Jane Carolyn was late for work. She had an important meeting that she needed to begin in ten minutes, and she was still two blocks away from her office building. Not paying attention to anything but her watch, she hurried along, cutting corners and jaywalking whenever possible to shave a few seconds from her hurried commute. Around her, the melting pot of humanity that was New York City flowed like a river, nearly every person just as hurried as she was to get to their oh-so-important destination. Suddenly, as she broke into a jog to get across the crosswalk before the light changed, she felt something hit her on her right side, the force throwing her back several feet. She fell, her head smacking the asphalt with a *crack*. She woke a minute or so later on the sidewalk, a handsome young man with shaggy fair hair peering down at her, concern etched deeply in the craggy lines of his face. At the edge of the street beside them sat a yellow cab, its engine still running and the driver’s door hanging open. More than slightly taken aback, Carolyn stared up at him. “Are you all right, Ma’am?” he asked, looking slightly terrified. “You hit your head pretty hard; I’m so sorry, I didn’t even see you, but that’s no excuse. I wasn’t sure, but, you know, I’m going to call an ambulance-” “No!” Carolyn snapped, sitting up. “I- I need to go, I have- I really need to go.” She struggled to her feet, ignoring his attempts to help her and snatching up her briefcase from the filthy sidewalk. Oh, she could only imagine how horribly dirty she looked right at that moment. “Thank you for your assistance,” she said over her shoulder, pausing for a second to shake off the sudden dizziness that had come over her suddenly. All she could think was that she was going to be late, and then she wouldn’t get her promotion, resulting in her having to work in a position for which she was far over-qualified for another six months, if she would ever get another shot at moving up after this. Her boss was a bit strict, to say the least. Behind her, she didn’t notice the young man watching after her, before sliding back into the driver’s seat of his cab and moving on. Needless to say, after the cab had hit her, she was rather late to her meeting. Her boss had not been pleased when she had gone up in front of a very important client looking as though she’d been hit by a cab, which she had, in fact. Yet, somehow, her boss was more concerned with her late arrival and disheveled appearance to listen to excuses. Her head pounded far too much to make many, anyway, and she simply let him berate her, taking the abuse. Perhaps it was the jack-hammering sensation in her skull, but she didn’t have the energy to argue. Of course, since her presentation had gone about as well as could have been expected, considering the circumstances, the advertising firm she worked for had not gotten the commission. After work, she came home and poured herself a shot of whiskey, planning on getting herself as drunk as humanly possible. She had just sat down with the TV remote and her shot glass when someone knocked on her apartment door. With an aggravated sigh, she stood and went over to open it, her annoyance showing plainly on her face. A woman about her own age was standing there with a friendly smile on her face. Carolyn sighed. “I’m not buying anything, I’m not converting, and I don’t give money to charities.” She starts to shut the door, but the woman puts a hand on it, keeping it open. “I’m sorry,” she said with a grin. “I’m Jane. I live next door. I was wondering if perhaps you had some coffee I could borrow?” Her eyes almost seemed to twinkle when she spoke, and Carolyn couldn’t help it. She smiled back; her neighbor’s good humor was infectious. “Um… of course, come on in,” she said, stepping back to let the other woman into the foyer. Jane looked around, seemingly impressed. “Wow, would you look at that,” she said, brows raised. “I love all of your decorations; it looks so polished and lovely. And clean,” she added, seemingly as an afterthought. Carolyn smiled distractedly over her shoulder. She reached up to get down her jar of coffee, handing it to her neighbor, who took it with a smile. “Thank you so much,” Jane said gratefully. “I didn’t notice I was running so low.” “If you don’t mind me asking,” Carolyn said hesitantly as she showed her neighbor back to the door, “what do you need coffee for at nine o’clock at night?” Jane shrugged, walking across the hall and opening her door. Carolyn raised her brows; apparently her neighbor hadn’t felt the need to lock up when she’d left. Of course, she’d only come across the hall, but still… burglaries happened all the time in the city. Jane turned, though, before she went back into her apartment, looking at Carolyn speculatively. “Would you like to have a cup with me?” She smiled reassuringly when Carolyn looked undecided. “You look like you could use a friend right now, dear.” Carolyn debated, but after a minute, she nodded. She could use someone to talk to… and suddenly, drinking alone didn’t seem quite as attractive as it had a few minutes before. Jane proved to be an avid listener, and when she offered her opinions on Carolyn’s problems, Carolyn was impressed by her insight. The night went by quickly, and after staying up, talking and laughing for half the night, the two women fell asleep in Jane’s living room, Carolyn in the huge easy chair and Jane stretched out on the couch. Over breakfast at a tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurant Carolyn had never heard of, the two women continued their conversation of the night before. “So… you haven’t had a man for two years?” Jane asked disbelievingly. “I don’t see how you did it. It would drive me crazy.” Carolyn shrugged, although there was a certain amount of wistfulness in her expression. “I don’t know… I guess I just haven’t had time. I’ve worked so hard over the past few years, trying to be the best so my boss will notice me… It’s taken over my life, in more ways than one.” Jane shakes her head. “Well, you need to give yourself a break, you know?” She takes a big bite of her eggs. “It won’t kill you, and relaxing some will probably improve the quality of your work, anyway.” She points her fork at Carolyn, blatantly talking with her mouth full and making her new friend laugh. “Besides, this boss of yours seems like a royal asshole. You don’t have to take crap from anyone, even him.” “That’s the problem, though,” Carolyn said with a sigh. “I do. He has total control over whether I even keep my job. Especially after yesterday,” she added dejectedly. Jane shrugged. “That was totally out of your control. How were you supposed to help getting hit by a cab? You were hurrying to get to your boss’ stupid meeting, anyway.” “It’s a nice thought, but he doesn’t see it that way,” Carolyn said after a minute. Then she laughed a little, sadly. “I love my job, you know? But sometimes I wonder if maybe I should just give it up. It’s too much, sometimes.” “’Course it is,” Jane said, nodding in agreement. “Especially since you never take the time to sit back and enjoy yourself. Me,” she said pompously, chin in the air, “I… am a writer. Which means that as long as I make my deadlines and they like that I’ve written, they don’t give a shit how I spend my time.” Carolyn shook her head. “I’m sure there’s more to it than that.” Jane shot her a look, grinning. “Of course. But the point is, I’m doing something that I love and enjoy. You might love your job, but it doesn’t look like you’re enjoying it very much.” Carolyn just shrugged. She didn’t know. She had thought that she had everything in her life all sorted out, but lately she hadn’t been so sure. Jane drags her out of her brooding with a smile. “Hey, don’t worry about it. It’ll work itself out; you’ll see.” That first weekend went by so quickly that Carolyn barely remembered that she had to go to work on Monday and meet her maker, so to speak. It had been so nice to just relax and spend time with a friend for a few days; she’d forgotten how much she’d used to enjoy that. Since she’d gotten her job at her firm, there hadn’t been much time for socializing. Still, Monday arrived and she went back to her usual schedule of work, work, work, and for a change, more work. Even so, during brief moments when she actually had time to think, she found herself remembering what a good time she’d had over the weekend, and on a whim, she invited Jane over for pizza on Thursday night. “So what do you do for fun?” Jane asked, already on her third slice to Carolyn’s one. Carolyn laughed. “Hell if I know anymore,” she said, taking another swig of beer. She thought for a moment, remembering those times in college when she’d actually had the opportunity to have fun. How far away they seemed. “I used to read a lot,” she says after a minute, smiling. “I must have gone through half the library while I was at school, and for a university, that’s saying something.” She shrugs. “I just haven’t had the time, just like I haven’t had time for everything else.” “Or you haven’t made the time,” Jane said, raising a brow and pointing the neck of her beer bottle across the table at Carolyn. “You haven’t made the time to do the things you want. Which isn’t a good thing. I’m not saying you haven’t accomplished a lot,” she added, talking over Carolyn when her friend goes to open her mouth, “But it really is time to do things for you, not for work or anything else. For you.” Carolyn was surprised how quickly she’d come to trust Jane. Her neighbor had a way of looking at things that was completely opposite from her own, and it made for some interesting conversation. Everything about the two women seemed to be different. Carolyn’s apartment was decorated very sparingly, with tasteful, modern furniture and soothing colors. Jane’s, on the other hand, looked something like an old antiques shop, with framed pictures she’d taken all over the world, old wallpaper and clutter lying everywhere. And yet she was completely comfortable and utterly content, and Carolyn envied her desperately. She did get a shock, though, when she went over one Saturday morning to see if her friend wanted brunch, and it wasn’t Jane who answered the door. A tall, half-naked man in a bath towel gave her an odd look as she peered up at him. “Er… is Jane here?” she asked tentatively, and his eyes widened in understanding. “Yeah, she’s in the shower. You want me to get her?” he asked, turning to go, but Carolyn shook her head, bright red now. “No, no, that’s all right,” she said, turning to go back to her own room. “I’ll… I’ll just stop by later.” That night, as they walked down Broadway, just people-watching, Carolyn had to ask. “Um, who was that guy in your apartment this morning? The one… in the towel.” Jane looked blank for a minute, and then she laughed, shrugging. “Oh, that’s just Pete. I met him last night down at the bar.” Carolyn blinked for a few seconds, then managed, “You just ment him last night? And you spent the night with him?” “We slept together, if that’s what you meant,” Jane said, stifling laughter at the look on her friend’s face. “But… but you didn’t know him! He could have had a disease, or something!” Bright red now, Carolyn huffed. “I just can’t… that was very irresponsible, Jane.” “Relax,” Jane said, unable to hold back her laughter anymore. “It’s just sex, and we used protection. There’s nothing for you to worry about, mom.” Carolyn rolled her eyes. “I can’t do that. Just pick up men like that. I don’t know how you do it.” “What, ask him to come home with you?” “No, just… flirting in general. I was never very good at it.” Pushing a strand of blond hair out of her face, Carolyn looked down at the ground as they walked. “I could never seem to connect with anyone. You make it seem so easy.” Jane just sighed, putting an arm around her shoulders. “That’s just because you haven’t found the right one yet. But you will.” She smiled knowingly. “Trust me. It’ll happen.” “Well, thank you, Miss Omniscient,” Carolyn muttered dryly, although she was smiling back by that point. Jane just shrugged, not replying. “You know,” Carolyn said one rainy afternoon, in the middle of an old movie marathon, “we always talk about me. Why is that?” Jane looked up at her and shrugged. “Not much to tell about me, really. You know it all, dear.” Carolyn shook her head stubbornly. “That’s not true.” She paused for a moment, thinking. “I mean, I know that you’ve traveled all over the place, I know that you’re from Milwaukee, I know that you’re a writer… but all the things we talk about, specific things, about my past and everything… You never talk about those things for yourself.” Jane stared at the TV. “There’s not much to say. It’s over and done with.” “What is?” Carolyn asked, confused. “What’s over? Your life certainly isn’t. And you told me yourself that your past is what makes you the person you are, right? So what happened in your past that you don’t want to talk about?” Jane didn’t reply, and Carolyn just stares at her for a minute before giving up, turning to look out the window at the rain tapping against the glass. Somehow, she’s not in the mood for movies anymore. “My father had a mistress. My mother was never a stable person, and when she discovered my father’s betrayal… she shot him. As he was coming through the door, home late ‘from work’ again.” Jane’s voice had a dull tone, as if she was talking about someone else’s life instead of her own. “And then she turned the gun on herself.” Carolyn stared at her, eyes wide, before she slowly got up off from the couch and sank down onto the floor next to her friend, who was looking off into the distance unseeingly. She wrapped her arms around Jane’s shoulders, squeezing gently. “I’m sorry I pushed,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have. It’s… it’s your life, not mine.” Jane shook her head slowly. “I don’t talk about it, much. But… I’m glad you know,” she says quietly. Carolyn just nodded, and the two of them sat there for quite a while, one of them lost in memories and the other trying not to think at all. “I don’t show people my writing, as a rule,” Jane said quietly one night over beer and pizza, which had become their Saturday night tradition. “I don’t know why. It just seems like… I don’t know. I don’t want them to judge me.” “But you publish it,” Carolyn said slowly, taking another sip of her beer. “A lot of people read it then.” “That’s different,” Jane negated, shaking her head. “I don’t know who the person is, really, who’s reading it. They’re just a blank face in my head. You, you I know. I hide the stuff, for crying out loud. I don’t even want to look at it.” “That’s just weird,” Carolyn stated, getting up and grabbing another slice of pizza. “It’s not weird,” Jane insisted. “It’s not. I keep them under the loose floorboard in the bedroom. That way, if I’m ever robbed, no one can sell them and make money off of them, and I don’t have to see them.” “Why don’t you send them to the publisher?” Carolyn asked curiously. “Maybe I will, if I feel like it someday,” Jane said, shrugging. A few weeks later, Carolyn was walking slowly home from work, when she paused, glancing up at the public library. She passed it every day, but never had the time to go in. Well, Jane said she needs to do things for herself, right? And even if she doesn’t have the time to read a book, at least she can browse for a little while. It’s not like she has big plans for the night, anyway. She was meandering through the stacks, lost in her browsing, when suddenly, someone ran smack into her and a veritable rain of books fell down from the skies, or so it seemed. In reality, it was a rather tall man carrying a large stack of books. Or at least, he had been carrying them. Most of them were covering Carolyn by this point. “Are you all right?” the man asked frantically, helping to her feet. “I am so sorry, I’m just… well…” He grinned sheepishly. “I guess there’s really no excuse for being a total moron, is there?” Carolyn couldn’t help it; he looked so apologetic that she had to laugh a little. “It’s all right.” She sobered, still peering up at him. “Are you all right? You look like you’re about to hyperventilate.” “I’m fine,” he mumbled, turning red now, and he backed away quickly, books gathered up once more. “Um, sorry again.” With that, he was gone, and Carolyn stared after him, still smiling. Half an hour later, she had an armful of books, and she decided it was time to leave, before she’d decide to bring the entire library home with her. When she went to check out her books, though, the same guy who had knocked her over was at the desk, and she grinned at him. “Is it safe to come near you, now?” she asked, raising a brow. He smiled, shaking his head. “I don’t know, you might want to keep an eye on me.” He handed her back her library card, and then paused for a second. “Hey, um, I’m Ben. You know, so you know who to sue for your injuries,” he added with a shy grin. Slightly taken aback, she smiled back. “I’m Carolyn.” She turned to leave, but then faced him again, still pleasantly surprised. “I was nice to…er… run into you, I suppose.” He laughed. “Likewise.” When she got back, Carolyn immediately knocked on Jane’s door, but there was no answer. Sighing, she shrugged and went back into her own apartment, still smiling happily to herself. After two weeks of showing up at the library nearly every day, Ben finally asked Carolyn out on a date. They went out to dinner, got spectacularly drunk, and woke up together in Carolyn’s bed the next morning. And as she told Jane that night over their traditional cup of coffee, the night before had been amazing. She had never felt so free in her life. Of course, she reminded herself, this was a one-time thing. She would never be so reckless again. and yet, despite her promises to herself, Ben kept coming over, and she continued to go to the library every day, sleeping at his apartment occasionally, as well. It seemed strange, how fast the months seemed to fly by, almost as if she was in a dream. But she’d never been so happy before, so she didn’t question it. It was another rainy afternoon, a Sunday this time, when Jane looked out of her window living room window and smiled, seeing Carolyn down on the street, kissing Ben goodbye. With a slightly sad sigh, she turned back to her writing, nodding to herself. She’d been taken aback by her neighbor’s stiffness and apparent inability to relax the first time she’d met her, but after all the time they’d spent together… she rather thought Carolyn had come quite a long way. And all too soon it would be time to move on, whether she liked it or not. She was almost finished with her work in New York, she thought with another sigh, glancing down at the papers in front of her. Soon enough she’d be gone, and Carolyn would have to fend for herself. But she was sure her friend would be fine, now that she’d come into her own a bit more. Her boss seemed rather taken aback the day she showed up with a complete report finished even before he’d asked her to do it. He was impressed enough that he agreed to let her propose another sample idea to the same client she’d frightened away before. Carolyn was a wreck the night before her big meeting. Ben came over, pretending to be her audience, but all he really served to do was distract her. But perhaps that was a good thing. The next morning, after a ‘good luck’ cup of coffee with Jane and one last kiss from Ben, she set off down the sidewalk, once again hurrying to a meeting. Her heels clicking against the sidewalk rhythmically, she made a point to wait until the ‘Walk’ light goes on at the intersection. Her office building came into sight, and she glanced down to make absolutely sure she had everything, when suddenly she looked up just in time to see someone barreling in her path, knocking her to the ground. Her head hit the sidewalk, and everything went black for a moment. She was in Jane’s apartment, sitting on her friend’s bed as she packed. “Where are you going?” she asked, suddenly worried, as Jane put the last of her books into a cardboard box and shut the lid. “I have business to take care of,” Jane said quietly, not looking at Carolyn, who dropped her eyes to the floor. “But… I’ll miss you,” she said softly. Sighing, Jane sat down on the bed next to her. “I’ll miss you, too, dear. Believe me, I wish I didn’t have to go, but I don’t have a choice.” “Why not?” Carolyn asked stubbornly. “You’re a writer; you always said that meant you could work wherever you wanted. Why can’t you stay here in New York?” She was well aware that she sounded like a petulant child, but she couldn’t help it. She really didn’t want her friend to leave; she couldn’t imagine living in their building without Jane. The other woman shook her head. “Not this time. I don’t have a choice,” she said softly. “I promise, though, I’ll still keep an eye on you. I’ll visit; you can’t get rid of me that easily.” Carolyn laughed sadly. “Well, if you promise, I guess I can let you go,” she said graciously, and Jane chuckled. “Thank you, dear. I do appreciate it.” She turned her head to look out the window. “You remember when I showed you my stories?” Carolyn nodded slowly, not sure what that has to do anything. But before she could ask, Jane touched her forehead. “Wake up, Carolyn.” She opened her eyes, blinking at the disturbing sense of déjà vu, and stared up into familiar eyes. “Ben?” she said hoarsely, her brow furrowed in confusion. He looked down at her, apparently confused. “I’m sorry, ma’am, do I know you?” Carefully, he helped her to sit up. “Are you all right? That cab hit you pretty hard.” “What are you talking about, Ben?” Carolyn asked her supposed boyfriend, now aggravated. “I just saw you a minute ago, when I left. What’s the matter with you?” He looked a little nervous, and pulled her to her feet before taking a few steps back. “I think you have me confused with someone else, ma’am.” A few feet behind him, a tall young man brushed unruly blond hair from his eyes. He’s glad the lady looks as though she’s all right; perhaps that means she won’t sue him. He hopes so; he doesn’t have the money to pay for a lawsuit. “Stop it, Ben,” she ordered. “It’s me, Carolyn. And you’re Bed Davey; you work at the library, you like Monty Python, and your stomach is ticklish. See? I know you. Now stop all of this.” Eyes wide, Ben backed away. “Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t know you. Leave me alone.” Carolyn took a step forward to go after him, but then the traffic started to honk at her, and she glanced around, eyes wide. She’d been further along than this when whoever it was had knocked her over, hadn’t she? She shrugged, looking in the direction Ben had gone and resolving to call him later. At the moment, she had a meeting to handle. On her way there, she shakes her head a few times. She must have hit it harder than she’d thought. Despite her small problem on the way, Carolyn aced her presentation. After the new client had signed the commission, her boss actually shook her hand. “Well done, Miss Riley. Good work.” Her head had been up in the clouds for the remainder of her day, and it didn’t drop so much as an inch until she arrived home and realized that she didn’t have her keys. With a short curse, she stepped across the hall and knocked on Jane’s door; no answer. Slightly worried (her friend was almost always home at this time of day; the late afternoon hours were when she got the majority of her writing done), Carolyn shrugged, heading downstairs to find her landlord. She explained about that morning, leaving out the part about Ben. The only thing she could think of was that it had been part of some elaborate joke he’d been pulling. That would be just like him, the idiot. Wouldn’t it? The landlord let her into her apartment, and she smiled, thanking him. “I must have dropped my keys when I fell this morning. I’ll have new ones made.” He nodded, returning her smile with a friendly nod, but she stopped him for a second when he started to go. “Do you know Jane, across the hall? Is she really moving?” She sighed. “I’m going to miss her; we’ve become very good friends over the past few months.” Her landlord blinked. “That apartment’s empty,” he said, eyeing her strangely. “That’s impossible,” Carolyn said slowly. “I had coffee with her just this morning.” Her landlord shook his head. “No, the place has been empty since the last tenant died, about a year ago. Before you moved in, I think it was.” Carolyn stared at him in shock. “You’re lying.” The landlord shook his head again, moving across the hall and unlocking the door. “See for yourself.” She stepped past him into the other apartment, her eyes wide. Where were all of Jane’s things? Her furniture, her pictures, everything was gone, as if it had never been there in the first place. “But that’s impossible,” she whispered, looking taken aback. “I assure you, I am telling the truth,” her landlord said quietly. “The last tenant was named Jane, though, if I recall correctly. A Ms. Jane Cooper. She was a writer, I think. Died of leukemia, a little over a year ago. Yes, that’s right.” He nodded to himself. “A shame. I’ve read her books; she had talent, that girl. Pity it all went to waste.” “A pity,” Carolyn echoed distantly, still staring into the empty living room. Somehow, nothing made any sense. How was this possible? She’d just spoken to Jane… just before she’d left for her meeting… When she’d kissed Ben goodbye… but he hadn’t remembered any of it, either, had he? “Do you think you could give me a minute?” she asked the man quietly, and he nodded. “Why don’t I just leave the key here with you,” he suggested. “You can bring it down to my room when you’re finished.” Carolyn nodded, taking the proffered skeleton key, and waited until the landlord shut the door behind him before she moved into what had once been Jane’s bedroom, testing the floorboards until she found the loose one. It only took a minute, really; she knew Jane’s apartment as well as she knew her own. Prying up the loose board, she reached down into the hole, ignoring the dust and dirt brushing against her fingers. She grasped the corner of the box and managed, after a moment’s effort, to grab a hold of it and lift it from the small space, blowing dust from the lid and sneezing. Inside was a small stack of manila envelopes, labeled with Jane’s large, loopy handwriting. Carolyn looked through them for a minute, utterly confused. She knew this. She knew exactly where the manuscripts had been, knew Jane’s writing, and yet according to her landlord, Jane Cooper had died before Carolyn had even moved into the building. It didn’t make any sense. And yet, her memories of Jane were as fresh as if they’d happened only hours before, which to her, they had. Later that evening, Carolyn sat at her computer, researching. It was true; Matthew Cooper had been shot by his wife, Lily, twenty years before, and his wife had then turned the gun on herself. They had been found by their daughter, who had survived them, Jane, then eight years old. She even read a few wrenching articles on Jane’s slow death of leukemia the year before, crying a little as she did so. Carolyn glanced at the manuscripts sitting on the table next to her laptop. The temptation was so great… but she held off. No, there was something else she had to do. The facts were irrefuatable. She stared at the date on her laptop. Where, a day before, or it had seemed before, it had read 3 March 2006, it now read 4 December 2005. As did the clocks on all of the sites she had checked. Somehow, she had been hit by a cab that morning and had dreamt four months of her life, but some of the things she had leanred in her dream had been true. She had no clue how or why that had happened, or even why she wasn’t more upset. Of course, she is; Ben’s panic that morning had scared her, but after realizing what had actually happened, she understood it, although that didn’t make it hurt any less. But before she could fix whatever the situation was with Ben, she had to help Jane. Feeling that this was something she needed to do, Carolyn walked through the front doors of one of New York’s publishing companies, looking very determined. Five minutes later, having explained to the receptionist what she carried with her, she sat in a rather large office opposite Patricia Harrow, editor. “So, how is it exactly that you came across these works?” Harrow asked, paging through the manuscripts, her brows slowly rising. “Jane was… a very good friend,” Carolyn said quietly. “She… left them to me, and I’ve… I’ve finally decided that the rest of the world should appreciate them as much as I have.” Harrow looked up at her, as if gauging her sincerity. Carolyn just stared back at her, not giving an inch. “I’ll need to have the authenticity of these checked, of course, but as Miss Cooper always preferred to write by hand, it should be fairly simple.” She looked closely at Carolyn. “Are you sure you want to do this? Once you sigh the contract, there is no going back, you understand.” “I’m well aware,” Carolyn said evenly. “And… I think Jane would have wanted me to do this.” Harrow nodded, turning her gaze back to the pages in front of her. One year later, Carolyn strolled down the street, her own personal copy of Jane’s newest, albeit posthumous, novel clutched in her hands. She had another copy with her, as well, and she stopped at the bottom of the library steps, steeling herself. And then she walked into the building. She’d been hoping that Ben would be back in the stacks or in an office, that she’d have time to gather her thoughts before seeing him. Unfortunately, there he was, right at the front desk, checking books back in. She stepped up to the counter, clearing her throat. He looked up and smiled in a businesslike yet friendly way. “Can I help you, ma’am?” Carolyn swallowed. All right, so he didn’t remember her. Good, that meant she could start with a clean slate for the third time. That thought disturbed her a little, and she brushed it aside, smiling back at Ben. “Um, yes, I was wondering if I could make a donation to the library?” She reached into her bag and pulled out her extra copy of Jane’s book. “I wanted to give this to you. Er, the library. It was written by a friend of mine, and I was hoping this way people could get a chance to read it.” Ben took the proffered book, glancing at the cover. His eyes widened. “This only just came out, am I right?” He glanced at a computer screen. “It’s listed to come in over the next few weeks or so, but… Are you sure you want to just give us this? It’s a brand new copy.” The hopeful look on his face almost made her laugh; for a moment, she experienced déjà vu once more. “It’s all yours.” He grinned at her, taking it carefully, and she smiled. “Um, Ben, right?” He nodded, raising his brows at her. She took another deep breath. “I owe you an apology. I… met you, last year, on the street outside.” She pointed, but he still looked confused. “I… I was very… mixed up that day, and I’m sorry if I… scared you.” Finally, after he stared at her for a long minute, understanding came over his face. “Oh, yeah, I remember. I… I’m sorry I ran away like that. You’d just been hit by a cab; of course you were mixed up.” She smiled. “It’s okay. I’m Carolyn, by the way.” She paused and, looking a little hesitant, added, “I was just wondering, would you be up for a pizza, maybe?” Ben blinked, then nodded, his smile widening, and something in Carolyn’s heart fell into place again. On Sunday morning, though, she left Ben sleeping at her apartment and took the bus out of the city, finally ending up at a small, private cemetery. She stood in front of Jane’s headstone for a long time, staring at the dates and remembering. After a while, though, she just smiled a little. “Thanks, dear,” she said quietly, and then, with a small shake of her head, walked away from the grave, the sunlight glinting on her hair. | 
