Author's note...

Well, hope you enjoyed the story of Gia and Pete and John and all the rest. Thanks for sticking with me, even through all the gaps and long waits. Stay tuned for more writing!

Healing

Somehow, we all managed to start going through the daily motions of life, but there was no life in it. We were in shock. When we came out of shock, we mourned. We were angry and bitter and hurt. But somehow, things were different than they would have been pre-John. Instead of distancing our selves from each other, we clung to each other and relied on each other. We loved each other.

Several months later I was sitting in my favorite lawn chair in the back yard on a cool -- okay, hot and muggy -- morning, drinking a cup of coffee and smoking what I promised myself was my last cigarette. A shadow passed over me and Pete sat down in the chair next to me, handing me a book. It was a Bible.

"What's this?" I asked.

Pete shrugged. "I've been going through John's stuff. He left one for each of us. There should be a letter inside."

My eyes filled with tears and Pete reached over to take my hand.

"So tell me," I said, sniffing. "What's happened? I have to be honest. I expected you to react...differently. But here you are...good ol' Pete. No, better than the old Pete." And it was true. Pete was a different person. He was our rock, our leader. We could count on him. It was a little disconcerting, but really nice too.

"John and I talked a lot that last week. About choices. I've realized these past few weeks that I had a choice -- I could drown myself in guilt for the rest of my life or I could honor John's sacrifice and actually live this new life that was handed to me. What he did was amazing and I want to be that kind of person -- I want to have the capacity for that kind of love." He nodded at the Bible in my lap. "I got one too. I've been reading it. Maybe we can all figure this life thing out after all."

I shook my head, but squeezed Pete's hand. "No," I said. "I don't think I'll ever figure it out. But we can learn how to live it, maybe. And be grateful for it."

Pete raised my hand to his lips and kissed it softly. His eyes were still sad, but held more of smile than I'd seen in a long time. "Maybe you're right," he said.

John

The man's eyebrows rose slightly and a slight smile touched his lips.

"You are rich?" he asked. "Perhaps you have brought cash with you?"

John shook his head. "No," he said. "But I'll stay in John's place. I'll pay his debt."

The man stared at John for a long moment. Long enough for John's words to sink in and my brain to register one clear though: surely John can't be serious? Doesn't he know what that means?

"You understand what this means." The man could have been reading my mind.

John nodded, a look of peace on his face that I could not in a million years wrap my head around.

"John," I croaked, my voice tinged with desperation. "John, what are you doing."

John took a few steps toward me and wrapped his arms around me. "And this is love," he whispered, "that a man lay down his life for his friend."

I shook my head against his chest as my own chest began to constrict. "No."

John gently pushed me toward Paul, who put his arm around me to hold me up, which was good because my legs weren't holding up too well at this point. I could feel Paul trembling slightly, but he just nodded to John. By this time, the reality of what was happning finally caught up to Pete.

"No," he said in a surprisingly firm voice. "John, I'm not letting you do this."

"It's not up to you," John said. "But one day you'll understand."

He turned to the man who'd been watching us, his face only showing the faintest traces of incredulty at a situation I could be fairly certain he'd never encountered before. As John told the man "I'm ready," Paul leaned down to whisper in my ear: "You're going to have to be strong, Gia, and hold it together for a few minutes. I'm going to have to get Pete to the car, you know?" I nodded, and reached inside me for whatever strength I could find. John turned toward Pete and smiled as the two thugs began walking toward us to lead John from the room.

"Sorry, Pete," John said. "But I think you'll forgive me later." Before Pete could respond John reached back and planted a monster punch across Pete's face, knocking him out. Paul was ready for it, and I moved to help him grab Pete. After one last look at John's retreating figure and the bizarre, chilling room, I helped Paul wrestle Pete out the door and into the car. I felt completely numb as we shoved him in the back seat. Paul hurried around to the driver's side as I slid into the front seat. As I shut the door, I heard the gun shots. I doubled over, moaning; Paul clutched the wheel for a brief moment, tears running down his face. Then he turned keys and shot out of the driveway.