“You lied to her-we lied to her-from the beginning,” the other Kirk continued. “But then, we lied to ourselves too.”

A deep sense of shame threatened to overwhelm Kirk because he knew that his counterpart was right. He had lied to Antonia, even when she had pleaded with him for honesty. No matter what he did here in the nexus, he would not be able to alter the reality of what had really happened between them.

And although he didn’t want to, he couldn’t help remembering the day that he’d first begun to betray her.

Outside, snow dusted the Idaho hills. Kirk stood at the window in his living room, holding open the curtain with one hand as he gazed into the night. He squinted out at the darkness, unable to see past the reflections in the glass. Cupping his free hand over his eyes, he leaned in to the windowpane, which felt cold to the touch. His vision now shielded from the indoor lighting, he saw snowflakes still drifting lazily down from the autumnal sky, as though the heavens had chosen to sprinkle the stars down upon the Earth.

He heard footsteps behind him and knew that Antonia had returned from her self-appointed task in the kitchen. “Here we go,” she said as she came up behind him. He turned to see her holding two ceramic mugs, steam curling up from each. “My famous hot-buttered rum to go with the first snow of the season.”

Kirk accepted the mug Antonia offered and sipped at the concoction within. The sweet scent of the drink gave way to a taste that seemed almost like apple pie, though with a kick he hadn’t expected. He pursed his lips at the strong flavor of the rum. “You make drinks like a ship’s chief medical officer,” he said.

Antonia offered him a quizzical look. “All right,” she said. “I’m not exactly sure what that’s supposed to mean, so I’ll just choose to take it as a compliment.”

“It means that some doctors love to kill the pain, no matter how much alcohol it takes,” Kirk joked. “My CMO on the Enterprise- “

“Bones?” Antonia said.

“Right,” Kirk said. “He made a drink called a Finagle’s Folly that he claimed was known all the way to Orion.” He sipped again at the rum. “Somehow I think they probably know Salvatori’s Hot-buttered Rum there too.”

Antonia smiled at him, but quickly and thinly, as though filling a moment she didn’t particularly enjoy. It surprised him, but he decided not to address it. Perhaps he’d mischaracterized her expression, and if he hadn’t, if something troubled Antonia, he doubted that it had anything to do with him or their relationship, which seemed to be unfolding very well. If something weighed on her mind, though, she would tell him only when she felt ready to do so. If he’d learned one thing about her during the months that they’d been seeing each other, it had been that she couldn’t be pressured into doing anything she didn’t herself elect to do, even simply talking.

Antonia moved away from the window and over to the sofa. She wore long dark slacks that flattered her athletic figure, and a red and blue sweater that reflected the onset of the wintry weather. She sat down on the sofa and peered at the crackling fire in the hearth.

Kirk went over and settled in beside her in the cozy setting. She put down her mug on the end table, then wrapped her hands around his arm and leaned in against him. They sat that way for a while, quietly, comfortably-an apt description for all the time they had spent together in the spring and summer and now into the fall.

After their initial meeting, Kirk had tracked her down through her veterinary practice to the nearby small town of-appropriately enough, given her profession-Antelope Brook. He’d made no pretext about visiting her office because his horses needed her care, but had instead simply gone there and asked her out, his impression being that Antonia would appreciate a forthright approach. She had, and they’d begun seeing each other once or twice a week, a frequency that had increased with time.

They had spent many days together riding through the Idaho hills, occasionally taking in a film in town or heading into one of the bigger cities for dinner or a concert or a sporting event. Mostly, though, Antonia liked staying home, playing games or reading or making love. Their physical relationship had actually taken some time to progress, but once it had, they enjoyed each other fully. Kirk found her energetic and playful, both in bed and out. Though she took some things very seriously-such as her practice and the general good care of animals-Antonia for the most part maintained an air of lightness about her.

As Kirk drank his rum with Antonia by his side, his gaze came to rest on the mantelpiece, atop which he had placed three handcrafted models of old sailing vessels. Several other antique pieces dressed the shelves he’d built on either side of the fireplace, including a clock that his uncle had left to him, a sextant, an orrery. On the very day he’d met Antonia, he’d vowed to himself that he would start living his life again, that he would do his best to forge past the memories of sadness and loss that for so long had held him back. With the personal adornments he’d added to the house and with his new romance, he felt that he had in large part succeeded in those efforts. He had even lately thought about taking the next step with Antonia.

Kirk finished his rum, then reached past Antonia to set his mug down next to hers on the end table. Once he had, he didn’t lean back on the sofa, but remained leaning over her. Peering into her dark brown eyes, he said, “Doctor Salvatori, what would you think about moving in here?”

Antonia wrinkled her brow. “Is that a hypothetical question,” she said, “or are you really asking me to move in with you?” She had a penchant for reacting to certain situations in a deliberately obtuse manner, but Kirk had learned to bully his way through such tactics.

“I’m asking,” he said. He bent forward and kissed her lightly on the lips. “We’ve been seeing each other for months now and things seem to be going well between us.”

“Oh, you think so?” Antonia said, without any inflection to indicate a blithe spirit behind her remark.

“Yes, I do,” Kirk said, refusing to be denied.

“Well…yes,” Antonia finally agreed, but she appeared less than pleased by the admission. Abruptly she pushed past Kirk, stood up, and walked toward the corner of the room. “It’s been wonderful,” she said, facing him, but when she continued, she looked down at her hands, which she nervously twisted together. “It’s just that I’m not so sure that we have a future together.”

“What?” Kirk said, unprepared for Antonia’s assessment. He rose from the sofa but did not try to approach her, instead gazing at her across the room. “I…I thought we were growing closer,” he said. “I thought we had a good thing going and that we were moving forward together.” It had been some time since he’d been seriously involved with a woman, but it shocked him that he could have been so mistaken in his evaluation of their relationship. With Edith it had been so easy-Kirk cut himself off in midthought, wanting to prevent himself from comparing Antonia to Edith. Besides being unfair to Antonia, it also did him no good. Edith was gone, and she always would be.

Across the room, Antonia raised her eyes and looked at him. “We have grown closer,” she said. “We do have a good thing going. I really enjoy your company and we always have a fine time with each other, but…I’m just not sure that we’re moving forward together.”

Kirk looked away from Antonia and over at the logs burning in the fireplace. He didn’t know what to say or think, and he told her so. “I’m shocked,” he said, “but I guess maybe that just illustrates how badly I misjudged our relationship.”

“No, no, you didn’t,” Antonia said. “But…tell me, what were you looking at through the window before?”

“What?” Kirk said, completely nonplussed by the question. “I was just looking to see if it was still snowing.” The more he considered what she’d asked, the less sense it made to him. “Why?” he said. “Is there something else you thought I was looking at?”