"What?" She said after a long pause.

"Mom called me from the hospital about an hour ago," Ginger explained. "Dad died in his sleep early this morning. He had a heart attack."

"That can't be," she said in denial. "I just talked to him a couple of days ago; he was fine."

"None of us expected this," Ginger said, "but he's gone."

Burying her face in her free hand, she whispered, "No ... not dad..."

He knew something was wrong. He said quietly, "What's going on, Lathal?"

She waved him away. "...He can't be dead."

"I know you felt really close to Dad, Lathal, and this must be really hard for you to accept," Ginger said supportively. "Mom will call you at Malan's in a few minutes to tell you about the funeral arrangements. I got to go, Lathal, I got to book our flight. I'll see you when you get to Wisconsin."

A solemn expression was deeply etched on her face as she hung up the phone. Grave concern dominated his face. "Lathal, what's wrong?"

Tears quietly streamed down her cheeks. "My father died of a heart attack early this morning, Malan."

The news shocked to him. Her father, mother and two younger sisters had attended their graduation ceremony at North Central Texas University a couple of weeks ago.

He hadn't known her father that long, but he'd liked Mr. Harvey very much. Regret that he'd not had a chance to get to know Mr. Harvey better and a nagging sense of loss flooded him.

He held her close, whispering into her hair, "I'm sorry, Lathal."

He sat solid like a rock, providing comfort, support and love, while she cried in his arms. The somber silence was broken by the ringing of the phone.

Still cradling her in his arms, he picked up the phone. "Malan Hamel." He immediately recognized her mother's voice. "She's right here," he said, handing his fiance the phone.

She said mournfully, "Mom, are you OK?"

"I'll manage," Andria Harvey said, sounding tired and sad. "I'm at the hospital waiting for the coroners to sign your father's death certificate and I've called the funeral home about the arrangements."

After giving her a few moments to digest this information, her mother continued, "Lathal, the wake is Friday and the funeral is Saturday. Do you think you can get here before that?"

"Malan and I had planned to spend Christmas with his family in LA," she said without thinking.

Her mom scolded her sternly. "Lathal, this is your father's funeral we're talking about."

"Yes, Mother," she sighed. "I just have to find a way to be there -- somehow."

"Your sister, her husband and the baby got discounted round trip airline tickets because of a death in the family," her mother naggingly informed her.

"I'll keep that in mind," she said, rolling her eyes. "Don't worry I'll get there."

"I'll drive you," he softly interjected.

Lowering the phone slightly, she glanced at him concerned, "Malan, you should go spend the holidays with your family."

"I'm going with you, Lathal," he said insistently. "We'll leave late this afternoon after we finish tying up a few loose ends."

"That's fine," her mother said in approval.

She was surprised her mother didn't object that Malan was coming with her. But she shook off her surprise -- Malan had known her father and it was only natural he'd want to pay his last respects. Besides, they were going to be married in the spring.

"Don't forget to bring the pictures you have of your father. We're going to display them at the wake," her mother told her. "I'll see you soon. I love you, Lathal."

"I love you too, Mom," she said, hanging up.

Her whole body was shaking. She was trying to be strong and felt her resolve slipping with every passing moment. She offered him the phone. "Do you want to call your Mom?"

"Go ahead and call Brad first," he said graciously.

She called her boss Brad Sharpley at The Big Horn. Upon hearing about her father's death, he was immediately sympathetic and told her she'd have as much time off with pay as she needed.

She hung up. In that moment, the grief she felt about losing her father hit her like a wave crashing against a sandy beach. Her body felt like jello. Her strength crumbled like a demolished building as she broke down. The tears fell like rain from her eyes.

Embracing her tightly, he gently suggested, "You can lay down and cry on my bed if you want, Lathal."

Pain and sorrow swam in her misty bluish green eyes. "Are you going to come with me?"

"I will in a little while," he promised softly.

She nodded and then rose slowly. Wracked by grief, she stumbled. He was immediately by her side, catching her before she fell. He stayed beside her, and together they entered his bedroom.

The room was already dark since there was no windows and he hadn't bothered to turn on the lights. He turned down the blankets and sheets. She laid down on his bed; he tucked her in.

He gazed at her sympathetically. Although her tears had subsided somewhat, her breath still caught in her throat. His hands gently caressed her shoulders.

He leaned over and kissed her, "I love you, Lathal."

She mumbled incoherently.

"I'll be back shortly," he promised, tenderly kissing her lips.

He tip toed out of the room and went into the kitchen, turning off the stove and putting the meal he'd been preparing into the refrigerator. Then he called Suzanne Bentz, the director of the Falls Theater, where the professional theater company he belonged to performed. Since the theater didn't have any shows scheduled during the holidays, it was sort of pointless for him to call her. But he wanted her to know where he was in case she needed to find him.

She was sorry to hear the news, and she said his audition for the February show would be in mid January given the circumstances. He thanked her, hung up and called his mother.

"Hello," Clarissa Hamel said warmly.

"Mom, it's me," he said.

His mother noticed his serious tone. "Malan, are you OK?"

"We won't be able to spend Christmas with you all in LA," he sighed. "Lathal's father died and we're going to Wisconsin for the funeral."

"Oh my God," his mother said shocked. She had meet her future daughter-in-law's father for the first time at their graduation a few weeks ago. "How did he die?"

"He had a heart attack," he explained.

"It's such a shame," his mother said sympathetically. "Give my condolences and love to Lathal."

He said quietly, "I will."

"Do you two need anything? I can call the travel agency and get your tickets changed, which I'm sure we'll be no problem given the circumstances," Clarissa offered.

"Airports are crazy this time of year, so I'd rather not fly. I think it'll be faster if we drive. Lathal and I will leave this afternoon," he informed her, and then added. "But call the travel agency -- given the circumstances I'm sure they won't mind us using the tickets later."

"No problem," his mother said. "Take care of each other; call me when you get to Wisconsin."

"We will," he promised.

"I love you, Malan," Clarissa said.

"Love you too, Mom," he hung up, returning the cordless phone to its cradle.

He crept into his bedroom. She was snoring softly and he quietly slipped into bed beside her. He carefully slid his arm over her hips.

She stirred, murmuring, "Malan?"

"It's me," he softly confirmed, caressing her. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"It's OK," she assured him, stretching next to him.

The warmth of her body and sweetness of her lips flooded his senses as she kissed his lips. They'd been making out pretty heavily earlier -- and he was still aroused.

"Lathal," he murmured huskily.

She gazed deeply into his brown eyes. She stroked his cheek. "I love you, Malan."

"I love you too, Lathal," he said as their fingers intertwined and they kissed passionately.