I have things I need to get done," she stated a bit sadly. I was sad too all of a sudden."Well, what about that spanking?" I reminded her."Oh, yes, w...ll we'll do that some other time, I promise!" Mmmmm, I thought, so there will be another time, but apparently I didn't just think it, I said it out loud. Mrs. Peterson laughed."Yes Norman, I think so," she assured me, "in fact, I'd like you to come by next Friday to mow the lawn again. Only I want you to show up later than usual, say a three. What’s yours?”“Bridget.”August 5, 1997, en route from Saint Petersburg, Russia to Chicago, IllinoisAs I wrote in my journal, with Natalie sitting next to me, just across the aisle from her parents, I contemplated everything about the trip that was now nearing its end. The revelation of Natalie’s middle name had been like a thunderclap, calling back to mind the thoughts about Birgit Andersson I’d had as I’d run through the streets of Saint Petersburg. There was some connection between the two. More

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