Not only was the Blue Goose the best restaurant on the Island, it was the only restaurant on the Island. That is, if you didn’t count the hot dog stand that ran from June through the end of August down at the ferry terminal. The owners of the Blue Goose wintered in Florida and had just reopened for the season.

Consequently, Sam and Per had the place virtually all to themselves.

"The service here should be excellent." Stated Per, looking about at all the empty tables.

"Don’t count on that." muttered Sam, who knew the proprietors.

He really is attractive, thought Sam as she sat back sipping her after dinner brandy and listening to Per talk about his recent travels across the country.

She is lovely both inside and out, thought Per, as he watched Sam laugh uproariously at one of his stories.

After dinner, they decided to go up to the old lighthouse on Hockamock Head.

Through silent, mutual agreement, Sam drove. She peered hard into the darkness as they went past Happy’s property, but she didn’t see any lights on. Happy strongly believed in the ‘early to bed and early to rise’ concept.

"Have you met Happy Joyce yet?" She asked Per, as they settled down onto a grassy spot by the cliff. It was a lovely night. The moon had climbed just high enough in the night sky to send long, shimmering threads bouncing vibrantly on top of the ocean waves.

"I have," replied Per, "he certainly is .......... different." He finished lamely, for lack of a better word.

"Different isn’t the word," chuckled Sam. "I’ve known him my entire life.

Believe it or not, he’s the one who first sparked my interest in astronomy. If it hadn’t been for Happy, I might never have left here and pursued my career."

"Of course," she said reflectively, "that might well have been all for the best."

Suddenly, her face had that same fragile, withdrawn look it had worn the very first time Per had met her. Wanting only to somehow give comfort, he reached over and pulled her to him. After spending some time sitting quietly in the calm refuge of his arms, Sam disengaged herself and slowly got to her feet.

"Come." She said, holding out her hand to him.

"Touch me here," she murmured, guiding his hand to her breast. Her rapid intake of breath told him that he had found the spot. Per couldn’t believe his senses.

She felt so good under him. I could lose myself in this woman, he thought. Never before had he felt so completely connected to another being. It was as if he’s always known her. And as if she had always been a part of him.

Sam was fully alive now and terrified by it. So many conflicting emotions were racing through her thoughts that she felt entirely overwhelmed by them all.

Better not to think at all .... just allow yourself to feel, she silently told herself. It had been so very long since she had given herself permission to feel

..... to need ....... to want .....

Much later, Per watched as she flicked her ash in the general direction of the ashtray on the bedside table. "Disgusting things." He commented. "Why don’t you quit?"

"Okay," Sam agreed amicably.

"When?" He asked, surprised at how easy that had been.

"Soon," she replied, lighting another.

Chapter 13

The next morning was glorious. A true precursor of summer. This was Happy’s favorite time of year. His old body didn’t ache as much in the warmer months.

"Course, you know what this means," he grumbled to Spike as they both munched their breakfast bacon, "damn tourists will be here again soon."

"Oh well," he said sensibly to his comrade, "can’t have the good without taking the bad, I suppose." He shoved the last of the bacon into his mouth and wiped his greasy hands on his pant legs. "Time to do the breakfast dishes, boy."

From the depths of the Chevy’s trunk Happy pulled a crumpled trash bag out and neatly disposed of the used paper plates. Cramming his ancient cap onto his head, he and Spike headed for Wanda’s place and their usual morning cup of coffee.

Sam leaned on the railing in the bow watching the water furiously churn under the running ferry. There was no denying it. She felt wonderful this morning.

Stealthily, she had showered and dressed as Per lay sleeping. She had barely made it to the early ferry to Bass Harbor on time. The few residents who were headed to their jobs on the mainland were just loading their vehicles when she had arrived.

Sam quickly became chilled in the early morning crossing. She climbed back into her car and turned the heater on full blast for a few minutes. Soon, all thoughts of last night departed as she started to focus on the meeting that lay ahead of her in Boston.

Sam was nervous. No about presenting her data but about what they would do with it. Unquestionably, she knew that both Washington and the military would be heavily represented at this afternoon’s conference. Would they consider these recent findings a possible breech of national security? Since discovering the findings earlier in the week, Sam had been totally caught up in the excitement and amazement of it all. Not once had she considered this a safety issue. God knows, she reasoned, that she of all people certainly had a right to be concerned. For the remainder of her life she would carry with her the emotional scars from her encounter with those faceless beings. However, Sam had no concrete evidence to prove that these recent signals were in any way related to what had happened to her. It’s a big universe out there, she thought sensibly.

Just because alien transmissions have been isolated and identified it certainly doesn’t mean that there is any danger of imminent harm. Okay, she warned herself, don’t start thinking like Kevin Dodge. That’s not a good way to make new friends.

Wanda groaned audibly as she sank into the kitchen chair across the table from Happy.

"Know who I was thinking about this morning, Hap?" She continued without waiting for an answer. "The English brothers."

Happy just sat there looking puzzled.

"Come on, Hap. You remember those boys ..... the twins, Millard and Milton English." It didn’t take much to get exasperated with Happy.

Immediately, Happy’s expression cleared. "Jesus, the English twins. Haven’t thought of those two in years. What the hell made you think of them, Wanda?"

"Don’t really know." shrugged Wanda, "must be getting old. I’m starting to spend a lot of time these days thinking back over my life and the people I’ve known."

She took a sip of her coffee. "Which twin was it, Hap, who had the problem? Do you remember?"

"Oh sure," replied Happy firmly, bobbing his head up and down. "That would be Milton. Never met anyone who could tuck it away like that boy could." He couldn’t help himself, there was admiration in his voice when he spoke. "Finally killed him in the end, though. Christ, his liver must have been completely pickled through and through."

They both sat silently for a few moments, then Happy said, "I was there the day they took Milton to the hospital on the mainland. Pronounced dead, he was, by the time the ferry docked at Bass Harbor. We got him loaded into the waiting ambulance and they were just about to slam the doors shut when old Milt sits straight up, sheet flying away from his face! "Bring rum, boys!" he yells, as they close the doors on him. Jesus, the driver of that ambulance almost shit himself!" Happy roared with laughter at the memory. "Damnedest thing I ever saw!

Course, Milton died for good on the way to the hospital."

Happy, his body practically doubled over from laughter, had tears streaming down his craggy face. He fished around in his back pant’s pocket for his handkerchief.

Finding it, he proceeded to blot his eyes and wipe the tears from his face.