A white-hot spark filled the cafe for just a moment. Liz felt the heat of the lightning strike… if that was what it was… but only on her face and one arm because Michael turned her so that he could shield her with his body. Thunder rolled and echoed inside the cafe.

The explosion of light left dark shadows floating in Liz's vision. She barely made out the regular customers and tourists hiding at the rear of the cafe and under the tables.

"Are you all right?" Michael asked.

"Yeah," Liz said. "I think so." Her ears hurt, and a headache had formed behind her eyes. She extricated herself from Michaels protective grip.

Leroy Wilkins lay sprawled on the ground. A dark crimson blush stained his features, spreading out along on his hands and arms as well.

Michael retreated from Liz and knelt on the floor by the old prospector. Michael started to reach for Wilkins's wrist like he was going to check the man's pulse. While he was doing that, several of the cafe's patrons made a quick exit through the door.

Without warning, Wilkins reached up and grabbed Michael's shirt. Startled, obviously a little freaked out by the experience, Michael jerked back and slapped the old man's hands away.

Wilkins gasped and fell back. His mouth worked hard, opening and shutting like a fish out of water. Then he began to shake and shiver the whole length of his body.

"What's wrong with him?" Liz asked, standing behind Michael.

"It went into him," Michael answered.

"What went into him?"

Michael didn't answer.

"You saw it? Liz asked.

Michael hesitated, then he nodded.

For a moment Liz was halfway expecting something to burst out of Wilkins. If something had gone into the old man, maybe now it wanted out. Before she knew she was moving, she stepped back as Michael continued to watch the old man's body jerk and writhe.

"Somebody call nine-one-one!" a man yelled. "Can't you see he's having a heart attack?"

"You know, if I didn't know we were hiding out from your parents, I'd think you were ashamed to be seen in public with me."

A twinge of apprehension rocketed through Isabel Evans, but the feeling was anchored by guilt. She'd never hidden anything from her parents. Well, except for the development of the powers that came with her alien genetics. But now she was hiding possibly the biggest secret she'd had in her life. Not even Max knew. That was pretty bizarre, because she'd never hidden anything from Max, and he'd never been able to hide anything from her since they were kids. But since Tess had left with the baby, Max had had his hands full with his own problems.

And the guy sitting across from her had been totally unexpected, and had so totally knocked her off her feet. She glanced at Jesse Esteban Ramirez seated across the public picnic table. "I'm not ashamed."

Jesse was tall and dark, and extremely handsome. He wore slacks and a dress shirt. His tie was back in his car. Leaning back on the concrete bench, Jesse waved his half-eaten sub sandwich at the desolate surroundings. "The picnic was a good idea."

"I'm glad you think so," Isabel replied. "But?…"

Jesse took another bite of his sandwich. His white teeth flashed. "Why do you think there has to be a 'but? Suspicious mind?"

"On the contrary," Isabel said. "The question came from a trained and orderly mind."

Jesse blotted his mouth with a paper napkin. "There are no 'buts.'"

"I beg to differ. There was a telling absence."

One of Jesse's eyebrows rose in perplexion, arching over a dark, deep orb. Isabel had discovered his gaze to be magnetic, a well that she could gaze into and always find something new and different.

"An absence?" Jesse asked.

"Oh yes."

"And what would this alleged absence be?" Jesse plucked a grape from the bunch Isabel had packed in the picnic basket.

"A decent segue," Isabel told him.

Jesse munched on the grape and appeared to give her accusation his full attention. "Between you possibly being ashamed of me and the fact that the picnic was a good idea?"

"Between your halfhearted attempt to assign guilt for our circumstances and rudimentary effort at changing the subject."

Jesse waved at the empty space around them. When he spoke, his voice was serious. "The picnic is a great idea, Isabel… don't get me wrong. And the food is fantastic. I didn't know you could cook so well."

"It's just sandwiches, potato salad, fruit, and macaroni and cheese," Isabel protested. "Not exactly a true culinary feat. Or even a balanced meal." She felt bad about that, but she'd been in a rush and hadn't had time to run to the store for other items. Brown bagging for one didn't attract too much attention at home, but packing food for two in a rather nifty-looking picnic basket… if she had to say so herself… was a definite giveaway.

"I know, but with you making the meals for these lunches, I don't feel like I'm doing my part."

"What part would that be?"

"The taking-you-out-to-dinner-for-a-good-meal-in-Roswell part," Jesse said.

Smiling, Isabel touched the single red plastic rose in the glass vase between them on the table. The blossom clashed with the red-and-white checked tablecloth she'd brought, but she didn't mind too much. "You brought the flower."

Jesse nodded. "Yeah. But since it's made out of plastic, and this is broad daylight and not a romantic evening, it doesn't have quite the effect I'd hoped for."

"Oh," Isabel reassured him, "that rose had plenty of effect." For just an instant she couldn't believe she'd said that. It was out of character for the Isabel Evans she'd believed she'd grown up to be. But that was before she'd learned all the truths about her own parentage.

And it was before she'd lost Alex… before Tess had killed the guy who could have been her first true love.

"Being out here with you is great," Jesse went on.

"That's a decent save," Isabel said.

"But it's not the same as being able to take you around our city and let people know we're together."

"We can't do that," Isabel said, and the thought turned her cold inside. Her parents had been dealt enough mysteries and changes lately, and one more… especially this one… would have been too much.

"I know," Jesse said. "I'm just frustrated."

"Why?"

Jesse plucked another grape and rolled the fruit between his fingers. "Because I'm afraid we're going to get stuck here."

"What do you mean?"

For a moment Jesse didn't look like he was going to continue. He let out a long breath. "You and me. Stuck. As in, can't go any farther than this."

Isabel leaned back on the hard stone picnic bench. In truth, the rest stop off U.S. 285 between Roswell and Santa Fe wasn't very romantic. After seeing the area a number of times while growing up there, the area could hardly even be called picturesque anymore.

"What are you trying to say?" Isabel asked. She felt her heart thudding inside her chest. Jesse was nearly ten years older than she was. If she'd told her high school friends, they'd have been scandalized even though several of them had crushes on the young male teachers from time to time. In fact, she'd been content to leave the whole dating thing alone because she'd known she was different. Then Max had fallen head over heels for Liz, and Michael started crushing on Maria, and… and Alex had been there for her when everyone else seemed to be going away.

Unexpectedly, memory burned at the backs of Isabel's eyes. She put the remnant of her sandwich down and concentrated on keeping her emotions under control. She looked away from Jesse, trying to find something, anything, to focus on. A silver sparkle in the distance behind Jesse caught her attention for just an instant but disappeared just as quickly.

"I'm sorry," Jesse said in a softer voice.

Isabel, centered once more in what Michael sometimes called her Ice Princess mode, looked back at Jesse. "There's no need to be sorry."