Disclaimer: Only the ones I created...

Author's Notes: Don't adjust your computer screen, folks, this is the
8th part of Fire and Rain. I know! I have no idea how it happened. I
went to bed last night, and little elves crawled out of every crevice
of my apartment, heading towards my computer. When I woke up, this
part was already written :) Enjoy.



"Praying for Rain" by Carolina



  Every little grain in a long stray of sand is important. They say if
every grain of sand decided they didn't want to be a part of the sea,
there wouldn't be an ocean at all! That's how important every
individual is. No matter how big or small; white or brown; round,
squared, or deformed, every single one of them collaborates to make
the beauty that is the ocean.

  Luka heard that story hundreds of times growing up; from his
parents, from his grandparents, from his godparents and teachers.
Every time Luka seemed to be lost, wondering what his role on earth
was; when he wanted to give up, the answer came back invariably, "If
every grain of sand decided they had no role on earth, where would the
ocean be?" The metaphor didn't make sense until the war broke out,
until he saw what his role on earth was, until he was a witness of his
abilities. If there was no Luka, many more people would have lost
their loved ones, many more people would have died.

  But Luka held no concern for sand at the moment. He was only glad he
could feel it between his toes, squeezing it against his foot and the
sandy ground. The shore was cold, announcing the proximity of winter.
But the temperature felt right, an odd source of comfort.
 
  When he was a child, he would go to the beach with his father and
brother and just lay down on the sand, squeezing it with his fists
only to release it, and squeeze it again. It was a stress reliever,
although there was nothing to be stressing about at 7. His father
hated it. He was one of those men who always carried a bottle of water
with him. Not to drink, but to make sure no one brought sand into his
car. All lined up, one by one, he'd wash their feet and hands,
removing every single particle. It used to irritate Luka, to have his
friends see his father washing his feet as if he was a baby. But that,
he decided at an early age, was much better than to have his friends
see his father whacking the side of his head for getting sand on the
car.

  Having a father who was obsessively compulsive about sand was the
only concern on his mind as they drove home. In the present, he was
actually wishing he could have that again, exchange the worries he had
back then with the ones he had now. He wished sand was his only
nemesis, an enemy that could be kept away easily with water. He prayed
hard for his father to come running towards him with a bottle on his
hands, to wash all the sand away from his feet. He knew he wouldn't be
getting what he wanted, yet he prayed.

  His body felt heavy as he faced the ocean, feeling the cool breeze
as it embraced him whole, as it rocked him to sleep. He thought coming
back to San Diego would make him feel better. That he'd find his dear
house, surrounded by his dear ocean under the perfect weather, and
comfort would pay him a visit. But that had not been the case.

  The sea was furious, and the sky gray. It made the water jump up in
the air like dolphins, and splash all the way down again, only to do
the same over and over. He hated it when the sea was like that. He
loved the ocean with an immeasurable passion, but he couldn't stand to
see it the way it was at the moment. The waves were not rising up
together, traveling towards the land to cover the shore. Instead,
chunks of water were raising up, and coming down again. The sight even
disgusted him. Yet he couldn't be anywhere else.

  His house was empty and quiet, and at least outside he could be
deafened by the sound of the madness of the waves. He let out a deep
breath, thinking of his trip, trying to plan a future. Five years had
turned out to be only five seconds. He thought he had actually moved
on and the past would be just that, the past. But somewhere down the
line, the past had become the present, and the future had been erased.
The gray in his hair had blossomed in the blink of an eye, and the sun
in the sky had remained high in a calendar in which memories had
prevented the moon from flying up to the great vertical extent.

  When Tom had asked him about going to a medical conference in
Chicago, Luka's initial reaction had been to lie. "I can't, I have too
much work backed up." But when Tom had offered to take on the extra
work for him, Luka had been left between the blade and the wall. He
nodded a noncommittal yes, and as he drove home, the possible
repercussions of his trip began to sink in. He would be going back to
Chicago, where it all began. Where he said goodbye to Carol; where he
killed a man; where he fell in love, only to be stolen of his soul
again. A trip to Chicago. As much as he had vowed never to go back, he
found himself anticipating the journey. God was a witness of his
knowledge about the unpleasant possibilities. Yet he walked into the
plane so willingly, one might have thought he was going on a vacation.

  Standing in San Diego again, thinking of the previous week, he began
to wonder where it all was heading. Where else could he possibly go?
How much can a person run before he reaches the end of the line? He
had made it to the Pacific Ocean. There was nowhere to go but down.
The future had been overshadowed by the past, and until the present
wouldn't gather the strength to set it free, he could do nothing but
stand there, restricted by the waves.

 Hatred began to consume him inside. Not hatred for Abby, or Carter,
or Kerry or Irene; hatred for himself. Hatred for being a fool, for
hoping. People kept encouraging him to stand up and keep walking.
There are so many times a person can be knocked down and left for dead
before they stay dead for good. He thought everything would be ok when
Abby came along, but he had been wrong. Should he submit himself to
foolish thinking again? Should he allow hope to take over his heart
once more? Danjiela had led him to Carol, and Carol to Abby. His
strength had been weaken with each shift; his heart tricked. He had
three strikes against him.  But would Abby lead to Irene? Had Carol
been a foul ball?

  He looked up at the sky, but the sun was not there to blind his
eyes, to help him cry. He desperately needed the rain to start
falling. At that very moment, he only wanted God to baptize him with
sweet, natural rain. He looked down at his feet, his toes emerging
from the golden sand. If he took a grain and destroy it, would the
ocean disappear? Of course not. If something happened to one little
grain of sand, the others wouldn't even notice. As he turned around
and headed towards his house he began to ponder: if Luka Kovac was
taken over by silence and solitude, lived in reclusion... would the
rest of the world even care?

~*~
 
  "Mama," Liliana said as she crawled over, used the couch to get to
her feet, and held on to it as she stretched her arm towards her
mother. "Mama," she repeated again to get some attention as Abby's
eyes glued themselves to a sitcom, her face monotonous.

  She finally heard her daughter and with a slight smile, looked down
at Liliana and picked her up in her lap. "What's the matter?" she
asked, only to have Liliana squeal and drop her little head between
her mother breasts.

  Abby chuckled slightly, kissing Liliana's head. "I love you too."

  Liliana pulled back to look at her mother with adoring eyes, and let
her little body fall against Abby's again.

  Abby put her hand on her daughter's head, stroking the silky hair
over and over. An uncontrollable urge to cry came over her, but she
brushed it off, kicked it away. There was no reason to cry, and it
wouldn't solve anything. She was alive, with her daughter. There were
more than enough things to be thankful for.

  There was a knock at the door, and as much as Abby wanted to sit
there forever, and avoid any kind of interpersonal relationship, her
body automatically stood up, dragging her daughter with her.

  "This better be good," she called out when she was a couple of feet
away from the door. With a lazy energy, Abby opened it up to reveal
her mother, with a huge grin on her face, and carrying what seemed
like millions of bags.

  "Guess who's baaaack!" Maggie sang as she stood there, one arm
raised in the air as if she was posing for a magazine.

  Abby frowned a little, and Liliana began to get excited on her arms.
"Mom..."

  "Oh, Abby, I'm so glad to be back," Maggie added as she threw all
her bags on the floor. She then walked over, and pulled Abby by the
neck, giving her a kiss on the cheek. She then bent down to Liliana's
height, letting out a playful gasp. "Are you going to say hello to
grandma?" she said in baby talk and grabbed Liliana away from Abby,
walking with her towards the living room.

  "Mom..." Abby let out a grunt as she tried to pull the bags over
inside. "I thought you were coming back in two days."

  Maggie, bouncing a giggling Liliana on her arms, looked back at Abby
with a huge smile. "You know, Eric is so busy, Abby. I just didn't
want to be a burden anymore."

  Abby raised her eyebrows slightly, looking at her mother. "A burden?
You?" she muttered sarcastically as she bent down to pick up the rest
of the bags. When she was finally able to close the door, she looked
down at all the luggage on the floor. Putting her hands on her waist,
she looked at her mother. "Mom, why didn't you leave all these at your
apartment first?"

  "Because, I brought gifts," Maggie said simply and cheerfully. She
frowned spontaneously, leaning her body forward a little. "Abby don't
be such a grouch, you'll get wrinkles."

  Abby simply let out a little air through her nostrils and looked to
the side. As it turned out, even medicated, Maggie was simply too
cheerful for Abby to keep up with. It was something that scared her at
first, but after numerous surprise lithium level tests, she simply had
to deal with the fact that her mother was a morning person, and an
evening person, and a night person. Abby secretly envied that drive,
that optimism. While she was a 'glass is half empty' person, her
mother was a 'glass is to the top'. When Abby was a girl, she tried to
do everything differently from her mother. If Maggie said yes, Abby
said no. If Maggie went up, Abby went down. If Maggie slept, Abby
stayed up. If people found out they had things in common, perhaps it
would reinforce the belief that they were mother and daughter. No.
Maggie was not Abby's mother. Her real mother died in a car accident
when Abby was a baby and Maggie was simply an aunt who was raising
her.

  The lie went a long way, until Maggie found out, and made Abby tell
all of her friends the truth.  When the anger dispersed, Abby found
her mother crying alone on her bedroom. Another depressive episode?
Abby always knew she had caused Maggie's tears. Yet as her mother's
pain made her feel miserable, she tried to keep her chin up. She had
to keep her chin up. Night after night, she went to bed muttering her
mantra, "I am not manic depressive. I am not manic depressive. I am
not manic depressive..."

  So, Abby's pessimism had been adopted rather than inherited. She
hated when Maggie was manic with a passion she didn't know she had.
Her mother's feelings of grandiose, of beauty, of confidence and
euphoria had embarrassed Abby in more ways than one. At an early age
she decided she would be Maggie's opposite. So much was the conviction
that Abby's plan became Abby, and it followed her throughout her life
closely, and ruined it more than once.

  "You're getting so big!" Maggie exclaimed as she deposited kisses
all over the baby's face.

  Abby walked over and sat on the couch, crossing her legs and
watching Maggie and her baby. Maggie finally had a grand daughter, and
it seemed that her mother was truly happy. How can being a grandmother
make someone so happy? And how come being a mother didn't make Abby
so? It was another thing Maggie seemed to be good at, and she didn't.

  Maggie sat on the floor with the baby in her lap and began to play
with the baby's toys, both giggling. "You know, I was thinking maybe
we can go to Disney World next summer," Maggie said, with her back to
Abby. When her daughter didn't answer, she turned around to ask, "What
do you think?" Only a small smile lingered when she saw Abby, looking
straightforward into nothingness.

  "Honey, are you ok?" Maggie asked, pulling Abby out of her world.

  Abby's head jerked up a bit and looked down at Maggie. "What?" she
asked and quickly added, "Yeah, fine." Clearing her throat, she stood
from the couch and walked immediately to the kitchen to put the
remaining of a simple dinner away.

  Maggie picked up Liliana in her arms and followed Abby, resting
against the counter as Abby washed some dishes, avoiding her stare.

  "What's wrong, Abby," Maggie asked in a serious tone.

  Abby shook her head slightly, trying to concentrate on the dishes.
There was one thing she hated the most about relationships, and that
was when people could look right through her. She knew Maggie was
reading her like a children's book. No matter how much she tried to
close the pages, they seemed to open with the wind when Maggie was
around. It happened with Carter too, and with Luka. It was like
pushing walls. But it irked her the most with Maggie, because she
hadn't been a mother, she had been someone Abby had to take care of.
When Abby had questions, Maggie's answers were either absent of
reshaped by madness. So when Maggie decided to move to Chicago, and
for the first time in her life Abby had a 24 hour mother, all hell
broke lose. How could she get into a mold which didn't hold her shape?
How could she get used to Maggie worrying about her? Making decisions
for her? Being right? Five long years and she still couldn't.

  So there were no secrets to keep anymore, she decided. Maggie knew
too well.

  "Luka was here," Abby said without much thinking, scrubbing on a
plate.

  "What?" Maggie whispered, surprised, her heart actually beating
faster.

  Abby cleared her throat again. "He... came for a conference," she
mumbled.

  "What happened?" Maggie urged on as Liliana cooed and played with
her necklace.

  Abby shrugged her shoulders and gave her mother a dry smile. "He
left." Her arms fell to the side, producing a slap, and she grabbed a
towel to begin cleaning the table.

  Maggie bit her lower lip, and immediately set the baby on the high
chair. She looked at Abby for a second, trying to think of what to
say, what to ask. Five years of speculations, of questions, of pep
talks, of encouragements. It was one of those moments which required
to heat up the pop corn and take out the ice cream. But Maggie knew it
was still thin ice, very thin and slippery. Abby never talked about
Luka, never even gave out any references. The little that Maggie knew
was that Luka had moved away to Dallas because Mark had died. That he
wanted to get married but that Abby didn't love him. Everything else
she kept a secret. Whenever Maggie would try to ask Abby any further
questions, her daughter would simply use any means to avoid telling
the answers.

  "What happened, Abby?" Maggie asked again, in a more authoritarian
way.

  Abby stopped what she was doing, looking down. "He left," she
repeated in an almost inaudible tone.

  "Honey," Maggie whispered, rubbing her daughter's back. Maggie
jumped back when in return, Abby rested her head on her mother's
shoulders. Her arms quickly embraced Abby, stroking her hair. She felt
overwhelmed by her daughter's sudden hurricane of emotions, and
confused. But trying to put two and two together didn't take her two
and two seconds.

  "Abby," Maggie said, pushing her daughter off her, looking her in
the eyes. "You were in love with him?"

  Abby just nodded, looking down, and closing her eyes tight when her
mother pulled her into her chest again.

  Maggie embraced Abby tighter, almost crying herself. "Abby why don't
you call him?"

  "No," Abby cried.

  "Honey..."

  "No," Abby repeated stronger.

  Maggie pulled back and grabbed Abby's upper arms, staring straight
into her eyes. "Is he married?"

  Abby tried to avoid Maggie's stare, and just shook her head no. "He
has a girlfriend."

  Maggie stared at her daughter with honest pity. Sometimes Abby's
inactivity frustrated her to the point of anger. She knew she was the
reason as to why Abby often stayed at the bottom, only looking at the
top with desire, but never reaching up. She should have felt guilt
instead of anger, which is why she promised she would always do what
was best for Abby, try to compensate for all those lost years.

  "Abby," Maggie whispered. When Abby didn't look at her, she grabbed
her hand. "Abby, don't make the same mistake I made."

  Abby looked at her at that, but not the way Maggie wanted her to.
"I've heard that story too many times, mom."

  "You know it's true," Maggie added as her daughter picked up Liliana
and walked away from the kitchen.

  Maggie followed her into the nursery, adding sternly. "Abby, your
daughter needs a father. You haven't been on a date in years."

  "I don't need a man to help me with that," Abby mumbled as she began
to change the baby's diaper.

  "Yes you do, honey. You do!" Maggie added with passion. "What are
you going to do when she asks you who her father is?"

  "I'll tell her the truth," Abby added.

  "And then what?" Maggie added, waiting for an answer, and got none.
She lowered her tone of voice and got closer. "Abby, children need a
father."

  "I didn't have a father," Abby said defensively.

  "Yeah, and you turned out so great," Maggie said sarcastically.

  Without saying anything, Abby picked up her baby, gave her a
pacifier and put her in the crib. Closing the door behind her, she
went to the living room, turned off the television and began to clean
the rest of the apartment as anger began to consume everything inside
of her.

  Maggie stood in the nursery for a moment, looking at the closed
door. She walked over to the crib, and kissed Liliana's head. "Go to
sleep, honey."

  She found Abby in the kitchen, cleaning up, and stood there for a
moment before she said something. "Sorry. I'm sorry, Abby. I- I didn't
mean that."

  "Yes you did," Abby said casually as she cleaned the table.

  Maggie walked over some more, trying to cup Abby's face with her
hands. "No, honey..."

  "And it's true!" Abby exclaimed looking at her mother through angry
eyes. With a mirthless chuckle, she clapped her hands once and began
to pace around the kitchen. "I mean, look at me, I can't even keep a
man down..."

  "Abby..." Maggie followed, trying to stop her.

  "It took me, what? Two years to open up to Luka? And that makes it,
how many, mom? Three, four guys who leave? Forget it, I'm not... I'm
not, just dating anymore. That's it for me. I have a daughter, I don't
need any sperm. And even if I did..."

  "ABBY!" Maggie had to yell, holding her daughter's face. "Shut up
and listen to me," she hissed. "You are a grown woman, Abby. You have
a daughter, who needs a father. You think she doesn't, but she does.
Even if you never get married again, what are you going to do with
yourself when Lily goes to college? When she gets married and moves
away?" Maggie asked, but Abby didn't answer.

  She let go of Abby's face, but continued talking. "Abby, do you
think it's easy for me? Going to bed alone every night? Honey, I don't
want that for you."

  Abby shook her head, walking away. "I can't do anything about Luka."

  "You can call him. Just to talk, honey, just talk," Maggie said.

  "He's the one who left, mom. If he wanted to stay he would have
stayed," Abby added, turning off the lights.

  Maggie pressed on her lips tight, wanting to cry, watching as her
daughter took the same steps she took, and not being able to do
anything about it.

  "Besides, he's seeing someone," Abby added in anger.

  Maggie tipped her head to the side, following Abby with her eyes.
"Abby, even if you don't call him, please, go out with someone, get
yourself a boyfriend."

  But Abby didn't reply. She ignored her mother and turned off the
lights of the kitchen.

  Maggie threw the towel, and began to pick up her bags, leaving the
one containing the gifts. When the silence began to escalate into
tension, she decided to stop it. "Abby, did he leave or did you ask
him to leave?" Maggie asked calmly, resting her hand on the door knob,
looking at her daughter's dropped head.

  "Forget about Luka, mom," Abby replied.

  "Why? Because you can't?" Maggie added, and didn't wait for a
response. She left her daughter behind in the darkness, accompanied by
anger, regret, and fear.

~*~

  How do you clean a ceiling? Do you just find a bucket and a mop and
maneuver to clean upside down? Or do you just throw a towel repeatedly
onto it, trapping the dirt with it?

  Luka's could use a cleaning. As he laid on his bed, it was all he
could think about. Maybe tt was because his eyes were wide open,
staring at the ceiling of his room. But he knew that if he closed his
eyes, he'd have to start thinking again. No, this was much better.
Maybe he could call some kind of cleaning company to stop by. Maybe he
could hire a cleaning lady to do the work for him. There were spider
webs on the corners and around the lamp. He didn't think they did it
with a hose, right? That would flood the room.

  His eyes found a chair in a corner, next to his desk. Maybe if he
deep cleaned the whole house, the thoughts would stay away. If you're
not trying to think about something, does thinking about not thinking
about it counts as thinking about it?

  In the middle of the long equation, he heard the door open.

  "Luka?"

  Luka closed his eyes, and without much thought called out, "In the
room."

  He heard her steps approaching, one by one, closer with each passing
second. When he raised his head he saw her there, always looking like
a Polynesian princess. Her hair was down to her waist, and her face
was serene, with a smile pasted on it; her dark eyes looking down at
him.

  "When did you get in?" Irene asked as she walked over, and laid down
on the bed next to him.

  "Last night," Luka added, putting an arm around her and kissing her
head. "Sorry, I should have called you."

  "Yes you should have," Irene joked, resting her head on his chest.

  "Hmm," Luka just added, still looking at the spider webs,
concentrating on the spider webs. As his fingers began to entangle
themselves in her hair, his stomach began to get upset. He felt as if
he had cheated on her. He had left her behind and had confessed his
love to another woman. He had tried not to think of her, and instead
had been thinking of Abby. Yes, that was infidelity, and it was two
fold, because as he laid there with Irene, he felt as if he was
cheating on Abby.

  "You have to do something about the living room, it's filling with
sand again," Irene said, her eyes closed.

  "I like sand," Luka answered, as if he had been waiting to say those
words. He opened his eyes, finding the spider webs still there, and
thinking maybe he wouldn't be getting rid of them after all.

  Irene raised her head and looked up at him. "Are you hungry? I
brought Thai," she teased, getting off the bed.

  "Hm, can't I eat here?" Luka moaned.

  "No," Irene smiled. "You'll get ants."

  "I like ants," Luka protested again but it was too late, she was
already dragging him by his hand. With a grunt, he stood up, and
followed her into the kitchen, where she began to set the table.
Filling with sand? There were like three or four grains of sand on the
floor. Three or four didn't count. One didn't count. He stood there
for a moment, thinking of what to say, wishing the television was on.

  He felt like a stranger in somebody else's home. He felt as if he
had a big secret and couldn't tell Irene. It would be so simple to sit
her down and whisper, "I see dead people." But he didn't see dead
people. He didn't even see the life in people, could only see the
death in himself.

  When she was done setting the meal, he sat down, and dumped the
contents of a small box on the plate. A thought suddenly occurred to
him, and he jerked his head up immediately. "What did you wanna talk
about?"

  "What?" Irene asked as she fixed her dinner.

  "On the phone," Luka answered. "You said we needed to talk."

  "Oh," Irene said consciously. "Maybe after dinner."

  Luka frowned, "Why?"

  Irene took a deep breath and looked up, "Because we're eating, Luka.
I don't like to talk while I'm eating."

  Dropping the subject, Luka decided to concentrate on his food and
anticipate the chat. He had made his head hurt once thinking about it,
and he wouldn't do it tonight. The sun had gone down already, but had
left a purple sky behind, illuminating a small portion of the sea.

  He looked up at Irene. God, she was so beautiful. How they came to
get together, he'll never know. She asked him out, set the date, set
the second date and the third. At worked they talked about him being
whipped, a term he learned from Dave. So what if she was a go getter?
He liked that in a woman. Better whipped than lonely, that was for
sure. Besides, he wasn't whipped. He demanded just as much of her as
she did of him. Maybe a little less. Just a little. Not too much.

  But he hated these silences while they ate. Hated them with passion.
He never knew where to look, what to do, how to act. Look at her while
she ate? It made him uncomfortable. The whole thing made him feel like
an idiot, starring down at his rice. Next time maybe he could try some
music. If there was a next time.

  After what seemed like hours, Irene finally finished and they both
took their plates to the sink.

  "That's ok, I got it," Irene said, taking the plate away from him.

  "You sure?" Luka asked.

  "Yeah," she added and began to clean all the dishes.

  Luka stood there with his hands on his pockets for a moment.
Hesitantly, he walked away, opening the sliding door on his living
room and stepping out into the small porch. Fortunately, the ocean was
normal now, which was comforting. The tide was high, making the waves
almost devour the shore, but Luka did not fear. He leaned against the
wooden rail and looked out into the darkness.

  Somehow he felt as if a big transition was about to happen. He just
wasn't sure he wanted it to be in San Diego anymore. Three years.
Maybe it was time to pick up his bags again; go to the south, maybe
open up his own practice in the Falkland Islands.

  He suddenly felt Irene's hand traveling through his back, and he
stood up straight, watching as she stood next to him.

  "You like the ocean," she said as she stared straight ahead.

  "Yeah," Luka added, waiting for her to get to the point. She stood
there for a moment in silence, staring ahead, her hand resting on his
hip. He looked down at his feet, kicking some of the sand away from
the wooden floor.

  "Have you ever been to Hawaii?" she suddenly asked, not removing her
eyes from the darkness.

  Luka looked down at her, frowning slightly, wondering why she
wouldn't get to the point already. "No."

  "I haven't been there in a long time," Irene added, and finally
looked up at Luka. "How would you feel about going?"

  Luka frowned some more as ignorance prevented him from thinking too
far from reality. "Like a vacation?"

  Irene blinked hard, and looked around her for a moment. "Uh," she
started, avoiding his stare. "No. Uh, they're... they're transferring
me back to Hawaii."

  Luka raised his eyebrows wide, trying to say something, trying to
think. "Wh-why?" he asked.

  Irene scratched her temple, still looking to the side. "I, um, I
asked for a transfer," she said simply.

  Luka opened his mouth in disbelief. "You what? And... you didn't
tell me? Wh..."

  "We weren't going out yet, Luka," Irene interrupted him. "And, I
thought they had forgotten about it. I didn't think they would
actually transfer me."

  "That's what they do when you ask for a transfer, Irene. They
transfer you," Luka added, feeling mad. Feeling mad. He had no idea
why. Irene wasn't supposed to leave him like that. She was supposed to
stay and take Abby's place, if that was possible. But she wasn't
supposed to leave.

  Irene looked up, playing with the waist of his pants. "Come with
me."

  Luka shook his head and looked away, getting too much air into his
lungs. "Irene..."

  "Luka, my family is there. I miss them. I haven't seen them in
years," she added.

  Luka kept the air in his lungs. He hadn't seen his family in years,
but that didn't mean he would move back to Croatia. The thought hadn't
even crossed his mind. He wouldn't be going back to Croatia, and he
wouldn't be going back to Chicago. You simply did not go back to
places where your heart has been shredded. You just don't.

  He looked down at her face, trying to find something. "Irene," he
added but didn't know what to add. "I live here."

  "We could live there," she told him.

  Luka shook his head slightly. "Why do you want me to go?"

  Irene looked up at him for a moment, and then to the side. "I don't
know." The air twirled her hair and she looked up at him again. "I
want you to come. Luka, you don't have a family here, only a couple of
friends. What's keeping you?"

  His hand began to shake, and he closed his fist to stop the
trembling. "What about my job?"

  "There's plenty of hospitals there," Irene added, but by the look on
his face she could tell he wasn't convinced. "Look, I know that we
don't even live together. But, the truth is I don't wanna leave you
behind. I just want us to spend more time together, and maybe
something will happen. But I don't wanna leave and then realize I made
a mistake by saying good bye."

  Luka bit on his lip. As much as he had wanted to avoid the headache,
there would be no stopping it now, not after this.

  "Just think about it, ok?" she added, holding his hand and getting
on her toes to give him a kiss.

  Time seemed to stop for a moment and when Luka came to, he found
himself alone. As he sat on a chair and rested his head on the wall,
he let the sounds of the night take control of him. Irene could take
Abby's place. Was he willing to risk everything yet again? Did he want
to move to China in a couple of years after Irene breaks his heart?
Like Abby did? Like Carol did? Like Danjiela did?

  He stood up, and gave his back to the ocean, walking into the house.
The four grains of sand were still resting on his floor, and as he
looked at them with indifference, he turned off the lights and headed
for his bedroom.

  The spider webs were still there, looking down at him. He closed his
eyes, but his body immediately began to toss and turn. It was still
early for sleep, but he found himself rejecting any other activity.

~*~

  Yet there were also things to regret. Abby stared at the ceiling of
her bedroom, looking at the spider webs that were beginning to form
around the light. She turned to the side, coming face to face with the
red numbers of her alarm clock, and laid on her back again.

  Of course you can raise a baby on your own, women did it everyday.
She raised her own brother, and she was just a little girl. And all in
all, Abby thought she came out ok. If there was something to blame, it
wasn't her father's absence, it was her mother's illness. Well Abby
wasn't ill, and she already had experience. She had a good job and
good friends. Lily had a grandmother, godparents and more than enough
comodities.

  And she couldn't sleep. Images kept dancing in front of her face,
like a hallucinatory slide show. Five years was such a long time. Five
years of silent tears and solitary yearning. Five years of secrets.
Secrets only she and Luka knew, and the rest of the world speculated.
She didn't have to explain the reason as to why she was adopting,
because she was single, and Liliana was practically dropped into her
arms. Not being able to have children of her own was still a major
source of angst. She would never be able to give Luka what he wanted.
No matter how much he said he was ok with it, she knew he wasn't. He
wanted to have children, and she could not give them to him. If she
accepted his proposal, in the end he would end up like Richard,
looking for that she couldn't give him in other places. Richard. They
all ended up like Richard.

  No. It was better this way. She had no trouble admitting herself she
still loved Luka. But their paths had diverged. He had a girlfriend in
San Diego, yet he had told her he still loved her. He was telling her
that, but what was he telling his girlfriend? Did he ever told her he
loved her? Were they living together? Could Irene take care of Luka
the way Abby could?

  She tossed again, fighting to keep the jealousy away. Luka was
better off with this new woman, who could probably give him children
and probably was normal. She had to keep him away, had to protect
herself and her daughter. She also had to protect Luka. Abby was like
poison, and she didn't want to kill him, like she knew she would.


... "Abby," he found her on the living room, unenthusiastically
changing channels on the television. "Abby, please, let's talk about
this."

  "There's nothing to talk about," she finally said, controlled by
anger and hopelessness.

  Luka stood there for a moment, watching her, wanting to touch her,
to turn back time. He walked over, and left the velvet box on the
couch next to her. "Keep it."

  She didn't even look at the box, just kept staring at the
television.

  Luka knelt by the couch, looking at her. "Abby, someone offered me a
job in Dallas."

  She looked at him when he said that, staring at him straight in the
eyes, a mix of emotions in her own.

  "I don't wanna go," Luka added. "But I'm thinking about it." He
watched as she looked down at her fingers, and he decided to continue.
"Abby, just ask me to stay and I'll stay. We can work this out."

  Abby watched as her fingers trembled, playing with each other.
Pessimism, her eternal enemy, had found a way to ruin her life once
more when she muttered the words she would never be able to take back.
"Go," she said and looked up at Luka. "We can't be happy, Luka. Just
go."...


  The sounds of a crying baby brought her back to the present, and
with a sigh, she stood up. When she walked into the nursery she found
her daughter crying, standing on the crib.

  "What's the matter, baby?" she asked as she picked Liliana up,
bouncing her slightly in her arms as she walked towards the bedroom.
"You're gonna be one soon, Lily. You can't sleep with mommy every
night."

  When Liliana stopped crying, Abby laid down on the bed, resting the
baby next to her. Through teary eyes and sucking on her thumb, the
baby looked at Abby, analyzing her intensely.

  Abby kissed her daughter's hand, closing her eyes and letting out a
deep breath. When she opened them, she saw Lily still looking at her.

  "Do you really need a dad?" Abby asked, looking at her daughter. "I
didn't have a dad, and... it's not that bad," she added, waiting for a
reaction. "And I promise you I'll be a good mom. I promise."

  Lily reached with her little hand and touched Abby's cheek,
lingering there.

  "I can't call him, baby," Abby added. "I told him to leave and he
left... twice."

  Liliana kept patting on Abby's face, as if it was a game.

  "I know you like him, but we're better off. And he's better off
without me," Abby said and kissed her daughter's head. "We'll meet
someone. You'll see."

~*~

  Luka looked at his shoes as he walked and they swung in front of
him, and back, only to come forth again. His hand traveled a path
through the white fence next to him as he fought to keep his head in
blank. He desperately wanted to talk to someone, get some advice. No
family, no friends. Irene was right. But he did have a friend, and
when he finally reached the house he was looking for, he pressed on
the bell as a dog came running forward.

  "Hi Howard," Luka said and patted on the dog's head a couple of
times.

  The dog kept smelling on his pants, and the door finally opened,
revealing and African American woman.

  "Luka! How are you?" she asked, rubbing Luka's arm.

  Luka smiled warmly, "Jan, how are you?"

  "Good, good," she said as she guided him in. "Here to see Tom?"

  "Is he awake?" Luka asked.

  Jan smiled, "I'll go get him." Luka followed her into the kitchen,
where she turned around. "Do you want something to drink? Something to
eat?"

  "No, I'm fine," Luka smiled, his eyes on a bowl of fruit on the
large kitchen.

  "Tom! Luka's back!" Jan called out.

  Luka looked around, with his hands on his pockets. There was a
freshly baked pie resting on the counter, and as he bent down to take
a closer look at it, someone walked in.

  "Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in," Tom said as he
walked in, heading towards Luka and shaking his hand, chuckling. "How
was Chicago?"

  Luka raised his eyebrows, "Never send me to a conference again."

  "Yeah, you're not kidding. Look at you, you look like shit," Tom
said, walking with Luka towards the back yard.

  "Thank you," Luka said. "Isn't it a little too early for that?" he
asked, pointing to the cigar on Tom's mouth.

  "This is a Cubano, Luka. Never too early," Tom answered as he sat
down on a chair near the pool, and offering Luka the other chair. "So,
to what do I owe this visit?"

  Luka rubbed his hands together, looking forward. "Well..."

  "Jan! Bring us some beers, will ya honey?" Tom called out.

  "Uh, no, I don't want a beer," Luka said quickly.

  "Bring me a beer! Bring Luka something else!" Tom added.

  "For God's sake, Tom, you're right next to the kitchen!" Jan
protested from somewhere around the house.

  "So," Tom added, ignoring his wife. "Where were we."

  Luka nodded slightly, off track. "Uh. Um, Irene's getting
transferred."

  Tom looked at Luka for a moment, and then raised his eyebrows in
recognition. "Oh yeah, Hawaii."

  "Yeah," Luka nodded.

  "Sorry about that," Tom said.

  Luka looked around, and then at Tom again. "She asked me to go with
her."

  Tom jerked his head back. "I didn't know you two were that serious."

  Luka scratched the side of his neck, resting his elbows on his
knees. "Um, no, I- I don't... I, I don't," he stumbled.
 
  "You're not sure?" Tom said.

  Luka let out a sigh, sitting back. "No."

  "Well, how do you feel about her?" Tom asked.
 
  Luka stared at the water of the pool, trying to choose the best
words. "I, um," he shook his head, slapped his thighs and looked at
Tom. "I don't know."

  He took a deep breath, and continued. "There's, there's this other
woman."

  "Whoa," Tom interrupted him. "Here?"

  "No, in Chicago," Luka added.

  "Huh," Tom breathed.

  "It's over," Luka said uneasily. "It's been over for five years,
but..." he shook his head again, looking down. "I saw her again,
and... well..."

  "Now you're not sure about Irene," Tom said.

  "No," Luka added. "I mean, um, I want to move on, and maybe I can do
it with Irene. I-I, I just don't know... moving to Hawaii, it's a big
step."
 
  Tom nodded, and at the same time Jan walked in, with a beer in one
hand and a lemonade in the other. "Luka, are you sure you don't want
anything to eat?"
 
  Luka smiled at her, "No, I'm fine."

  "How come I don't get that treatment?" Tom asked.

  "I'm not your servant, Tom. If you want food, get it yourself," Jan
said, handing him the cold bottle.

  "Thank you, honey," Tom smiled and watched leave. He opened his beer
and with a grunt, leaned forward, taking a sip. He then turned to
Luka. "So, you think this thing with Irene can go further."

  Luka nodded slightly, "Maybe, yeah."

  "But you don't want to move to Hawaii to find out," Tom added.

  Luka thought for a moment, and added, "I don't mind Hawaii. It's
just that maybe it's too much."

  "So what happened with this Chicago woman?" Tom asked.

  Luka curled his mouth, shaking his head. "I proposed, she said no, I
moved away."

  Tom raised his eyebrows. "Well, if you think it can go somewhere
with Irene, then I'll see if I can get you a transfer. But at the same
time, I can also transfer you to Chicago. Want my advice?"

  "No," Luka said as he stood up.

  Tom chuckled and stood up to shake Luka's hand. "Sometimes we have
to take risks, man. When I was after Jan I had to wrestle her father.
Broke my arm too. But if I hadn't done it, God knows where I'd be
right now, probably getting my own beer."

  Luka nodded, smiling slightly. "Well you're right hook is very bad."

  Tom chuckled again, putting his fists in front of him like a boxer.
"Let me know one of these days, we'll go to the ring."

  "No thanks," Luka added, pushing Tom's fists away. "Thanks for the
talk."

  "No problem," Tom added. "Jan! Walk Luka out!"

  "Walk him out yourself!" Jan yelled.

  Tom smiled and followed Luka. "She's an angel."

  Luka just raised his eyebrows, and waved goodbye to Tom as he
stepped into the streets of San Diego, heading for his car. As he
looked up, the gray clouds seemed heavier than he had ever seen them
before; yet it would not rain. He knew God was holding the answer
right there on the clouds. He knew that his destiny would come to him
with the rain. But as he continued to look up, he watched as the
clouds flew away from him, taking his answer with them.

~*~

  "Emergency room," Maggie muttered as she opened up the yellow pages
with her glasses on, looking through. "Mercy, Presbyterian... County
General!" she exclaimed when she found the number. After grabbing the
phone, she dialed a couple of numbers and waited.

  "ER," an unenthusiastic voice replied.

  "Who's this?" Maggie asked, removing her glasses.

  "Randi," Randi answered.

  "Hi Randi! It's Maggie, Abby's mother," Maggie added.

  "Maggie!" Randi replied with more energy. "How are you? I haven't
seen you since Abby went up to OB."

  "Well, I've been busy." Maggie took a deep breath and continued.
"Randi, I, uh, I was wondering if you could give me some information."

  "Depends on what kind of information it is," Randi said.

  Maggie bit her lip, praying for positive results. "I, um, I was
wondering if you could tell me where Dr. Kovac is living now."

  "Didn't he go to Dallas?" Randi asked.

  "I, I think so, I just wanted to get his physical address? Maybe a
phone number?" Maggie asked.

  "I guess it would be on the computer, but that's private
information, I can get fired," Randi said.

  Maggie let out a sigh of defeat, "Ok..."

  "But," Randi added, interrupting her. "There's a difference between
official information... and gossip."

  A smile suddenly appeared on Maggie's face, "Right, gossip is
legal." She sat back as her old friend passed on the information she
knew. There was always something reassuring about people, and that is
no matter how much time goes by, the need and desire to gossip never
ceased. The older they get, the sneakier they become.

~*~

  Luka parked his car in the parking lot of the beach. The cold
weather had scared people away and the only signs of life were the
three surfers out in the sea, waiting for the perfect wave to ride.

  He let out a sigh and sat back, staring at the waves. He hated
making big decisions. Thoughts of Hawaii and Irene danced in his head
like a whirlwind. Thoughts of Abby and her baby following the previous
around. He knew that going to Chicago was not an option. The dilemma
wasn't Irene versus Abby. The dilemma was Irene versus his heart,
which was still in Chicago. He did not want to get hurt again. As much
as Irene wanted him to go, he knew she didn't love him, and he
certainly didn't love her. But it was not that. It was what she had
said. If he went with her, maybe they could grow into something
together, something good. He also did not want to let an opportunity
pass. Maybe Irene could erase Abby's memory, as Abby had erased
Carol's. And at the same time, he only had little gas left. Running on
fumes would mean a fall would come faster, yet at the same time less
painful.

  Hawaii. He knew the place was gorgeous, heavenly. Irene would be
with her family, happy. And Luka? Luka would be risking everything
again, giving everything again, getting hurt again. If that were the
case, maybe he wouldn't be losing much. He could always just stay in
Hawaii, practice medicine there. The thought was very enticing, and it
was romancing him fast. Hawaii, where the ocean was even more blue,
the waves more alive, the dolphins more friendly.

  When he got to California he thought he had reached the end, that he
was where the sun would set forever. But maybe he was wrong. He chased
after the sun, and the sun had guided him through his life. He had
watched many sunsets in San Diego and the sun was too far from his
grasp. The sun seemed to rest peacefully in Hawaii. Maybe he would
rest peacefully there as well.


To be continued...