Two nights ago, at dinner, in the center of the table, one of those large, waxy-petaled flowers floated in a shallow green bowl. She said she plucked it from a tree in the neighborhood, but though I've gone on a few long walks in search of it, I've not yet found that tree.

I asked her to show me the trick with the flower. As it turns out, she showed it to Tim back in Roseland. But she says it is not merely a trick, and the time for her to show it to me will come when I know the real name for it. Go figure.

Our friend Blossom, from Magic Beach, who calls herself the Happy Monster, phoned to say she will join us in another week. She was gravely disfigured as a child, when her drunken father set her on fire. Why so often childen, and why so often their parents? I guess it's just the nature of this long, long war. Anyway, I can't wait to see Blossom, for she is beautiful in her disfigurement.

Yesterday, shortly after Tim took his morning shower, he was overcome by the feeling that he was still dirty. He showered again, and then a third time. After that I found him washing his hands incessantly at the kitchen sink, and weeping.

He did not know why he felt this way, but I knew it was the years at Roseland that he had not yet forgotten as thoroughly as he needed to forget them.

Even Annamaria could not soothe him, so I took him to the front porch, just us guys, with a Mr. Goodbar for each of us. As we watched the shorebirds kiting in the sky, I told him about the best part of a Mr. Goodbar.

The best part of a Mr. Goodbar is not the wrapper, is it? No, and the best part of a Coke is not the can. On those nights when you lie awake, either man or boy, wondering about yourself, peeling away one layer of oddness after another, you should remember and always be grateful that the woefully imperfect person that you are, with all your contradictions and unworthy desires, is not the best of you, any more than the wrapper is the best part of a Mr. Goodbar.

Tim said he didn't understand me any more than I understand Annamaria, but he felt better. That's all that matters, really: that we can make each other feel better.

For a while I did not feel at all good about how I had turned away Mr. Hitchcock in that glen in Roseland. I worried that he wouldn't return to seek my help.

This morning, however, as I sat on the front porch drinking coffee, he strolled by on the beach in a three-piece suit and black wingtips. He waved at me and kept walking, but I suspect that any day now, when I come out for coffee on the porch, he'll be there.

It's a little daunting to consider what the director of Psycho might wish to convey to me. But then he was also the director of North by Northwest and other films that were as funny as they were suspenseful. And he made some great love stories. I'm a sucker for love stories, as you probably know by now.

And so I wait for the bell to ring in the night. I dream of Stormy, I walk in search of Annamaria's mysterious tree, I go down to the sea to swim in the shallows with Tim, and I wait for the bell to ring.

To Jeff Zaleski, with gratitude for his insight and integrity.

By Dean Koontz.

77 Shadow Street * What the Night Knows * Breathless * Relentless * Your Heart Belongs to Me * The Darkest Evening of the Year * The Good Guy * The Husband * Velocity * Life Expectancy * The Taking * The Face * By the Light of the Moon * One Door Away From Heaven * From the Corner of His Eye * False Memory * Seize the Night * Fear Nothing * Mr. Murder * Dragon Tears * Hideaway * Cold Fire * The Bad Place * Midnight * Lightning * Watchers * Strangers * Twilight Eyes * Darkfall * Phantoms * Whispers * The Mask * The Vision * The Face of Fear * Night Chills * Shattered * The Voice of the Night * The Servants of Twilight * The House of Thunder * The Key to Midnight * The Eyes of Darkness * Shadowfires * Winter Moon * The Door to December * Dark Rivers of the Heart * Icebound * Strange Highways * Intensity * Sole Survivor * Ticktock * The Funhouse * Demon Seed.

ODD THOMAS.

Odd Thomas * Forever Odd * Brother Odd * Odd Hours * Odd Apocalypse.

FRANKENSTEIN.

Prodigal Son * City of Night * Dead and Alive * Lost Souls * The Dead Town.

A Big Little Life: A Memoir of a Joyful Dog Named Trixie.

About the Author.

DEAN KOONTZ, the author of many #1 New York Times bestsellers, lives in Southern California with his wife, Gerda, their golden retriever, Anna, and the enduring spirit of their golden, Trixie.

www.deankoontz.com.

Correspondence for the author should be addressed to:.

Dean Koontz.

P.O. Box 9529.

Newport Beach, California 92658.

Odd Thomas's journey continues in ...

Deeply Odd.

by #1 New York Times bestselling author.

DEAN KOONTZ.

end.