By this time, several loads had come down the elevator, mostly furniture and other items Dave recognized. Dave's cell phone had gone off two or three times during Eve's story, mostly with minor decisions to be made. The biggest one was the refrigerator; it had been sitting three weeks, most of the time without power. Shae said it smelled pretty bad, and they didn't dare open it for long in fear of stinking everyone out of the apartment. "I'm thinking of letting it sit till the last moment, then throwing it in the dumpster without opening it," she told him. He agreed it sounded like a good idea to him.

In that period, there were several boxes carried down on the carts; most were stacked near where he and Eve were waiting, but some, marked with large 'X's, were carried directly out to the back of the minivan. No one said what it was all about; Dave pretty well figured he knew but didn't want to ask.

Late in the morning, the crew came down to the loading dock, and Dayna and Sandy produced subs, pop and chips from the motor home. From the pile of boxes and the general tone of discussion, it seemed to be going well up there and the end seemed to be in sight. The lunch break didn't last long; by early afternoon, people were drifting back downstairs. "Emily and Shae are giving it one last go-through," John reported. "But it's stripped, except for the reefer. Scott and Aaron are going to deal with it as soon as the women are finished, then that'll be it."

In a few minutes, Emily was back down with the group. "Shae went to turn in the keys," she reported. "I don't expect the truck for another hour at least, so no big deal. It went better than I expected. Dave, some of us would like to hike over to the scene and get a better look, if you don't mind."

"Fine with me," he nodded. "I'm sure you'll understand if I don't want to go with you. And walking is the best idea; I'd imagine the parking is impossible from here on in."

"That's what Shae said," Emily smiled. "She told us how to get to the viewing site. We'll be back in an hour."

As it turned out, everyone went but Eve and John, who stayed with Dave. When Shae got back from turning in the keys, John wordlessly got in the minivan and drove off; again, Dave figured what it was all about.

Everyone was back within the hour, acting pretty subdued; though the scene had to have changed since Dave had seen it; it was still pretty shocking and sobering. Emily got out her cell phone, and after a few minutes reported the truck wasn't far out.

Dave was still expecting something like a U-Haul; he was in no way prepared to see a large semi pull into the lot, the tool-belted beaver logo of General Hardware Retailers on the side. On the door of the huge Kenworth tractor was lettered, Sallows Brothers Trucking, Bradford, Michigan.

Dave just shook his head. "Emily, I said you don't do things halfway, and this proves it."

"No big deal," she said, "Dean knew he was going to be coming back from Boston with a partial load, so we canceled the rental truck when we heard about it."

"A little bootleg, huh?"

"Not hardly," she smiled. "I called Mr. Russell at the plant about it. He said it was all right with him, but he wasn't sure if he could approve it, so I called the Vice-President for Distribution in Denver, and he said it was fine." She smiled and turned to Shae. "Your dad says it'd be nice if you called him some time."

"Shae," Dave shook his head again, "Your dad is . . ."

"Vice-President for Distribution," she smiled ruefully. "He took over when Eve's dad retired. Emily doesn't mess around; she goes right for the throat."

The semi was soon backed up to the loading dock and people were hauling stuff on board when Dave discovered the driver was Dean Sallows, another '88 he hadn't seen since sometime around graduation. He'd thickened up a little and had a huge full beard and a baseball cap with a Dale Earnhardt 3 on it. "Good to see you again, guy," he smiled. "Hate like hell to have to be like this, though."

"Yeah, me too," Dave nodded. "But it's good to see you, and everyone else. I sure never expected any of this."

"No big deal," Dean shrugged, and turned to Eve, who was standing next to Dave. "Hi there, ya little squirt," he smiled. "How ya doin?"

"Just fine, you big lug," she smiled back, and all of a sudden the two were in a hug. That, if nothing else, told Dave just how far they had come since high school -- Dean had been one of the kids who harassed Denis worse than most. Both of them had changed a lot, he thought. There's been some growing up going on.

Many hands made light work of the pile of Dave's stuff on the loading dock, and in a few minutes they were done and had everything loaded and tied down in the truck. "You're welcome to come to dinner, Dean," Emily said.

"Better not," he scratched his head. "This place ain't a hell of a lot better than Boston for needin' forty acres to swing the rig around. I think I better just get on up to 80 and put the pedal to the metal."

"Well, we'll catch you tomorrow in Bradford and make up for it," she smiled. "You take care, Dean, and thanks." In a minute or so, there were a couple blasts on the air horns, and black smoke rolled from the dual stacks as Dean headed out to battle the Manhattan traffic.

"That's the one downside," Emily told Dave. "It means we have to get back pretty quick ourselves, since we'll have to unload your stuff before he can go to the loading dock at the plant. We've got a little time to spare but not much, so we better get a move on."

"Dave," Shae added. "Why don't you ride in the motor home this leg? We're just going back to the apartment and deal with the stuff there."

"All right," he said, realizing there was stuff in the van to go to the Albrights. Shae had promised to take care of it; presumably she or the McClellans would be performing the sad task. "Shae, you and Emily are fantastic; I can't believe you organized it so well, just for me."

"Like everybody's been saying, no big deal," she smiled.

Thus it was that Dave had no chance to look over his shoulder at Battery Park Village and the remnants of the World Trade Center -- he was sitting around the table in the motor home as Aaron, Scott, Sonja, and Kevin renewed a gin rummy game that had apparently gone on much of the way from Bradford. It had been a long time and he had a lousy hand, but all of a sudden, they were back in the Battery-Brooklyn Tunnel, and that part of his life had vanished behind him unnoticeably.

The surprises weren't quite over -- Vicky had cooked a massive spaghetti dinner while they'd been gone, and there were a few cans of beer passed around as people relaxed a little. It wasn't until then Dave learned Vicky's baby daughter Melissa had been born on the morning of September 11; as far as Dave was concerned, that made her something pretty special.

Very soon, things were wrapped up, and Eve, John, and Shae came downstairs to watch the departure. As others were loading the motor home, Shae caught up with Dave, and pulled him to the side. "Come back to me, damn it, will you?" she said in a small voice -- and then, all of a sudden, they were in each other's arms. They had kissed twice before, but those were just good-natured teenager's good night kisses. This was considerably more, and in spite of everything, he meant it just about as much as she did. He was aware of the big woman in his arms, the power, the warmth, the love she had, the ache she was going to feel when he left, and not for the first time, he wondered if he was doing the right thing in leaving her. Finally, they broke, and she repeated, "Come back to me, damn it."

"Shae," he whispered. "I will."

"Are you sure?" she said in a small voice.

"When I had the car Wednesday, I signed the boys up for Boyce Day Academy next fall. I know it's not a real good promise to you, but it really is the best one I dare make right now."

"I understand," she said, and pulled him to her again for another long deep kiss.

It was a minute or more before they broke. "Thank you, Shae," he whispered. "Thank you for everything. See you in a few weeks."

"Not if I see you first," she smiled. "Take care."

It was incredibly hard to start toward the motor home and leave her behind. In spite of the fact that it was still too soon and he knew it, there was a strong temptation to change his mind at the last instant. More and more, this seemed like a mistake -- but he knew it might be a mistake to stay, too.

Finally, he could do little more than turn his back and climb aboard; Dayna directed him to the right seat up front. "I need someone who knows where they're going to ride shotgun with me," Sandy said from behind the wheel. Dayna, we're staying separate till we get up on 80, right?"

"That's the plan," Dayna told her. "Kevin can drive it. I'll stay in back and socialize with the Class of '88 a little."

"Then we might as well get moving," Sandy said, and dropped the Winnebago into gear. A few minutes later, they were crossing the Goethals Bridge into New Jersey, and in spite of everything, the feelings of mistake and doubt were on him even more. He was leaving New York with his tail between his legs, and he knew it. He could lick his wounds in Bradford for a while and see if he could come back. He thought he would; he hoped he would -- but it wouldn't be done until it was done. "I'll be back," he promised himself hopefully as he watched a corner of his adopted city grow smaller in the Winnebago's rear view mirror.

Of all the people in the Winnebago, Dave only knew Sonja less than Sandy, but he sat back and watched her as the musician wheeled the big motor home with confidence. This might be a good time to get to know her a little better, he thought. "You drive this thing like you've done it once or twice before."

"Once or twice," she smiled. "God, when I first met Dayna, I hardly knew how to drive. I mean, I had my license, but my mother was a bad driver and an even worse backseat driver, so I never drove with her around. Dayna fixed it by making me drive that funky old Chevette of hers most of the time while she sat back and played the guitar."

From what little Dave knew of Sandy, she seemed to be a character, at least as much of one as the exuberant Dayna. The two had to be pretty wild together, he thought. "Neat motor home," he said. "I've never been in one this big. I take it from the name you're on the road so much that this is sort of your second home."

"Not quite," she smiled. "We call the place in Bradford 'the house' since we're in this thing more than we're there. This is called Second Home because our first one of these we called Home. We lived in it permanently for years, up till I was married for a while. When Dayna and I got back together we decided we needed a break from the road once in a while."

"You were married?" he asked. "I didn't know that."

"It was only for a few months; I was sick and my mother sort of tricked me into it. Then the fucker beat me up and I left. Vicky helped me get back with Dayna, and we've been together ever since. Anyway, our first Home, we put 285,000 miles on it in nine years, in forty-nine states and nine provinces. It really was home, even though it always was just a little too small and the shower was useless. Finally it got to the point where it needed mechanical work from the radiator on back. It was just about the time Ashley Montague decided to buy our house for us; we had a few bucks left over, and so we bit the bullet and traded. Cost us five times as much as the original Home, and you really have to hold her head to get her past a gas pump."

"Ashley Montague? The bubble gummer singer? She bought your house?"

"Well, she didn't intend to," Sandy laughed. "She recorded Pick Me Please and didn't bother to sign a royalty agreement with us, thought she was too hot shit. We probably would have let it go, but we got a snotty letter from her lawyers saying we had to license it from her. Well, we wrote the song, copyrighted it, performed it, and recorded it two years before she did. When the screaming was over with, we settled out of court, bought our house in Bradford and got this thing."

"Emily told me a little story about the real meaning of Pick Me Please," he laughed. "Did she know it?"

"Not when she recorded it," Sandy laughed. "We did sort of threaten to publicize the story before they decided to settle."

Lesbian or not, as he laughed Dave decided he really liked this dishwater blonde with the jovial attitude and the earthy manner. "What was the business about staying separate until we're on 80?"

"It's a little cumbersome to be hooked up in heavy traffic," she explained. "We get out of town, we're gonna hook up Toad so we can ride together, at least till it gets to be sleepy-time."

"I've heard someone mention Toad before," he asked. "What's that?"

"We'll sometimes set up at a Renfaire for three or four weeks," she explained. "With the old Home, it wasn't a big deal to hop in and run down to get a loaf of bread and a quart of milk. This thing is a pain in the butt to tear down like that, once you get settled in. So, we got the Geo. We call it the Toad because when we jump from Renfaire to Renfaire, it's usually hooked on behind."

"Isn't it a little hard to drive like that?"

"No big deal if you're used to driving a semi."

"You drive a semi?" he asked.

"A little," she smiled. "It gets a little boring hanging around Bradford on break. One time I got Dean to let me try driving his Kenworth, and when the dust settled I had a CDL. I drive team with him or his brother once in a while, fill in sometimes. Just something to stay busy."

Dave swung around, to look at the scene in the back. Several people were sitting around the table playing gin rummy. He could hear guitar music from the back, and with a little craning of the neck discovered Dayna and Vicky were having a little singalong with the boys.

He gave a little sigh. It still hurt to lose Julie. Hurt like hell. But if there were any saving grace, it was that he'd been introduced to some old friends he'd forgotten -- most of who were pretty memorable and remarkable people. He hadn't had friends like this in New York. But still, it wasn't a fair trade.

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