Driven by Desire

Chapter One

Clara paused at the door of the chic hotel lounge and inhaled deeply. Despite not being a frequent visitor to nightclubs, the music, the clink of ice cubes in glasses, the soft lighting, and the chatter and laughter all undermined her confidence. They entered the darkened room, and she had to force herself not to grab Jonny's arm.

The venue was packed, reeking of beer, perfume, and a lot of noise, as was typical for a Saturday night in los Angeles While the servers rushed back and forth to their workstations, two bartenders remained busy pouring drinks for the patrons of the bar. On the dance floor, dancers moved to the mellow, dreamy music provided by a four-piece band.

Clara had a moment of self-consciousness as she moved across the room, feeling eyes on her. She was not accustomed to cocktail lounges or barrooms. She was more comfortable at church socials.

We are being stared at," Clara said in a whisper to Johnny .

jonny laughed. "Silly, they will naturally gaze at someone as attractive as you. When men are interested, they act in this way.

Clara recalled a quote about barrooms: A sex-pool for the lonely hearts seeking love on Saturday nights. "But what are you interested in?" Clara asked in a righteous manner.

"Hurry up, Clara This is harmless entertainment. We are here to dance and enjoy ourselves."

With a friendly promise, she said, "I will try."

Jonny strolled through the bar as though he were at home, looking around at everyone and taking pleasure in the men's approving looks. He was not at all bothered by the attention. He went to their table after spotting their friends, who were all teachers at the same elementary school.

"I am happy you were able to attend, Clara. I had faith that Jonny, your gay best friend, could get you out if anyone could. In an attempt to make fun of Jonny, Laura laughed.

Clara protested, "Do not do that, he has more positive qualities than any of you could imagine."

"All that being said, Clara, you appear to have just stepped out of a magazine. You are very beautiful. stated Laura Clara's grade-level teacher. She observed that Clara no longer resembled the conservative suits, dresses, slacks, and blouses she wore to school. Her blond hair looked gorgeous against the black cocktail dress that sculpted her figure.

"Wow, you look amazing," said red-haired Mabel, who also looked fantastic in a form-fitting, slinky green dress.

Clara mumbled, "Thanks," her face feeling warm.

The band began a spirited song that was too loud to allow for conversation. Clara and Jonny sat down and ordered from the waitress.

Three men swept Laura, Mabel, and Sandra off to the dance floor. Clara was soon approached by another man who asked her to dance. "No thank you," she said, shaking her head. The man left. After giving Clara a stern look for not dancing, Jonny waltzed toward the dance floor when someone asked him to.

Clara saw Jonny's face light up with laughter as he and his partner spun around the floor, enjoying themselves. A sudden twinge of loneliness struck Clara as she saw Jonny's carefree joy. Unlike her pals, she lacked the time and independence to enjoy life. Her wish was to have stayed at home.

Clara received an invitation to dance from another man who approached the table. When she declined, they stopped inquiring. Glancing at her friends on the dance floor and the bustling activity of the waitresses and bartenders, she raised her tall glass and sipped some champagne .

At that moment, she noticed him observing her.

With one leg draped over the other and his hands gripping his knee, he sat on a bar stool facing her. He had a good-looking, well-bred appearance. His sophisticated look caught Clara's eye and made her heart skip a beat. All of her thoughts, anxieties, and worries from a hectic day abruptly disappeared. Perhaps it was the blonde hair, which matched her own color. It might have been his height and muscularity, or his dark tan. She had no idea. It made no difference. She simply knew that he was the most attractive man she had ever laid eyes on.

Her heart pounded with excitement. An elusive connection was formed between him and her by a moment in space and time. What kind of cunning fate caused her to react so strongly to just his glance? It was unclear to her.

She saw him leave the bar stool and stroll amiably in her direction. Her heart was pounding, and she was afraid she would say something stupid and unintelligible.

"Greetings my lady, I am Nelson Williams. Will you join me in dancing? Like a man unused to rejection, he extended his hand to her.

A shy smile spread across Clara's face like warm bath water as she looked up at him.

She grinned and took his hand, saying, "My name is Clara Dalton." She felt feminine just by the touch of his hand when he put an arm around her waist as they made their way to the dance floor.

His muscular, corded arms wrapped her in pillow warmth as he pulled her against him. All of her senses were overwhelmed by the sensation of unity with Nelson Williams and the pressure of that hard body against her. She had heard of instant attraction, but she had never heard of instant love. Nevertheless, the feelings she experienced had all the sensual and delightful aspects of love.

Nelson took a moment to distance himself from her and stared at her face, which was illuminated by the bandstand lights. She had a smooth, milky, honey complexion. She had large, doe-like eyes that were a brilliant blue, almost the same color as his. Her warm curves molded and fit against him as if they were designed specifically for that purpose. She was more attractive than any woman he had ever seen, he concluded. For a brief moment, he likened her to tracy, who was stunning but fell short of this woman's exquisite beauty.

"You must be a professional woman," Nelson remarked.

In response, Clara said, "I teach elementary school."

"Divorced, married, or unmarried?"

"I do not have a partner."

His eyes scanned the area. "How often do you visit here?"

"No, I have never done this before. My friend Jonny insisted that I needed to unwind and have a good time.

"Are you enjoying yourself and unwinding?" In between songs, they stood motionless on the dance floor. Nelson pondered how long it had been since he had sex and pictured Clara's potential sexual behavior.

"Everything has gotten better," she remarked sulkily.

Nelson's hand moved smoothly down her dress's smooth surface to her hip's gentle curve. He pulled her closer against him.

"How about we go somewhere to talk without all the noise?"

The phrase "lonely hearts seeking love" came to clara's attention. Not completely unaware of the significance of such an invitation in a barroom, she replied drily, "No, thank you." Withdrawing from him, she made her way to her seat.

He took her arm and urged her to wait. It was just a sincere invitation. Perhaps I ought to have invited you over for coffee.

"I would really like to sit down right now, if that is okay with you." She had decided it was time to go home in the short time after he suggested they go somewhere quiet.

"Does this imply that we will not ever dance again?"

"I think I would like to skip this one, but I really liked the dance." She sipped her champagne and sat down.

"I will inquire in a short while. Perhaps you will reconsider.

As Nelson left, Clara observed him strolling leisurely in the direction of the men's room. As soon as he disappeared, Clara picked up her handbag and made her way to the dance floor, where she interrupted Jonny and his male partner. "I have to go."

"Is everything going well?" Concerned, Trudy's eyes wrinkled at the corners as she asked.

Sure, are you able to ride along with the girls?

"Yes.

Clara hurried outside to her car, still feeling the warm excitement Nelson William had ignited in her. She had sexual cravings, just like everyone else, and she was curious about the pleasures she could have had with him. I felt cozy and at ease on the inside after his warm embrace on the dance floor, but then I suddenly felt sad.

Any girlish illusions were beginning to crumble under the weight of her life's responsibilities. Nelson William and everyone else had no place in her world, aside from her job and her disabled parents. Nevertheless, she was hot with curiosity about what it would be like to date a man like that.

She dismissed the illusions by shaking her head.

Nelson William had made a firm promise just before they met to find a suitable candidate to bear him a child so that he could fulfill the terms of his grandfather's will and receive his trust fund, but she had no way of knowing that she had left a lasting impression on him. She was also unaware that he would look for her in order to carry out those plans with her. She doubted he could find her because she had provided him with very little information about herself, even if he wanted to get in touch with her again.

She believed that she would never see Nelson William again.

Well She was mistaken.

Chapter Two

On the other side of Doctor Peter's big mahogany desk, which was cluttered with paperwork and patient folders, Clara sat beside her parents. Her mood was as gloomy as usual during their monthly doctor's appointments as she gazed at her hands clasped tightly in her lap and glanced at her father, mother, and Dr. Peter The loneliness brought on by the diagnosis, which was worse than the last visit and left little hope that it would ever get better, could only be eased by the pleasant memories of Saturday night spent with Nelson

There was no chance of recovery for her father's three-year-old Alzheimer's disease. There was no improvement in her mother's deteriorating arthritis. Her limbs were so severely twisted by arthritis that any activity made her gnarled fingers and toes hurt even more, making movement painfully slow and agonizing. Additionally, Clara's condition was emotional, whereas Matilda and Stanley's were physical. Her heart ached to see her parents go through this. She would gladly have taken on their burden if she could have.

Matilda's bony, gnarled fingers wrapped protectively around 's hand. Never before had her fears felt so real. She could almost guess what was going through Doctor Peter's busy mind because he had given her enough clues about what to expect from past visits. She looked desperately at Clara, who was staring blindly at her folded hands on her lap, her lovely face looking unusually pale.

"Matilda you and Clara are both aware of your obligations. "Put Stanley in a nursing home," suggested the benevolent Doctor Peter , who was well aware of the suffering his suggestion caused. "You two are not in a position to take care of him. You have your teaching job, Clara and you can not handle the responsibility because of your arthritis, Matilda . You can only take care of yourself by doing this. Although his voice sounded sympathetic, his faded gray eyes were filled with a powerful appeal.

Matilda hung her head, appearing worn out and confused by the idea of a nursing home. Her gaze remained fixed on Stanley's expressionless face as a tear was squeezed from the corner of one eye. She talked very softly. "Have I mentioned that I used to have a friend in a nursing home?" She took a moment for impact. Indeed, I did. A couple of times a week, I would go see her. I saw what had become of her life. There was only the cemetery to look forward to, and each day was dreadful.

"I have to leave, Matilda," she insisted on telling me. "I have to leave this place or I will die."

After several days, weeks, and months, she eventually stopped talking about returning home. She merely lay there staring at the ceiling and hardly acknowledged my visits when I went to see her. She had nothing left to live for, so she gave up hope. One night, she just stopped breathing and passed away from sheer despair.

"Bottles of hope are not distributed in nursing homes. It is the final location you visit when your life is coming to an end. Matilda's eyes were filmed by tears, which then grew into bright pools and spilled over, covering her swollen cheeks.

If our roles had been reversed, do you think Stanley would have placed me in a nursing home? He never would have, and I am not going to do it either, I promise. My Stanley will never be placed in one of those locations as long as I have any say in the matter.

Clara observed the expressions on her parents' faces without speaking, but she knew that her mother had no say in the matter since she was unable to function without her walker. She and Dr. Peter both looked to Clara to make the ultimate choice, even in spite of her mother's declaration.

She felt like fleeing for the first time in her life in order to avoid having to make a decision she did not want to make. At twenty-five, she ought to be traveling and engaging in activities that make her laugh, such as spending a Saturday evening with Nelson William. Rather, she sat here, burdened by things she never would have imagined having in the future. She had never felt pulled in so many directions at once, both by realistic Doctor Peter and the agony of her mother. She saw her own life evaporating before her eyes because she would undoubtedly have to give up any plans for the future in order to care for her parents. If a woman had parents with disabilities, no man would ever want to be responsible for them. She felt like a huge wave washed away all hope as hopeless futility for her own life poured through her.

She briefly remembered Nelson and the amazing sensation of his arms as they danced. She would love to take it to new heights, but for her, it had been a Cinderella night. However, she was aware at the time that it was impossible for dreams to develop from such encounters. She had no time for romantic relationships because of her work as a teacher and her parental guardianship.

Doctor Peter appeared troubled but sympathetic. He observed young Clara's face, which was a blank slate with no sign of the suffering that was going on inside. He knew she experienced all of her parents' sufferings sympathetically and emotionally, and she was acutely aware of their needs. Her life had completely changed the moment she returned home from college after learning that her parents had been diagnosed with Alzheimer's and arthritis, two illnesses that cripple the body and the mind, respectively, just weeks apart. Clara unknowingly switched roles with her parents, taking on the role of parent rather than child. Her circumstances were very difficult for someone so young; her responsibilities doubled before she had a chance to test her limits.

"Clara, you have to talk to her," Dr. Peter implored, tilting his head toward Matilda. "Neither of you are capable of taking care of Stanley . What if he wanders off somewhere, gets lost so no one can find him, or worse, gets hit by a car?"

Clara listened carefully, understanding the implications presented. This wasn't the first time the idea had been put to her, nor was it the first time she gave it her thoughtful attention. Many nights she lay awake, thinking, praying, wishing for some answer to the growing concerns her parents' diminishing health created.

Still, no plausible answer emerged. Only the bold reality of a situation that could seal all of their fates was present; there were no miracles. Her father would lose the house he had worked so hard to build for them all if he were sent away, and what about her mother? In the end, would she also have to send her away? Even though she had no way of knowing how she would handle it, she had only one choice to make after weighing the possibilities, the consequences, and the advantages and disadvantages.

When Doctor Peter first mentioned it to her, she had already been to the nearest nursing home. She had many sleepless nights because of what she saw. Her visit only served to highlight how justified her mother's desire to keep her father at home was. She was shocked to see how miserable many of the residents were. Skeletal beings were lying in bed, pleading with anyone to help them or give them water, their arms outstretched to anyone who happened to walk by in the hallway.

Some lay like death itself, their sheets ripped off to reveal nakedness and bed sores as they lay in their own excrement, their eyes blank and lifeless. Feeding tubes protruded from people's noses or stomachs, and they resembled dead vegetables unable to turn over on their own, with the tubes providing their only source of life. Others sat in wheelchairs in the hallways, drooling and dripping saliva from the corners of their mouths, and lacking the energy to keep their heads from drooping loosely on their chests.

In the dining hall, food trays were placed in front of each person. The majority of the food fell back on their plates or in their laps as some, who could barely hold a spoon in their hands, attempted to push and lift it to their mouths. Their failure was followed by another fruitless attempt. When some people scooped food with their fingers and then, worse, buried their face in their plate and raked the food to their lips, it was not shocking. Nurses' assistants were feeding a lot of people, but there were not enough of them to go around. A healthy person would not have been able to eat because of the offensive odors of waste and urine mixed with the food.

Clara discussed those concerns with Doctor Peter primarily as a distraction to delay making a choice. She knew there was no going back once she made the decision, so she was prolonging it.

Her mother's peace of mind would be destroyed if her father were sent to a nursing home.

Any chance Clara had of ever leading a normal life would be destroyed if she kept him at home.

She was no longer motivated by selfishness, and she had never been self-centered toward her parents. However, her aspirations were similar to those of almost every young American girl. She desired a husband, kids, and a house of her own. The demands of responsibility crushed her dream because she had to take care of her parents.

"There are other nursing homes," Doctor Peter suggested feebly, knowing that all, even the ones that were noted as the better ones, was only as good as the people running them or working there. From all he had witnessed in his life as a doctor, old age was not a blessing, not when people deteriorated to such feebleness they could no longer live with any dignity or purpose. He was careful with those opinions, though. He was sworn to uphold the Hippocratic Oath and give life so long as breath could be carried into someone's lungs. It was his duty as a doctor. It was not a kindness to mankind, however.

"Clara can you forget how he worked so hard to earn money so we could live in a nice house, how he worked overtime many nights, taking on extra clients to send you and Bonnie through college? Have you forgotten all the dreams he once had for retirement? I beg you not to do this to your father. If you do it to him, then you do it to me also. Wherever he goes, I go, too, and I promise you I'll find a way to put the both of us out of our misery."

"Mama, you're not helping with that kind of talk. How can you even consider such a thing?"

"I agree," Doctor Peter said despite his convictions. "Matilda, have you considered your daughter at all, what this will do to her life if she agrees to let Frederick stay home? What about her future? What's going to happen to her when the two of you are totally dependent upon her? Do you expect her to give up her life to give you what you want?"

"Please don't, Doctor Peter," Clara begged quietly, not wanting to add to the pain weighing on her mother's sagging shoulders. "She cares what happens to me, but after visiting that nursing home, I can truly understand her not wanting Dad put there."

Matilda looked at her daughter with love and guilt in her teary eyes. "What he says is accurate, Clara. I am a self-centered old lady. I am not sure what is right anymore. Dear God, I simply know that the thought of going there or leaving my Stanley there is intolerable. What should we all do?

Clara listened to her mother and Doctor Peter with great care and respect, but when she looked at Matilda angry face, which seemed to be a fear of what her daughter would say, Clara made a choice that would impact her life for the rest of her days. She looked up at good old Doctor Peter after lowering her chin for a moment. "Mom is right," she uttered after giving it careful thought. "He will remain at home."

She glanced toward her father, who turned and looked at her as though he understood. She could have almost sworn she saw a timid smile on his lips and a flicker of recognition.

Doctor Peter saw it, too. "Don't put hope in that, Clara He's never going to get better."

Matilda's dry sniffling suddenly broke into a flood of relieved tears. Her hope was revived by her precious daughter. Without Clara she and Stanley both might as well be dead.

She released Stanley's hand and placed her arms about Clara's neck. "Thirty years ago Stanley and I spoke our vows. Till death do us part, we both said. I could not live, Clara, if I knew we were to be separated. Thank you, my darling. Thank you for giving an old woman hope."

Till death do us part, Clara thought. Is that to be my fate with my parents?

Just two nights ago she had danced the night away in Nelson's arms while wishing such moments could last forever. Now, the concept of forever looked awfully barren and empty to her.

Chapter 3

As the day grew warmer and windier, pleasant gusts of wind blew through the trees, causing the leaves to dance. In celebration of the wonderful weather, smaller bushes swayed merrily. Clara used to often lie in the sun at the beach when she was still in high school, and now would have been the ideal time to do so.

The situation had changed. With Stanley and Matilda in the back seat like two dependent kids and Clara in the front seat, overwhelmed by the massive responsibility she had chosen to take on for God only knew how long, she drove them home. Her thin shoulders slumped, just as her mother's had done before, as if a heavy burden had been placed on them.

As she parked as near the house as she could in the driveway, Clara took in the view of the yard. With everything growing and green, it was a beautiful time of year. The scent of freshly cut grass filled her nostrils after the lawn care man mowed it yesterday. She briefly wished she had more time to plant some vibrant perennials, but she quickly dismissed the idea. She could never find enough time in a day to accomplish all of her goals.

Clara assisted Matilda from the car first, bringing out her walker. She then urged Stanley to leave, but he refused to comply for some reason. He slapped her wrist a few times as she tightened her hold on his arm, ignoring her prodding. "Please leave, Dad. We must enter the building. They will charge me for a full day's absence rather than a half day if I arrive late for work.

He refused to move. His words and sentences came together in a confused, nonsensical babbling as he started to speak.

Matilda dragged her walker up to the car. Her hair swept behind her head as the wind grew stronger. Frederick, you must leave, my love. Clara needs to leave for work.

And feed you lunch before I go, Clara thought wearily, wishing she could just hop in her car and drive away like everyone else. Her decision at the doctor's office demonstrated how much she loved her parents and would do anything for them. She was still a human, though. She found it extremely difficult at times to put her parents' needs and wants ahead of her own. She never seemed to be able to accomplish her goals exactly. She resisted the urge to snap at her mother due to mood swings that could make her tongue sharp. That would not be acceptable, and she must not, not even for a second, let her self-control give way.

Stanley crawled out of the car as though he understood Matilda. With a slow, interminable push and lift, Matilda put his hand on her arm and walked toward the house on her walker. As she lowered one foot and raised another, her feet on the sidewalk appeared to defy her weight. Every movement caused a pained grimace on her face. Perhaps the trip to the doctor's office and the mental anguish she had experienced over the idea of placing Stanley in a nursing home had made her arthritis seem worse today.

After checking her watch and seeing how slowly Matilda was making her way to the house, Clara unlocked the front door and stood waiting, her patience ebbing. Clara inhaled deeply and told herself that although she felt compelled to hurry, Matilda was unable to do so. She was startled by guilt and instantly felt bad for being impatient with her mother.

"I can reheat our lunch, Clara, if you would like to leave, my love."

"Mama, I will do it." She could complete tasks that would take Matilda at least half an hour in ten minutes.

She grabbed plates of food from the fridge, which she had made from leftovers the night before, wrapped them in wax paper, and microwaved each one individually. She placed the hot food on the table and poured each of them a glass of tea. She took another look at her watch. She did not have enough time to eat lunch or prepare a sandwich for herself. She picked up an apple and carried it with her.

"Do not try to clean up, Mom. She kissed both of her parents and hurried off to her job, saying, "I will do it when I come home."

When she could spend a few minutes alone and free from obligations, she was grateful for the drive to school. Since the evenings were occupied with preparing dinner, cleaning up afterward, doing laundry, and all the other household tasks, it was the closest thing to leisure time she could claim. In addition to helping her mother with her bath, she also assisted Stanley with his bath to the extent that her modesty allowed. Then, when she was ready to go to sleep, she focused on her schoolwork instead. It was necessary to grade papers, read journals, and write comments. In addition to recording grades, there was a review of the lesson plans for tomorrow.

At times, it all seemed too much, and the only way to get rid of the worries, pains, and constant guilt was to get a good night's sleep. A day hardly passed, but Clara wished repeatedly that she could endure her parents' suffering for them in order to return their lives to normal.

At other times, she grieved for herself, for the boyhood dreams that would die, for the husband and kids she would never have. At these moments, her senses were assaulted by frustration and anger, which then transformed into guilt, the constant motivator that kept her moving forward with her mission to help her parents.

The only thing that kept her sane at times seemed to be teaching. Personal thoughts were put on hold for a while because it was difficult to teach and think about other things at the same time. During lunch, break time, or her working hours when the kids were in music, art, or physical education, they rushed back. At that moment, she rushed to the phone to call her parents to see how they were doing.

The speed at which each day flew by was yet another powerful benefit of teaching. There was never enough time in a day due to a busy schedule. It went by far too fast; at times, the day seemed to have ended before it had even started. Some teachers frequently wished the school day was longer because they were so engrossed in their students and their education.

The afternoon flew by on this particular day, when she only worked half a day, and Clara sent her students home. She started grading some math papers after organizing, stacking, and paper-clipping the mountain of class assignments and homework. She was too distracted to focus when she was alone with her thoughts, so she rested her head on her messy desk and contemplated how she would continue to handle the mountain of obligations that were taking over her life.

When the classroom door opened, Clara did not hear it, but she heard a voice and looked up. Dejectedly, she lifted her head.

"Are you alright, Clara?" It was Jonny Craig, her best gay friend; he was tall, thin, adorable, and had a big heart. Without him, how could she possibly survive?

Just another one of those days. This morning, I was required to take Mom and Dad to the doctor for their monthly examination.

"And?" Jonny asked, resting a hip on the desk's edge.

"Everything is the same. Mom continues to deteriorate every month, and Dad appears to be in as good of health as a teenager aside from his mental illness. We were advised by Dr. Peter to place Dad in a nursing home.

"Will you?"

With thoughtfulness, she shook her head. "No, Mom is against it. I could not do it even if she did not object. Jonny, I went to the nursing home, and I think that no one should have to spend the rest of their life there. It was heartbreaking to witness people waiting for death with no hope at all. It resembles a factory of human suffering, despair, and hopelessness. It seems less like care and more like punishment. I find myself thinking of it as a place of death. That is the term Mama uses.

"Clara I can appreciate your reluctance to include your father, but how will you cope when your mother becomes so incapacitated that she is unable to care for herself, let alone your father? Jonny, a kind friend with a lot of empathy, spoke softly.

Clara said glumly, "I do not know," with her shoulders more hunched than before and her elbows balanced on her desk while she held her head in her hands. As she considered the weight of the burden she must carry, tears tightened her throat, choking her. "I simply do not know." I can only take things one day at a time at the moment. The future appears to be bleak. My mom's relief that I agreed that Dad should stay at home with us is the only thing that makes me happy. But I am always worried about her. What if she hurt herself after falling and no one was around to assist her?

Jonny pitied his companion. On the weekends or after school, many of the teachers went out to party and have a good time. They dressed up and bought new clothes, met men, went on dates, and went to the beach or to eat dinner. Clara only occasionally accompanied them when Jonny insisted, but she hardly ever had any fun-aside from the evening she met the unidentified man named Nelson. Jonny felt sorry for Clara because of the burdensome duties she had to handle.

"What about your sister Vera? Is she unable to assist?" Knowing that Vera would never do what Clara was doing, Jonny asked. Vera wanted to marry an executive and worked as an executive secretary for a large company. She was driven solely to serve herself.

Clara gave a head shake. "Vera's fabric was different from mine. I spoke with her, but she refused to assist.

I wish Jonny had not sounded so depressing when he said, "Clara, I do not know how you are ever going to manage." The growing responsibility, however, appeared incomprehensible. Along with cooking three meals a day for her parents and taking time off work to take them to the doctor, Clara also had to grade papers, attend meetings, attend workshops, attend parent conferences, and more. She kept her lunches in the refrigerator so her mother could reheat them in the microwave. The mere thought of it was enough to wear anyone out.

Clara's eyes were filled with tears. "I am not sure either."

A delivery man arrived and set a vase of two dozen exquisite red roses on her desk as the door opened.

"My goodness, they are stunning!" With a shout, Jonny picked up the card and gave it to Jeannie.

The blue doe eyes of Clara widened. She grabbed the card from its envelope.

"To a gorgeous lady. "Nelson William," she said out loud. Her face was full of surprise. How could he have known where I was? I kept my school's name a secret from him.

Jonny laughed, "Well, all I can say is he was curious enough to find you and send you two dozen roses to boot."

With a sigh, Clara turned to face Jonny, her large doe eyes growing sad. Does it really make a difference? I do not have any more time for him.

Jonny gave her a pat in return. "You will find a way," he said, offering hope even when it did not seem possible.