He had given Johnny his gifts before he left, but it certainly would be a lonely Christmas for them both. Nothing was the same this year. And now he was nearly three thousand miles away on the West Coast, walking down some strange woman's hall into a living room filled with uniforms and women in cocktail clothes as waiters passed trays of champagne. It was all a bit like a strange dream as he looked out at the Golden Gate, and then as his eyes strayed back he saw her there, standing quietly in a corner, holding a glass, speaking to a woman in a dark-red dress. And as he looked at her she turned her head, and their eyes met, as time stopped for him and the room spun for her. And slowly he walked toward her and she heard the voice she had remembered only in dreams for a year and a half. The voice was a caress and the crowds around them seemed to disappear as he spoke a single word. “Liane …” She looked up at him, her eyes filled with disbelief and amazement as he smiled slowly at her.





“I'm not sure.”