The shower was quick, and I got out, re-dressed and started blow drying my hair. I had a little make up in my purse, and began to apply it when the bathroom door squeaked open again. Rafe was standing there with that enigmatic smile on his face.

            "Are you ready?" He came in, staring at me tenderly. "You sure impressed Lance. I appreciate that."

            "He told you about your mom?"

            I finished the last touches and closed the purse, while Rafe took my hand. "Yes." The door behind us slid closed. In seconds he had me cornered up against the counters. I debated turning in his arms to find out what was going on in his head.

            But he solved the mystery for me. "Mom means well. She's an amazing woman, Aubrey, but she's got these weird opinions about child rearing that I need to explain. Her idea is that children are right, and parents should conform to children's beliefs. I think it comes from having freakishly opinionated children who didn't conform to anything."

            "Was your mom a strong church member?"

            He cocked his shoulder at me. I wasn't sure if that meant that he didn't know, or was reluctant to judge. "She was from pioneer founding families that crossed the plains and healed oxen and all kinds of weird sh--- stuff. But I don't think she ever had it in her. Not like--- you do. It was something she expected of herself at some level, because that's what her family was."

            "Has she had her name removed from church records?"

            "I know for a fact she has. Danny did as well, and Chris. But not me and Lance and Dad."

            Well, now I knew how that stood. I guess it made a difference. Maybe Janice felt that denouncing the church was a way of honoring her son who had died honoring another lifestyle. I don't know. I could see it as a possibility. Many people wanted to honor those close to them.

            Along those lines: "Chris said you posed nude for--- homosexual magazines?"

            He nodded. "I didn't pose with anybody. It was a back shot, and I just lowered a towel, you see my butt and my tats."

            I swallowed. "And you did it to honor Danny?"

            He shrugged. "Partly. I think--- when I did it, I was really mad at people who don't tolerate other people's choices. Your church—other churches—people in general--- political people, differences. I really went through a phase where I saw intolerance as the thing that killed my brother."

            "And now you know differently?" I was catching that in his tone, but I had to make sure.

            His lips quirked. "No—I don't know differently, Aubrey. I still feel strongly about people who won't tolerate--- but that's not the point. You spoke words that touched my heart today. You said it isn't about not tolerating somebody's chosen lifestyle, it's about not forcing your own choices on somebody else. I don't need to care what others think or do. It's really living by my own beliefs that I should be doing. If I believe that homosexuality is a lifestyle choice and if I wanted to I could choose it, so I would want to defend my right to choose it--- then I need to respect that others don't feel that way. There are not very many laws discriminating against them anymore."

            "Laws--- yeah, laws are something worth advocating for. Media hype--- I don't know. I think I personally am not super in favor of using the media to provoke----." He was still pinning me to the counter, but while my thoughts twirled around this calm conversation about beliefs, Rafe had lifted my hand. I felt his funny brushing movements with fingers against my fingers and then the sliding of something unyielding and cool. I looked down, withdrawing my hands from his just as he slid the ring into place.

            His eyes stared into mine calmly. But mine darted from the solid white gold diamond encrusted band with the huge sparkling stone right in the middle, to his eyes, telling me things I couldn't quite understand. "What are you doing?"

            He took both of my hands, and drew my fingers to his lips, pressing there, with his eyes peering at me over the tops of my white knuckles. "You said maybe. I think in my book anyway—that makes us engaged."

            "Engaged." I repeated dumbly, my eyes felt clouded, like the field of vision narrowed perceptibly, as I wavered, a dizzy blonde moment happening.

            He was grinning. "There will be plenty of time on tour to discuss our differences."

            "On tour?"

            "Yes."

            "I can't. I have to work."

            "You have to be with me."

            "I want to be with you. Yes."

            "I am asking you to be with me. You're on an indefinite leave of absence. Just stay on it a little longer."

            "What, like a week?"

            "Like a month. Can you do a month? And then go back?"

            "I ---." I looked up at the white blue ceiling--- wishing it were dark blue, less revealing. "I have to ask."

            "Whatever you have to do, yes, do it. You have to ask your office? Your work?"

            "No. Kell."

            "What?"

            "Kell made me promise not to go to South America with you."

            "We're a whole month in Mexico. Come with me to Mexico."

            "I'm not sleeping with you."

            "Sleeping yes. Not having sex with me."

            I sighed again, and a small smile quirked the corners of my lips. "What if we fight? What if we are out in the middle of nowhere and you want to just dump me off? Or beat me up? We both know I can drive you crazy."

            "Yes, you do, you drive me crazy. A good kind of crazy." He grinned and then leaned in for the kiss again, and everything in me pulled into him--- squirming and pulsing in desire---- a natural outcome of this kind of kissing--- I'd been warned by older sisters.

            "You drive me crazy too."

            "Then I suppose we both run the risk of being dumped off in the middle of nowhere."

            "How do you travel?"

            "Mostly bus. The Taj Mahal of buses."

            "My mom has the Taj Mahal tour bus. I've been on it. You go crazy after a few weeks."

            "I wouldn't tour with your mom--- we par-tay, princess."

            "Don't ever call me Princess."

            Blink---- "Okay."

            "Did you tour with your mom?"

            "No. But some of the older kids did. Danny even remembers the pickup and trailer days with Peppers, for about----a year."

            "Get out. He does not. He would have been a baby. Casey died while Pepper's was broken up."

            "Whatever. There are pictures to prove it."

            "So, you've never been on tour."

            "No. But maybe it's a lot like moving summer camp?"

            He couldn't stop laughing. He laughed so hard I thought he might pee his pants. When he finally subsided into little snorts, wiping his nose and eyes frequently, I smiled.

            "So. Not."

            "We're actually really calm to tour with. We have three buses now, caz Ben brings Addie and Jeff brings Rhonda and the kids. Touring isn't really the place for kids and wives, and certainly not girlfriends, but you know--- it happens. This will probably be our last tour of this kind."

            "So, will I be in the bus with Rhonda and Addie and the kids or....?" I was grinning. "If I go?"

            "No, you'll be exclusively with me for a month. Maybe more."

            "You won't be able to stand me for that long."

            "You know, you're right. Touring tensions are high. It's a pain in the ass to get along all the time. But I have an agenda, and I stick to it, and it works." He looked smug, stepped once again into my space and cupped my bottom to him. I froze.

            "The A word is cussing for your information."

            He let his head drop backward in exasperation. "Okay, no ass." He let go of mine.

            I nodded, smiled and ran my fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes, savoring the moment apparently. "Agenda?"

            "We drive. When we drive we play music, we read, we listen to music, check YouTube videos, listen to other peoples stuff, and play cards sometimes--- not much actually, but we can play cards if you want. We watch movies."

            I nodded. "And when you stop?"

            "If we're there two days we might get a hotel, and we shower and eat and hang out and practice and then go on. We promote--- hell we promote--- I mean heck---"

            "When mom is promoting--- I think when she's promoting--- she appears on TV talk shows, radio shows, at coffee shops, and it's like a camera is following her everywhere."

            "Yeah." He had his eyes closed as I massaged his head. "Your mom's pranks are legendary."

            "Is that what it's like? Caz I am not media literate. I don't like cameras and don't like answering questions. I would seem -- unfriendly."

            "I'm out there, baby. For our band, it's me. I'm the front man. Everybody else can stay home."

            "So I want to go watch you play sometimes and sit in the bus most of the time without you? So I can what? Sleep cramped in the same twin bunk on the highest or lowest? What do you prefer, the high bunk or the low bunk?"

            "Middle. We got three." He was relishing this attention, his fingers were relaxed, his whole head had fallen forward, and his neck and shoulders were starting to lose that really tense rigidity.

            I blew out my breath. "Do I get my own bunk?"

            He shrugged. "Yeah. To put your stuff on, and you can hide there when I'm busy. If you need to."

            His voice had turned very languid. I pulled his hair out hard, and then relaxed it. I loved having that done to me. He sighed in pleasure.

            "Gee, Rafe, sounds fun."

            He finally opened his eyes and looked down at me, then he leaned forward and kissed me long and slow, really liking this new dimension to our contact. "You will share my bunk every night. Not negotiable."

            "Totally negotiable." I retorted and pulled him back so he could see me plainly. "Honestly, Rafe. You should just go. I'll be here when you get back. We made it three months before."

            He was shaking his head. "You cannot live without me for that long. You need me."

            I was shaking my head, and my heart was shaking my body, my whole being trembled. Part of me really leaped at the idea of going with them, and part of me was frozen in panic. I liked Rafe--- really liked him--- maybe even fancied myself in love with him--- but he was—fast. Intense. Good at getting what he wanted, and what happened when what he wanted was to get away from me? Being on tour--- surely he understood how tightly closed in it felt.

            "Aubrey. Trust me. This is our time. We belong together."

            "You've said that to a hundred girls. It even sounds like a line."

            "A few." He admitted honestly and I loved that about him---in that second--- it hit me that he wasn't afraid to be honest. That was refreshing after years of medical training where the ins and outs of surgeon's lives had been so precariously dishonest with themselves and their chosen spouse or significant other. There were far too many liaisons inside the terrible crushing intensity that was surgery.

            "What?" He smiled at me, rubbing my fingers.

            "I appreciate your honesty."

            He nodded. "I have that going."

            "Rafe--- even if I wanted to, I can't come with. I have already notified people that---"

            "Un-notify them."

            "Rafe---."

            "You are on an indefinite leave of absence while you figure out your life and recover from the death of your niece." This was said gently, and with absolute understanding. "Another month would do you good."

            I shook my head. "Neonatal surgeons don't just refigure out their lives, Rafe. They've already spent twenty years doing that." I sighed in exasperation lifting my hand to stare at the ring he'd placed there. It was beautiful and I'd never worn a diamond. Now I understood what he meant when he said he thought I was his diamond. I sighed again. This should be one of the happiest moments of my life, but suddenly I was at war with myself again. He might be the right guy--- like premortal promise guy or something--- The whole Saturday's Warrior thing going on. But—right now? His life? It was so.... Different.

And his opinions? How was I to honestly say yes, when I knew--- or thought I knew that those things would stand in the way of our future happiness?

            He drew in his breath—sensing my thoughts. "You know what this represents?"

            I wobbled my head. Of course I knew what an engagement ring meant.

            "No, not that." His laugh lines crinkled reading my expression. "When I was young--- junior high, still in Young Men's, still passing the sacrament, still in Scouts—" He painted that picture well for me--- I was very familiar with it. "I started this band with my friends Ben and Jeff and Troy. It was amazing. We played the school dance that year. Us and another young guy's group. Then we played the LA fair. That's big, only we weren't big. We called ourselves Hero. The taste of the music world we got was intoxicating—inspiring--- enthralling--- everything I wanted. I knew I would work harder than anybody, sleep on floors, wash dishes, climb mountains and practically kill myself to make it in the music world."

            I leaned against the counter, and he realized how uncomfortable it was for this conversation, so he took me out to the bedroom, looked around as if for a proper venue and then simply decided on the bed. He placed me up at the head against the pillows and then stood and paced, not able to sit still. I watched him. He didn't look at me, obviously seeing the past in his mind's eye.

            "And I did. For the next four years I worked my ass off. I became single minded, I studied, I researched, I met people, I pushed to meet more people. But we didn't do that well. I wrote hundreds of songs. I recorded, and built a studio in our spare bedroom. I recorded other people and made a little money. And over time, I did start to notice that my new interests were leaving some of my previous interests behind. The church for one. I could see it happening. First one perception, one leader, one Bishop's advice, one talk, one hurt feeling.... It all started happening, and I saw it, Aubrey, I knew it was happening, and I chose to let it. But---." He held up his hand, froze in place at the side of the bed, his eyes glittering into mine. "I made some money--- not a lot initially, but significant for my age and the popularity of our band. I had put all my earnings back into the band, the touring van, the equipment, everything, but we had been able to save a little also. I was out one night, thinking about what I really wanted out of life. I really, really wanted to be a famous rock star. More than anything. I laid there out on the beach, and realized that no matter what, that was my goal. My mom was supportive, my dad wanted me to go on a mission. I was less active by then, but I respected my dad, and--- and--- I'd always felt something when I was at church. I felt the Holy Ghost I think. And that night--- that night I asked God--- yeah, I asked God---." His eyes had filled with tears and he sat on the bed so close I could lean into him and wrap him in my arms.  He held onto my wrist, staring straight ahead. "And God said this---- someday you will want it all back. You will want what I offered you in the beginning." He wiped his eyes and choked a little and I felt the throat clogging eye pinching feeling of sympathy tears. "He knew I was going to leave it all behind, even become deceived by my own aspirations and dreams. And into my mind came this image--- of the temple. And I had the thought to keep that as my ultimate goal.... I figured I could--- I figured I wouldn't get so far away from the iron rod...." His eyes slid to mine at the reference--- a very Mormon reference. I caught it--- and nodded slightly as another tear leaked out and ran down my cheek. "So far away that I couldn't get back. I figured I would purchase a token--- this ring as a matter of fact, to remind me of my ultimate goal. And then, when things heated up, and I became a famous musician, and rock star, I would take it out and look at it, and remember that somewhere out there was this girl, this beautiful girl waiting for me to take her to the temple and have our life."

            He buried his face in my neck and sobbed, really sobbed. He clutched my arms sideways around his shoulders, and we both sobbed together. I thought of his last ditch effort to retain his former life as his new and chosen profession became a reality. I thought of how the ring must have kept him grounded, kept some little part of him safe and sane. I fingered the ring, twirled it around my finger, and wondered if I was really that girl. He seemed to think it was time. He'd just confessed this amazing, amazing—story. I couldn't even get over the thought of this young boy on the cusp of stardom--- seeking to retain some kind of calling card to remind himself of a life he actually hoped was real as well. He was right, he made choices--- and that was the way it should be--- he'd made choices that he knew were leading him away from the church. At the time, I bet he didn't realize how far Satan would take him away, but by giving me this ring, he was saying he still felt there was hope.

            The magnitude of what he was placing on me was enormous. Gymungous! He was literally telling me that even though he'd really gone far away--- and had changed--- really fundamentally changed, he still held out that hope.

            And he wanted me there, here--- for this journey.

            I had this sudden image in my mind. I closed my watering eyes and peered at it intently for almost a minute. In it I saw clouds, and in the clouds--- a battle.... I could hear explosions, see fire, feel the whizzing of bullets past my ears. I felt the hard packed dirt beneath my feet, and ahead of me, in the fray—I saw people--- sons of God--- front line fighters in the premortal war in heaven--- a war to preserve life and choice. Rafe was in there--- in the battle. A front line fighter. And I ---- I was outside it--- a support person--- a nurse so to speak—me and others like me--- I could see myself carrying bandages, gauze, first aid.....

            It was very clear, and then it faded. Really---- there and then gone. I felt for a very small moment that I had glimpsed a real scenario.

            I held Rafe closer, shaking with emotion.

            "Aubrey..."

            I was nodding. I heard my echoing voice telling him earlier that I wanted the full time church going husband I could talk religion with. I could hear the echoes of childhood prayers, and even adult prayers, begging Heavenly Father to send me a man I could be with forever. I remember pledging to do whatever it took to win this man, I remember promising Heavenly Father that I would be whoever he needed me to be.

            Of course, we all think when we say those things that Heavenly Father will work within our own set parameters. That if we go to college and become a doctor, for Pete's sake, then that's what he would work with. I don't think we picture ourselves having to leave our own comfort zones.

            But that whatever it takes clause loomed in my future right now. I hadn't exactly prayed to know if Rafe was that man. But I did believe that Heavenly Father always answered prayers. Not as we saw fit, but as He saw fit. Did I continue to wear this ring? Knowing that it meant Rafe was deciding it was time to change his life around. Ha! Did he even have a clue what that would mean?

            I did. I'd seen it in my own life first hand. The deeper and more influential a person was on the dark side--- so to speak--- the harder Satan would work to keep him there. And if he could take me down with him, he would.

            Accepting this ring--- and going on tour with him for a month--- would really mean entering the battle--- pulling my wounded man off the field and fighting to save his life.

            As soon as I thought that, my heart lightened, and I felt a determination glow within me. Really? Really? This is the turn of events I am supposed to take? I wasn't even sure it meant that I was to marry Rafe--- but simply be there to pull him off the battle field and ----

            I was caught up in the ramifications of my vision, and I'd left Rafe sitting here holding me---- crying.

            I heard the bedroom door open and wiped my eyes on his shirt. Lance stood there, dressed in slacks and a blue button down, looking devastatingly handsome. His blue eyes were full of keen interest, and very curious. Rafe dried his eyes also and glanced at the door, waving his brother to him. Lance entered, stood beside him, and Rafe got up and embraced him wordlessly. I guess no words are necessary.

            I felt drawn to them, these two soldiers in the battle for life. I felt like I could see them in their true forms and understand their potential, and their value.

            I got up and wrapped them both in my arms. I instantly felt the warmth of their acceptance, as they each encompassed me.

            Of course, a more down to earth side of me recognized how short I was in that instant. Both of them towered over me, dang it.

            I felt my head returning to earth as well. My makeup had to be smeared all over my face by now. Lance and Rafe were both dressed, but I was a mess.

            I squeezed out of their arms and went back to the bathroom for repairs. I thought about Rafe's proposal--- about what it would mean to go on tour with them.

            Really? I'd heard stories of my mom's touring days--- fun--- crazy, hectic--- taking years off your life. And expensive! Was this what I really wanted?   

            I called Gerald, my main partner.

            "Hey, Aubrey, how are you feeling? I've been worried, you haven't called for days." His answering click was almost instant.

            "Sorry, complications." I said shortly. "Listen, I read your email about the practice. It sounds like things are going okay."

            "Nadia has been covering your patients. Nothing extremely out of the ordinary has been going on. Are you coming back soon?"

            "I've been thinking of taking a break--- for at least another month."

            "That's fine. Do you mind if I ask why? Are you still struggling with what we talked about?"

            I had confided my distaste for the lack of successful live deliveries and surgeries. Holding dead babies can get to you. He understood completely, it was why he'd quit the hospital circuit and was just in private practice. He very rarely birthed babies in the hospital setting, and didn't do much consulting on difficult patients. But that wasn't his specialty anyway.

            "I am struggling with it, but that's not why. I've met someone, and I might be going on a trip with him."

            "Oh." This was not an encouraging sound.

            "I've got my bills covered." I hurried to assure him. "You won't go under in my absence."

            "No--- no, that's not what I was thinking, but I know there have been a lot of requests for you."

            "I'm sure. But I just can't face it right now. And I need to explore this thing with my guy. If he is Mr. Right, he deserves that much."

            "You can't date him like a normal person?"

            "He's not--- normal."

            There was silence. "Not in the medical profession at all?"

            "No." I felt slightly abashed wondering why there was such a stigma attached to dating someone out of the medical field anyway. Or at least in the professional fields--- such as lawyers, or accountants, or administrators. "He's a singer."

            Dead silence.

            "He's ---." How to explain Rafe. Well, I couldn't. "Ger--- he isn't going to be around for about three months, on tour, you know--- and it's kind of a critical time in our --- getting to know each other---."

            "You're thinking he's Mr. Right? You've told me a million times that the entertainment industry isn't in your blood. Remember? How'd you meet this guy?" He was on speaker as I straightened my hair, I glanced in the mirror behind me and saw Rafe standing there. He'd heard that last sentence.

            "He's my next door neighbor at the beach house." I was slightly embarrassed about the Mr. Right confession, but in my defense--- I had said maybe--- to a proposal of marriage--- just a few minutes ago. Rafe folded his arms awaiting my further reply. His expression was extremely enigmatic. I smiled. "We've had some good times."

            "Do I know him?" Gerald was nothing if not perceptive.

            "Rafe Stryker." I knew he would be shocked. I'm pretty conservative. Rafe is---- not.

            "Stryker." He repeated dumbly and then I felt like I could hear him shaking his head and I couldn't stand the thought of Rafe hearing that head shake right now, so I took it off speaker and put it carefully to my ear.

            "Listen, can you guys hold it together another month? I'll call you, okay." I hung up after hearing his initial hesitancy and then put the hair stuff away.

*******