Canon Ch. 09

"All your fault," he said. "Those voodoo eyes of yours. Can't decide which one to look at, and they cast a spell on me."

"Yours are like wells," she laughed. "I keep falling into them."

They laughed together, then looked at each other and smiled. "How are your eggs?" she asked.

"What eggs? Oh, you mean these?" He looked at his half-empty plate. "No idea. Haven't tasted a thing."

"Oh, come on."

He looked at her frankly. "Amy, I'm not the smoothest guy in the world even when things are..." He hesitated.

"Normal," she said with a small smile.

"Yeah. Normal." He looked at her. "And besides the dreams - well, you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen." He looked at his plate, then up at her again - just as Geoff would have done, she thought. "Not to mention what you did to those three punks night before last. I feel about as sure of myself as a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest."

She laughed. "Surely I'm not all THAT intimidating."

He smiled, but only a little. "Yes," he said. "You are."

Her own smile faded. "You're having an effect on me, too, Jeff," she said. "Not that one. But just as strong."

There followed a moment of silence as they looked at each other. "What do you know, Amy?" he finally asked. "Can you tell me?"

She looked at him, and for the first time took his hand in both of her own.

She looked down at it. His hands were not as big as Geoff's, and they were smoother, and less scarred and veined; but they somehow were very like the old soldier's hands.

She already knew how they would feel on her body.

She looked up at his face.

"Yes," she said, "I will, Jeff. But not quite yet. I'm going to ask you to trust me. It's taking me a while to figure out HOW to tell you." She blinked at him. "Can you be patient with me a little longer?"

Jeff looked into Amy's strange, mismatched eyes again. One was innocent and hopeful, pleading with him; and the other was veiled and knowing, holding back something - momentous.

He slowly nodded. "All right," he said. "I can't imagine what you have to say. But I'll wait." Then he grinned. "But not too long, okay?"

She smiled. "I promise." She moved to get up. "Now let's go meet my friends. I think you're going to like them."

---

He followed her to Riverview, the nursing home where she volunteered on weekdays. As they walked into the front entrance together, a thin, white-haired woman in a wheelchair cried out, "Amy!" and held out her skinny arms, smiling with delight.

Amy bent down to give her a hug. "Hello, Rose. How's that arthritis today?"

"Tolerable," said the old woman with a beatific smile. "What are you doing here on a Saturday?"

"I decided to come by and introduce my friend Jeff," she said. "Jeff, this is Rose."

"Hello, Rose," he said, extending a hand. Rose brushed it away and held out her arms again, and he hugged her, laughing. "Nice to meet you."

"Any friend of Amy's is a friend of mine," she said happily.

Another resident was frantically waving from a nearby sofa. "We'd better go see Harvey, Rose," said Amy. "He looks like he's about to have a conniption."

The old woman laughed. "Watch out, Jeff," she said. "Harvey has a big crush on Amy. He might be jealous."

The elderly, corpulent man on the couch had a bald head and an enormous white handlebar mustache. He, too, greeted Amy with delight. "Hello, pretty girl! What are you doing here?"

"Well, I came to see you, Harvey," she said sweetly as she hugged him too.

"And who is this?" he asked with a bushy white eyebrow raised.

"This is my friend Jeff," she said. "Jeff, this is Harvey, my boyfriend."

The old man laughed. "if only I were fifty years younger, Amy," he chuckled, "that wouldn't be a joke. Nice to meet you, Jeff." They shook, and the younger man grinned.

"That is a most admirable mustache, sir," he said. "If I could grow one like that, I would."

The old man grinned back and stroked his bald head. "The hair under my nose, I got to keep," he said.

"Do you know if Doris is feeling better, Harvey?" asked Amy. "Has she come back from the hospital?"

The old man shook his head. "No, she's still in intensive care. She's doing better, though." He leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially. "Brooke knows one of the ICU nurses and gets us bulletins." He lifted his finger to his mustached lips. "Mum's the word."

Amy smiled. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she said, and the old man laughed.

She looked up. "Oh, look! There's Willard..."

---

They spent the rest of the morning at Riverview, and Jeff saw how much Amy meant to the residents there - and how much they meant to her.

He enjoyed the visit very much. He knew it was a kind of test, but he didn't mind that. He enjoyed the company of older people himself, and the occasional unpleasant sight or smell didn't bother him.

They stayed for lunch, and sat at separate tables so they could help more of the residents eat. Jeff was a hit; the old people took to him as if he were a long-lost friend, and as Amy watched him smiling and laughing with them, it was clear that he was enjoying himself too.

As they walked back to their cars, Jeff said, "You were right. I do like your friends. You come here every day?"

"Most weekdays," she said.

"That's wonderful. I'm sure they tell you what a saint you are - but I know your secret." He grinned.

She blinked up at him. "My secret?"

He leaned close and whispered. "You don't do it for them. You do it because it's fun."

She giggled and, on impulse, hugged him.

He hugged her back - and they embraced perhaps a few seconds longer than either intended.

They stood apart, her hand in his, and got lost in each other's eyes again for a moment.

Jeff murmured, "That felt..."

"Familiar." Amy smiled up at him.

"Yes." He squeezed her hand. "And nice." he looked at her curiously. "So... What now?"

How do I tell him? she thought.

As she looked at him, she heard Geoff's deep voice in her mind. It was not a sense of his presence; it was only a memory - but she heard his words very clearly:

"I only know one way to go, Amy. Straight ahead. You get ready, and then you charge up the hill."

She looked up at those black, black eyes, so deep, so warm, so familiar and yet so new and strange....

Yes. Straight ahead, she thought.

"Follow me to my house, Jeff," she said. "There's someone else you need to meet."

---

Jeff felt an eerie sense of familiarity as he drove through the gates. He had never seen the big old house before, not even in dreams; but he still somehow knew it. It felt like home.

He pulled up behind Amy's Toyota behind the garage, and looked back at the pool. The hairs on his neck rose; that place, he did remember from his dreams. He knew where the waterfall would be and what it looked like at night.

Amy came up beside him and slipped her arm through his. "Come on inside," she said, smiling at his open-mouthed expression. "It gets weirder."

As they entered the back door into the big country kitchen, he gasped. "This is so strange," he said. "I've never seen this place before, but I know it." He looked back at the pool.

"That place, I have seen," he said. He looked at the wall beside the door, then reached up and flipped the switch that turned on the waterfall. "Only it looked like that."

"How did you know what that switch does?" she asked with a small smile.

He blinked. "I don't know," he said. "I just did."

Amy beckoned with a finger, and they walked up the hall together. She opened the door to the middle bedroom and stepped back.

He leaned into the room, but did not enter. He looked at the old-fashioned, high four-poster bed for a long moment, and nodded - then looked back at Amy and smiled. She smiled back - and then they both looked down and blushed.

There was nothing to say.

"One more place," she whispered, and led him farther down the hall.

He gasped again when she opened the door to the steam room. "Oh, my God," he said softly. "It's real. It's all real..." He looked at her, his mouth open in wonder - and in an involuntary movement, his eyes slid up and down her body, from her eyes to her feet to her eyes again.

She did not mind. Her eyes were doing the same.

Predictably, they both blushed and looked away. "Let's go back to the living room," said Amy uncertainly.

"Yes, let's."

As they walked down the hall, Jeff asked, "Amy, what's going on? How can any of this be happening?" Then, as they sat down on the couch - also familiar from their dreams - he asked, "Who ARE you?"

She smiled. "Let me tell you about my late husband." She looked up at him, her expression unreadable. "He was your father."

"My... father?"

She opened a photograph album that was lying on the coffee table, where she had been looking at it the night before. She flipped to a picture of Geoff when he was much younger. She pointed, and he looked.

Jeff's eyes widened. "He looks like me."

She smiled. "No, Jeff. You look like him." She took his hand and held it.

"All right, Jeff. Get ready. Okay?" He nodded.

She took a deep breath. "He was a patient in a Navy hospital in Tokyo for almost five months in 1968. He was a hero - a Medal of Honor winner - and he once told me he knew a woman who was a direct descendant of Ieyasu Tokugawa." She smiled. "He told me that he knew her very well."

Jeff was staring at the picture, blinking in astonishment. "And his name was - Geoffrey, but with a G." He nodded. "He was my dad."

She nodded. "Yes, Jeff. He was." She squeezed his hand. "He died three months ago. Since then - well, I think he's been spending some time in your head."

Jeff nodded, understanding but not understanding. "I've felt him." He looked around. "That's why I know this place. This was his home."

He shook his head. "How can this be? And what about that - that tropical beach, with the grass shack and the little pier? Was that real too?"

She laughed. "Yes, that's our island - my island, now. It's real, too. Maybe we'll see it someday." She squeezed his hand. "Jeff, did you feel like - yourself, in those dreams?"

"No," he said instantly, shaking his head. "It was always like I was sharing my mind with someone else. Someone older - someone - damaged. Hurt, but healed." He nodded. "That was Geoff, wasn't it? Your husband. My dad."

"Yes," she said. "He was with you in those dreams. He sent them to us, to bring us together." She looked at him sidewise. "Jeff, are you okay with all this?"

He looked at the picture and thought. "I don't know yet," he finally said, with a reluctant honesty. "If I hadn't had those dreams myself, I wouldn't believe any of this. And even though I never knew him, and he never knew I existed, your husband was... Well, you were married to my father. That's kind of weird all by itself."

"Well," said Amy, "As long as we're dealing with weirdness, there's one more thing you need to know."

He looked at her quizzically. "There's more?"

She nodded. "I'm pregnant, Jeff. With Geoff's son. Your half-brother."

He sat back on the sofa, his mouth hanging open. "Give me a minute on that one, Amy. I'm feeling a little dizzy."

She smiled - and slid over and hugged him; his arms automatically went around her, too. "Well, factor in one more thing while you're getting undizzy." She squeezed him. "I think you're pretty amazing, Jeff. And it is isn't because you're like Geoffie - you're not. It's because you're you."

He squeezed her back. "You're the most amazing woman - the most amazing person - I've ever met, Amy. You overwhelm me."

She snuggled against him. "But...?"

"Let's talk about baggage."

She laughed and leaned back to see his smile. "No argument there, Jeff. What you see is what you get."

Then she smirked, a little wickedly. "But what you've seen in our dreams counts, too..."

This time, she did not blush or look away. She looked him in the eye and smiled.

He looked back steadily, entranced once more by her strange, disturbing eyes - and by the mystery of what lay behind them, and by her pale beauty. He smiled. So beautiful...

He knew what her body looked like, and felt like, even though they hadn't yet even kissed.

Well, that's easily remedied, he thought.

He leaned forward and kissed her - their first. They held it a bit longer than necessary - and then a bit longer than that.

When their lips parted and they opened their eyes, they found each other smiling.

"That felt... right," said Jeff. "Don't you think?"

Amy nodded. "Yes," she whispered. Then she grinned. "Let's do it again, just to make sure."

She giggled. And they did.

---

Some time later, they were relaxing in each other's arms, snuggling close and kissing occasionally. They had grown passionate, and their tongues had grown very well acquainted; and that, too, seemed strangely familiar and comfortable. They had taken a step back for a moment and were just holding each other. She nuzzled his shoulder with her cheek, and he stroked her short hair.

"So weird."

"Yes. But good."

"I hardly know you - but I feel like I've known you for years. Decades. My whole life."

"Me, too. I feel like you're my best friend."

"Oh, yes. Yes."

A pause. "Pretty good start, for strangers..."

"You're the lover of my dreams." Grin. "Really."

Laughter.

Afterward, they couldn't remember who said what - but it didn't matter. They felt the same.

They sat together in silence for a time, snuggling and kissing without speaking. Their tongues were growing even better acquainted; their hands already knew the way, but were still tentative and shy in the real, waking world.

He stroked her back, so strangely familiar, but his hands stopped short of her bottom. Her hands touched his chest and his hips, but stayed away from his fly. She wondered if his cock was as big as she remembered.

How weird is that? she thought. I'm remembering something that hasn't happened yet.

"Mmm... I think I'm getting to be okay with this," he whispered. He tentatively squeezed her breast.

Amy put her hand over his and snuggled closer. "I'm glad... Mmm..."

---

"How about dinner?" Jeff asked a little later. "I'm hungry. Can't live on love, y'know." He looked down at Amy, still snuggled in his arms, and smiled.

She giggled. "Sounds good. I know a little diner not far from here. Great burgers."

"Okay. Let's go in my car."

They sat up and began to rearrange their clothes, smiling at each other - and blushing, of course.

"That was fun," said Jeff.

"And we have so much to look forward to," whispered Amy.

He smiled and tweaked her bottom.

"Ouch!"

---

She was pleased to see that he was a little old-fashioned; he opened her door first, made sure she was comfortable, then went around and got into the driver's seat.

As they drove through the gate, he asked, "Do you like music? I'm partial to classical...." He pushed the Power button on the CD player.

It took her a moment to recognize it.

It was an arrangement for brass; tubas were playing the bass part, baritones the violas', and trumpets taking the part of the violins. But it was unmistakably Pachelbel's Canon in D.

"Oh, my God..." Amy's hand went to her mouth.

"What?" asked Jeff. "That's my favorite piece."

She looked at him, her eyes shining. "Mine, too," she said, her voice raspy with emotion. Her eyes were visibly wet.

He turned the player off. "I'm sorry. Bad memories?"

She shook her head quickly. "No, good ones. It's okay, Jeff. Turn it back on. Please. I love this music."

He smiled. "You're going to love this CD, then. It's called 'Pachelbel's Greatest Hit.' Fifteen different versions of the Canon in D."

He pressed "Play," and the CD started over. The familiar orchestral version began; Jeff skipped that one, and after a moment, Amy gasped. "It's lovely!" she exclaimed.

It was an arrangement for flute and chamber orchestra, and the silver tones of James Galway's artistry were rich and compelling. By the time it was finished, they were at the diner.

As they went in, she bubbled excitedly: "What else is on there?"

"The next is solo piano..."

"Ooo!"

"...Then an unearthly, but beautiful, version played on Moog synthesizer. Then a vocal arrangement, believe it or not... There's a classical guitar arrangement, one for brass, you heard that, another for traditional Japanese instruments..."

She smiled. "I'll bet you like that one."

He nodded. "It's mostly reed flutes. It's really pretty."

They slid into a booth. "Some of the later ones I really don't like," he said. "They improvise too much and get too far away from the original score. But most of them are pretty good."

"I can't wait to hear the rest!"

The waitress approached. They ordered burgers, on Amy's recommendation, and in a moment they were sipping on Cokes.

Jeff looked at her curiously. "I get the impression that the Canon is much more than just a piece of music to you."

She nodded, and after a moment spent looking into his eyes, she spoke.

"I have this feeling I can trust you with anything, Jeff," she said. "So I'll tell you..."

She told him about how Geoff hummed her to sleep to the Canon when she was a little girl, and how it became the background music of their love, their marriage, and eventually of his passing. How it played as they first accepted what they felt for each other, as they grew into love, as they made love and slept and waked - and as she held him that morning on the beach when she hummed him to sleep for the last time.

"...And they played it at his funeral," she finished. "I've only begun playing it again at home a few days ago."

She didn't tell him why.

Jeff looked at her, his black eyes soft. "And you're thinking how strange it is that I love it too," he said.

She nodded tentatively. "Yes... It just seems like one more weird coincidence."

"Maybe it isn't a coincidence," said Jeff. She looked at him curiously.

He smiled. "My mother used to play it for me when I was little, too - like a lullaby. I never got tired of it. It calms me and makes me feel like - like..."

"Like everything's all right," said Amy, smiling. "I know. Me too."

"Yes." He looked at her with a strange, anticipatory expression on his face. "And she was introduced to it by-"

"By that soldier in the base hospital," breathed Amy, her unsettling eyes wide. "The hero. Your father." Her eyes filled. "My Geoffie."

He nodded. His hand reached for hers, and she took it gladly. "He gave me so much," she said. "I'm glad he gave you something, too."

The waitress brought their burgers and fries, and they ate in silence for a few minutes.

"You were right. This is a good hamburger," said Jeff.

Amy smiled. "I want to make you dinner sometime," she said as they munched. "I'm a terrific cook, if I do say so myself."

"Well, I'm a terrific eater," he said with a grin. "Looks like a perfect match again."

She giggled. "I'm good at other things too," she whispered with a twinkle.

He smiled wryly. "You forget, Amy. I know that."

She smirked, even as she blushed. "I didn't forget...."

---

He dropped her at the big house. "Don't you want to come in?" she asked as he walked her to the door.

He smiled. "Give me a little time to absorb all this, Amy. It's a lot to take in."

She looked up at him, her heart in her eyes. "Will I see you tomorrow?" she asked.

"Count on it." He hugged her, and they shared a small, chaste kiss. "Like I said," he whispered, "I'm strapped in for the ride, Amy. I'm just wondering how much wilder it's going to get."

She smiled and kissed him again. "Call me."

"I will."