The mid-September rain came down in great sheets, driven by the force of the wind, and the late afternoon sky was almost dark from the storm clouds overhead. Trees bent over and only an occasional flash of lighting permitted vision more than a few meters beyond the window. Even the security lights seemed soft and distant in the heavy deluge. It had been raining all day and large pools of water had formed on the front lawn, fed continuously by the downpour.

And yet, not all of the water came from the sky. Just inside the window, a single drop of the liquid fell noiselessly through the air and splashed with a quiet plop on a piece of glass. A close look at the surface would show that other drops of water had landed there as well.

The glass itself was set into a wooden frame and covered the picture of two smiling friends, one with curly blonde hair, the other whose hair was dark red. They were standing next to a pair of horses and both were wearing big cowboy hats.

But Lara Croft was not looking at the picture in her hand, nor was she aware of the tear that had slid uninvited down her cheek. Her gaze was outside, into the rain, but she didn't see it or hear the thunder that rumbled softly somewhere in the distance. For she was far away, remembering a quiet summer afternoon. A horseback ride. A picnic. And a good friend.

Another tear slid down her cheek and fell away, also unnoticed.

Why?

Why Diana of all people? Killed by a drunk driver and money-hungry photographers, when she had so much of life to experience. And so much of herself left to give.

She had called one night just before that fateful trip, Diana talking excitedly about a new man in her life. The two of them were going on vacation together and she had promised to call when she returned. It was the last time Lara talked with her.

They had buried Diana just over a week ago, and the woman standing next to the window was left with a very large hole in her life. How many times had they been together through the years? Lara had lost count, but the memories were still clear in her mind, almost as if they were standing on parade, waiting for inspection.

And yet, the memories were not enough to fill the hole. Not nearly enough. Not enough to make the pain go away or the tears stop and or to avert the sadness than would come unbidden at different times during the day.

It was time to get on with life. She knew it. But the reminders were all around her and difficult to avoid.

There was a knock on the doorframe behind her and Lara turned to see Ian McPherson coming into the room.

"Excuse me, Miss Lara. I..."

He stopped suddenly, seeing her face. "Oh, I'm sorry, lass," he mumbled, embarrassed. "I'll come back later." Turning, he headed for the door.

"Wait, Ian," she called after him. "Please."

The big man stopped and swung around. "What's wrong, Miss Lara? Something I can help with?"

She held up the picture frame so he could see it.

The big man nodded and crossed the room toward her. "Lass, you have to let her go."

She wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "I know, Ian. But it's hard. I can't help but remember all the times we shared and..."

Ian held up his hand. "Miss Lara, I know you're hurting. But you've got to get past it, for your own sake. Lady Diana wouldn't want you to grieve over her all this time. She'd want you to move on with your life. Keep your memories, 'cause they're precious, but don't let 'em overpower you."

"But..."

"Now you listen to me, Lara Croft." McPherson was the soldier again in an instant. "Snap out of it! Get yourself together. Right now you couldn't beat a four-year-old child on the assault course, much less an old army man. Shape up, or I'm gonna put you over my knee and tan your backside a bit."

It had the desired effect.

"In a pig's eye, Sergeant-Major," she shouted. "You couldn't catch me if your life depended on it!"

"Oh, I dunno about that." Ian dropped into a crouch, and his arm span appeared to Lara to be nearly three meters across. He advanced slowly, a devilish grin on his face. Lara, now smiling, had no choice but to back into a corner.

"See, lass?" he growled. "You might be some great adventuress over in Tibet or someplace, but right here, right now, I'm just gonna whip your little rear end."

Suddenly Lara sprang forward, attempting to get past him. But the former soldier had lost little of his reflexes and caught her around the waist, holding her lightly in his powerful grasp. She made a few half-hearted efforts to break free, then stopped abruptly. McPherson released her at once.

She turned to him, a warm smile on her face. "Thank you, Ian. You always cheer me up when I need it."

"You're welcome, lass," he replied, and then, suddenly, the gravel was back in his voice. "But remember this: I may be an old soldier, but a crafty old soldier can still paddle a skinny little Ph.D. girl when she needs it. And don't you forget it!"

Author's Note:

It is, of course, somewhat risky to include a famous person in a work of fiction. You have to be true to what most people believe the person was like. If you put words in the person's mouth, they have to be words the person might really have said or, better yet, words he or she actually said.

A case in point is the land mine issue. Not content to just give her name to the cause like so many celebrities, Diana was quite well informed on the issue and concerned for the people who's lives had been shattered by these remains of war.

I have tried to be true to the Princess...out of respect if nothing else. I believe it is entirely possible that she and Lara Croft could have been friends. Several other authors have also implied this to be the case. Because of their personal relationship, Lara would surely have been deeply saddened by her friend's death.

In doing the research for this story, I was surprised to learn of Diana's involvement in a future movie project with Kevin Costner. At first I thought it was something dreamed up by one of the tabloids, but then I found articles by CNN and Rueters, which gave the idea credence.

It wasn't until after Diana's death that Costner read the draft of the screenplay. He said he couldn't finish it, it made him cry. You know, I almost hope they go ahead and make the movie...after an appropriate amount time passes...as a tribute to Diana, since she was interested in it and she wanted to do it.

My belief is that Lady Diana was actually a fun-loving person, too. I distinctly remember hearing on several occasions that her playing tricks on people had caused quite a stir at the Palace soon after she and the Prince were married. You sense some of that in this story.

The death of the Princess affected me pretty deeply. Enough so that I wrote a short essay about her. If you wish, you can read it. Be sure to use your browser's BACK button to return here.