Charon's Crossing

The morning sunlight was caught in her hair, surrounding her beautiful face with a soft, golden glow. She was smiling, though it was a worried smile, and her eyes, those deep blue pools, were filled with concern as they focused on his.

"Kathryn," he said. "Kathryn, sweetheart..."

He tried to tell himself it was she who moved first, that he would have done what he'd intended otherwise, but in his heart he knew that they moved as one so that suddenly he was in his arms. He kissed her and tasted tears on her lips, either his or hers, and what was the difference?

He would take what a malevolent, laughing Fate had sent him and cherish it, one day, one night, at a time.

He rocked her gently in his arms, his lips against her hair, his hand stroking the length of her back.

"I know what you're thinking," she whispered.

His arms tightened around her. "Do you?"

"You're thinking that there's no future in this for us."

Matthew sighed and did what he could to lighten the moment.

"Women have grown too clever by far," he said.

She made a sound that was half sob and half laugh.

"Women have always been clever. Men just never noticed."

"You're right." He smiled. "Things have not changed that much, then?"

"No."

"Good." He gave her a quick kiss. "In that case, I expect you to march back into that kitchen and make me a huge breakfast."

She laughed and swiped her hands over her wet eyes. She had asked him to tell her what had put that stricken expression on his face and he hadn't, but she knew. She knew.

Now, he was deliberately trying to lighten the moment. He was right to do it. There were only so many days and nights left. Why waste them in tears? Not that she was ready to admit defeat. There had to be a way for them to be together. They had bridged their two worlds now, hadn't they? There had to be an answer.

"Well? Do I get a meal, or do I just keep listening to my stomach telling me it's empty?"

"Tell your stomach help is on the way," Kathryn said briskly. "I'll do the bacon and eggs, you do the toast."

"Do the toast?"

"Yes."

Matthew's expression suggested she had just asked him to fly to the moon.

"You want me to make toast?"

"Right. I want you to take the bread and butter from the fridge, pop the bread into the toaster, push down that lever right there... see? It's not very complicated."

"Well, I'm sure it isn't. But I don't cook."

Kathryn smiled sweetly. "You do, if you want to eat."

She was arranging strips of bacon in a pan, humming softly to herself and paying him no attention. With a shrug, he took the bread and butter from the contraption she called a refrigerator, then gave the metal box that toasted the bread the benefit of his full attention.

It worked with amazing speed and so did he, consuming one slice for every two he toasted and buttered. By the time he had six slices piled on a plate, Kathryn was cracking eggs into a bowl.

"How do you like your eggs?"

"Whatever way you make them is fine, just as long as the bacon's crisp."