I Found My Heart in San Francisco

Book 1: Awakenings

By: S X Meagher

Disclaimers: See Chapter 1

Feedback: I'm consumed by self-criticism; therefore only positive feedback will be read. If you enjoyed the story please stroke my fragile ego, if not, flush it from your memory bank and move on. You can email me at sx_meagher@mindspring.com

Chapter 5

The workout schedule that they had agreed on was meeting their needs perfectly. It allowed Jamie to tax her legs 4 times per week, which allowed a full day of rest between workouts. Jamie rode her long distances on Monday and Wednesday. Her hill climb was on Saturday or Sunday depending on her weekend plans. She found a good set of hills near Jack's apartment, so she was set. They worked her trunk and shoulders on Monday, her arms and back on Wednesday and her legs and chest on Fridays,

After two weeks of this regimen Ryan decided to leave her mountain bike at Jamie's so they could ride together on Monday and Wednesday. As much as Ryan loved her new gym she could no longer go on her morning bike rides, so she had to use whatever time she had available in the afternoons. She began to ride her motorcycle to Jamie's and leave it in her driveway at 5:00 a.m. She would then fetch her bike and ride to work, and later to class. Cassie was not very happy to be roused from sleep every morning at 5:00 by the thrumming engine of the Harley, but she eventually stopped complaining when Ryan agreed to turn off the engine at the curb and walk the bike down the drive.

Cassie was also not particularly happy when Jamie gave Ryan a key to the house.

"Jamie, I don't want that woman to be able to barge in here whenever she pleases," she huffed.

"Okay Cassie," Jamie agreed. "She needs to come in to change out of her boots and heavy jacket before she can ride her bike, so I'll just tell her to ring the bell every morning. You are a really light sleeper, so would you run down and let her in?" she inquired sweetly.

"Fine Jamie, just give all the sex crazed lesbians in town a key to our house," she fumed. "You know, I talked to some people who know her and they say she is a real slut. I can't believe that's the type of person you like to associate with."

She pursed her lips and regarded her roommate for a long moment. "Cassie if all of my friends were as kind and as generous and as honorable as Ryan, I would be one happy woman," she stated with narrow, flashing eyes, as she turned on her heel; hoping that Cassie understood the true meaning of the jibe.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

As the term progressed the demands on Jamie's time increased until she felt like she didn't have a moment to herself. She spent a massive amount of time reading for her 4 English classes and she occasionally kicked herself mentally for taking so many classes that required so much reading. When her face was not actually buried in a book she was either at the gym or riding in the hills. But she found that no matter how much time she dedicated to her workouts she did not regret one minute of them. When she was on her bike she was able to free her mind of every concern about her classes and her future. She didn't worry about her relationship with Jack or think about their life together. She merely put her mind on hold and let the wind fly past her face as she pedaled along the steep hills of Berkeley. Having been away from bike riding for so many years she realized that she had forgotten the freedom that two wheels afforded. No matter how bad traffic was she could scoot right past the stalled cars and be home in a matter of minutes.

But the workouts with Ryan were what really kept her motivated. They worked together 3 hours a week but she had to admit that they were among the most enjoyable hours of her busy week. Even though they spent lots of time together having coffee or a quick meal the workouts were when Jamie felt truly special.

When she really allowed herself to think about it Jamie was the one who usually spent her time making other people feel special. Sometimes it seemed that her entire relationship with Jack was spent making sure that his needs were met: making him lunch and dinner; being with him while he studied; never making demands to go out to dinner or a movie; and being available to him sexually. But for 3 hours a week the world revolved around Jamie and her slowly developing body.

One of the things she had grown to appreciate about Ryan was her ability to intensely focus on a task. As the weeks passed she realized that focus was never welcomer than when it centered around her.

Jamie had observed many other trainers during her weeks at the gym but she had never observed anyone who concentrated so fiercely on their clients. Without a word from Jamie Ryan would automatically remove 5 pounds from the weight stack if it was a tiny bit too heavy; she would order her to stop at 9 reps instead of 10 if she detected too much fatigue; she would skip a certain exercise if a related exercise was too difficult on a given day. All in all she was just so highly attuned to Jamie and her body that after a while they spoke very little during the sessions.

After most sessions they rode to Jamie's home on their bikes. Ryan was always vigilant to make sure that Jamie's muscles were warm enough to handle the short trek and once they arrived she would invariably order her client into the shower. Ryan would wait patiently for Jamie to finish in the bath and then she would give her a thorough massage on whatever body part they had stressed. During the massage Ryan would usually spend at least 10 minutes praising her performance in the weight room. Jamie knew that part of the reason Ryan did this was to keep her motivated; nonetheless, she ate it up greedily. She just felt so unique and special when they spent this time together that she began to wake up in a very happy mood on every workout day.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

On a cool and overcast Wednesday Jamie arrived at the gym for their usual 4 o'clock appointment. She looked around for Ryan but did not see her hanging around the front desk as was her usual habit. She dropped her things off in a locker and entered the main part of the gym, looking for her friend. After she was about to give up and have her paged she spotted her in the far corner of the gym.

Jamie had never even noticed the boxing equipment located on a slightly raised platform in the corner. But Ryan was standing in front of a heavy leather covered bag, banging the stuffing out of it with her hands which were encased in bright red boxing gloves. She stood for a second and observed her friend, watching the sweat fly from her face as she delivered one strong blow after another. Jamie mused that she would not hit the bag the way her friend was doing it. But when she watched carefully she could see that Ryan's technique was the proper one. She punched from her shoulder, getting the force of her entire torso behind each blow. Jamie noted that she was nearly standing on her toes while she punched the bag and that her body followed her arm, with even her hips helping provide thrust. It truly amazed her that she could stand and watch her friend for such a long time without her being aware of her scrutiny, but Ryan was so intent that she was obviously unaware of anything other than her furious assault on the heavy bag. "Um..mad at someone?" she finally asked to break the spell.

Ryan whirled to face her, sweat flying from her hair and hitting Jamie in a light spray. "When did you get...what time is it?" she asked as she looked at her watch. "My God!" she gasped. "It's 4:15!"

"I know," Jamie said with a smile. "I've been watching you for 15 minutes."

"You have?" Ryan asked with a truly perplexed look on her face.

As she said that Jamie realized how odd it sounded to just be watching her so she explained, "I've never seen anyone work on a bag like that. I've always been fascinated by boxing."

"You have?" Ryan asked dubiously as she grabbed a small towel from a stack and wiped her face and neck down.

"Yeah, I have. That was pretty impressive, by the way," she said with a smile.

"Thanks," Ryan said as she blushed a bit. "My 3 o'clock cancelled and I wanted to do something aerobic for a few minutes. I thought this would be something that I could do and not sweat too much," she said as she looked at herself rather helplessly. Sweat was still running down her face and into her black shirt. Rivulets ran down her arms and even her thick black golf shirt looked drenched.

"Um...you were wrong?" Jamie hazarded.

"Well, I started out just playing around with the speed bag," Ryan admitted. "But when I was finished I still felt kind of twitchy so I thought the heavy bag would tire me out."

"Twitchy?"

"Yeah," she said as a blush covered her face and neck. "Sometimes I just need to...I don't know...like let off some steam."

"I think you were successful," Jamie observed wryly.

"I didn't look too bad after the speed bag," Ryan insisted.

"Well as long as you're doing a demo let me see you on that for a minute," she begged, truly interested in seeing her friend work her magic again.

Ryan graced her with a quirky grin. "You sure?" she asked dubiously.

"Positive," Jamie insisted. Ryan shrugged her broad shoulders and stuck out her hands. After a second Jamie realized that she could not take the gloves off herself. "Wow, these would have been a good way for my parents to make me stop sucking my thumb at night," she laughed.

"Hmm, I didn't suck my thumb but I could have used these for a little self control at night myself," Ryan mused as Jamie slapped her firmly in the stomach.

"Some of your dates probably wish you had them now," Jamie chided her.

"Ooo, that's cold," Ryan muttered. She pulled off the gloves that Jamie had unlaced and put on a pair of very lightweight hand protectors. Facing the bag she centered her weight and raised her fists almost to eye level. "My brother Conor put up a speed bag in the garage when I was about 10," she revealed as she started to slowly tap the bag with each hand in sequence. "I had to stand on a box to hit the darn thing but I was much more dedicated than he was. Of course he was 14 and just starting to get into girls so his attention was diverted," she smirked. "Anyway, I loved working on that bag and it really helped me enormously with my hand/eye coordination as well as my concentration. I was so skinny that bag would have knocked me right off that box if I didn't pay attention."

By the time she was finished recounting this insight into her youth her speed had picked up to such an extent that the bag was a mere blur as she worked it easily with her fists barely moving. It was truly mesmerizing to watch and Jamie mused that she could stand here all day and just watch Ryan flail away. But after a few minutes she slowed and eventually stopped the bag by grabbing it with both hands. "Look like fun?" she asked with a twinkle in her eyes.

"Yeah, when you do it," she said with a laugh. "Why doesn't anybody ever use this stuff?"

"Well, it is a lot harder than it looks and most women don't grow up around the stuff so they don't know where to start. But I'd love to show you how if you want. It would be good for your upper body."

"Let's stick with the machines for awhile, Pal. I don't want to bite off more than I can chew." She regarded her friend for a moment and asked, "Do you have another shirt? That one's a mess."

"Good point," she agreed as she plucked at the limp garment. "I think I can grab another from the office. Be right back."

A few minutes later she trotted back over in a much too small shirt. Jamie guessed that she normally wore an extra large and this one could not have been more than a medium. But she didn't have any complaints and neither did the two women on the stair climbers who followed Ryan's progress across the gym. "The only one they had was from someone who quit earlier this year," she said with a scowl. "She must have been a 9 year old."

"You look fine," Jamie assured her. "Now let's get busy, Coach. I've got my work cut out for me if I'm going to keep up with you!"

After their very strenuous workout Jamie asked, "Do you have time for dinner? I could whip something up?"

Ryan appeared to consider the offer for a moment, but finally said, "I'd love to, Jamie, but I can't squeeze it in. My father made a brown bag dinner for me, so I'm just gonna go study."

"That's okay," Jamie said, trying not to sound like she cared. In truth, she cared a great deal. As much as she enjoyed the workouts she equally enjoyed the post shower massage and the praise. But she didn't feel comfortable admitting how much that special time meant to her so she tried to appear casual.

Ryan caught the small look of disappointment in her face. "If you need some company tonight, I'll make time for you," she said kindly.

Jamie felt a little busted, and tried to cover it up with a careless reply. "No, I should study too, I'm just looking for a reason not to."

"If you're sure, Jamie," Ryan said with an intense gaze as she squatted down a bit to make eye contact.

"Positive," she replied, immensely glad that Ryan cared enough to meet her needs.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

4 hours later Jamie was hard at work on a short paper for 'The Lesbian Experience' when she realized that she did not have an important book. Darn, I must have left it at Jack's. The paper wasn't due until Friday, but she had plans to study for a 'Romantic Poets' class the next day. This was really the best night to write the paper, but it was 9 o'clock and she wasn't sure where to buy the book. She called around and found that 'Daughters of Sappho' had the only copy in the area so she hopped in the Porsche and drove to Oakland.

As she circled the block, looking for parking, she noticed an unmistakable vehicle. A turquoise and cream Harley. Hmmm, what's she doing here, 'Little Miss I Have To Study'? She was a trifle annoyed when she entered the bookstore side of the store. She looked around furtively but didn't see Ryan anywhere. Well I guess there could be two women who ride that Harley. That is within the realm of possibilities. She found her book, stopped at the counter to pay for it and was getting ready to leave when she paused to take a quick look around the coffeehouse.

The room was quite a bit darker than the last time she had visited. A woman was on the small stage singing some contemporary ballads in an adequate fashion. Jamie scanned the crowd in the dim light and noticed that only 3 of the small tables were occupied--none of them by Ryan. As she turned her head slowly, trying to adjust for the differences in brightness between the two rooms she caught what looked like a familiar form in the farthest corner of the establishment. Two women occupied a small loveseat in the very dark corner. You couldn't really say they were sitting, because neither of them was upright. An attractive black woman with very close cropped hair was half reclining on the loveseat and Ryan was practically lying on top of her.

Jamie stood slack jawed in the bright light of the bookstore, staring in shock at the pair. Ryan was kissing the woman deeply and moving gently against her whole body as she did so. Jamie did not think she had ever seen anything that was more erotic but every fiber of her being wanted to run out of the store and never think about the sight again. She watched as Ryan gripped the woman's face and kissed her even more passionately. She was completely unable to move but equally unable to stop watching.

Ryan began to sit up and the woman came right with her, latched on to her mouth like an eel. When they were both upright Ryan put one arm around her shoulders and another under her knees and pulled the woman onto her lap. Jamie saw those strong tanned hands begin to caress the woman all over her body. She knew she would faint if she did not look away, but she felt rooted in place. She watched as Ryan's hands again moved to either side of the woman's head and held her still as she began another round of deep kisses. Jamie saw tongues passing between mouths as they drew back an inch or two and then fell right back into each other. The woman's hands slowly slid up Ryan's torso and Jamie had to grasp for something to steady herself as she saw one small dark hand firmly grasp Ryan's left breast and begin to knead it. Ryan's head rose slowly and dropped back against her shoulders as a look of absolute pleasure crossed her beautiful face.

As the book slid from her now nerveless fingers Jamie heard a voice ask, "How ya doing kid?" The question, which came from directly behind her right shoulder, nearly caused her to scream. She used all of her composure to focus her attention in the direction of the voice. Babs, the owner of the shop, and Ryan's friend, looked at her in sympathy. "Don't be mad at her, hon," she said. "Ryan's not a bad kid, but she just can't get tied down to any one woman. She's just not the type."

"What?" Jamie looked at her in total confusion. "Why would I be m...? What?" Never in her 20 years had she felt so completely inarticulate.

"It's okay, kid. You aren't the first and you won't be the last. Don't let it get to ya."

"B..b..but, we're not...she isn't...I'M NOT...I didn't..." Jamie truly wanted to sink to the floor and cry. She was so frustrated with her inability to form a coherent sentence and her chaotic feelings about Ryan that she was truly at a loss.

"All I'm saying is that there are plenty of women who would love to date a good lookin' girl like you. And most of them wouldn't give you up so easy as Ryan did," at this she patted Jamie on the back and walked back in to the coffeehouse.

Jamie was even more stunned now. As if in a trance her eyes traveled on their own accord back to the dark corner. She watched as Ryan and her date disentangled themselves from each other and stood on wobbly legs. The woman had her arm wrapped around Ryan's waist and Ryan's arm was draped across her shoulders. Their heads were very close together as they stumbled out into the darkness.

In order to give herself time to collect her feelings Jamie picked up her book and sat down at one of the small tables. She sat motionless and dazed for at least 15 minutes with her mind a complete jumble. She was angry, puzzled and curious and although she hated to admit it...totally aroused.

Finally, she felt as though she had enough control to drive. She walked outside and was very surprised to see the Harley still in its space. She made her way around the corner and saw Ryan and the woman leaning up against a car, continuing what they had been doing in the coffeehouse. The problem was that the car was right in front of Jamie's.

Now Jamie was able to sort out her feelings--she was angry! I want to leave for god's sake! And I don't want her to see me.

Her quandary was solved a moment later when the woman opened the rear door, crouched down and slid across the seat. Ryan dove in and obviously landed right on top of her. Their heads immediately dropped below the windows and Jamie felt like she could leave and not be seen.

She ran to her car and got in quickly. After a moment of fumbling with her keys she started the engine and roared off as fast as her little German wheels would take her.

Once at home, and safe in her room, she let her mind ruminate. It's not like I didn't know she was with a lot of women. It's just that actually seeing her with a woman was such a shock. But why did I feel so turned on? She pondered that question for long minutes. It must just be the shock and the thrill of seeing someone do something that is kind of forbidden. I would probably get turned on from watching Mia and her boyfriend really go at it, too. She could feel her body flush as she considered just how passionate Ryan had looked with her date. God, she sure was going at it. She looked so powerful and strong. Her hands just possessed that woman. She kissed her with a fierceness that I have never felt. She just looked so intense. God, I wonder what they're doing now? Her mind only paused a second before it delivered the obvious message. What do you think Jamie? They're having hot sex in the back seat of that car! Oh god, why didn't I take abnormal psychology like everybody else?

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Jamie decided that speaking to Ryan about seeing her at the coffeehouse would serve no useful purpose. They did not speak on Thursday but after class on Friday they stopped for their customary juice break. Jamie was amused to see Ryan pull a brown bag from her book bag and begin to eat her snack.

"Um, Ryan?" she began.

"Mmrmfh?"

"Why are you eating cold dry pancakes?"

"They're cold because they were made last night, and I don't have access to a microwave. They're dry because syrup doesn't travel well." After delivering her logical answer she gazed at Jamie with an open, placid look on her face. This was one of Ryan's idiosyncrasies that Jamie both loved and hated. She invariably answered your question...she just answered it exactly as it was asked. The thought passed through Jamie's mind that everyone she knew thought like a lawyer.

"You know that's not my real question," Jamie said as she gave her arm a little slap.

"Okay, I'll confess. I didn't call home by 3 p.m. to tell my father that I wouldn't be home for dinner. This," she said as she shook a dry cold pancake, "is my punishment."

"Um, I guess that clears it up," she replied with a confused look.

"Okay, my father expects each of us to be home for dinner at 6 p.m. sharp. It's no big deal if we can't make it. But if you don't opt out by 3 p.m. he cooks for you. If he cooks for you, you damn well better eat it. So whatever you didn't eat for dinner, you get for lunch the next day."

"But you don't have to eat it, Ryan," Jamie laughed.

"Yes I do," Ryan intoned seriously. "It's important to my father."

"What do you mean?" she asked completely unable to understand how eating cold pancakes could be important to anyone.

"When my mother died he did his best to keep us functioning as a real family. Having meals together is a big part of what makes that work. When I break one of the family rules there should be a price to pay. It's all about respect." Her deep blue eyes were serious as she gazed steadily at Jamie.

"I would love to meet the man that you love and respect so much, Ryan," Jamie said as she covered Ryan's hand with one of her own.

Ryan blushed just a little and gave Jamie a big smile. "Why don't you come for Sunday dinner and meet everyone?"

"I would love to," Jamie replied enthusiastically.

"Sunday at 3 p.m. Don't be late," she threatened ominously as she gave her cold pancake another shake right in Jamie's face.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Jamie left Palo Alto extra early to insure that she would be on time for Sunday dinner. She followed Ryan's neatly written directions as she moved along the 101 and as she exited at Cesar Chavez Blvd. She mused to herself that she had never been in this section of the city. She often took the 101, but usually only to see her grandfather up near Nob Hill. As she drove along Chavez it became clear why she had never been to this neighborhood. Her family was interested in high culture, fine restaurants and major sporting events. This modest neighborhood looked like a fine place to get a good Nicaraguan meal, but that was about it. The neighborhood wasn't terribly run down but it strongly reflected the culture of its recent immigrants from Central America. Is this Ryan's neighborhood? she mused thoughtfully. I know she doesn't have much family money but this seems awfully modest.

After a couple of miles she crossed Dolores, a broad, divided street with a large greensward down the center. At that imaginary dividing line the neighborhood began to change dramatically. The houses were very neatly tended and the shops looked decidedly more upscale. This is really cute, she mused as she regarded the plethora of small 2 and 3 story Victorians that graced every block.

She arrived at the stated address at 2:40. She found a parking space rather easily and walked up to the neat little Victorian. She heard music playing from the attached garage and decided to check there before climbing the exterior staircase to approach the front door. Two dark figures were lying on the floor flanking a turquoise and cream Harley as she approached.

Walking into the garage she tentatively asked, "Ryan?" still not positive that one of the figures was her friend.

"Hey, Jamie," replied her friendly voice. "Did you bring your overalls?" Ryan scooted out from beneath the bike and rose to her full 6 ft. plus height. She wore her black hair in a neat braid that stuck out from beneath the bill of her backwards red baseball cap. A tight white ribbed tank top showed every one of the many assets of her torso. Very old, very faded 501's covered her long legs. The jeans bore large rips at each knee and small ones beneath the soft curves of her butt. As she stood Jamie could make out gray underwear through the rear rips that seemed to extend well past the norm. What does she have on under those jeans?" she mused. Does she wear boxers? Big brown lineman's boots covered her feet.

Jamie could almost feel her chin hit her chest when the next figure stood. She was fairly certain that Ryan did not have a twin. But the tall man who now stood beside Ryan was clearly a testosterone laden clone. Looking at them together Jamie marveled at the likeness. But where Ryan had smooth curves, the man had tight muscle. He was at least 5 or 6 inches taller and a lot broader in the shoulders, but his hips were narrow. He did not have an ounce of fat anywhere it did not belong. His hair was identical in color and texture, but he wore it short around the side of his head and a little long on top. His eyes were the same deep blue and they had the same intensity as Ryan's. But Jamie quickly noticed that they lacked the gentleness that Ryan's often bore. His gaze seemed intimidating, almost predatory, while Ryan's usually seemed open and interested. He was dressed in a similar manner, but his T-shirt covered his shoulders and his jeans had fewer holes.

Ryan looked bemused at the expression on Jamie's face. "Kinda creepy, huh?" she teased.

"Wha...Oh...yeah," she admitted. "You aren't twins, are you?"

The man was busy wiping his hands on a towel. As he finished he extended his right one in greeting. "She should be so lucky to share my chromosomes," he said with bravado.

Jamie laughed as Ryan punched him rather hard in his bicep. "This is my sweet, charming brother Conor. Conor, this is my friend, Jamie."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Conor," Jamie finally got out, aware that she was still staring, but unable to stop.

"It's only gonna get worse, Jamie. Prepare yourself," Ryan warned.

The grungy siblings spent a few moments putting away their tools and neatening up the work area. Jamie watched them work, still unable to get over the astounding similarity. After they had finished they all exited the front of the garage and hung a left to walk up the narrow staircase that led to the front entrance. When they reached the landing she noticed a very nice flower rimmed deck that obviously covered the two garages. "Nice," she said appreciatively, taking in the neat space.

"Yeah," Ryan agreed. "We've got the only deck on the whole block. Actually, one of the few in the whole neighborhood. It's a great place to sit out and get a fog tan," she chuckled, acknowledging the few clear days that The City was blessed with. Giving a quick glance at the surrounding houses she noticed that they were all of a similar type. They were all quite narrow and spaced very closely together; actually most of them seemed to touch each other on both sides.

Conor held the door for her and she stepped in before the siblings. "Your home is charming, Ryan," she enthused. As Jamie looked around she thought to herself that part of the charm was the near Lilliputian size of the rooms. The house was only two rooms wide and two rooms long. The small entryway led to an equally small but attractive living room. The living room opened into a formal dining room that was identical in size to the living room. The living room held two love seats and a comfortable looking leather wing back chair. A full sized sofa would never have fit, and the room was a little cramped with the current seating arrangement. There was a small fireplace topped by a mantel that was filled with pictures of the family. Small leaded glass windows bracketed the fireplace. Additional photos and diplomas lined the walls under the windows. The wall to the left of the fireplace held a floor to ceiling bookcase that was lined with books and more photos. The opposite wall revealed a door but Jamie couldn't figure out what room would open off the front of the living room.

As she looked around she noticed that the most attractive part of the room was all of the exquisitely detailed woodwork. The ceiling was bordered by a deep crown molding with a wide picture molding right underneath. Each window and door was trimmed out, as was the fireplace. Jamie guessed that the home was 60 or 70 years old, really too new to have all of the millwork be original. "I love all of the moldings in here," she said to Ryan.

Conor gave her a big grin as he offered a slight bow. "Thank you, Jamie," he said.

Ryan explained, "Conor's a finish carpenter. After he got out of trade school he used the house as his little project. We've got every kind of molding and trim that you can imagine."

She ran her hand over the elaborate woodwork of the mantel. "You certainly do nice work, Conor," she said appreciatively.

"Don't encourage him too much," Ryan warned. "He'll pull out his pictures and monopolize you all night!"

"Some people are interested in craftsmanship," he sniffed. "Jamie certainly seems to be able to recognize quality."

"My mother's very much into home decorating," Jamie explained. "We did a major remodel a couple of years ago and we had a lot of trim installed, so I learned a ton about your craft, Conor."

The cozy dining room held a very large oak table, rectangular in shape. It had room for 10, but only 6 places were set today. As Jamie finished surveying the room she was greeted by yet another of Ryan's clones. This one looked a bit older and while he was also well built he did not leave the impression of raw power waiting to burst out of his skin that his siblings had. "Oh, Brendan, when did you show up?" Ryan asked as she crossed the room to give him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"I came over about a half hour ago, but I've got good clothes on and I wasn't going to let you grease monkeys talk me into ruining another pair of pants," he replied sagely.

"Brendan, this is my friend, Jamie," Ryan again began the introductions, and was forced to add another, "and this is Rory," she said to Jamie as the last brother entered.

Well at least he's not a clone, too, Jamie thought. Rory was shorter than Ryan by 2 or 3 inches. His hair was also lighter, and Jamie guessed that it would be a deep red in the sunlight. His eyes were a soft green and they twinkled when he smiled. His skin was fairer than his siblings, but his features were quite similar.

"I'm pleased to meet you both," Jamie said as she shook hands with each in turn.

A voice rang out from the kitchen, "Dinner will be served in exactly 1/2 hour. Anyone with a spot of grease on them will not be served."

Conor and Ryan stole guilty glances at each other. "Flip you for the shower," Ryan said. She produced a dime from her jeans, but Conor lucked out. "Please leave some hot water for me, Conor," she begged.

"What's it worth to ya?" he inquired.

"Well, it's you who has the most to gain since I sit next to you at the table," she reasoned.

"Good point, Stinky," he relented, "I'll hurry."

The voice boomed from the kitchen yet again. "Shi' vawn," it appeared to say, "Use some manners and bring your guest in here."

"Shi' vawn?" Jamie mouthed to her friend.

Ryan looked a little sheepish. "It's my real name," she admitted. "I changed it long ago, but my father doesn't acknowledge it."

They walked through the dining room and turned right into a very large kitchen. The room was rectangular in shape and ran about 15 feet to a screened door at the rear. It was only about 10 feet in width, but the high ceilings and bright tile made it look much bigger. The kitchen was not what Jamie was mesmerized by however, that distinction fell to the older male clone stirring a pot on the stove.

Gee, I guess they're not adopted, thought Jamie. Martin O'Flaherty was clearly the original from whom the little O'Flaherty copies sprang. He was a good 4 inches taller than Ryan, with a bit of gray at the temples. His physique matched that of Brendan and from a distance he could have been 30 years old. But up close his face had the small lines and weathered skin that befitted a man who worked at a dangerous profession. His eyes, however, were exact copies of Ryan's, deep blue, warm and friendly.

"Da, this is my friend, Jamie," Ryan again made the introduction.

"Ahh, Jamie," he said warmly with a more than a hint of an Irish accent. "Shi' vawn speaks of you well and often. I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance, but I wish it had been weeks earlier," he said as he shot a glare at his smirking daughter.

"If she speaks half as well of me as she does of you Mr. O'Flaherty, then I'm a lucky woman," Jamie replied with a twinkle.

"Shi' vawn are you certain this little one is not from the old sod?" he said with a laugh. "She seems to have kissed the Blarney Stone rather recently. But there is no Mr. O'Flaherty here darlin'. You may call me Martin or Marty, whichever you choose."

"What do you prefer?" she inquired.

"Pay attention, Shi' vawn," he said with a grin identical to the one Jamie had seen hundreds of times on her friend. "This one's got manners." He turned to Jamie and looked a bit pensive as he finally said, "I suppose I prefer Martin. It's the name my parents gave me and I can't think of a reason to change it." This last was directed at a bemused looking Ryan. "Another lesson you could take from this one is how to dress for dinner," he said as he regarded Jamie's outfit. She wore a forest green cashmere crew neck sweater and a pair of wide wale corduroy slacks in a soft buttery cream color. Shiny brown faux alligator loafers completed the outfit.

"I'll try, Da," Ryan agreed. "But I don't think even Jamie could do much for my sense of style." She cocked her head in concentration. "I think Conor's out of the shower. Wanna come to my room to give me some pointers, Jamie?"

"Sure, Ryan," she replied a little hesitantly. Even though she was very interested in seeing what was under those jeans, she knew it was not the wisest course of action. But she put her cautions to the side and followed right on Ryan's heels. They walked back to the small entryway and opened a door that Jamie had not noticed. As they descended a low staircase Ryan was forced to duck her head severely. It seemed to Jamie that they were in a room that would be located right behind the garages. The room was surprisingly bright as it was above ground even though she supposed it was technically in the basement. A large casement double hung window loomed over the bed and faced the small neat backyard. Jamie could see a large black dog looking through the window with a quizzical look on its face.

"Hi Duffy," Ryan said as she sat on her large bed and opened the window. "Duff, this is Jamie," she said as she pointed at her amused friend. "She's my very good friend, and I want you to greet her gently." The dog cocked his big black head and gave her a stern expression that seemed to imply agreement. "We'll be out soon, so you go practice," she said as she closed the window and the dog trotted away.

"He's awfully cute, Ryan," Jamie said. "What kind of dog is he?"

"He's half black lab and half standard poodle. I got him from a client 3 years ago. Best tip I ever got," she said proudly.

Ryan rose from the bed and crossed the room to a well built set of drawers and doors that lined the entire side wall of her room. She began to open the doors and look at her wardrobe. Jamie walked up next to her and marveled at the way everything was organized. Each drawer was labeled neatly. T-shirts L/S; T-shirts S/S; T-shirts N/S; Sweats; Socks; U/W etc.

"Got enough T-shirts?" Jamie asked casually as she opened the N/S drawer to confirm that indeed the shirts stored inside did not in fact have sleeves.

"Hey, I'm a dyke," she said defensively. "T-shirts are part of the uniform."

"Do you need help Shi' vawn?" Jamie asked innocently as her friend seemed at a loss.

"Don't start," she warned with a smile.

"God, Ryan, I think I know you so well, but I don't even know your real name."

"I haven't used that name since I was seven," Ryan replied. "Only Da and my grandparents use it, the boys even stopped when I beat them up," she admitted. "And you do know me, Jamie," she said sincerely. "You know me very well. I wouldn't have invited you here otherwise."

Jamie remembered that Ryan's mother had died when she was seven. Thinking there might be a connection she chose not to pursue the matter. "I'm sure I know all the important parts," she admitted. "Besides, a touch of mystery becomes you."

Ryan laughed and resumed her task. "My big problem is that I don't have any nice pants," she moaned. "Every time I decide to buy something nice I find some new bike pants or a new warm up suit that I know I'll wear ten times more often and I buy that instead."

She pulled out a perfectly acceptable pair of navy blue wool slacks and a cream colored cable knit sweater. She laid her selections out on the bed and sat down to unlace her boots. Jamie chickened out as she considered watching her undress, so she knew she had better get out now. "I think I'll offer to help your father while you get ready," she offered.

"He won't let you help, but he'd appreciate the offer," Ryan predicted.

As she turned to leave she remembered something that had puzzled her. "Why do you call him 'Da'?"

"It's the Irish equivalent of Dad. Many kids call their parents Ma and Da rather than Mom and Dad."

"It's kind of cute," Jamie offered as she began to walk up the stairs.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

As Ryan predicted, Jamie's offer to help was rebuffed by Martin. "You go play with the children," he said as he directed her to the now open door off the living room. The relatively big bedroom facing the street was filled by a king sized bed, a well worn upholstered chair and 3 men lounging in various positions as they watched the 49'ers battle the St. Louis Rams from a TV set located in another lovely built-in cabinet lining the wall.

Jamie sat on the floor after refusing the offer of the chair. She quickly joined in the discussion of the 9ers lack of a good tight end. "Tom Rathman and Brent Jones made them click," she added knowledgeably. Ryan joined them, freshly scrubbed and shockingly beautiful in her dress up clothes, as half time was just beginning. She sat next to Jamie on the floor and watched a little challenge that Conor had obviously just made with Jamie. They were each putting $5 up and Rory was acting as judge. Jamie scrunched her face up, deep in thought. "Well, there has to be an 'S', she said, "and an 'H'?" she asked hopefully.

"Two for two!" said Rory.

"How about an 'A'?"