Bowman

After an hour of playing a variety of old tunes, John stopped, took a cloth from the case and carefully polished the ancient wood and placed the instrument back in its case.

"Sure was pretty music, but I don't recognize any of those pieces," Molly said. "What about you Vik, know any of those?"

"No. Don't even know what that thing is," Vicky admitted, staring at the case like she expected it to pop open any second.

John reached down and took the violin from the case and handed it to her. "It's a Violin. A very old violin. The man who taught me to play made it for me. Look inside," he said, indicating the hole in top of the instrument. "I believe he wrote his name there, if it hasn't faded out."

Vicky turned the instrument to allow the light to pass through the hole John had indicated. "Something - - Stratavaris. "Who's he?" Vicky asked.

"An old violin maker that I befriended. He liked me, taught me to play, and made that for me. It helps to pass the time out there." John answered.

"That's right, Molly said you were a spacer," Vicky said as she handed the violin back and watched it disappear back into the case. "Guess you’ve been around the track a few times," she added.

"I have no idea what you mean," John replied.

"You know, married, kids, all that," she answered.

"No kids." John retorted.

"Married then." Vicky insisted.

"Now and again," John answered. "Widower," He added.

"Me too." Vicky admitted.

"Molly pretty well filled me in the first day I was here," John said, as he prepared to leave. "Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I think I’ll retire for the evening," he added

as he rose to leave.

"No need to hurry off. Night's young yet." Molly objected.

"I think Molly’s still a little disappointed that sparks didn't fly when she tried to rub us together," Vicky teased with a little nervous laugh.

"You know what they say, friction causes heat, and enough heat causes fire. It's just a matter of having the right fuel." John returned with a wink as he turned to leave. Vicky followed as John went up the stairs to his room. He entered, leaving the door open. Vicky opened her door but didn’t enter. She paused for a moment then walked across the hall to Johns door.

"Mind if we talk now?" She asked as she leaned against the open door. She wasn't exactly dressed for the period like most of the people he had seen around town.

"Why not." John answered as he sat down in the old upholstered chair. He waved a hand at the bed, the only other place in the room to sit, and added, "Make your self at home."

Vicky perched on the edge of the bed and drew in a lung full of air. The act did nothing to hide the fact she was far from flat cheated.

"I hope Molly's clumsy attempts at match making didn't put you off. She means well but tends to get a little carried away," she explained as she leaned back on the bed.

"She was rather transparent from the start," John admitted. "I notice you don't dress in the period styles like most of the people," he added.

"Can't see it." Vicky answered as she tried to find a more comfortable position on the bed. "You sleep on this lumpy thing!"

"It's that or the floor." He replied. "Slept on a lot worse," he added as he watched her shift about on the bed.