From: magsrose@comcast.net   
      
   A Little Frohike   
   Feedback: magsrose@comcast.net   
   Category: Gen   
   Rating: PG   
   Summary: Frohike gets some shocking news from an old friend   
   Disclaimer: Well, you know who and you know what - used without   
   permission. Seattle's Best Coffee and Starbucks are registered   
   trademarks and are also used without permission   
      
      
      
   Hall Bros. Funeral Home   
      
      
   Frohike stood in the back of the funeral home's chapel trying to be   
   inconspicuous. He just wasn't ready to be seen. He had been determined   
   to come even though Langly had told him he should just keep out of it.   
   The deceased had been his lover for two short but memorable months all   
   those years ago. And besides, how often do you get an invitation to   
   such an occasion from the person for whom the funeral is being held?   
      
   He leaned forward a little trying to see past the rows of pews but   
   everyone stood up at that moment and he was unable to spot what he was   
   looking for. He stepped back into the shadows as the mourners filed   
   out. The first group up and out the door, mostly professional types in   
   expensive suits, did not notice Frohike in his dark corner. All of   
   them solemnly filed past him without so much as a backward glance.   
      
   "Business associates," he told himself. These left immediately.   
   Another group was a little more interested in his presence but did not   
   speak to him. He was grateful. He was not yet prepared to explain his   
   right to be in this place at this time. One woman gave him a longer   
   look than the others. He ignored her.   
      
   These people milled around in the vestibule of the chapel speaking to   
   one another in hushed tones. They were waiting for a sign that it is   
   time to go to their cars for the long, wagon train journey to the   
   cemetery.   
      
   He turned his attention to the front pew. There. That must be her. She   
   sat unmoving facing the long, highly polished coffin. Alone. Very much   
   alone. The funeral home attendants stood back out of her field of   
   vision waiting for a sign that she was ready for them to wheel the   
   coffin out. Frohike took a deep breath, adjusted the tie that Byers   
   had lent him, and walked up the center aisle. He paused at the   
   entrance of the pew just behind her. She heard him and turned her head   
   slightly but not far enough to see him. He paused unsure how to proceed.   
      
      
   Several weeks earlier - Takoma Park   
      
      
   "Lone Gunmen Group, Byers speaking."   
      
   "I would like to speak to Melvin Frohike."   
      
   "He's right here." Byers covered the receiver with his hand. "Frohike,   
   it's for you."   
      
   "Who is it?" Frohike asked without looking up from fine tuning his column.   
      
   "May I ask who is calling?"   
      
   The woman laughed and said, "Tell him that it's the bean stalk."   
      
   Looking puzzled, Byers relayed the information. For a moment Frohike   
   just stared at him.   
      
   "What did you say?"   
      
   Dutifully Byers repeated what the woman had said. Frohike finally got   
   up. "I'll get it upstairs," was Frohike's reply. He took the stairs   
   two at a time. Although he was tempted to listen, Byers hung up the   
   phone when he heard Frohike pick up the receiver.   
      
   "What was that all about?" Langly had become interested when he heard   
   the bean stalk comment.   
      
   "I don't know." Byers tried to go back to the layout he was working on   
   when the phone rang but Langly kept hovering by the phone. "If you   
   pick it up he'll hear you."   
      
   "Come on, man, don't you want to know?"   
      
   "Not really," Byers lied. He didn't do it often but he knew if he gave   
   in even a bit Langly would not let up.   
      
   Langly poked at the phone for a while then began to move nonchalantly   
   towards the stairs. "You need to give him a little space," Byers warned.   
      
   "But I'm hungry!"   
      
   "Jimmy went grocery shopping. There's not much left up there. Just   
   wait until he gets back and leave Frohike alone."   
      
   "C'mon, Byers, I'll just take a quick peek. He won't even know I'm up   
   there."   
      
   "Yes, he will. He doesn't miss much."   
      
   "No, I don't." Both men jumped. Frohike had returned while they were   
   arguing.   
      
   Langly started right in. "Who was that?"   
      
   "I don't want to talk about it."   
      
   "Byers said it was a woman."   
      
   "That's none of your business, Punk."   
      
   "Okay, fine, don't tell me. I don't know why I even bothered to ask!!"   
      
   Langly stomped off up the stairs mumbling under his breath that if   
   everyone wanted to keep him in the dark he would just go get something   
   to eat and that a peanut butter and potato chip sandwich was his only   
   true friend anyway and there better damn well be some bread left.   
   Byers looked at Frohike. He took a breath to say something but then   
   thought the better of it. When Frohike wanted to talk he would.   
      
   Two days later, Frohike stood outside the Smithsonian Arts and   
   Industries building. He was early. He had taken the Metro train from   
   Takoma Park. There was an underground stop less than two blocks from   
   where he now waited. He could have asked one of the guys to drive him   
   but he wanted to see what Michelle wanted before his friends found out   
   about her. Besides who would want to drive into DC unless they   
   absolutely had to.   
      
   The building to his left was called `The Castle' but this one looked   
   the part also. Both Smithsonian buildings were wonderfully detailed   
   brick structures with stained glass windows. He supposed this one   
   looked more like a church than it's neighbor. The Castle had flag   
   topped turrets and towers although the illusion was rather tainted by   
   the scaffolding covering nearly a third of its exterior.   
      
   Frohike bided his time by getting acquainted with Spencer Fullerton   
   Baird, 1823 - 1887. His statue guarded the front entrance.   
      
   "The man was either very tall and liked to wear skirts under his suit   
   coat or the artist suffered from a surplus of bronze," a familiar   
   female voice said from behind him. Frohike turned around and looked up   
   into the face of his former lover. She had shoulder length, dark   
   auburn hair and green eyes. Dressed in a tailored business suit she   
   looked like she had just come from the office to meet him. She was   
   even taller than he remembered. She bent down to hug him.   
      
   "How have you been, Melvin?   
      
   "I've been good. What about you?"   
      
   "Until recently, very good but let's go inside and sit down because   
   that's what I need to talk to you about."   
      
   Halls Bros Funeral Home   
      
   The young girl, not quite 12, turned her head farther and looked up at   
   him. That released Frohike from his paralysis and he came around to   
   stand in front of her. She said nothing but didn't take her eyes off   
   him. He introduced himself, "My name is Melvin Frohike. I'm very sorry   
   about your mother."   
      
   The girl's eyes widen ever so slightly when he said his name. "She   
   told me you would be here." She spoke softly but without hesitation.   
   She stood up and held out her hand. "My name is Emma MacKenzie. I'm   
   pleased to meet you."   
      
   Frohike took her offered hand in both of his. She didn't have her   
   mother's height but at 11 she would still be growing. She had long,   
   brown hair that was French braided on both sides of her head and met   
   in one braid that hung down to nearly her waist. Her eyes were green   
   but they were not reddened from crying as he had expected. Maybe her   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)