"Did you see that flash of lightning?" A woman who was standing at the entrance to a log planked tavern asked.  I slid past the dark figure and paused near a neon sign flickering Red Beard Pub.

"Lightning?" I questioned in a dismissive tone plunging forward through a wall of cigarette smoke.

Clusters of people were spread throughout the dimly lit interior. Several pool tables stood in line along a lower level. I descended three steps and shuffled to the u shaped bar. My clothes had shifted once again, shifted and changed to match the style the others were wearing.

My comfortable shoes were replaced with boots that reminded me of something I wore as a child. Pointed tips that pinched my toes, rawhide stiff and thick. A jacket made of black imitation leather was preventing the midnight chill.

A single beam of aura surrounded a roughneck at the bar. I approached with caution, taking a seat near him. Instinctively, I realized he was the purpose of this trip.

"Hello." I managed above the racket of music and conversations surrounding me.

"Sorry lady, but you’re not my type. Too goody-goody if you know what I mean."

"Oh." I managed fighting off a burst of laughter. "You’ve got me all wrong."

He took an exaggerated swig from the diet cola in front of him. "You’re not from around here, are ya?"

"No, I’m not." I said.

"I can tell. What, r’ you a reporter snooping around for details about the pipeline? You can just find yourself the door ‘cause I’m not talking."

"It’s nothing like that, I assure you." I managed as he straightened up in his seat curious.

"I’m Wendell Sawyer, from Chicago." He extended a filthy hand, soot embedded within the lines and prints.

Trying to appear polite, I clenched his grip, fighting the urge to wipe the residue in my denims.

"Jeanne, Jeanne Wishgiven." I announced.

"There’s a funny name if I’ve ever heard one." He said busting up into a full gut moving laugh.

"Mr. Sawyer, are you the same Mr. Sawyer that has an ex-wife named Irene, two daughters, Penny and Grace, a spitfire named Travis?"

Wendell stood from his stool, his face appeared as if slapped with shock. "Yeah, how the heck did you know that?"

"Never mind. Your ex-wife has had a bit of misfortune and may be laid up for a while. She and your children could really use the child support that you owe them." I said studying his expression as it transformed from curiosity to red flushed anger.

"I don’t know who you’re working for, but I will not be intimidated to pay them a dime. She’s the one that kicked me out, she can just eat worms for all I care!"

"Mr. Sawyer." I whispered grabbing his reluctant hand. Wendell attempted to pull away, but I maintained an iron grip. Energy shifted and swayed and I forced it within him. I closed my eyes and showed him everything from my perspective. The shape of the house upon my arrival, the lack of food in the kitchen. The injured face of poor Irene. Penny, Grace and Travis before they were cleaned up. I opened his heart and placed his desperate family within.

"Oh my Lord." Wendell gasped.

"You have an obligation to help them. For once in your life, you must put their needs above your own!"

I released my power over Wendell.  He stood dumbstruck, as if at any moment he would burst into tears.

"Who are you?" He demanded.

"Never mind that. I’m here to make certain you do the right thing by your family."

Wendell paused, regaining his composure.

"Okay Miss Wishgiven, I will. I’ll take care of it first thing in the morning. No more fighting between me and Irene."

"You promise?" I asked.

"Yeah. For the record, I still love her you know? I don’t know why things fell apart like they did, I guess I’m not the faithful type." Wendell said in a mere whisper, it was obvious he was battling an overflow of emotion.

"Your kids could use some help right now. Call them, let them know you still care."

"Okay." He agreed, as I felt an uncontrollable draw to the entryway. A magnetic force propelled me forward, then flung me through the steel door.  In an instant I was catapulted through the sky leaving Alaska behind. Dim lights transformed into a single streak as I became the lighting.  In a blink I escaped, lunar beams illuminating the path ahead.

The mattress of the pull out sofa cushioned my landing. Leaving my clothes as they were, I nestled into the blankets and allowed my human form rest.

At sun up, a loud bell echoed throughout the home. I noticed Irene’s voice muffled through the floor. At first her tone was that of anger, then somehow she softened. A moment later, determined footsteps shifted on the staircase above, then a tap became persistent from the bedroom door.

"Jeanne?" She asked prying the door a crack.

Slowly I became awake as she slid into the room.  A broad grin lit up her bruised face.

"Who are you?" She asked in dismay.

I sat up in bed and didn’t respond.

"That was Wendell on the telephone. I need to find a Western Union today, he’s wiring me ten thousand dollars. He said a young woman named Jeanne Wishgiven approached him at a bar in Anchorage last night. She made him understand what an idiot he truly was."

"Don’t ask." I said sidestepping her curiosity. "Only know that I am a friend."

Tears began to form in creases of her eyes.  "He promises to keep up on his payments now. In fact he’s signing up to have the money taken from his paychecks directly and sent to me."
"I’m glad to hear that." I replied.

Changing the subject, I asked, "Are the kids up?"

"Yes. They’re in the kitchen eating leftover pizza." Irene managed.

"I need to get around. There is so much to do today. Irene, please rest up, I’m uncertain how long, exactly I can stay."

"So you’re not from around here then?" She inquired with her stare sharp and curious.

"Well, I am and I’m not."

"Thanks." She whispered, realizing I was not offering an explanation for any of it. Giving up, she headed towards the door.

If Irene only knew I was the reason that she had her accident. I was responsible and now I had the obligation to fix everything, it was the decent thing to do.

After the wonderful experience of cold pizza for breakfast, I gathered up the children and we took a cab to the local Stock-it Super Grocery. My eyes could not believe the variety of foods this store was distributing. There was an aisle with every cookie imaginable. Wafers, chocolate cream sandwich, chocolate chip, frosted oatmeal to name only a few. Soups were available in a can as well as individual portions in a box! Options were at every turn. Wheat flour or white flour? Three types of milk. Cholesterol appeared to be a significant health factor. Low cholesterol was listed on nearly every label. Displays and advertisements lined the ceiling, companies screaming for the consumer to try their product.

After filling an entire grocery cart, I sent Penny back for a second. We worked as a team in an attempt to restock the vacant shelves of their home.

Two hundred and thirty five dollars later, we wheeled the carts outdoors and the cab driver assisted  in loading the trunk. Due to the lack of space, we had to place food at everyone’s feet. Travis held a package of chocolate covered mini doughnuts, his eyes wide with anticipation.

Gracie hugged the ice cream in a tight embrace even though it was beginning to melt. The only thing that Penny seemed excited about was a small package of chocolates we picked up at the checkout counter.

Upon return to the house, we continued our team effort in the task of filling the cupboards and ice box.

I finally caved in allowing the children their special treats as I finished unloading the last bag.

The house became uncharacteristically silent as the kids devoured their sweets. For that reason alone I dropped several cans of ravioli as the front doorbell chimed.

"Someone’s here!" Travis said as he pulled his fifth doughnut and dunked it into some milk.

"You kids sit, I’ll get the door."

I hurried through the house, not once peeking at who was standing on the front porch. Imagine my shock, imagine my surprise to find none other than Stan.

"Hello." He said, pushing past me into the front room.

"You can’t be here." I said eyeing the kids at the kitchen table, adrenaline pumping.

"I’ve been running all over town looking for you! Mostly grocery stores. I was in the soda aisle today studying root beer bottles and who saunters past with three adorable children?" He said bursting with happiness.

"You’ve got to go Stan!" I whispered, hoping the children would not realize who or what I was.

"Are those your kids?" He asked waving as Travis and Gracie returned the gesture. Penny appeared none too thrilled for the stranger in her home. She was protective of her family, with good reason.

"No. I’m on assignment... You need to leave AND NOW. Don’t call me." I said, "I’ll call you."

Stan flopped down on the sofa. "Ridiculous Jeanne. I’m not going anywhere. I’m a bit surprised you didn’t ask about my meeting with Nora."
"I know all about that." I said whispering, but my tone snippy. "You weren’t at all interested."

His jaw fell open. "That’s right." He said with a sly grin. "I wasn’t. I felt there was no reason. You see, after you left so abruptly I got to thinking about you. You’re so perfect Jeanne: sweet, old fashioned, considerate."

"You forgot to mention that I’m not really human Stan. I’m more of a spirit without a port of residence. It would never work. You’ve got to move on, PLEASE!"
Stan shook his head in despair. "I’ll catch you Jeanne. I’ll continue to go to every grocery store until I find the bottle that you’re trapped in. When I do, I know what my wish will be."

"Please Stan, you must go!" I said realizing he wasn’t going anywhere.

"I’ll simply wish for you to be my wife. A permanent committment, not just one date, but a date for a lifetime." He seemed proud of his idea.

"NO Stan. It seems there are limits to what is given. I’m certain that your wish is something that would never be allowed. What you need to do now is appreciate the bottle that you had and realize you may never have an opportunity like that again."

"Just what are you saying Jeanne?"

"I’m saying that even if you located my bottle again, I would refuse your request. You see Stan, I’m dead, I have been for some time now. You need to find someone among the living, someone from your world."  Upon my admission, I gazed about overwrought with worry.  The children were out of earshot, but Irene had swung into the sitting room.  Her eyes lit as she gazed upon Stan, an instant connection.

"Hello." Irene grinned, clutching his hand and smiling back.

If ever there was an instance of dumb luck, this was one of them.

"You work in the Smithfield Building downtown." Stan said as a matter of fact.

"That’s right." Irene managed.

"You’re on the sixth floor in the corner office."

"I’m a secretary. That office isn’t mine, it’s my bosses."

"No wonder you have such a nice way about you." Stan said with surprising confidence.

I inched away and returned to the kitchen. "Who’s that?" Penny asked.

"Stan the window washer." I replied.

With that, my image faded away. In the thrust forward through the layers of time, I could see the future of 3157 Antler Avenue. Five lonely hearts coming together to form a close tie, a family. Stan became the father the children never had and the children along with Irene became the center of Stan’s world. I could imagine Granny saying that all’s well that ends well. In this instance it was true. All was repaired within my universe and I was allowed to continue on.