He sat up straight, staring right into my eyes, smiling. I didn't see anything to smile about.

"Maggie, let's get a few things straight, okay?" I sat still. I was about to be on the receiving end of a lecture; I could feel it in his tone. I tried not to look at him with Sheila's impatient adolescent face. I hated lectures as much as she did.

"You aren't that much older than me. Lord, yes, you are damned attractive, but I don't prey upon women in trouble. I don't have to." Yeah, I thought, you've got Evelyn, and I felt foolish, but also more comfortable.

"Now, here's the deal," he said. "This couch is old. It's rump-sprung. You can sleep here if you want to, but I've tried it before and you wouldn't get any rest. I'm going to sleep in my waterbed, like I always do, and I'm suggesting you do the same."

I knew it! The alarm bells went off again. I stretched my hand along the cushion and wiggled a little bit, testing his statement. It was uncomfortable, but I still didn't think it was right to just crawl into bed with a man I hardly knew, New Age or not.

"It's a queen-sized bed," he said, taking another swig from his beer. "I sleep on my left side and I don't snore. And Maggie," he said, reaching over and covering my hand with his, "I won't touch you. Not on purpose, that is." He was laughing and looking at me. I felt foolish. "Keep all your clothes on if you need to. I won't, but you can. All I ask is that you take off those pointy-toed cowgirl boots. I'll even lend you a T-shirt."

I took a huge swig of beer. In fact, I about guzzled the whole thing, and then I looked him right straight back in the eye.

"You'd better not be telling anything but the God's honest truth," I said.

He held up his fingers in the Boy Scout salute.

"On my honor, I will try to do my duty…"

"Trying ain't good enough, Jack."

"Don't worry, I promise." He finished his beer and stood up. "Now, you are tired, aren't you?"

Truth was, I was so tired I was seeing and hearing things. I nodded and followed him up the winding stairs to the loft.

He lent me a T-shirt, long enough on me to come to mid-thigh, and a toothbrush. It was strange and awkward, figuring out who went first in the tiny bathroom and dressing and undressing in there, using his faded towels, smelling the patchouli oil and other scents that filled his space.

When I emerged from the bathroom, the bedroom was in almost total darkness, except for the skylight over the bed and one small candle by his bedside.

"You get the right side," he said in the darkness.

Clumsily I half fell into the waterbed, rolling up against him before I could stop myself.

"Oh my God!" I gasped, as my skin brushed up against his. He was totally-and I do mean totally-naked!

"Jack, you're… you're…"

"Well, I told you I was taking my clothes off."

"Yes, but I thought you meant you were changing into pajamas."

"Never wear 'em," he said calmly. Then he rolled slightly away from me. "That better?" He chuckled. "You are so uptight!"

"I am not!" I was edging, the best way I could, over to the wooden rail and as far away from his hot skin as I could move.

"Maggie, the human body is just a trapping for the soul. The world makes way too much of it."

I did not think I was doing any such thing.

"Maggie, it's just skin and parts. Take a deep breath and relax."

"You know, Jack," I said, fuming, "I've about had it with meditating reality away. If I breathe deeply, I will still know that I am lying in bed with a naked man!"

He chuckled a sleepier chuckle. "It's all relative, Maggie."

"What would Evelyn say about all this?"

There was a deep, prolonged sigh from the other side of the bed. "I'm sure, in her way, Evelyn knows all about it." He shifted a little in the bed, pulling the quilt a little farther up on his shoulders. The moonlight drifted through the skylight and touched his shoulders and made his blond hair seem to glow. "Go to sleep, Maggie," he murmured. "You are new to the world in many ways."

I lay there, listening, my body rigidly clinging to the far side of the bed. Slowly his breathing deepened. He was actually asleep. I stayed vigilant, thinking maybe it was all some kind of weird meditative state, but soon he began to snore gently. I clung to my edge of the bed for as long as I could, but eventually I fell asleep.

At some point in the night, I woke up suddenly to find my head nestled up against his shoulder and one of his hands resting on my arm. I was barely awake, and didn't move, because for that one moment I felt safe again.

Jack was gone again when I awoke. I don't know how he did it. I usually sleep light. Motherhood does that to you. Any sound in my house and I'd have been up and investigating. Vernell used to swear that if Sheila so much as turned over, I'd be down the hall, in her room, and checking her breathing. But for some reason, when Jack woke up and left, I'd slept through it.

I wandered downstairs, looking for coffee, and found the carafe waiting for me with a note attached.

"Evelyn waited around to meet you, but you were sleeping too hard. I'll be back later this afternoon: May need a ride to work. Hope you slept well. Jack."

I reached for a cracked mug and poured steaming hot coffee into it. A Starbucks bag lay empty on the counter. Mocha Java. I'd have to run by the Barnes and Noble at Friendly Center and pick some up for him. I wandered across the plywood floor, spotting a CD player. Music. That's what the morning called for, music.

I was not surprised to find that Jack had strange taste in music. He had a mishmash of artists I'd never heard of, along with some that I could recognize. At least he had Emmy Lou Harris. That fact redeemed him somewhat in my eyes. But I settled for a Jesse Winchester oldie. "Brand New Tennessee Waltz" floated out into the room.

I whirled around, singing softly and sipping coffee. I drifted up the stairs with my second cup of coffee and took a shower. The shower was one area where Jack seemed to have spared no expense. I stood in the stall and let two showerheads cover me in a warm spray. It was wonderful. Even his soap smelled good, like leather and spices.

By the time I'd dressed and let my hair fall around my shoulders in damp ringlets, I had a plan. A visit to Miss Sheila and then Vernell. One of those two, if not both, knew something they hadn't told me. I thought of the dark circles under Sheila's eyes when she'd come to the Curley-Que. A mama knows when something's wrong, and in hindsight, I could see there was more to Sheila's anxiety than worry about me.

I sat on the edge of the one clothing-draped chair in Jack's room and pulled on my boots. Sheila'd probably be at her after-school job at the bagel shop by now. Vernell would be at the satellite dish shop or at the mobile home lot, supervising the crew. That is, if he wasn't at the funeral home.

I ran down the stairs, added more coffee to my mug, and pushed the garage door button. Slowly the door began to edge upward, revealing a pair of new lizard-skin Tony Lama boots. I sighed. This was not going to be my day after all.

The garage door slid further up, revealing Marshall Weathers in all his glory.

"Sleep well?" he asked. He was smiling, but he didn't mean it. I could tell by the cold glint in his eyes. "Your boyfriend left about an hour ago. You didn't feel like breakfast?" There was a hard edge to his voice. Despite myself, my body started to respond.

"He's not my boyfriend," I said, my voice squeaking a little and making me sound like a guilty teenager.

"Well, I don't know what else to call him," he said. "The boy brought you home to his place. All the lights went off a half an hour later, just that little bit of candlelight coming from the bedroom. What else would you call him? I suppose you slept in separate rooms?"