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One morning, as a helicopter ascended into the sky, he found himself seated in the completed garden. The bench beneath him was cool and the breeze was fresh. The three little ones came and sat on the bench across from him, all three smiling.

“We decided that you are now our new daddy,” the oldest informed him.

The other two nodded, smiling wide happy smiles.

Flustered, Juan said, “You did? Why?”

“The lady with the black hair told us,” the eldest answered.

The other two nodded.

“Which lady?” He already knew the answer in his heart.

“The lady from the mall. The nice lady who took care of us after Mommy got…” the girl hesitated. “You know. ”

“When did she tell you this?”

“Last night. In our dreams,” the little boy answered. “She’s pretty. ”

This was so like Jenni. She was making sure the kids were fine and that he was, too. He laughed, tears in his eyes, and whispered, “Oh, Loca…”

Then the kids were leaping on him, hugging him, kissing him and he held them tight.

“Daddy One! Daddy One,” they chanted.

Juan felt the shadow of pain lift from him and he threw back his head and laughed. He was so full of love he felt as if it must be bursting out of him.

He leaped to his feet and danced around with glee, the kids dangling off of him.

Somewhere, he knew Jenni was smiling down on them.

3. The Wickedest Woman in Texas Returns

Patting her hair once more, the Senator regarded her image in the mirror.

Armed with a teasing comb and the best hairspray on the market, she had manipulated her blond hair into a bubble of perfectly coiffed golden locks.

Spritzing more hairspray onto her bouffant, she closed her heavily made up eyes, complete with false eyelashes, and enjoyed the fragrance of the spray as it fell in tiny drops over her hair and face.

Opening her eyes again, she studied her reflection in the soft, white glow of the chandelier over her head and smiled. It was her best smile. Her trademark. The pearly white freshly scrubbed teeth glistened between her bright pink lips. Perfect.

Tilting her head, she fastened diamond and pearl earrings to her ears as the tranquil sounds of Frank Sinatra wafted in from the intercom.

At least Blanche had the decency to keep some good music in her old mansion.

Walking away from the vanity, she studied herself in the full length gilded mirror in Blanche’s enormous closet and turned one way then the other.

The dark pink suit looked perfect and the gold sling back heels were very nice. Her nails on her fingertips and toes were freshly polished.

Nearly three weeks ago she had awakened to utter silence in that dank old museum and realized the chickenshits had run off without her. Sitting up she had studied the room while listening for sounds of any undead in the building. At least the assholes had been decent enough to shut the door behind them.

“Fuckers,” she had hissed, then reached down and picked up her hunting rifle.

Now it was propped on a chair behind her. She had used it a few times since that day. After making sure that the idiots had really run off without her, she had slipped off the safety, slung her bag with the portable radio inside it over one shoulder, and walked into the morning air. Comfortable with the hunting rifle, she was a Texas girl after all, she had taken a deep breath as she walked to steady her nerves. If she remembered correctly, she had downed about five zombies before commandeering a truck standing empty in the middle of the road with the keys still in the ignition.

It had taken a few tries to get the engine to turn over. She knew she had been lucky on that point. The zombies banging on the windows had been damned determined.

“Oh, shit,” she now muttered and fussed with the collar of the ja