Enchanted—Epilogue

Dinner was done, dishes washed and put away. Jenny being apparently more hip and into Frank than Abbie was, went out for a drink with him. For once, she felt her apartment had a cozy warm feeling that had been missing for a long time, or maybe it was her content, full belly, or perhaps that her partner was once again safe. Abbie made a note to ask Jenny when their mom had taught her that recipe because she obviously had missed out somewhere along the line.

"Crane, you want a drink?" Abbie called from her small kitchen.

"Do you have any madeira?" Crane replied.

"Madea? What?" Mills called back.

"Never mind. How about rum?" he returned.

"Sorry. I have some…. " He heard clanking of glassware, " I have some Four Roses bourbon. When did I get that?"

"That would be satisfactory, Ms. Mills." he said and then heard two glasses and pouring liquid. She entered with the glasses and the bottle under her arm.

"Now, let's not repeat Thanksgiving, shall we?" she said handing over his glass and sitting beside her own bed in an upholstered armchair. Ichabod still remained propped up against her headboard with her chintz pillows.

He raised the glass and she clinked it, "Certainly not Ms. Mills. Certainly not."

Sipping, he licked his lips appreciatively, "This is one thing England never had. A good distilled spirit."

"Yeah, not sure why I have this, but it certainly warms, doesn't it?" she mentioned, swirling the amber liquid in the highball glass, admiring the play of the light.

A comfortable silence passed between them, each lost in their thoughts for a moment.

Ichabod broke the quiet looking intently at her, "Thank you."

Abbie glanced at him, "What for?"

"For saving my life." he replied matter-of-factly.

"Well, you are my partner. That's what partners do; protect, comfort, care for, each other." Abbie filled in.

"You are not going to say that word, hmm?" Ichabod teased, the bourbon warming him up in his convalescent state a little faster than if he was completely healthy.

Mills gave him a semi-withering look, "Love? See, I said it. I can say that word."

"Saying and feeling it are two very disparate things, Ms. Mills." he teased further, a mischievous wink in his eyes.

"That's the liquor talking." Abbie retorted, "I thought we swore off discussing personal relationships."

"True. True. Sorry if I offended." He became more somber.

Abbie decided she didn't like somber Ichabod since he spent so much time there, "So what if I did say I love you as a partner, a friend. Would that offend your gentle spirit?" She intoned 'gentle spirit' in her faux English accent.

"Well, girl friend, if you did, I would be more than honored by your regards." he countered with a vernacular term that he knew bothered her.

"Ok, let's make a deal. We each speak our own version of English. That was really ugly just then." Mills replied sipping her bourbon.

"Indeed." He raised his glass again, a bit of a fuzzy sound in his voice, "To Love!"

"To love." Abbie echoed and clinked glasses again wondering what lay ahead of this new depth in their partnership.