Charon's Crossing

He cast a quick glance up the steps. He could hear the shower running. Quickly, he ripped open the envelope, unfolded the note inside, and read it.

It began with today's date and was from Kathryn's mother. She had had a call from Amos Carter and another from Jason.

"Both of them are worried, and now so am I," the note said.

She was in Miami and would be flying into Hawkins Bay late tonight by charter. Kathryn was to meet her at the airfield promptly at ten.

Matthew read the note again. Above, on the second floor, the sound of the shower stopped.

"Forgive me, Kathryn," he whispered. He crumpled the note and the envelope in his fist, went quickly out to the terrace, tossed both onto the fire and watched them burn.

* * *

"Ah," Kathryn sighed, stretching luxuriously, "that was wonderful."

Matthew smiled. He reached across the table, took her hand and kissed the fingertips. She looked especially lovely to him tonight, in a pale blue halter dress and with her hair tumbling over her shoulders.

"It was nothing, madam," he said. "A candlelit table on the terrace, a bouquet of roses..

."

"Pink roses. My very favorite kind."

Matthew grinned. "Excellent news, since those are the only ones that grow at Charon's Crossing."

"The wine was lovely, too."

"A vintage bottle, unearthed from the wine cellar to accompany a pair of steaks grilled to absolute perfection. ''Twas nothing but a modest repast."

Kathryn smiled. "You were teasing me the other day, when you said you didn't know how to cook."

"Every man knows how to char a side of beef."

"Starting with the first caveman. What is it with guys and open fires?"

"Something deep and primitive, perhaps." Matthew's eyes glittered. "Akin to what seems to be our native dexterity with television remotes."

Kathryn laughed. He was right. For a man who'd never seen a television set until a few days ago, Matthew had shown a remarkable and, she suspected, completely male affinity for channel surfing.

"I can't deny that you took to the tube like a veteran."

"Well, the TV is a remarkable invention. But I think, in the final analysis, I prefer the radio."

"Really? Why?"

Matthew smiled and got to his feet. "Stay right where you are and I'll show you." Moments later, soft, romantic music drifted out into the flower-scented night. When he came back to the table, he held out his hand. "Because of that. The music." His smile was bittersweet. "It takes me back to a time when both I, and Charon's Crossing, were real."

"Don't say that! You're as real to me as anyone could ever be."

"Close your eyes," he whispered, slipping his arm around her waist, "and picture this place with candles blazing in every room."

Kathryn laid her head on his shoulder.

"It must have been beautiful."

"Oh, aye, it was. The lights, the music, the food and drink..."

She smiled. "Impressive, hmm?"