Another Pink Book!

EPILOGUE

Four Months Later

That Sunday, Yuri's mercenaries delivered Buddy Ray's disreputable old vehicle. It had been meticulously cleaned and the rusty, dented fenders had even been waxed. It had somehow been retrieved from the mud in the deep woods where Ben had abandoned it. With it came a hand-written, florid letter from Yuri along with enough flowers to make a Rose Parade float.

In the note, Yuri apologized profusely for not fulfilling his promise to me; he declared his shame would follow him to the grave. He stated that he would be happy to kill himself in the most painful way he could imagine if I so wished it. It would be a less cruel fate than living with the displeasure of my unforgiveness.

The big, Scandinavian man was the one who gave me the note. I grinned and wrote a brief note to send back to Yuri, while the big man sweated under the force of Ben's scowls and Sam's growls. I assured Yuri of my forgiveness and told him that I preferred he not kill himself in the most painful way possible. And that was the beginning of the Time of Yuri.

He appeared, beaming with pride at our Thanksgiving Dinner as Katie Lee's escort. He wore a black suit with shiny black shoes, a black shirt, and guess-what-color-tie. He brought lavish gifts for our Thanksgiving table: an enormous, lush, Dobos Torte and elaborate, handmade wooden toys for all the children. He brought Matryoshka (nesting dolls) for all the ladies—elaborate, hand-painted, enameled and bejeweled collector's pieces. There were large boxes of the world-renowned Lviv chocolates, an exquisite, hand-embroidered tablecloth for me as the hostess, flowers, dried dates and apricots, and a large basket of rare and expensive spices. For all the men, he brought Yugoslavian combat knives, which might not have been strictly legal, and elaborately engraved brass knuckles. Yuri showed the men how they could use the brass knuckles to make engravings of fruit, flowers, and landscapes in the bruises of their victims. Thanksgiving was interesting but not as interesting as Christmas.

For Christmas, Yuri gave us all guns. All of us. Even the babies. The females all got Makarovs with a lifetime supply of ammunition. It was interesting to see what Yuri considered a lifetime supply: I got a mere thousand rounds, but the babies all received 20,000 each. Our Makarovs sported pink grips, diamond details and everyone had their name boldly engraved along the slide.

The men all got AK 74s. The men were rather speechless; even Buddy Ray (my first cousin, Ben's sister's husband, and the local sheriff) got one. Ammo was included—I'm not sure how many rounds, but I did discover the guns existed in a gray area of legality.

The grinning mercenaries carried crate after crate of ammo into the house, which they playfully arranged as a fort for the children. The grandbabies shouted in glee as they 'defended' the fort against the pretend attack of the mercenaries. Yuri beamed and slapped Ben and my sons-in-law's backs repeatedly, resulting in a bit of staggering and spewing of drinks. Nora, Suzanne, and Liz fed the mercenaries sandwiches, Christmas cookies, and hot chocolate, but I had to lay down with a cold cloth for my head.

Katie Lee was a bit fed up with Yuri, though, when he stood her up for a New Year's Eve Ball just because of 'some little old government overthrow in some backwater country' of which she had never heard. I was rather relieved at her pique and included her in our New Year's Eve card party, where she flirted outrageously with Toby.

Toby continues to sigh over me. He speaks of retirement from his job, but I've talked him into staying at the cancer center for at least another year. He plans to find a replacement to groom. Ben is gleeful and has helpfully encouraged Toby to consider moving back to upstate New York to live out his golden years. Ben has even offered to help him move.

Not only is Suzanne blossoming under the beauty of pregnancy, but both Nora and Liz announced the imminence of new arrivals as well. Katie Lee waxed caustically eloquent regarding the matter and offered, for at least the hundredth time, to buy all my sons-in-law vasectomies for Christmas. They all thanked her but refused the offer.

Katie Lee thought it was a good time to part ways with Lynchburg. She had loved living there but found the building to be too sprawling and uncomfortable. Her house nearby will be ready to move into in a few weeks. In the meantime, she is having her place in Lynchburg renovated to become a camp for needy and handicapped children. Uncle Clarence's old house will be the caretaker's cottage and the other areas will be renovated to suit the needs of the children. Katie Lee plans to have zig-zag ramps installed and a 'river walk' constructed to accommodate handicapped children who wish to visit the waterfall.

I assured her it is an excellent idea. But the plan has temporarily left her homeless. What else could I do but offer my hospitality? She moved into one of the upstairs bedrooms. Daily she bemoans the 'facts' of my poverty and the knowledge that I live without an indoor pool and sauna haunts her. She considers my life to be primitive and she simply cannot understand how I manage to live with no luxuries whatsoever. She and Ben quarrel every single day. I have had a lot of headaches recently.

Poor Sam has slimmed down quite a bit. I put it down to the trauma he suffered over his neutering. The operation was a necessity, though: just a week or so ago, three baskets of newly-weaned puppies were delivered to me.

Thirteen puppies, all of whom are the spitting image of Sam. Three of the dogs that had joined Sam's renegade group had become pregnant after their little escapade. I think I have found homes for all but four of the puppies. Those four are both the cutest and the ugliest: their Mama was the feisty Bassett Hound that had bit Yuri's leg. The puppies had bodies similar in size to Sam's as a puppy with big heads and a friendly disposition. But they have their mother's stout but diminutive legs. All thirteen of the puppies are afraid of celery. Katie Lee wonders if the children's camp would like the puppies as mascots. I have my fingers crossed.

Katie Lee gave me and the girls all pieces of jewelry made from the Iris Agate found in the cave as well as picture albums filled with the exquisite photography from that day. Recently I sat with Katie Lee over coffee, looking at the photo albums and admiring my ring.

"You know, Katie Lee, when all is said and done, it really was a nice Breast Cancer Awareness Day."

"I know. Did I tell you that the photographer had entered a picture of us at the tea table in a photo contest?"

"Really?"

"Yeah. See this one? You can't even see the platform: it looks like we're floating on top of the waterfall."

"It truly is a lovely picture."

"He wants to stage another photo shoot with us."

"Not at the waterfall!"

"No. It will be some kind of theme for Breast Cancer Awareness again, though."

"Like what?"

"We could do a pink sofa on a train track."

"That sounds dangerous!"

"Or another tea party: maybe on a rooftop or on a truck bed submerged in a lake."

"Absolutely not!"

"I know! We could go skydiving, all dressed in pink with pink parachutes..."

"I refuse to discuss this..."

"Wait! How about we get one of those mechanical bulls and ...."

I fled the scene, claiming the excuse to take Sam for a walk. Katie Lee followed us, shouting one outlandish scheme after another.

I'm already dreading next October.