"Of course! Not the least bit conventional, though. I'd like to read something of yours, if you wouldn't mind."

Sarah grinned. "I'd be happy to have your opinion," she said rather formally.

Harper looked out across the water, watching the sea gulls.

"Have you heard of Boudica?" she asked. "The ancient warrior queen of old England?"

"Warrior queen?" asked Sarah, obviously intrigued. "Like Xena?"

"Well, yes, but a real person. Come to think of it, she appeared on Xena in a few episodes. You might enjoy reading about her since you write epics. She led an army against the Romans in the first century A.D. She became a legend. There's a statue of her in London."

"Have you seen it?"

"Yes. We can look it up on the Internet this evening if you want. Also, there are poems about her and novels and movies too, if you're interested."

"I'm very interested," Sarah assured her.

"I thought you might be. You might also be interested in another ancient heroine of Ireland. Her name was Maeve. She was a queen who could run faster than a horse. She had a dozen husbands and innumerable lovers, most of them kings, and she carried birds and animals on her shoulders."

"Oh, my God!"

"Yes, your monkey Cleo reminded me of her. She's also the subject of an epic poem, The Cattle Raid of Cooley, which I can send you to read."

"You really do know everything, don't you, Aunt Harper?"

"No, Sarah, but I've been practically living in a library for a long time now. I couldn't help but have picked up a few things."

"Well, neither of my parents even has the slightest idea what an epic poem is."

"No, your father was never much for the humanities. He's a math and science guy, like your grandfather. And your mother, I hear, was the same way."

"I wrote a poem about Persephone the other day. Neither one of them even knew who she was. I was just like, what? Are you serious?"

Harper smiled.

"You know who she is, right?" Sarah asked.

"Yes." The challenge on Sarah's face prompted Harper to tell the tale. "Persephone was the beloved daughter of Demeter, goddess of grain and crops and the cycles of the Earth. Hades abducted her and made her his queen. Demeter was so distraught that the Earth quit turning and life came to a standstill. In the end, Persephone was allowed to return to Earth for a season each year, reunited with her mother, prompting a period of flourishing abundance."

"Spring."

"Yes, spring. And when Persephone returned to the underworld each year, the earth was plunged into a period of cold barrenness."

"Winter." Sarah smiled, delighted. "I knew you knew it."

Harper nodded.

"I love that story," Sarah said.

"It's a good one," Harper agreed. "It reminds me of a book I had as a child, a book about the Greek myths. It had all these fabulous illustrations in it. Actually, I think that book is still here in the house. If we can find it, I'd like you to have it."

"Thank you!"

Harper was enjoying the role of mentor. She didn't think she'd ever been one before. The closest she came was helping students in the library. This felt different, probably because Sarah was younger and more eager.

"Sarah," she said, suddenly struck with an idea, "I don't know what your parents would think of it, but there's no reason you can't come to visit me in California. You're old enough to travel alone, as long as I meet you at the airport. We could have a lot of fun. We could go to San Francisco, anywhere you want, and Santa Cruz and Monterey. We could go to the theater." Harper said this last word with an upper-class British accent while throwing her hand above her head with flair. "What about spring break?

You get a week off then, right? I do too."

Sarah looked at her as if she were some kind of supreme being. The next thing Harper knew, she was running toward the house screaming for her mother. Harper stayed where she was, 0.

watching the sun set, smiling distractedly. She hoped Neil and Kathy would give their permission. It would be fun taking Sarah around to see the sights for a week or so. She was so hungry for knowledge and experience.

Harper watched a lone rowboat glide silently across the water toward its dock. Her thoughts turned to Chelsea as she imagined Sarah's spring visit. She was sure that Chelsea would enjoy it just as much as she expected to. Sarah was so open and enthusiastic. It would be a joy for the three of them to ride a roller coaster in Santa Cruz and a cable car in San Francisco.

Maybe they could drive up to Mendocino too where Chelsea's brother had a summer home. Sarah would think the drive up the coast highway was awesome. Didn't everyone?

A flood of possibilities came to mind as Harper imagined the three of them sightseeing. The list of places she thought of mingled with the list she already had in her mind for just Chelsea and herself. There hadn't been time to do any of these things yet, and she wanted to do everything with Chelsea. Even ride a cable car! They had both done that, of course, but they had never done it together.

She took her cell phone out of its case and called Chelsea's number. She answered on the second ring. "Oh, Harper, I was just thinking about you."

Harper lay back on the wooden planks of the dock and pressed the phone closer to her ear.

"Miss you," she said, staring up into a pale blue sky.

"Me too. Tell me about your day."

Chapter 18.

JUNE 23.

Andrew held Harper's guitar uneasily. She reached around the chair he was sitting in, placing his fingers on the strings and showing him how to use the pick. Then she had him play a chord and change his fingers, then play another, until he understood how the different sounds were made.

Wilona watched them from her rocking chair across the room.

They were taking a break from working on the documentary, a task that was proceeding smoothly. Having made four already, Harper knew what to do, how to put together the story. With Wilona's expertise, the film editing was going much more quickly than Harper ever could have done on her own.

So, after playing a couple of songs on her guitar to entertain them, Harper had asked Andrew if he would like to try it. He had responded eagerly. His face lit up each time he touched the strings and made music. This is what Roxie does for a living, every day, thought Harper. It seemed like rewarding work, though she knew that Roxie's students were not all nearly as cooperative as Andrew.

"That's wonderful," Harper told him. "You're a natural-born musician!"

They continued the lesson until Andrew had learned the C, G and F chords. After an hour, Wilona suggested that it was time for him to get ready for bed. To Harper's surprise, he agreed.

"My fingers have had enough for today," he said, returning the guitar carefully to Harper before leaving the room.

"Thank you for that, Harper," Wilona said.

"Oh, you don't need to thank me. It was fun. I've never tried to teach anyone to play before. Of course, he's an eager student.

Makes it easy. When I first took piano lessons as a child, I was a terror. My poor music teacher..." Harper laughed, remembering what a petulant student she had been. "You were right, he's a joyful child."

"That's enough to teach us all a lesson, isn't it?"

Harper nodded.

"I think I'll go to bed too," Wilona said, pulling herself up from her chair. "I'll see you in the morning, Harper, and we can finish up that film work."

Once the rest of the household was quiet, Harper went to her room and phoned Chelsea again. There was no answer. In fact, the phone went to voice mail after only one ring, indicating that it was turned off. Harper hung up, then, after a few minutes, called again. This time she left a message. "Chelsea," she said, "this is Harper. I got your message. I'd like to talk to you too.

Call me back on my cell. I'm not home right now."

Harper placed her phone on the bedside table, then read a book for a half hour, occasionally glancing at the phone, as if doing so might encourage Chelsea to return her call. Finally, tired and discouraged, she turned off the lamp. She lay in the dark with a window open to a warm, still night gloriously filled with stars, one of the tremendous benefits of being away from the city. A faint odor of pine came in periodically on the breeze.

Starry skies like this reminded Harper of nights lying in a sleeping bag beside a mountain lake, one of those inspirational experiences that makes you feel so alive and so in tune with nature.

Whenever Harper contemplated a sky like this, deep in the night, she heard music-sonorous, profoundly resonating harmonies synchronized with the orbit and rotation of celestial bodies, united like the instruments of an orchestra under the direction of a grand maestro.

Harper and Chelsea had never gone camping. They'd never gone fishing or snorkeling, never gone to a museum or even to a movie together. Everything had happened too fast. Their weeks together were frozen in time at the first flush of love, suspended at the core of transcendent zeal, before it had a chance to lose any of its luster. In that respect, it was perfect, an untainted grand passion.

If Harper were an artist, she would have wrestled that summer into a painting or a novel or a song. An artist had that power, to transform the too-intense sting of life into an object of beauty.

What sort of poem had Chelsea written, she wondered, to lessen the ache of that wound?

For Chelsea had been hurt too. Harper had been wrong about a lot of things, but not about that, surely. Chelsea's tears that day, the day she said goodbye, they were genuine. After all of her second-guessing of Chelsea's intentions, she was back to believing again. Harper knew that her gut could always be trusted, and her gut told her that the bond between them had been real.

It was nearly midnight. She tried not to draw any conclusions about why Chelsea wasn't returning her call. She'll call tomorrow, she reassured herself, drifting into a fitful sleep.

Chapter 19.

JUNE 24.

But Chelsea did not call, and Harper had to conclude that she wasn't going to. After all, it had now been two weeks since her original message. Who knew what had prompted the call in the first place? Maybe it had been a momentary lapse of judgment.

Perhaps the summer heat had had the same effect on her as it had been having on Harper, reviving in them both a driving need for one another. If so, Chelsea had clearly managed to master her desires.

Harper prepared to return home. Her documentary was already taking a semblance of its final shape. The background music, which she would choose on her own, would be added later. She thanked Wilona and said goodbye to Andrew, wishing him luck with his music.

It was nearly three o'clock when she pulled into her driveway.

The first thing she did when she got inside the house was to pick up the phone to see if there was voice mail. There was. Had Chelsea called here instead of her cell phone? No, it was her mother, reporting that Sarah was still missing and the police were doing nothing at all about it.

Harper guiltily realized that she had completely forgotten about the family emergency while she'd been away. Shit! she thought. How could I have forgotten that?

She needed to call them, but first... She switched on the air conditioner to relieve the stuffiness in the house and went to the kitchen to get a soda. She stiffened at the sight of a note taped on the refrigerator door. The note was written in a script she didn't recognize. Someone had been in her house while she was gone.

Nobody had a key, except... No, Chelsea had given hers back.

Then she saw that the note was addressed to "Aunt Harper."

Sarah? It had to be. She flipped the paper over to check the signature. It was! She read the note quickly.

Aunt Harper, Surprise! I came for a visit. Arrived here Monday afternoon and hung around waiting for you, but after a while, I let myself in. You should get a better lock on your bedroom window. Don't worry. I didn't break it.

I helped myself to your food and stuff and hung out until this afternoon (Tuesday). I hope you don't mind. Since you didn't come home last night and I have no idea where you are or when you'll be back, I think I'll take off. Nothing to do here. Can't even surf the Web because of the password on your computer. Don't know your cell number either.

Should have gotten that before I left. Stupid, I know.

Sorry, I don't have a phone. Dad took it away months ago. I'll find a way to call, though, in a couple of days to see if you're back. For now, I want to see the sights. I'm going to Disneyland!

P.S. I saw the pictures of Chelsea in your guest room. I heard Mom and Dad talking about her once, a while back, about how she's your girlfriend. She's really sublime.

Sarah The word "sublime" was underlined emphatically.

Harper stared at the note in her hand for a moment, letting this information sink in. Sarah had been here Monday and then left on Tuesday to go to Disneyland? Today was Thursday.

Harper's head was spinning.

Why did Sarah come here? Harper wondered. And where the hell is she now?

When she had recovered enough to act, she called her brother and gave him the news. Neil was ecstatic at first.

"Oh, thank God she's safe," he said. "So where is she now?"

"Like I said," Harper explained. "I don't know. Her note said she was going to Disneyland."

"Disneyland. Isn't that way down by L.A.?"

"Yes. Nowhere near here. She probably didn't realize that. It would be at least six hours by car."

"So how could she get there? Would she take a bus? Jesus, would she hitchhike?"

Harper didn't know how to answer that.