.

Unaware of his choice, Amy reached over under the sheet and was surprised to find it blocking her hand. Disappointment at having a barrier between them and approval at his obvious concern for her modesty fought for supremacy within her mind. Approval finally won out. Rather than comment on his chivalry, she said, "Good night."

"Good night," he replied while staring up at the ceiling wondering if he should kiss her goodnight. By the time he made up his mind, she was fast asleep.

It was late in the afternoon when Amy woke in the center of her bed spooned against Bill. The sheet was pulled down to her waist although the bed cover was up around her neck. Her nipples were hard little rocks. His hand rested on her waist. His erection was pressed between the cheeks of her ass, contact prevented by a thin sheet. She nestled harder against him and sighed. It was such a delightful feeling to wake pressed against a male body.

She wrapped her hand over his and placed his hand on her bare breast. She held it there as if she was afraid to let it go. She pressed it against her breast; the pressure against her hard nipples sending chills through her body. Her lower region became damp from anticipation of the consequences of her actions.

Bill woke, becoming aware of his surroundings in little stages. Realizing where his hand was resting, he tried to pull his hand away from her breast hoping not to wake her. She pulled his hand back to where it had been. As his awareness moved down his body, he realized where his cock was nestled. Afraid that he had moved across the bed in an act of unconscious aggression, he backed away and found himself falling off the bed. Startled, he yelped.

Unable to deny that Bill was now awake, Amy turned to look over the edge of her bed. Bill was sprawled out on the floor looking shocked. His boxers were tented with a morning erection. She giggled and said, "Get back in bed."

He picked himself off the floor and stood up. His erection was quite obvious to both of them. Flustered at the awkward situation, in which he had awakened, he said, "I'm sorry. I was asleep and didn't know what I was doing."

She giggled at his evident discomfort knowing that she was the one who had taken his hand and placed it against her breast. The tent in his boxers further demonstrated his discomfort. She lifted the sheet for him to slide into the bed. It wasn't until he had gotten into the bed when he realized a sheet was no longer separating them.

Suddenly, the humor of the situation made itself obvious to him. He started chuckling and said, "I've spent the night here twice and we've never even kissed. We haven't even had a date."

Although she recognized his comment was humorous, she also knew that it was true. She didn't want it to be true one minute longer. Amazed at the feelings raging within her, Amy said, "Shut up and kiss me."

The kiss started tentatively, but it heated up very quickly. Their emotions, fueled by the intimate conversation of the previous evening, shredded all restraint. Lips parted so that tongues battled, shaking hands explored bodies, and moans of desire filled the air. With his boxers pushed down to his knees, Bill found that he was atop her with her legs parted in obvious invitation. As his cock sought entry, the smallest sliver of restraint raised its ugly head. "Are you protected?"

"No," she answered feeling the head of his hard cock pressed against her entrance. Her stomach twisted at the thought of the consequences of her actions. She wanted to deny him entry, but she wanted him even more. More than a decade without the touch of a man made her defenseless to his caresses. Desire overwhelmed common sense. "Don't let that stop you."

In the most difficult act of his life, Bill, rather than pressing forward, eased down her body planting kisses as he went. When he reached the holy land, he took a moment to appreciate the view and to enjoy the scent of her excitement. With a smile, he extended his tongue and licked her swollen pussy. The taste was exquisite and he threw himself into the act with total abandon.

Finding herself in the totally unexpected position of having a man's head nestled between her legs and worshipping her pussy, Amy relaxed. She had never experienced any man who would control his passion to protect her when she had been weak. Trusting him, she gave herself over to the sensations created by his tongue.

When his tongue touched her clit, she experienced the best orgasm of her life. Unable to restrain her reaction, she gave voice to her pleasure. As her cries echoed through the room, her hands grabbed the sheet. In her passion, she nearly ripped the sheet from the bed. She collapsed onto the bed.

Upon recovering from her orgasm, years of denial of her sexuality crashed down upon her like a sledgehammer. It was as though she was drowning in a tidal wave of desire created by a decade of suppressed hopes and dreams. It was too much for her. She burst out in tears and curled into a fetal position.

Bill found himself hugging a sobbing woman. Confused, he held her tight to his chest and rocked her gently. Her total vulnerability tore at his heartstrings. Years of dating women who were more interested in his wallet than the man who carried it had made him cynical. Having watched her deal with the homeless men, he knew she didn't care about the wealth of others. The previous evening had breached his wall of cynicism and the bastion that was his heart had fallen under the assault.

When Amy finally stopped crying, she said, "I'm so sorry."

"Hush," replied Bill as he hugged her. He didn't understand what had caused her tears, but he wasn't going to let them take away the best thing he had ever found in his life.

For a long ten minutes, they lay in bed with him hugging her. He enjoyed holding her and she needed his embrace. Amy looked over at him and said, "You didn't come."

"That's okay." His erection had disappeared as his concern for her grew. From their discussion he understood that she had been lonely for a long time. It had to be tough to live for so many years without hope for a meaningful relationship. He guessed that her tears were a result of that rather than anything he had done.

"No, it's not okay," she replied while her hand headed towards his lap.

"Relax, we have all the time in the world," Bill countered while wiping a tear from her cheek. He felt close to this woman and didn't want to ruin the moment. It wasn't to be. His stomach chose that moment to growl. It wasn't a polite little noise, but a very demanding roar that was impossible to ignore. Any chance of romance was killed.

Giggling, Amy said, "I'd say we better feed that monster in your belly before it chooses to eat me in a more literal sense."

Unable to argue, Bill admitted to his hunger. Embarrassed by their nudity, the pair made their way out of bed. Amy threw on her bathrobe before putting on her braces. Bill pulled up his boxers before searching for his discarded clothes. Neither felt it was right to look, but they couldn't resist taking long peeks at each other.

They were quiet as they ate a hastily constructed late breakfast of bacon, eggs, and toast. Settling back in his chair once he had finished eating, Bill watched Amy take dainty bites from her last piece of toast. She noticed him watching her. The skewed grin on his face made her curious what he was thinking. Putting down her toast, she asked, "What?"

"I'm just enjoying watching you," he replied.

A smile grew on her face as she looked down at the toast. Picking it up, she turned it to and fro studying it. She looked up and said, "I'm wondering if I should eat this or save room for desert."

"Desert? What's for desert?"

"You," she answered and then licked her lips.

"Me?"

"Yes, you. Or more precisely, your come," she answered. She looked down at the toast and then stuffed it in her mouth.

Bill crossed his hands over his heart and groaned. In mock anguish, he complained, "She chose the toast over my love offering."

"Oh, God. Love offering? That was bad," said Amy. She laughed aloud at the suggestion of his come being his love offering. Using her crutches, she stood and locked the braces into place. She went around the table and looked down at Bill. As plans flitted through her mind, she couldn't find one that fit her purpose. Her eyes started to tear up again.

Looking up at Amy, Bill noticed the teasing mood transition to sadness. "What's the matter?"

Lower lip trembling, she answered, "I wanted to get on my knees and give you a blowjob, but it's going to take me forever to get into a kneeling position."

"Sit down." Bill stood and held out his chair for her. She sat down looking up at him still on the verge of tears. He straddled her legs such that his belt was at her eye level. "No need to get on your knees."

A smile of relief came over her face. She quickly undid his belt and pulled his pants, with boxers, to his knees. His cock started to get erect and he leaned against the table to provide him with additional support. Amy reached out to fondle his cock. Her touch was tentative as though she was afraid of it. It wasn't that she was afraid of his cock, but she was afraid that she had forgotten how to give a blowjob.

His partially erect cock grew in her hand. He let out a moan when her finger brushed the sensitive area just under the head of his cock. Seeing that she had remembered enough, she leaned forward and slipped his cock into her mouth. Upon hearing an encouraging groan of pleasure from Bill, she abandoned all propriety and threw herself into giving him the best blowjob of his life.

She sucked, licked, and swallowed his cock. Bill was defenseless under her assault and found he was soon on the verge of coming. With what little control remained, he grunted, "I'm going to come."

She redoubled her efforts on his cock, taking it deep into her throat. The last of his control was lost and he shot into her throat. When he had finished, he looked down to see her looking up at him while still holding his cock in her mouth. He knew that the sight would be forever etched in his mind.

"That was amazing," Bill said with a post-orgasmic shudder.

She backed away from his cock and licked her lips. A small smile of satisfaction came to her face and she said, "That was just a taste of things to come."

"I thought that thing was just a taste of come," Bill joked.

The play on words caused Amy to break out in laughter. Holding up her hands with a fake expression of horror on her face, she said, "Oh my God. I've fallen in love with a punster."

Bill had always believed that making love should begin with intimacy and desire and end with laughter (preferably without pointing at a certain body part). He was laughing until he heard her say that she had fallen in love. Suddenly serious, he reached out and brushed a hand against her cheek. The words came unbidden to his lips. "I love you, Amy."

Shocked by his sudden declaration of love, Amy looked into his eyes. For a moment, the world existed of nothing except his eyes. They were eyes that looked at her with love. Her heart filled with feelings she had denied possible for her. He leaned forward and kissed her.

Late Sunday evening, Bill packed his car while Amy watched. It was time for him to return to his home and it was a good thing that he had to return home. If he hadn't had a very important meeting the next day, they would both have skipped work for a week to spend it in bed. While Amy was surprised that they had managed to go through a box of rubbers in one weekend, Bill was stunned. A week at that rate would have left him a wreck of a man.

Closing the trunk of his car, he turned to look at Amy. She stood by the car, held up by her braces and crutches. He didn't see the metal supports, only the woman encased within them. She was a beautiful woman and he felt sorry for any man who couldn't see that. He knew he was lucky to find such a classy, intelligent, witty, giving, and loving woman. Stepping over to her, he said, "I'll be back in two weeks."

"I'll be here," she replied.

Bill thought about sending a message to the homeless men, but refrained. Smiling, he took her in his arms and then said, "Take good care of your boys."

She laughed before she replied, "They are a handful at times. Sometimes I'd swear they were all eight years old."

Although most men would be worried that the homeless men would hurt her, he knew from their protective words of that first night in town that they would watch over her. With dozens of eyes looking out for her, she was protected by them far better than he could. They not only cared for her physically, but put her happiness foremost. Grinning, he said, "Don't look through any midget doors."

Giggling, she playfully slapped his arm. "You're terrible."

It wasn't possible to delay his departure any more. He bent down and kissed her. The kiss rapidly increased in passion. Forgetting for the moment where they were, hands roamed over parts of the body in a manner that wasn't appropriate in public. They didn't care.

Saddened at the parting, Bill climbed into his car and drove away. As he navigated the unfamiliar roads, his mind was furiously trying to think of some way of moving closer. For the entire three- hour drive, he worked over the problem without coming up with a solution.

Amy had watched him drive away unable to believe the events of the weekend. When his car disappeared around the corner, she turned and made her way to the house. She considered her situation and the changes that she would make in her life. The first thing she added to her to-do list was to make an appointment with her OB/GYN to get a prescription for birth control pills. As much as she enjoyed the sex over the weekend, she couldn't wait to experience it without the rubber.

The second thing she added to her to-do list was to recover from the wild weekend. Her vagina had received a real workout over the past two days and she was sore. Grinning, she knew which to-do item she would do first. Entering the house, she admitted aloud, "God, I am sore down there. Too bad we didn't have enough time or rubbers to get me even more sore."

On Monday morning, Amy pulled into the parking garage while listening to the news on the radio. She was confused when it was reported that although the Chicago Stock Exchange had been open for five minutes, not one share had been traded. Curious, she parked her car and made her way to the building. As she made her way to the door, she was struck by the lack of noise around her. She pressed the button with the signature wheelchair symbol that opened the door and stepped into the atrium of the exchange building.

Two green robed Druids, two red robed Druids, one black robed Druid, and two students wearing the blue robes of the Druid College were talking together in the center of the atrium. Brokers skirted around them assuming the worst. More than one person entered the building, saw the Druids, and then left. Looking over at Druids, Amy understood why no one had executed a trade since the opening of the exchange. Everyone was waiting for the Druids to do something.

"You're late."

Amy recognized the voice and shook her head. Louder than necessary in the uncharacteristic silence, Amy called back, "What are you doing here Harry?"

The group of Druids headed towards Amy. Suddenly, the noise level on the floor shot up to its normal levels when people realized who was the subject of interest. The black robed Druid said, "First make-over in history to cause the market to drop fifty points."

Her comment was greeted with laughter within the group, but Amy stood in place looking puzzled. To no one in particular, she echoed, "Make-over?"

The red-robed male looked over her and said, "All of that metal has to go."

"Definitely we'll be able to get rid of those crutches," commented the red-robed woman.

Amy listened to the Druids discuss her as if she wasn't present. One of the blue-robed students asked, "She'll be my mentor?"

"Yes," answered Harry.

"Mentor?" asked Amy. The gathering of Druids ignored her question.

The woman wearing a green robe knelt down beside Amy. Before Amy had a chance to react, she had lifted Amy's skirt to mid-thigh. Prodding the calf, she said, "Good muscle tone. I was worried about that."

"We'll augment it," said the red-robed woman.

"I'll have to do a galvanometric study. We'll know more once I've done that."

"You're right."

People were staring at the Druids gathered around Amy and it made her nervous. She slapped the hand that was holding up her skirt and asked, "What are you doing?"

"Checking out the goods," answered the woman.

The woman wearing a black robe said, "You're right. She's a good woman through and through. I'll be more than happy to take care of her charges while she's gone."

"Gone?" asked Amy getting worried. She wondered what they had planned for her.

"We don't have much time. Can you get it done in ten days?" asked Harry.

The two red robes and the green robe answered together. "Yes."

Finally tired of the attention, Amy shouted, "Hold on a minute! Who are you? What do you want with me?"

Surprised, Harry looked at Amy for a moment and then answered, "I'm Harry. This is Catherine and Peter. They are both makers. They'll be working with Laura to develop a new brace for you. The young woman in the black robe is Kristie Prevatt. She's my replacement."

"Don't call me that. You're irreplaceable and you know it," said Kristie with a smile. She turned to Amy and said, "He's been calling me his replacement ever since he helped me develop my abilities."

"A new brace?" asked Amy. Her mind was still on what Harry had said.

Ignoring the question, Harry turned to the two blue robes. Gesturing to them, he said, "This is Carlie and Sydney. They are sixth year students at the Druid College studying economics and business respectively. Carlie is your intern and will do your job while you're gone."

"Intern? Gone?" Amy wondered if she had entered the twilight zone somehow.

"Let's get to it everyone!" Harry's call to action resulted in the others turning and leaving without a farewell. She was alone with Harry and Carlie.

"Where's everyone going?"

"The ones working on your brace have gone to set up a workshop. It will be ready for you tomorrow. Kristie is going to the Homeless Hotel," answered Harry. He started to turn and then added, "Take your intern upstairs and show her your job. I'll pick you up in the morning."

"You'll pick me up in the morning?"

"Sure."

"Don't I have a choice?" asked Amy.

"Nope. It's too important. You have to do it."

"I don't understand," complained Amy. She was reminded of a time when she was a little girl of about six and her mother had told to sit with her legs together while wearing a dress. She had not understood why it was necessary until much later.

"They've been working on exoskeletons for the military and realized that they could use the same concept to replace leg-braces like yours. In a discussion of who would make a good candidate for experimentation, your name came up."

"Exoskeleton? My name?" She wondered if she had lost the ability to understand English. She wondered why Druids were talking about her. It troubled her that she couldn't identify what she had done to attract such attention.

"See you in the morning!"

Still confused, Amy watched Harry leave the building. For almost a full minute, she stood in place wondering what she was supposed to be doing. A tug on the sleeve of her blouse captured her attention. She turned to look at Carlie.

Carlie said, "Isn't it amazing? The whole market is down by sixty- eight points because we were waiting for you to get here."

Sighing, Amy said, "I guess we ought to go up to my office and get you settled."



-------

Chapter 6

Standing in the center of the hotel room, Amy managed to keep her balance and looked around at her surroundings. She was standing in what had been the living room of the best suite of a major hotel. It wasn't recognizable as such any more. The room had been transformed into a machine shop and laboratory. The couch and chairs had been pushed against the sides of the room. Worktables had been added. One table was loaded with machining equipment. Another table was loaded with electronics. A third table was loaded with tools.

Amy tried to take a step, stumbled, and then fell to her knees. The kneepads cushioned her fall so she wasn't injured. None the less, she was frustrated at having ended up in the same position for the hundredth time. Concentrating on what she was doing, she rose to a standing position. She was getting good at that after all of the practice she had gotten. If only she could figure out how to walk with the new braces. Losing a bit of her cool, she said, "I'm never going to be able to walk with these stupid things."

"Maybe you need to learn how to crawl before you walk," suggested Peter. He knew the sensors were working correctly and the actuators were functioning properly. They might need a little tweaking to get them tuned properly, but they were close enough for her to walk.

Angry, Amy stepped forward and dropped to her knees once again. When her anger was about to overwhelm Amy, Laura, with a wink, said, "You know, Bill is going to love that move, but I imagine you're going to get tired of giving blowjobs."

The comment was so unexpected that Amy burst out laughing uncontrollably. Her anger and frustration dissipated. It amazed her how Laura always found the right thing to say when she was reaching her breaking point. Catching her breath, she said, "I doubt he'll be able to perform a thousand times a day."

Catherine laughed at the retort and knew Laura had said the right thing. Laura was a firm believer in the old adage that laughter was often the best medicine. She said, "You know. I think Peter has a point about learning to crawl first."

Nodding, Laura realized the problem was that Amy was sending the wrong commands to her muscles. She was trying to move as if she were wearing her old braces. Rather than trying to move her legs forward, she was trying to swing her legs around. It was the swing that caused her to lose balance. She said, "Your muscles have learned patterns appropriate for your old brace. You're swinging your legs out rather than moving them in a normal walk. That's okay when you're wearing your old braces and using your crutches, but you aren't wearing them now."

Amy gave in and tried to crawl. She found that with each slide forward, her knees were getting further apart. She stopped and adjusted herself so that her knees were closer together. She realized what she was doing and said, "You're right."

For the next four hours, Amy crawled around the room like an infant. At first, she kept finding her knees would become spread in an obscene manner. With practice, she slowly achieved a normal crawl. As she made a circuit around the room, she thought about crawling under the dining room table to give Bill a blowjob. She recalled when she had wanted to give him a blowjob and had been unable to get into position. Now she was concerned that she'd never get out of that position.

"I think that is enough for now," said Laura seeing that Amy was tired.

"Thanks," said Amy realizing only at that moment just how tired she had become. She crawled over to a chair and climbed into it. Settling into the seat, she crossed her legs without thinking about it.

After a few seconds, she looked down and saw what she had done. She hadn't been able to cross her legs without lifting them into position since the day that her life had changed. She'd never been able to do it while wearing her old braces. Overcome with emotion, she said, "I crossed my legs."

Not understanding the significance of the act, Peter shrugged and said, "Okay."

"You don't understand. I haven't been able to cross my legs since my knees blew out." Amy stared at where her legs crossed. As she thought about it, she realized that she was going to be able to act in a more feminine manner. If she'd master these new braces, she'd be able to walk across a room, sit down, and cross her legs like a normal person.

Catherine understood and said, "Your life is about to undergo a major change."

Amy worked up the courage to ask the question that had been bothering her. She didn't feel that it was right for her to be the one chosen for the honor of receiving these braces. There were others more deserving. Looking at Laura, she asked, "Why me?"

"Even angels occasionally require a minor miracle," answered Laura making reference to Amy's nickname that had been bestowed upon her by the homeless she had helped. Laura took a seat on the couch beside Amy and held her hand.

Sitting down on a chair by the table on which the jeweler's lathe sat, Catherine said, "You help others without asking for anything in return. We kind of identify with that sentiment."

"I haven't done anything special."

Laura laughed and then said, "Ed Biggers told me that you did lots of things that were special."

"Ed?"

"You remember Ed Biggers. Cowboy in a black robe who's stuck with telling the truth all of the time. He can't even tell a tall tale. That must be torture for a cowboy." Catherine grinned as she waited for Amy to give a nod of recognition.

"He and I worked together for a little while, but I don't remember doing anything special while he was here."

Laura said, "One night he asked you to join him for dinner and you turned him down with a lie. When he asked if he had upset you, you told him no and that was the truth. Well, that got his attention so he followed you. You'd never guess what he discovered. His little helper was out helping the homeless by bringing them food and clothes."

"He followed me?" Amy didn't know what to think of that.

"Of course, he did. He was investigating some stock manipulation crimes and wanted to know that you weren't being used by some unscrupulous individual."

"He suspected me?" asked Amy shocked at the suggestion.

"Not for a minute. He suspected everyone around you, particularly anyone who he hadn't met," answered Peter from his seat at the table with electronics. Absently, he played with a couple of resistors that were on the table.

"How do you know that?"

"He told Harry and Harry told us," answered Laura.

Although she knew it was a stupid question, she asked, "Why would he tell Harry?"

Laura answered, "Ed tried to find out what he could about your knees. He had hoped that his wife would be able to correct the problem. When it was discovered that your problem was congenital, there was nothing he could do for you. So he decided to let Harry help you out with your mission."

Amy had heard that part of the story before from Harry. Curious, she asked, "Do you guys talk about people like me very much?"

Although the question wasn't very specific, Peter understood what she was asking. He answered, "Ed likes to rescue women from bad situations. He was quite disappointed when he discovered that he couldn't do more for you. You've been a special case for a while."

"Oh," replied Amy. It wasn't a comfortable feeling knowing that you were a subject of conversation among the most powerful people in the country. She stood up and started to pace across the room trying to make sense of what they had told her. She wondered what kinds of things they knew about her. She stopped and looked at Catherine to ask a question.

Catherine, Laura, and Peter were watching Amy with broad smiles on their faces wondering how long it would take her to realize that she was walking without the aid of crutches. Amy looked from one person to the next curious about the expressions on their face. "What?"

"Nothing."

Amy turned and took a step towards the couch she had abandoned. At that moment, she realized why they were looking at her. She screamed, "I'm walking!"

Black George watched the man walking towards the shed. He knew he should recognize him, but he couldn't make out enough details to distinguish him from others who visited there. It didn't matter, who ever it was, he'd offer him a bunk and, after a little work, a hot meal. He went back into the shed to check on the big pot of chili that was slowly cooking.

"Black George?" asked Bill hoping he had the name correct.

The black man turned and looked at Bill standing at the door. Close up, he was able to see enough features to recall the identity of his visitor. "Dapper Dandy! I'll be. What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for Amy," answered Bill wondering what it would take to get rid of that nickname. After a moment of reflection, he decided that he'd have to do something pretty awful and he'd not want the nickname that would result.

"Druids took her." George turned back to face the stove.

Bill grabbed Black George by the arm and tried to turn the man to face him. Despite his failure to budge the man, he asked, "Who took her?"

Black George looked down at the hand on his arm and then at Bill. Getting the message that it would be best to unhand the man, Bill released his arm. Frowning, Black George answered, "The Druids. You know -- the guys in the robes. They took her to perform some experiments on her."

Concern for his girlfriend overcame his reason. Angry, he shouted, "You let them take her to be the subject of some mad science experiment? What is wrong with you? Where in the hell can I find these Druids?"

A throat clearing from behind him got Bill's attention. He turned to find himself facing a black robed Druid. She looked at him carefully and then said, "You won't find us in hell. We tend to avoid it as much as possible."

Black George chuckled at her line about hell. He'd been about to shake hands with Bill and welcome him to hell. He decided that her line was better. He listened on the conversation knowing that he'd have a good story to tell around the fire tonight.

Bill stared at the Druid for several seconds and then repeated his question. "Where's Amy?"

"She's busy and will be unable to see you until Friday night, Bill."

"I want to see her right now!" He didn't notice that she knew his name. He was more concerned for Amy. The previous Monday he had called and she'd been very distracted. That was the last he'd heard from her. His calls to her house on Tuesday went unanswered. He had tried again on Wednesday with the same result. Thursday he'd called her office and left a message with some young woman who had answered the phone. Amy never called him back. Friday had been more of the same.

"You can't see her right now, she's busy. However, I've brought someone here to keep you distracted until Friday. I'd like to introduce you to your new intern, Sydney," answered Kristie while pointing to a young woman wearing a blue robe. She was 5'4" and built like a cheerleader with long blond hair that reached the middle of her back. Her eyes twinkled with amusement at the exchange.

"The only one I want distracting me is Amy," said Bill insulted by the suggestion that he take up with the young woman. His voice took on a low threatening tone when he said, "If you've hurt Amy, I'll hunt down and kill everyone of you."

Kristie studied Bill for several seconds. He was strong willed and a good man. His concern for Amy was pure. She replied, "You would do that. I find it rather touching that you'd sacrifice yourself that way for love."

"I don't think he's ready to be my mentor," said Sydney surprised by the suggestion that he thought she was being offered as some sort of sexual diversion. She didn't expect her practicum to start with this kind of scene.

"He's worried about Amy. I suppose there's only one thing to do."

"Right. Take me to Amy."

"We'll have to stop by a jeweler's to pick up a ring so that he can propose to her Friday night."

It was not what he was expecting to hear. "Huh?"

"A man who's that much in love with a woman is eventually going to propose to her. Might as well make it sooner than later," said Kristie as she took him by the arm. She sighed and then said, "I'm sure there's a jeweler near here who's open on Saturday."

Bill stumbled as she led him away from the homeless hotel and to his car. Sydney followed them after waving farewell to Black George. The black man shook his head and returned to his work preparing dinner. After thinking about it for a minute, he looked up and stared out the door of the shack. In a quiet voice that conveyed immense sadness, he said, "We're gonna loose Amy. Dapper Dandy is gonna steal her from us."

The Friday night crowd was quiet as they watched Amy walk around the fire pit at the Homeless Hotel. Gone were the clunky metal braces and the arm crutches. A spider web of some black plastic material that hugged her legs had replaced them. Amy paused and asked, "What do you think?"

For nearly half a minute no one answered her. Finally, the California Kid, in a resigned voice, said, "We're happy you can walk real good now."

The reaction was not what she had expected. Curious why they weren't happy she could walk, she asked, "What's the matter?"

None of the men answered her. They all stared into the fire as if there was something very interesting going on within the flames. The air was filled with a sullen, almost bitter, feel. She looked around getting angry that they were not happy for her. Putting her hands on her hips, she shouted, "What's that matter?"

It was Bad News who finally answered her. He'd gotten that nickname because he was usually the only one who had the heart to deliver bad news. Staring woodenly at the fire, he said, "Now that you can walk, Dapper Dandy is gonna marry you and take you from us. We's happy you can walk, but losing you is almost more than we can take."

A voice came out from the dark surprising everyone. "You're right. I'm gonna marry her if she'll have me."

Amy spun to see who spoke. Off balance, she fell to the ground. A dozen hands reached out to pick her up. It was Black George who led her back to her chair. As Amy sat down, Bill approached and dropped to one knee. Holding out a ring, he asked, "Will you marry me?"

Amy stared at the ring in shock. The men, their worst fears being realized, stared at the fire hunched over as if in pain. She couldn't believe that he was asking her to marry him. Despite knowing there would be problems, there was only one answer that she could give. Hand trembling, she reached out to touch the simple gold band. Softly, she said, "Yes."

There was a pained groan from the men around the fire. Leaning forward, Bill kissed her. She returned the kiss with passion even as tears of happiness gathered in her eyes. For the moment, they were only aware of each other.

When they broke off the kiss, Bill stood and faced the circle of unhappy men. Not one man looked at him. Their happiness for Amy conflicted with their feelings of loss. More than one man entertained thoughts that weren't exactly legal or gentle. If it wouldn't have hurt Amy, they'd have beat him where he stood.

In a voice that carried around the fire, Bill said, "I've been working this week to move my business to Chicago. Amy won't have to leave or give up her life here. I imagine that she'll be here long after you guys have found homes."

The past week had been busy for Bill. His intern, Sydney, had worked out a scheme in which he separated the manufacturing part of his business from sales and administration. The sales and administration teams were going to move to a new location in the outskirts of Chicago while manufacturing was going to stay where it was. The move would allow him to expand his manufacturing facilities into the freed up area. It meant that he was going to have to travel rather frequently between the two sites, but the plan she had laid out was sound and would improve his ability to grow the business.

The California Kid looked up at Bill once he realized what the man had said. Tears streaked his face forming little light tracks that contrasted with the ever-present thin layer of dirt. In a voice that cracked, he asked, "Why would you do that?"

Understanding for the first time just how fragile some of the people who stayed at the Homeless Hotel were, Bill answered, "She loves this place as much as I love her. There's no way I could take her away from here and live with myself."

A wave of relief washed through the men gathered there. The relief was palpable. All anger disappeared. It was Hotel Harvey who said, "That Dapper Dandy sure can sweet talk even when he's talkin' to us."

His comment broke the men's reserve and they swarmed Amy. She found herself surrounded by happy men congratulating her on her new legs and her upcoming marriage. Their comments were real and heartfelt.

Standing in the dark shadows, a small cluster of Druids looked at each other and smiled. Each of them appreciated a job well done. Unnoticed by others, all but one member left as a group to return to their regular duties. After watching his fellow Druids leave, Happy Harry made his way to the fire pit. As he entered the circle of light, he said, "Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a wedding to plan. Why don't we let the newly engaged couple go off and celebrate while we get to work?"

The homeless gathered around Harry and the volume of noise rose considerably. It took less than a day for the news to spread to every shelter, soup kitchen, and flophouse in the city. In less than a week, the news had spread to both coasts and north to Toronto. When a date was set, the great pilgrimage to Chicago began.

With a suddenness that was almost shocking, Amy and Bill were left alone after Harry's announcement. Amy smiled and said, "Let's go home where we can celebrate."

As they walked to the car, Amy asked, "What do you think of my new legs?"

"I'm kind of disappointed," answered Bill with a grin.

Amy froze and stared at him wondering how he could say such a thing. Shocked, she asked, "Why?"

"Now when I chase you, there's a good chance you'll get away," he answered. The tension melted away and she hit his shoulder a little harder than she intended. It made a resounding thawk in the darkness. He complained, "Ow!"

"You're horrible!"

"Yep."

"You're incorrigible!"

"Yep."

Wiggling the finger on which the ring had been placed, she said, "You're mine."

"Yep and happy because of it."

Amy giggled and returned to walking towards the car. She said, "You know, these legs are pretty good. I can do all kinds of things now that I couldn't do before."

"Like what?" asked Bill. He hadn't really had a chance to check out her new legs. He looked forward to getting her alone where he could explore her new legs as well as the more interesting parts of her body.

"Oh, I can get on my knees and give blowjobs."

"Come to think of it, I'm beginning to like your new legs a whole lot more," he teased. He remembered when she had wanted to do exactly that and her emotional reaction when she realized that she couldn't.

"I'm going to be able to experience all kinds of sexual positions that I couldn't before. I'll even be able to be on top of you." Even describing the new possibilities caused her to get a little wet between the legs. She couldn't wait to try out all of the possibilities.

"I beginning to love your new legs." His arm, which had been around her shoulders, moved down so that he could cup her ass.

She started to lose her balance, but recovered with a little help from him. Although she had been practicing with them for almost a full week, she was still getting used to her new legs. Surprises tended to cause her to lose control. She said, "Sorry. It's going to take a little time to get used to them."

"Hey. People trip and fall all the time." He pinched her ass and was rewarded with a nice little scream. He had to catch her before she fell.

When they reached her house, clothes flew in random directions as they allowed their excitement free reign. The new brace did not interfere with their lovemaking in any manner although her first orgasm nearly launched her across the room. Over the next few days, she took every opportunity to get on her knees and give him a blowjob. They both enjoyed the benefits of her new legs.

Half of the high school football field was filled with shopping carts of all sizes and shapes. The other half of the field was filled with cinder blocks, milk crates, and stools upon which filthy men and woman sat. The stands, designed to hold close to five thousand people, were filled. Only a handful of the people seated wore suits or fancy dresses and they were in the section set aside for family. The well-dressed guests tended to stare at the slovenly mass of people seated around them. There were notable exceptions among them, namely individuals who knew and worked with the homeless.

The parking lot of the school was filled with roach coaches of every size and description. Volunteers, who had come from churches located all over the country, staffed tables laden with food and coffee. They'd been busy for the past three days feeding the men and women who had drifted to Chicago.

A cameraman, with a television reporter, was trying to find an appropriate place to film the proceedings. If it turned out to be a slow news day, the wedding would make good filler material. It wasn't often that so many of the poorest in the country gathered together in one place. It was even rarer when some of the richest people in the country were seated next to them without complaint.

Amy was in the locker room getting into a simple white dress. Her mother, emotional at the fact that her daughter was finally getting married, tried to help, but kept breaking out into tears of joy. Carlie, her intern, served as Maid of Honor and had taken charge of getting Amy ready for the ceremony. She had been the only logical choice since Amy had been overwhelmed by offers from the bag ladies that frequented the homeless hotel.

Happy Harry was leaning against the concession stand wearing his green robe and carrying his shepherd's staff. Beside him stood a very nervous Bill. Bill was wearing a sport coat, a compromise between the Tuxedo consistent with the expectations associated with such event and the blue jeans that would have been appropriate around the homeless. Looking over the crowd, Bill said, "It's hard to believe how many people she's helped."

Even though half of the attendees were there because it was an event, a good percentage of them knew Amy. A dozen years of feeding and clothing the homeless had allowed her to influence the lives of a lot of people. Harry looked over those he considered his people with affection and more than a little pride that they had chosen to come here to honor Amy. He asked, "Any wonder why we took an interest in her?"

"None. She's an amazing woman," replied Bill feeling humbled by the scene around him. He looked up at the sky amazed at the weather. The temperature was cool, but not so cold as to be uncomfortable. The sky was a clear blue without trace of a cloud anywhere. Even the infamous Chicago wind had been tamed to a refreshing breeze. It seemed to him, based on the weather, even the Gods and Goddesses were smiling upon their wedding.

Under the guidance of Sydney, Amy's mother left the locker room to make her way to the stands where she had a reserved seat in front of the small platform on which the ceremony was to be held. Rounding the corner, she saw the crowd of people gathered for the wedding for the first time and stopped short in shock at the sheer number. She turned to Sydney and asked, "Who are all these people?"

"Most of them are homeless."

"Why are they here?" she asked puzzled by the presence of so many unwashed people.

"Amy has helped all of them. They've come to celebrate her happiness," answered Sydney with a smile. Seeing the incredulous expression on the other woman's face, she added, "Your daughter is known around the country as the Chicago Angel."

Amy's mother had despaired for years about the fact that her daughter hadn't had a boyfriend ever since her injury. She had not known of Amy's activities, believing instead that Amy was spending her time hiding from life in the barren comfort of her apartment. Lame excuses for not attending family holiday celebrations suddenly made sense. Still not sure that she believed what she was hearing, she exclaimed, "You're kidding."

Sydney pointed to the stands and said, "Over there is the team who developed her new brace. The red robed woman hanging onto the brown robed man is Catherine. She's married to Oliver. He's the one in the brown robe and is head of the Druid organization. That man over there is Ed Biggers. He's the head of those who serve the Two-Sided One, but he's representing the Fusion Foundation."

"I hadn't noticed all of the Druids," she said. The thought that the Grand Druid was attending her daughter's wedding was staggering. She didn't know how to react to the news.

"Cardinal O'Reilly over there is the head of the Catholic Church in North America. Seated beside him is a representative from the Vatican."

"Vatican?" Shocked, she looked at the priests huddled together in one area of the stands.

"Yes, the Vatican. Your daughter doesn't even know the impact that she's had."

The pair resumed walking to the stands to take their place. Harry noticed and said, "It's about time for this show to get on the road."

Walking to the small platform was a nerve-wracking experience for Bill. Unused to crowds, the sheer number of people was overwhelming. Lightening the mood, Harry started marching like he was leading a parade. The homeless, all of them well familiar with Harry, laughed at his antics. Even Bill relaxed when the attention of the crowd was transferred to Harry.

An expectant hush fell over the crowd when Bill and Harry stepped onto the platform. Everyone knew that it was time for Amy to make her appearance. Bill and Harry turned to watch for her to emerge.

Amy walked out of the locker room to make her way to the small platform on which the ceremony was to be held. Rounding the corner, she saw the crowd of people gathered for the wedding and stopped short. Hands trembling, her hand rose to cover her open mouth as tears welled up in her eyes. She couldn't believe the number of people who had showed up for the ceremony. She had assumed that Harry had planned it here so that the homeless at the shelter would be comfortable. Eyes scanning the crowd, she couldn't believe how many people she recognized. So many people and she knew most of them.

While her attention was on the crowd, Bottle Cap limped over to her. He limped as a result of toes lost due to frostbite. A scar creased his cheek; the result of a brutal beating by some drunk kids having a little fun one Saturday night. After hesitating for a second, he said, "Miss Amy. You're supposed to have something borrowed with you when you marry. Would you like to borrow this?"

She looked down at his hand and saw that he was holding out a bottle cap for her to take. Touched beyond words, she nodded her head and accepted it. In a voice that trembled with emotion, he said, "That's my lucky bottle cap. It's the only thing I have that means anything to me, but I figure you should have it for this day."

Bottle Cap edged away feeling nervous about having given up his lucky charm, but happy that he could contribute something to the ceremony. It was a rusty old thing, at least twenty years old, and the paint had worn away from years of handling. He'd had it for as long as he could remember and had credited it with all of the good events in his life. One of those events included the night Amy had saved him from freezing to death.

Tears in her eyes at the gesture, she croaked something that sounded a lot like, 'thank you.' Overwhelmed by emotions, Amy was barely aware of being led to the platform and exchanging vows with Bill. Even Bill had difficulty talking when it came time for him to speak his vows. Happy Harry was smiling so broadly that his face started to hurt. The only one who wasn't overwhelmed with emotion on the platform was the Minister.

The wedding platform wasn't the only place where emotions were running high. Whiskered men and worn women, hardened by years on the street, wiped eyes during the ceremony. One of their own had found happiness and allowed them to share in it. It was such a rare occasion on the street.

Before Bride or Groom realized it, the ceremony was over. When the Minister shouted that they were man and wife, the crowd let loose with a loud roar. For a moment, it sounded like the home team had won the state championship. With eyes only for each other, the newlyweds kissed. Throughout the kiss, the crowd repeatedly shouted, "Amy!"

A swarm of people descended upon the newlyweds. Amidst the chaos of happy words and tears, Bottle Cap hung back, anxiously watching her. Amy noticed and gestured for him to come over. She handed the bottle cap back to the very relieved man; giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek in the process. Harry noticed the exchange and recognized what had happened. He went over Bottle Cap. "That was a nice gesture Bottle Cap."

"She's a special lady, Harry." Bottle Cap, embarrassed at being noticed, looked down at the ground and nudged a patch of grass with his toe.

Harry looked at the horizon for a moment as though pondering something great. He looked over at Bottle Cap and then said, "I need an assistant to help me in the roach coach. Are you interested?"

Bottle Cap stared at Harry and then nodded his head. In a soft voice, he said, "I'd like that a lot."

"Let's go. There's a bunch of folks that need feeding." He led the way to the roach coach. Bottle Cap followed pleased to be of help to Harry. It wasn't often that he was the person doing the helping.

It took almost two hours for Bill and Amy to make their way to the parking lot. They ended up at the table set up by the Wooden Spoon. Mike and Gail greeted the couple with hugs and kisses of congratulations. When she finally had a chance to say something, Amy said, "You shouldn't be working here, you're an invited guest."

"Are you kidding? We're not working," answered Mike with a wink. Even though he was the CEO of a major investment company, he never forgot the lesson Harry had taught him so many years ago.

Gail smiled and gestured to the crowd around the table. "We're having a party with a few of our friends."

Looking around at the huge number of people in the parking lot, Amy asked, "Any one ever tell you that you tend to understate things a bit?"

The group laughed. Mike pointed to another stand about thirty yards distant and said, "Stop by Richard's set up over there for some coffee when you're done eating. I'm sure he'd like to see you."

After his tour with Harry, Richard had started driving through streets, alleys, and abandoned construction sites in an old van. On the cold frigid winter nights common in Chicago, he'd hand out cups of coffee and coats to anyone who needed them. During the summer, he'd deliver bottled water and mineral tablets to help stave off the effects of heat. He felt it wasn't much, but it was the best he could do.

Hours passed as the couple moved through the crowd. It was exhausting, but the good kind of exhaustion that came greeting friends. They made sure to sample items at the various food stations while talking to those who had volunteered their time. Finally, aware that even the best times have to come to an end, they made their way to their car.

When they reached the parking lot, Amy noticed Johnny walking away from them with his wife and two kids. He was the driver of the bus she used to take and she hadn't seen him since the night he had dropped her off at the site of the homeless hotel. She called out, "Johnny."

The man turned to see who had called out for him. A smile grew when he realized that it was Amy. He was pleased that she remembered him. "Hello Amy."

Amy went to him and gave him a big hug. She whispered in his ear, "Thank you. You always watched out for me. I can't tell you how much I appreciated it."

Turning to his wife, she said, "Your husband played a very special role in my life. He took me where I was needed and made sure that I was picked up afterwards. I felt a lot safer knowing he was watching over me."

Hearing words of praise by someone so well respected, Johnny's wife looked at her husband in pride. Others might see nothing more than a bus driver, but she knew the man and loved him. She said, "He's got a good heart."

Smiling, Amy said, "And that heart belongs to you. I've never met anyone so proud of his wife. I've wanted to meet you for such a long time to let you know that you're a very lucky woman."

As Johnny's wife hugged her husband, Bill looked at Amy knowing that he was the lucky one there. Amy was remarkable woman and he knew it. Energetic and attractive, she was modest beyond belief. Kind and caring, she loved in the purest way possible. He loved her with his entire heart and soul. How could he not love her -- she was an angel.


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The End
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Posted:  2005-08-06
Last Modified: 2005-08-10 / 05:22:23 pm
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