Chapter 4A

Another summer had come, and almost gone, in southern Texas. It was hot, but that was normal. Folks didn't bother remarking on it except to wonder facetiously what this thing "rain" was that they heard about on the Weather Channel.

Five-year-old Cathy would be starting kindergarten in a few weeks and four-year-old Cindy was an enthusiastic force of nature doing her best to energize an entire pre-kindergarten class. They were growing taller now, developing their own personalities.

Next week, the final hearing would be held in the Bexar County Courthouse and the adoption proceedings would be complete. New birth certificates would be issued naming Brad as their father and everything. When they started their classes, their last name would be the same for the first time in their lives. They loved their parents and were loved in return, and they knew it.

The marriage between their mother and "new" father had survived, but it had been tough. There had been disagreements, a few arguments, and many late night discussions, but their relationship was intact. Most people would say it had healed.

Brad wasn't so sure. That his wife had "disconnected," as she put it, under the stress of the bubbling excitement and all the activity at the swinger's hotel last year still depressed him at times. Even though she swore she would never again yield to a temptation to keep him in the dark about anything, Brad had doubts.

Ashley seemed sincere though. He had no reason to doubt her... not really. He decided she probably meant what she said. It didn't cheer him much on those occasions when he let himself brood on the shame and humiliation she'd heaped on him that afternoon in Dallas. There were too many things left unexplained... things that had crushed him at the time... but things Ashley was more than happy to forget as fast as she could. She had shamed herself too and suffered herself. Hers was a self-imposed chastisement; Brad hadn't had a choice.

Seemingly, Ashley didn't understand some things she'd said to Brad as they sat on the sofa watching the girls. For instance, she'd remarked a couple of times on the "excitement" she'd felt. She even blamed it for having been overwhelmed in the hotel lobby. It told him she craved excitement... she missed it.

She'd also told him very solemnly the sexual atmosphere there, real or perceived, was not a part of what had happened. Brad knew different. Ashley was truthful... but she didn't seem to realize sex was the source of the excitement. The breathless anticipation of the sex act was what had been driving her mood up there in the hotel.

No amount of talking could convince Ashley this was true. She accepted what he said but there was a barrier in her mind he could not breach. She could not feel his concerns. She thought she was prepared to successfully suppress any future excitements and disconnects. She'd never let herself get into that condition ever again, she said.

Brad, though, lived in fear of the next occasion Ashley might feel the need for that excitement she'd anticipated... and experienced... in that Dallas hotel. He lived with it every day. A philosopher once said all men lived lives of quiet desperation. Brad knew exactly what the man meant.

"You ready for this?" Ashley asked with a smile. Brad nodded. He was. They'd never had time for a real honeymoon and their one attempt to have a belated one last summer turned into a catastrophe. When Ashley won a week's stay at one of the Riverwalk's finer hotels in a charity raffle, they cautiously decided to try again.

Grandma and Grandpa Rogers had the two girls for tonight, tomorrow, and Wednesday night. Then they'd take them to Ashley's Mom and step-dad who would take care of the munchkins Thursday and Friday. Saturday and Sunday were reserved for Ashley's Dad and her step-mom. With three sets of grandparents, the girls were in seventh heaven. They'd never had so much non-stop attention.

Brad and Ashley spent the first three days alone except for the odd room maid, a waitress or two in restaurants around, and the bellhop who brought up meals from the room service menu. They needed this time alone--they hadn't realized how badly they'd needed it until they were well into the break from everyone else.

On Thursday, they needed to get out and decided to stroll down the Riverwalk to one of the sidewalk bars they'd been told served the biggest, coldest margaritas known to mankind. The afternoon sun was behind the tall buildings of downtown San Antonio. The walk down the river canal was a pleasant one.

On the way, they passed a group of girls in bright green, satiny warm-ups, a sports team of some kind taking the opportunity to visit one of the city's main attractions. The name of a prominent university was emblazoned on the front of the jackets and the girls' names on the back. Most of them were too pretty, in Brad's estimation, for athletes, but some were tall, almost hulking.

As he and Ashley passed the group, one of the prettiest was tripped when she and another girl moved into the same empty space at the same time. She fell sprawling out in the busy sidewalk right in front of Brad.

"Are you okay?" Brad asked sympathetically, kneeling quickly beside the young woman. Her first reaction to his question was to flush a bright, fire engine red. A quick breath hissed in her teeth as she drew in some air.

"I'm all right," she said in a small voice. Brad studied her carefully. He'd seen a lot of people fall precipitously and not realize they were badly injured until they tried to get up.

"Well... uh... wiggle everything to make sure," he suggested. "Let's make sure, okay?"

The woman obligingly gave herself a perfunctory pat down, moving legs and twisting about in tiny arcs to check herself out. Brad didn't know it, but she was an accomplished gymnast and did, in fact, know the dangers of a sudden fall.

"I'm okay," she told Brad. Her eyes were fixed on his face the whole time.

Brad nodded, stood up, and extended his hand down to the young woman. When she clasped forearms with him, he hauled her up by main force. The girls all around noticed how little effort he had to use to pull the young woman upright. He might have just been doing an arm curl for all the strain he showed. The girl who'd fallen stood close to the older man for just a moment before stepping back.