Some Other Beginning's End
By Shotzette




Hello!

Here's the first three chapters to my very first L&S fanfic. I haven't thought of a title yet, and it's incomplete. Any and all feedback, comments, and critiques are welcome. It's currently rated PG-13 for adult content, and I may have to bump it up to R for explicit content in later chapters. L/L 'shipper fic. Warning: way dark and angsty. Character death.

Please do not archive this story or reference it to a search engine such as Google without my written permission.

Thanks,

Shotzette


This fanfic was written purely for amusement and is not intended to infringe upon the copyrights of Paramount, ABC, or anyone else. Copyright 2003 by Kath.

Some Other Beginning's End

By Shotzette
Rated R





Laverne didn't know long she had knelt in the cold damp soil. Two months after the worst day of her life, the truth was emblazoned in three inch print for all the world to see:

Frabrizio Antonio De Fazio
1908-1971
Beloved Father

The inscription sat there taunting her, proof positive that she was alone.

"I'm sorry, Pop. I'm so sorry that I couldn't afford to take you back to Milwaukee to be next to Mama.." Overcome by sobs, she couldn't finish. She sat there in silence, inwardly cursing herself for not being able to give her father his final companionship with her mother, back in St. Catherine's Cemetary in Milwaukee.

In the beginning , it was easy to hate Edna.

Edna. The woman who left him. The woman who was supposed to take care of him til death they did part. Edna, who only showed up after the funeral to file her claim as the sole owner of the Cowboy Bill franchise.

"Well", Laverne thought bitterly, "the joke was on her."

The last several months of her father's illness had wiped out his savings. The franchise hadn't been properly managed in months, due mostly to her father's stubborn pride. He hadn't acknowleged he was sick, and much more, he wouldn't have wanted Laverne to know, even if he had. He spent most of his energy and time covering up his failing health, instead of managing the restaurant. Between pilfering employees, fickle patrons, the escalating franchise fees to Cowboy Bill, Inc., and the evergrowing competition, Cowboy Bill's, Burbank was further in the red than the Soviet Union. Laverne was briefly happy that her father's deteriorating mental health had prevented him from knowing he had nothing left to give his only child. That truth alone would have killed him.

She suddenly glanced up at the setting sun. Time to go, she thought. It was still hard to beleive how the (to them) glamorous Burbank neighborhood she and Shirl had fallen in love with nearly seven years ago had gone downhill. She no longer felt safe walking home alone at night, or waiting at the bus stop. Maybe it was always this bad, she wondered, maybe I just didn't have the time to notice before.

Time. She'd had plenty of that in the last year and a half. She hadn't been able to find a job since her Pop's death. Her days began when ever she rolled out of bed, and culminated at the employment office where she scanned the daily ads as she picked up her check.

Shirl would know what to do, she thought to herself, she'd sing that song about the ant and the rubber tree plant, then we'd figure out what we could do to get out of this jam.

Then again, maybe even Shirley couldn't fix this one. Her last letter was filled with tidbits about her life with Walter in Germany, and their son, Michael. Although Shirley had expressed concern and sympathy about her Pop's illness, it wasn't the same as her being here.

Oh sure, Shirley had called her every Sunday like they promised. At first.

Then it became every other Sunday. Then, one Sunday a month.

Alternately, Shirley had blamed Walter's work schedule and the demands of caring for a toddler. Shirley then suggested they phone each other *only* for the important stuff.

Funny, Laverne mused. She still thought Shirley was important enough to call.

The more she dwelled on it, the more Laverne began to feel like an old toy. Tucked away and forgotten. She had called Shirley the night her father died. Shirley had been out, but Walter promised he would tell her right away and have her call Laverne back. Laveren didn't receive a call for three days. To top it all off, Shirley didn't even seem angry that Walter *forgot*".

Then again, Laverne reasoned to herself, maybe Walter wasn't the one who *forgot*.

Laverne rose unsteadily to her feet, ignoring the mild dizziness. To keep the apartment, she had started skipping meals so she could stretch her meager unemployment checks further. Tears welled in her eyes as she remembered her father's words, "You'll never go hungry as long as your Pop's in the restaraunt business, Muffin." Laverne remembered all the pizzas she and Shirl had mooched back in Milwaukee during Shotz's frequent layoffs. The hadn't realized how good they had it back then.

Laverne walked out of the tiny, decrepit cemetary and started the long, and lonely, walk home. As the cars whizzed by her, she drew her worn cardigan tighly around her thinning frame. All of those years she strived to be a size 5.... She now hated the skelatal visiage that greeted her in the mirror.

Fortunately, the bus had just pulled into the stop when she arrived. As she dropped her dime into the box by the driver, she glanced into the dead and soulless eyes of her fellow passengers before taking her seat. When did everyone start to look like zombies? she wondered to herself. Laverne rested her temple against the cold glass of the window as she tried to distract herself from thinking about her throbbing headache.

Suddenly, she felt a large hand clutch her shoulder.

Laverne lunged forward, clutching her purse tightly as she reached for the emergency rope pull above the window. $7.82 is all I got, she thought frantically, I can't lose it!

"Hey, Vernie! Calm down!", a familiar voice pleaded.

Laverne slowly opened her eyes as she turned around to face.....

"Lenny?" she said incredulously.

"None other than," he replied with a wan smile.

As he rose, she started to walk around the seat to embrace him, then he stopped at the sight of her angry glare.

"Where? Where the Hell have you been for the last three years, Leonard Kosnowski?" she demanded angrily as her voice started to quaver. "No note, no goodbyes, no nothing."

"I--" he started.

"You just disappeared. Do you have any idea how worried I was? How worried Sqiggy was? How worried my pop--" she broke off as the tears she had kept at bay all afternoon overwhelmed her. She covered her face with her hands and sat down, shuddering.

"Vernie, please don't cry!" Lenny said, as he slid into the seat next to her and put his arms around her.

They rode that way all the way down to the corner bus stop by Laverne's apartment. She cried as he rocked her back and forth. The rest of the bus didn't seem to notice.

Lenny grabbed his battered duffel bag with one hand as he guided Laverne off the bus.

Laverne flipped on the light switch as they entered the apartment. "Watch your step. I haven't done a really neat job of sorting through these boxes.", she said, as they picked their way around several cardboard boxes, some with the contents strewn halfway out.

"You getting ready for a yard sale, Laverne?" Lenny asked.

"I could never get rid of my Pop's things," she replied stonily.

"Your pop's-- Oh.", he said slowly, as realization dawned. "Laverne, I didn't know. I'm so sorry. When?"

"Two months ago, but he had his first stroke almost two years ago."

"I'm sorry."

"You already said that."

Len shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, looking like he was afraid to say the next wrong thing that popped into his head.

"So," Laverne said, "you never answered my question. Where have you been?

"A lot of places, Vernie.", he said as he avoided her green eyes. "A lot of places. I swear, though," he continued, "if I had known about your pop, I would have come home right away."

"You still consider this building your home, do you?" she marvelled meanly. "A home is where you *live*. It where people care about you. This place," she said dispiritedly as she looked at the ground, "this place hasn't been a home for a long time."

He stood quietly for a moment, his blue eyes welling up with tears. "I'm sorry, Vernie.", he said as he picked up his duffle bag and turned towards the door. "I never wanted to hurt you of all people. I'm sorry."

She let him get to the doorframe before she spoke.

"Len. Stay."



**********



They ate in a companionable, if not a comfortable silence.

They ordered pizza. He insisted on paying, and she insisted on letting him pay.

"Not bad.," Lenny said. "It's not Pizza Bowl good, but--" he broke off awkwardly, then appeared to study his pepperoni intently.

"It's ok, Len. You can mention my pop," Laverne sighed.

"Sorry, I just didn't want to upset you more." How's Edna doin'?

Laverne's eyes flashed briefly, with a hint of her old fire. "Never mention that woman's name again in front of me. Ever. She left him. Then when I called her after his first stroke, she hung up on me. All the years I've known her, I never thought she'd treat him like that."

A heavy silence once again descended on the dim living room.

Laverne flashed a quick, painful smile. "Sorry about that, Len. Hearing *her* name just pushed my buttons something fierce. It's been a rough coouple of months."

"I think it's been longer than that, hasn't it, Vernie?"

At his words, Laverne looked up. Leonard Kosnowski, she thought, could be an idiot ninety percent of the time. Yet that other ten percent, he could be brilliant. Amazing, a guy who couldn't figure out how to open a checking account could write some of the most beautiful melodies and tender lyrics she had ever heard. She blushed and allowed herself a brief smile as a few ghost strains of "I'm in Love with Laverne" played in her head.

She scrutinzed Lenny as his shaking hand reached for his third piece of pizza. He'd lost weight, like she had. Always lean by nature, Lenny now looked gaunt. There were unfamiliar dark circles under his eyes, eyes that seeemed alternatley sad then too bright.

"Len", she prodded gently. "Where have you been?"

His lips tightened between a grimace and a smile. "Well, Vernie, I've been a little bit of everywhere, it seems. I"ve been travelling a lot, playing in coffee houses and on street corners up north in the Haight." At her surprised expression, he grinned and explained, "Yep. I'm a professional musician--but still broke, of course. I've gotten a lot better, honest."

"Why did you go?"

"I just woke up one morning and realized I had to change things. I was nearly thirty years old, and all I done was drive a truck for Shotz back in Milwaukee, and be vice president of Squignowski Talent and Ice Cream. All of a sudden, it didn't seem like enough," he said as he shook his head.

She looked at him quizzically as he continued.

"I mean, I loved working with Squig. He's my best friend, but Squignowski Talent and Ice Cream was his dream more than mine. He got really upset when I told him I was leaving."

"Wait a minute," Laverne interrupted. "You told Squiggy you were leaving, and you didn't tell me?"

"He was supposed to tell you after I left. So, he didn't?"

"No, Lenny. He didn't. I just woke up to the fact that another one of my friends ran out on me. Shirley left me for Walter, Edna left Pop, you left and went God knows where, Carmine went to New York, Rhonda married some rich oil guy in Texas, then my Pop--" Laverne broke off, closing her eyes and trying to regain her control.

"Vernie," he said as he clutched her hand, "I'm sorry I hurt you, but I didn't tell you because I was afraid you'd talk me out of it."

"Of course I would have talked you out of it! That's what friend's do! They stay together, don't go running off leaving when they're needed!" she shrieked as she jumped to her feet.

"I had to go!" he yelled, the volume of his voice surprisng both of them. He took a deep breath and continued more quietly. "I had to strike out on my own and make my own mark in this world. I had to break out of Squiggy's shadow and stand on my own two feet. You don't know what it's like, Laverne, to be known as *the other guy*. It really starts to hurt." With the last sentence, he sat heavily on the couch.

"Hey, I understand why you'd want to get away from Squiggy....who wouldn't! I was thrilled when he got his draft notice and got stationed in Nevada! But Len, the rest of us deserved better. We liked you despite the fact you hung out with Squiggy."

"You say WE, but you're the only one that seemed to notice I left, Laverne," he said with a childlike petulance.

Taking his hand and looking into his eyes, she replied, "I noticed, Len. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I would have gone looking for you, but my Pop needed me and I don't run out when people need me."

Lenny's jaw quivered and his blue eyes shone with unshed tears. "I know, Laverne. You never run away from nothing. You're not like most people." He exhaled sharply, and once again a veil of silence fell between the two of them.

Laverne eased herself onto the couch, her gut lurching as it struggled to digest the hastily devoured pizza. "Len, I'm sorry I bit your head off. Everything has just hit me at once, and I don't know who to turn to or where to go."

He looked at her in amazement. "You're kidding me," he said incredulously. "You and Shirl alway know the right thing to do. Why do you think Squiggy and I hung out with you so much?"

A weak laugh gurgled up from Laverne's chest, a surprisingly foreign sensation.. "Well, Len, it seems like Shirl was the smart one, not me. She's off in Europe with her fancy doctor husband and little boy; and I'm here broke and unemployed in Burbank. I think you need to head to Europe if you want good advice.

"Nah, Vernie. Your advice has always been plenty good for me." He looked around the room, ask if he was trying to reconcile what it looked like now to how he remembered it. For the first time in nearly two years, Laverne was embarrassed. How did I let this place turn into such a dump, she wondered. Shirley would scream if she saw this pigsty. Then again, no one, including Mrs. Dr. Walter Meeney, had been in her living room for the last two years.

As if reading her mind, Lenny said, "You know, if we pushed all the boxes to that end of the room, it would probably look neater."

As they shifted her father's belongings for the next half hour, Laverne studied Lenny surreptitiously. He was way too thin, she decided. When he leaned forward to put a box on her kitchen table, she could practically count the ribs under his thin, long sleeved shirt. She also noticed his hands shaking more, as if the mild excercise of moving boxes was too much for his system. It was hard for her to reconcile that image with the energetically goofy young man who used to load and unload beer kegs all day from his truck.

He glanced up suddenly, and caught her eye. Smiling quickly to cover the fact she'd been staring, Laverne said, "So, tell me about Haight Ashbury. All I know is what I've seen on the news. Is it everything it's cracked up to be?"

Lenny's eyes darkened momentarily. "Yes, Laverne it is. It really is."

"If it was so great, why did you come back?"

Lenny took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Her name was Teresa," he said quietly.

"Here name was Teresa," he repeated, "and she was beautiful. Big, gorgeous green eyes, long brown hair..."

Lenny squirmed slightly, uncomfortable with Laverne's intense scrutiny.

"Go on," she prodded.

"I'd been on the road for about 8 months, doing odd jobs here and there and hitchhiking to coffee shops with open mike nights. I wasn't having the greatest of luck. Most guys were in duos, or trios, or some times even quartets. There was this one time when these five guys were--"

"Len, I get it," Laverne interupted.

"Oh, OK. Well, this one night in Oxnard, I was heading up to the stage, and I tripped over my own feet. It was awful! I knocked over the microphone and the chair, which of course, slammed into a waiter who spilled coffee all over these people sitting at a table next to the stage. Everyone was either laughing or booing at that point, when this girl--who was one of the people hit by the flying coffee--hopped out of her seat. She walked right up on the stage, and I first thought she was gonna hit me for spilling coffee all over her pretty dress. But, as I was picking up my chair, she picked up the microphone, turned around and said, "My name's Teresa. Do you know 'Farewell Angelina' by Bob Dylan?"

"Laverne, I was so surprised! Before I could even say anything to her, she turns back to the audience and starts singing. I was so busy finding the right chords to keep up with her, that I didn't even realize what a beautiful voice she had until the second chorus. They audience went from booing to clapping in no time flat. We did two encores, luckily we both knew 'Scarlet Ribbons' and 'Every Night'. The audience loved it, Vernie!" he said as a grin brightened his features.

"Afterwards, I went up to her and thanked her for not being mad at me and helping me out. She just smiled and laughed and said singing with me had been the best part of her week. That felt so wonderful to hear, after everything had gone so wrong. We started talking, and got to know each other a little better. I wasn't even flirting with her or nothing since two of her friends were guys. I assumed one of them was her boyfriend, so I even acted like a gentleman--for once. She told me all about growing up in Oklahoma with her family. She said she had always wanted to be a singer, but her folks were real religious and thought singing and dancing were bad. They even sent her away to an all girls religious college to keep her from performing. She only stayed there for a year, then hit the road to Hollywood, like we did all those years ago. Remember, Vernie?"

Lenny's enthusiasm grew as he continued, "She and her friends were in the same boat as I was, doing odd jobs and working their way accross the country to California. Her friends weren't as nice as she was, especially one of the guys, Rob. I think Rob sort of liked Teresa, 'cause he was giving me dirty looks over her head every time her back was turned. Every time she looked his way though, Rob always had a big smile. By the time I met them, they decided the real scene was up in San Francisco and were heading to the Haight. Teresa and I stayed up all night in the coffee house talking about everything. She laughed so hard when I told her all about the fun we had back in Milwaukee. She said she'd never met anyone like me before, but she said it in a nice way, not the way people usually do."

"Teresa invited me to come with her. She said they had enough room in their van, and it would be a lot of fun. I don't think her friends were too keen on the idea, and I know for sure Rob wasn't, but no one said anything. For the first time in a long time, I thought I had friends again. It was good to be in a crowd. I guess I didn't realize how lonely I was." Lenny stared at his clenched hands for a long moment before going on.

"None of their attitudes mattered much, because by the time we got to San Francisco, Teresa and I were--uh, dating," he said as his cheeks flushed and he looked at the floor.

Laverne stiffened slightly. She didn't know where his story was going, but for some reason, she didn't expect to hear that. Stupid, she chided herself, you've done everything in the world to discourage romantic feelings in Lenny for the last fifteen years, now that he's moved on you can't be happy for him?

Forcing a smile, she replied, "She sounds very nice, Lenny. It looks like things have worked out for one of us."

"Yeah, Laverne. Things were great. For a while. Have you ever been to San Francisco, Laverne?" He asked as she shook her head, "It's beautiful, but it's cold. Not Milwaukee cold, but it's rough if you're sleeping in a van or out in the park."

"It sounds like you had someone to keep you warm at night," she said dryly, unable to stop the catty tone.

Lenny's eyes narrowed, apparently following her drift. "It wasn't like that, Laverne. Teresa was a nice girl, who deservered better than--"

Instantly contrite she said, "Len, I'm sorry. Please, go on."

"Well, as I said, it was cold. The money we were making in coffee houses wasn't going as far as it had in Oxnard. It reminded me of those times when I was a kid, and my dad would get laid off and we wouldn't always have food in the house. I forgot how awful it was to be hungry, and also how awful it was to see someone you care about go hungry."

Laverne's cheeks colored with shame. She had forgotten how bad Lenny's home life had been after his mother had run off. Osbert Kosnowski had been too full of foolish pride, and would never have allowed his son to accept charity from the neighbors. Even if if meant the little boy went to sleep hungry many nights.

"Teresa had a hard time with it. As great as she was, she wasn't really used to going without the things she wanted. I thought we were doing OK. Heck, I had just started playing on street corners for money. It helped a little, but there were about a million other guys playing on the street corners. Guys who knew more than five chords. There never seemed to be enough spare change to go around."

"Unfortunately, when Rob and the rest of the gang found a basement to rent in a row house, we weren't in a position to say no when he invited us to move in." Lenny swallowed, then said quietly, "I knew we were making a mistake, I just didn't realize how big of a one."

"While we still didn't have much cash for food, Rob always seemed to have a lot of booze around. Also," he said as he looked at the floor, "a lot of drugs."

At Laverne's surprised expression, Lenny quickly explained, "You don't know what it's like up there. It's all over the place, everyone was doing it."

"Remember that party we went to years ago, and you and Shirley almost married those two English guys because you were high?"

At her nod, he continued. "Those people were just beginners. Laverne, I've taken pills that make you happy when you're sad, ones that make you tired when you're too tense or scared to sleep. I ate some mushrooms a few times just so I could see Jeffrey sprout wings and fly around the room. I don't think he liked it, he always hollered at me later--"

"Well," Laverne broke in bitterly, "it looks like you've been having a wonderful time at a non-stop party. I wish I could have spent the last two years having fun, performing, and making new friends."

"No, Laverne. You don't understand it at all," he explained. " All the drugs we were doing, it wasn't because we were celbrating. We were trying to forget how miserable we were. Teresa missed her family something awful, but they totally cut her off after she left college. She saved up some change and phoned her Dad one day. She listened to him for a few seconds, then busted out into tears and ran out of the phone booth. Her dad was still calling her terrible names when I hung up the receiver."

"I still felt awful because I was still nothing, just nothing in a new town. And," he said as his face darkened further, "Rob always seemed to be there when we were at our worst, handing us a new sample at the drop of a hat. Especially to Teresa."

His voice broke as he went on, "That last night. That last awful night. Teresa and I had a fight. I wanted to leave, to come back to Burbank--or even go back to Milwaukee. I just couldn't handle it anymore. She begged me to stay, not to leave her. I wanted to bring her with me, but she couldn't leave Rob. I found out she had been doing even more drugs on the sly when I wasn't around. We argued all night. Do you know how hard it is to argue when your high, Vernie? Even when you whisper, it sounds like a shout. She said if I loved her I'd stay, I told her that I couldn't bear looking at myself in the mirror in the morning. Especially after Rob's latest little gift." At that point Lenny pushed up the left sleeve of his shirt, to reveal tiny scars on his forearm. "I swore I'd never do nothing like that, Laverne," he said at her look of shock and horror. "The sad thing is, I don't even remember breaking the promise to myself."

He rolled his sleeve back down over his arm, but Laverne couldn't keep from staring. Why, she thought, why did someone as naive and trusting as Lenny have to hook up with a crowd like that? Laverne knew she wasn't worldly, but growing up in Brooklyn, then later in the rough part of Milwaukee, she had picked up enough street smarts to stay away from that sort of scene.

"The last thing I remember is her yelling at me, telling me I didn't love her and I never had." Lenny shifted uncomfortably on the couch. "I guess I must have passed out after that. The next thing I knew, it was daytime. Teresa was curled up in the sleeping bag, facing away from me. I reached out to touch her, to apologize, Vernie--" Lenny broke off, his voice thickening and choking, "When I touched her, I knew right away. Right away that she was dead."

Laverne instinctivly backed away from him on the couch. This is not happening, she thought. This could not have happened to little Lenny Kosnowski from Delancey Street. This was a horrible dream.

Lenny kept talking, whether it was for her benefit or his, Laverne no longer knew.

"--then the guys from the morgue came, Laverne. They put her in a plastic bag, like she was garbage. I sent a telegram to her family in Oklahoma. They wouldn't even come to claim her body." Tears started coursing down Lenny's face as he began to tremble. "She was only twenty, Laverne. She was still a kid. She deserved better than to have it end in a filthy basement with a needle in her arm. She deserved--"

Unable to go on, Lenny bowed his head and let his sobs overtake him.

Laverne reached out to comfort him, an old habit learned in their grammar school days. "Len, it's not your fault. You must have loved her something fierce to--"

"No, Laverne," he gasped, "don't you see? Don't you understand?"

She shook her head slowly as a feeling of dread crept up her spine.

"She was right, Vernie. I didn't love her! I cared about her, and I would have done anything in the world to help her, but I didn't love her!"

"Then why?"

"Because," he choked, "if I was drunk enough, or high enough, or squinted my eyes just right...she looked just like you in my arms."

Laverne sat, stunned into silence by Lenny's outburst. Not knowing what else to do, or knowing much of anything at that point, she continued to hold the sobbing man as he poured out his grief and shame.

She wasn't sure who kissed who first, or when, exactly, it started. Laverne was only aware of the fact that she and Lenny were hungrily mauling each other on the couch. The few, tender kisses they had shared in the past were nothing like this. Neither were the crude, testosterone-induced mashings Lenny had attempted (with Squiggy's encouragement) to fuel his lonely fantasies. There was nothing tender or sweet about their touches. They were born of hunger, a desire for tactile evidence that neither was alone anymore.

Laverne moaned into Lenny's mouth, as he roughly pulled her cardigan from her shoulders and then started to clumsily paw at the zipper on the back of her dress. "Don't bother," she gasped, squirming under him as she desperately tried to pull down her suddenly restrictive underpants.

Lenny pulled out of the kiss suddenly. "Laverne," he said as he lifted herself from her prone form, breathing heavily, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't rush things like this. I should probably--" His words were cut off by her tongue as she drew him down to her by his shirt.

She yanked the hem of his shirt upwards, desperate to feel his warmth against her. It had been so long since she had been touched by anyone. Especially anyone who mattered.

Lenny pulled back again, but this time it was only to finish pulling his shirt over his head and unzip his fly.

Normally, Laverne would have found his lack of underwear repulsive. Now, she just saw it as one less barrier to be breached.

The sound of shredding cloth signaled Laverne's victory over her undergarments. She threw her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her, closer than they had ever been before. After several frantic and desperate minutes, she shuddered into stillness as her exhile from the physical world ended.

The apartment was silent save for the sound of their breathing.

Laverne shifted slightly. A spring from the aging couch was gouging her in the kidney and Lenny's right shoulder was threatening to cut off her air supply. It felt wonderful.

As if sensing her discomfort, Lenny rolled off of her and landed heavily on the floor beside the couch.

"Uh, Laverne," he began as he licked his lips and looked at her nervously, "uh... I wasn't wearing--"

"Doesn't matter," she interrupted. "Pill."

He looked at her blankly for a few moments, then appeared to relax.

Laverne felt her face draw up into a newly unfamiliar smile as she looked at Lenny sitting naked on her living room floor. Despite all he had been through, there was still an underlying innocence in his blue eyes.

The same blue eyes that looked at the floor as she stepped out of the remnants of her panties and pulled down her dress. "Well," he mumbled awkwardly as he reached for his discarded blue jeans, "I guess I should be going..."

"Uh, Len?"

"Yeah, Laverne?"

"Could you help me with something before you go?"

"Sure," he replied, sounding a little less hopeful.

"Could you help me push the twin beds together upstairs?" she paused, closely watching his expression. "I think we'd be more comfortable that way."

A grin from days gone by crossed his face. "Anything for you, Vernie. Anything."















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