However, agreeing to keep his distance and actually doing it was proving harder to do than he'd thought.

He stalked to the door, grabbing his old work jacket from the hall closet. Stepping out onto the small porch, he stared in dismay at his pride and joy. The Riv slumbered under at least six inches of snow, not counting the foot or more that blanketed the ground. A bitter north wind whistled down the street ruffling the surface of the snow and creating fairytale castles in the drifts that had grown to almost bury the Riv. He was going nowhere soon. Sighing in defeat, his shoulders slumped and he retreated to the warmth of the Vecchio house promising himself to dig out the Riv when the day had warmed a bit.

Little did he know that it would be two days before he could liberate his car.

Phil straightened and closed the oven door. Two potatoes sealed in aluminum foil sat beside the covered roaster. The aroma of roast chicken filled the kitchen and slowly permeated the rest of the apartment. A green salad chilled in the refrigerator. Glancing at her watch, she mentally calculated the time left before dinner would be ready. Although he would never say so, after two days of soup and soft food she knew that Ben was ready for a change. Satisfied that dinner would be ready on time; she untied her apron and draped it across the back of a barstool.

The table was set, waiting only for the food and the diners. Tilting her head to one side, Phil contemplated the table. The votive candles and holly created a festive display. Still, something wasn't quite right. She strolled around to the other side of the table and stared at it. Puzzled, her brow furrowed. What was it that disturbed her thoughts? Her eyes slowly rose from the table and slid across the room to the door to her bedroom. Was something wrong with Ben? He had seemed better, although tiring easily. He had lain down to rest only an hour ago. What could have happened in that short amount of time?

Something drew her to the bedroom. She hastily approached Ben's sleeping form. No, the fever had not returned. What was it that had called to her, disturbed her peace of mind? She sat on the edge of the chair by the window and glanced around the room. The closet drew her. No, the box in the closet drew her. It called to her. The memories enclosed in it beckoned her. She finally surrendered to its siren song and dragged the box out. Retrieving the key, she quietly carried the box into the living room. She spared Ben a glance glad to see that he still slept.

Opening the box, her hand unerringly reached for the letters. She settled onto the floor and Chance claimed his usual spot in her lap. She read each and every letter. Now she sat with the last one cradled against her breast and rocked herself. Her eyes were closed but no tears streamed down her face. She had already shed more than enough tears over that letter even though it still had the power to totally devastate her. It brought back such painful memories that Phil pressed a fist to her mouth to stifle a moan of despair. How could she let Ben back into her life after he had hurt her like he had?

Quickly, she folded the letter once more and placed it within its envelope. Glancing at the door of her bedroom, she contemplated tearing the letter in half and throwing it away but stayed her hand, placing the letter back with the others that Ben had sent her all those years ago. No, she wouldn't let old memories control her actions but she also knew that old habits died hard. Somehow...some way...if they were to reclaim their lost love...she would have to put the past to rest and not let it dictate her actions. Still...

She glanced once more into the box. The stuffed animals stared up at her with reproachful eyes as if to say, "What about Lindy?" Yes, what about her? Phil's eyes slid from the box to the photos on the wall settling on the large image of Lindy in the red dress--the red velvet dress with the lace collar--the dress she'd been buried in. Unbidden, the memories rushed back.

Phil clutched the baby quilt to her breast, unconsciously chewing on a corner of it. She stared the length of the room towards the cubicle where doctors and nurses frantically worked. The tiny form was swallowed by the gurney upon which she lay like a rag doll that had been carelessly tossed aside. A deathly chill invaded Phil's soul as the efforts to revive her daughter continued. She knew even before the doctors stopped that it was too late. Lindy had died at home in her crib surrounded by the stuffed animals she had loved.

One of the doctors approached. His movements appeared exaggerated as if time had slowed to a crawl. Others in the emergency room moved at a snail's pace, sounds seemed muffled, the lights overly bright, and one small, unmoving child on a green draped gurney. What the doctor had to say, Phil was never able to recall. She could never remember how she came to be seated next to that green draped gurney, Lindy in her arms.

"Hush little baby, don't say a word. Mama's gonna buy you a mocking bird." The words came haltingly around the lump in her throat. Phil cradled the tiny body in her arms and rocked her daughter one last time. "If that mocking bird don't sing, Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring..." The lullaby shuddered to a halt as the tears finally began to flow. "If that diamond ring turns to brass, Mama's gonna buy you a looking glass..."

Phil gazed longingly into the face of her daughter. A finger traced the bridge of the tiny nose and brushed the half-closed lips. Kisses decorated the smooth planes of Lindy's forehead and cheeks. Her eyes, though, were the hardest to endure--eyes like her father--eyes that were now dimmed and lifeless. The tiny hand no longer clutched her finger and sunshine no longer sparkled in her sweet baby laugh. The chill of death had replaced her baby warmth. A raw and primitive grief overwhelmed Phil as her mind fixated on that.

"Lindy? Lindy, honey? You're so cold. You've never been cold. Lindy? Lindy? Please don't leave me. What am I going to do without you? Come on, Lindy...wake up! Wake up! Please, honey; wake up for your mama. Please, baby...please, Lindy..." She buried her face in Lindy's hair, her body shaking convulsively.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. McKenzie, but it's time." The same doctor that had approached her earlier now stood beside her, a nurse at his elbow. The nurse reached for Lindy and it was then that Phil realized that they had come to take her away.

"No," Phil cried and hugged her daughter closer.

The nurse stepped back, sharing a glance with the doctor. "Take all the time you need, Mrs. McKenzie. The autopsy can wait." The doctor paused then spoke once more, "Does your husband know? Is there any family that we can notify?"

"No, no one," Phil whispered into Lindy's hair.

Half an hour later, Jason Weller stood over Phil. The doctor and nurse stood close at hand. "Phil, let the doctor and nurse take care of Lindy now. There's nothing more you can do for her." His voice shook as he tried to offer some comfort.

How they finally managed to convince her to part with Lindy was simply one of the many things that happened during that time that Phil could never recall. All she knew was that she was once more at home and Jason was calling her brothers.

The next two days were a haze of deep despair and denial. Her daughter couldn't possibly be dead. She found herself going into Lindy's room to check on her only to find the empty crib and the realization would hit once more that her daughter was gone. First Rob then TJ had arrived to help her through these days. How could they possibly help? Lindy was gone. There was nothing they could do to change that. There was nothing anyone could do. There was really no one who could understand what she had lost. The only person that could had deserted her long before Lindy had been born.

Rob and TJ made the funeral arrangements and it was only when they were discussing where to bury their niece that Phil shook off some of the fog she'd retreated into.

"No! I won't have Lindy in that place with its manicured lawns and paved walkways and statues. No, Lindy deserves nothing less than a resting place that is beautiful--filled with the chirping of birds and the wind in the trees."

"Flip, we need to make a decision now. If you don't want the city cemetery, which one do you want?" TJ asked.

Phil strolled over to the large patio doors and leaned against their icy coolness. Staring out across the snow covered meadow to the mountains in the distance, her mind winging back to that summer over two years earlier. How she'd loved him and thought he'd loved her but he'd lied to her. She should have listened to her head instead of her heart.

"Phil?" Rob queried as he came up behind her and placed hands on her shoulders. Turning her around to face him, he stared down into her face. "Are you all right?"

Phil licked lips that were dry and nodded her head. Sighing deeply, she shifted in his embrace and faced the mountain vista once more. In a voice devoid of warmth, she spoke, "There's a little cemetery on the way to the trailhead to Thunder Basin. I've always thought it was such a beautiful, quiet place. That's where I want..." She swallowed convulsively before continuing, " That's where I want Lindy to be."

The funeral was a brief affair. All of Phil's friends were present to lend their support and strength. The results of the autopsy circulated quietly among them--SIDS. Even the doctors didn't really know why Lindy had died. It seemed so unfair. Phil had been through so much from Ben breaking their engagement to the death of their child. She'd survived the first but they wondered if she could handle the second.

Phil, flanked by her brothers, approached the small white casket. Lindy lay within dressed in the red velvet dress Phil had made for her. Her baby fingers were entwined with the ribbon streamers from the bow that graced the lace collar. A slight blush to her cheeks gave the impression that she was simply sleeping.

Each in turn leaned over and placed a final kiss on the tiny forehead. TJ placed the stuffed wolf that he bought on one of his trips to Canada into the casket beside his niece. Lindy had loved the wolf and would not go to sleep without it.

"Be at peace, little one," he whispered then turned to follow Rob and Phil.

The gravesite was like a ragged wound in the earth. The brown soil contrasted starkly with the white of the snow. The many flowers were already showing the effects of the cold. Phil placed the pink rose bud on the casket, saying a final farewell to her daughter. Turning away, she retreated to her Blazer followed by her brothers.

Rob drove the winding road back to Phil's house. He glanced frequently at Phil and traded glances with TJ in the rearview mirror. Conscious of what was going on, Phil spoke, "I'm okay. I'll get through this. It will just take a little time."

"We're worried about you, Flip," TJ leaned forward as he spoke.

Phil smiled wanly. "I know you are and I don't know what I would've done without you these past few days." She bit her lower lip before continuing, "But...I know you have lives of your own and you need to get back to them. I'm okay...the shock has worn off and I think I can deal with it now."

The brothers shared a look of concern. Although they had their misgivings, they both returned to Chicago two days later leaving Phil to adapt to a life without Lindy. They both vowed to return and spend the Christmas holiday with her. There was no way they would let her endure that season alone.

Jason was a frequent visitor. He'd never forgiven Ben Fraser for abandoning Phil and was resolved to be there for her if she needed him. If anything good had come from the short affair with Fraser, it had to be the softening of Phil. That shell that she'd hid behind was gone and Jason had discovered facets to her that he'd not known before. If Ben hadn't already stolen her heart, he might have made a play for her himself. But Ben was gone and Phil was desperately lonely now--even more so with the death of her daughter. If he played his cards right maybe he could make her forget Ben Fraser and if not, then be the friend she so desperately needed.

Phil rubbed her eyes as she continued to pen this last letter to Ben. Even if he no longer loved her she felt that he deserved to know that his daughter had died. She knew she was being vindictive but no longer cared. She hated him for what he'd done to her and to their daughter. What did it matter to her if he experienced a small portion of the pain he'd caused her? It served him right. She quickly signed the letter and sealed it in an envelope. Not even bothering to grab a jacket, she hurried to the mailbox and placed it within, raising the red flag for the postal carrier. There...it was done--the final chapter of the Ben and Phil saga.

Closing the door behind her, she tread the hallway to the kitchen amazed at how empty her house sounded. She opened the refrigerator and checked the contents. She could make herself a sandwich if she wanted. She stared into the depths of the refrigerator finally reaching to the far back corner and withdrawing a bottle of beer--TJ's or Rob's--it really didn't matter. Neither one was there to scold her for drinking their beer. She snorted. Their beer? She knew they had bought it to replace what they'd consumed of her supply. On a whim she descended to the lower level and threw open the cold storage cabinet she'd installed there. Heineken, Moosehead, Corona, XX, Olympia--she prided herself on having a good stock of beer for the gatherings that had become common at her house. She snagged two bottles of Corona and two Oly's then used her foot to shut the door of the cabinet.

Climbing the stairs, she skirted the sofa and settled on the floor in front of the television set. As a bottle was consumed, Phil sent it rolling across the room. Soon the room was littered with beer bottles of various colors. Trip after trip was made to the cabinet on the lower level. In the fellowship of the bottle she found mind numbing release from the grief that had been her constant companion for the past week.

She didn't know when she first realized that she was no longer alone. Maybe he'd been there all along and then maybe he'd just appeared. Whatever...the man in the red serge uniform now towered over her with a disapproving look on his face.

"What? You never had a beer or two?" Phil paused and listened for an answer. "No, I guessed not. Too good for it. Well, I don't care!" Defiantly, she raised the bottle she held in her hand and drained it. Still the man did not speak.

"Why don't you just leave, you sonofabitch! I don't need you. It's too late to say you're sorry." She struggled to her feet and staggered toward the man. "You weren't here when I needed you and I don't need you now. Get the hell out of here before I call the police." Still the figure did not speak.

"Don't you hear me?" Phil screamed. "I don't love you any more, Ben. Everything I had of you died with Lindy. I hate you!" She hurled the beer bottle at the apparition. It shattered against the wall sending glass shards everywhere.

"I wish the hell I'd never met you. I wish I'd let you fall off that cliff. I hope your precious whatever-her-name-is dies so you can feel what I'm feeling. I hate you, Benton Fraser. I hate you and I never want to see you!" Phil looked wildly around the room for something else to throw at him. Her eyes widened with delight when they landed on the porcelain hummingbirds he'd given her. Her feet wavered as she stumbled toward the table they set upon. She did not see the bottle that her foot landed on. All she knew was a momentary disorientation as she lost her balance and a split second of pain as her head impacted the corner of the table. Darkness engulfed her as she collapsed in a heap surrounded by empty beer bottles.

Jason had found her after she had not answered her phone. He took her to the hospital where the doctor in the emergency room stitched the gash in the back of her head and admitted her to the hospital. Her blood alcohol level was high enough to concern him and the danger of a concussion was enough to keep her hospitalized for three days for observation.

The aftereffects of her evening of dissipation would continue to haunt her for many years. She could no longer drink with impunity--a beer or two and she was looped, losing control of herself--and that was something she never wanted to experience again. She never wanted to go through what she'd experienced since Ben Fraser had entered her life. Why was one man allowed to wreak such havoc on another person's life? Well, she'd learned her lesson the hard way. She would never allow another person to get that close to her again. She could not lose another loved one the way she'd lost first Ben and then Lindy. She wasn't that strong.

Ben awakened once more. This time he knew where he was. He was in Phil's bed, but where was she? He lay there for a few minutes, listening to the sounds from the other room. He heard Phil's quiet voice and Dief's whine. He was content to just lay there and listen to the soft conversation between Phil and the wolf. He smiled. This is the way it should be ...should have been...would have been if only he had...

He shook himself. No sense dwelling on what might have been. He was here and Phil was here. That was all he needed. That was all he had ever needed. Why hadn't he realized that years ago?

Dief padded into the room and approached Alpha Male. *Woof*

"Good evening to you, too, Diefenbaker."

*Whine*

"What is it?" Ben eased himself up until he sat on the side of the bed. He looked toward the door. "Phil needs me?"

Dief raced to the door and turned to stare at him.

"I'm coming." Ben reached for the sweats pulling them on as he slowly rose and walked to the door. He was still shaky but he could manage on his own. He leaned in the doorway searching for Phil. He couldn't see her. He heard a soft shuddering sigh and he slowly approached the sofa. He saw Phil huddled in her favorite chair, rocking back and forth. She was crying. He weaved slightly as he came around the sofa and heard Phil whisper "Lindy..." He dropped to his knees and took her into his arms holding her close as his tears mingled with hers, sharing her grief for their daughter.

Phil held Ben as he sobbed out the remainder of the grief he held in his heart. Her tears joined his as she stroked his hair and whispered words of comfort. Gradually the sobs decreased and with a sigh, Ben lay with his face pressed to Phil's breast. He listened to the steady beat of her heart. Now he understood the security that Phil had claimed his heartbeat gave her. Just listening to the steady pounding beneath his cheek was enough to calm his fears.

Long minutes later Phil rose and helped Ben to his feet. She settled him on the sofa then went to the bedroom returning with a blanket. Draping it around Ben's shoulders, she apologized, "I'm sorry, Ben. I didn't mean to disturb you."

"Don't apologize, Phil. There's no need to." He took the blanket and wrapped it around Phil's shoulders as well and drew her close to him. It felt so good to be able to do that again. Especially when she laid her head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. He glanced at the box on the floor; the letters scattered about it.

"Phil?"

She lifted her face and gazed at him.

He motioned to the items that littered the floor. "What?"

Phil looked at the contents of the box strewn across the floor. A wave of sadness washed over her. "That's my box of memories. Everything that reminded me of you went into that box." She paused. "I hadn't opened it in years ...not until last summer when you..."

"When I came back into your life?"

"Yes..."

Ben gently kissed the top of her head. "I have a box, too, Phil. It's smaller, but it contains my memories of you. It has gone with me everywhere that I went. No matter where I was you were always with me." Phil smiled and snuggled closer to Ben's solid frame.

It felt so good...so right to hold her in his arms once more. And this would not be the only time it would happen--not if he was given that second chance his father had mentioned. Second chances...a chance to be whole again...to never be lonely. He sighed.

"What is it, Ben?" Phil lifted her face to gaze into his. There was a hint of concern in her question.

"I was just thinking of the fight I have ahead of me."

"Getting back on your feet after this virus?"

"No...getting you to trust me again."

"Trust?"

"Yes, trust. Without trust, love can't live. I lost your trust...no, I betrayed your trust, your love. Maybe..." he swallowed, "...maybe, if I can earn your trust..." He stared into the depths of her eyes. "...maybe I can find your love again..."

"Maybe..." Phil wasn't making any promises. He would have to earn her trust. She didn't know if she would ever reach the point where there would be no doubts, but that first night of Ben's illness had eased many of her fears. She knew he loved her and...he was the one talking about earning her trust. She knew he was an honorable man. Trust meant something to him.

Ben smiled as he read the thoughts behind the emotions playing in the depths of her eyes. He was thankful that she could not mask those. His breath stilled as he caught a glimpse of the one thing he thought he had lost forever. Was it possible that Phil still loved him? After all these years ...after all he had put her through? But, yes the look she caressed him with was the same one he had basked in all those years ago. It was going to be a fight all the way, getting her to trust him again. But then, it had been a fight to get her to trust him the first time. Getting to know Phil all over again presented such a multitude of possibilities, he was suddenly grateful that some things never changed. He smiled in anticipation.

Suddenly Phil jerked. Her eyes wide with concern, she sprang to her feet. "My dinner!" she exclaimed as she raced to the kitchen. Within minutes, Phil had dinner on the table and Ben seated at the head.

This was the first meal he'd had that wasn't in bed or on a tray. It felt good to sit at a table and enjoy the meal placed before him. After several minutes of eating, the wall of photos that faced him captured his attention. Even from here he recognized several of the photos. Many were unknown to him and several he could guess at. Motioning toward the wall, he invited Phil to explain them to him.

"I got the idea from Cat," she finally said. "Martin helped me hang them this past spring." Pointing to the uppermost tier of photos, she began describing them to him. Ben learned much about the intervening years by listening to her discourse.

Time passed and finally Phil rose, gathered dishes together, and carried them to the kitchen. Picking up his plate, Ben rose from his place and followed her. Phil glanced over her shoulder motioning him to place the plate on the bar.

"I can handle the dishes, Ben. You don't want to over do it now that you're beginning to feel better."

Ben nodded his head in acknowledgement. Truth be told, he was tired. He mentally cursed his weakness but immediately regretted it. The weakness was what was keeping him here in Phil's home. He should be thanking it for giving him an excuse to remain here with her. Returning to the dining area, he approached the wall of photos. His eyes quickly scanned across the photos of her brothers. It was an awakening experience that left him reeling. Rob had a beautiful family. He could have had a family as well if only...his eyes sought out the one of Lindy. He felt a wretchedness of mind he'd never felt before. He could have had a family and been surrounded by their love if only he hadn't selfishly taken back his and given it to a woman with no soul. His broad shoulders heaved as he breathed.

He dragged his eyes away from the photo of Lindy focusing instead on the ones of the men in Phil's life. He recognized Jason Weller of Rocky Mountain Rescue. He must have been there for her during Lindy's brief life. A muscle quivered at his jaw. An emotion that he'd little experienced gnawed at his soul. He recognized it as jealousy. He pulled his eyes away as he fought his own demons finally settling on the photo of Travis Hunter. He'd already heard that story from Travis himself. There were several other photos of the Hunters including one with TJ, Phil, and Carol. Several recent Grand Canyon photos were there as well, featuring Ray and himself. There were also a couple of photos of Lloyd Hope including a group photo that Ben recognized as a family photo of the Hopes. What surprised him though was the presence of Phil and her brothers in the photo. How did the Hopes and the McKenzies come to know each other? He knew about the relationship between Phil and Lloyd, but where did her brothers come in? Stepping back, his eyes quickly scanned the others finally settling on a photo of Phil and Casey that could have only been taken in Thunder Basin. Questions arose and he set them aside to be answered later.

Returning to the other photos, he smiled at a photo of Lloyd and Cat. There was no mistaking the happiness and contentment that shone from their faces. They truly had found their soul mates and Ben was happy for them. He knew what it felt like to find that one special person. He glanced over his shoulder toward the kitchen and the woman busily working there.

Returning to the photos, he recognized several more of the group at Rocky Mountain Rescue, several more family photos, a photo of Phil with a tall, darkly handsome man--"That must be Martin Stevenson," he thought again feeling a twinge of jealousy. Lastly, he noticed, tucked away amidst the photos, a small photo of himself. He didn't recognize it or when Phil had taken it. His mouth curved in an unconscious smile. For some odd reason, he felt a surge of joy and his mood seemed suddenly buoyant. His eyes drifted back to the men in Phil's life. Although still a bit jealous of the part they had played in Phil's life; he mentally thanked them for caring for her in his absence.

"Find anything interesting?"

Startled, Ben guiltily glanced over his shoulder. "I didn't hear you," he hedged.

"You were too engrossed in my past," she said, a trace of laughter in her voice.

Ben ducked his head, running a thumb across his eyebrow. "That's okay, Ben, if I didn't want people to see my photos, I wouldn't have placed them on the wall."

Ben's eyes drifted back to the wall seeking out the one of Phil and Casey. He pointed to it before asking, "Casey?"

"That's a long story, Ben," she said as she steered him away from the wall. "Let's get you situated then I'll tell you that story and any others you might want to hear."

"Do any of your stories take exactly two hours to tell?" he teased.

Phil stared at him then burst out laughing. She wiped her eyes before replying, "No, Ben, you still hold that honor."

The evening passed as Phil told Ben about her family and how the Hopes and the McKenzies became so close. Ben, in turn, told her about how he and Ray had met Casey.

"Isn't it strange how the people we care for are being drawn into the same extended family?" Phil mused. "Who would have thought that one of my boyfriends would fall in love with one of your girlfriends? You have to admit that that is weird, Ben."

"No more than Ray and Casey," Ben countered.

"True," Phil agreed. "I just wish they could get together. Casey really loves Ray just as I know that he cares for her. Have you ever seen two people with such a messed up relationship?" Ben quirked an eyebrow and Phil chuckled. "Present company excluded," she amended.

"I don't anyone can approach the mess we've created but Ray and Casey certainly run a close second."

Phil nodded her head, stifling a yawn. Stretching, she sighed deeply. "I don't know about you, Ben, but I'm about ready for bed."

Ben brightened.

"No, Ben, you misunderstood me. Until we figure out what we want to do with our relationship, I can't afford to become intimate with you. There's too much at stake and I don't want to cloud our thinking with our hormones." She rose to her feet. "I'm sorry, Ben, I want you as much as you want me but...I can't handle the additional strain that would place on us."

"Understood, but that doesn't stop me wanting you." His gaze dropped from her eyes to her shoulders to her breasts.

Fighting her overwhelming need to be close to him, she turned away from his gaze. "Why don't you go on to bed while I take Dief for a walk. I'll wash those sweats when I get back." Not waiting for an answer, she rushed to the coat closet pulling forth her green woolen coat. Calling to Dief, she opened the door and left.

Ben stared after her, the hunger burning in his eyes. He knew it wouldn't be an easy prospect but she was worth the effort. He rose to his feet, dismayed by how weak he felt. He stumbled to the bathroom, took a quick shower, and crawled into bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

A sense of expectancy had settled over the Moose Jaw RCMP depot. The phones were mostly silent; ringing infrequently to alert the officers of trouble on the snow packed roads. Several of the officers on duty were gathered in the break room, drinking too much coffee and waiting for something to happen. The Mounties working the day shift had no way of knowing if the heavy snow would bring a complete lack of activity on the roads or a spate of serious accidents. The waiting was beginning to wear a little thin.

With a third cup of coffee in hand, Constable Marchand left the jovial conversation in the break room and returned to his work area for a spot of research. For the past month or so, he had spent whatever time he could reading over numerous outstanding cases in the RCMP database on the off chance that he might be able to shed some light on them. So far, he had not had much luck.

Marchand closed the file he had been reading and rubbed his eyes. An interesting case but one that had gone unsolved for three years. Surely there was something there that would help him solve the crime--a spate of car thefts over the span of five months then nothing. It was as if the car thieves had set up shop for awhile then moved on to greener pastures. He opened another file and began reading the report. A blast of cold air rocketed across the room sending the report flying off the desk. Marchand retrieved the report then rose to his feet as the front door was firmly shut by a petite snow-frosted figure. The figure turned to face him, snow falling from her hat.

"Constable Fraser!" Marchand recognized the woman and came from behind his desk to cross the room. "How nice to see you again. Is Sergeant Madden expecting you?" He recalled the Sergeant saying something about Becka not being there until tomorrow.

Becka stared at Marchand with a wicked twinkle in her eyes. Placing a finger to her lips, she spoke in a quiet voice. "I had a chance to get away earlier so I took it. Cat's not expecting me until tomorrow. Is she in her office?"

"Sergeant Madden has the day off, Constable." Marchand gestured to the phone. "I'll call her so she can come and get you."

Becka raised one hand, dislodging more snow from her shoulder and backpack. "No, I hate to do that." Cocking an eyebrow, she leaned closer to Marchand. "Do you think I could find a Good Samaritan around here? Someone who would be willing to drive me out to Riverhurst? Or maybe I can find myself a dogsled or something..."

Marchand shot from behind the counter and cut Becka off, flicking his eyes up and down, taking in the wet boots and snow covered pack. With a feeling of deja vu, he asked, "Did you walk from the airport, Constable Fraser?"

Ducking her head slightly, Becka grimaced. "The lines were just too long and I got tired of waiting. Besides, I enjoyed the walk." She briefly wondered if she should tell Marchand that she was no longer a Mountie but the thought fled as Marchand reacted as predicted.

Sighing heavily, Marchand clapped a hand onto her shoulder. "Wait here, Constable. I'll see what I can do for you."

Becka regarded Marchand for a second and then smiled as she nodded her head. Marchand rushed to the break room, explained the situation to Sergeant Dixon, and came back two minutes later to lead Becka to the car park and into the RCMP cruiser. For the second time in less than a week he found himself driving a Fraser the 35 km to Riverhurst to keep them from walking the distance to Cat's house. He knew for a fact that if that happened, Sergeant Madden would never forgive him.

Becka was grateful that Constable Marchand was in the mood for small talk. She enjoyed discussing the hard winter that seemed to be settling in; the fantastic display of Aurora Borealis that had occurred the past two nights; and the pathetic showing of the Leafs so far that year. They even briefly touched on the local curling championship that was currently underway.

The route from Moose Jaw to Cat's home in Riverhurst was familiar to her, as familiar as the route to her father's cabin. She knew every cottage, farm and tree along the way. She even knew some of the people. She smiled as they went by the Dann family's wheat farm. The Dann's had been at it again. This time the house had been repainted a jaunty green. The oak trees Ben had helped plant in Mrs. Baptiste's driveway stood as bare skeletons against the white of the fields behind them.

She saw the turn off that led out to the reservation where Jimmy and Sara Sunsinger lived. She recalled Ben telling her about the kitten he had found and how the kitten had eventually led to Cat entering their lives. She remembered the kitten Cat had named Laura and was saddened when she recalled the death of the cat that had found a place in each of their hearts. That thought led to thoughts of the other deaths that had affected her small family--Cat's parents, her father, and, inevitably, her thoughts turned to her brother and the death of his small daughter. Did he know? Had Phil told him?

"Everything OK, Constable Fraser?" Marchand asked, speaking for the first time since the conversation had dwindled as the road worsened.

Becka nodded tightly and fixed her gaze on the passing scenery. A moment later, she shook off the dreary thoughts and turned to face Marchand, a falsely bright smile on her face. "You can cut the 'constable' crap, Will. As of three days ago, I am no longer a part of the force."

Will's startled looked was lightning fast as he glanced at her then back at the road. "What?"

"I quit."

"You what?"

"I quit."

"But you're a...a Fraser. Frasers never quit if I'm to believe Sergeant Madden."

"Well, let's just that that the RCMP and I have come to a parting of the ways and I chose to take that other 'way.' Things were never quite the same after Ben rescued me." She paused for a moment wondering why she was telling Marchand her life story. What the hell! It wasn't as if it was classified information. "I guess I just got tired of trying to prove myself when nothing I could ever do would accomplish that. I can do without that kind of hassle, thank you, and I'm glad I quit. I don't know, Will, I feel like a burden I didn't know I was carrying has suddenly disappeared."

Marchand glanced at Becka once more before speaking. "Have you made any plans yet? I mean, what are you going to do now that you're no longer a Mountie?"

Becka shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know yet, Will, but something will come along. I believe in running with the tide and the tide is pulling me in some direction other than the RCMP. I just have to trust my instincts to know when I've found what I'm looking for."

"Well, I wish you the best of luck, Consta...uh...Becka," he quickly corrected.

"Thanks, Will. I really appreciate it."

"Are you sure about this, Ben?" Phil asked as she turned her car into the driveway of the Canadian Consulate and drove past the hunkering mansion. She got as far as the garage complex before reaching the end of the shoveled driveway. The drive from the garages to Ben's cottage was impassable. "I guess this is as close as I can get to your place, Ben. We'll have to walk from here."

"I'm feeling much better, Phil, and I really do need to go home," Ben said as he waited for her to bring the car to a stop and shut off the engine.

"It's only been three days, you might have a relapse. I think you should stay with me a couple more days...just to be sure."

"I'm fine, Phil, really I am. Besides, you could always stay with me," he replied letting hope lift the timbre of his voice.

"Ben!" Phil exclaimed with exaggerated surprise. Glancing sideways at him, she suppressed a smile as Ben leered at her. "You're a sick man, Benton Fraser, a sick man," she finally answered. "And don't give me that wide-eyed Mountie look 'cause it doesn't work on me. I know you too well."

Ben dragged a thumb across his left eyebrow. "It was worth a try," he admitted.

Phil grinned slightly. "Shall we make the hike to your place?" she asked as she climbed from the car, shutting the door behind her. Ben did the same, letting Dief out of the backseat. As the wolf joyfully dashed off into the snow-carpeted gardens, the duo began their trek across its expanse to the cottage at the rear of the consulate grounds. As they turned the corner from the garage, the as-yet-unexplained scritch-scratch sound that had greeted them upon exiting the car was resolved into one Constable Turnbull busily applying a snow shovel to the sidewalk that joined the consulate proper with the garage complex.

"Constable Fraser, how good it is to see you!" Turnbull exclaimed as he stopped his labors and leaned upon the handle of the shovel.

"Constable Turnbull," Ben returned.

"And how are you feeling? I can tell you that the Inspector was none too pleased when your doctor notified her that you were ill. Mind you, it wasn't that you were ill but more to the fact that the Inspector doesn't care for your doctor. She thinks he's a bit high-handed...not that I've met your doctor. I'm quite sure he's a fine man although to listen to the Inspector you would think he was..."

"Constable Turnbull," Ben interrupted. "I would like for you to meet my doctor's sister, Philippe McKenzie."

Turnbull abruptly closed his mouth but not before turning a nice shade of red. When he had recovered his tongue, he apologized profusely.

Phil laughed outright. "Don't sweat it, Constable Turnbull. I know my brother quite well and he is a bit high-handed at times as well as being a total asshole at others. However, he is a good doctor, so, I put up with him." She extended her hand.

"Ah, yes, he is, it would appear," Turnbull replied as he took her hand and shook it. "Are you going to Constable Fraser's cottage?" he asked to bridge an awkward moment of silence.

"Yes, we are. Ben feels like he can take care of himself and he wanted to come home. So, here we are." She let it be know by the tone of her voice that she didn't agree with him.

"Oh my, if I had known you were coming home today I would have shoveled the drive to the cottage."

"That's fine, Turnbull, but not necessary," Ben spoke a bit hastily.

"Nonsense, Constable. I will take care of that oversight at once. But first, I will shovel a path to your cottage so that you..."

"Turnbull, we can get there quicker if we don't have to wait for you to make us a path. We appreciate the gesture but it is not necessary."

"But...very well, sir. With your permission then, I will begin on your drive."

Ben sighed heavily then waved him off. Turnbull saluted sharply and headed in the direction of the snow-laden drive. Within moments the scritch-scratch sound resumed along with a snatch or two of what sounded like Christmas carols.

"He seems like a nice man," Phil spoke as she gazed in the direction Turnbull had taken.

"He is," Ben replied. No more needed to be said.

Facing once more in the direction of the cottage, Phil waded into the twenty-one inches of snow that had accumulated during the blizzard of the past weekend. "I hate snow," she muttered under her breath.

"No, you don't," Ben whispered into her ear as he passed her on the way to the door of his cottage.

"Yes, I do!" she shot back at him.

"No, you don't," he repeated and smiled at her over his shoulder.

Within in a few minutes, they approached the cottage. The roof was heavily laden with snow and the trees were burdened with thick white coats. Glancing around at the grounds and the well-kept exterior of the cottage, she smiled before saying, "It's lovely, Ben, but it's not exactly what I expected of you."

"What do you mean?" Ben asked as he turned puzzled eyes to Phil. "When my apartment building burned down, I had no where to go. I lived in my office for awhile as I searched for a new apartment--to no avail! Let me tell you! It is nigh impossible to find an apartment that accepts pets, let alone a wolf!"

"I can imagine," Phil replied as she stomped her feet, knocking snow from her boots. "So, how did you come to live here?"

"Actually, Inspector Thatcher suggested that I make use of the cottage since it was unoccupied at the time and there were no plans for its utilization in the future. I also thought it was a good idea since it allowed me to live close to the consulate--mind you, not as close as my office but more appropriate--so I am able to attend to any problems that may arise at whatever the time."

"A sort of live-in caretaker?" Phil cocked her head to one side and raised elegant eyebrows at the Mountie.

"I wouldn't say that," Ben began only to be interrupted by Phil.

"I would!" she said as Ben fit the key into the keyhole and unlocked the door to his home. He opened the door and stepped aside inviting her to enter first. From out of nowhere, Dief brushed past both of them, entering the cottage and heading to the warmest spot available--directly in front of the furnace vent. "Ungrateful animal," Ben mumbled as Phil passed him and entered his home.

Chuckling lightly, Phil glanced around before turning back to face Ben. He reached for her coat and she relinquished it. Watching him hang it in the small coat closet, she noticed how slowly he moved. "Ben, let me do that," she said as she reached for the coat. "You don't need to wear yourself out. You need to rest so you can recuperate from this virus."

"I'm fine, Phil, just a little tired. I'll sit down and rest after I hang up your coat and my tunic."

"Just make sure you do. In the meantime, I'll make us some tea," she said as she strolled into the kitchen and began rummaging through the cabinets looking for the tea. Finding several tins, she chose chamomile for its restorative properties and set a teakettle on the stove. Waiting for the kettle to boil, she filled Dief's dish and gave him some fresh water. Dief pointedly ignored the kibble, trotting instead to the refrigerator and staring at the door.

"Sorry, Dief, but Ben is right. Human food is not good for you so don't expect me to cave in to your whims. A muffin between friends is occasionally okay but not everyday. So, it's wolf chow or nothing."

Phil turned back to the teakettle as it began to whistle. Placing cups on a tray she'd discovered along with some honey, she carried the tray to the living room surprised at how large the room actually was--maybe it was the sparseness of furnishings or maybe it was an optical illusion. Either way, Ben was seated on a large comfortable looking sofa, his head propped on a hand, fast asleep. Sighing, she carried the tray back to the kitchen then returned to the living room.

She stood in the archway of the living room and stared at the sleeping man. He looked exhausted. No wonder, considering he'd had to contend with a virus on top of his grief over their daughter. Her heart swelled with feelings of tenderness and concern for him. She recalled how she had felt during the days, weeks, months after Lindy's death. If there had been any way to spare him this grief, she knew she would have taken it. But there wasn't. If there was to be anything between them then he had to know of their daughter and experience the grief that comes from losing a loved one. She had known this day was coming and she'd promised to be here for him.

But...it still hurt to see him suffering. A hot tear rolled down her cheek and she swiftly brushed it aside. His grief had awakened her own and together they had wept for their lost child. Some of the bitterness she'd carried with her for years had eased as they shared their grief. If only he had been there when Lindy died. Maybe things would have been different. At least, she would have had someone to share her grief with other than her brothers. They were great guys, the best brothers a girl could have, but they could not replace the man she had given her heart to. No, Ben had not been there when she needed him the most.

She recognized the seeds of anger and bitterness as they sought to fester and grow within her soul. She had dealt with them many times in her past but that was the Past. This was the Present and there was a chance that she might find her lost love once more if she could put the anger and bitterness behind her and forgive Ben. Could she do that? Or must she acknowledge to herself and the rest of the world that she was a hard-hearted bitch, incapable of forgiveness, of letting go the darkness of the Past? What kind of person was she, deep down? When everything was stripped away and the person she truly was was all that was left...what kind of person would that be?

Shaking herself from her dark reverie, she approached Ben and, kneeling at his feet, unlaced his boots, and gently drew them from his feet. She worked carefully, ever mindful that he might wake at any time. He needed his rest and she didn't want to be the cause of him awakening when the rest would do him a world of good.

Rising to her feet, she went in search of his bedroom returning with a pillow and a blanket she'd found folded at the foot of his bed. Plumping the pillow, she placed it at one end of the sofa then gently maneuvered Ben around until his head was on the pillow. She carefully lifted his legs and placed them on the sofa as well. The last thing she did was spread the blanket over his sleeping form.

A loud banging on the door sent Phil scurrying to answer it before it awakened Ben. Scowling, she flung the door open startling Ray Vecchio who stood there with his hand raised to knock again. "Sshh!!" Phil hissed, her finger to her lips. "Ben's asleep."

One of Ray's eyebrows drew up in surprise. "Asleep?" he squeaked.

Phil nodded her head as she stood aside and let him enter the cottage.

"How is he?" Ray asked as he unbuttoned his coat and unwound the scarf from around his neck. "Where's Benny, by the way?"

Motioning toward the living room, Phil whispered, "He's asleep on the sofa. He fell asleep right after I brought him home."

"Are you sure it's safe to bring him home? Maybe he should have stayed a few more days," Ray's voice echoed his concern.

Motioning with a hand, Phil invited Ray into the kitchen. In a lowered voice, she commented, " What do you think? Today's the first day he hasn't run a temperature and, you know him, he had to come home immediately."

"He's still sick? Why didn't you say so," Ray started for the living room but was stopped by Phil's hand on his arm.

"He's okay for the moment, Ray. Let me fix you a cup of coffee and we can talk while we wait for Sleeping Beauty to wake up."

Ray nodded his head then sat down at the table. He watched Phil make the coffee, not for the first time noticing her graceful movements, and accepted a cup when she offered it to him. "So," he began, "I guess you and Benny had your little talk?"

Phil nodded and sipped from the cup of tea she had already prepared for herself.

"And?" he prodded.

"And what?"

"And what happened?"

Phil sighed heavily. What had happened between Ben and herself was just that--between Ben and herself. No matter how well meaning or close anyone else might be, what had happened between them was their concern alone. Still, friends were friends and there was no way around their concern without being rude and callous. Running a hand through her hair, she stared into the depths of her cup of tea. "We talked about a lot of things--mostly about Lindy then he passed out, I called my brother, and Ben's spent the last three days in my bed."

Ray did not rise to the obvious bait but instead asked, "How's he doing? He was in bad shape the last time I saw him."

"He's doing as well as can be expected. He said that he'd spent a couple of days with Cat and that helped him a lot. It's funny, really, I spent a couple of days with Cat as well. In fact, when you called to tell Cat that Ben knew about Lindy, I was with her."

"No!"

Phil smiled wryly. "Yeah. That's how come I rushed home so fast. I guess it's lucky I did or Ben and I might have met at Cat's."

"So, how is Benny?"

Phil glanced toward the living room where Ben slept, unaware of the discussion concerning him taking place in his kitchen. "He's weak from the virus but that will pass. It will take a lot longer for his heart to heal. Grief is not something that can be dealt with in the span of a few days."

Ray nodded his head in agreement then sipped from his coffee.

Phil continued, "Aside from that, he's already made numerous indecent propositions to me..."

The mouthful of coffee went spewing forth as Ray choked on it. Gasping for breath, he managed to say, "The least you could do is warn a person when you're going to lay something like that on them!"

"I'm sorry, Ray," Phil said between chuckles.

"Yeah, I just betcha are."

Phil continued to chuckle softly as Ray glowered at her from across the table. A noise caught her attention and she spoke once more to Ray. "Ben's awake. Why don't you go in and say hi while I fix him a cup of tea."

Ray was already on his feet and headed toward the living room and his friend. A perfunctory wave let Phil know that he'd heard what she'd said but there was no deterring him from his mission.

"Tell him to stay where he is or I'll send him straight to bed!" she shot at Ray's back.

A few minutes later, Phil joined Ben and Ray. She passed a cup of tea to Ben but would not allow him to move from the sofa. He scowled at her but did her bidding.

Ray smiled broadly as he watched Phil manipulate Ben into doing what was best for him. She settled onto the floor beside the sofa. Diefenbaker rose from in front of the furnace vent and came to lie beside her on the floor. She ran a hand down his flanks and scratched behind his ears. Dief laid his head in her lap, closed his eyes, and sighed. Ray was quick to note all of this and also of how often Ben's hand touched her hair, her shoulder, her cheek. It was as if his hand unconsciously wanted to assure him that she was there within touching distance. He had never seen Ben look more at home--at peace with himself--than this moment. Maybe there was hope for his friends. They looked so much like a family, so right for each other, they just had to make it this time. A fleeting thought of Casey Sinclair saddened his heart. If there was hope for his friends then maybe there was hope for him.

Cat was not in the least bit surprised when Becka Fraser emerged from the RCMP squad vehicle that materialized in her drive. Her sixth sense had told her to expect someone and Becka was the logical choice. Smiling, she dropped the drape back over the window and went to meet her surprise guest.

Becka mounted the steps as Cat opened the front door. Will Marchand was only a few steps behind her.

"Ah, Becka," she said, enveloping her friend in a sisterly hug.

In all the years they had known each other and through all the shared events, Cat had never seen Becka look so...satisfied. She looked as if the world had fallen into place in exactly the right spots and Becka was directing the action. "You look like a cat that just got into the cream."

"You don't know the half of it, Cat."

Cat's eyebrows rose in a silent question before she turned to Marchand. "Thank you, Will. This must seem like deja vu to you."

"Just a little, Sergeant, but I know you'll get things straightened out in a hurry." He tipped his hat, and retreated to the RCMP cruiser. Before closing the door, he called, "Do you need anything?"

Cat shot a quick glance at Becka, who was waving farewell to Marchand.

"No. Thanks, Will, I got it covered."

Cat watched the RCMP cruiser leave and then turned to Becka, squeezing the cold hand she held. Wordlessly she tugged, pulling her into the warm entry and closed the door behind. Becka dropped her pack and removed her hat. Snow tumbled from her jacket and shoes and melted instantly on the warm, black slate.

"You're getting wet, Becka. Get these things off before you catch cold."

Becka slipped off her gloves and let Cat take them. While Cat stowed her things somewhere to dry, Becka unlaced her boots and stepped out of them. Glancing around, she heading into the living room and settled onto a cushion on the hearth seat. Bella approached walking the length of the sofa then crossing to the coffee table before jumping to the hearth. She eased under Becka's arm and settled onto her lap. Becka idly stroked the cat while she ran fingers through her hair trying to shake loose any remaining snow. Sheila settled onto the sofa and stared at Becka through her wise cat eyes.

"I see you beat me to it," Cat said as she joined Becka by the fireplace. Sheila meowed plaintively and Cat dropped down onto the sofa. Scooping the cat up, she hugged her briefly before letting Sheila make herself comfortable in her lap.

"Actually, I was just thinking how great it feels to be home. I hope you don't mind me staying with you."

Cat laughed sharply. "You should know better by now, Becka. This is your home. I want you to feel welcome here any time."

"I know that but it always helps to hear you say so." A shiver rushed up her spine and she rubbed her arms with her hands.

"You're cold and wet, Becka. Why don't you strip out of those wet things while I go run you a nice hot bath? That will warm you up in a hurry."

"Oh, that sounds lovely, Cat. I have so looked forward to sinking into that tub of yours surrounded by mountains of bubbles and just letting the world pass me by. Do you think you could manage that?"

Cat's eyes sparkled with ill-concealed humor. "I don't know, Beck...that may be beyond my poor capabilities. I guess you'll just have to settle for whatever I can manage. Just don't spend too long in there or you'll end up looking like a prune. You wouldn't want to look like a prune, would you?"

"Frankly, Cat, I don't care whether I turn into a prune or a fairy princess. I just feel so tired...exhausted, I guess."

"Well, that's why you're here--to get back on your feet. I know these past months can't have been easy for you. I'm just sorry that they ended the way they did."

Becka stripped the socks from her feet. Glancing sideways at Cat, she answered, "I'm not. Now that I've finally left the force, I can honestly say that it is the right thing. I only wish I had done it sooner."

"I certainly hope you're right."

"I am. Now if I could just get laid, I'd feel even better."

"Becka!" Cat exclaimed and grabbing a conveniently placed pillow tossed it at her friend. Sheila protested by leaving Cat's lap.

Becka easily caught the missile and tossed it back. "Well, it's true, Cat, and you know it." Bella joined Sheila and the two cats stared unblinkingly at the humans. Becka laughed heartily and Cat quickly joined her.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Cat rose to her feet and headed toward the stairway. "I think I'd better go run your bath before we give those two something else to complain about." Becka's laughter followed her up the stairs.

With Ben safely ensconced in his bed sound asleep, Phil decided to straighten the living room and clean the kitchen. It looked as if Ben had not had time to do his usual spotless job for awhile--probably not since learning of Lindy. Grief sometimes expressed itself that way--a normally fastidious person suddenly not caring to complete simple housework or a sloven mess who suddenly became Mr. Clean. Mind you, the cottage wasn't a mess but the dishes sitting in the sink, the clothing draped over the back of a chair, and the pile of letters and photos on the table beside the sofa were not characteristic of Benton Fraser.

When Ben had begun to tire, she tactfully had suggested that he should go to bed. Ray had taken the hint and had excused himself, promising to check back with them later. Phil gave him her cell phone number and Ray promised to call. She in turn promised to call Ray if she needed any help or Ben relapsed. Now she stood alone in Ben's kitchen wondering what to do first. Ray had promised to return with food prepared by his mother. He simply wouldn't take no for an answer saying that to not accept the food would be an insult to his mother. Recalling the cold she suffered earlier and the food provided by his mother, she could only accede and accept the generous gift, so, no cooking just dishes to be washed.

When that task was accomplished, she returned to the living room gathering Ben's clothes and sorting them into loads for washing. She'd discovered a stackable washer and dryer in a small utility room off the kitchen. She soon had a load of clothes going.

Returning to the living room, she carefully collected the letters and photos into a pile. With a start she realized that they were the ones she had so precipitously sent to him a week earlier. She sorted through them finally locating the larger photo of Lindy in the red dress. Rising to her feet, she moved to the fireplace and placed it with the others on the mantle. She returned to the table and placed the other photos back in the envelope. She continued cleaning until the cottage was once more in it's normal state of order.

"Poor boy! Make sure he eats all of this," Sylvia Vecchio instructed as she loaded two grocery bags with an assortment of foods.

"I will, Ma," Ray replied.

"You should've brought him home with you. When a man is sick he needs someone to care for him."

"Don't worry, Ma, Benny has someone taking care of him."

"Hmm?" Sylvia ceased her activities and stared at her son. "And who would that someone be? That Inspector of his?"

Ray threw up his hands in alarm. "No way, Ma. Inspector Thatcher isn't that kind of woman. No, Benny's in better hands than that."

"And who could take better care of him than his family?" she asked with concern in her voice.

"It's kinda hard to explain, Ma."

"How hard can it be, Raymondo?"

Ray tugged on an ear as he sought for the right way to explain about Ben and Phil.

"Does this have anything to do with that woman he loves?"

"Victoria? No, Ma, that woman is long gone and Benny don't love her."

"You mistake me, Raymondo. I did not mean that evil woman; I meant the other one--the one that his soul yearns for--the one that has troubled his spirit for the past year or so."

Stunned, Ray stared at his mother. "How...?"

"What? You think I would not notice when one of my children is troubled? Benton is a troubled young man. That the trouble involves his heart is easy to see to anyone who cares for him. Is this not true?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Raymondo," she gently chided," you do not need to carry this burden alone. You are his best friend but he is part of our family and family cares for family. You tell him that."

"I will, Ma, but I think he already knows that."

"That is good. Now, about this woman, do you know her? Is she good for him? Does she have a name?"

Ray thought a moment before replying, "Her name is Phil McKenzie and Benny has known her for about twelve...thirteen years. They were engaged at one time."

"To marry? Why did they not marry?" Sylvia placed the last container in a sack then turned to Ray.

Ray cleared his throat. Did he have the right to reveal the things Ben had told him? "Benny broke the engagement and more than that I can't say. Benny's the one that needs to fill in the details."

"So, the poor boy left this woman years ago and all this time his heart has regretted that decision. How does the woman, this Phil McKenzie feel?"

"She feels the same but she's afraid of being hurt again."

"That is understandable, Raymondo. She will want to take it slow and careful."

"Yeah, but the good thing is, they have found each other again and maybe they can make things work this time."

Sylvia regarded her son for a few moments. "There is more to this story than you are telling but you must respect Benton's confidences so I will not pry further."

"Thanks, Ma, you know I don't like to keep things from you but it's not my place to tell you these things."

"So, is this woman taking care of Benton while he is sick?"

"She's taken care of him for the past three days. She brought him back to his cottage today. I don't know if she's going to stay with him so I packed a few things and I'm going to spend the night with him just in case."

Sylvia beamed at him. "You're a good son, Raymondo." Ray reached for the sacks of food but his mother stayed his hand. "I have something else to discuss with you."

Ray withdrew his hand. His mother's tone of voice had changed. He knew he was about to get a lecture. Instead he was surprised by the question his mother asked.

"Do you love your sister?"

"Which one?" he joked. Sylvia glared reprovingly at him. Ray's smirk died on his face. "Of course, I love my sisters."

"Do you wish Francesca to be happy?"

Baffled, Ray regarded his mother. "Of course, I want Frannie to be happy. What does this have to do with me?"

"Francesca is in love with a good man but they both feel that you do not approve of him. He will not ask her to marry him because you would not approve."

"How can I not approve if I don't know the guy?"

Sylvia offered him a forgiving smile. "You do know him, Raymondo, you have just been too wrapped up in your own affairs to realize what has happened. You must come to terms with this. You must think of your sister. He is a good man and he loves her. Now go and think on what I have said to you."

Ray grasped the handles on the sacks then turned to his mother. She waved him off. "I will say no more, Raymondo. You must open your eyes to what is around you."

"Ray, that was absolutely delicious!" Phil exclaimed as she dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. "Please, be sure to thank your mother for preparing all this food."

Ray leaned back in his chair and patted his full tummy. "I'll tell her but she'll wave me off and say something about family, good food, and other things."

Phil grinned across the table at him. "Tell her anyway...from me."

Ray grinned back then nodded.

"Yes, please express our appreciation and gratitude for this wonderful repast," Ben added after he swallowed the food in his mouth.

Ray made a shooing motion with his hand and smiled contentedly at his friends.

Phil placed her napkin on the table and rose to her feet. "I'll get started on the dishes while the two of you get comfortable in the living room.

"Nope, not gonna happen," Ray stated as he straightened in his chair then rose to his feet. "You've got your practice to get to so I'll do the dishes while Benny gets comfortable."

"But..."

"No, buts."

"Do I have anything to say about this?" Ben queried.

"No," came simultaneously from Ray and Phil. They glanced at each other then at Ben's dour expression and began laughing.

"Okay, Ray, I'll get my coat and leave you two to whatever mischief you can find," Phil finally managed to squeak out after the laughter.

"You do that, Phil, and I'll walk you to your car," Ray said with a no nonsense look directed at Ben. "You are not leaving this house until you are better so I'll walk Phil to her car, capice?"

"Understood," Ben muttered, the chagrin plain on his face.

Moments later, Phil and Ray were ready to leave for the short walk to her car. "You really don't have to do this, Ray."

Ray smiled. "I know I don't but I want to."

They walked in silence for a moment. "I really appreciate this, Ray," Phil spoke softly. "I felt funny about staying here with Ben but I don't think he's ready to be on his own." She paused then smiled crookedly. "Thanks."

"No sweat, Phil. Benny's my friend. I'll take over here so you can get to your practice. We'll see what tomorrow brings."

"Good. I really need some time..." her voice trailed off.

Something in her voice caused Ray to pause and turn to her. Placing hands on her shoulders, her looked her straight in her eyes. "What's the matter, Phil?"

"Nothing, Ray, really...nothing. I just..." She shook her head slightly as she searched for words. "I guess I just need some time to myself to think over what's happened. Things are moving a little too fast for me and I...I..."

"You're scared."

Phil nodded her head, dropping her chin onto her chest. "I'm scared, Ray," she whispered. Lifting her eyes to his face, she asked, "Can I trust him?"

"I do."

Phil stared deep into Ray's eyes before backing away from him. Biting her lips, she nodded then turned away from him. They continued until they reached her car. After opening the car door, she spoke again, "I'll be going now, Ray. Tell Ben I'll be in touch."

"I will, Phil, and if you aren't...Ben knows where you are. He'll come for you and if he doesn't I will," Ray said with his best gangster imitation.

Phil nodded once more then climbed into the car and backed around. She waved brightly and then she was gone.

Ray watched the taillights disappear then shook his head. It looked like there might still be some rough spots for Ben and Phil. He turned and headed back to the cottage and his friend. 'Nothing that can't be overcome,' he thought to himself. Yes, it finally looked like Ben and Phil were moving in the right direction.

Later that evening after a rousing game of Scrabble (which he invariably lost), Ray sent Ben to bed when it was obvious that he was tiring. "You wanna get better don't you?" he asked.

"Of course I do, Ray."

"Then don't fight it! You need your rest, so go. Huh uh," Ray added as he waggled his finger. "Go."

Ben muttered something under his breath as he rose to his feet and left the room. All Ray caught was something about bossy and ruthless.

Ten minutes later, Ray stood in the doorway of Ben's bedroom. Ben's still form on the bed was all he needed to see. He quietly turned and returned to the living room. "He's asleep," he told Diefenbaker who had refused to leave the comfort of the fire in the fireplace. "Don't you need to go out and do your thing?" Ray made motions with his hands.

Dief stood and stretched then curled up again in front of the fire, his back to Ray.

"Ungrateful wolf," Ray murmured. "Now I know how Benny feels. You'll probably wanna go out when I ready for bed." He shook his head. "Look at me. I'm talking to a deaf wolf and what's more I'm talking to his back. I gotta get me some new friends." Nevertheless, Ray bent down and ruffled the fur on Dief's head. "You're a good friend, you know that? Benny's lucky to have you."

Dief's eye rolled to stare up at Ray. His tail thumped the floor a couple of time and he woofed softly.

"You're welcome." Ray sighed then straightened and headed back to the comfortable armchair he'd claimed as his own. Stretching his legs out, he kicked off his shoes and crossed his ankles. Leaning back in the chair he closed his eyes. His thoughts floated from Ben to Phil to his mother to Frannie and then, for some unknown reason, to Stan. His eyes flew open and he straightened in the chair. Why had Stan Kowalski entered his thoughts when Frannie came to mind?

His mother's words came to mind. 'You do know him, Raymondo, you have just been too wrapped up in your own affairs to realize what has happened. You must come to terms with this. You must think of your sister. He is a good man and he loves her. Now go and think on what I have said to you.'

Little things began to add up--similar phrases, homemade cannoli, dates in the same evening, dancing, a word or two here and there.

'Francesca is in love with a good man but they both feel that you do not approve of him. He will not ask her to marry him because you would not approve,' his mother's voice whispered to him.

His thought winged back about a month ago to an encounter with Stan. He remembered making a snide comment about Stan getting laid and the rebuttal had floored him.

Realization flooded across Ray's soul. With crystal clarity, he saw things as they were. His sister, Francesca Vecchio was in love with his partner, Stanley Kowalski. And what's more, Stan was in love with her. Was he the only one who didn't know it? What was he going to do? There was no way he would let his sister marry someone like...

Why was it that his mother could make him feel like such a heel? Of course he loved Frannie and he wanted her to be happy...but with Stan? Why couldn't it have been someone like...like who? What was so wrong with Stan? Wasn't the important thing that fact that he really loved her? Who was he to stand in the way of his sister's happiness? But...Stan Kowalski as his brother-in-law? His thoughts quickly shifted to Tony and how happy Maria was. Surely Stan couldn't be any worse than Tony was. At least, Stan had a paying job, one he was good at. Maybe Stan wouldn't be so bad. Furthermore, they'd have something to talk about...something in common. No, actually maybe Stan wasn't such a bad idea. He'd just have to see how things fell out in the next couple of days.

He knew he had a choice to make. He had to weigh his sister's happiness against his personal feelings for Stan. He'd have to watch Stan with more than just a partner's eye.

Phil slid deeper into the generous bubbles of her bath. The scent of fresh cut flowers caressed her senses as she let her mind free to wander where it will. That they made a beeline for Ben Fraser was no surprise. Why couldn't she think of something else? Why always Ben Fraser?

She squeezed some lilac scented body wash on her nylon scrubby then ran it over her arm. Switching hands, she lathered the other arm. She slid back down into the water until it lapped at her chin. Very well, if her mind insisted in dwelling on Ben Fraser, so be it! What was she going to do? She loved him...there was no denying that but could she trust him? Ray did and his opinion meant a lot to her. Cat trusted him but her judgment was flavored by her feelings for him as well as their shared history. But could she trust him? Trust had to be earned. Maybe she should just let things happen and see if he could win her trust back. Maybe she should not let the past color her thoughts about him.

Did she really want him back? Closing her eyes, she sought for that tiny chamber where she'd tried to wall up her feelings for Ben. What she found there was not unexpected. She loved him and wanted him back in her life. She wanted the knight in shining armor, the white picket fence, the whole nine yards. She wanted Ben Fraser with a hunger she had long denied. Opening her eyes, she smiled. She no longer had to deny her feelings or the desires that welled up in her being. She could have everything she'd ever wanted if she could get past her fixations on trust. She had a choice now. She could choose to have Ben Fraser in her life or she could choose to continue with the way things were. It shouldn't be such a hard decision.

Take it slow and easy. That was the way to do it. Get to know him again. Find out what kind of man he now was. See if things had changed. Learn to trust him again. But how to start? Where to begin?

"Yes!" she crowed as the perfect solution entered her mind. Grinning widely, she sank beneath the water of her bath letting it wash away her cares and fears.

She would ask Ben to join her for the annual McKenzie family Christmas get-together.

Cat placed the phone back in its cradle. She stared at the phone for a moment before spinning around to face Becka. "That was Ben."

Becka immediately focused her attention on Cat. Placing her plate in the sink, she turned and leaned against the sink. "What did he have to say?

"He's been sick for the past several days." Cat strolled over to the table, pulled out a chair and sat down.

"Nothing serious, I hope." Becka joined her at the table.

"Evidently not but that's not the worst of it."

"There's more?" Becka leaned foward in her chair.

"Guess where he stayed while he was sick." Cat plastered on her best poker face.

"With Ray."

"No. Guess again."

"With the new guy, Stan?"

"Nope. One more guess."

"I haven't the faintest idea. Turnbull?"

A Cheshire grin split Cat's face. "No again."

Becka leaned across the table, grasped Cat's shoulders, and gently shook them. "Tell me! Where?"

"With Phil."

Becka's mouth dropped open with astonishment as she dropped her hands. Settling back in her chair, she spoke in an exaggerated whisper, "You're kidding me. Phil as in Phil McKenzie?"

"One and the same."

Becka shook her head in amazement. She rose and paced the length of the kitchen. Returning to the table, she queried, "How did that happen?"

Cat rested her elbows on the table and steepled her fingers. "Evidently, when they got together to talk things over, he was already ill. She wouldn't let him return to his place while he was sick."

"Really? I wonder if they got anything resolved." Becka resumed her pacing, brushing an errant lock of hair from her face.

Cat watched Becka's agitated pacing. Was there more to just Ben and Phil? Why was Becka in such a state? Tilting her head to the side, she answered Becka's question, "Ben seems in pretty good spirits so I would think that things are looking up for him." She waited for Becka's response. She wasn't disappointed.

"I hope so, I really hope so," Becka agreed letting a small glimmer of hope enter her voice. Spinning about, she approached Cat at the table. "Damn, Cat, I need to see him but if I show up a week early on his doorstep, he'll think I'm there to interfere and then I'll never find out anything."

Cat thought for a moment then grinned slyly. "I have a plan."

To be continued

Disclaimer: This story is written for the private entertainment of fans. The author makes no claims on the characters or their portrayal by the creation of this story. Fraser, Vecchio, et.al. belong to Alliance; the McKenzies and friends belong to me. Cat Madden belongs to Carol Trendall and is used with permission. No infringement of any copyrights held by CBS, Alliance, CTV or any other copyright holders of DUE SOUTH is intended. This story is not published for profit, and the author does not give permission for this story to be reproduced for profit.

Lyrics from I Will Remember You by Sarah McLachlan are used without permission.

Copyright July 2002 by By Cassandra Hope