"Where's the blueberry cheesecake?"

I was sitting on my knees on the kitchen counter, going through the cupboards.

"You ate it already," came Elizabeth's voice from the living room.

"Can you drive out and get me some more, please?"

"Why? We've got muffins in the fridge if you're hungry."

"No, it's for--Elizabeth, Paul's coming to dinner tonight."

Elizabeth came into the kitchen and glanced at what I had put on the dining room table behind her. She looked up at me.

"And so you two made up?"

"Yep. He's going to be eating dinner here a lot and I'll be going out with him to restaurants sometimes."

"Did he ask you to eat dinner with him?" Elizabeth asked.

I took my nose out of the cupboard. "Yes, he asked me if I'd like to dine with him from now on, Miss Ruby."

"H'm," hummed Elizabeth. "I guess I'll go out tonight."

I gave her a look.

"Don't look at me like that, Lynney! I'll help you."

"H'm," I replied. "And do you intend to hang out with Amber and Renny or that boyfriend you haven't told me about?"

Elizabeth turned bright red. "Oh, God," she said, giggling uncontrollably and putting her hands over her face.

"You've been keepin' secrets from me, 'Liz'beth!"

"Okay, okay," she giggled. "His name is Richard Fonfara. He's my dream guy. I call him Ricky 'cause it's so much cuter."

She giggled another high-pitched, squeaky laugh.

I just rolled my eyes.

She calmed herself and said, "Well, now you know and with you and Paulie,I'll mind my own business….sometimes…." she added when she saw me again

rolling my eyes. "….As long as you mind yours with me 'n' Ricky."

"Yep," I said. "And so do I get to meet this Ricky of yours?"

"Someday."

"You mean when I'm bridesmaid at the wedding."

She blushed hard and shook her head.

"No, you'll meet him before then."

"What's he look like?"

"Tall, dark…and handsome," she replied with a wink. "What's yer dream man look like, Lynney dear?"

The image of my "dream man" popped up in my mind—dreamy eyes that were green in some lights and brown in others, a beautifully handsome face, but I said, "I can't tell you what he looks like, Elizabeth. But sometimes I'll make him wear a complete suit—a jacket, overcoat, tie, white shirt, and vest with a gold watch arranged across the front. He'd look so…handsome…in it…handsome, wonderful…"

"Hello, Elizabeth, Lynne," came another voice.

I turned around quickly and almost fell off the counter into Paul's arms. He offered me a hand, which I accepted.

"Uh…hi, Paul," I said, a bit flustered. "Umm…ahh…"

"Just gotta finish settin' the table, Paul," Elizabeth interrupted. She gave me a look: I just saved your ass. Now take him out so I can finish.

"Hello, Paul!" I said more cheerfully and guided him into the living room."Wasn't expecting you for a while."

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Paul returned (and yes, he was making fun of me). "It's six and I never thought I'd come in hearing about your dream man!"

I blushed painfully.

"But you didn't really describe him," Paul went on, obviously enjoying my embarrassment. "What's he look like? Tall, dark and handsome?"

"You'd better watch it, Paul McCartney!" came Elizabeth's voice from the kitchen. "I don't know how Lynne can put up with yer makin' fun of her, butI'm telling you now I won't put up with it!"

Paul laughed and I grinned.

"Guess I'd better lower me voice then," Paul almost shouted and Elizabeth burst into laughter.

"Anyway," he continued, "what's this lucky man look like?"

I shook my head at him.

"Ah, c'mon, love, you can tell old Uncle Paul."

I didn't say anything.

"Is he as handsome as I am?" Paul said, puffing out his chest and pretending to be conceited. "Does he look like me?"

I looked directly into his eyes. I only blinked.

"All right, keep yer secrets to yerself, then," Paul said, crossing his ankles. "But why do you want him all dressed up? Can you at least tell me that?"

"I only want him dressed up sometimes," I said. "I'd just like to see him like that once in a while. He's perfectly fine without it, but…you know…"

"Uh-h'm," Paul said. Then he changed the subject. "So what's been going on around here? How have you been finding life?"

"I am finding life very good, thank you."

"…Very much," Paul added and I chuckled. "But, really, how's everything?"

"Everything's great. I finally found out who Elizabeth's boyfriend is, the daisies in the orchard are in full bloom and I wrote two chapters for my new story today and last night. How's everything with you?"

"Fantastic. The company's running well, my daughter Mary sent me a rough draft of her new photography book and I'm here, having dinner with you."

He said those last words softly and I coloured, but said nothing.

"Here's dinner and I'm off," Elizabeth said as she came into the livingroom. We stood up, Elizabeth left and we went to the table.

We piled the food on our plates (I had taken Paul's vegetarianism into consideration) and seated ourselves. The moon was beginning to rise outside. I turned off the lights and turned on the soft lamps and lit thecandles in the windows, kitchen, living room, and dining room, as was Elizabeth's habit and mine.

I seated myself next across from Paul, in a romantic glow of candlelight.He had his fork already in the salad, but was waiting for me. When I sat, he lifted it.

"Don't eat yet," I said. "We have to say grace first."

Paul smiled but looked a little uncomfortable. I knew why, but closed myeyes and bowed my head.

"We thank you Lord for this food before us. Bless it to our bodies and bless it to our souls and bless everyone who helped make this meal possible. Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. Please guide us safely throughout the week and our lives and thank you for making it possible for Paul to come. In Your Name I pray,amen."

"Amen," Paul echoed softly. "Lynne…."

"You can eat now," I said.

He shook his head. "No, Lynne, not that. Me 'n' religion, Lynne…"

"Saying grace isn't really religion," I said. "It is, but it isn't. Any religion can say it and maybe some non-religious person wants to say thanks every once in awhile."

Paul took his fork and idly played with his lettuce. "Are you religious,Lynne? D'you believe in God?"

"I go to church sometimes, if that's what you mean by religious," Ireplied. "And, yes, I believe in God." I paused. "This is my own opinion,but I think that you don't have to always go to church to believe in God and be happy in Him. 'Church'—that could be in your own home. If you, me,and Elizabeth all came here to worship him, it'd be kinda like church, I guess."

"But the different religions—" Paul started.

"You know what?" I asked. "I heard a pastor say once it didn't matter what religion you were, as long as you believed in God. That's what's important.And I think that you really do believe in God, even though you say you don't."

"Why d'you think that?"

"Things you've said that I've read. Some guy saying he was Jesus coming over to Cavendish and you letting him in because you thought if he really was Jesus, you didn't want to turn him away. It sounds like you suspected there was a God, but you weren't sure"

"You're right in a way, but then you're not. You've got all these people worshipping God and they don't know what He looks like."

"They don't have to know. It's called having faith. Believing even when you can't see what you're believing in."

"I don't mean it like that. I mean, I know they haven't seen Him,but they have no idea of Him at all. They don't know Who they're worshipping." He looked at me. "Do you know Who you're worshipping, Lynne?Can you see Him, you know, in your head?"

"Yes." I answered. "He's beautiful. He's got brown hair—sometimes white,but a heavenly kind a' white—and blue eyes and wears soft white and royalblue. He's kind, loving and forgiving. You mess up and He doesn't blast you with lightning. You tell Him that you're lost and don't know what to do or where to go and He sends help. He takes care of us all. When I was younger,I went through some crap with people at school and would get stressed and depressed. God would lift my spirits and tell me everything'd be okay. WhenI was angry and couldn't see anything but black and red, He'd show me wildpurple snapdragons and their silvery leaves. When I felt life was stale anddull, He'd send my family and friends to me when I needed them most and they would help make me laugh. I'd see a natural stream and bluebirds where I thought there was nothing. I used to think I was ugly. Maybe I was. But one day, I could confront that girl in the mirror. She was lovelier thanI'd thought. The "rarity of soul" and radiant, starry personality started to be seen. God gave me everything I have. And I'm happy."

Paul smiled, but said, "Then why do so many terrible things happen? Whyare people killed? Why is there cancer?"

"Paul, I don't know. Maybe mankind, through sin, has brought evil on ourselves that even the innocent suffer to teach the others what they need to do. Maybe it's to strengthen and mature the people and loved ones that are touched by it. Grief is needed to grow; isn't that what they say? But even through all the bad, there is something wonderful awaiting you. Therewas a blind man who Jesus healed—a man who hadn't done anything wrong—and it was God's plan for that to happen so Jesus could reveal the glory of God. Maybe that man appreciated his sight better than anyone there—he hadn't had it before and wouldn't take it for granted."

"You know," Paul said simply, and looked like he was absorbing the conversation.

We ate on in silence. He looked like he had something on his mind and I wasn't about to bother him. But I couldn't help fixing my eyes on him,wondering what he was thinking and studying how the candlelight illuminated his freshly washed hair and how his eyelids dropped down to hide his eyes.He looked up while I was observing him and smiled. I blushed and stared at the muffin on my plate.

We both finished eating and I took the plates and glasses and put them in the sink. I cleaned the table and Paul went over to the sliding-glass door that opened into the backyard. He opened it and leaned his head against the door frame.

"Something wrong, Paul?" I asked.

He turned to face me. "No….Just thinking. Come 'ead, Lynne."

I went to him and he put his hand lightly on my shoulder. "Look at how bright the stars are."

The Big Dipper looked like it was going to spill some milk. Cassiopeia smiled from her starry throne and Pegasus leapt over us.

"They're lovely. It's…not like this at home."

Paul turned his head towards me. "Like what?"

I looked out into the depths of dark night and answered, "They're even brighter in Windy Falls….At least, they used to be. When I first lived there, there were barely any houses on our street. There were about two lamp-posts on our block. The stars were always bright and you could even see satellites ev'ry now an' then. But the block was finished and more lights and people filled my town. But it's still lovely there and it's full of great people."

"D'you miss it?"

"Yes," I answered softly.

"What do you miss?"

"I miss my family. I miss playing games with my friends, I miss the sunshine and the smell of the morning dew and country in the morning; I

miss everything. Don't you miss home?"

"I miss the home I once had and am hoping to gain it back again," Paul answered seriously. "I sometimes miss being young and I miss my days as a

Beatle. We were young then and happy. Well," he said, "we'd better stop or we'll start crying!"

"It's okay to cry," I said softly. "As long as you don't do it all the time."

We were quiet again. After a few moments, Paul stepped out into the backyard orchard, taking my hand in his. He smelled the air: it was fresh and sweet.

"Turn out all the lights, Lynney, and come back out."

All the lights and candles were extinguished.

Paul took my hand again and we strolled in the darkness, our only light the stars and moon.

I suddenly had an idea. "Let's play hide 'n' go seek, Paul!"

Paul laughed. "Okay," he said agreeably. "You're It!"

He dashed off as I yelled, "You can only hide in the orchard! Not in the house!"

I was barefoot and the cool grass underneath my feet felt good. I could just barely see the outlines of Paul's shoes in the grass. I smiled wickedly to myself and followed them, coming to the garden gate.

"I know you're here, Paul, so ya'd better come out!"

There was a loud rustle in the bushes outside the garden fence. I ran over to them, yelling, "I got you!" but he wasn't there; it was only his shoe. Ilooked practically everywhere, searching for an hour, thinking I'd found him, but I hadn't. I even checked the house and I couldn't find him. So I climbed my tree, (wearing a skirt too) the central spot in the yard and stretched out on one of the lower branches. I figured I'd see Paul if he moved anywhere.

Time passed.

I started to feel sleepy.

Time passed again.

I folded my arms across the branch and rested my head on them.

Time passed again.

Sleepiness washed over me in waves.

Finally, I let them engulf me. My eyelids drooped and soon I was sleeping peacefully.

"Lynne! Lynne! Where are you?"

The sound of a voice woke me just a little, but I fell asleep again.

"Lynne!"

The voice was almost directly beneath me. I woke up just a little bit and rolled over.

Thwash!

The leaves swished crazily and I felt myself drop and suddenly lifted.

"Lynne?"

I was now half-awake, but snuggled closer to the warmth surrounding me.The warmth seemed to press tighter around me and I felt smooth skin on myforehead.

I slowly opened my eyes and realized with a start that I had fallen out of the tree—

—and Paul had caught me!

I was nestled in his arms, my head against his chest and his cheek resting against my forehead.

"Paul?"

"Lynne? You awake? Are you okay?"

"I…I think so."

"Come 'ead, I'll take you in." He stood up with me in his arms and started for the house.

I almost said that I was fine and I could walk, but instead, I relaxed and looked up at the stars. My gaze traveled back to Paul and I studied his moonlit profile. My hand almost went up to trace it, but I contented myself with leaning my head against his heart and listening to him breathe.

We were on the back porch and he set me down, making me promise not to

move until he came back.

"But I'm fine, Paul," I protested.

"I'm not so sure about that. Just stay there and I'll turn on the lights."

I could suddenly see the living room as he turned on the lamp and came back to me. He placed me on the couch and sat with me.

"Paul, I'll prove I'm fine," I said to his concerned look. I pushed myself up from the couch and stood. I heard Paul take a sharp breath and he caught me again.

"Okay, so I'm not fine," I said a bit weakly. "It hurts, Paul."

"Where?"

"I dunno. It hurt when I tried to stand."

"Just lay down and relax. I'm gonna check for bruising."

"Yes, please, Doctor McCartney, fix me right up," I said with a painful little giggle.

He took my face in his hands and looked at me intently. He examined my arms, a bit scratched from the branches and then carefully turned me over.

"The back of your arms are red—there'll be some beautiful bruises there tomorrow." I felt him roll up my ankle-length skirt. He stopped at the back of my knees. "It's a bit purple back here," he told me, probing the area with his fingers.

"Careful!" I almost yelled.

"Sorry, Lynne." There was an embarrassing silence. "Lynne…"

"What, you done yet?"

"No…I've got to look under your shirt, luv."

I buried my face into the couch cushion, hiding my blushes and nodding my head.

Paul gently tugged it off and explored my back carefully this time. I felt him unhook my bra and I suddenly felt a shiver of fear and outrage. I almost screamed at him, but he said, <br. "I think we've found the problem, Lynney."

"What?"

Paul's finger moved across my back in a line. "You're bruising bad back here. The hook of your bra got hooked in your skin. It's bleeding a bit.Here, give me your hand." He pulled my arm back and let me feel it. I touched it a little too hard and felt pain. My anger subsided and I felt guilty for thinking he was going to…."take advantage of me" as Mayella Violet Ewell once said.

Paul left and came back with a damp washcloth and peroxide. I gasped as it burned, but he stroked my hair, calming me. He got some long cloth bandages and helped me to sit up. He sat behind me, and, knowing what he was goingto do, I gathered my hair in one hand and held my bra in place with the other.

He unwound the bandages and tucked an end under my bra-holding arm. He gently put that arm down, pulling my bra off. I blushed slightly and felt him smiling. He wound the bandages around me and then tied them in place. I tried to put my shirt back on, but he laid a hand on my arm.

"Put this on, luv." He had unbuttoned his white dress-shirt and was now putting it on me.

"No, Paul, I can't take this. You'll be cold."

"On a night like this?" Paul spread his bare arms wide. "It's about eightyout there right now, Lynne."

"I've got clothes a' my own," I persisted.

"'S okay, Lynney. Keep it."

I leaned across the space between us and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"Thank you, Paul," I said shyly.

"It warn't nothin', ma'am, don't you worry." He hugged me carefully and then eyed me. "Aren't you going to button up that shirt?"

"What?" I looked down at the shirt and realized it was gaping open. "Oh." I began to button it, but the bandages loosened slightly when I lifted myarms. "I can't. The bandages are coming loose."

"Oh. Okay," Paul answered and seated himself at the piano and began to play a beautiful melody.

"What's that?" I asked, coming to stand by him.

"It's a new song I've had in me head a while," Paul replied. "It's—Lynne,you sure you can stand?"

"Perfectly sure," I assured him. "I feel okay now."

I thought Paul was going to sigh or do something likewise disagreeable,but he smiled and played again.

"It's lovely, Paul."

"Thank 'ee, luv," he replied and I had the feeling he was going to say something else, but he didn't.

He began to hum the lyrical part and I felt the harmony right away. I almost shyly began to hum along with him, hitting the harmony notes. Paul smiled and played for a little while longer and then stopped.

"I'm still working on the rest," he said. "You know, I have this crazy fancy to dance." He stood up and offered his hand. "Want to, just for a bit?"

"Sure," I answered with a bright smile.

Paul took my hand and went over to the CD shelf and went through them. He put in pretty much everything and it began to play. He turned it up and said, "C'mon, Lynne, let's go outside."

We were out in the moonlight again and I heard a "Bow to yer pardner." Paul bowed and I curtsied (of course, as a laugh) and we both started to dance. I went a bit carefully as my knees were a little banged up, but I figured that me not being able to stand was probably because I tried too hard to get up. (I was right.) All the fast songs rushed on, one after another and we were both twirling each other around and laughing like nuts.

But then a slow song came on and he took my hand gently and pulled me to him. We danced like that for a long time; my head on his shoulder and his cheek just touching mine and then resting in my hair with his arms aroundme. His skin was warm and smelled like cologne and aftershave and just that manly smell. I knew what was happening but was scared to acknowledge it as yet.

When the songs got fast again, he went in and turned it down and we sat together on the back porch and talked. I began to yawn and my head fell against Paul's shoulder. He put an arm around me and helped me up.

"What a sod I am for keeping you up so late," he said. "I'd better be going."

"It's okay, Paul, I don't mind. You can stay here if you want."

Paul seemed to consider it, but asked, "It's Friday, in'it?"

I nodded sleepily. He started walking us both to the door.

"Can I come by tomorrow, Lynne? We can eat dinner here or in London or in the country, but I might be coming by earlier. That okay?"

"Sure," I replied.

There was a mischievous twinkle in Paul's eyes as he said, "I'm going to ask you one more thing before I go. D'you like horses and sheep?"

"Yeah, I think…" I was a little confused.

"Good. And Lynne?"

"Yes, Paul?"

"You were right about how I feel about God—about how I suspected. How do you really know?"

"You just know."

He opened the door and hesitated a moment, taking my hand in his.

"Do you think it's too late for me?"

"No," I answered honestly.

"I'm glad I met you, Lynne," Paul said and hugged me. "…I think I'm beginning to see some things. See you tomorrow afternoon?"

"I'll be here," I promised as I gave him back his shirt. He took it with a smile; a gentle, soft smile.

"Good night, Lynne."

"Good night, Paul."

<blockquote>And as I watched him drive off, I realized he had made no offers to help me button up the shirt.</blockquote>

On to Chapter 7

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