Larry Franklin sat in his easy chair, watching Sharon reading one of her many books. His mind traveled back to their first meeting.

He had gone to several ministers, but, to no avail. They could not answer his questions about the dreams he had seen that came true so often, or the things he could see about others that always seemed to prove themselves out. Their most common response was to tell him the devil was trying to take his soul. That answer never set right with him.

During his search for answers he met a woman who owned a little shop of soaps and sundries. A friendship quickly formed with her and her best friend Deidra. They seemed able to share many answers. When she felt she had nothing more to give, she sent him to Nogales, Arizona. He was to meet a couple whom she said could provide him with more information. Her last piece of advice was for him to come back from Nogales alone. He did not understand her meaning. Trusting thier friendship, he headed west in his search.

In Nogales he quickly learned one thing - he did not like the man. He saw him to be someone who was more interested in controling others. His wife was nice enough. The girl who was staying with them Larry knew he liked immediately upon looking at her. He felt he already knew her. He was confused by her silence, speaking to him only when he spoke first. He finally asked the husband why the girl did not like him. The man explained that it was just her way, to observe for awhile, to see if someone is what they appeared to be.

One afternoon he volunteered to take her to her job with the largest communications company in the state. He explained that when he picked her up they could go out for some coffee.

Larry watched Sharon gently shake her head after she stepped out of the car. He loved the way her long, auburn hair cascaded over her 29 year old shoulders. His admiration of her grew more each time they were together. After she disappeared into the tall building, he pulled away from the curb and drove to his apartment.

John Applegate, Sharon's ex-brother-in-law, had followed Larry around like a lost puppy until the Larry finally agreed to share an apartment. Since Larry had no job and his resources were running short, he accepted the idea of sharing expenses.

Friday night came. Larry, not interested in watching television, planned on reading until Sharon got off work at midnight. They were going out for dinner.

John poured himself a cup of coffee, then headed toward the couch.

"Aren't you going out?" Larry asked expecting him to be barhopping like he normally did every Friday night.

"Nope," he said. "Thought I'd stay home tonight and keep you company." He kicked his shoes off and propped his feet atop the cheap coffee table.

Since John paid half the rent and nearly all the groceries, Larry felt he not have the right to complain. Resigned to suffer John's presence, Larry poured himself some coffee and sat on the couch.

Larry watched the red lava lamp silently gurgle globs of oil to the top silently float back to the bottom. "Would you look at that?" He pointed toward a space on the empty wall in front of him.

"What?" John strained his eyes, unable to see anything but blank wall.

"That dark spot on the wall." Larry pointed. "Don't you see it?"

The darl spot grew until it looked like a hole large enough for him to walk through. "It sorta looks like a tunnel." Larry had heard about astral projection, but had never done it. He studied the hole, then said, "I'm going through it to see what's on the other side."

"Don't leave me here," John said. "Can I go with you?"

"If you want to." Larry's innocence had not been corrupted into believing that everything in the world was for one's own experience. "Just don't get lost."

As his eyes unfocused, without hesitation, his mind entered the blackness. John followed.

They emerged from the tunnel into a place blanketed with a dim, blue haze. Stretched out before them, in semicircular rows were individual mausoleums

"By the fact that everyone's buried above ground, we must be some where in Louisiana.

"Larry," John's voiced floated as if echoing in a canyon. "Come here and take a look. I think I know this guy!"

Unheeding John, Larry knelt down before a crypt and whispered, "Now I know why I'm here."

"Who is it?" John asked as he came up behind Larry.

"It's her," he said, "the one I came to see." His fingers gently touched the roughly hewn stone, more feeling the words than seeing. He read, "Emily Franklin LeBeaux ... Devoted wife and loving mother ... Born full of life - April 16, 1833, Died before her time - April 16, 1863." He looked at the smaller crypt next to it, and read "Brandon Marcus LeBeaux ... Beloved son ... Born full of life - September 7, 1851 ... Died before his time - April 16, 1863." He fell silent.

John looked around. "I wonder what happened to them?"

"I know what happened." Larry began, "she died because she killed me."

"Huh?" John blurted out in shock.

"That's me - Brandon LeBeaux!" he said as he pointed to the smaller grave. "And she was my mother."

His thoughts raced backward in time.

Young Brandon ran to the stable yelling out, "He's home, Mamá". He wanted to warn his mother know that his father surrey was coming up the path.

"Mamá," he called out again as he pushed on the huge heavy stable door. "He's ..."

She had been planning this all day. Wanting to protect Brandon from what she was going to do, she had waited until he was asleep before going to the stable. She had been waiting in one of the dark stalls inside the stable. Her hand raised the shotgun. Her finger rested on the trigger. Expecting her womanizing, drunken, wife-beating husband to make his appearance she began pulling on the trigger. She knew it was now or never. She could no longer stand the beatings. She did not want to see him trying to prove is manhood by abusing their only child.

The sound of gun shot shattered the night air.

The form jerked, then slumped to the ground crying out "Mamá".

Her enraged mind forbade his words to register. She lowered the heavy shotgun.

Kneeling beside the lifeless body, reality leaked into her awareness. Her screams turned into sobbing ... then into another gun shot. The night settled in fatal silence.

Larry stopped talking.

"I bet that's her husband, over there." John finally said, "I found it in that fenced off area - he's got the same last name. His wooden marker read: July 1863 ... William Henrí LeBeaux ... Husband and father ... Died by a proper hanging."

"Yeah." Larry explained, "He was accused of killing both of us. He couldn't prove he didn't do it. With his history of abuse, everyone believed he did it, so they hung him."

"Was I part of this family?" John asked.

"Yes," Larry said flatly, "but right now I've got something more important to do. I've got to let her know I forgive her for shooting me." He stood before her crypt and closed his eyes. In his mind he went into her casket, saw her form whole and complete, and said, "Mamá, I forgive you. You thought I was father. It was dark and you couldn't see clearly. I don't hold it against you." Then he opened his eyes, turned to John, and said, "It's done, let's go home."

They sat on the couch and looked around the room. The black hole was gone.

"Wow!" was all John could say. Reaching for his cup of coffee which he found was still hot.

Larry looked at his wrist watch and saw that it was 10:15. He wished it was time to get Sharon. He was anxious to tell about what had just happened. He looked at John and said, "You do you know you were the father, don't you?" Larry waited a moment, then continued, "That's the only explanation of why you're in our lives now. Think about it."

"I don't know ..." John frowned as the remark sank in.

At 12:20 Larry spotted her huddled by the revolving glass doors. Her coat collar was pulled up in an attempt to block the winds that forever found its way around the tall buildings of downtown. He honked to let her know where he was. An uncomfortable silence followed her as she entered the car.

"How was work?" he said, hardly able to contain himself.

"Busy. what happened tonight?" she asked.

"A lot. Why?" he said. He looked into her eyes and saw something that told him that she knew about what happened earlier.

"I'm not sure but it felt like a very heavy weight was lifted off my shoulders."

"Did you notice what time this happened?" Larry said excitedly.

"Around 10:15. why?" she asked. She placed hand on his arm.

Excitedly, he started telling her.

When he finished, she smiled, leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "That explains a lot. I've been hoping this would happen. It was necessary for you to go through this before we could be together."

He looked at her, feeling a certainty he had never felt before, and smiled. "So, when do you want to get married?"

She thought a moment, then said, "I've got four days off this Valentine weekend. That okay with you?"

Larry sat in his easy chair, watching Sharon reading one of her many books. "It's hard to believe we've been married 30 years this coming Valentine's Day. Have any regrets?"

She smiled. She looked at the pictures of their children and grandchildren poised on the end-table by her chair, thought a moment, then said, "Not one!"