A young black girl smiled at Laura as soon as she saw her. “May I help you?” she asked; the epitome of politeness.

Laura smiled.  “I’d like to see Gwynne Smart.”

“Is she expecting you?” the girl asked, already picking up the phone.

“No,” Laura admitted, “I’m an old…” she hesitated slightly before saying, “friend.”

“May I ask your name?”

“Laura Har— Scott.  Laura Scott.”  She wasn’t sure if Gwynne would recognize the Hardy name.

The receptionist nodded, pressed a number and then spoke into the phone.  Not to be rude, Laura moved away from the desk a step and glanced around the very tastefully decorated office. It definitely spoke of a love for horses and, more particularly, a love for equestrians, as there were numerous pictures adorning the walls of show jumpers, some black and white – obviously vintage – and some not so old.

A small bronze statue of a stallion proudly rose up from the centre of the glass coffee table that dominated the waiting area.

As her gaze flittered across the pictures, one in particular caught her attention and Laura moved to take a closer look; she never noticed the door behind the receptionist desk open, or the tall, dark haired woman moving towards her.

The picture was one of a much younger Laura and her horse, Heart, taken a couple months before the derby accident, at a competition in Tennessee.

“It really was a shame what happened,” a woman’s voice commented from right behind her, startling Laura as she whirled around and came face to face with Gwynne Smart for the first time since her brother’s funeral!

“Gwynne,” Laura whispered, feeling like she was looking at a ghost. It was as if the taller girl had also died that day….

The other woman held out her hand formally to shake Laura’s.  “It’s been a long time.”  She turned and indicated the open doorway. “Come into my office…we can talk.”

Laura started to follow her, shaken by both seeing the picture and of seeing this girl…woman, she corrected as Gwynne was no longer a seventeen-year-old, strong-headed child.  Neither of them was, anymore.

“That picture surprised me,” Laura admitted a moment later as she sat down in one of the large, comfortable chairs that were placed in front of a beautiful oak desk. Gwynne sat down behind the desk.

“Why?” the dark-haired woman asked, her large doe eyes curious, “because it’s of you…or because I still have it?”

“A bit of both,” Laura admitted, as she appraised the woman sitting across from her.

Tall, with long black hair, big, brown eyes and clear alabaster skin, she was as beautiful today as she had been as a teenager, and it was very easy to see why Paul had been smitten with her.

Laura felt a sadness tug at her heart as she looked at Gwynne.  Paul had told her that while he did care deeply for the girl, he wasn’t sure if she was the ‘one’. They had spent a lot of time butting heads…but in all honestly, she had no idea what would have happened – Paul could be a force unto himself and when he did love something, he loved it passionately, regardless of flaw.

And then a strange irony hit her hard and Laura had to blink back her shock, for it had never occurred to her until now, but Gwynne Smart could easily have been Iola Morton if the dark haired pixie had lived!

Yes, this woman was taller, but there was no mistaking the similarity! It was eerie!

Laura felt a cold shiver course through her body as she thought about how much her younger son’s life paralleled her brother’s – only in an exactly opposite way…Joe lost Iola; Gwynne lost Paul….

“I still miss him.”  Gwynne’s quiet admission startled Laura out of her thoughts, and she sighed.  So did she.

Picking up a picture that she kept on the desk, the dark-haired woman looked at the photo for a few moments before passing it to Laura.  The frame was simple but elegant; however, it was the photo inside that took Laura’s breath away – it was Paul. The smiling face peering at her caught her completely off guard.  All the blood drained from Laura’s face, leaving her feeling lightheaded and sick.

It was his last high school photo, and it caught the very essence of his vitality, and charm, renewing the ache that she lived with every day.  Her heart constricted and she felt his loss as freshly as if it just happened.

Clearing her throat, Laura passed back the picture with some reluctance, and then just asked, “Then why did you write this?” Reaching into her purse, she pulled out the crumpled-up magazine, and laid it on the desk in front of Gwynne.

The other woman looked down at the article and sighed.  “Because it’s true.”

* * *

Joe followed his brother up to Frank’s room and then lazed on his nicely made bed, ignoring the look the older boy gave him for mussing it up.

“Small world, huh?” he mused, thinking about his mom, his uncle and this girlfriend who seemed to just show up out of the blue, this nice hot summer Saturday.

Their father had made grilled cheese sandwiches and salad for supper and while they ate, he had told them what little he knew about Gwynne – tactfully leaving out any mention of the funeral blowup. There was no reason to bring up that bit of unpleasantry!

Afterwards, he had told the boys he was going by the precinct to talk to Chief Collig, and then left before they went upstairs.

“Yeah, real small,” Frank said, lost in his own thoughts.

Joe opened his mouth to tell his brother about their father’s old case; still startled and somewhat puzzled over Fenton’s admittance about just dropping the case…when Frank spoke first.

“Speaking of small worlds, you’re never going to guess who I ran into this morning?”

“Callie?” Joe ventured, although Frank had already told him about seeing her.

“Nope…well yeah, but you already knew that,” the dark-haired teen grinned, pretty sure that Joe would never get it, but enjoying making him try anyway.

Before the younger boy could make another guess, the door bell rang.

“Saved by the bell,” Joe laughed as he pulled himself up off the bed.  “I’ll get it.”

As he trotted downstairs, he tried to think of someone obscure to guess….

Opening the front door, the smile froze on his face as he stared, in paralyzed shock, at the burly, blond-haired man who was standing there!

The man was equally surprised, and for a moment neither one spoke. 

And then the man grinned, widely, as he appraised the teen standing in front of him.  “My, my…little Joey has certainly grown up.”

Involuntarily, Joe shivered at the sound of his voice, as he felt a knot of cold fear in the pit of his stomach. It didn’t make sense though, because he knew this man….He was Coach Damien Iago; Frank’s former Little League coach!

“C-Coach Iago?”  he finally managed to stammer, as he fought a strong urge to just slam the door.  What the hell’s wrong with me? he wondered. This is Frank’s old coach….

“In the flesh,” the coach said, and then looked past Joe.  “Is your brother around?”

Joe just continued to stare at him, saying nothing, and the man frowned at him, his voice tinged with concern. “Joey…is there something wrong?”

Behind them, the blond teen heard his brother coming downstairs to see who was at the door.

“D-don’t call me Joey,” he said, swallowing hard, as he continued to just stare at the big man.  His mouth was suddenly so dry; each word had been a chore….

“Hey Coach,” Frank greeted, and then frowned at his brother, alarmed by how pale and upset he looked.  “Joe?  What’s wrong?” 

At the sound of Frank’s voice, Joe turned, brushed past his brother and then bolted from the room without saying anything!

“Is he all right?” Joe heard the coach ask Frank as he took the stairs two at a time.

Racing into this room, the distraught teen locked both the door to the hallway and the door to the joint bathroom that he and Frank shared, before throwing himself down on his bed and diving under the blankets – suddenly chilled to the bone….

Chilled and terrified even in the stifling August heat…