Posted by Sassy_Catt

Serial 1

Life is a constant cycle of trials and tribulations -- and one of the many celebrations of good times was graduation.

But the excitement and fun with family and friends, along with a sense of accomplishment and completion, that marked this momentous experience seemed to get lost in the shuffle of the holidays. With the hustle and bustle of the approaching holidays, it was easy to forget to take time to savor these moments and feelings. There wasn't much time to think about the new journeys that would soon be beginning.

Speaking of fresh starts, commencement was only the beginning of much more -- especially for Malan Hamel and Lathal Harvey who would be beginning new lives together. On top of commencement parties and holiday festivities, the couple was busy planning their spring wedding.

Malan and Lathal had expected they'd have more flexible schedules after graduation from North Central Texas University. Instead, there was nonstop demands and errands. They felt stressed and frustrated since they hardly had any free time for themselves, much less each other.

They were considerably behind for the holidays. They'd decided to spend the holiday season with his family in LA. Somehow they managed to take care of their travel arrangements; other than that they hadn't done much shopping or decorating, and Christmas was less than a week away.

She had had it with the constant mad frenzy of the last few weeks. She was tired of running around town, its flooded streets, where many drove like maniacs or idiots. She was tired of fighting the crowds as she shopped in the malls and stores. She was tired of being at work, appointments or wherever on time. Most of all, she was tired of having her life so filled with activities and whatever else that she hadn't been with her fiance in -- God knows! The million things on her to do list could wait, she decided firmly, driving in the direction of her fiance's apartment near the North Central Texas University campus.

She flung her heavy wool coat onto the passenger seat after she'd stepped out of her compact car. She slightly pushed up the sleeves of purple, pink, white and black striped sweater. She hadn't had a white Christmas since she'd lived in Texas. The weather was fair -- and occasionally windy -- with temperatures in the 60s throughout the winter.

She wondered if Malan was even home. She glanced around the parking lot in front of his apartment that was nearly vacant. Many residents were out of town for the holidays. She reminded herself that she'd made the effort to come to spend time with her fiance and she intended to see it through. She sighed and climbed the stairs to his apartment, which was on the second floor on the right.

She lightly rapped on his door. Having heard the knocking, her prospective husband's neighbors peeked at her from behind the curtain hanging in their front window. His neighbors had seen her come over before -- and not leave until the morning. They probably didn't approve and thought she was a harlot for spending the night, but she didn't care -- as long as they didn't tell her parents who would definitely give her a lecture about her morally inappropriate behavior.

He's not home, she thought after she standing in front of the silent and unmoving door for a few minutes. Annoyed and disappointed she started to walk away, but the click of the door lock caught her attention. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw him casually leaning in the doorway.

She pivoted on her heels, revealing the warm smile highlighting her lips. "I thought you weren't home."

"Oh," he said, admiring her with shy appreciation. "I'm home."

"What have you been doing?" She said, walking into his apartment. "Didn't you hear me knocking?"

"Hmm.. nothing," he said, shaking off his distracting thoughts. "No, I was dragging my Christmas tree out of the attic."

She rubbed her hands together like a villain plotting a diabolical scheme. "Great! Let's get to it."

He smiled. Since he hadn't been with her since God knew when, it'd be fun to spend some time with her enjoying the merriment of the holidays with her.

"Wouldn't you rather have a real tree?" She said, pulling the pieces of his artificial tree out of the box.

He knelt down beside her, helping her assemble the base. "A live tree is such a hassle. Besides it's so sad when you have to throw it out after the holidays."

She nodded in agreement as they arranged the branches on the tree. "You do the lights, I'll put up the ornaments."

"I'm afraid I don't have many ornaments," he confessed as he searched his closet for his Christmas decorations.

"It's OK. We could always make popcorn garland and fruit ornaments," she smiled.

"I remember doing that as a child," he said wistfully setting the few boxes of decorations he had near the tree.

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A dreamy sparkle gleamed in her eyes. "If I'd known, I would have brought the few ornaments I had. Some of them are old ornaments that hung on our family's tree in my youth we made in school out of those metal canning lids."

"I love you, Lathal." He brushed his lips against her cheek. She turned her head, her mouth meeting his. He cupped the curves of her face with his hands as they kissed passionately. "Can you stay for dinner?"

"If you're cooking, of course," she teased.

"I think that can be arranged," he laughed appreciatively as he rose and moved into the kitchen.

She put the ornaments on the tree while he started dinner in the kitchen. After a few minutes,he re-entered the den. She was sitting on the couch and he sat beside her.

She critically evaluated the sparsely decorated tree. "I'll bring my ornaments to add to your tree when I come to visit you tomorrow."

"Good," he said, beckoning her with his finger. "Come here."

Sliding closer to him, she gazed at him invitingly. He gently pulled her down on top of him, wrapping his arms around her. He relaxed his shoulder blades on the couch's cushioned arms. He gazed down at her tenderly as his fingertips stroked the tendrils of her hair.

She laid her head on his chest and listening to the rhythmic sounds of his heart beating. She snuggled close to him, pressing her lips against his neck.

He moaned in pleasure. "Lathal."

"Yes?" She whispered as he tenderly kissed her lips.

"I haven't gotten you anything for Christmas yet," he softly confessed with regret between kisses.

"Me either," she admitted with the same regretful tone. "But I was thinking of putting myself under the tree."

"I wouldn't mind that," he said, his tone suggesting he'd had similar thoughts to hers. "After dinner, we could do some shopping."

"Sounds like a plan," she said, slightly shifting her body into a more comfortable position beside him.

He gave her a quick peek on the forehead in agreement. But he was overwhelmed by how much he badly he wanted and needed her. His expression softened as he pulled her into his embrace.

"I've missed you," he said, gently caressing her.

"Me too," she softly agreed.

They gazed deeply into each other's eyes. It was a tender, intimate moment when time stood still and everything in the world was right.

"I love you, Lathal," he murmured huskily.

"I love you, Malan," she whispered tenderly.

They kissed hungrily again and again. Her taunt breasts brushed against his chest; his erection pressed between her legs. They were making out heavily on the couch when his phone rang.

He groaned in protest at the phone still buzzing in demand for his attention. "No, it's not fair."

"Malan," she teased.

He planned to ignore or let his answering machine pick up the call, but both knew he couldn't do that considering directors or his agent might be calling about theatrical productions or commercials.

Regretfully pulling away, he stretched to pick up the cordless phone setting on the coffee table in front of the couch. "Malan Hamel," he said in mild annoyance. He looked at her. "Yes, she's right here."

As he handed her the phone, she wondered who would be calling her here. She'd only given her fiance's number to her boss at the newspaper and her mother.

"Hello?" She said cautiously.

"Lathal, I have some bad news," her sister Ginger said somberly.

Immediately she thought something bad had happened to her 1-month-old niece. Maybe her sister's baby had gotten very sick and was in the hospital, or worse she was dead.

"What's wrong?" She said, trying to keep her voice strong and calm.

Ginger broke into sobs. "Dad died today, Lathal."

 

Serial 2

"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."

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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 tiptoed 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.

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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.

He wanted to make love to her -- and while they probably both wanted to be intimate with each other -- neither were any condition or the right frame of mind. She sensed his longings and needs -- they hadn't made love in a long while; she wanted and needed him as badly as he did her -- but to make love to him wouldn't be right in her current emotional state.

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.

 

Serial 3

Although they wanted to linger in bed -- they'd had to get going.

Gently pulling away from him, she slid out of his bed, "It's extremely cold in Wisconsin right now so you might want to bring warm clothes and a jacket."

"Right," he said, rising from his bed. "With the snow and freezing weather, I think we should take your car instead of mine."

"That's fine," she said.

She joined him at the closet, where he picked out the clothing he needed for their trip. He pulled out a black suitcase and set it on the bed. She helped him fold and arrange his clothing in his suitcase.

He went into the bathroom and packed his razor, comb, cologne and other personal hygiene items into a small black bag. He returned to the bedroom and threw the bag in with the scripts and plays he was reviewing for auditions he had in the new year that he'd packed in his black back pack.

He zipped his suitcase up, rolling it out into the den; she followed him. "Do you have any photos of my father?"

"I think so," he said, her question reminded him to take his Nykon 35 mm camera. He'd taken many photos with this camera, which his parents had given him for Christmas when he was 14 years old. "Why?"

"My mother wanted me to bring pictures of my father to be displayed at the wake."

His fingertips brushed against the piles of photos he kept in the few portfolios he had. He flipped through the albums pulling out the few pictures he had of her father. Tears misted in her eyes as she looked through the pictures.

He wrapped his arms around her, wishing he could make the grief she was feeling go away. "Can I have your keys?" She fished her keys on her Girl Scout key chain out of the bottom of her purse handing them to him. "I'll drive you to Tanya's house so you can pick up your stuff."

They left his apartment; he locked up behind them. They loaded his suitcase and black back pack into her compact car, and he drove the 10 minutes to the Johnson's house. Their friends lived in a middle class neighborhood, a few blocks west of North Central Texas University's campus.

She'd moved out of North Central Texas University's dorms her senior year and went to live with their longtime friends Tanya and Bryant Johnson. The Johnsons charged her $250 a month for rent.

They'd known the couple, who had married three years ago, since high school. The Johnsons were pregnant with their a daughter before they married. Now they juggled finishing college with their marriage and parenthood.

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They drove up the Johnson's paved driveway. The Johnson had their house built a few years ago. The yellow house had four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a two-car garage, porch, a big yard and a large basement and that's where she stayed.

Their friend, Bryant, who worked at the local bank, wasn't home yet, but his wife, Tanya, who worked as a dance instructor, was home with their daughter, Trisha. They were busy coloring at the kitchen table when they came into the house.

Tanya looked up at them with surprise. The Johnsons hardly ever caught Lathal and Malan together. They had attended their friends' graduation from North Central Texas University three weeks ago. Even though they'd invited Lathal and Malan for Christmas and New Year's dinner, they wouldn't spend any time with their friends since they were going out of town for the holidays.

Matter of fact, Lathal was barely around their house. It didn't bother her but her friend practically lived with Malan, or she was at work.

But Tanya rarely saw Malan. She occasionally watch her friend's fiance's performances at the Falls Theater or bumped into him around town.

Of course, 3-year-old Trisha Johnson immediately bounded over to Lathal and Malan. Although her parent's friends weren't blood relations, the girl loved them like they were family and referred to them by the honorary title of aunt and uncle.

With her pigtails sticking out like little wings on opposite ends of her head, Trisha warmly embraced them by latching one arm around Malan's leg and the other around Lathal's leg. "Auntie Lathal, Uncle Malan."

Tanya rose from her kitchen chair and pulled her daughter off her friends' legs. "Hey, you two," she smiled, gesturing toward the vacant dining room chairs. "Sit down and take a load off."

Even though her aunt and uncle didn't take a seat, Trisha climbed into her chair and returned to her coloring. Tanya noticed Lathal's teary eyes and serious expression; her smile faded.

Tanya pulled out the chair and looked her daughter in the eyes. "Trish, go play in the living room."

"I don't wanna," Trisha protested.

"This is adult talk, honey," Tanya said gently. "Please do what I say."

"All right," Trisha pouted, scampering off into the living room.

Turning toward her friends, Tanya said concerned, "Lathal, what's wrong?"

She sighed heavily, "My father died."

"What?!?" Tanya said shocked. "What happened?"

"He had a heart attack in his sleep early this morning," she explained. "We're leaving tonight to drive to Wisconsin for my father's funeral at the end of this week."

"I'm so sorry, Lathal," Tanya hugged her friend. "Is there anything I can do for you guys?"

She briefly thought about it. "I haven't had a chance to figure out how we're going to get to Wisconsin yet."

Tanya offered, "I'll do that while you pack."

"Thanks," she said before she went alone into the basement to pack.

After pulling the road map out of a drawer in the kitchen, Tanya spread it out on the table. Malan sat down beside her and together they looked it over.

Tanya glanced at him, "Aren't you going to help Lathal?"

"She doesn't need my help," he said quietly. "Besides, I wanted to give her some time to herself."

"This is a difficult time for her, Malan," Tanya reminded him.

"I know," he nodded, "but she'll be OK -- she's strong."

Agreement gleamed in Tanya eyes. Then she returned her attention to the map. "Where does Lathal's mom live?"

"In Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin," he said.

Tanya traced her finger along the map from Texas to Wisconsin, "It looks like it's a straight shot. You take I-35 until you get to Minneapolis/St. Paul and then you take I-95 to Chippewa Falls."

She stood there with her blue suitcase and matching back pack. "Are you ready, Malan?"

"Yes," he said, rising from his seat. "Do you have your pictures of your father?"

She patted the front of her backpack. "I've got them right here."

"Do you have everything you need?" He asked.

"I think so," she said.

Tanya handed her the map, "You better take this with you."

"Thanks," she said. "We'd better go."

Tanya called to her daughter. "Trish, come say goodbye to your Auntie Lathal and Uncle Malan."

"Later gators," Trisha said, running into the room, giving her parent's friends a quick hug, and then dashed out of the kitchen.

Tanya hugged Malan. "You two be careful."

"We will," he promised.

Then Tanya hugged Lathal, "Take care of each other."

"We will," she promised and then they departed, loading her stuff into the car.

She didn't feel up to driving so she let him drive the first day. She could drive later on when they got closer to Wisconsin.

Since they lived in a suburb of Dallas they were on the highway almost immediately.

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He slapped on his shades to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun. The interstate was already flooded with rush hour traffic even though it was early in the afternoon. He frowned in annoyance -- he should have figured that there'd be lots of people traveling the highways during the holiday season.

She scribbled in a notebook she'd pulled out of her back pack that she had resting near her feet. He glanced over at her, "What are you doing?"

Her eyes watered with tears. "Since I didn't get a chance to tell my father goodbye, I'm writing him a letter."

"That's a good idea," he said supportively. "How far do you want to go today?"

She consulted the map, "We should try to travel about half way -- which is Des Moines, Iowa."

He nodded, "Sounds good."

She alternated between writing and reading until 6 p.m. when it got dark. Although they were hungry, they decided not to have dinner until they stopped for the night.

They arrived in Des Moines about 11:30 p.m. She and her fiance couldn't afford to stay at a hotel, so they settled for a motel like Lucky 7s. He checked into the motel. She was too worn out to care that he'd registered them like they were a married couple. Besides, it didn't matter -- they were going to be married in May.

Whenever they stayed the night at a motel the management assigned them to an upstairs room, and once again that was the case. They shoved the bare necessities they needed for the next day in their back packs before climbing to their room at the top of the stairs. Their non-smoking room, which faced the pool, had two king-sized beds.

After they went to the bathroom and took all the small, courtesy soaps and shampoos, they went to the Lenny's she's seen that wasn't very far from the motel. The meal passed in a blur since they both were so tired.

They returned to their motel room at 12:30 a.m. Since they were both so sleepy, they quickly got ready for bed.

He locked the door, closed the drapes and turned down the sheets. She donned her silky peach sleeveless nightie and he stripped down his briefs.

She laid with her back toward him, and he climbed into bed beside her, pulling the covers around them.

He tightly wrapped his arms around her slender body. Lightly kissing the long strands of hair that lay near her ear, he said softly. "I love you, Lathal."

"I love you, Malan," she murmured back.

With that, they both fell into a deep sleep.

 

Serial 4

The sunlight that peeked under the drapes warmed her body. She was awake.

She rolled over on her side. He was still asleep. He was a handsome man, but he looked so cute when he was asleep.

Her gaze swept appreciatively down his body. She smiled with pleasure at his erect manhood, but she knew it was usually a common morning occurrence for men. Her fingertips lightly stroked down his face, neck, chest and stomach. She didn't know what time it was. The lingering darkness meant it was still early in the morning. It seemed like a shame to wake him, but they probably should get on the road before it got much later.

Her desires raged inside her. They hadn't made love in three weeks. It didn't seem like the right reason but she knew they definitely couldn't make love at the mother's house. Even though she might not be in the right emotional state, right now she really needed him.

She leaned over slightly and softly kissed his lips. He mumbled with pleasure. He held her tightly against him as he returned her kisses with equal tenderness and passion.

Gently disengaging, she smiled affectionately, "Good morning, sleepy head."

"Good morning," he smiled back, his fingers ran through his disheveled hair. "How long have you been awake?"

"Not long," she said softly.

He stretched lazily beside her. "I guess we should get up and get going."

"There's no rush," she said gently, hungrily kissing his lips.

She slid her hands into his briefs. She lovingly fondled his erect manhood. He writhed with excitement beneath her.

He said breathlessly, "Lathal."

"Yes, Malan?" She said in a sweet and seductive tone.

"I want you, baby," he said, his husky voice heavily laced with longing, "but I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," she assured him, kissing him hard on the lips before he had a chance to argue with her.

He didn't resist. He needed this as badly and as much as she did.

She tauntingly grazed her taunt breasts against his chest. She temptingly gyrated her hips, repetitively rubbing her womanhood over his erect manhood.

She stripped him of his briefs. She lightly traced her tongue down his neck, chest, stomach and thighs. She teasingly licked his erection and then gently sucked on it.

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The throbbing and pulsating sensations between his loins tingled throughout his entire body. He was breathing hard. His pulse quickened. He lovingly caressed her all over. He repetitively slid his tongue inside her mouth as his lips devoured hers.

She drove him wild, and he enjoyed it. She knew how to turn him on. She knew she was the only one who could ever please, satisfy and complete him; he wanted nothing more than to show her how deeply he loved her.

He slowly slid her silky nightie off her slim, sensuous body. Then he removed her white cotton panties.

They appreciatively admired each other for a moment. The hunger and love danced in the bluish green pools of her eyes. She looked deeply into his brown eyes, pleading with him: Please, Malan, make love to me.

He kissed her as he gently slid his manhood inside her. They rocked together rhythmically. They'd been learning the art of lovemaking together since they'd been making love since London that summer.

She had accompanied him when he competed in the national university drama festival in Hawaii the spring semester of their senior year at North Central Texas University. Following the festival, they'd agreed to break up since she was interning as Associated Press' international correspondent in Europe for the summer. Considering what they might have experienced in the past, she didn't want him to have to endure another long distance relationship so she thought it was best for both of them to split up for awhile.

That summer had been miserable for him. He became like Hamlet. He constantly wore black, moped around campus and was alone for the most part. He couldn't imagine -- nor did he want to -- being with any woman but her.

Then he became involved with another journalist in a feeble attempt to replace her. That relationship ended in utter disaster. Thanks to his friends -- the young journalism student and his mentor and theater professor dean Paul Lerm -- he went to London to do summer stock.

When he first arrived in London, he knew Lathal was working there. Their destiny had been written in the stars -- they were soul mates who were meant to be together forever throughout all time.They'd made love for the first time in London.

The tendrils of her blonde hair fell like angel's wings around her taunt breasts as she rode on top of him. His tongue licked her firm, pink nipples and she shuttered with pleasure. His mouth gently sucked on her breasts. She squirmed more quickly, expertly rocking repetitively back and forth.

Her hips gyrated in smooth circles as if she was performing a precise dance routine, her muscles tightly squeezed his manhood. He was inexorably tender with her, gently probing his erection around inside her womanhood.

She softly panted like an animal in heat, murmuring in pleasure. "Malan, I want you to come inside me."

He groaned softly. He usually withdrew so he didn't ejaculate inside her. They weren't married yet and he didn't want to risk getting her pregnant, especially since they didn't use any protection during intercourse. When she was a teen, she had had a bad experience with the pill and her didn't blame her for not wanting to use it; he disliked using condoms -- making love to her wasn't the same experience if he had a rubber raincoat covering his manhood.

Their excitement heightened -- she was so wet and so was he. Their coupling increased, their bodies vibrated faster and their loins pounded against each other like jack hammers.

"Faster, babe, faster," she whispered sexily into his ears.

He thrust himself deeper and deeper within her. Sitting almost completely upright, she thrashed on top of him.

"Oh, yes, babe, make me come with you," she moaned.

Lost in the deep, eternal true love they felt for each other, they soared together as one. She had her orgasm at the same time he exploded inside her -- one of the rare times they allowed themselves to experience their ecstasy together.

Sated and content, they lied quietly in bed, cuddling and kissing, for a few moments. Then they got up, showered together, dressed and packed their personal items back into their back packs.

While she loaded the bags in the car, he checked out of the motel. He got into the car, but she had already taken the driver's seat.

He looked at her concerned. "Are you sure you don't want me to drive?"

She smiled softly, appreciating his concern. Her hand lightly caressed his left thigh. "I can drive," she assured him.

They had breakfast at Burger Barn and then they stopped for gas before getting back on the highway. The traffic at 8 a.m. was much lighter than yesterday.

He looked over at her and she beamed brightly at him. His fingers brushed the plain white envelope setting beside the parking brake. "What's this?"

"My letter to my father," she said. "I thought you might want to add to it."

He nodded, "Can I read it?"

"Sure," she said.

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He slumped back into his seat shocked. Over the past 4 1/2 years they'd been dating, she rarely let him read her writing. It seemed like many artists, musicians, actors and writers suffered for a regular lack of self-confidence. But her self-esteem and self-confidence were incredibly low for reasons he didn't completely understand.

He was an actor -- and she was a journalist/writer -- they understood that constant rejection was part of the business. And yet, he was absolutely prohibited from seeing her work. He usually didn't see her work until it was published in the paper or elsewhere. Thankfully she was devoted about keeping her clippings. She saved her poetry and fiction too although she kept that well hidden, especially from him.

She often teased him about frequently being engrossed in her clipbook. He believed in her talent more than she did, but she teased him about being biased because he loved her.

He shook himself out his reverie. She concentrated her attention on the road ahead of them and he focused his attention on the letter in his hands.

The honesty and depth of emotions were poignant -- and they touched his heart. The memories of her father she recorded with a mixture of teasing and love.

He chuckled softly. She briefly glanced at him. "What?"

"Nothing," he said simply.

She rolled her eyes in mild annoyance. She probably thought he had been laughing because he'd found misspellings and grammar mistakes in her letter. She was such a perfectionist -- it was true what they said: writers were their own worst critics, he smiled mischievously.

She ignored him; once again he engrossed himself in her letter. When he finished, he glanced up at the patches of snow blanketing the ground.

"Is that what I think it is?" He said surprised.

"Yeah," she said with a wry lilt crossed her lips. "You might want to get on your coat."

He twisted his body as he drug his coat out of his suitcase in the back seat. He pulled it on. "Pull over. I want to get a picture of this."

She shook her head in amusement. She had never seen anyone get so excited over snow. She pulled off the highway -- they needed to stop for gas.

Thinking ahead, she'd already gotten her coat out of her suitcase; she bundled up before climbing out of the car.

He joined her outside. "Where are we?"

"Minnesota," she said, shivering in the bitter cold wind while she pumped gas.

Like a detective he inspected the snow, snapping photos. She laughed. She squatted down and formed a ball of snow in her gloved-hands. Then she playfully threw it at him, scoring a direct hit.

Looking over his shoulder at her, he wryly raised an eyebrow. He stooped down scooping up a handful of snow from a snow bank. She teasingly warned him, "Don't you dare, Malan Hamel."

He grinned broadly, advancing toward her. She ran away from him; he was close on her heels. Her laughter trickled through the air; it warmed his soul. He grabbed her from behind, and she wriggled in his arms. He unceremoniously dumped snow down the collar of her coat and she yelped.

The gas station cashier, who was smoking outdoors, shook his head at them. To himself, he muttered, "Damn foolish kids."

They laughed. Malan turned to the cashier, handing him his camera. "Would you take our picture?"

"Sure," the cashier said, putting out his cigarette and throwing it on the ground. He examined the camera. "Never seen a camera like this before, how do you work it?"

"Just hit the button on the top right," Malan explained.

She frowned at him, "You know I hate to have my picture taken."

He didn't like it either. "Please, Lathal."

"OK," she sighed.

The cashier looked annoyed. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," she said as they quickly posed.

The cashier took their picture and then handed the camera back to Malan.

"Thanks," he said.

"You're welcome. Have a safe trip," the cashier said before returning to the store.

They returned to the highway. They hit Minneapolis/St. Paul during lunch hour traffic, but they had no problems getting on I-94. As they crossed over the Mississippi River, he pointed at the sign, exclaiming, "Welcome to Wisconsin."

She felt a sense of relief that they'd made to Wisconsin without any problems. And in such good time too.

They arrived in Eau Claire, Wis., around 1:30 p.m. Since she wasn't exactly sure how to get to her parent's house, they stopped at the Trixie's Eats for lunch. After their meal, she called her mom from the pay phone.

"Hello?" Her mother said cautiously.

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

"Lathal," her mom said surprised at how close her daughter sounded. "Where are you?"

"Malan and I are at the Trixie's Eats by the Frugal's in Eau Claire," she said. "I need directions to your house."

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"Don't go anywhere," her mom instructed her. "Yolanda and Bianca will come to meet you. They'll show you the way to the house."

"OK. We'll see you soon," she hung up.

She returned to the table where he was drinking hot chocolate. He looked at her expectantly. "Well?"

"My sisters are on their way," she said sitting down in the swiveling plastic chair.

They waited about 15 minutes or so. Yolanda, with her fiery red hair, and Bianca, who looked like a replica of their mother's sister, Sylvia, breezed into the restaurant. Spotting their sister and her fiance sitting in the corner booth, they joined them.

"Well, well, look who the cat drug in," Bianca joked, flipping Malan and her eldest sister teasing winks.

A wry smile crossed her lips. She shot her fiance a teasing glare, "I think Bianca should be studying to become a comedian, not a nurse."

Bianca laughed appreciatively while Yolanda gave Malan then her sister affectionate hugs. "Welcome to Wisconsin. We're glad to you made it here safe and sound."

"Without getting too frozen," Bianca teasingly threw in.

They laughed. Then they rose, following the sisters from the restaurant.

"So Yolanda, how's school going?" He said.

Yolanda paused by their mother's Ford van. "We can talk about that at the house."

"Yeah, where it's warmer," Bianca added.

"We'll be right behind you," she told them, adding teasingly. "Just don't go so fast that we can't keep up."

"Let's plow," Bianca shouted boisterously.

As she followed her sisters in the van, he felt awkward and a little out of place. Lathal, her sisters, mother and relatives all together -- it was almost like a family reunion, and he felt like an outsider looking in because he wasn't part of the family -- yet. For him, it was the beginning of the end.

 

Serial 5

It took them about 20 minutes to reach her mom's houseon the outskirts of Eau Claire. Her parents were living temporarily there until the home they were having built in Chippewa Falls was finished.

Yolanda pulled the van into the garage alongside their father's economy car. Bianca ran toward her sister's car. She rolled down her window. "Park in the garage. It's heated. That way your car engine won't freeze," Bianca dashed into the house.

She obeyed her sister's instructions. Yolanda closed the garage door. They grabbed their suitcases and they followed Yolanda into the house.

Casseroles, breads, baskets of fruit, pies and cakes littered the dining room table. Boots and jackets were neatly hung from the wooden coat rack near the laundry room by the the garage door. They hung up their coats beside her sisters'.

Andria Harvey emerged from the kitchen. She looked tired. She smiled wearily, hugging her daughter and her daughter's fiance. "Lathal. Malan. Welcome home -- sorry that you had to come under such unfortunate circumstances like this."

"You two made good time," Ginger said.

She turned toward Ginger. Cradling her daughter, Raeya, in her arms, her sister stood beside her husband Ponzone Corrales. "When did you get here?"

"Yolanda and Bianca picked us up at the Minneapolis/St. Paul airport yesterday afternoon," Ginger said, looking past her sister to her sister's prospective husband. "Malan, how are you doing?"

"I'm fine," he said quietly.

Suddenly 1-month-old Raeya started squirming in annoyance, whimpering fussily. "Sound like you need a change and a nap," Ginger said to her daughter, and then to her family. "Excuse me."

"Sure," Yolanda said in understanding as her sister and her husband left the room.

Andria Harvey gestured toward the table laden with food, "Do you and Malan want something to eat?"

"We already ate at Trixie's Eats so maybe later," she said.

Her mother nodded, "You two probably want to unpack and settle in a little bit and then you can help me with the collages we're putting together for your father's wake tomorrow."

"I," she glanced at her prospective husband, "We wrote a letter for dad. We'll put it in the coffin at the wake."

Her mother nodded and led her daughter down the hallway to her room. Bianca and Yolanda led Malan to the basement. It was cluttered with boxes, a treadmill, quilt racks, tools, assorted pieces of furniture and antiques.

"Watch your step," Yolanda told him as he weaved his way through the mess to the downstairs bedroom.

He set his suitcase on the bed. He carefully pulled out his gray suit and hung it in the closet.

"Malan," Bianca said quietly.

"Hmm?" He said, his gaze drifted to the corner of the room, where his fiancee's sisters still stood.