Amir stood in the man's office with a smile on his face. The American had proved himself and the Left Hand had decided to give him the honor to complete the plan. The man didn't care, as long as he didn't mess it up. There was too much at stake.

17 days

Annabeth sat on the balcony of her condo and sipped on her iced tea. The view was one of the things that had sold her on this particular location, and she loved it. The lights of the city reflected off the lake in Piedmont Park making tiny glittering stars in the water. Overhead, though they were dimmed, the real stars twinkled. She sighed happily and stroked Precious sitting on her lap. There were times that Ms. Clara's animals made Annabeth want to scream. However, when they weren't digging up her ferns hanging around the small space or trying to scratch the fabric off her chaise, she enjoyed their company. Like now, when she was contemplating how her life had changed in the past few years, her fingers slid through the cat's fur absently. The repetitive action calmed her.

"You've been quiet lately."

She greeted her neighbor as she continued to stroke the velvety length of Precious' back eliciting a deep purr from the feline. "I've had a lot on my mind. My new client is a jerk, and my best friend is off in Hollywood, consulting on a movie script. The biggest book convention of the year is coming up in a few weeks."

Ms. Clara sat down on her side of the balcony and sipped from a delicate china cup. Placing it back on the small table at her side, she stared out over the view. "And, it doesn't help that today is their anniversary."

Annabeth's head whipped to the side. "I didn't know you knew."

The older woman's chuckle filled the air. "It's only been three years. My memory isn't that far gone yet. You had only moved in that year. It was before Stinky and Popcorn passed away. Those two spent more time over here than the others."

"I remember. That was before you got on the Tolkien kick."

The two sat in silence for several moments before it was broken by Ms. Clara. "I know you miss them."

"I do. Not a day goes by that I don't wish I could talk to Mom again. I can't watch any old movies without thinking about Dad. That was our thing - watching old movies together. There are so many memories that are tied up with everyday things. I've been told that time heals all wounds, but not this one. This hurt is in my very soul and just as raw as the day I kissed her cheek and told her I loved her as she slipped away."

The skyline became watery as Annabeth watched the dancing lights. She didn't bother wiping her eyes as her heartbreak dripped down her face.

"I have always had a fierce independence streak; sometimes, it was almost too fierce. Momma and Daddy were both blue-collar workers right here in Atlanta. Daddy worked night shifts for a local manufacturing company as the head of maintenance and Momma was a beautician in a downtown salon. Because of that, Grace and I had to fend for ourselves a lot of the time. Grace is six years younger than me so it was up to me to keep her entertained. We got a small allowance as kids, and we saved them up for trips. Ten dollars a week turned into adventures once a month. We figured out the Metro schedules before I could drive. Ballgames, the Aquarium, concerts... you name it, and we did it. Atlanta was our playground. When I got my first job, then I could pay more for us. One year, I bought us season passes for Six Flags. That summer, we spend every moment we could there. Sometimes, Momma and Daddy would go but it was mostly just Grace and I. They were too tired to go and do after working so hard."

Ms. Clara said nothing, simply listening as Annabeth talked.

"We had a great childhood. They weren't there a lot, but the house was filled with love. Momma left for work at six to beat the almost two-hour commute into the city just as Daddy made it home from his twelve-hour shift. They were two ships in passing, and Daddy often joked it was their crazy schedules that insured they had a happy marriage. They were never home together enough to fight." Annabeth smiled at the bittersweet memory. "When they were together, it was more than obvious how much in love they were. Perhaps having so little time to spend together insured that the time they did have was precious. Then Daddy was diagnosed with stage four lung cancer. I remember that day so well. We all thought it was bronchitis again. He smoked like a chimney, but his cough was so much worse than normal. We had dinner together that weekend. Afterward, we were sitting on the sofa, watching Elliot play on the floor, and Daddy just blurted the news out. We were floored. 'I have cancer, and it's bad. Now, I'm not going to give in. I intend to fight, but they only give me three months. You girls have to promise me that you won't give in either. This family has been through a lot, but together we are strong.'"

Annabeth stood, causing Precious to jump down and saunter into Ms. Clara's lap. Stretching, she curled up into a ball and resumed her nap. Her mistress said nothing, simply running her gnarled fingers through the silky fur.

"Momma retired from her job and spent every moment taking care of him. He lived another six months past the prognosis. Grace says it was pure stubbornness. He was a shell of the man he had been. We made a bedroom out of the dining room, so Momma didn't have to go up the stairs to sleep. I remember the sounds of the machines that supplied air for him and the smell of antiseptic covering everything. His oncologist wanted to put him into a care facility, but Momma said no. She wanted him with her, in the home they built together." She swallowed as the painful memories made her throat close.  After a moment, she continued.

"Grace was in the kitchen, washing dishes after dinner. Momma was half lying on the bed, watching the news and I was sitting there, holding his hand when his time came. He just breathed his last, and she kissed his cheek and told him she would see him again one day. It was all so bittersweet. One minute he was there, then he wasn't."

Annabeth shook herself. Wiping her fingers over her damp cheek, she whispered, "Momma had a massive stroke exactly five weeks after his death. She lived long enough for us to get to the hospital to tell her goodbye. We buried her next to him. To this day, we believe Momma grieved herself to death. She just couldn't contemplate a life without her soul mate. She told him she would see him again, and that was a promise she intended to keep. Now Grace and I only have each other."

"Ah, I had wondered. Now I understand."

Annabeth's brows wrinkled. "What do you mean?"

There was a creak as Ms. Clara slowly rose to her feet. With a shuffling step, she made her way to the small gate that separated the two sides of their shared balcony. Gripping the railing in her hands, she leaned forward.

"I wondered why you stayed in Atlanta. At first, I thought it was your job, but you told me most of your clients are in other cities or even states. Then I thought it was because of Grace, but she moved to Tennessee. I know the lease here is year by year, so that isn't it."

Her too bright eyes seared Annabeth as she talked. "But now I see. It's fear. You're afraid of forgetting."

"That doesn't even make sense, Ms. Clara."

"It makes perfect sense." She lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. "Atlanta is your home; it's the place that holds so many memories for you. The house where you were raised, the places you and your sister visited together. It represents safety and a thousand memories that make up your past. It's the connection to your parents."

"I guess so."

"There's no guessing about it. Let me ask you something, and I want you to think hard about your answer. What about your Navy young man?"

"Hick?" Her head shot up, and she stared at her neighbor. Where had that come from?

"Yes, Hick. What about him?"

"I don't understand."

She barked a laugh. "You understand; don't play possum with me."

Annabeth felt her cheeks redden. She was asking the question that had been on Annabeth's mind constantly. Where did Hick fit into her life?

"He's my friend."

"Horse pucky! I may be an old woman with old eyes, but I can see what you obviously can't or won't." She opened the gate and walked through then sat on the end of the chaise Annabeth had vacated. Pointing her finger at the younger woman, she narrowed her eyes. "He's head over heels for you and you for him. It's clear enough for a blind man to see."

Annabeth laughed uncomfortably. "Oh no, you have it all wrong. We are friends." She remembered the hints he had given her that he wanted more. She warmed at the thought. "Or at least that is all we have time for right now. Even if it could be more, it's not exactly an ideal situation we are living."

"There's always time; you just have to find a way through. Your parents worked opposite shifts but still found time to have a family and a life together."

"They lived in the same house."

"And yet, they were still apart. Sleeping in an empty bed is still an empty bed. Being in the same house is just geography. However, they still were able to have a beautiful life together with you and Grace."

"But his job is dangerous," she cajoled.

"Every job has its dangers," Ms. Clara retorted. "My Henry was a luggage handler at the airport for twenty-eight years. After the first three, I asked him not to tell me how many times he'd almost gotten killed on that damned tarmac. James works in accounting in Philadelphia. You'd think that was safe, wouldn't you? They replaced some windows on the building he worked at, and one of them crashed to the sidewalk six inches behind him as he walked to lunch one day. The wind of it almost knocked him down. Even your job is dangerous. You fly all over the place several times a year. I worry that you will be on the wrong flight some day. Your job is dangerous too."

"Jeez, please don't speak that into being!"

Ms. Clara chuckled, "I'm just reminding you that life is short and nothing is guaranteed to us. You need to find the little things that make you happy and hold on to them with both hands. Henry left me at fifty-three. We had thirty-five beautiful years together, and I wouldn't trade one of them for all the tea in China. Do I wish there were more? You bet your bumpkus. When he died, I thought my insides had frozen over. I had to find a reason to wake up each day. I had to find a reason to live again."

"What was it?" The story spellbound Annabeth.

"James," Ms. Clara finished triumphantly. "And Henry."

She wrinkled her brow. "Henry?"

"I had to live for him too. Because of those memories we shared and the life we had. I owed it to him and to me to carry on the life we had together. It's hard. Some days it becomes so hard I feel it like a huge boulder on my shoulders. But I remember Henry's smile and I pick myself up and keep going. I do it for James, Mara and the grandkids. Who is going to tell them what a wonderful man their grandfather was? But the point here is love is a beautiful mess, and you are lucky to find someone who wants to spend their life with you."

Annabeth shook her head, "No, it's not like that. Hick is a free spirit. He has to be in California. When they call, he has to go. He has enough to worry about without throwing me into the mix."

"You're already in the mix." Ms. Clara studied Annabeth's face then continued. "The day he had to leave when you were at work, I sat there on that balcony and watched him. He was sitting right here, where I am, staring out over the lake. He didn't know I was there, and I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but well, I'm a nosey old woman, so I didn't say anything. He talked to you and how sorry he was that he couldn't stay longer. He spoke about things that I'm not going to talk about because it's not my place. Those things should come from him. I think you need to hear them with an open mind and an open heart."

Something warm bloomed in Annabeth's stomach. She craved to know what Hick had said when she wasn't there. A niggling voice in her heart told her it was going to be very important. Even though she knew he was in a four-day training exercise, she longed to hear his voice.

"Maybe I should call him."

Ms. Clara climbed to her feet and nodded. "Maybe you should. And Annabeth, take some advice from an old woman: it's okay to remember and honor the past, but don't live your life in it. Your sister doesn't need you taking care of her any longer. Your parents are together for eternity. None of them would want you to pass your happiness by to hold on to something for them."

"Yes, ma'am," she said absently as she reached for her cell. She didn't notice as the old woman shuffled through the gate and into her own house. Instead, she waited for his voicemail to pick up.

Levi Salter. Leave your message, and I'll call when I can. If you're calling from Publisher's Clearinghouse, I'll take the lump sum. If you're from the police, I can explain. Probably. If it's a gorgeous redheaded literary agent with killer curves and the most beautiful smile who lives in Atlanta, hey Georgia. You're never far from my mind and don't believe anything Toad tells you. He was drunk. Or maybe I was? Anyway, here's the tone.

BEEEEP

"Dear God," she muttered but smiled.