Revitalized from her workout, Alyssa sat for a moment in her SUV and enjoyed the waves of endorphins following an epic workout. She felt great. Alive. Recharged. Ready to tackle anything and anyone. Especially anyone. In the form of one very sexy, sweaty Ethan Davies.

He'd stayed on her mind for the rest of her grueling hour. A lingering heat that hummed beneath the skin, a sensation she couldn't shake as it sank deeper and deeper into her belly. Alyssa honestly couldn't recall the last time since she'd been this attracted to a man. Cancer had been a real libido killer, when coupled with chemo she'd gone almost a full year without the slightest inclination or interest towards sex.

Then the surgeries had all but obliterated it with insecurity and self-doubt. Sebastian had lamented her lack of sex drive constantly in those early days, and hadn't stuck around long after the post-op.

Kicking the car into gear Alyssa drove back to the cabin to shower and change, her thoughts all tangled up in the past.

            In hindsight, his abrupt departure had probably been a bit of a blessing, though it certainly hadn't felt like one at the time. Not when she'd had to practically crawl from vendor to vendor, dragging what remained of her dignity behind her as she dealt with the aftermath of putting the brakes on a sixty-thousand dollar wedding set for six months away.

            Most had taken one look at her--sunken eyes, waxen skin, bald head hidden until a scarf--and had cut her some slack when they had been well within their rights to tell her to fuck off and pay up. A few, however, hadn't been so easily moved.

            At the cabin, she thought about Ethan as she stripped down and stepped into the hot spray of the shower, lathering shampoo into her hair. There was a man who didn't look like he'd be easily so spooked. Solid as a rock. And just as chiseled.

            If second impressions were anything to go by.

He'd seemed nervous, though. Uncomfortable. At least, only when that they weren't locked into their respective workouts. It had been nice having him working out with her, side by side. Even nicer when his hands slid under her arms and the wall of his body radiating heat at her back. His close, unexpected proximity had almost jostled her out of her rhythm, and it had taken considerable effort to focus on the final push rather than the burst of need that simple touch had provoked.

Rising off soap, Alyssa worked through the rest of her routine, shaving legs and conditioning before shutting off the taps as the water started to cool. Because the day promised to be a gorgeous one, she dressed comfortably in jeans and tailored blouse. Alyssa slid on her heeled boots, freshened up with a bit of lipstick and mascara and some dangling earrings for fun before driving back in to the bustling heart of Salt Springs.

No longer sleepy and quiet, it was now thrumming and awake. The streets full of people enjoying the restaurants and shops, scattered on the beaches—despite the chill in the air highlighting that it was October now and far too cold to swim.

But local industries were taking advantage of the late push to the tourist season, hauling people out on boats for tours and whale watching. Up at the northern side of the island was the First Nations reservations occupying a third of Haven. Her research had revealed that there were hiking opportunities and native guides who would take you through the grounds to the tribal smoke houses where you could take part in the healing of a sweat lodge or listen to the engaging stories told in the native tongues, translated of course, by the elders of the tribe.

The chief would greet you in full splendor and regalia, headdress and all.

Then there were craft stores where you could purchase anything from clothing, jewelry or whittled figurines, even homemade baked goods. All of which were certainly on her list of things she'd planned to do during her stay.

But first on her list was to visit Eva's gallery. To see it in person instead of online. After a stellar workout, all Alyssa wanted from this point on was to brush off the dregs of the horrible mood dogging her since their first face to face the other day. This was her sister and she wanted time with her, to start building the bridge back to getting to know one another.

Five years apart was a lifetime. So much had happened and she hadn't told Eva any of it.

Her rational being that email was far too impersonal to impart most of the information she had to share. And they would have to talk about it sooner rather than later.

Out of Focus gallery sat on the corner of Main Street and the energy surrounding the place was huge. A crowd swelled on the curb, some with their phones out jockeying for a selfie. Eva had warned Alyssa that the crowds were still a bit thick and that bets to avoid the front door when she arrived, but seeing it for herself, Alyssa had to admit she was surprised by it all.

Following Eva's instructions, she slipped around to the back end of the buildings where Eva and Jenelle's vehicles were parked. The backdoor was an unassuming steel panel with 'NO ENTRY' slapped across it. Alyssa tried the handle, found it unlocked and slid the door open.

And almost walked straight into Eva.

"Oh, you're here," she said, popping back and brown eyes a little large, her expression startled.

"Course I am." Shutting the door behind her. Alyssa tucked her hands into her back pockets. "Some place you've got here."

"It's a zoo." Eva rolled her eyes but her smile was all radiant joy and pride. "Do you want me to have Jenelle show you around?"

Alyssa tried not to frown. Really tried. "Why Jenelle?"

"I keep away from the floor," Eva said and mocked shuddered. "If I step out there now, I'll be pinned in a corner all day with camera phones in my face or pictures shoved under my nose to sign. Jenelle insisted we broaden our social media stamp. Tumblr. Instagram. Even Pintrest. Says its 'smart branding'."

"I would have to agree." 

Eva's lips drew into a scowl. "You're just as bad as she is."

Alyssa shrugged a cool shoulder. "Gotta strike while the iron is hot. And yours is really hot right now."

"Christ, don't remind me. I'm so behind schedule." Eva dragged her hands over her face and a weary look crept into her eyes, softening Alyssa's edge enough to want to go to her, to comfort her. She was used to this—to be needed. To leap in a fix things. That had always been her role.

The fixer. The caregiver. The helper.

"Hey," Alyssa braced Eva's shoulders, gave them a little squeeze. "Anything you want me to do?"

Eva drew into Alyssa's arms, into an easy kind of embrace they'd shared a hundred times before, just like this, with Annelise's cheek on her shoulder. Only this was Eva now. But it was nice to have this moment, however small. Something familiar amidst all this...unfamiliar.

"Not unless you know how to edit for colour saturation and lighting."

Alyssa snorted. "Sorry, you're shit out of luck there."

Eva laughed. "Sucks to be me, I guess." Sighing, she stepped back, and banded an arm across her chest, hooking the other arm over the elbow to stretch out her tricep. "I've got a shit-load of images to process. Jenelle informed me this morning our latest batch was swallowed up almost an hour after posting. Now the hounds are baying for fresh blood and I must slice open my veins and deliver."

"See you're still melodramatic as ever."

At that, Eva's face scrunched into a smirk. "Bite me."

"And childish."

"Bite me on my lily-white butt cheek."

They both laughed at that. The cheerful sound banishing a few more tendrils of awkward that still clung between them. Thick, spongy layers of fluff that had wrapped around Alyssa's heart over the years, like a sheep's winter coat shedding in the spring. It wasn't quite gone. But there was a sliver of something sliding through, and she latched on to it. Greedy and desperate, needing that connection that had once been so easy.

So effortless.

"There you are, awesome." At the sound of Jenelle's approaching voice, both Eva and Alyssa turned. Jenelle was dressed in flowing dress pants and crisp blouse. Her thick red mane pulled away in an elegant twist leaving her gorgeous face unobstructed. "Eva, we need to talk. I've just got off the phone with the contractors and they have the estimate for review."

Eva arched a brow. "How are the numbers lining up this time?"

"Better, but I'm still concerned about the payment schedule. And then there's Letitia Grier we need to deal with at one-thirty."

"Shit. The book. I completely forgot..." Eva turned flustered eyes to Alyssa. "Sorry, things have been so crazy lately. We're knee deep in these fucking expansion plans. Maybe you could come with us for the lunch meeting?"

And just like that, that tenuous grip Alyssa had on her sister was slipping through her fingers, like sand. The more she'd struggled to hold on to it, the faster it would slip away. Until she was holding nothing but air.

So, why bother trying?

"No thanks," Alyssa interrupted. "This is business. I'd only get in the way. Go on."

Relief washed over Eva's face and that struck a sour note in Alyssa's mouth. "You sure?"

"Very."

"Where are you going? I need you too," Jenelle said, reaching for Alyssa's arm to stop her retreat.

"What?" Alyssa asked, careful to avoid that seeking touch. "What for?"

Jenelle looked to Eva, all accusation coupled with mild humour. "You seriously didn't tell her?"

"I didn't get a chance before you barged in here demanding I review the updated estimate."

Jenelle flashed her palm in front of Eva's face. "Yeah, yeah, save it, you were stalling."

"Will someone tell me what's going on?"

"We're looking to hire a social media manager," Jenelle said, crossing her arms casually over her chest. "Someone who can oversee the brand and make sure we're living up to its full potential. Now that we've expanded into multiple platforms, between answering customer inquiries on the floor, managing sales and overseeing expansion plans—I'm stretched as thin as I can go without breaking. I thought, since you're sticking around for a few months, that maybe you'd like to come on board and take on the role."

"Me?" 

"Sure, why not, right?" Jenelle looked between Alyssa and Eva hopefully. "This is what you do, isn't it? Brand management?"

Did. But Alyssa swallowed that traitorous little word and latched on to denial. Soon as the investigation was cleared up she'd planned to have a sit down with the board, outlining why she deserved her job back. And that promotion. "More or less."

"Great. So you'll be perfect for the task." Jenelle's smile flashed. "We'll pay you a salary, of course. I've got a figure penned out but once we go over the details later, I think it's more than fair but we can definitely negotiate. I've left a sheet next to the computer in my office. All the social media accounts are there with user names and logins, though I always save to the computer so they should all just pop right open. Why don't you dive in, mess around and see what you can manage?"

It was like getting hit by a train that left you dazzled and dazed rather than dead. Jenelle was all smooth efficiency and competent maneuvering and before Alyssa knew what had happened she was plopped down in a quiet room in front of Jenelle's desk and facing twin monitors. The desktop was riddled with icons—most of which she recognized, and the gallery information email up with dozens streaming in.

Questions.

Orders.

Commission request

Fan mail.

Jesus.

Next to the keyboard was a list of a dozen different accounts from Facebook to LinkedIn, along with a note at the bottom with bullet points for tasks and To-do's. Clear out and respond to incoming emails. Follow up with comments and inquiries, all order requests sent to separate account for processing. And on it went.

A small voice inside of her wanted her to get up and walk out. Leave Jenelle to do her own work, but then she thought about her sister's face as she'd paled at the thought of her rapidly growing little social media empire.

Alyssa had planned to come here to learn about Eva's little business; what better way to do that than to apply herself where she was needed? Besides, it wasn't like she had anything else planned for the day, and there was a salary negotiation on the table to compensate for her efforts.

With that decided, Alyssa, metaphorically—since she was wearing a t-shirt after all—rolled up her sleeves, and set to work. The emails took a bit of finessing, but soon she found her stride.

Creating folders under the email's inbox, she ran searches to narrow the field and slotted them in to respective categories, brining organized order to the chaos. When that was well under control, she shifted gears and moved on to Twitter, handling the notifications and following up on re-tweets and faves.

Acknowledging reputable sources for their feedback, articles and comments.

Realizing their followers list was a nightmare, Alyssa created specific lists—for art authorities, celebrity endorsements, media and critics. It would take a lot of time to fill those lists so Alyssa put a note in the calendar to follow up on that task tomorrow, if she decided to continue within this role, before transitioning over to Facebook.

And sat back with a gasp.

Two thousand private messages. Nearly twice that in notifications, and the numbers were rising before her eyes. Alyssa cocked her wrist, sighed. This was going to be a long day. Eyes narrowed, fingers primed over the keys, she went to war.

Time bled away as she was sucked into the task. Some of the comments made her smile, more than a few pulled out a laugh. But more than anything they all struck her right in the heart. This was an entire community that banded together, united through Eva's art and the wrenching, poignant stories she and Marshall uncovered. What had started with secrets had now expanded into something much fuller and richer.

The newest additions to the Faces of Haven fan page was generating a lot of new interest, a series of images of a young woman. And with each image her story expanded and broadened until Alyssa was lost in those words.

There's a man with Down syndrome who rides always on the Expo line between 8:15 and 8:30 in the morning. I usually wind up on his train, and in the early days would watch as he ambled from one end of the car, to the other, first trying to get a particular seat (he likes to sit close to the window so he can look outside).

Once he has his seat then he starts to sing. Loudly. He'll try to prod someone into joining him. But when no one does, the singing will continue for the entire length of the ride when he gets off fourteen stops later.

One particular day, I was in a rotten mood and had snapped when he'd asked me to sing with him.

"I just wanna sing," he'd said, with all the child-like innocence of a pre-schooler. "It makes me happy. Don't you wanna be happy?"

So every day, whenever I ride the train, I stand so he can have his special seat, and then I sing with him. Loudly and badly—even if it means I get a lot of hostile glares or annoyed grumbles. At first I was doing it because by singing with him once, he would be silent for the rest of the trip. I thought of it as a public service. Give him what he wants so he'll shut up.

But then it changed. I'm not sure when. I'd start looking for him. And the days when we didn't have our morning song, I noticed I wouldn't feel the same.

One weekend I came downtown on a Saturday morning to visit the mall downtown, not aware that he was there with his mother until I heard him cry out, "There she is, momma! There's the nice lady who sings with me on the train. Just like you do."

His mother raced over to me, tears in her eyes and took both of my hands. She kissed my cheeks and thanked me. Thanked me for being so kind to her son. And said that since he'd met me, she'd never seen him so happy.

Outside of his programs and activities, he considered me his first real friend.

That was two years ago. Now I am not only happy to sing with him. I'm honoured. Because of him, every day I come into work with a smile. And sometimes one or two of the train riders will join us. When we part ways we're all smiling. We're all happy. And it's beautiful.

I think we all could do with a little more singing, and happy, in our lives. 

            A tear splashed the back of Alyssa's hand, so completely moved by the outpouring of comments with people highlighting either shared experiences with this young man, or hopes that one day they will get to ride his train and sing along with him. Who wished this incredible young man well, sharing their own stories about mental illness and the acceptance of society.

            The last image was of this woman holding his hands. Their grip strong and an inspiring beacon of friendship thriving despite their differences. That image gave her hope. And reassurance.

            If these two could find their way together and overcome such boundaries, then she and Eva could find their way back together, also.