A Path of Roses And Thorns

A fanfic by Brother Grimace

(Author’s Note: This fic was written as part of a challenge from the PPMB - that I write a fic in which Daria's Aunt Amy gets happily married, and that Daria is asked to be her maid of honor. Taking liberties with the AU of another writer (as I've done before), this fic takes place during the course of Daria's sophomore year at Raft (a la the 'Falling Into College' series). As requested (in a manner of speaking), this four-part fanfic miniseries takes place after the events of ‘Silver Lining’. For purposes of continuity, the school year at Tennyson begins about one week earlier than at Raft, during mid-August.

Blame the bug guy – it was his challenge on PPMB!)

Saturday, September 8, 2001 – about 11:45 a.m.

With all of the effort and chaos over the past year that bringing Amy Barksdale to the wedding chapel had entailed, one thought kept circling through Paula Trainor’s mind: Anyone who keeps this wedding from happening will simply have to die.

“Stop thinking like that, Colonel Trainor. You’re scaring the civilians.”

“The Posse Comitatus Act does not have a provision for weddings, smarty. They screw this up and I’ll turn them into vapor.”

Amy Barksdale shook her head, and smiled. "Okay - what's the deal with the camera crew again?"

"They're filming all aspects of the wedding, dummy - your wedding, remember? Follow along; your boy-toy's folks are connected and loaded, your people are connected - did you really think that no one would bring a camera along?"

"You are enjoying this a little too much, Zoomie Smurf. You know that, don't you?"

"In all fairness to the greatness that is me, I did find you a husband. You made it a difficult process, castrating the braver souls with that acid glare of yours and scaring away the rest on personality alone… You in a bridal gown was something I was resigned to seeing only on Halloween."

Amy looked up from the vanity table, and Quinn Morgendorffer slapped her hand as she reached up to bush an errant strand of hair from her eyes. "No, Aunt Amy - we do that," she said, motioning Tiffany Blum-Deckler forward with a styling comb. "While she's working with your hair, we might as well do a touch-up of your lip gloss and the eye shadow - just a TOUCH, Stacy! GOD, do you WANT her to look like one of the raccoons from 'Doctor Dolittle on her WEDDING DAY? How would YOU like it if someone did your makeup like you're going to star in an 'abused woman' movie on Lifetime?"

"Paula…"

At the sound of Amy's voice, the tall, beautiful African-American woman nibbling at a thin chocolate slice turned to face the four former members of the Lawndale High School Fashion Club. "Ladies - what did I say before about 'professional demeanor'?

The four younger women quickly - and quietly - made a few final brush-strokes to Amy's appearance, and beat a hasty retreat as Paula Trainor rose from her chair, soothing out her Air Force dress uniform as she picked up a small box and walked over to Amy. "Time to do the 'maid of honor' stuff…"

"Did you get someone to watch the car and the luggage?"

"Seven of my fourth-years - I'd hate for anyone to get close," Paula smiled. "As I was saying, here's the 'something old… blah, blah, blah…' part. First, for something old. Your mother came through for you. She really did."

Paula opened the box, and Amy's eyes widened in surprised disbelief. "She asked me to give this to you; somehow, she thought that there might be some sort of unnatural emotional outburst if she gave you these in person."

"The pearls," Amy said, her voice suddenly choked with emotion. "I thought she'd give them to Daria, now that she's actually got someone worthwhile - and when her problems started, I thought that she'd have to sell them…" She ran her fingers over the long, thin, perfect strand of pearls. "These are - they've been in the Barksdale family for seven generations - eight, if you count my nieces… They get passed down on the day of someone's wedding - Helen and Rita both knew they weren't going to get them, and the way Quinn and Erin carry themselves…"

"Unless you want those unholy priestesses of Revlon back in here to fix your makeup - thus delaying your receipt of your shiny new ball and chain by a good twenty minutes or so - I'd advise you not to cry," Paula said, unable to keep the mirth from her voice. "Twenty or some years from now, when your kid is in her gown, about to jump the broom, I'll just have to tell her how Mom - despite her years of being stoic as a redwood facing a wildfire - cried tears of emotion before she got married."

"Are you trying to be bitchy on my wedding day, Paula?"

"Not a bit, Amy, " Paula said, fastening the strand of pearls around her friend's neck. "Just making sure that you go in with eyes wide open and your brain still running. It’s your day, friend of mine - it's all about your being happy. Just don't lose who you are when you attach the 'Mrs.' to the front of your name." She stood up, and looked at the reflection of her best friend in the mirror. "That… is perfect. I'd say you have the 'something old' part covered. Now, for the rest…"

Amy watched as Paula went back and picked up the small box. "For the 'something new,' well… This is from all of us in the coven. Everyone chipped in."

"You're worse than me, Paula. You know they hate it when they - oh, my…"

Her eyes fell upon the handkerchief, brilliantly golden in the midday sunlight that poured through a window into the room. "It's made of Muga silk," Paula told her, taking the large silken cloth and placing it in Amy's hands. "Angela came up with the idea, Sammi did the legwork to have it made, and Sharon picked it up last month, when her detail went over to India on Lady Sommerville-Howes' trip. Very nice."

"It's beautiful…"

"For 'something borrowed', well… your niece has a very twisted sense of humor."

Amy let a big smile cross her face as she saw Paula hold up her niece Daria's old, round glasses. "Perfect," she said, taking her own glasses off and placing Daria's on. "It's almost scary how alike the two of us are, sometimes…"

"At least you can see - that's what's important. Now, for something blue…" Paula hesitated for a moment, then pulled something from her pocket and pressed it into her friend's hand. "Do not lose that."

A moment of silence reigned as Amy opened her hand to see a small silver ring set with a large sapphire, glittering… "Paula…"

"Hey, don't you start," Paula told her. "It's either this or the ribbon from my DSM - and that's only mostly blue."

"Excuse me, like, Miss Colonel Military Lady, or whatever…"

Amy sighed, and Paula let a long breath out. "Oh, I'd love to PT her until her thighs drain buttermilk," she said, turning to face Sandi Griffin, who had pushed her head through the door. "Yes?"

"They said that they're about to get started, so they, like, need you to stand out there next to the priest."

"I'm on my way, Miss Griffin."

Paula moved towards the door, Sandi giving her a wide berth, when a sudden, insistent beeping came from inside her uniform. “Damn…”

"I thought that you weren't going to have that today."

"I left my standard one at home," Paula said, her voice becoming hollow as she looked at the number: 202-456-1414. “This is the emergency beeper… hell.” She turned to Sandi. “Go out there, find her niece Daria, and ask her to come in here. Do it now.”

“You’re skipping out on my wedding-?”

“Probably,” Paula replied, her own stomach falling as she saw the look on her best friend’s face, and she held up her pager. “That’s the number for the White House switchboard. I have to use a phone… where’s my cell…”

As Paula found her cell phone and began to talk, the door to the waiting room opened and Daria entered, followed by every single Barksdale woman on the premises. “Amy, if you’re thinking for a moment that you’re backing out of this wedding, after everything that everyone’s done, and all of the preparations, the people coming in from all over –“

“Helen, you’re probably hoping that she is getting cold feet, so you can hold it over her head that you’re the only one that’s had anything even remotely close to a normal wedding,” Rita Barksdale snorted, making Helen Morgendorffer turn a bright red color. “Scared that Amy’s not only going to get a stable man, but a rich one, too? Not much to turn your nose up at now, right?”

“Don’t you DARE act like I’m ashamed of my Jake!” Helen almost screeched, stepping forward, and Quinn stepped between them. “Quinn-“

“Mom, you’re supposed to take it easy, remember?”

“Quinn, you need to remember that you’re still a child, and –“

“Don’t you talk to my baby like that – I don’t care if you are her grandmother!” Helen hissed, and Daria Morgendorffer rolled her eyes at the overly dramatic manner in which Tess Barksdale grasped at her chest. “You-

“You all need to lower your voices – and then, all of you except for Daria need to leave,” a calm, yet deadly voice from off to the side spoke, breaking through the rising familial tension. “Amy’s getting married and no, she doesn’t have cold feet-“

“I’m surprised that you want to be here anyway – I thought you’d be the last one to get involved with weddings, especially my sister's-“

“Perhaps you’d like to explain to the person on the other end of this line why I’m talking to you instead of him,” Paula said, locking her eyes with Helen. “Nice guy – comes from Texas and has two girls like you do, works in a round room, has the job that you always dream about… Please leave. Now.”

The room emptied in a blink, and Daria stood in a wide space as Paula turned back to her phone. “I have to learn how to do that with annoying people,” she said, noticing the glasses Amy wore and smiling. “Love your choice of eyewear.”

“I’m glad you thought of it,” Amy told her. “Nice trick she does to empty a room, isn’t it?”

“From what I’ve heard, Daria, you’ve got similar skills already,” Paula said, following her gaze and smirking… a smirk that disappeared as she remembered the phone in her hand. “Daria, I need to ask a big favor of you – with your permission, of course, Amy.”

Amy nodded. “Daria – I have to leave. I need you to stand in for me as maid of honor for your Aunt Amy – can you do that for me?”

Daria looked from Paula to Amy and back again. “Okay,” she said simply. “What do I have to do?”

“That’s a good question. Mainly, you just have to make sure that she actually gets up to the altar once she goes out that door,” Paula said, almost laughing as memories flooded back through her. “It shouldn’t be that hard – after all, I’ve already done all of the hard work in getting her here…”

*****

One year earlier…

*****

The Executive Dining Area in the Tennyson University Student Center was an impressive eatery in its own right, and a dining experience fashionable enough to not only draw notables from the Washington, D.C. area on a regular basis, but also gain a high ranking in the Zagat Survey.

So damned fancy that it's actually priced out of the budgets of most of the students…thank God dining privileges come with tenure, Paula thought, nibbling at her Cobb salad as she studied the handsome gentleman seated at an angle from her. Eating here otherwise would be out of the question, I’m not a big fan of the ROTC mess, and I hate having to go out for lunch every day… besides, being here today has a special purpose – if this idiot doesn’t screw it up.

“How long have you been working on Senator Johnassen’s staff?”

“Just over six years. I came aboard to help with his last re-election campaign – his chief of staff left to have her twins – and he kept me on as his press secretary.” Jerome Dots took a sip of coffee, and continued on. “You wouldn’t think that a good ol’ boy like him would have the PR nightmares that he does, but then again, who can really control their kids like they’d want to?”

“As far as I’m concerned, the best thing about children is that they go home with their parents at the end of the day.”

“Now, how’s that attitude going to land a husband for a pretty lady like you?”

“If I wanted a husband, I’d have had one by now,” Paula bluntly informed the dark-haired man, making his eyes widen as he unknowingly drew back a bit. “And why haven’t you gotten back on the horse yourself?”

“Which one? Oh… when I find the right one, I’ll know. Until then, I’ll just sample at the local fauna.” Jerome cast an appreciative glance at the long, shapely legs of the woman before him, and showed no sign of shame as he looked back up to see her large, chocolate eyes studying him carefully. “Sorry. Force of habit…”

“Well… at least it means you’re not gay, and I know the divorce didn’t turn you into walking wreckage… do you want to tell me ahead of time if you’ve got any fatal flaws…?”

“Yes. I’m letting you set me up on a date instead of going all out after you. A lieutenant colonel… do you like shorter guys…?”

“What did I say a few moments ago-?”

Paula glanced past Jerome as Amy walked into the Executive Dining Area, and a smile brushed across her face as she saw the look directed at her before Amy continued on her way. “Would you excuse me for a second?”

As Paula rose from her chair, smoothing out her Air Force uniform, she heard a distinct, recognizable snort of disdain from the next table. “What is it this time, Cheryl?”

She looked down to see Professor Cheryl Newlin, barely-restrained dislike in her tone. “What’s bothering you today?”

“Oh, nothing – it’s just so sad to see you looking for a man for the dainty princess over there,” Cheryl said lightly, swirling angel hair pasta around her fork. ”It’s so sad to see a woman like that – so intelligent, so worldly, and so very, very alone…” She took a taste of the pasta, and brushed her butter-blonde hair back as she turned her Midwestern-perfect face to look up at Paula. “ But then again, I’m sure that she has her tenure to keep her warm.”

“You’re a stain, Cheryl.”

She started away, but stopped as Cheryl continued on. “I hear my Nikki’s done well in your Basic Military History course.”

“She didn’t have a choice.” An image of a young woman flashed through Paula’s head; she was tall, youthful and slender, with Cheryl’s hair, eyes - and attitude – and Paula suddenly had a bad aftertaste in her mouth. “You won’t be able to get her through those courses, and neither will your brother, the gentleman from Arizona. Why the hell is she in ROTC, anyway? I'd think a Senator would want to keep his niece out of uniform!”

“For the life of me, I don’t know,” Cheryl replied breezily. “I mean, when she first mentioned it, I pointed you out and said, ‘My God, Nicole, look at her! Do you want to be like that? Anyway, the 'faculty and families' luncheon’s next week; you might want to herd the Princess Amy off somewhere, so she won’t feel left out again-“

Cheryl suddenly found herself almost nose-to-nose with Paula, and tried to shrink back from eyes that were now twin dark suns. “I can deal with your cracks about me. Continually trying to hurt my friend is why you’re on my list. Disrespect the uniform again, and I will punish you.”

Paula drew herself to her full height, and surveyed the now-quiet dining area… and the people who were trying not to look anywhere in Paula’s direction. “Learn… to behave yourself, Professor Newlin.”

Leaving a visibly shaken Cheryl in her wake, Paula continued across the room.

Standing in line, Amy selected a small dish of strawberry Jell-O, and her small, delicate hand had almost closed on the edge of a salad bowl when she felt a very familiar gaze on her back. “If you’ve got that guy over there for me, I swear I’ll find a way to pay you back.”

“Look. Just talk to him.”

Amy didn’t even bother to look up. “Well, we’ve given up all of our subtle ways for Lent, haven’t we? By the way, what’s with the public thrashing of the Cheryl?”

“Sometimes, the housebreaking doesn’t take, and you have to put them back on the paper. As for Jerome – that’s the boy’s name, by the way – well, Barksdale, we’re way past the point where subtle hints and accidental meetings will do any good,” Paula said, managing to keep a sense of levity in her tone as she towered above her petite colleague. “You need to act as if you have a social life, because people keep bugging me about ‘why doesn’t your hot little friend with the glasses go out with anyone?’ or ‘Why doesn’t she just break the honor code and bed one of the students?’ People will understand…”

Amy stopped and looked at Paula, who shrugged. “Yes, the general consensus is that you’re a beautiful woman. Beats me – I’ve seen you scare away starving dogs…”

“I was covered in mud and twigs, and I had one of those hand-sized air-horns, Paula-“

“Yes, but you rose up on the balls of your feet and screeched, too. The air-horn only made them run faster. Are you going to eat that pork roast? About time you put a little more meat on those bones – a man wants a little something to hold onto!”

A grimace on her face as her hand pulled away from the plate, Amy selected a chef’s salad. ‘What would you know about that?”

Paula smiled, and Amy suppressed an urge to throw the piece of pork roast right at it. “Well, Amy - that’s what I've heard!”

“Should you even be saying things like this, especially since you’re wearing that uniform?”

“As long as I keep my private life just that, don’t act like a fool in public and don’t disrespect the uniform, nobody gets to say anything,” Paula told her. ‘Don’t ask, don’t tell’ is probably the only thing the Boss had done publicly that’s worth anything. It’s not perfect, but I’m not a crusader, I’m a soldier.”

“You’re Air Force.”

“Yes, but since I don’t fly planes, I had to learn how to shoot things in order to get respect.”

“Shoot things?’ Paula, you used to command a silo full of nuclear missiles.” Amy placed a small bag of carrot sticks on her tray, then turned slightly and headed towards the cashier. ‘You know the irony factor behind that all but breaks the scale.”

“Yeah, yeah. Pay for your rabbit munchables, already.”

“You know, my niece has a friend like you…”

“Incredibly beautiful, unspeakably intelligent, and can still fit into the clothes she wore when she was nineteen?”

“Well, as much as I’d like to say ‘No, she’s just a bitch’, she’s a supreme yenta. Well, was – Daria found a very nice boy all on her own.”

“All that tells me is that your niece’s friend has few skills and no resolve. ‘Can’t be done’? A phrase not listed in the military lexicon.”

Amy started away when Paula cleared her throat. “What is it now…?”

“Oh, Amy…? You forgot your daily serving of the Elixir of Life, my tiny comrade-in-arms…”

“Not going to work today, Trainor…”

Paula went over to her friend, put her hands on Amy’s shoulders, and guided her back to the soda dispenser. “Just go ahead and get it, and then we’ll go sit, have lunch, and you can alienate yet another potential suitor!”

Amy stared daggers as Paula reached past her to get a large Styrofoam cup, filled it half-full with shaved ice and filled it to the brim with Barq’s root beer. “There. Your filthy brew is bubbling and ready. Let us proceed!”

Amy sighed. “Okay. I’ll eat with him.”

*****

A half-hour later, Amy adjusted the shoulder strap of her handbag, then continued along the walkway past the large, open area in front of the Bealer Auditorium, tuning out the sounds of students engaged in various activities under the unseasonably pleasant afternoon sky.

A trio of co-eds swooshed past on roller blades, followed by a boy on his trail bike, and Amy had to move quickly to avoid him. “Sorry!” the boy called out, looking back – and immediately flipped over a depression in the ground.

“Kids.”

It never occurred to Amy that she was drawing many interested stares, or that the way her skirt moved around her legs was the cause of a multi-student pileup in the ongoing game of Frisbee that she’d just passed.

Finding a spot at a picnic table shaded by a small grove of trees, Amy pulled the bag of carrot sticks from her handbag. I should have at least eaten while I was ignoring that Dots guy… this isn’t going to cut it…

A giggle caught her attention, and Amy saw a couple sitting down beside a tree on the other side of the grove. The young man kept putting his hand down, against the girls’ slightly extended abdomen, and Amy realized that he was-

“Hey! I felt her kick!”

Amy tried to turn her attention away from the young couple, but every time the girl giggled, or one of them laughed, she glanced over at them, and felt a cold throbbing in her chest each time she looked at the soft, rounded swelling beneath the sweater the girl wore…

I’ll never know what that feels like. People can describe it, and tell you the most minute details, but I’ll never know what it’s like to be pregnant. I’ll never know what it’s like to have some little person look up at me from their crib, wrap their tiny fingers around one of mine and smile their tiny little baby smile up at me, and know that that’s a part of me…I’ll never know what it’s like for someone to call me ‘Mommy’.

I went further than my sisters could ever have dreamed – and they’re going to have more than I could ever imagine. Through Erin, Quinn and Daria, they’re going to live forever.

When I’m gone – that’s it. No more Amy Barksdale. My ideas might live on, my words, my views, my vision… but I’ll be just as dead to the world as this table.

Where did my life go…?

The sound of chittering near the table made Amy look around, and she looked down to see a plump gray squirrel besides the tree, standing on its hindquarters as it held its paws out for a treat. “Okay, you talked me into it,” she sighed, tossing the squirrel a carrot stick and watching as he began to nibble with gusto. “The irony here is that you’re a better lunch date than that guy…”

The squirrel just looked her as he kept nibbling.

“Yup…same conversational skills, too.”

Several persons in the area jumped as the theme to Red Dwarf blared from Amy’s general direction, and she shrugged at their disapproving glares as she flipped her cell phone open. “Dr. Barksdale…Oh, yes, Cassie. I’d just stopped for lunch and a walk… What do you mean, ‘It didn’t come in today?’ Cassie, did you call the FedEx people and ask them…they said what? It was what? SOMEONE MISPLACED IT? You mean someone STOLE MY-“

Amy looked around; even the squirrels were staring at her. “What?”

The world returned to its business as Amy focused back on her phone. “Cassie, you put any appointments I’ve got this afternoon off until tomorrow – I’m heading out to National Airport, and if somebody at that desk doesn’t come across with… oh. A new one? Dan got a new car in today… yeah. I’ll go and check that out first…

Rising from the table, Amy set out a pair of carrot sticks for the squirrel. “At least you’ll have a good lunch,” she said, laying out more from her bag as she saw a second squirrel peering around the tree at the first squirrel’s bounty. “And a date, too. Don’t go chasing her tail afterwards, either. Not until the fourth date. Those are the rules.”

*****

“So, got rid of the ‘General Lee’ and traded up, I see.”

“Hey, hey, Doc Amy! Come to check up on our latest bad boy?”

Daniel St. John pulled himself out from underneath the car he was working on, a big smile covering his face as he recognized the shoes. “What do you think? Latest class project and charity fundraiser – a 1980 Trans-Am, one of the actual cars used by Burt Reynolds in the classic ‘good-ol’ boys’ flick ‘Smokey And The Bandit!”

The auburn-haired woman raised an eyebrow as Daniel stood up and brushed himself off, standing a good head taller than Amy. “So, what’s the word?” he asked, his words holding a slight Southern accent. “I’m surprised we got something like her this year – remember fall semester, two years back – who the hell wants a ‘Brady Bunch’ station wagon? Still can’t believe we sold her for that much…”

“Tell me about it,” Amy replied, reaching up and pulling pieces of hay out of Daniel’s dirty-blond hair, kept cut slightly longer than average. “Geez, Dan, hay? Where did this thing come from?”

“Some fool down in southern Georgia with too much money and not enough sense kept buying all sorts of movie cars, but didn’t take care of ‘em – just stuck ‘em in his barns on his land down there. Died this summer, the family had to sell off a lot of stuff to keep afloat, and some folks I know down thataways let me know about the tax auction. Got her for next to nothing. She’s a keeper, you think?”

Amy walked slowly around the more-than-slightly battered vehicle. “It’s seen better days, Dan.”

“Well, haven’t we all, darlin’,” Daniel laughed, clicking his tongue as he wiped a thick patch of spider webs away from the front grille. “I’ve got some real good kids in this year – brains in each one of ‘em, but they’ve all got that feel for cars. Even the real smart ones spent a lot of time under a hood out under a tree or in a junkyard somewhere – got this six-foot-plus girl-puppy with blonde hair in this semester, freshman, looks like she should be on the hood of the car once we fix it up? Be damned if she can’t take a carburetor apart and rebuild the damned thing blindfolded!”

A small, slightly exasperated sigh filled the garage area of the Auto Technologies Annex. “Is this the reason why you called me over, Dan?”

“Well, no. I wanted to make sure that you bring that tiny little red thing in so I can give it a once-over…” Amy glared at him; nobody got to make fun of her pride and joy, a sporty little red Triumph Spitfire.

“I also have this collection of some Kleenex-thin NASCAR t-shirts I picked up just for you – figured that when me and my puppies get her up, running, all pristine and proud, you’d like to come out and do the first test drive. Of course, you’d need something appropriate to wear…” A huge, charming smile reappeared across his grime-streaked, handsome face, making him appear years younger than his true age – which, Amy remembered with a touch of chagrin, was six years younger than her own. “If you want, I can get you a hat just like the one Burt wore, and some heels …if you’re a good girl, I’ll let you ride shotgun when I really put the hammer down.”

“I should never have told you I watched that movie!”

“Oh, that’s not the thing, Doc Amy – probably shouldn’t have told me you know the movie by heart.”

“Not by heart…well, I watched it a few times…”

“When it came out, me and my friends cut classes every day for a week and snuck into the show to see it over and over…” Daniel was lost in thought for a moment. “Missed my final in freshman math… my folks thought they’d throw me out of high school when the truant officer hauled us in…”

“Hillbilly.”

“Ma’am, I am not a ‘hillbilly’. I am a son of the South, and I am proud to be so.”

“Don’t remind me.”

As Amy continued to orbit the car, Daniel brushed himself off a bit and fell in step with her. “Uh, Amy…”

She immediately noticed how the ‘doc’ dropped out of his vocabulary, and the pleasant twang faded slightly beneath a more direct tone. “I hear a catastrophe coming on…”

“You know I think the world of you – even though you’re Yankee royalty-“

“My family is from Virginia-“

“WEST Virginia.”

“No, we’re not!”

“All I know is that I’ve never seen old photos or read up on any Barksdales wearing the Gray and taking orders from Jeff Davis,” he said, clearing enjoying the banter. “My family’s been in South Carolina since the 1700’s, and we believe in keeping track of our history. That’s something for another time, however.”

“I’ll have to tell Sherman that we won’t be using the ‘Wayback Machine’ today. He’ll be crushed.”

Daniel gave Amy a look that made her suddenly feel like she was thirteen, and rediscovering boys all over again. “You’ve always been a good person -”

“Well, no one ever said that you weren’t highly observant.”

“God, you’re smarter than any five members of my family put together-“

“If you did that in real life, that’d be a movie I’d watch.”

“-And you’re probably the most wonderful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, and I’ve laid eyes on quite a few, counting my time traveling in the service-“

“Bet that’s not the only thing you’ve laid on them.”

“Will you stop that?” Daniel snapped, bringing Amy to a full stop. “You always do that – people give you compliments, but if they’re about you as a person, you brush them off or say something to queer the moment. You don’t need to do that; it’s something a teen- it’s not something a woman like you needs to do.”

Amy turned slowly to face him. “Daniel-“

“Oh, getting formal – even though we’ve known one another for almost eight years. Yeah, and that’s a good sign of things to come…”

“I don’t want to hurt you-“

“Why is it that every time a woman starts off with those words, the day ends with folks needing to get a truckload of sawdust, with shovels, rakes and some squeegees to clean up the mess? Damn, woman, I just want to go out with you – and not just to the track to air out the latest burner my kids here fixed up.”

“No – you want more. If it was just about sex, it wouldn’t be so bad, but you want more from me.”

“Well, what the hell’s wrong with that? What’s wrong with my caring about you more than the other folks around here? God, I look at you almost every day and I see someone that deserves to have some good things in her life! Why won’t you let me treat you special?’

“Uh, I got your ‘special treatment’ – down in Pensacola, remember?”

“I remember wanting to make it a real thing, not just somebody crawling off her bed and into my sleeping bag to work off an all-night bender.” Daniel reached out and lifted her chin, bringing them into eye contact as he caressed her cheek. “I seem to remember that there’s no problem between us in that department, either. We managed to get along as a pair quite well that entire weekend, didn’t we? We’re already friends, and there’s never been any reason why we can’t make this into more…”

“Yes, there is.” Amy gently took his hand from her face. “That side-trip from Miami to pick up those cars with you was a mistake. Letting that damned accent of yours get to me after a few drinks and a hundred-degree night was a mistake. Being involved with one Southern man was a mistake.” She stepped away from him, and Daniel knew her well enough to notice the slight flush in her cheeks.

So. She does remember- and not to this South Carolina boy’s detriment, not at all…

He brushed a long, wayward lock of hair back from his forehead, keeping the smile off his face as he noticed Amy look away. She always did like my hair long this way… what, you don’t think I’ve noticed what you like and don’t all these years? “I’ve heard it before, Amy – ‘I’m not going to make the same mistake twice.”

“No, Daniel – I have made the same mistake twice. The thing is, mistakes aren’t errors unless you refuse to correct them. Getting involved with another Southerner is an error I refuse to make. You are my friend – just a friend - and it’s going to stay that way.”

Daniel leaned on the side of the car. “You’re going to wash your hands of generations of fine South Carolina gentlemen because of your dealings with the good Doctor Anton Davidson… no-account Louisiana trash, the way I always figured it – probably one of those strutting peacocks from New Orleans. No – I never did ask, because I figured you’d come down from your ivory tower one day and just open up to me about him.”

“Getting advice on how to deal with jerks, from somebody from who lives in the same neighborhood?”

“That’s the problem, Amy, and you know it. It wasn’t that he was a Southern man, it’s that he wasn’t a good man.” He fixed Amy with a direct stare that she couldn’t turn away from. You also know that I will never walk away from you. You say the word, and I will follow you off the edge of this Earth.”

Amy took a deep breath, counting to ten before she could trust herself to speak. “Well,” she finally uttered, managing to break eye contact as she stepped further from Daniel. “That’s a theory we’re not going to test, out in the real world.”

As Amy turned to walk away, Daniel was temped to call out ‘Your loss’, but held his silence as he watched her leave.

Not her loss, he thought to himself, slowly tapping his forehead on the car’s rooftop. Our loss.

“Damn stupid, stubborn, prideful woman,” he said, lifting his head up as he grasped a heavy, oil-stained towel from its resting place on the hood, and flung it halfway across the area. “DAMN!”

*****

About two hours later, Amy looked up from a book as Paula entered her office, and started going through her refrigerator without asking. “You know, this is part of the reason why I didn’t take you up on your offer to share an office.” Well, one more reason - with the ATA building right across the way…

“Oh, I thought it was because the Sociology department is here in this perfectly-placed location near the center of campus, where you can reach anywhere quickly, and because us warmongers are laagered over in the MTA.” Paula replied, tossing her uniform jacket onto the coat tree before lounging in a worn, comfortable Queen Anne chair next to a window and sipping from a carton of low fat milk. “Speaking of which, I heard you went across the parking lot, and did a little slumming down on the Speed Channel. What rusted-out metal did they drag back to the ATA this semester?”

“You really don’t like Dan, do you?”

“The Baron of Bondo? I don’t really give him much thought at all,” Paula huffed. “Okay, I have. He’s a gearhead.”

“He’s got a Master’s degree in chemistry, and his doctorate is in mechanical engineering.”

“So, he’s the one that keeps the moonshine still and the ‘General Lee’ running, when he’s not reading the comic books to the others while the kid on the porch backs him up on banjo.”

“He’s a full professor here at Tennyson, Paula. He designs cars as well as fixing them – and he’s an expert in the field. If he wanted, he could make millions building specialty cars for movies, and overage adolescents with big wallets.”

“Yeah? I’ll call Lucas.” Paula mimicked making a phone call. “Hello, George? It’s Paula. Those new landspeeders you were thinking about for the next movie? Got the guy for you…”

“He’s my friend, you’re my friend. He’s a redneck car-freak from South Carolina; you’re an elitist Rhode Island snob playing mother hen for Uncle Sam. I have strange friends.”

“I’ll take that as the compliment you meant it to be,” Paula yawned, stretching in the chair as she noticed the bullhorn sitting atop one of the metal file cabinets lining the wall next to the door. “What’s that for?”

“Cassie left it here; it’s from that marching competition they had out on the quad last week.”

“It’s not a ‘marching’ competition, it’s called ‘step,” Paula laughed, tossing the empty milk carton into a wastebasket. “Stop being so white.”

“This from you – the girl from Rhode Island?”

“Oooh – she bites back. So, what’s the latest big project around here – or, what are you supposed to be doing while you eat chocolate and splurge off the wealthy mothers and fathers who send their children to us for an education?”

“They didn’t send them to me,” Amy said, sitting up in her chair. “That’s your cross to bear. As for me - if you must know - I’m sifting through some last-minute additions for our primary project: a multi-generational study of families and the effects of higher education in relation to initial financial base and social settings, as well as geographical placements of the families in question. Right now, however, I’m reading over something one of your warmonger friends wrote. ‘Culling The Herd - The Psychological and Socio-Political Effects, Moral Considerations and Legal Ramifications of Median- and Long-Term Human Engineering Within Closed and Isolated Social Constructs.' Doctoral thesis in psychology by a guy named Armalin. The jacket says that he’s a Marine.”

“Yeah, the name sounds familiar…” Paula mused. “Oh, forget the book. If it were up to me, I’d have you forget all of these books… at least for a weekend… a three- or four-day weekend, if you can. Amy, you work in Washington, D.C.!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Jerome. You. Lunch. If someone had pulled the shades and given me a glass of cold water, I would’ve thought I was on hand for a re-enactment of the Titanic going down!”

“When he wasn’t checking out your legs, he was undressing me with his eyes. I don’t need to even think about going out with some guy who’s just trolling… I knew I shouldn’t have gone over with you to that table…”

“Well, if you’d actually talked to him, let him inside that head of yours a little bit, and let him see the person that I get to see, his eyes wouldn’t have been wandering! He’d have been engaged in conversation with one of the most interesting persons I’ve ever met, and the only thought going through his head would have been ‘Real date. I have to take her out on a real date. My God, what an incredible woman this is – thank you, God, for letting me be smart enough to listen to Paula and go meet her friend over an innocent, stress-free lunch. I’ve got to see her again!”

“I hate being set up with guys.”

“Amy, I love you like a sister, but you’re a pain in the butt! There are unbelievable men walking all over the city and more flock here every day – this city is Hollywood for smart people!”

Paula brushed her hair back. “There are handsome men out there by the truckload, and there’s probably more starlet material running errands and making copies for Congress than you’d find at any L.A. audition! They’re intelligent, motivated, they’re quite capable of making sure that they show you a good time… Why the hell do you think some of the people here got into public office – the chance to help out their fellow citizens? No! It’s to get some measure of power and use it to munch away at the field of hotties wandering the D.C. swamplands!”

Amy shrunk back into her chair, invoking a snarl from Paula. “Oh, no you don’t – don’t you even start with that ‘I’m just a plain-looking woman’ bit – you don’t think I recognize that slouch? Uh, no – I’ve seen how men look at you. As far as they’re concerned, you’re very fair game… and there’s plenty of little boys on this campus who’d kill to help you get your groove back, Stella!”

“Why are you so worried about me finding a guy…?”

Paula’s face softened. “Because you are, bunkie,” she said, leaning forward. “You’re the little sister I never got the chance to have, and it hurts me to see you in pain. Don’t you think I see how you look sometimes when couples walk by; that look you get each and every time you see two of the little kiddies run past hand-in-hand, eyes for each other and no one else in the world…?”

She got up and went over to Amy’s desk, sitting down on the top and picking up the book Amy was reading. “I know that look… they’ve got their lives in front of them, all sorts of doors open and waiting for them to walk through, and you’re wondering if some of those doors are already closed for you.”

Paula looked at the small, framed photo sitting on a shelf just behind Amy’s desk, and walked over to pick it up. The photo was of a young couple; a red-haired young man, and a young woman who looked eerily like Amy…

“You probably don’t even know it, but you’ve been in a low-level funk since just before the school year began… isn’t that when your sister had her twenty-fifth wedding anniversary?”

The puppy-dog look of sadness that tinged Amy’s features brought a lump into her friend’s throat. “I don’t get it, Paula,” Amy said, her voice small. “I know that there’s nothing wrong with me – but sometimes, it seems as if there’s something that’s just not right enough.”

Paula reached over and squeezed Amy’s hand. “God. The fact that we actually think things like that about ourselves… Look. I’ve been your friend for sixteen years. We’ve been through all sorts of crap since grad school – you practically sat my second year for me, what, with me getting to spend that year of ‘Reagan; The Sequel;’ going ‘I’m the QB!’ –

“What?”

“The football’ – I was the officer who got to travel in the motorcade and all over with the briefcase handcuffed to my wrist, remember? If it weren’t for you busting your butt covering for me and getting notes, it would have taken me much longer to finish up. We’re both veterans of the cotillion dance floor, even though one of us had forgotten that opera gloves are not for slapping our senior high-school prom date across the face.”

Amy blushed deeply. “I should have kept my mouth shut.” That’s the second time today I’ve said that…or something close…damn, they do know me.

“Yes, but you just don’t. Still, you’re more than okay, Barksdale. You’ve never considered me ‘your friend who’s…’ – I’ve always been ‘Paula’ to you. I’m your friend. I don’t say it enough, but you can’t know how much that’s always meant to me.”

Paula sat up. “Besides, you’ve never complained about me dating your friends.”

The tiny brunette snapped around. “They’re NOT my friends – they’re women who think I’m gay because I don’t have a guy constantly slobbering all over me-“

“Or just can’t understand your good taste in not letting that redneck take you across the Manson-Nixon Line and fill you up with redneck babies while you’re learning how to make grits, fried corn, ‘johnny cake’ and squirrel ‘n dumplings for a grand Thanksgiving dinner for his sister who’s also his mother,” Paula growled.

Amy let it pass; she suddenly wasn’t paying attention, and her mind wandered off to about the previous Saturday afternoon at her apartment…. If you knew, Paula, you’d snap like a dry branch…

It was just after five, she’d finished reviewing interview tapes of Fabian Nogura and two of his three daughters, and her stomach was growling because she hadn’t bothered to eat since the night before – she was stupid like that, getting so wrapped up in her work… the doorbell rang, and even before she could get any words of protest out at Daniel’s showing up unannounced – hell, just showing up on her doorstep! – The smell rising from the box of carryout had thoroughly distracted her. Brazilian barbeque beef, and before she knew better, she was lying back on her couch, dragon-head slippers kicked carelessly to one side as Daniel massaged her feet… oh, God, where did you learn to do that, you know that it makes every sensible thought just slide right out of my head, but I never think straight when it comes to you anyway-

He was there, right there, with those brown eyes that go soft when he looks at me, and oh, God, I could feel so safe just falling into them, but I’m not going to let that happen, nobody’s getting that close in ever again, I refuse to allow anyone else the chance to make me cry – touch me there again, I love the way you run both of your hands over my ankle like that-

Daniel was smart enough to not say anything; he just followed her lead. Afterwards, they just lay quietly in Amy’s bed as sunlight faded out of the windows, and he slowly stroked her hair, letting her mold against him, feeling her relax as she fell asleep in his arms…such a wonderful feeling, having him holding me like that…

“Next time, do I have to go through Space Command to get a message to you, Amy? Just what the hell were you thinking about just now?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry, where was I – oh, yeah! Anyway, those women hit on me, I tell them I’m straight and then YOU come along and play ‘Air Jordan’, the rebound queen!”

“Being fair, I’ve only done that once.”

“Four years ago, the party to celebrate my getting tenure, the literary agent who hit on me in order to get me to sign with her publisher?”

“Oh, I’d forgotten about Sheridan…” A warm smile crossed Paula’s face, and she tried to wipe the expression away as she saw how Amy looked at her. “Sorry. Amy, you know that you’re okay! Forget this crap they’ve tried to pour down women’s throats about how we have to do this and do that in order to have a fulfilling life! You’ve done exactly what you wanted to do ever since I’ve known you!”

“Is that why we’re friends?”

“Hey, when you’re living your life the way you want in a world that says you have to do things ‘their way’, having a friend that knows how you feel is a pretty damn good thing to have,” Paula replied. “You will find someone, Amy. You do know that, don’t you?”

Amy took off her glasses as she rose from her chair. “I’m going to wash these,” she said, gesturing towards the door of the small washroom. “Be right back.”

As the door closed, Paula stood up and took a deep breath, then released it as she looked around her friend’s office. Damn, she thought as she heard the sound of water running in the sink, she’s probably in there crying because she doesn’t want me to know just how lonely and scared she really is – as if I don’t, already. Damn. An incredible woman… she’s got brains, actually makes money, and doesn’t tolerate fools…and even though she’s not all ‘burlap-sack’ about it, she doesn’t let people see just how attractive she really is…granted, she doesn’t hide herself, but it’s almost genetic, how she just doesn’t let herself open up fully to view – she’s like a peacock that never unfurls it’s tail…

She’s too proud, Paula continued, walking about the office. She wants someone in her life, but she’s not going to compromise or advertise. She thinks it’ll lessen her – and I agree. Besides, it’ll have to be one hell of a man to tame this shrew, anyway!

Hmmn. Get Amy a guy… no… get Amy a husband. Hmmn. This will require thought. Hmmn…I need something to help with the thought process. Now, where does the small, fierce one keep her stash of tasty little love-substitutes…?

The restroom door opened, and Paula could see that Amy had washed her face. “Oh, Amy…”

Amy stopped short as Paula‘s head turned back down to the desk drawer she was going through. “If you’re trying to pilfer my truffes du jour, you’re out of luck.”

“Come on, Amy – cough ‘em up.”

“Can’t. The shipment got snaked at the airport.”

Paula’s head snapped up. “WHAT?”

“I went out to the FedEx depot out at National Airport for my Sprungli overnight package-“

“Ummmn… Wednesday truffes…” Paula let her mind wander…

“…But when I got there, they said that it was missing from the shipment, and someone must have taken it after they unloaded the plane but before it was checked off by the inspectors!”

“Someone must pay.”

“Yeah. In the meanwhile, no Sprungli truffes du jour.” Amy went over to her desk. “And no, I wasn’t in the bathroom crying. Just needed to wash my face - I could smell the oil -“ Her eyes went wide, and she cringed as Paula’s head shot up like a hound catching a scent. “Paula, don’t-“

“Oh, please don’t tell me that you were down at ‘Dan’s Shade Tree Autobody’ getting a lube job!”

“Paula-“

“What is it with you and those rednecks? Damnit. Amy, that other bastard really hurt you, and now you’re letting another one get you all hot and bothered – didn’t that Florida trip get the message across?”

Amy let the shame she momentarily felt bubble over into anger. “You’re not my mother.”

“No – if I was your mother, I’d cut your allowance, take your car, cut your credit card in half and ground you so thoroughly that if a cat walked past your house, you’d think God smote you with lightning! Dan St. John’s been chasing after you since you first set foot on this campus – you know what he’s like!”

He treats me like a lady, lets me be a woman when the urge hits and if I said yes, he’d treat me like an Empress. I’ve read up on him, and the only reason I haven’t asked him and his family to get involved in the study – No. Not with a man that makes me feel that out of control, even if being like that around Daniel makes me feel-

No man will ever hurt me like that again.

“Why the hell aren’t you more concerned with your own romantic relationships?”

“Two reasons! One – I don’t need to worry about finding someone; I’ll just put on a nice gown, hit a few Washington parties and I’ll find some woman that I actually have an interest in beyond the horizontal! It’s not that difficult, because I don’t mind admitting to myself that nobody’s perfect and you have to take the good with the bad in a person! You don’t want to see that or admit it about any guy you remotely like, so you put yourself in a position that lets you dump the guy or run away if EVERYTHING isn’t perfect or he makes even a single mistake!"

"What the hell does that mean?"

"The only reason that you and Anton aren't married and making babies right now is because you just have to have your own way! There's no reason why you couldn't have compromised! There's no reason why you couldn't have gone down there with him - at the very least, you could have taken a sabbatical and worked on the revisions of your book and the new one you're writing now! It wasn't like he wanted you to just sit around and have his dinner waiting on the table when he gets home from classes! GROW UP!”

“SCREW YOU!”

“THAT’S the second reason I wish you’d hurry up and find someone! People talk, Amy! The only reason they don't say we’ve hooked up is because they KNOW I could do a hell of a lot better than you in the dating pool!”

“You absolute bitch.”

“With papers to prove it.” Paula held up her hands, started to pace, and then retrieved her jacket as she headed for the door. “I’m going to get out of here. I need to check some stuff at my office, anyway.”

Amy didn’t look in her direction. “Yeah.”

Paula opened the door; she slipped her jacket on, but stopped as she was almost through the entrance. “I know somebody who can probably get some truffes in for you. I’ll make a call when I get over to the MTA.”

Amy’s voice sounded almost as tired as Paula’s. “You’ll need to wait a week. I can get them by then, Thanks, anyway.”

“I think I can still swing Wednesday’s batch. I’ll be back about six-thirty for dinner. We’ll hit that place over in Georgetown.”

“Yeah, later.”

*****

“Paula Trainor? Well, well, a call from one of the shining stars in my Air Force! What the hell can I do for you?”

Paula sighed as she pressed the receiver back to her ear; she’d been expecting the verbal outburst and held the phone away as soon as she said ‘hello’. “Hello, General Kiieran. I need a favor from you.”

Sitting at his desk at Ramstien Air Force Base in Germany, Lieutenant General Sean Kiieran set a glass of single-malt Scotch down and laughed. “Always liked that about you, Trainor. Not one for small talk, and yet you still managed to get past Captain in my Air Force. Damn, you’re good!”

“First, when’s the next Reserve or Guard T.I.S. flight leaving Ramstien?”

Sean’s brows furrowed; it was an unofficial (and winked-upon) custom among flag-level officers in Europe to send and receive items to and from family members and friends via a quick (and very cheap, next to the freight companies) method. On occasion, fighter planes would be sent back to the United States from Europe or brought over by Air National Guard or Air Force Reserve pilots who were getting flying time in, in order to keep their flight certifications up to date. Of course, since they were going anyway, people naturally took the opportunity to send packages along…

“Tomorrow night. I’ve got damn near a hundred pilots here – the Illinois 182^nd Fighter Group, as well as some boys from the New Hampshire Air National Guard – oh, yeah, got some guys from your neck of the woods here, too. They’re Guard - with the 358^th Tactical, out of Maryland… came over in Fifteen-Echoes. ‘Strike-Eagles’. Somebody’s planning on playing in the mud, and those Air Guard boys got some extra flight time in by flying them over. You need a delivery?”

“Well, that depends on you, sir. How mad is your wife at you this week?”

Fifty-three year old eyes darted immediately over to a trio of silver-and-beige bags sitting atop a wall shelf, next to a photograph of a young man standing before a Vietnam-era F-105 Thunderchief fighter-bomber. “Trainor, I’ve got a sixteen-year-old daughter who looks like she’s thirty, likes chasing pilots, and Lainie’s pissed at me because I won’t pull each pilot on the base in and tell them that I’ll cut their balls off with their own wings if they go near Sarah. I got her six pounds.”

“Today?”

“You mean ‘yesterday’, don’t you? Women get crazy over the Wednesday batches those people make! I can’t give you any-“

“Sir, I need two pounds.”

“Damn it, Trainor, did you hear me? It’s for my wife, my daughter AND I try to keep two pounds on hand just in case one of my people gets stupid in one of the local cathouses, so they won’t make a big stink with the law over here!”

“I’ll get you and your family on the guest list at Buckingham Palace this coming New Year’s Eve.”

“It’s almost seven-thirty here,” Sean said without hesitation. “They’re under the twelve-hour rule, so these kids have probably started in at the Officer’s Club. I’d better go and grab one before they really get wound up…”

“General – I could use this yesterday.”

“Understood, Colonel… and you’re welcome. Call me sometimes when you don’t need a favor.”

Paula laughed, and settled in to talk to her former mentor. “Actually, I’ll just make sure that you and your wife have a good time at the party. I’ll fly over a day or so before, so I can attend…”

*****

“So, who’s the ‘designated driver’ tonight, boys?”

A loud roll of laughter filled the souvenir-covered walls of the Officer’s Club, and the sea of pilots parted to reveal two pilots seated at a table in the middle of the room. “Well, we’ve got two of them tonight, gentlemen, both from the proud state of Maryland!” a tow-haired major said, lifting two cans of Pepsi and two glasses of ice from the bar and over to them. “Gentlemen – we have here tonight a proud team! We have ‘Bolt’ – who graciously accepted this proud posting, after defending his unit’s honor against the pride of the Royal Air Force!”

The major put a soda can down in front of the annoyed, muscular African-American officer, who growled at him. “A shame that he doesn’t handle a deck of cards with the same skill he handles his bird. We also have ‘Gumball’, who flew wingman for his friend, and thereby must also share in his shame! A frosty beverage for you as well!”

Lt. Colonel Maurice Wyatt stared daggers at the pilot with his jade-green eyes, and ran a finger through his scarlet hair as the pilot retreated back to the bar and hoisted a drink in his direction. “To ‘Gumball’ and ‘Bolt!”

The assembled crowd lifted glasses in salute, and Major Lyle Wallister popped the top of his Pepsi as he turned back to his friend. “I’m sorry, Reese. Once again, the mouth overloads the brain -”

“So I had to back you up. Damned soccer punks with gold wings,” Reese growled. “You’d think with all the time they spend drinking, cussing and kicking French ass, none of them would have the time to play well. Oh, man. We got hosed.”

“Yeah, we did,” Lyle laughed. “By the way – again – thanks for the heads-up on that girl.”