“I was supposed to be Peyton’s boyfriend.” That stung. I was supposed to be her brother and protector. I let her die. My breath sort of shuddere... as I drew it in.“Donnie, did Pey ever want anything for you other than your happiness?” I asked softly.“Well, no, I guess not. We didn’t like do anything, you know. Other than dance. Pey loved to dance.”“Yeah. She sure did. Teach Kate to dance. Don’t stop dancing because Pey is gone.”“We were only ten, you know. I just turned eleven last week and Kate. "Old one, Er, but good."I acknowledged her compliment with a suave "Thank you, Madam. And how may I help you today?"She laughed again. "Eric. How did you know that I needed a favor?" Habit, I guess," I remarked wryly."Very funny, hubby dear, but I am serious. The shooting's in trouble."Her second movie - the first had sunk without a trace - was a better joke. I viewed it as my wife's feeble attempt to create the world's best love story - after the one of bin Laden falling in love with the late. More

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