He stood in front of her, looking solemnly into her face. Her shiny black hair, soft grey eyes, and pouty lips could twist him around her finger, and his feelings for her would never change. He felt his eyes sting, and he smiled in irony; the coldness of the stone at his feet brought his mind back to the present.

"Oh Catherine, how I miss you..."

He bent down to place the bouquet of white roses and China mums on the old headstone, and the voice from behind startled him.

"The memories come in bits and pieces, and I'm never really sure if I'm remembering my past or seeing my future."

He didn't turn to look at her, but his voice belied his strong emotion, "What have you remembered?"

"That night at the house...she begged you to protect her; to protect me. And you told her that you would do whatever she needed. The two of you weren't alone in the room, there were sweepers. She told you that no matter what happened, you had to take care of me. She made you promise her that you would see to it that nothing ever happened to me, and for that favor, she said she'd always be near you, watching." Miss Parker paused for a moment, then continued in a softer voice. "I sometimes think I feel her with me, but you sense her presence all around you, don't you..."

His voice was a whisper, and he kept his back to her. "Yes."

"Teach me, Sydney...like you did her. Help me to understand how to use the inner sense ...please."

He closed his eyes tightly, his back straightening slightly. "I...can't."

"You mean won't."

He finally turned to face her. "Parker, you don't understand."

"Then explain it to me." He hesitated and her voice turned caustic. "I know you shared some kind of special...connection to my mother, but that doesn't give you a right to shut me out."

Sydney could feel her reaching out with her inner sense, and he stared at her, as he felt an all too familiar mental link. The color drained from his face, and finally he uttered, "I should have known..."

"Known what?"

The mental signature that was so unique, that was so familiar, and so comforting, was not Catherine Parker; and yet it was exact in every respect. And in that moment, he realized that it had not been Catherine's voice he had been hearing all these years, but Miss Parker's. She had been the one to reach out to him, unaware of her power within. Tears filled his eyes as he gently ran a hand through her hair. Parker frowned at him, but resisted the instinct to pull away from the affection.

"What is it?"

He smiled sadly and turned away from her, once again facing the grave of his dear friend. His graceful hand reached out and brushed across the headstone, feeling the smooth stone beneath.

His voice was a soft caress in its simple statement of fact. "I miss her."

Not prepared for such a display of bare emotion and stark honesty, Parker felt the sting of tears. "So do I."

Without looking behind him, his hand reached back and a moment later he felt the smaller one slide into it. He held it tightly as he had when she was a little girl.

Her voice was a whisper. "I never knew you felt this strongly about her."

"Yes you did." He glanced back at her. "Your conscious mind didn't want to accept it."

"Will I ever know the truth, Sydney?"

He turned to face her then, taking her hands in his own, his soft brown eyes looking earnestly into her grey ones. "The truth is there, Parker. You're just not ready to see it yet." He put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into him as he moved her toward the paved road beyond. "I'll be here to help you when the time comes..."

Parker put her arm around his waist and leaned into him as they walked. It had been a long time since she had accepted his comfort, but the voice inside told her that he would protect her with his life if it came to that. And she couldn't help but wonder why.

The End