 
### The Thorn And The Rose

### By Anna Scott Graham

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 by Anna Scott Graham

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this ebook. It is the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoy this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

This is a work of fiction. Names and characters, incidents and places are either products of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

For my nephew C.J. who was born right before I began this novel, offering a bright spark during one of the most uncertain times in my life. And for Maria Perry Mohan for her tremendous support during the writing.

**Table Of Contents**

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 1

Warm sun streamed through lavender curtains that Alvin had forgotten to close. In a half-awake state he reached for Jenny, the light catching his eyes. Squinting, he stumbled from bed to use the toilet.

Returning to his room, he glanced toward Chelsea's door, finding her empty crib. Inhaling deeply, he didn't smell the coffee. If Jenny wasn't in bed, she was downstairs, feeding their daughter, having made the morning brew. But there was no familiar scent, no one in their usual place, no expected sound. Alvin could always hear his daughter's babbling, yet all he noted were Tommie's drones from the sofa. On trembling legs, Alvin walked to his room where Jenny's bedside remained undisturbed. Sitting in that empty spot, Alvin put his head in his hands and began to weep.

When Tommie woke, he smelled coffee. Hearing Alvin in the kitchen, Tommie got up, gave a quick _hello_ , then went upstairs to pee. The house possessed an eerie silence, one similar to the morning Betsy had died. Alvin's mother had been still for hours when Tommie and Rae arrived, Alvin waiting for them in the kitchen. Tommie had seen dead bodies; his parents, Maisie Cassel, those aged, expected to go. He hadn't seen Tracy Cassel; only Sam had witnessed that tragedy.

Tommie came down, put on his boots, and headed into the kitchen. There stood a walking cadaver, Alvin's pallor pale and haunted. He was pouring another cup of coffee, and met Tommie's stare with a lost, tortured gaze.

"Oh hey Tommie, you sleep okay? You want some coffee? I made a whole pot. Forgot and just started adding the usual amount of coffee."

"Yeah, go on. I uh, I slept all right."

Tommie sat, unable to stand. He didn't ask how Alvin had slept; shitty, by the looks of it. As when he went to bed last night, Tommie still had no idea what would happen between the couple, but he hoped it would be akin to reconciliation. Anything else and Alvin might not last.

"You want some toast?" Alvin said, handing Tommie the cup. "I can make you some toast."

Tommie sipped the strong liquid. "Sure."

Alvin said nothing else. Tommie had never noted such quiet from his friend, his best friend, one never before aware of deep, lasting pain. Only with Caroline Atherton had Alvin felt this level of desperation, but that was more of bewilderment. Once Tommie had explained the abuse that woman had tried to inflict, Alvin had blanched. This time, the agony was his own making.

Drinking his coffee, Tommie sighed. This with Jenny was Alvin's fault, but qualified. For all the moments Alvin could be so clear-headed, his limitations eventually won out, what had brought them to this morning, a Sunday in August, only a few weeks left of summer. The barbecue sat outside Tommie's head; some years everyone crammed into the house, finding a place to sit, eat, dance even, while outside the storm raged. None of that had happened last night, only a great chasm landing Alvin and Tommie on this farm, the rest at the other.

Tommie assumed Rae was awake, wanted to call her. He wanted to know how she had slept, how Jenny slept, how Sam slept. Tommie wanted to know if Jenny was at all ready to rethink words she had said falling asleep last night, purging Alvin from her life. Tommie had never heard Jenny so frightened or debilitated. Setting toast in front of Tommie, Alvin stood before him as Jenny had been in speech, two people so needy of the other, yet feeling abandoned.

"Thanks," Tommie said, taking a bite.

Alvin sat, finished what was in his cup, then looked at Tommie. "I'll never get her back. It's over."

Taking a drink, Tommie nearly choked. He had to stand, coughing badly. "Now Alvin, that's a load of..."

"You heard her. I did too. I was standing outside the door and I heard her. She said I never loved her, never ever. Oh Tommie, oh my God!"

Alvin lowered his head to the table, his weeping audible as Tommie went to his side. He ached, not used to any place but his own bed. Rae and Jenny had that spot last night, where Tommie wanted to be later with his wife, Jenny here with Alvin. Tommie felt his friend's tremors, heard Alvin's cries. They increased as did words: _Why did I do that? Why did I hurt her?_

Alvin's voice was different. Even through tears, it was adult, aware. Alvin was aware and Tommie gripped him. "It'll be okay, Alvin. It'll be okay." Tommie hoped his words were the truth.

Turning in sleep, Sam heard mewling. Sitting up, he saw Alana with Chelsea in her arms. Lana caught his eyes, a sad face on a usually happy girl. Chelsea fussed and Alana carried the baby toward the kitchen.

Sam was glad to see them leave. His head throbbed; he would need a beer that morning, maybe two. A hair of the dog, then one to nip at his heels, chasing away Sam's dreams. They had spun all night, but he never before recalled dreaming after getting so drunk. That night reality had somehow found a chink in his inebriated armor, spiraling Sam farther than he'd been in ages.

He almost fell off the couch, his head ringing, stomach aching. His heart was beyond description and as he lurched to the bathroom, he fell to his knees, vomiting. Not for what his stomach found unpalatable, more his mind. Then he heard Rae's soft voice; she wanted to know if he needed anything.

"No," he muttered, wiping his mouth with his arm. He stood, taking down his jeans, then sat on the seat, trying to find his bearings. As urine flowed, he wished the contents of his head could as easily fall away, wishing all he'd said last night hadn't emerged, and even more, all Jenny had revealed.

He stood, flushed, washing his hands. He wished for a bath; he would lean back, thrust his head under to where sound was unrecognizable. He had felt something from Jenny on that first introduction, Easter 1975. Now Sam was nearly thirty-four years old; much of his life had been lived with agony, brutally applied. Tracy's death had set him back, but Jenny! He stared into the mirror. As he had said to Tommie, the apple didn't fall far from the tree.

Sam found Rae near the kitchen, her face still disheveled. He walked toward her, noting the master bedroom door was closed. "She still sleeping?" he whispered.

Rae nodded, grasping his hand. "Didn't move all night. I think it was the drinks."

He took a deep breath, finding an open can of beer on the table. Sam smiled, then sat, gripping the can. It felt good going down, bitter and icy, reaching a familiar spot in his stomach, how Jenny's news had hit him. She and Tracy, both women he loved; Sam had loved his wife as much as a kid of twenty could. He took the teenagers' relationships with a grain of salt. They were fine now, but so young. How had he coped with Tracy's revelations, Sam tried to remember, finishing that beer faster than he'd planned.

"You need another?" Rae asked.

"Uh, yeah. Where'd Lana take Chelsea?"

"Outside. She's just grumpy."

He looked to the kitchen window, but couldn't see them. He didn't hear them until Rae opened the door, going to the outside fridge for his beer. Chelsea whined as Lana smoothly told her it would be all right, the same words Sam had murmured to Lillian, only a tiny thing. She would be all right, going with her mother to some other place.

Sam moved to the hallway. That bedroom door was still closed. Jenny had been off limits since he'd met her and now it made sense why Tommie had said it was best she was with Alvin, not with Sam. She was too close, and why was that farmer always so goddamned right?

Rae returned, setting an unopened can on the table. "You want anything to eat?"

"Toast," he mumbled, removing the tab. He slipped it into the hole where it drifted to the bottom of the can.

He looked up, saw Rae's small grin. "Gonna cut your tongue doing that."

"Not much'll hurt me now."

Rae didn't answer, turning to the counter.

After Sam ate, he kissed Rae, her arms wrapping round him. That was as demonstrative as she would get, but her grip was fierce, and Sam accepted it. Alana came in as they broke apart and her face showed more worry than Sam had ever seen on her. On Chelsea too; the baby realized a change, not only in her surroundings.

"She's been asking for Jenny," Alana said.

Rae collected the fussing girl, moving her from hip to hip. Noting how that pained Rae, Sam took Chelsea, kissing her cheek. "It's all right sweetie," he crooned. "Let's go find your mama."

Rae's gaze questioned, but he nodded. "It'll be okay," Sam said more to himself than to any of the females in the kitchen.

"Well, it is nearly nine. She might as well start getting up. Tommie'll be calling soon." Rae's voice was circumspect.

"Uh-huh." Sam stepped to the master bedroom, jostling Chelsea, getting small giggles from her. Opening the door, he wondered how Jenny would be. She wouldn't be dead, only sleeping.

She was, but not deeply. As Sam entered the room, Chelsea recognized the long brown hair spilled over Tommie's pillow. "Ma-ma, Ma-ma," she said, wiggling in Sam's hold.

Sam's breath was taken as Jenny turned his way. She wasn't dead, wasn't bleeding profusely, nor was she six months' pregnant. She wasn't lying helplessly on the floor of their apartment, her father's wasted corpse next to her. Tracy's father shot her in the chest at close range, but hadn't mutilated the baby. Instead he had then put the gun to the roof of his mouth, the end of his miserable life in bright red and dull gray flecks all over the living room. Sam had knelt by his wife, holding her hand, telling her she would be just fine, their baby too. A paramedic hoisted Tracy onto a gurney as earnest words slipped into ears Sam knew weren't listening.

Jenny, however, motioned for her daughter. "Oh baby, lemme hold you."

Sam set Chelsea on the edge of the bed. The agile child romped to her mother's side, Jenny taking her as a salve. Sam couldn't watch and turned to leave.

"Sam," Jenny began. "Don't go."

He hesitated.

"Please?" she pleaded.

Tracy had been limp, her breaths halting as commotion around him swirled into frenzy. Her pregnancy was obvious, all minds to saving the baby. Sam sat down, not smelling blood or death, only Tommie and Rae and Chelsea's wet bottom.

"Yeah honey, I'm here." But Sam didn't touch Jenny.

She leaned up, falling into his arms. A warm, living woman clung to Sam in so many ways, her calling of his name like precious gulps of air, filling both their sets of lungs.

They lay side by side, Chelsea having been collected by Rae, who popped in long enough to say that Tommie had called, said they were all right. A relative term, about as fine as the twosome in her own bed, Rae later thought. She gathered the happy child, felt a squishy diaper, and on her way out closed the door most of the way.

Once Chelsea was gone, Jenny began to cry. Sam held her, whispering her entire name that could be said in one breath _._ He repeated _Jenny Cope_ over and over as her tears flowed, but her body remained still.

Then she turned to him, tracing his eyes, how Sam realized a few tears had fallen, but he knew not from where. Too many places within him could have been responsible and the last place he wanted to accept was from exactly where he was, lying next to her.

"Sam, oh Jesus Christ! I don't even know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything honey. Nothing at all."

Jenny nestled against him, her breathing finding a normal rhythm. "Thanks for bringing her in. I really needed that."

"I know." He stroked her hair, then kissed the top of her forehead.

Jenny remained still for a minute. Then she glanced up. "Is he here?"

Her trembling voice told Sam everything; terror, worry, and almost indiscernible, hope. As Sam swallowed, he gripped her tighter. "No. He's at the farm. Tommie's with him."

She nodded, then found a place against him where her tears restarted. Were they from that great anxiety or only the flicker of what she dreaded admitting? Sam inhaled that more than anything. Jenny clung to him, but her heart still beat for only one other. And, Sam exhaled, it wasn't him.

As Jenny calmed beside him, Sam heard kids rumbling, not only Chelsea, but Max and Steve, Lexi too. Voices whispered and wondered, but there were no answers. Jenny never left Sam's side, but she too sensed they weren't alone. Yet, the two most important members of this extended family remained absent.

As daylight peeked through the window, Sam observed a long low dresser crowded with piled clothes, dusty picture frames against the tall mirror attached to the back of the dresser. Books, papers, and boxes jostled for space while drawers weren't closed all the way, a few crooked in their placement. Tommie and Rae had lived here from the time Tommie's parents died, way before Tracy and Lillian were gone.

To Jenny's left, Rae's nightstand sported a clock, two books, and wadded Kleenexes. The tissues looked fresh, everything else with a layer of dust like the rest of the furniture, this house timeless. Sam had grown up with Tommie Smith and Alvin Harris as additional big brothers. He never got on with Adam or Randy Harris; Sam was more of a town boy, but whenever Jacob was with his best friends, Sam tagged along, never a huge gap between them due to Alvin.

Alvin's mental deficiencies allowed an easy progression from Jacob and Tommie to Alvin and Sam. Jacob had few months on Tommie, with an edgier temperament requiring that number one position. Tommie, even before his accident, was always the moderator, hearing Sam's voice when Jacob's grew rowdy. Then after Tommie was hurt he was a calm in the storm of the Cassel brothers' chaotic home life, their drunken father either raging or unconscious. The Smith farm was a haven, with Alvin just up the road, another bastion of reason, but differently. Not premeditated, what got Alvin into trouble sometimes, causing this whole misunderstanding. He hadn't wanted a son that might think less of him.

Sam closed his eyes, Jenny's frame warm against his. They all had some problem and here he was again in love with another sexually abused woman. How ironic, and Sam wanted to laugh out loud, then drown in the paradox that a man like a brother, slow and dimwitted, had managed to snare all Sam wanted. Yet due to that disadvantage, Alvin was close to losing Jenny as Sam had lost Tracy. Sam was always losing the ones he loved, but at least with Jenny, it wasn't permanent.

Cradling her, Sam considered all he had learned; was it his fate to be attracted to women so damaged? Was that even the right word? They were injured, but Jenny was breathing, not that smoothly, yet she wasn't dead. Why hadn't he seen it, why hadn't he picked up on it? Too close to the bone; she had slipped under his radar. In the past Sam had been drawn to women like Jenny and Tracy, women needing a savior, a few relationships with similar girls where he finally had to get out, unable to breathe. Maybe it was due to Jenny's hands-off status from their initial encounter. From that first day, she was Alvin's. Looking like shit and Sam winced; she had been broken on that first Easter due to her past.

Because her father had assaulted her, done unspeakable things to her. She had been honest last night in front of God and everybody, once he'd admitted his truths, or most of them. Only out in the barn had Sam given that last piece to Tommie, answering why for the last twelve years Jacob had been a drunk. It hadn't been only Tracy; Lillian remained.

Tracy's dad had taken Sam's wife and daughter, but Jenny's father had only brought Jenny this way. Where she would be otherwise, Sam had no idea. Right now she was safe in his arms, and he would die to keep her that way. And, he sighed, loosening his grip, he would die a little more when she returned where she belonged.

Sam got off the bed first, helping Jenny stand. She was shaky, more from having been horizontal for so long than the upset which lingered. He led her to the bathroom, finding a sea of uneasy faces in the kitchen. He nodded and all the Smith kids turned back to the table.

Rae returned his nod with her own, Chelsea in her arms. The baby was chipper, so many at her beck and call. Sam wondered if Jenny was hungry, maybe she would prefer to sit quietly in the dining room. Sam only wanted to offer what she could take. Then slowly, gently, he would urge her to where she needed to be, with Alvin in his house, in his arms. The hardest thing Sam Cassel had ever faced was allowing his tiny infant daughter to be unfettered from tubes keeping her alive. Lillian wasn't truly living, air pumped in and out of sickly, premature lungs. Sam had given permission for his child to be disentangled from that entourage, Jacob's hand in his, keeping Sam upright. Now another had to be relinquished; like cutting her free, Sam would surrender Jenny to the man who needed her more. Sam wasn't sure if anyone could love Jenny Cope more than he did, but he was willing to accept Alvin needed her more.

She stepped from the bathroom, her face dry but aching. She glanced to the kitchen, Chelsea happy in Rae's grasp. Jenny motioned to the dining room, where Sam led her. They sat at the table, Rae bringing cups of coffee for each.

"Start with this and we'll go from there." Rae's face was to Sam's, a sharp eye that he took with a half-smile.

"Oh god Rae, thanks," Jenny mumbled. "Can I have Chelsea?"

"Of course honey." Rae left and as if the kids had heard, Chelsea appeared, again pleased to see her mother.

Sam drank the coffee while watching Jenny with her baby. Such an intimate bond existed, one he had known only for moments. He'd held Lillian, but she was more like a doll swaddled so he barely saw her features. That had been on purpose and thinking back, he was relieved she hadn't been fully exposed. Hardly anything to her at six months' gestation, and truthfully, no one had expected her to survive. Most of the nurses were in disbelief she had lived through the cesarean section. Tracy had been all but dead arriving at the hospital, but Sam had witnessed his only child brought forth, Jacob arriving after the delivery. Even if Jacob had been right at Sam's side, it would have made no difference. Lillian Ellen Cassel was doomed, nothing doctors or loved ones could do.

Sam juxtaposed that aged memory with the laughing, chubby baby in front of him, Chelsea nearly a year old. As Jenny nibbled on her daughter's face, the first signs of life appeared. Sam felt that warmth and connection, but not to him. Jenny had mumbled it was over, nothing left between them, but her words were borne of pain. Chelsea removed that sting, an ache fading in front of Sam's eyes. Turning, he found Rae, her face aware of the same.

"Jenny, you want some breakfast?" Rae called.

She nodded, absorbed in her daughter. Sam breathed again, Jenny with a momentary need for someone who could speak a language only they knew. He was just an interpreter, having kept within him all Tracy had endured, enabling him to fathom a lasting betrayal. But Chelsea's father had removed it from Jenny. As Sam sighed, heavy footsteps were heard.

Sam looked to the door. Rae was gone, but Tommie stood with Alvin alongside.

Slowly Jenny gazed that way, but only Chelsea made sound, laughing gurgles. Then speech; "Da-da!"

That giggly girl was thrust into Sam's arms as Jenny stood. In the eyes' of others Sam watched what happened next, Tommie's falling countenance beside Alvin's gaping mouth as Jenny blew past both, running from the house.

Chapter 2

Crouched in the abandoned horse stall, Jenny heaved tears from some unknown place. Alvin had opened the floodgates, but still, from where did this originate?

That morning in Sam's arms, she had felt another brother around her. Previously, Jenny had sisters, but hadn't known their love for ages. Here in Arkendale, Oregon, brothers comforted, protected, and loved her. Jess and Jane were Jenny's past, Tommie and Sam, even Jacob, were Jenny's future.

But not Alvin; she knew that as soon as she saw his blue eyes rimmed in red, then inhaled his warm frame. As she rushed by, he was close, but miles away. The only love of her life was beyond her reach.

Was it the dreams, a night full of her past from as far back as she could recall; Jenny hadn't dreamed of her childhood since her time in Tampa, Joni's shrink dredging well-buried memories, what had made Jenny run, eventually taking her to New Mexico, then bringing her here, to Oregon. To Alvin, and Jenny lost it all over again.

She concentrated on breathing, easier than considering family, her family. She was the youngest of three girls and how she had loved her father, a man that could do no wrong. Missing how he leered at her sisters and ignored his wife, Jenny accepted her daddy's ample kisses and hugs, never suspecting anything sinister. She never suspected a thing until it was too late.

Tears returned for ideas long buried, a family Jenny lost at thirteen. She had lost those parents, barely holding on to Jess and Jane. Then at seventeen her father's temper rose; he wanted a divorce, would head west. He would leave Colorado Springs, but take his youngest. Jenny was going to be with him forever.

She sat in the same stall as she had with Liz almost two years before. That Thanksgiving, Jenny had comforted a girl now turning into a beautiful young woman. Liz's long curly hair was shorter, her friendship with Max evolving into an unacknowledged but deep love. Jenny had seen that emerge over summer, but two years ago Liz had been a scared young teen, and Jenny had only wanted to protect her from Chad Lambert. At seventeen, Jenny had no one, not even her mother, for that role. Jenny's mother raised little protest that her husband would depart, taking their daughter with him, the moment Jenny Cope knew her life had to change.

She gripped her knees, rocking back and forth. Setting her head against the tops of her legs, she remembered her parents' last fight, edgy and silent. If Jenny wasn't gone before her father returned from an upcoming business trip, she wouldn't survive. Yet, where could she flee? Jane was barely scraping by in Pueblo and Jess still lived at home, trying to act as a go-between, but the girls' father had no desire for his eldest child. All his attentions were focused on his youngest and with a year of high school remaining, Jenny was trapped. If he moved out and took her with him, what use was living?

Jenny inhaled hay and cows, but no chickens, not the scent of Alvin's barn. Alvin had cried with her as she explained exactly why she had fled. Packing a few belongings and all her waitressing earnings, Jenny left a note in a cookbook, one place only her mother might find. She fully explained _why_ she was leaving, but didn't expect her mother to believe her. The note was for Jenny's peace of mind. If nothing else, at least she had revealed the truth.

Breaths were halting as the memory washed over Jenny, that last time she saw her sisters. Their father's week-long absence brought Jane north, but Jenny didn't reveal her plans, not wanting anyone to dissuade her or provide any indication of her whereabouts. She had decided to go east, to the south, far from high desert and thunderstorms, not assuming those rumbles would follow her. She had given each sister a kiss, noting alcohol on Jane's breath, but none in Jess', who was off to Denver for a few days' respite. Jenny's oldest sister had friends there and as Jenny watched them leave, she was as firmly wrapped in her own arms as there in Tommie's barn. Alone, but resolute; she would have to live for herself now.

Hearing footsteps, again that notion stirred within her. Alvin didn't want to build a family, didn't want any more of her children. She loved him, how she adored him, but she had said goodbye to loved ones before. Seeing Tommie enter the stall, Jenny winced. She would start over again, leaving behind this family too.

"You okay?" he asked.

Jenny nodded, slowly releasing her arms.

He sat next to her and she reached for his bad hand, gently caressing his mangled thumb. Leaning her head against his right shoulder, Jenny again began to cry.

"Honey listen, I know it's hard but he loves you and he's so goddamned sorry. A day late, but believe me Jenny, he knows he was wrong."

She inhaled. "Tommie, it's over."

He took a deep breath. "Oh now Jenny..."

"No, it is. I do love him but..."

"Honey, you stop this." He turned her face his way. "You're past all that now. This's your home, yours and Chelsea's, with Alvin."

She shook her head. "I left one family and promised I'd never let that happen again. Well here it is, fucking 1977, and yeah, I have a child, but Alvin..." She paused.

"He loves you."

"Oh Jesus." Jenny looked away. "Alvin doesn't need me."

"Hell, now Jenny you know that's not true!"

She stood, walking as though her legs had fallen asleep. Then she turned Tommie's way. "He needs someone uncomplicated. All my shit's just too much for him. I can't leave him Chelsea, but once I'm settled, he can come see her. I won't deny him that."

Tommie rose to his feet, taking her by the forearms. "You realize what you're saying? That'll kill him! He loves you, you and Chelsea. He can't make it without either one of you!"

"I never should've stayed before," she whispered, on the brink of another meltdown.

"Jesus Jenny! Please honey, just give it a couple of days. This'll all blow over and then it'll be Chelsea's birthday, and you'll be fine. You and Alvin'll be just fine!"

Tommie's heart pounded. She was willing to walk away from Alvin, from them all. Taking Chelsea and running away was all Jenny knew to do, but this wasn't Florida, Alvin wasn't some pick-up. They were her family and that's when Tommie knew. She wouldn't risk losing another set of kin, preferring to make the break herself.

He stroked her face with that gnarled limb. "Jenny, we _all_ love you, every single one of us. You belong here, you and Chelsea and not just with Alvin, but with me, Rae, the kids, Jacob, Debbie." He hesitated, sensing the presence of others. "Sam."

Jenny looked up. In the stall's doorway stood Rae and Sam, Alvin behind them. He carried their daughter, tears falling down his face.

She shook her head. "No," her voice clear and strong. Looking at Alvin, catching his blue eyes, Jenny didn't blink. "It's over."

"Jenny, what? No wait honey, no! I love you, oh Jenny Cope, please no, you can't go!"

Alvin's plaintive wails drifted as Jenny left the barn, heading toward the house. Alvin was frozen and Rae took his daughter while Tommie steadied his friend.

"Tommie, oh my God no, she can't go! She can't take Chelsea!"

Tommie nearly buckled from the weight of Alvin's despair, Sam at their sides.

"I'm gonna go talk to her," Rae huffed, leaving the men in the stall.

Tommie nodded, leading Alvin to a hay bale, sitting him on the edge. Alvin shook, his cries like knives falling on them all.

"How much'd you hear?" Tommie whispered to Sam as Alvin continued to howl.

"Enough," Sam breathed. "Jesus Christ!"

Tommie gripped Alvin, who now trembled so badly, Tommie wondered if he should just lay him on the ground. The stall was clean enough and as Alvin nearly fell over, Tommie and Sam eased him to the hay-covered floor. Alvin curled into a ball, crying hysterically, his words reverberating through the entire structure: _Jenny please, I'm so, so sorry!_

Sam couldn't watch. In his dreams Jenny and Alvin spiraled apart, and Sam was always there, taking her in his arms. Never Chelsea, only Jenny, and guilt flooded Sam Cassel, guilt and dread and a small bit of what could be. If he was any other man, it would be so easy; simply walk into the Smith house, tell Jenny she and Chelsea could live with him in Portland. Sam knew she would revert to that cold, emotionless persona where all she had been was a girl ready for anything and anyone. He could step into her life and take Alvin's place with a few simple moves. He knew her well enough, more now than ever before. On the ropes, Jenny would be an easy conquest.

Sam's thoughts turned back to the man literally floored by her decision, in a fetal position, much as Jenny had been last night. Both were so damned needy of the other, of only that _one_. Sam might keep her a while, but he'd never really _have_ her. Only Alvin would.

"Get him home, give me today with her," Sam said in Tommie's ear. "She needs to be away from him if he can take it."

"You sure?"

Agony swirled as Alvin wailed _Jenny Cope_ over and over. "Yeah," Sam nodded. "Just give me a little time."

That night Tommie ate at Alvin's, Jacob for company. Alvin had fallen right to sleep when Tommie nearly carried him in the house, getting Alvin as far as the couch. He seemed unable to go upstairs and Tommie had spent the afternoon checking the farm. Steve and Lexi had collected a few things for Jenny and Chelsea, but now at five thirty it was three brothers not by blood, related instead by circumstance, and by time.

Tommie fried the Spam, Alvin fixing toast, while Jacob made eggs and coffee. He had spoken to Sam, learning what truth was out to who. And, without words, Jacob knew some facts. Between the blood brothers, Sam hadn't needed to say _why_ Jenny broke down, why she and Alvin were far apart. In Sam's eyes Jacob had seen Jenny's history. Now the reason Sam had fallen in love with her made complete sense.

Little was spoken over dinner. Alvin was hungry, eating more Spam that night than ever in one sitting. He tried not to think about Jenny, but couldn't help it. Was it because she wasn't there, she or Chelsea? Alvin missed his daughter tremendously, only wanted both of his girls back home. Jenny was his; how could she think of leaving?

Tommie sighed, unable to finish. The eggs were overcooked, Jacob's doing, but Jacob had been preoccupied; he knew everything. Tommie had shaken his head when Jacob asked if Jenny would be harassed. No one would come for her, Tommie said, too many years passed. Jacob sighed in relief, saying he wouldn't let it go beyond him, all that needed to be stated on that subject. Mumbling Lillian's name, Tommie had hugged that man, both aware of much unspoken, but no longer hidden.

Jacob ate all the Spam and eggs, leaving most of a slice of toast. His coffee cup was half full but he wanted to pound a few beers. Instead he listened to Alvin trying to speak of anything except all that mattered. Jacob reached for his mug, draining the cold, black liquid. What he would give to add just a little whisky, smoothing all that had been stirred again.

He set down the empty cup. "So, you staying here tonight?"

Tommie nodded. "Yeah. Alvin, that all right?"

He looked up. "What'd you say Tommie?"

"You want me to stay here tonight?"

"Oh uh, yeah, thanks. But Tommie, you mind taking the bedroom at the top? I uh, I don't wanna sleep in my bed."

"Sure Alvin. That's fine."

"Tommie, why don't you go get some clothes. I'll stay here till you get back." Jacob tried to take another drink, then remembered he had finished it all. He stood, but the pot was empty.

"Yeah, good idea. Listen Alvin, I'll be right back."

Pulling keys from his pocket, Tommie reached the doorway. Alvin cleared his throat, causing Tommie to turn back to Alvin's aching face.

"Tommie, will you give Chelsea a kiss for me, you know, a goodnight kiss?"

Jacob had gone to sink, his head down, and Tommie thought he heard a small whimper from a man who never broke. He had been a drunk for ages, but never wept, not since Lillian's death. That night, Tommie saw Jacob's dam burst, quietly and to himself.

"Of course Alvin. You bet I will."

Arriving home, Tommie found a silent house, kids nowhere to be seen. Rae and Jenny sat on the couch, Debbie in the big chair. Chelsea rested in her mother's arms, nearly asleep.

Tommie squeezed Debbie's shoulders, then kissed his wife. Then he leaned down, giving Chelsea a peck on the cheek. She flinched, returning to unconsciousness.

"From her daddy," he said.

Jenny was motionless, but Tommie saw her eyes dart away.

He headed into his bedroom, Rae behind him. "How is he?" she asked, shutting their door.

"Like shit. How 'bout her?"

"Still says she's gonna leave him. Now she's saying maybe she'll go to Portland, live with Sam. What is this crap?"

Rae sat on the unmade bed and Tommie held her. Once this was over, she would probably have her own collapse. As she trembled against him, all Tommie wanted was to make love to her. Jenny was letting that hard skin return and Tommie didn't know what to do, except that he missed his wife, wanted to be home. He wanted to erase the last two days, but really, it was longer. For the last few months, Alvin had been convinced a son wouldn't love him; what a load of horseshit, Tommie sighed.

"You gotta leave?" Rae mumbled.

"Yeah. Alvin doesn't even wanna sleep in their bed. God only knows what kind of mattress is on that third floor."

"I think it's the twin Jenny used."

Tommie nodded. "Maybe you're right. Thank God we junked Betsy's old bed."

"Honey, Sam was here all afternoon, trying to talk to her, but she just wouldn't listen. Then after he left, she started on this Portland idea. What's she thinking?"

Looking at Rae, Tommie saw a veil. She only processed what was necessary. He stroked her face, then kissed her. She responded and for a few minutes they exchanged love and years, memories and meaning. All she meant to him was his whole life and if Jenny thought she could just shut them out, she was kidding herself. Like she had been kidding herself since she was seventeen.

You couldn't just excise what meant everything, whether it was family, a lover, or a child. Tommie suddenly knew why Rae never dealt with losing their baby, but he tucked that aside, too many other things to consider.

Yet, he left her a nugget. "Honey, she loves him, more than she could ever admit. It's just easier to shut him out completely, then she doesn't have to think about it. She already lost one family and that's what he was telling her _no_ to, so now she's gotta find plan B. 'Cause if Alvin doesn't want more kids with her, ones she already had planned, well, what's she got left?"

He stood, gathering clothes and a book. Then he stared at his wife, tears falling down Rae's cheeks. Before heading to the bathroom for his toothbrush, Tommie kissed those streaks, glad that maybe Rae might have taken one small step. If nothing else, maybe there was that.

The next morning Tommie woke to the scents of coffee and hot food and the sound of rain. It had been dry all day Sunday, but on Monday a deluge was falling. He came down the stairs, stopping by the bathroom. Someone was cooking breakfast. Was it Alvin or...

Sam stood in the kitchen, frying eggs. Alvin wasn't there and Tommie grabbed a cup, poured some coffee. "Where is he?"

"Out in the barn. I surprised him and he hightailed it out there."

"Well, I knew there had to be someone acting as cook. It wasn't gonna be him."

Sam sighed. "I think he was relieved. He didn't wanna wake you, but looked like he wanted something more than toast."

Tommie sat. "You seen her recently?"

"Not since yesterday afternoon."

"You know her latest plan?"

Sam turned, a spatula in his hand. "No, what?"

"Says she's gonna move to Portland, live with you, she and Chelsea both."

"What'n the hell? Shit!"

Tommie stood, taking the spatula, turning the eggs. "She's just running again, won't listen to me, at least not right now." He stared out the kitchen window, rain pelting all in sight. Then he heard the back door rattle. Alvin came through, soaking wet.

"Oh hey Tommie, look who surprised me this morning. Good thing 'cause I was getting hungry and well, Sam offered to cook. Only got four eggs today, I wonder if they know."

Still shaken, Sam looked to Alvin. "Know what?"

"That she's not here. Jenny always goes with me, but maybe the chickens know." As Alvin put the eggs on the counter, Sam left the room.

Turning off the flame, Tommie removed the eggs from the skillet. Bread waited in the toaster and he set down the handle as Alvin poured coffee.

"That's my job," Alvin said.

"I know. Just got it started for you."

Alvin stayed near Tommie. "It's gonna be like before, isn't it? Just me, all alone."

Tommie gazed at rain smashing against glass. "No Alvin."

"But Tommie, I heard her. She isn't coming..." Alvin swallowed. "Home. She said so."

"I know what she said," Tommie sighed. "But that doesn't mean she's not coming back. Just that when she does," Tommie paused, hoping he wasn't being rash. "When she does, you're gonna have to make some adjustments."

"Oh, I know. Oh Tommie, all I want now is another baby with her. Oh my goodness, if she'd only listen to me, give me just a minute, I'd tell her, oh Tommie, I'd tell her how much I love her! Oh my God, I love her so much!"

The toast popped up, but neither man moved. Sam returned, finding their embrace. He had heard Alvin's words, spoken loudly, as if those sentiments could be willed to the Smith farm. Sam nodded at Tommie, then took his leave.

Sam dripped on the Smith carpet heading to the kitchen. Feeding Chelsea her breakfast, Jenny sat with Rae and Lexi. Sam gave all a kiss, then with eyes to Rae and Tommie's eldest, he sat next to Chelsea, tickling her face.

Lexi made an excuse and Sam heard her go to the stairs. She made a few apparent thumps, but not enough to rouse her sleeping siblings.

Rae poured Sam some coffee, then squeezed Jenny's shoulders, disappearing into her room.

Slowly Sam blew on his mug. All his world existed in that kitchen, one he had sat in countless times, but never with Jenny and Chelsea alone. Jenny could be his wife, Chelsea their daughter, but as if Sam had to restart his life, he brushed those thoughts aside. "Jenny, I need to talk to you."

She looked up, brown eyes not on this farm, but already somewhere else. She was easing herself and her baby from this place and these people, but Sam also saw uncertainty, as if all she needed was one reason to stay.

He'd seen that purpose back at Alvin's house and Sam's heart ached beyond anything previously known. With a few simple sentences he could take her willing hand, put her in his truck, strap this baby in the middle, and off they'd be, Sam Cassel's wife and child.

"Jenny, I'm leaving in another couple days, but before I go, I have to know that you and Alvin are together."

She seemed shocked, had she expected him to say something else? He couldn't look at her, but continued. "Honey, he loves you. He's as sorry as all get-out, knows he's screwed it up, but for God's sake he loves you, and I know," Sam stared at her. "I know you love him."

She did, in her icy, frightened tears, her heart frozen since Saturday. She had been ice-cold, trying to steel herself for another destruction of family. Another move was the last thing she wanted, but Jenny had been prepared.

Grasping her hands, Sam's chest grew tight, his heart breaking into pieces. "Honey, I know you're scared shitless and I don't blame you. Tracy was never able to break free from her family, why she died. She had to tell her mom about the baby and while I begged her not to, she did it anyways. That was how he found her, why he killed her." Sam stopped. There was more, but it wasn't necessary. Jenny was already crumbling, having given Chelsea the spoon, a mother's own hands shaky.

Sam steadied her, trying to keep himself upright. All he would have to do is unharness Chelsea, take their few things, and flee. Instead he pressed his feet to the floor, touching Jenny with light fingers. "Honey, if you go, you'll not only be hurting yourself, this baby, and Alvin, but you'll be giving him one more victory. I know he hurt you, but you've won. We're your family and if you leave..."

Sam held his breath. She didn't know he was aware of her plans, didn't know how much he loved her. How straddling this line was like cutting her out and for the last time, Sam Cassel exhaled all he felt in a long, torturous sigh.

"Jenny, if you leave, your father'll be just like Tracy's, pointing a gun and shooting you and this baby deader'n hell. You, Alvin, all of us."

As Jenny trembled, Chelsea whimpered. Sam unhooked the tray, lifting Chelsea from the seat. Pulling Jenny to him, for a few minutes they were a threesome.

When Rae stepped into the room, Sam stood, handing the baby to her mother. Then he walked away.

Chapter 3

Alvin watched the rain from the kitchen window. Tommie had helped with the dishes, but Alvin did most of them while listening to the splatter against the panes. Tommie hadn't said much after Sam left, but the little Tommie did speak Alvin hadn't heard. All he could think about was Jenny.

Sam was going to talk to her, Tommie had said, the last thing Alvin caught. Sam would talk to her, more than Alvin could do. Not because he didn't have the words, but because Jenny wouldn't listen to him.

That had never happened, not even in the beginning. As rain continued, Alvin thought about holding her in the loft, moments sometimes rainy, sometimes not. That first time, on Easter, it was dry, but Jenny had cried. She hadn't told him the truth, but had let him comfort her. That seemed like a distant memory as Alvin pulled the stopper, water draining from the sink.

It was his fault and he only wanted to tell her so. Now another child with the woman he loved seemed so right, but also like that moment in the barn, forever gone. Alvin didn't expect he would get another chance to talk to her, touch her, love her. That thought made him shudder and abruptly he moved from Tommie.

If Tommie spoke, again Alvin didn't hear it, only Jenny's cries, and her words: _It's over._ Her tears in Tommie's bedroom, her voice in this house begging for another baby; so many horrible words rang in Alvin's head, and he was the cause. He was the reason she was so sad.

But not only sad; she was angry. He had seen that yesterday at Tommie's in the horse stall. A few times she had been mad at him, mostly over Chelsea's diapers. Yet, he would change every one, even the poops, if only she would let him talk to her. Alvin was sure, if he could just talk to her, it would be all right.

He had always taken her sadness, even when it seemed so bad. Even during all the awful moments when she was telling him about her... Jenny's father started all this. It was that man's fault, for all the terrible things he did to Jenny. Then Alvin sighed. That wasn't true.

He sat at the table, only his coffee cup left. They had cleared all the dishes, putting the unused eggs in the refrigerator. Sam hadn't stayed for breakfast, he was talking to Jenny. She would listen to him, to Tommie, to just about anyone but Alvin. A swallow sat at the bottom of his cup and Alvin drank it, but it was cold and yucky. He wanted to spit it out, but didn't. Jenny had taken his unkind words, now he had to take the cold coffee.

The house was cold too. Was it the rain? Alvin looked up, saw Tommie drying the skillet one-handed. Alvin felt guilty and stood, taking the towel from Jenny's nail where she kept the ones for drying dishes. A different towel from the one used for drying hands, again, everything with its own place. She was still that way and now Alvin sat completely apart from everyone else. Yet Jenny hadn't asked for that.

She had only asked for another baby and now Alvin ached to give her one. He longed to touch her, make love to her, how he missed her! He had held his daughter, but not since the morning of the barbecue had he touched Jenny. She hadn't wanted him on Tommie and Rae's bed, instead going to Sam's arms. Now Sam was talking with her; might he be able to tell her something she would understand? Maybe because of his wife, his wife that died.

Sam and Jenny shared things Alvin never would. They knew that kind of abuse, they were close in age, and they could dance really good together. The last one wasn't such a big deal, but out of everybody, Jenny had the most in common with Sam. Except for the child he shared with her, Alvin really didn't have that much in common with Jenny.

"Here Tommie, let me do that. At least it's something I won't mess up."

Taking the skillet, Alvin heard Tommie speak, but the words went past him. Sometimes things went right over him, like how similar Sam and Jenny were. Although, the last bit only just came out. Alvin had no idea Sam's wife had been raped by her father. That man had shot and killed her, and Sam's baby too.

Alvin shed a few tears, thinking of the night Sam came home alone. He wasn't much older than Lexi, and was so sad. Now Alvin understood completely. Sam had lost Tracy, Alvin was losing Jenny, both men having had daughters. Sam had a baby girl, but just for a few minutes. Just long enough to hold her, then she was gone.

"Oh Tommie, she can't go!" Alvin blurted. "She can't take my daughter!"

He set the skillet on the stove, steadying himself against the counter. The pain was so bad, like his heart had fallen right out of his body. Alvin tried to breathe, then thought of Jenny's face as she held their child, his tone loud and cruel, announcing he was going to buy some condoms. How could he have done that?

Alvin voiced those thoughts, then looked at his friend. "My God Tommie, why was I so mean to her? Just like her father, oh Tommie, I'm so damned _dumb_!"

Tommie had no words as Alvin's sobs filled the room.

After Sam left, Jenny had given her daughter to Rae, then went for a bath. Alana had just exited the tub and the mirror was foggy. Jenny was glad. She didn't want to see herself, only wanted to submerge her hair and rinse Sam's words from her head.

She had sat in the kitchen for a few minutes, absorbing his thoughts, as Rae crooned to Chelsea. Rae hadn't said much over the last few days. If they were making curtains or clothes, Rae would have plenty of opinions. Emotional destruction wasn't her field.

Jenny got in the tub, leaning back into the water. Soaking her head, her heart felt heavy; she would cut off her hair for this new start. Then Sam's tormented gaze returned, agony mixed with truth. Jenny hated admitting that, but was it easier to leave Arkendale, or again face her father?

Or even worse, having to face Alvin?

Jenny wasn't sure. Splashing in the bathtub, she washed her hair first, then her body. An almost unnoticeable paunch remained from Chelsea. Otherwise Jenny's torso looked as before she arrived here, allowing so many under her skin and into her heart. Sam was right; if she left, her father would win. How many fucking victories did that bastard have to claim? All of them, Jenny laughed softly. All of them.

She washed her feet, then ran the washcloth over her skin again, up to her neck. He had kissed her there, fondling her breasts with hard, greedy fingers. She fought him until pinned by his arms and legs, always resisting. She had never lain still, but had stayed silent. Why? If she had cried out, her mother would have heard.

Now Jenny wanted to flee those memories and this place that felt stuck to her. She didn't need these people, she had never needed anyone.

She wore a small smile, but it only lasted until she heard her daughter's voice, a sing-song _Ma-ma_ wafting right outside the bathroom door.

"Jenny, she had a big poop. You mind if I bring her in?" Rae's tone was impassive.

Jenny didn't care if Rae saw her naked, her tears more what she wished to conceal. "Go ahead, that's fine."

Keeping her back to Jenny, Rae stood at the bathroom sink, rinsing off Chelsea's bottom and legs. Catching her mother's eyes, Chelsea laughed. "Ma-ma!"

Jenny sighed. "Rae, just give her to me."

With eyes averted, Rae leaned toward the tub, sticking Chelsea out in the air. Jenny grabbed her, slipping off a t-shirt. The baby giggled, kicking her feet in the water. "Ma-ma," she repeated.

Jenny kissed her. "Yeah, you're with Mama now."

Rae put an extra towel on the back of the toilet. "Can you get her out okay?"

"Yeah." Jenny set her baby close. "Thanks Rae."

"You're welcome Jenny."

Jenny pondered Sam's words amid Chelsea babbling _Da-da_ , which made Jenny cry. When mother and daughter came downstairs, Tommie sat with Alana on the sofa. Jenny looked stoic as Tommie stood, giving her a kiss. "What pretty ladies."

"Is he alone?" Jenny whispered.

"Said he wanted some quiet time. I'll go back in a bit."

She nodded, but Tommie saw a chink had emerged. Rae didn't know what Sam had said to Jenny and Tommie wouldn't press.

With his family huddled in the kitchen, avoiding the rain, Tommie led Jenny to the dining room. Jenny still held Chelsea, both females with weary eyes. Chelsea's were almost the exact color of Alvin's, and never before had Tommie noticed the striking nature of that hue. As blue and large as the ocean, but now Alvin's were bloodshot from tears and lack of sleep. A nap called Chelsea's name and maybe Jenny could get one too, but first Tommie had a question.

"Honey, all he wants is to talk with you, just for a few minutes. Can't you give him that? I'll be there, you won't have to go alone. But God, he really needs to see you. If he was any other man, I wouldn't ask."

Tommie looked to the floor. If Alvin was any other man, Jenny wouldn't be here. She had needed someone slow but so damned smart sometimes, the only one able to listen and not run away. Then Tommie sighed. Sam could listen too, but Alvin had found Jenny first.

What had Sam told her, Tommie wondered, seeing Chelsea snuggle against her mother. She didn't nurse anymore, but as though she was attached to Jenny's breast, Chelsea was cradled beside her mom, at peace.

Where Alvin needed to be, Tommie knew, and Jenny could use some comfort too.

She sighed, then looked into the room. Was she thinking of past dinners, happier times, all she found here, a family? That was the crux; what she needed, what Alvin had vetoed. Now he knew better and for better or worse they needed each other. Neither looked whole, both exhausted and worn, only the other to set them right.

"Jenny, I know you're hurting. Alvin, God, sometimes he's smarter than I could ever imagine, then he'll act just like a five-year-old. Christ, it drives me nuts. But honey, and I know you know this, his heart's all yours. Like I told you, there was no Alvin before you. He only came alive after meeting you. Maybe that's too much, I don't know. But you're the same."

He took a deep breath. "Take my truck, I know you can drive it. Just go talk to him. If you never give him a chance to explain, how will you tell her someday? How can you tell her what happened, tearing you two apart?"

Their eyes met and for seconds Jenny looked angry. Then Tommie blinked, nearly losing his breath; a circle, long and unending, had come back on itself. He hadn't meant to imply anything else, but Jenny had clearly taken it another way.

Giving her daughter to Tommy, Jenny stood. She kissed his cheek, then headed to the front door.

Alvin heard the familiar rattle of Tommie's truck. The transmission had been getting worse, that pick-up on its last legs. Alvin could hear it from the loft, having left the house for a place that reminded him only of Jenny. It was too hard thinking of his daughter as well, and Chelsea had never been in this part of the barn.

He sat where Jenny had found refuge, but Alvin didn't cry. He thought how differently he could have handled the last few months. His brain was the same as last week, but now thoughts were clearer, processes sharper. After Tommie went home, Alvin had spent the morning in the loft, not liking the silence of the house. If Jenny didn't come back, he might just move.

He couldn't live there alone again, too many memories. Jenny and Chelsea were in toys that cluttered the coffee table and bottles that rested on kitchen counters. Blankets Jenny had crocheted were scattered about, the first one for him in green and gray, theirs in red, blue, and purple, countless others for their daughter. Alvin couldn't live in that house without them.

Could he survive if Jenny left? He wasn't sure. Probably, but Alvin didn't know how to reckon the emptiness within him. Never before had he felt so bereft, not as a child when his father was buried, not as a teenager trying to understand why an older woman was in his room. Not even as an adult when his brother died in Vietnam; nothing in his entire life had ever been this bad. Hearing the stillness, Alvin wondered if he should go down or at least holler, letting Tommie know where he was.

Alvin didn't move. His body ached, along with his heart. The couch wasn't comfortable, but it beat sleeping in bed alone. He wouldn't go back to that bed until Jenny was with him. How had his mother slept without his father all those years, Alvin wondered. His parents had never been considered as anything other than his mom and dad, yet, they had loved each other, making four children, a family. One that was now only him, but Alvin had happy memories of times with his brothers. Not so many with Lorraine; had that family sustained his mother?

Alvin shook. All that Jenny wanted was a family, one that kept his mother going, albeit slowed at the end. By the end, all she had was Alvin. Yet, even with her son, Betsy Harris had managed until finally she died. Was it from old age or a broken heart, missing her husband and youngest sons? Lorraine came round, but there wasn't the usual closeness between mother and daughter, not like what Alvin saw with Rae and her girls or Debbie and Liz. Jenny had wanted a family, but not at first. At first the idea scared her, then after Chelsea was born, both knew more children would follow.

Then Alvin felt ashamed. He had told her that was what he wanted, then fear had moved in, fear of a son with eyes like Jasper Wilkins. Not Robert Tucker, for that was again about being scared. Alvin had wanted to hide from a son and now was in the process of losing Jenny and Chelsea, losing his family because he was afraid.

Alvin heard someone coming up the stairs. "Oh Tommie, I'm sorry. I'm up here."

Crawling to the steps, he gasped as Jenny emerged from the hole in the floor.

"Oh my God Jenny, oh Jenny Cope!" Alvin wanted to put out his hand, but didn't. Then he realized fear was again holding him back and he reached for her with both hands.

She didn't shy away. "Oh Jenny, oh my! How'd you get here?"

"I, uh, took Tommie's truck, 'cause of the rain."

She had driven to see him and Alvin's heart leaped. Then he saw her move back and a pall overtook him. What if she was there to tell him it was over?

Returning to his spot, Alvin left Jenny in the middle of the loft. Maybe she had come to tell him she was leaving. He couldn't look at her, didn't want to hear her words.

All he heard was the rain that fell so often Alvin never noticed unless it was accompanied by thunder. But there had been no thunder since Saturday, a day he would give his life to relive. If he could have one day to change, it would be that one, altering what he said to Jenny about condoms. Now all Alvin wanted was another child, to make a real family with Jenny. Not just one child but more, which kept people together because they had made those children in love. Alvin didn't mind thinking about his parents together; his mother had been so happy with his dad, Alvin's earliest memories of them always smiling. They'd had four children because of that love and even if those kids had ended up broken or dead, Alvin and his siblings had started due to love.

"Alvin, I uh, I wanted to see you."

"Oh, uh, really? How's Chelsea?"

Jenny had moved closer, but a few feet separated them. He couldn't tell by her face what she was feeling. She looked sad, that was plain. Sad and tired, but Alvin couldn't search for anything beyond that, too risky to have hope.

"She's fine. I had a bath with her this morning. She was, uh, calling for you."

He nodded, feeling sick. He looked away, missing Jenny's tears.

"She's really trying to talk now," Jenny added.

Her broken voice returned his gaze; Alvin wanted to move toward her, but feared if he tried, she would leave. Alvin's shame was like all the terror Jenny had owned, keeping her from him in the beginning. Now aware of that sensation, it set him back. Why she had been so apart from him when they met; Jenny had been afraid.

Yet here she was, reaching out. He had hurt her but she was talking about their daughter. Jenny hadn't said she was leaving him. If she was, wouldn't she have said that right off the bat?

"Jenny, I, uh, I'm so sorry. I love you always and honey, if you can just forgive me, oh Jenny Cope, we can have another baby, oh I really want that! I want a big family with you 'cause that's what people do, ones that really love each other. My folks did that, and maybe we all got messed up one way or another, but we were born 'cause they loved each other. And I love you, oh, so much. Jenny, I love you so much!"

Alvin said those words more to the floor than to the woman in his midst. Over the falling rain, he heard someone weeping. On her knees, Jenny's head was in her hands, her body shaking.

Looking up, Alvin caught her, pulling her to him. "Oh Jenny, oh honey, I'm sorry, so sorry! Please forgive me? Come home, this's where you belong, you and Chelsea, here with me. We can make another baby and have our own family. Maybe our kids'll get in trouble sometimes, maybe they'll fight a little, but Jenny, I love you. I need you. I can't..."

She nodded and wept, pressed close to him. His ache lifted, breath refilling his lungs. "I can't be without you Jenny, I just can't!"

She still said nothing, but Alvin knew it was okay for her to be quiet, just how she was sometimes. He broke into a smile as in her clinging arms and clutching hands, Jenny Cope returned to his life.

Neither said a thing as Jenny caressed Alvin's back, familiar motions he knew meant one thing. She wanted him, wanted to come home.

He found her mouth right after that awareness, kissing her tentatively, then with a passion that he hadn't before known, one of reclaiming that thought lost. Never had the couple fought so bitterly, this reconciliation not only setting aside the past, but harnessing the future, one not realized previously, in how much they meant to each other. In kissing her, Alvin atoned for his words and attitude, recapturing a precious treasure. He was unusually forthright, leaving her only to find something on which they could lay. Then he eased her down, undressing her with fervent hands. As the rain continued, Alvin kissed her all along her body, pressing himself close. Jenny traced the backs of his legs, stroking his hips. Then her fingers moved inward to his jeans, where she undid the button, let down the zipper. Soon he was naked too.

Without any distractions, Alvin had all the time in the world. When Jenny came, he smiled.

"Oh Alvin, please," she whispered through tears.

"I'll love you forever Jenny," he said, becoming one with her.

Chapter 4

As Alvin and Jenny continued their homecoming, Sam and Jacob stepped to the backyard. They had been stuck inside all morning since Sam returned from the Smith farm. While Debbie took Liz and Scott school clothes shopping, the brothers had stayed behind, watching bowling.

Sam hated bowling, but there wasn't much else to see besides rain, falling at a clip that might wash all of Arkendale west as far as the Pacific, but Sam wished to go further. Driving back to town, he had reached his brother's house in record time, even with sides of the road covered in water. Sometimes the Willamette Valley seemed like a huge lake with occasional blots of green. To Sam's thinking, one day this landscape might be nothing more than a page from Noah's story.

He considered that as Jacob shut the door behind them. Recently his brother had taken up chewing tobacco, better than beer, Sam allowed. As Jacob spat toward the side fence, Sam stared at the sodden grass. Noah probably would have killed for such a sight after forty days with family and animals, only hoping, day after day, that God would tire of all this and give him one sign as relatives groused, everybody sick of the rain. Rain and more rain and Sam laughed as Jacob spat again. "How in the hell can you chew that stuff?"

"Beats smoking," Jacob sighed. "Debbie said she'd divorce me if I started again."

Sam smiled. His brother had smoked years before, then quit when the kids were born. Debbie hadn't liked it in the first place, complaining baby clothes would smell like an ashtray. That was just about the time when Sam left for college, right before he met Tracy.

Using his foot to spread a puddle over the cement, Sam then moved farther out, tramping on wet, soft ground. He wanted a beer, but wouldn't compromise his brother's sobriety by bringing in a six-pack. It was coming on two years since Jacob had quit drinking and Sam appreciated each of those days, thankful to Jenny for getting through to Jacob. Jenny Cope was where Sam laid that responsibility.

It wasn't only Jenny; Liz and Chad Lambert had played their parts, but Jenny had reached Liz, and now Sam knew why. He shuddered, having mostly kept that from his head since Saturday night. His words to Jenny that morning were like a small piece of land Noah was hoping to find. What Sam had always wondered about Jenny was now as vast as Noah's ocean, and all Sam wanted was a tiny speck to lay his head.

He needed to go home. Portland was only an hour and a half tops, one and a quarter if he drove fast. If the rain held off, he could fly on I-5, twists and turns so familiar, just like Sam knew Jenny. Aware of all her secrets, he had known what to tell her that morning. He hoped to God she was listening, because in saying what he had, Sam had thrown any idea of being with her right in the water. Like Noah letting that second bird go, wishing for some proof of terra firma, and that bird never returned.

The first one had come back, nothing solid to settle on. Nothing more than a peep of a tree, and Sam felt that way, waiting. He needed to know if he had said enough, bled enough, and could just leave. He wouldn't depart until he was certain, then, like Noah's second bird, Sam would fly away, never coming home again.

He looked at Jacob, still spitting toward the fence. All those years Sam had returned to a drunk and now he wouldn't be able to visit. Sam was tired of Portland, needed a change. Maybe it was time to find a new state, new opportunities, as far from Jenny Cope as Sam Cassel could muster.

He said nothing to his brother; it would take time finding another job, but Sam had a great reputation with _The Oregonian_ , had worked his ass off for years. He'd been passed over as head of advertising only due to age. Phil Jaworski had seniority and maybe that would satisfy those in Arkendale as to why Sam was looking elsewhere. It would satisfy all but Jacob and Tommie, with whom Sam would need no excuse.

Sam hadn't needed to tell his brother about Jenny. With the booze stripped, Jacob was as intuitive as ever, the brothers rarely needing to speak. How their childhood had been lived with a drunken father, siblings silently communicating their confusion and fear. Jenny's fears had easily passed through Sam's eyes and Jacob hadn't required any words. He wouldn't demand a heavy-handed reason for this either; siblings accepted each other's coping mechanisms. Sam hadn't liked his brother's drinking and Jacob wouldn't raise any dissent if Sam chose to move far, far away.

He only needed a sign. Then Sam would look for a new job as soon as he got back to work. Sprinkles were felt and Sam smiled. Maybe somewhere dry and hot, as different from Oregon as he could find.

They went in and as Sam closed the back door, the front opened, Liz and Scott lugging bags. Debbie brought up the rear, a tired smile on her face.

"How much'd you spend?" Jacob asked, sitting on the sofa.

"You don't wanna know," she sighed.

Jacob had a small laugh, then kissed his wife after Debbie flopped into the couch. "Saw Bonnie Carmine," she said. "She asked how Alvin and Jenny were."

"Nosy bitch," Jacob huffed. "Nothing gets past her."

"Well, everyone was there. No one would let something that big sit under their hats."

Sam nodded. All he wanted was to start over in a place where his past was only his. His past and Jenny's too.

Debbie stood, on her way to the kitchen when the phone rang. They had a line in their room, one that lately was strung through Liz's doorframe, her late-night chats with Max becoming legendary. Debbie didn't even go for the kitchen receiver as Sam sat next to his brother. Bowling blared and Sam tried to focus on falling pins.

"Mom, Dad, Uncle Sam, oh my God!" Liz bellowed, racing down the stairs.

Debbie came running. "Don't swear young lady!"

"Sorry Mom, but they're back together, Jenny and Alvin. That was Alana. They just got to the farm, walked in the rain, hand in hand. More than that," Liz smiled. "You know, all over each other. It's okay, they're all fine again!"

"Oh thank God," Sam exclaimed.

Debbie took her daughter in her arms, Scott skipping down the stairs, also pleased. Sam squeezed his brother's hand, gave his sister-in-law and niece a hug, ruffling his nephew's hair. Then Sam walked out the front door, got in his truck, and drove away.

The reunited couple had arrived at the Smith farm somewhat soggy, but by the time all were seated for dinner, Jenny's hair had dried, along with her tears. With Alvin to her right, their daughter on her lap and family surrounding, Jenny breathed peace.

It was an impromptu meal, leftovers from the barbecue, but that day only lived in the piles of food. As those plates were demolished, so was that memory; all Jenny knew was her man, her baby, her family.

It had been Sam's words, Sam's, Tommie's and Chelsea's, that little girl's the most surprising. Every calling of her father's name, one that Chelsea had just mastered over the last week, struck Jenny with force, causing her to reconsider. Then Alvin's words, eyes, voice, and finally, his touch. His body erased all his earlier statements, and when he entered her, she knew. No way could she ever leave this man.

It hadn't been only how he pleasured her. That had been stirring, but even more so was making love with him, an intimacy Jenny had disallowed from her head. She had severed that connection in her reasoning, but once he moved into her, all she knew was family. He was her family, her lover, her man. His words returned then, how they would make their own family, and there before her, in a manner of speaking, they had. By loving Alvin, Jenny had a room full of people she loved, who loved her. And maybe, just maybe, another little Harris would catch.

She was right in the middle of her cycle; perhaps a baby would spring from all this, sealing the lid to a weekend Jenny never wanted to remember. Only the _now_ mattered; Alvin beside her, their daughter falling asleep in her arms. Jenny hadn't missed Chelsea's giggly response to her parents' happy demeanors and for that alone, this reunion was necessary.

That and Alvin; he'd apologized, she had too. In bed, after picking as much hay from her hair as they could, she had made love to him, healing his wounds. He brushed it off, only so happy she was home. Yes, Jenny had to admit, seeing faces of all she adored; this was home.

She had wanted to speak to Sam alone, but he was occupied. These were people he also wanted to see and Jenny would say something to Tommie to pass Sam's way if she didn't get the opportunity herself. Seeing him laugh with Jacob was good enough. Those brothers were tight and Jenny relished the idea of Sam returning more often, that relationship fully mended.

She leaned back, saw a few beer cans in front of Rae. She hadn't been chatty when Alvin and Jenny returned, but now she gabbed with Debbie and Lexi while Ricky, Steve, and Scott talked football. The Seahawks second season was fast approaching; maybe this year they might do a little better.

Liz and Max had scooted off once he'd finished a third plate of food. Something was brewing between those two, but no one said a thing, just like they had all forgotten the last two days. Nothing had changed, nothing was different. This was just like the Fourth of July, Steve's graduation, or last year's barbecue; family eating, drinking, laughing, and loving. Some loved a little more closely than others, but familial blood ran through everyone regardless of actual parentage. Then Jenny smiled; if Max and Liz did stay together, the Smith and Cassel families would finally be joined.

That was a long way off, those kids just sixteen, plenty of time. There was no rush, not even for another baby. If Jenny wasn't pregnant that month, there was time enough. Alvin was only forty and they had conceived Chelsea so easily there was nothing over which to worry. Jenny didn't want a huge gap between her kids, wanted them close, like these sets of siblings. Only a year and a half stood between Lexi and Steve, but Jenny would have to be pregnant now if Chelsea and a little brother or sister had that similarity.

As Sam left the table, Jenny handed the baby to Alvin. She excused herself, finding Sam in the kitchen. He was pounding a beer and she smiled; Sam didn't drink in front of his brother. Others did, even Alvin, who had enjoyed his one can, but Sam avoided that notion, and Jenny cleared her throat, not wanting him to choke.

Sam turned, giving her a smile. "Hey."

"I just wanted to thank you for uh, giving me food for thought."

Approaching him, she had wanted to say something deeper. He tipped her face his way and she looked into gray eyes, realizing nothing more needed to be spoken.

"Honey, you're right where you need to be."

She nodded, wiping away some tears. Only a few, for he was right, no need to cry.

"Sam," she muttered, then regained her composure. "I, uh, I hope you'll be coming home more now. I mean, I saw you with Jacob. Everything seems to be fine, for all of us."

For a moment he looked down, then he gazed at her, blinking tears through a smile. "I'll be back for Christmas, you bet."

"Thanksgiving too," she chuckled. "Maybe by then I'll have some good news to share."

She hoped that news would come well before November. Looking at the floor, she missed Sam blink more tears.

"We'll see. Busy time at the paper then, all the holiday ads."

She gasped and he continued. "But I'll sure try. And you and Alvin, you keep trying too." Sam's hand went to her middle, staying there long enough for her to laugh.

"We will. Sam, thanks. I mean, oh Christ." As she reached for him, he stepped back. Then he fell into her, their grasp one of thanks to have escaped a fire taking others, but not them. Sam wobbled and Jenny turned slightly, getting a better footing with which to stand. She held him as if he would die without her, knowing that same sensation earlier with Alvin.

Hearing footsteps, she gazed up, finding Alvin and Chelsea in the kitchen doorway, his face first of small worry. As she nodded, he did too, bobbing their daughter up and down.

Right behind him stood Tommie and Jacob, those men with different countenances. Jenny could only reckon Alvin's, one of understanding and acceptance. Closing her eyes, Jenny absorbed Sam's sobs and his voice, calling her entire name over and over.

Chapter 5

In early September, Chelsea Louise Harris turned one year old. She was walking everywhere, but a gate precluded her from tackling stairs. An energetic child would be up, then falling down, but a mother desired no lingering heartache.

Jenny woke that morning with Alvin curled next to her. They had found in sleep, as well as in time conscious, the need to be close. If she wasn't wrapped around him, Jenny found his long, comfortable body beside hers, an erection usually accompanying.

As it was that morning and she leaned into him, not hearing any noise. They'd had family over for dinner the night before, including Keith and Sylvia Baxter. In addition to new clothes and toys, Chelsea received a gift that would last all her life; grandparents.

Jenny thought about Sylvia's merry face as Alvin stirred. He moved toward her, but as Jenny had started her period last night, they would only share sensations blunted by clothing, yet, just as pleasing. As lovely as when Sylvia asked if perhaps she and Keith might be added to Chelsea's family.

In the kitchen, right as Jenny put one candle on the cake, Sylvia approached with Chelsea in her arms. The Baxters were already like honorary family and Jenny had gasped as Sylvia's words silenced the room. Alvin was snapping pictures and he nearly dropped the camera as the request emerged, hitting Jenny's already overfilled heart. The day had been hastily planned, just a pot luck, but with many accompanying good feelings, this one causing Jenny's tears.

She had nodded immediately, pushing the candle into the chocolate cake. Then Jenny embraced Sylvia and that birthday girl while whispering words Jenny wished she could give a mother. Not her own, but a woman like Sylvia, one toward whom Jenny felt love and thankfulness. Sylvia had brought Jenny to Arkendale and now Chelsea had a grandma and grandpa.

Sylvia had spent the rest of the evening trying to get Chelsea to say those words, but her vocabulary was limited to Ma-ma and Da-da. Ba-by wouldn't be joining as Jenny's period began after everyone left. As cramps came and went Jenny wept, but not all in what hadn't been achieved. The celebration had been too joyous and maybe it was best her period had arrived, Alvin had said, on a day when they had been given so much; a daughter, more relatives for that child, awareness of family and friends, which really were inseparable.

Jenny ran all that through her head, watching Alvin leave for the bathroom. If he wanted to come, she would gladly assist, but when he returned, he just sat on the bed. She rolled his way, aching and tired, but so happy as he spoke about eggs and chickens, trees and the garden. His excitement expended, he left to start the coffee.

She heard him get halfway down the stairs, then he came back, once again sitting on the edge of the mattress. This time he leaned down, tenderly kissing her.

Savoring those kisses, Jenny wondered if he had changed his mind. "You wanna lie down?"

"Oh no, I mean," he chuckled. "No, it was just that I wanted to kiss you 'cause I love you Jenny Cope." He carressed her face, ran his hands along her side, his voice that manly tone. "God, I love you so much."

Jenny wiped tears. "I love you too. Go on, I'll be there in a minute."

He smiled, hopping off the bed, bounding down the stairs. Jenny stood slowly, used the bathroom, then went for their daughter. Chelsea stirred, unaware of having suddenly aged, gaining more family. Jenny wished to impart the last few weeks' importance. Instead she kissed her daughter's chubby cheeks, then laid her on the changing table, telling Chelsea Louise about all her relatives, and of a possible sibling to come.

By the end of the month, Jenny and Alvin were hopeful as the farm produced a plentiful harvest, the Smith boys and Scott Cassel picking apples. Out of school, Steve was present most days, Max and Scott after classes and on weekends when Tommie didn't need help. Jenny watched as the orchard handed a bountiful crop, but still only a fraction of what could be collected. She said nothing to Alvin. He was especially proud of that year's yield, even Bonnie Carmine giving her grudging approval.

Bonnie said nothing to Jenny personally, but Jenny didn't miss the way she looked at Chelsea, who wore small boots, wanting to follow her father everywhere. She rode on the tractor with Alvin, secured in the seat by a small belt he had fashioned for her. She looked more like him every day, her blue eyes growing deeper in color. Chelsea's hair was short and fair, and when Bonnie went to leave, Jenny was certain Bonnie wanted to make contact with Alvin's daughter. Yet, what place did she have? Alvin informed Bonnie that Chelsea had grandparents, Bonnie's face in shock that the Baxters had laid claim to Betsy and Alfred Harris' descendent.

Jenny stood with Alvin and their daughter as Bonnie drove away. While Jenny said nothing to her man, that night in the bath Jenny didn't hesitate to share with the only one who would keep all under her hat. Chelsea giggled while Jenny spoke and as water went down the drain, so did a mother's words.

A week later, Jenny's period arrived during the night and now there was bedding to wash in addition to no baby. Alvin took it better than Jenny, which helped, but he was off to town that day, and she had laundry to do as well as a toddler dying to climb the stairs.

Jenny was letting her take a few at a time, right at her side, but Chelsea wanted none of her mother's assistance, stubbornly fighting at every turn. Jenny had allowed Chelsea twenty minutes, but sheets needed to go in the dryer. Scooping her daughter into the playpen, Jenny went to the shed, Chelsea's cries carrying through the farm.

Sometimes motherhood overwhelmed, which Jenny found ironic. They were hoping for another, what would she do then? She laughed, turning to tears, when she heard the ghastly rattle of Tommie's truck.

A quiet rain was starting to fall. There had been no rumbles after the barbecue, something Jenny had noted, but not mentioned. That weekend was a black hole; Jenny was home with Alvin, trying for a baby. Trying, but as another cramp hit, not successful.

"Hey Tommie," she called, seeing him head to the front. "He's in town today."

Tommie waved, moving her way. "Actually I just needed to get outta the house. Rae's got all sorts lined up for me. Steve's already hightailed it to Marcy's."

He gave her a kiss and reaching the back door, he held it open. Jenny set the basket on the floor, her daughter wailing.

Tommie went for Chelsea, soothing her with kisses as Jenny poured the coffee. He took his usual chair, Chelsea happy for her uncle. Jenny sat with a smile, Chelsea so animated with a man Jenny considered her brother. In some other life, this man was Jenny Cope's eldest sibling.

She never thought about it any other way. If Tommie had been her older brother... She stopped; this is where she was, with a rather headstrong one-year-old, an uncooperative body, and Alvin off for the shopping. She sipped her coffee, watching Chelsea flirt with abandon.

"She really loves you, all of you," Jenny smiled.

Tommie looked up, besotted. "You know, more and more I'm coming round to the idea of being a grandfather. They're not your own but near enough and in another minute or five, I can hand her off to you."

He smiled, getting a drink, Chelsea trying for a sip.

"Oh today she's all yours. Won't leave me alone for a minute. All she wants is up those stairs."

He laughed, trying to keep the mug from Chelsea's grasp. "She's a wily girl. Gonna be just like her daddy, climbing every goddamned thing in sight."

Jenny laughed, releasing her earlier frustrations. "Alvin tells me it's payback for what he put his mother through. But what'd I do to deserve such a monkey?"

"Falling in love with one honey. Sorry 'bout that," Tommie smiled.

Jenny stood for more coffee. Her body ached, but time with Tommie alleviated some pain. Still she reached for the aspirin, taking two.

She sat again, saw Tommie's eyes on her. She sighed. "We're not pregnant."

He reached out his right hand and Jenny gripped it, stroking that stump of a thumb.

"I wondered," was all he said.

"Maybe next month. We'll just keep trying."

"He take it okay?"

Jenny stood, not wanting to see Tommie's face, reflecting her own disappointment. "Yeah actually, better than me." She turned with a smile. "Just said maybe we'll have two late summer babies. Sometimes he's so good, you know?"

Tommie joined her near the sink, putting Chelsea down. She didn't stray far, wanting up again, which surprised Jenny. She collected her daughter as Tommie's arms came around them, family taking a small burden.

A few days later, in early October, two engagements were announced. One was expected, the other quite the opposite.

Steve and Marcy declared their intentions over Sunday dinner, Tommie the only one with an inkling. A few days previous he had run into them returning from Albany, looking like butter wouldn't melt in their mouths. Tommie hadn't spoken a word, but as his eldest son rose with Marcy at his side, Tommie gave Rae a smile, noting her happy tears. The young couple had just graduated, but Steve was clear-headed, making the decision not to pursue baseball. Tommie's boy wouldn't chase some pipe dream as the most important aspect of Steve's life stood right next to him, a young woman who had made herself a part of this family. Marcy Lewis' parents weren't folks Tommie associated with, set between the Baxters and Carmines. Tommie was glad the wedding wouldn't be on his and Rae's heads, enough with paying for Lexi's tuition. As Steve went to call his sister, Tommie leaned back, finding matrimonial notions on another face, one he wouldn't have dreamed.

Alvin stood, then cleared his throat. "Well uh, since Steve's all talking about getting married, I guess Jenny and I should tell you our plans."

"Alvin, you gotta wait till Steve's off the phone," Jenny chided, pulling Alvin back into his seat.

Tommie looked at Rae, whose surprise matched his own. Alana and Max wore questioning gazes; this was news to everyone.

Steve and Marcy returned to silence. Alvin stood again wearing a smile Tommie hadn't seen since that Fourth of July back in '75 when Alvin and Jenny were finally a couple. Tommie wondered what had changed their minds, then looked to Jenny's hand; no ring. Marcy sported a small diamond, but Jenny's fingers were bare.

"I asked Jenny to marry me and she said yes," Alvin blurted. "We're thinking about a summer wedding, but Steve, if that's what you and Marcy got planned, we're happy to wait. Don't wanna get in your way."

Joy filled Alvin and Jenny's faces, but Tommie's astonishment was hard to hide. Not any worry for them to stay together, but it was so out of the blue. Tommie thought about the conversation he and Jacob had shared only yesterday; Sam was looking for a new job. Out of state, Jacob had stressed, maybe east of the Rockies. This bombshell would further strengthen Sam's mind.

"Hey Alvin, you know, we were thinking about next June," Steve said.

As Alvin took his seat, the group divided, women clamoring to Marcy's ring, Max leaning toward his brother. Tommie sat between, finding Jenny's contentment, then watching as Chelsea went from Rae to Alana, then to Marcy. She passed the baby back to Jenny after a quick embrace. Then Alvin caught Tommie's eyes, a gravity Tommie had noted since Alvin and Jenny had been together. One that came and went, but that night it shone.

"That's fine Steve. We're in no hurry, I mean, we're thinking sometime next year, all depending on when we get pregnant."

All the kids stared at Alvin. Jenny turned a little red and Tommie laughed. A man one second, a boy the next, but all for one woman, as Alvin kissed Jenny's blushing cheek.

The kids giggled, Rae with an exasperated sigh like Tommie's, how Alvin could be so contradictory, but only in his manner. His feelings, as he held Jenny close, were singular and determined. Since August, Alvin only had two people on his mind, his wife and child. Wife slipped from Tommie's subconscious, then he released a more relaxed sigh. They were husband and wife, boyfriend and girlfriend immature and erroneous. Tommie had never been bothered with their unattached status, strange to think of Alvin as a married man. Yet there, with his woman and their baby, another child on their minds, it seemed proper. If Steve at eighteen was going to marry his girlfriend, maybe it was time Alvin and Jenny tied the knot.

But not as most would think. Alvin was more concerned with not disrupting Steve and Marcy's plans. He and Jenny would wait their turn and Tommie stifled a giggle, doubting Jenny would waltz down an aisle heavily pregnant. Then he wondered; who might escort her along that path?

Tommie caught Alvin's eyes, seeking a minute. Alvin stood, kissing Jenny. Then Tommie followed Alvin out of the room.

They went to the barn, saying nothing until they stepped inside. Tommie sat on a hay bale, Alvin doing the same, staying quiet, another surprise. Usually Alvin was already spilling.

"So, a wedding," Tommie began.

Alvin looked up, enthralled. "Yeah. We were talking about it the other night. I asked her and she said yes."

Tommie smiled, seeing deep happiness in Alvin's face. His voice was boyish, but those blue eyes held something far beyond Alvin's normal tenor.

"Alvin, don't take offense, but why now?"

Again, Alvin gave that youthful grin, but his tone was unmistakably adult. "Tommie, I almost lost her. I love her and we're gonna have another baby, I mean eventually, and I'm gonna be forty-one. Maybe last year it was okay for us to be boyfriend and girlfriend, but not anymore. We're together forever and it's time Tommie. It's just time."

"Well, sounds good to me."

Alvin nodded. "Oh, there's something else I gotta tell you."

"What?"

"Well, you know, we wanna get married at the house. Jenny doesn't want a church wedding, but she still wants to have people stand up with us, a best man and maid of honor. Jenny says it's a matron of honor 'cause she wants Rae and she's already married."

Tommie smiled, little details having been discussed.

"Now Tommie, you know you're my best friend. I mean, heck, you're my brother. But I'm gonna have Jacob be my best man 'cause Jenny, well, she wants you to walk her down the aisle."

Tommie shook. "She does?"

"Oh yeah, I mean, she asked me if Jacob or Sam, either one, stood with me, 'cause she really wants you to give her away. That okay?"

Getting to his feet, Tommie considered Jacob's stark voice, then the broken look on Sam's face the day he drove back to Portland. It would have to be Jacob; Tommie wasn't sure if Sam could even attend such an event, the ultimate in a couple's life. Tommie recalled the peace he felt when marrying Rae. She wasn't that bubbly, carefree girl anymore, but the day he had taken her, for better or worse, stood fresh in his mind like the day he had met Jenny or as real as only moments before, hearing his own son announce matrimonial plans. Those plans were ones Sam might be persuaded to attend, but not this wedding. Sam had endured much over his life, but watching Alvin and Jenny say _I do_ would be over his limit.

"Tommie, Tommie, that okay?" Alvin repeated.

"What? Oh yeah, hell yes Alvin. Good God, I'd be happy to walk her down." That thought made Tommie choke. "She sure?"

"You bet!" Alvin leaped from the hay bale. "Oh Tommie, that's all she wanted to make sure of. I mean, she's not, well, she doesn't wanna get married if she's _really_ pregnant." Alvin looked down, then smiled. "I mean, it'll all depend on the baby."

Alvin had changed. Another child with Jenny wasn't the problem of previous, only the timing. And as Tommie suspected, Jenny didn't want to parade a huge belly in what Tommie assumed would be a white dress. Jenny was unique, but this first wedding for both Jenny and Alvin would be their _only_ wedding.

"Alvin, I can't think of any better honor. I mean, while I'd love to be your best man..." Tommie sighed; just how much had Jenny Cope affected them all?

"Yeah, I mean, that's what we both thought, that it'd be okay. I guess the biggest problem is whether to ask Jacob or Sam, you know, to be my best man."

Tommie looked to the house; laughing wildly, Chelsea ran ahead of her mother, Jenny in a slower gait, chasing her daughter. Alvin saw them and forgetting all about his dilemma, he took off, catching his baby girl in both arms. He swung her high over his head, then reached for his wife-to-be, sweeping both females in his grasp. Joining them, Tommie would gently plant a bug that Jacob would be hurt if Alvin asked Sam. Maybe by the time they did get married, Sam would be far away, his absence at the ceremony a non-issue.

In bed that night, Tommie lay atop his wife, her soft, warm body a pleasure. After all had gone, the kids in bed, Tommie and Rae had sat in the porch swing, talking of their early days before tragedy had changed her. That was mentioned indirectly, Rae unable to speak of that loss.

Yet, it wasn't so debilitating as they necked in the swing, leading them into the darkened house. The kitchen had been cleaned by Marcy and Alana, Steve and Max lending a hand. Those kids weren't small anymore, but Tommie hadn't wanted to make another with Rae. He only wanted to reaffirm what their marriage meant; Rae was his life and that night, four people had decided to take the plunge.

The two couples were so opposing, but with one similar feature, deep and abiding love. Tommie held no qualms for either, time for Alvin and Jenny to make their commitment legal, time for Steve and Marcy to start exploring what togetherness meant. Hard work, compromise, understanding, and patience. Willingness to forgive and a bending of will and as Tommie came, acceptance of oneself tied completely to another until parted by death.

He didn't move away; Rae held onto him with her good leg. He kissed her face, rapid breaths turning normal. She always felt so right, from the very first time he had loved her on the baseball field in the middle of the night. He had driven to see her often that summer and their first time had occurred late in August on an evening when Tommie no longer could wait. He had to be with her, and was surprised that Rae felt the same. She wasn't shy, much of her life spent surrounded by doctors and nurses. That was all new to him, but not to Rae, and she had eagerly led him to a place where both would be comfortable, and where they could be alone.

Now so many years later, he couldn't imagine having her anywhere but their own bed. Those few nights at Alvin's in August had made Tommie keenly aware of his age, his body aching afterwards. Also from missing his place, next to his wife. Moving from her, Tommie lie flat. Then Rae rolled his way.

"I love you," he said, kissing her face.

"Oh Tommie," she whispered.

He held her near, feeling as usual her few tears. They didn't make love as often as before, yet, when they were together, it was the only time Rae cried.

"What a day," he smiled. Their child was getting married and Tommie was relieved it was a son before a daughter, a wedding organized by someone else.

"Yeah," Rae mumbled.

He had told her of Alvin's request, Rae in agreement. She'd said nothing more, but Tommie wasn't surprised. About Steve and Marcy she had been vocal, yet Rae was pleased to be the matron of honor and talk of sewing dresses had already occurred. Tommie was glad to see things getting settled. Let Marcy's parents arrange one celebration. He had another to sort.

"Honey, Alvin should have Jacob stand with him. Sam's too young."

"Mmmhmm," Tommie murmured, growing sleepy.

"Too young and," but Rae stopped.

"I know."

Rae grew quiet and Tommie pulled her even closer. "Better that Sam not be there."

Her words stunned Tommie, more than Rae ever said about anyone. If Sam did move far away, Tommie would have to figure out something to appease Alvin and Jenny, but as Rae's tears reached Tommie's skin, this woman wouldn't need an explanation.

Chapter 6

A rainy, cool Thanksgiving was spent at the Smith farm, all but Sam Cassel in attendance. Jenny was particularly troubled by his absence, but once assured he would be home for Christmas, she settled. Part of her sorrow was mixed with personal details; she and Alvin still weren't pregnant. Feeling her usual lower backache all morning added to her gloom when at Tommie and Rae's there was no sight of Sam.

That year, Keith and Sylvia Baxter attended. They couldn't imagine missing Chelsea's second Thanksgiving and Jenny was glad for their presence, somehow making up for the one who hadn't come home. But by the late afternoon she had started her period and spent the rest of the day trying to hold back tears. This time, Alvin joined her mood.

He had been patient throughout October, hoping November would be different. It wasn't and with rain falling, all cooped in the house, there was little room for the couple to release their disappointment. Only Rae and Tommie knew; Tommie had a minute alone with Alvin, just beyond the kitchen, putting leftovers in the outside fridge. Alvin said they would be leaving right after pie. When his voice broke, Tommie gave him a strong hug.

The Harris-Cope family left after Alvin swallowed that last bite of pumpkin, the Baxters on their heels. Jacob and Debbie stayed longer, mostly due to Liz and Max. They had slipped away, finally located by Alana in the horse stall. She refrained from tattling of how she found them, in a tight clinch on the floor of the same space Liz had cried in two years previous.

Picking hay from her hair, Liz dried dishes while Max hunkered in the living room with Scott, Steve, and Ricky. Alana, Marcy, and Lexi helped Liz, the adults more concerned with the one who hadn't traveled and the two already departed. There had been talk of weddings, mostly Steve and Marcy's, but Jenny and Alvin's had been broached. Alvin grumbled that if Sam didn't make it home for this holiday, should they expect him at their ceremony?

While the Baxters had been easy to convince, Alvin and Jenny were different. All were thankful for that couple's ignorance, but for how much longer could it be kept from them?

In the dining room, Tommie rubbed Rae's hand, then finished his beer in one gulp, setting the can on the floor. He tried to not drink in front of Jacob, but he seemed unbothered.

"You think he'll be gone by the time they actually get married?" Tommie asked.

Jacob looked at his wife, both nodding. "If he gets his way, he'll be in Missouri right after Christmas."

"That soon?" Rae gasped.

Tommie stared at Jacob. "Are you serious?"

Jacob gazed down, then sipped his coffee. "I talked to him last night. He really wanted to come, but Christ, at the end of the day, he just couldn't, you know, see her." He paused. "He's all set to take over the ad department at _The Kansas City Star_ in the middle of January, hoping to get there around the fifth or sixth. I'll be going with him, get everything out there in two trucks."

Rae squeezed Tommie's hand. "Is he still coming home for Christmas?" she asked.

"Yeah, not sure if he's gonna stay for New Year's though," Debbie sighed.

Tommie stood, stretching his back. It ached, those few night in August still with him, with them all, forcing Sam's hand. Tommie was torn; should Jenny know how Sam felt, that he had loved her nearly since they met? Once he had learned of her past, those feelings had exacerbated. Once Sam _knew_ about Jenny Cope, his heart couldn't budge.

Tommie loved Jenny like an older brother, his siblings forged from ages-old friendships, ties more lasting than blood. He glanced at Jacob, his recently trimmed mane showing white strands. Debbie's reddish-brown hair wasn't her natural color and Rae's blond tresses were streaked with gray. She had told Tommie she wouldn't be coloring hers, and he wasn't to mess with his. All were aging, but still family, regardless of who their parents were.

All those oldsters were now dead, Maisie Cassel's passing the last, Rae's folks gone before Jenny arrived. Who knew about her folks, but these people were all each other had. The Baxters' presence that afternoon had been odd, yet in how they called Chelsea their grandchild, one foot had been planted in Tommie's front door, and he expected the other to follow. They were easy to talk to and the teenagers seemed to appreciate their influence. None had any living grandparents; maybe Sylvia and Keith might fill more than only Chelsea's role.

But one stood apart and it was no one's fault, nothing malicious or premeditated, just bum luck for Sam to fall for Jenny. Tommie wondered if he had told Sam straight off, would it have made any difference? At that first Easter dinner, Tommie had no idea of Jenny's past. By the barbecue, it was too late, Sam's feelings already cemented. Then at New Year's, Jenny was pregnant. Tommie clearly recalled standing in Jacob's backyard, stars shining, and Sam so drunk. He'd been drunk and in love, neither situation any good.

"Whatcha thinking 'bout farmer?" Jacob asked.

Tommie loved these people for better or worse, but for Sam it was only getting harder. His move would be difficult for Alvin and Jenny to accept, but it couldn't come at a better time. "Only that if you guys need any help in January, just let me know."

Two weeks later, at Tommie's forty-first birthday, cake and ice cream was shared by the usual suspects. The Baxters couldn't make it, which was fine with Tommie; that night he and Jacob were going to spill Sam's news.

Sam was ready to give notice on his apartment. They would leave for Portland on Thursday, the fifth of January, then drive to Missouri, Steve along to help. Max and Scott might accompany, but that was still under wraps. Tommie only trusted his eldest son with the details, wanting the particulars known to as few as possible. Sam would be home for Christmas, not staying for the New Year's party, and had asked his brother and Tommie to tell Alvin and Jenny about the move.

All afternoon Tommie and Rae talked about how to do it; Rae figured it was best to work it in with August. All she would say, but Tommie understood, and thought it smart. Since August, Sam had learned how Jenny turned her life around, part of it due to new surroundings. It would make enough sense for Alvin, only Jenny over whom both Tommie and Rae worried.

At first Sam hadn't wanted her to suspect his feelings, then he offered Tommie an out; tell her, he said. Once I'm gone, tell her the truth. I won't be coming back, not for at least a couple of years, Sam had sighed. Plenty of time for her to absorb it and she wouldn't say anything to Alvin.

Tommie wouldn't argue and maybe it would be okay. If Jenny knew Sam's true feelings, she wouldn't make another peep about his absences, and slowly those absences would fade into the background. She didn't like change, but did accept things eventually. This would just be another crappy thing for her to take.

As evening approached, Tommie felt less and less pleased. Instead of birthday wishes, it would be _Bon Voyage_ to a man Tommie had known forever, one more shitty situation to weather. Nothing anyone could do about it and Tommie looked at his hand, fingers long curled into uselessness, a thumb that still stunned those who had never seen it. He met someone new in town just yesterday, had felt stares from eyes unaware. Always before Tommie had stuck his hand in his pocket or left armpit. Since Jenny had arrived, that limb dangled at his side.

Since Jenny; she had changed so many and Tommie felt she was on par with Alvin, Jacob, and Sam. Jenny Cope was Tommie's sibling, the youngest of his family. He would die to protect her, but in this case there wasn't any more he could do but give her an outline of truth. Sam was going to move far away, start over as she had. But Tommie sighed. Unless he met someone just like Jenny, there would be little chance of that for Sam.

The evening passed quickly, Lexi home from Eugene. Halfway through her second year of college, she and Ricky were inseparable. He had been at the farm all afternoon waiting for her and Tommie and Rae laughed, wondering if they would make an announcement over the Christmas break. Rae hoped not; two weddings in 1978 were all she wanted to manage.

Jacob and Tommie would share Sam's news after cake and ice cream, Jenny and Alvin both in good moods. Alvin had confided to Tommie that Jenny might be pregnant. They wouldn't say anything until after Christmas and Tommie smiled. It would make Sam's news more palatable.

Dinner was spaghetti and meatballs, one of Tommie's favorites, and Jenny had baked him oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, wrapped in a tin, tied with a blue bow. He joked all night he would eat every single one, but even before the cake was cut, Steve and Ricky were caught sneaking cookies. The mood was jovial and Tommie wished his coming words could be held back, but it was already too late. Sam's voice had been stark; he had to get far from this family, one he loved, one who loved him, but with one just too much affection lingered. Tommie had caught the boys eating his cookies and scolded lightly. Taking one for himself, he thought back to meeting Jenny, then that first lunch; she had been ill at ease, how Sam was now. Once he got away, Tommie hoped he would find peace.

The phone rang, Rae got in the kitchen. "Tommie, it's for you."

The rest were clustered in the dining room, the cake on the table, only waiting on Rae, looking for candles. Having bought two boxes, she would squeeze as many on as possible. Not forty-one, all had joked, or the house would burn to the ground. Hearing his wife's voice, Tommie slipped out, finding her ashen face.

"It's Sam," she whispered. "He doesn't sound good."

"Hey, what's up?" As Tommie nodded, Rae moved close, Sam's wrecked tone coming through the receiver.

"Oh Jesus Christ!" Tommie blurted. "Is he gonna be okay?"

"What?" Rae asked.

Jacob and Alvin stepped through the kitchen doorway, both men looking at Rae. "Who is it?" Jacob asked.

Rae mouthed _Sam_ and Jacob came closer.

"Well, that's nice for him to call Tommie," Alvin smiled.

As Tommie offered reassurance and consolation, Rae and Jacob shared worried glances. Tommie passed the phone to Sam's brother, gazing at Rae with tired eyes. Then he saw Alvin.

"So how's Sam? Is he ready to come home?"

Tommie nodded to Alvin's question as Rae gripped his hand, Jacob's soothing tones surrounding all. "Uh yeah. Sam'll be here next week."

Looking at the tin of cookies, Alvin smiled, then turned back to Tommie. "Boy, I can't wait to see him. He's gonna be here for New Year's Eve, right? Gonna be such a different party at your place this year."

Alvin went to leave as Tommie sighed. "Yeah, he'll be here for the party."

Tommie pulled Steve aside even before the candles were lit. There wouldn't be any trip to Missouri in January.

All were saddened to hear that Sam's boss, Phil Jaworski, had suffered a heart attack. Sam would be extra busy for the next week and what good fortune it was that he hadn't snuck down for Tommie's party. Sam had planned on being home a few days before Christmas, but now he wouldn't arrive until Christmas Eve. However, he would stay through New Year's; the thirty-first was on Saturday and Sam would return to Portland on Sunday evening to be back to work on Monday.

After the cake had been eaten and ice cream returned to the freezer, only the four adults and Steve discussed the change in plans. Jenny, Alvin, and Chelsea had gone home right after the last bit of ice cream was consumed and with the dining room door shut, Tommie revealed that Sam wouldn't leave for Missouri until February at the earliest. _The Oregonian_ needed him to stand in for Phil. _The Kansas City Star_ would hold Sam's job until Phil had recovered, and Sam was just thankful he hadn't yet quit his apartment. It had been the timing, Tommie sighed; Sam had been close to heading home, but one more sales call had delayed his departure. As Phil clutched his chest, Sam set down the receiver, and before Sam could pick it up to dial his apartment manager, instead he called the operator for an ambulance.

Phil had been lucky, Sam too. The man he was replacing in Kansas City was only retiring. After a flurry of phone calls, he would wait for Sam's belated arrival. Fortuitous, Sam had said, with little enthusiasm.

Steve nodded, then stood, hugging his dad. He left the room, closing the door behind him.

The rest breathed deeply. Jacob had heard more than angst in his brother's voice, as though Sam was trapped under water, unable to breathe until he was past the state line. Both Tommie and Jacob had thought Sam had been drinking, his speech somewhat slurred. Or maybe it was the emotional wallop, having been so close to departing. Now Sam would come home for not only Christmas, but New Year's too. That year's bash was being held at the Smith farm, the kids in charge. Tommie's barn would accommodate all whom the teens wanted to invite.

But maybe with a bigger crowd, Jenny might get lost. No one said it, yet all faces showed that desire. Maybe Jenny and Alvin wouldn't even stay long if she was pregnant. If Jenny was feeling tired or sick, they might only make a brief appearance. Alana had volunteered her room for Chelsea if they wanted to stay late, but Jenny had smiled, saying they would probably have a few dances, then head home. As Tommie poked his finger into some leftover frosting, he saw his thoughts on the three that faced him. If only Jenny was pregnant by New Year's!

Chapter 7

On that last day of 1977 Jenny woke early, lying next to her fiancé. She and Alvin were still engaged, but with no baby on the way, Jenny's joy was dimmed.

Her period had arrived on Christmas Day, a longer than usual cycle that had enhanced the sense that maybe they had finally conceived. Jenny had tried to be upbeat as day after day passed, but no other signs emerged. On Christmas morning, as Chelsea opened presents, Jenny felt that backache. By noon she was cramping, and by dinner, it was confirmed; Jenny wasn't pregnant.

That had been six days before and now she and Alvin were subdued. Christmas Day had been fraught with emotions; she had been brutally disappointed, but seeing Sam had lifted her mood. She shared their news, which he understood, just like Tommie had. While Jenny wasn't quite that close with Jacob, both Rae and Debbie had been listening ears, yet it was with those two men Jenny felt closest. It was easier talking to them, even easier than speaking with Alvin.

They weren't going to discuss it anymore as he had reached his limit. Jenny wasn't sure how long that attitude would last, but she accepted his pain, and his guilt. Blaming himself, he had asked her to tell him _if_ she was pregnant. Jenny noticed he didn't say _when_.

It would happen, she was sure. They had made Chelsea so easily and it was just bad luck, like Sam's boss. But Phil Jaworski was going to be okay. He would be out of work through February, was hoping to return in March, right as Sam left. Sam had gotten a job out of state, one that would see him nearly as far as The Mississippi River, selling ads for _The Kansas City Star_.

Jenny didn't move in bed, hoping Alvin would sleep. Chelsea was teething and he had been up with her during the night. Jenny had taken the previous evening, both thinking their stay at the New Year's party might be short-lived. Unless Chelsea napped that afternoon, Jenny and Alvin only planned on stopping at Tommie's, then going home. Their mood wasn't celebratory and neither felt like being around others. Sam was going back to Portland tomorrow and if not for him, they might stay home. Yet, Jenny wanted to see him again, one of the last times for a long time. He had made no bones about it over Christmas dinner; once he was back east, he'd be hard pressed to return right away. It wasn't only the travel, but something to which Alvin hadn't been made privy. Only Jenny knew and it broke her heart.

Sam wouldn't be coming home because of her.

Alvin felt Jenny's body atop his, heard her small sounds. They were trying to be quiet, letting their daughter sleep. After days of being apart this felt particularly good, Alvin reveling in Jenny's happy noises, complementing his own pleasure. He might just let her stay on him until he came.

Her long hair reached his chest and Alvin gazed at her with such joy; he allowed the act, not any consequences. He had to put that from his mind or else he couldn't make love to her, or allow her to love him. If he had given her what she'd wanted months ago, she might already be...

"Alvin, oh my god," Jenny whispered.

"Oh Jenny Cope, oh please!" His voice was soft but urgent, her movements bringing him close. Alvin rarely came on his back, preferring to be brought to the edge, then their positions would change. She would lie down and he would be in her as quickly as he could. Yet that morning, Alvin wanted something different. Not that it mattered in how it might make a...

He reached that point from where he couldn't stop. But it was only ejaculating, it wouldn't do anything that day. Jenny wasn't fertile right now, this was just for their happiness. That notion held him off, but Jenny moved in such a way Alvin knew it would be another minute, maybe less. It didn't take him long right after she was done with her period, those five days building to immediate passion. Last night they had made love and for both, it was a few moments of pressure, then release. But for what? He might come in her, even like this, but it didn't matter. Jenny wasn't fertile.

Not now, maybe never again. Alvin sighed, half in ecstasy, the other in exasperation. Maybe Chelsea would be their only baby. He distracted himself from that with Jenny's movements, knowing if he paid attention to only her, he would come in a second. If he had paid attention to her in summer, she might already be pregnant.

He hadn't and it had nearly cost him his life. Alvin had his life because Jenny had forgiven him. She had listened to others, Sam and Tommie somehow getting her back to the farm. Then she was home and now all Alvin wanted was her body to grow. That wasn't happening and Alvin had finally told her not to tell him any more. He couldn't talk about it, couldn't hear it. Didn't want to acknowledge what he had done; made her wait, maybe too long.

Now Jenny was silent; was she listening for Chelsea? Alvin heard nothing, only the pounding of his heart, but not all in delight. Maybe he was too old, maybe his sperm was bad. Maybe Chelsea would be their only baby, but Alvin shut that away. That couldn't be it, for he had seen what mattered, which was making a family. Not only Chelsea, but another baby, even a boy. Maybe two. Maybe Jenny could have twins. With that, Alvin moved his hips forward. He couldn't say any more about babies, but part of her getting pregnant was on him. Alvin looked into her face, finding eyes he adored, brown and beautiful. Then those small freckles on her nose, her gorgeous smile. She had come home and now it was time. With one more thrust, Alvin set inside Jenny himself. It wouldn't make a baby, but it was from how he loved her, all he had to give her.

That evening, Jenny wore her blue skirt with flecks of green, and the purple top, the outfit she wore to that first barbecue. Under her blouse was a blue thermal shirt, one of Alvin's, as it was cold that night, the winter chilly. A few snowflakes had fallen in December, the coming months forecasted with that icy pattern. There were more people than usual, many of them friends of the kids, and Jenny thought it was indicative of what was coming; Sam's move, weddings, a changing of the guard. This party had always been for the adults; now the teenagers were making their stand.

Chelsea went from person to person, but by eight o'clock she was tired, and Jenny took her into the house where those older congregated. The barn was full of teens and Jenny had wondered if a split might occur. She saw Sam talking with Fred Hooper and that notion hit her hard, a division that started with her.

Alana's room was ready and Jenny set her daughter into the playpen, laying the large orange, green, and purple afghan over the sleepy baby. As Jenny rubbed Chelsea's back, peaceful sounds slipped from the toddler. Not an infant anymore; Chelsea was fifteen months old but there wouldn't be two September babies for Jenny and Alvin.

Had they realized their luck in getting pregnant that first month of trying? Jenny sighed, wanting to watch her daughter's slumber, but Alvin waited. They had changed their minds, deciding to stay late. Maybe they would give the Smith household a teething child for one night, get some good sleep for themselves. Sleep, then maybe more lovemaking; Jenny had been surprised with Alvin that morning, he never came with her on top. Maybe that position no longer bothered him, nothing more of Caroline Atherton for Alvin to remember.

Jenny headed down, seeing Sam again. Now she was a reminder and she glanced at him, then looked away, heading to the front door.

She sat in the swing, hearing Alvin's laughter in the barn. He was so loud and she smiled. At least she made him happy, remembering that morning, his blissful face matching her own, even without hoping for a baby. Maybe they needed to take a break and if that did the trick... Sort of how they had made Chelsea, just loving the other. They had planned to start trying in 1976, but at the end of 1975, Alvin had taken her standing up. He had wanted her and then they were pregnant.

Jenny missed the front door's creak as music wafted through the yard, recent disco hits that Tommie had insisted would _not_ be played on his stereo. All had laughed, aware of what the kids preferred. Jenny recalled Tommie's disgusted face when Alana waved her Donna Summer album his way. He had threatened to break it over his knee.

"Jenny, you have a minute?"

She looked up, Sam in front of her. "Oh uh, sure."

"Can I sit down?"

Jenny scooted to the right. The swing could easily fit three but Sam left an open space between them.

She gazed to the ground, feeling a chill. In the packed barn it was warm, the house too, but outside the cool breeze went right through her, extra layers not enough. She had thermal pants on too, the skirt long enough to hide them. Usually with family Jenny never felt chilled, but now Sam seemed off limits.

"Chelsea go down okay?" he asked.

"Oh yeah. She's been teething, didn't get much of a nap this afternoon. I think maybe we'll leave her here tonight."

He laughed. "Let Tommie and Rae deal with her?"

Jenny smiled. "Well, better not to move her if she's sleeping, but yeah, a full night's rest would be great."

It was easier talking to him about her daughter and Jenny searched the yard for Alvin. His tall frame wasn't there but others spilled out, wanting a breather. Disco thumped and Jenny heard Tommie rumbling, already a few beers under his belt.

"He's not gonna take much more of that," Sam chuckled, nodding toward the barn.

"I know. Hard to swallow for that generation."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, I guess I'm on his side."

Jenny squirmed. Sam would leave all their sides because she had been able to make a new start, but Arkendale was his hometown; why did he have to go?

"Sam, I uh, I know why you're leaving." She gazed to the ground, wishing she had kept her mouth shut.

"Oh uh, well yeah, I mean..."

She looked at him. "I feel like I'm driving you away."

"Honey, you're not. I haven't lived here in ages. It's just time." He grasped her hand. "All I know is that if you can move on, it's time for me to do the same. I just can't do it here, or in Portland. I need somewhere different and honey..." He paused, staring into the sky, then back toward her, keeping his gaze just from her eyes. "It's time for me to let go."

Jenny tried to see his face, but he kept it from her view. She stared at the ground again, nodding vigorously.

Giving her hand one more squeeze, Sam stood. Tommie's steps pounded the porch, on his way to the barn. "Death to disco!" he hollered, his gait unsteady.

"Oh Jesus Christ!" Rae slowly came after him.

"Wanna see some fireworks?" Sam smiled.

"Sure." Jenny let him pull her from the swing. Hand in hand, they headed to the barn.

For the next hour, Bread, James Taylor, The Supremes, and Creedence Clearwater Revival blared from the stereo. Older tunes by The Rolling Stones followed those by Sly and the Family Stone, The Beatles, and a few of Paul McCartney's early solo hits. Jenny and Alvin took the slower songs, but when a faster tune emerged, she was on the floor with Tommie, Jacob, or Sam.

As DJ, Lexi played her father's favorites, also Jenny's; Elton John, Stevie Wonder, and Joni Mitchell joined the lineup. As Sam twirled Jenny, Alvin smiled at how well they danced together. Then that gift washed over him and Alvin cringed, realizing why out of all of the other men, Sam danced best with Alvin's girl. Sam loved Jenny Cope.

Was it only that ability to see through people, or did the music offer a window that before Alvin hadn't noticed. Was it fatherhood or that he and Jenny were engaged? Alvin wasn't sure, but as he leaned against a stack of hay bales, sipping his one beer, he was filled with awareness, seeing what had been sitting in front of him for months, ages probably, almost as long as he'd known Jenny. Or as long as Sam had known her.

Alvin usually missed these sorts of things. He was keen to note when people were treating _him_ differently, but this time it was how Sam treated Jenny. Or more to the point, how he didn't treat her; the normal flow of their movements was off. Alvin had seen Sam dance with Jenny lots of times, always so smooth and easy, but tonight Sam seemed shaky and scared. Jenny was a little tipsy, having had a couple of drinks, but the couple was worn out. Not just from Chelsea's teething, but trying to make a baby. Jenny had told him she was going to have a beer that night and he'd seen her with one, then another. That was all, but normally she never drank.

It didn't bother her dancing; Jenny let Sam lead like usual, but Sam was having a hard time staying in control, as though Jenny was Alana from that barbecue when Jenny first came to Arkendale. Alana was so young then, but had led Sam around the yard, fully in charge. Now Jenny was in control, Sam again on the ropes. Maybe that was how Alvin knew; Jenny had put Sam in a corner.

Alvin's stomach ached; that was why Sam was going to Missouri! Not for a new job, but because he loved Jenny. Alvin inhaled; Sam had probably loved her for a while because since Jenny had moved to Arkendale, Sam rarely came home. Even when Jacob was drinking, Sam was around for most holidays. Now it was pulling teeth to get him down and Jacob was sober. He was sober and Maisie was gone and Jenny was here. It was all about Jenny.

Alvin drank the rest of his beer, but his heart hurt, seeing how Sam laughed as though he was happy. Sam wasn't happy at all. He was heartbroken and Alvin lost his breath; Sam had gotten Jenny to come home to Alvin, not to leave for Portland.

Jenny had wanted to go to Portland twice. At first Alvin had persuaded her to stay, but the second time, it was Sam. Sam, who loved her, had convinced her to come home, which meant Arkendale, Alvin's farm. That was Jenny's home and even if they only had Chelsea, they were going to be married all because she had listened to Sam. Alvin stood, needing to know what Sam had told her.

The song ended as Alvin approached them. Sam smiled, sending Jenny to Alvin. "Here you are my friend."

"Oh uh, thanks Sam," Alvin stuttered.

Jenny nestled close as a Joni Mitchell song began. Alvin was familiar with that voice, but wasn't sure of the exact tune. Jenny seemed to know it, humming along.

"Uh Jenny, I uh, I need to ask you something."

"Mmmhmm?"

He stopped, but only his words. It wasn't a fast song, but as usual, Alvin was slow on the uptake, yet he had figured this out. Sam loved Jenny, but hadn't taken her to Portland. He had convinced her to stay in Arkendale and there was no way Alvin could ever pay Sam back for that act of kindness.

"Uh Jenny, what's this song?"

"It's "Blue"," she murmured. "I love this whole album. Glad Tommie kicked out the teenagers." She laughed. "Guess I'm not so young anymore."

"I love you Jenny Cope." Alvin looked around the barn. He couldn't ask her, didn't want August to come between them again. Maybe Tommie knew, or Jacob maybe.

"I love you too. You about ready to go home? Rae said we can just leave Chelsea here, but I didn't tell her about the teething."

Jenny giggled and Alvin held her close. She had been ready to leave, would have taken Chelsea with her. Last night had been so hard staying up with her, but they had nearly left him, the two women he loved most. Sam had lost his wife and baby girl, yet, he hadn't taken Jenny.

He could have, could have just taken her right up to Portland. That's where she had wanted to go in the beginning, but now twice she had stayed here. Sam could have met her there, but she hadn't left. Jenny loved Alvin; they had made a baby together, and were trying to make another. They were going to get married, then Alvin realized why Tommie had told him to ask Jacob to be his best man, saying Sam was too young.

Sam wasn't too young, only in love with the woman Alvin was going to marry. That's why Jacob would be his best man, too much for Sam to take.

As the song ended, Jenny and Alvin moved from the floor. He sat her next to Rae on a nearby hay bale. Tommie stood behind his wife and Alvin thought about asking him to take a walk, find out the truth. Tommie knew, Alvin was sure. Who else? Were he and Jenny the only ones not to know?

Jenny giggled with Rae, who'd also had a few beers. They were a couple of sillies, Tommie laughed, something he used to call his kids. Did they know too?

Sam stood with Lexi, picking out songs, acting with her like he did with Jenny, just family. A strange family, in that none was related by blood. All of Alvin's real relatives were either dead or gone. His family was people brought together by love. Yet, as Sam gave Lexi a kiss on the cheek, a part was being cut off due to love, love that Sam had for Jenny, but was leaving behind.

An old song played that Alvin remembered as one of Tommie's favorites. He and Rae went to the floor, leaving Alvin with Jenny.

"You wanna dance?" she asked.

It was slow, the words sung in a sad voice, like someone saying goodbye. As Sam moved their way, Alvin motioned him over.

"No, I need to go to the bathroom. Sam, you wanna dance with Jenny?"

Sam barely nodded, stepping slowly as if Alvin had told him to walk the plank. Pain was hidden by a smile that Alvin knew well, one Robert Tucker had worn for years, hiding his life from everybody. Sam was hiding too and then Alvin saw Rae's sad eyes. She knew, along with Jacob and Debbie. But that was all, no one else with any idea.

Sam reached for Jenny's hand, then led her to the floor, not pulling Jenny too close, gentle laughter coming from them, chuckles that good friends shared. Alvin stepped to the doorway, his bladder not at all full. It was only a small lie, not like the huge one in Sam's eyes.

Once Alvin and Jenny were gone, Sam had one beer. He was driving back to Portland tomorrow and didn't want to get wasted. He would just enjoy the malt and hops, bitter but somewhere along his tongue the favor was sweet.

This was the last time Sam would come home. He alluded to a visit before he actually moved, but that was a ruse. Sam couldn't see Jenny Cope anymore. He had danced with her several times, holding her as close as was appropriate, but it was that last dance, one Alvin proposed, assuring that Sam wouldn't return. An old tune, as many of them were, one that took all Sam had not to collapse.

He had only wanted to go to the house or just get outside, but Alvin had asked. Sam obliged as Fred Hooper was close and Sam didn't want that bastard anywhere near Jenny. Why Tommie stayed friendly with that SOB, Sam didn't know, but Alvin's eyes had pleaded; was he aware Fred had caused Jenny trouble in the beginning? Sam had seen it right off the bat, so glad she had someone like Alvin.

Sam rocked back and forth on the porch swing, music drifting from the barn, recent songs that he liked, but not the oldies Tommie had insisted on hearing. That last one, Bread's "Picture in My Mind", nearly tore out Sam's heart. Why Alvin had to go then, or why Lexi picked that tune, but closing his eyes, Sam had sucked up one more dance with Jenny Cope, and this really was it; Sam couldn't be near her. She wasn't pregnant, but he wished they would just have another kid, another nail hammered in the coffin. Sam blinked stray tears, then heard Chelsea making noise, leading to a full blown wail.

Upstairs, Sam found Rae sitting on Alana's bed with a screaming toddler in her arms. He took her from Rae. "Jenny said she was teething," Sam said, feeling for an errant tooth. "You got some ice?"

"Yeah."

"Put it in a washcloth. I'll sit with her."

"Okay," Rae sighed.

"All right Miss Chelsea," Sam crooned. "It's all right now." Walking around the bedroom, he bobbed her in his arms and she eased, leaning into his shoulder. "Just a long old day, baby girl, and you got a sore mouth, I know."

Tommie delivered the washcloth and Sam placed the rag in the Chelsea's mouth. She chewed on it for a minute, then turned her head.

"I think she's about out," Tommie said.

Sam moved her from his shoulder, cradling her in his arms. Blue eyes were closed, her cheeks wet from tears. "Yeah, just about."

He cuddled her, placing a kiss on her forehead. Then he laid her down, covering her with the blanket in the playpen. She fussed, then settled.

The men left the room, closing the door most of the way. Reaching the living room, they were the only occupants.

Sam squeezed the rag in his hands, icy water dripping through his fingers. "Tommie, I'm going home."

"Okay. See you tomorrow?"

Sam looked around the room, then glanced upstairs, hearing nothing. "Uh, I dunno. I might just take off in the morning."

"Okay well, we'll see you in a few months before you leave."

Sam's face showed doubt, as he again gazed around the house, thinking back to August. He had stood in the Smith hallway, wondering what in the hell was wrong with Jenny. That memory cemented Sam's decision.

"Tommie, I won't be back. If you and Steve wanna help, I'll see you in Portland."

There were no words from Tommie Smith, only a gentle pat on Sam's back, the rag set into Tommie's good hand. They walked to the yard, then shared an embrace. Sam got in his truck, ambling down Tommie's driveway. Reaching the road, he looked left, toward Alvin's farm. Turning right, Sam headed back to town.

Chapter 8

After two months of snow, Jenny was ready for spring. She had forgotten how much she disliked winter weather, her Colorado childhood hovering. Before her father had assaulted her, Jenny equated snowflakes with sledding and building snowmen. After she was thirteen it meant silence as eerie as thunder.

Her father used the season to spy on her. Jenny had been frantic to maintain what little privacy she had there in the house, her curtains thin and frayed. Her mother never replaced them and Jenny was certain that in the dry, deep drifts her father had spied on her, his tracks covered by new snow that fell overnight.

All through January and February Jenny and Alvin battled snow, no longer actively trying to conceive. Chelsea had become proficient climbing stairs during afternoons spent at the Smiths. Alana, Max, and Liz doted on the laughing child, even Steve and Marcy coddled her. Their wedding was set for the seventeenth of June and Jenny was tempted to start planning her own. By the middle of February, no baby was due.

On the last day of the month, Alvin came home with a story. He had been in town, snow along the road. Some people drove too fast, especially teenagers, and he was going to say something to the kids, making sure all knew to be careful. As Alvin left the grocery store, he had witnessed a terrible accident.

"Gosh Jenny, I know if they get that guy out alive, they'll take him to Albany, maybe Portland. He musta been hurt real bad."

A truck had rammed into the huge oak right across from the parking lot. Jenny knew that tree, four or five feet in diameter. No matter which direction the driver had been traveling, it would have offered complete resistance. "Could you tell where he was coming from?"

Alvin sat at the table, tickling Chelsea's neck. "From the highway. Oh Jenny, he musta been going at least forty, maybe fifty miles an hour. Just nothing left of the cab, I couldn't even tell whose truck it was."

Chelsea couldn't understand what her father relayed and Jenny was glad, squeezing Alvin's hand, thankful he was a safe driver. Sometimes slow, but he was home, and all Jenny wanted was to make love to him, two months of dismal weather dredging memories she hadn't considered for ages. Later she told Alvin those thoughts, snuggling against him in their bed, cozy under all their blankets. But in her gut, Jenny knew that driver's identity was now probably beyond them.

"You hear any more about Grant Schumacher?" Rae asked her husband.

Tommie nodded, finishing his coffee. "Doesn't look good. I talked to Eric in town yesterday, shit. Grant's still alive, but they're not sure for how much longer."

Eric Schumacher was Tommie's age and his younger brother Grant was one of Sam's closest friends. Grant had returned from Vietnam in one piece physically, but mentally he was never the same. He drank like a fish, smoked a lot of pot hanging out with Todd Lambert, trying to recover his life. Grant wasn't married, but had a girlfriend, and now the whole Schumacher clan was camped out at the Samaritan Albany General Hospital. Eric mentioned that Grant was in a drug-induced coma for a brain injury and the family was taking it moment by moment.

"Anyone tell Sam?" Rae asked quietly.

Tommie nodded. "Jacob called him. Said he took it pretty hard."

"He still leaving?"

"Uh-huh." Tommie set the empty cup in the middle of the table.

"You think he'll go visit Grant?"

"He might."

"If he does, you think we'll see him?"

It was the most she might say, the rest waiting in her hushed gray eyes.

Standing, Tommie left the cup on the table. "I doubt it."

On Thursday the second of March, Jenny made lunch for Alvin and Tommie. Rae was busy with wedding plans over which she huffed and puffed, yet all knew she was pleased to help. Tommie had seen a softer side emerge with this project, but he only shared his thoughts with Alvin and Jenny.

Jenny giggled, then cleared their plates. After she set out cookies and milk, she went to the sink, then turned around. "So Tommie, whatdya think about short hair?"

"Oh here we go again," Alvin sighed. "Don't listen to her Tommie."

"What?" he smiled.

"I've wanted to get my hair cut since..." Jenny stopped; in August, wishing to purge Sam's words from her head. His words had stayed, as had the idea of changing her hairstyle. "Well, for a while now. And every time I bring it up, Alvin about has a cow."

"I do not. I just like your hair long."

She smiled, sitting at the table. Taking Chelsea from the high chair, Jenny allowed her daughter to prove her point, sticky hands in Jenny's long tresses. "See, she makes it a huge mess because _someone_ doesn't wash her hands after she eats."

Tommie laughed. "Alvin, first it was diapers and now PBJ. You know, maybe Jenny's right. A shorter style might be pretty."

"But I don't want you to have short hair."

"Honey, I'm thirty-two years old. The ends are horrible and I'm sick of it!"

"How short you want it?" Tommie asked.

After wiping jam from her hair, Jenny cleaned Chelsea's hands, then gave her to Alvin. "Just to my shoulders."

"That's not what you said last week," Alvin sighed.

Tommie chuckled and Jenny grinned. "Well, I did want it really short, like Dorothy Hamill's. But okay, to my shoulders."

"You gonna get bangs?" Tommie asked.

Alvin pulled a face, which made his daughter laugh. "Da-da no!"

Jenny smiled. "Well, maybe. I don't know. But I'd like to find out. Alvin, I need to go into town tomorrow. Rae's gonna take me and Sylvia's already offered to watch Chelsea. What if I just get some of this whacked off?"

Alvin gasped and Jenny reached for his hand. "Okay, not whacked, but at least to my shoulder blades?"

With hair nearly to her rear, Jenny wanted some small change, and with Tommie in her corner, it would only be a matter of Alvin offering one slight nod. When it came, she stood, giving him a tender kiss.

Tommie laughed, taking Chelsea from her father into the living room. Jenny heard him telling her about the snow as Alvin stood, coming close.

"It's only a trim, really," she smiled.

"Uh-huh," he said, running his hand along her face.

"Just something new." Jenny kissed him again, Tommie and Chelsea chattering away.

"I know."

Jenny considered something besides a new haircut. Leading Alvin to the corner of the kitchen, she wanted to share her other reason for going to town. Instead, she pressed against him.

"After lunch, once she's asleep, let's go upstairs," she whispered. "I wanna, uh, show you something."

She felt his erection, heard his throaty giggle. "I'd like that Jenny Cope."

She gave him one more kiss, then went to check on their daughter.

That night, Jenny and Alvin made love, her period due any day. There were no obvious words about babies, only oblique references, but Jenny seemed more lively than usual at this time in her cycle. Alvin noticed her mood, but didn't question it. Since December, he hadn't wanted to talk about a baby.

He didn't that night either, but inferred his thoughts, caressing her belly, then up to her breasts. He noticed that she flinched when he fingered her nipples, but she said nothing.

"Maybe with shorter hair, you know..." Then he grew quiet.

"Maybe," she inhaled.

He lay next to her, absorbed in all she was, his lover, his fiancée, which made him chuckle. They were still going to get married and then he traced her necklace, the rose charm always worn. "Jenny, this is like your engagement ring."

"What?"

Alvin sat up, and turned on his side light, the soft glow illuminating her face. Those brown eyes called to him and he wanted to feel her so close. But even when he wasn't making love to her, that necklace always rested against her skin. He leaned over and kissed it. "I love you Jenny Cope."

"I love you too Alvin Harris."

They laughed; she never called him by both of his names, not as he called her _Jenny Cope_. She began whispering his name, including his middle name of William, repeating it in a sing-song voice as his hands returned to her body, exploring the middle of her torso.

Alvin kissed her belly and Jenny began to moan. There was so much she wanted to tell him, but she would wait. Yet Alvin couldn't. He was on top of her, his left hand resting along her side, his right set between her breasts, gently pressing that rose charm into her skin. As he moved, Jenny wrapped her legs around him, and tried to speak.

He brushed his lips against hers. "No, don't tell me. Not yet."

His voice was that adult tone and she nodded, tears falling. Both were aware, but it remained stilled, this night one last time for them as a family of three.

Early in the morning, Rae took Jenny and Chelsea to town. Alvin didn't mind, for he had made love to Jenny before Chelsea woke, then ate a simple breakfast. Chelsea would play at the Baxters, then come home and take a long nap, or so Alvin hoped. He was aware of more than Jenny realized, her excuse of getting a haircut just that, an excuse. He hoped she would back out of it, but even if she didn't, the news she would bring home would make up for any missing length of hair.

He chuckled, then heard the wheeze of Tommie's truck. Alvin retrieved another cup, poured the coffee, then waited for Tommie's footsteps to reach the back door. Soon they were chatting over a few of Jenny's cookies, but Alvin kept some thoughts to himself.

After an hour, they headed for Tommie's, but Alvin wasn't looking forward to Spam for lunch. Another vehicle rumbled up the driveway. Was it Steve, Alvin wondered. He drove a truck nearly as bad off as his dad's, or was it Rae, already home from town. Alvin didn't think it could be; Jenny's hair appointment was for ten and it was only half past that now.

Tommie stood, going toward the living room. "Well I'll be goddamned. It's Sam."

Alvin jumped from his seat and they watched through the window as Sam exited his truck, hands in his pockets. His face was hard to read, but Alvin still saw someone wishing to be anywhere else in the world.

Alvin hadn't said a thing to Tommie or Jacob, certainly not to Jenny, was going to wait until the next time he saw Sam. But Tommie had said Sam wasn't coming back, and that Alvin needed to keep that to himself. Alvin knew why Sam wasn't coming home, yet, here he was, and Alvin was confused.

"God, I never expected to see you here," Tommie said as Sam came through.

Tommie's shocked tone was more proof and Alvin turned away.

Sam took off his coat, warming himself in front of the fire. "Been in Albany. I guess you know about Grant."

"Jesus Christ, that's where you've been?" Tommie gasped.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, since Tuesday night. Had a few days and well, shit. I had to see him."

"How is he?" Alvin asked.

Sam's face looked the same, if you didn't know. Alvin did and what he saw was hard to view, like seeing Grant Schumacher's busted truck. Sam loved Jenny so much and nothing, not even moving to Kansas City, would change it.

"I think he's gonna pull through," Sam sighed. "I have no idea how 'cause his head went right through the goddamned windshield, but he's outta the coma, talking and almost making sense. Maybe this'll clean him up."

They went to the kitchen, where Tommie pulled out a can of Spam. Then Alvin smiled as Sam offered to take them to lunch. "Where's Rae anyways," he asked.

"She and Jenny went to town. Chelsea's with the Baxters," Alvin said.

Sam grinned but Alvin saw a great weight behind it. "Well then, all the better for us three bachelors to let someone else do the cooking."

Tommie slowly put the Spam back in the cupboard. Alvin listened to their talk as they piled into Sam's truck. Taking the window seat, Alvin watched Sam the entire drive to Arkendale.

They never saw Jenny, but did bump into Rae at Mel's Café, where the foursome chatted for half an hour. Rae was meeting Jenny at the grocery store a little after twelve thirty and was dying to see her new haircut.

"She's cutting her hair?" Sam asked.

Rae laughed. "She wanted to do that before someone snuck into town to talk her out of it."

Alvin smiled. "Well you know, I really like her hair long."

Sam chuckled. "Maybe mine'll end up longer than hers." He pulled back his mane and all laughed.

Tommie gave Rae a kiss, said they would meet at home, and the men got back into Sam's truck. They stopped at the Smith farm where Tommie added wood to the fire, then Sam headed to Alvin's, where Alvin did the same. They stood in the kitchen talking about Grant Schumacher, how lucky he was considering the severity of the accident. Sam gave details and it was even worse than Tommie knew. Grant had two broken legs, a punctured lung, internal bleeding, terms that sounded awful to Alvin. Tommie explained that Grant's head injury didn't seem to be as bad as they first thought, but he would be in Albany a good while to recover.

"Damn lucky bastard," Sam sighed. "I just hope he learns."

"Well, if this doesn't do it, I don't know what will," Tommie said.

Alvin was quiet, hearing pops from the fire, his own thoughts racing. Rae said Jenny was getting her hair done first, but he knew that wasn't true, having heard her on the phone, making the appointment for ten. It was the only one she could get on short notice, and the women had left the farm right before nine. It took ten minutes to get to town, if that; what was Jenny going to do until her haircut?

He had an idea. Loving her that morning, he again ran his hands over her stomach, but didn't say a word. Her smile had been enough, the way she jerked when he reached her breasts, and the slightly sick look on her face. Not quite like before, but enough for Alvin to know.

Those thoughts took him from Sam, which was good too. Alvin had sat right next to him at lunch, while Rae was beside Tommie. Alvin thought that Sam's laughter, his smiles and jokes, were just that, only a joke. The only time Sam had been honest was talking about how lucky Grant was to be alive.

Now Sam spoke about the move, at the end of March. Tommie and Steve would go to Portland with Jacob, then the four men would drive two trucks to Missouri. Tommie's truck wasn't good enough to make the journey, but this way they could trade drivers, Rae and Debbie glad for that. There was snow that day and Sam had driven carefully, was going back to Portland tomorrow morning. Grant was one of Sam's oldest friends and he hadn't been able to stay away.

Yet, he didn't say anything about coming back later. He had kidded about Jenny's hair, but never said he was actually going to _see_ it. Alvin knew that if not for Grant, Sam wouldn't have come this week. He basically said that when Rae found them, that he had stopped in Arkendale because if Jacob found out Sam had been in Albany and hadn't come home, there'd be hell to pay.

Alvin had stopped listening to Tommie and Sam, only hearing the pops of the fire. Then the crying of a cat. "Hey, you hear that?" he asked.

All were silent, then Tommie laughed. "Yeah, that damned tabby. Probably up in the tree."

From the kitchen window Alvin saw a yellow feline clinging to a stark branch. "I better go out there."

"Oh now just leave her. It'll teach her a lesson," Tommie chuckled.

"No, 'cause she keeps Chelsea awake." Alvin wanted his daughter to fall right to sleep once Jenny got home. There might be something to celebrate.

Alvin went through the front door, Tommie and Sam on his heels. Snow was patchy from footsteps, but under the tree it was thick, small cat prints the only marks.

The tabby wasn't high, but cried loudly. Alvin scrambled right up, scooping the cat into his arms. He stroked her fur, then stepped down a few branches and let her go.

Gray sky hinted to blue as Alvin looked up. All his life had been spent on that farm, with these people. Jenny was coming home, maybe with good news, and he smiled, then took a step.

One he missed. Alvin fell, his neck snapping against the hard, snow-covered earth.

Chapter 9

"Jesus Christ! Alvin, _Alvin?_ "

Tommie screamed, then was at Alvin's side, the tall man hushed. His eyelids fluttered and Tommie repeated Alvin's name, blood staining the snow.

"Tommie, oh man, Tommie?"

"I'm here. Whatever you do, don't move. Sam's gone to call an ambulance."

"Tommie, is my head on?"

"What?"

"My head. I can't feel anything. Is my head still on?"

"Oh Jesus Christ." Tommie watched Sam race toward them. "Yeah Alvin, you're all in one piece. The ambulance'll be here soon."

Sam knelt beside them, shaking. Tommie steadied him, then set his gnarled thumb on Alvin's limp hand.

With immense effort, Alvin turned to face the men. "Sam? I gotta ask you something Sam."

"What Alvin?"

No more blood spilled, but Alvin looked ashen and Tommie wiped tears. "Listen, don't talk. Just lie still."

"Tommie, I can't feel anything."

Tommie set his hand along Alvin's cheek, which was cool, or was that from the icy wind? "You feel that?"

"Uh-huh, yeah. Sam, you there?"

"Yeah Alvin, I'm here. It's gonna be okay."

Alvin's eyes rolled to the back of his head and Tommie grabbed Alvin's hand. "Listen goddamnit, stay here! You hear me? You're not going anywhere!"

"Sam, I need you to promise me. You gotta promise me something."

"What Alvin?"

"You gotta take care of Jenny. Jenny and Chelsea and..."

"Alvin! Damnit, stay with me!"

From the kitchen sink window, Tommie had seen how Alvin had landed, right on the back of his head. Alvin couldn't move, couldn't feel anything but fingers along his face. Where in the hell was that ambulance?

"Tommie, Sam, Jenny's uh, I think she's pregnant. She's not just getting her hair cut today. I think she went to the doctor. Sam, you gotta promise me you'll take care of her, of her and Chelsea and the baby."

Tommie ceased his inward prayers as Sam trembled, leaning against him.

"Alvin," Sam whispered, "you're gonna be fine. Just fine."

"Sam, remember how we said we'd do anything for each other? You gotta promise me Sam 'cause I know."

"You know what?" Tommie asked.

Alvin looked right at Sam. "I know you love her."

As Alvin's eyelids fluttered again, Tommie screamed for Alvin to stay with them. Then Alvin stared to the sky. "I saw it on New Year's. I think you've loved her a long time, but in August, you gave her back to me. She wanted to go to Portland. She wanted to go there right when I met her. But she stayed here, and when you could've taken her, you didn't."

Slowly Alvin turned back to Sam and Tommie. "You didn't, but Sam, she's gonna need you now."

"Alvin, stop talking like that!" Tommie snapped.

Sam's lip quivered, tears falling. "Jenny's my friend, just like you are. She's just my friend."

"Sam, you just gotta promise me you'll take care of her, of all three of them. Tell Jenny I love her and that I know. Tell her I knew about the baby."

Tommie nodded at Sam, both men shivering in the cold breeze. "I, I promise. I, we'll tell her."

Alvin looked back to the sky, then lost consciousness.

Sam wept, following the ambulance along Tommie and Alvin's road, hearing echoes of Tommie's hoarse, rattled voice: _Alvin goddamnit, stop this shit right now! Just hang in there, I see the ambulance coming. Alvin, Alvin Harris, you hear me? Alvin? Alvin!_

The ambulance pulled farther ahead, but Sam couldn't focus, Alvin's last words crowding Tommie's fierce demands, ones that Alvin probably hadn't noted. Sam pulled over to wipe his eyes. As he put the truck back in _drive_ , he saw Rae's car approach.

They both stopped, rolling down their windows. "What'n the hell's going on?" she shouted.

Sam saw Jenny, her beautiful brown eyes accentuated by shorter locks. Her substantial joy dimmed as Sam spoke. "It's uh, Alvin."

He wasn't able to finish as Jenny's hands flew to her face, barely muting her scream.

"What?" Rae demanded. "What happened?"

"Just follow me. We gotta get to the hospital!"

Before either could move, Jenny leapt from Rae's car, running to Sam's front seat. Rae nodded and Sam took off as Rae turned around.

Jenny's wails slammed alongside two thoughts in Sam's head; Alvin knew and Jenny was pregnant. She didn't ask what had happened, but Sam filled the cab with details; their lunch, the cat, a fall. Alvin had fallen.

"Oh Jesus Christ," Jenny mumbled. "Not now!"

Sam steered on auto pilot. He had needed a map to find the hospital in Albany, but in Arkendale he could drive and watch Jenny at the same time. She clutched her stomach, rocking back and forth, and Sam knew she was expecting another baby.

They reached the emergency room, where the ambulance sat at the front door. Sam parked, rushing Jenny inside. For a few moments the nurse thought Jenny needed attention, neither able to speak. Then Sam spotted Tommie standing near a cubicle. Sam led Jenny that way, and approaching Tommie, the men shared wary glances.

Jenny tried to see what she could. Doctors spoke to Alvin, but he offered no response. As Rae joined them, Alvin's silence continued.

"No," Jenny wailed. "No, no, _no!_ "

Tommie gripped her as the doctor stepped from behind the curtain. "I'm sorry, we've lost him."

There was no speech in the trauma room, only four adults weeping over the broken body of a man now dead.

Sam held Rae while Tommie cradled Jenny, who sat beside Alvin, holding his hand. Jenny repeated his name, telling him what the men already knew. Rae gasped as Jenny revealed her news; they were going to have another child.

It was obscene, Sam considered. As Rae trembled, he considered Alvin's last words: _Tell her I knew about the baby._

"Jenny honey, he knew. He said he knew."

Her gray, anguished face turned Sam's stomach. A broken neck in the snow had led to a heart attack in the ambulance and now Alvin Harris lay dead.

"He knew?" she managed.

"Yeah honey, he said he knew." Tommie kissed her. "He wanted us to tell you he knew."

"Oh Jesus, but I didn't get to tell him. Oh my god Tommie, I never got to tell him!" Jenny broke down in a fresh round of sobs.

Sam needed to move, but Rae couldn't be left alone. Then he heard footsteps. Jacob's face poured tears. Debbie was behind him, Steve on their heels.

"Oh Jesus Christ," Jacob moaned as Steve came to Rae's other side, also crying. "No fucking way can this be real!"

"Jenny, oh baby," Debbie cried.

Sam stood, joining those on Alvin's other side. Debbie had heard from Tank Miller, who saw the ambulance leaving Tommie's road. By the time Debbie called Jacob at work, he'd heard it from someone else. They had passed Steve in town, and worried that it was his father, Steve had turned right around, but no one expected this.

Sam stepped to the corner, staring and shaking. He had just spent the last two days with a friend who should be dead. Grant Schumacher should be deader than hell, but instead it was Alvin, and he'd known. That dead bastard had known!

Jenny's voice lingered, but she didn't speak of their coming baby; Chelsea needed her daddy and Jenny needed him. Those words struck every nerve in Sam's body. He moved to the hallway, could still hear it. So could everyone else, tears on all faces. Everyone knew Alvin, hell, everyone in this goddamned town knew everybody! As Sam passed a nurse he remembered from high school, he reached the doors leading to the main hallway. Looking out, he spotted the Carmines.

Bonnie and Harold walked along the corridor, which led to rooms where Sam's mother had died, where the Smith and Cassel kids were born, Chelsea Harris too. Babies born, old people dying, but not Alvin. Not Alvin!

"Everything all right?" Bonnie asked.

Weeping was audible from the emergency room. "No."

"Sam, what is it?"

Bonnie's voice was soft and Sam stared at her, then to her husband. Harold's impassive face was as usual until Sam's words hit his ears.

"It's Alvin, Bonnie. He's dead."

Sam led Bonnie into the room, no one having moved. Jenny was still a wreck, Rae and Debbie too. Sam wondered if tonight Jacob might fall off the wagon.

No one said anything to Bonnie as she stepped to the foot of the gurney. Alvin's bare torso showed no marks, his lower half covered by a sheet. She stared at him, then took in the rest. Her hands balled into fists as she passed Jacob and Debbie, reaching Alvin's face.

Jenny looked up. "Bonnie, oh Christ, he fell outta the fucking beech tree!"

As the women exchanged glances, Bonnie lost a tear. Two, Sam saw, but no more.

"I, I'm so sorry," Bonnie muttered.

"And I'm pregnant," Jenny wailed. "I never got to tell him!"

As Jenny collapsed against Tommie, Sam saw surprise on faces unaware. Steve, Jacob, and Debbie, but Bonnie seemed the most affected, horrified a better way to describe it.

"Oh Jenny, oh my God!" Bonnie stumbled from the gurney, then glanced at Alvin once more. She stepped to the door and Harold and Sam followed her.

"Bonnie, about the baby," Sam cleared his throat. "That just came out today. Please uh, you know."

"Of course. We won't say anything."

As they left the emergency room, Harold gripped his wife, the only time Sam had seen any affection pass between them.

He returned to copious tears and people pressed close. Debbie reached for him as Sam stared at a body so still, all life drained from a man active, chipper, chatty, and in love. Alvin had been so in love with Jenny, his last thoughts to her and their children. She was having a baby and Sam had promised. He had promised Alvin he would take care of them.

Tommie seemed ready to crack and Sam moved from Debbie, around Steve and his mother, coming to Jenny and a man who had just lost his best friend, his brother more rightly. Sam was sure Jenny hurt worse, but there was no denying Tommie's agony, and Sam embraced them both.

"Oh Sam, oh god please don't go now, please don't leave!" Jenny bawled.

Sam nodded. "I'm not going anywhere honey. I'm not going anywhere."

In the lobby, as Jenny huddled with Rae and Debbie, Tommie took his son aside. "Don't mention the baby to anyone, not even Marcy, all right?"

"I won't," Steve whispered.

A father hugged his son. Tommie's head was a jumble, but that was paramount. No one was to know about the baby.

Jacob was supported by his brother and Tommie wondered if Jacob could stay sober. But that might be a tough mission for all; Tommie wanted to get stinking drunk. Then he turned to Jenny and Rae. They needed him to be straight. No drinking, not for many hours.

Tommie stood dumbstruck; what in the hell had happened, and what came next? They needed to leave, no use in staying. The nurse had covered Alvin's entire body with a sheet as Tommie led Jenny toward the door. Before they left she had kissed him, whispering in his ear something about their baby and that she loved him. Alvin had known, but still Jenny wanted to tell him.

It was sick, twisted, another unfair, shitty situation, and Tommie felt ill. Watching Alvin fall reminded him of more than thirty years back; again Alvin was screwing around, climbing where he shouldn't, and now that stupid bastard was dead! Stupid, goddamned dumb idiot; Tommie felt no shame in those words. He had told Alvin to let that cat be, but no. He had to climb that fucking tree, and now Jenny was alone. Jenny and Chelsea, oh Christ, Chelsea! Her daddy was dead, that stupid fucking moron.

Swallowing his anger, Tommie walked toward Jenny. "Honey, you ready?"

She nodded, her face so wrecked, like that of her lover's body. They hadn't even gotten married, only one wedding that year. Tommie looked at Steve, his face pale. He had seen dead animals, but never a deceased human being.

"Rae, can you drive?"

She looked up. "I'll be fine."

"I wanna get Chelsea," Jenny muttered. "I need her."

Tommie bent down, stroking her face with his bad hand. "Rae's got her car seat. We'll go get her now."

They departed as a pack; Tommie held his wife, Steve on Rae's other side as Jenny and Sam followed, Jacob and Debbie behind them.

Tommie and Jenny went in for Chelsea, but everyone could hear Sylvia Baxter's tears.

Chelsea was unaware, but soon sensed a change. Jenny sat in Rae's back seat, crooning to her daughter beside her, who asked for her father with every other word.

"Chelsea, your daddy's in heaven," Rae said as they reached their road.

"Da-da, Da-da," Chelsea called.

"In heaven," Rae repeated. "Daddy's in heaven."

Voices were stilled while coffee brewed. Chelsea fell asleep on Tommie and Rae's bed, the door ajar. Jenny sat in the kitchen, women around her, men on their feet, cups in all hands. Jenny's held juice and it was full.

"Honey, please, you need to get something down." Rae's voice was gentle.

Jenny did as she was told, then looked across at Tommie. "How did this happen?"

He again explained the course of events, omitting Alvin's pleas to Sam, but reiterating that Alvin knew about the baby.

"Oh my god, what am I gonna do without him?" Jenny cried, putting her head on the table.

"Honey, it's okay. He took care of things. It's gonna be okay," Tommie whispered.

"But we're not even married, oh Christ! Bonnie's gonna have me outta that house by Monday."

Tommie stroked her head. "Honey, this's your home. No one's gonna do anything."

Jenny gave a cynical laugh. "My whole fucking life's been one disaster after another!"

"Jenny, now you stop that kind of talk." Rae made her drink some juice, then set the cup aside. "If that woman makes any noise at all, I'll flatten her good. Tommie's right. Arkendale's your home and this's where you and Chelsea are gonna stay."

There was no mention of the baby, but Jenny had been sick right after laying Chelsea down, and now looked so green, Sam half expected her to throw up right there. He found himself moving toward her, as though Alvin offered a not so subtle push.

"Honey, we're home now, all of us. You, me, this baby." He touched her middle. "He knew this was coming, and honey, it'll be okay. We'll all be here for you, Chelsea, and Junior. All three of you."

"Oh you promise?" Jenny implored.

As his guts twisted, Sam nodded. "I promise Jenny. I promise."

Chapter 10

By evening the news, still unreal, was beginning to stick. Jenny slept on the Smith sofa while Chelsea's playpen was set up in Alana's room. Ricky had gone for Lexi, that girl too distraught to drive. Even before Jenny lay down at seven o'clock three issues had been decided. First, the funeral would be on Tuesday, as Jenny didn't want Lexi to miss much school. Second, no one else would be told about the baby until Jenny was at least another month along. And lastly, Sam Cassel was coming home.

The first two decisions would be altered before the weekend was over, but the latter was an edict upon which Sam insisted. He had promised Alvin and as the men had agreed to do anything for each other, Sam was adamant. He had made that pact, would see it through.

In the kitchen, the Smith and Cassel parents were surrounded by their children, all but Max and Liz. That couple was in the barn, but even Alana left them alone. Liz had become hysterical, only Jenny to calm her. After Jenny lay down, Max took his girlfriend outside. Liz's sobs could still be detected, taking all Debbie had to stay by her husband.

Jacob was still dry, but no one presumed it would last. He had told Tommie he just wanted one good binge, get it out of his system. Tommie hadn't said no, wishing for the same.

But not until his daughter was home and that was still another hour away. Tommie had told Ricky not to rush, but once Lexi was in their arms, Tommie would pop open a beer, let it slide down his throat. Then another, probably a few more; Tommie would drink however many it took to get to sleep that evening, the first night Alvin was dead.

Tommie was thankful for Jenny's restful breaths. She had been sick on and off all afternoon and evening, eating some chicken soup, propped by Alana and Rae, Debbie and Sylvia Baxter. Keith and his wife had come out, but were in the dark about the baby. Alvin and Jenny were finally pregnant, and Tommie shuddered, so wanting that drink.

The Baxters hadn't stayed long, but the phone had rung nonstop, people in shock. Was Alvin Harris really dead? No one mentioned Jenny's expectant state; Tommie had no idea if she might miscarry, praying she would keep that precious treasure. Alvin was dead, as crazy as that sounded, but Jenny had another baby coming.

Chelsea was still awake, calling for her father. All told her he was in heaven, but it made no sense to Chelsea, or to Tommie. Just hours ago Tommie had lunch with Alvin, then watched him climb that tree. Now he was in heaven.

Tommie wasn't a complicated man. Animals died, landing on the kitchen table. People died and went to heaven. Tommie believed in God, one that allowed his accident, but gave him Rae. Claimed a baby, offered four more. Provided no blood siblings, but there in his kitchen and out in the living room sat family Tommie held just as dear as if all were genetically related. Except that now one was in heaven.

Tommie had called Lorraine Harris Stapleton right before Jenny went to sleep. Jenny wasn't keen on her coming to the funeral, one that Tommie would move to Wednesday. He appreciated Jenny's concern for Lexi's education, but Tuesday was just too damn soon. Debbie had offered her house for the reception and Tommie accepted it. His was bigger but a mess, and Tommie wanted a quiet place for Jenny to rest. He would tell her tomorrow; the funeral would be moved forward one day.

Lorraine had asked when it would be, after taking in Tommie's words, that her brother was gone. He didn't say it like that, for it would have been too vague, Randy Harris' whereabouts still uncertain. Tommie had seen Alvin fall, watched him suffer a heart attack, then had listened to him die in that emergency room. He wasn't sure which of those three was worse, the fall had been hideous, the trauma unit's silence unbearable. Tommie grimaced, wishing for a beer. The heart attack in the ambulance, the last words Alvin spoke; Tommie had set all that aside. He had told no one what happened in that vehicle, wasn't sure if he ever would.

He didn't offer much to Lorraine other than Alvin had slipped from the beech, breaking his neck. She gasped, sighed, then was quiet. Lorraine had always been hushed, such the opposite to her brother. Not only in the dearth of sound, but her mood, looks, and demeanor. Where Alvin was just like their parents, Lorraine was defensive and snooty, more like Bonnie Carmine. Tommie sighed. Of all the people who loved Alvin and knew him best, Bonnie had stood there right after he died.

Tommie wasn't sure if Lorraine would attend the funeral, would get back to her with the exact date. It wasn't going to be Tuesday, if for no other reason than Tommie wanted Lexi home. If she missed all next week, Tommie really didn't give a shit.

Sam watched Jenny sleep, heard her daughter chattering in the kitchen. Chelsea's nap had lasted until after five, just about the time Ricky went to collect Lexi. Chelsea would probably be up late, but emotional factors had caused Jenny's collapse. Sam had walked her to the living room, then sat her down on the sofa, only moments from her being somewhat vertical to horizontal. He covered her with a throw Rae provided, a dark blue, red, and light yellow blanket Sam wondered if Jenny had made. She turned to face the back of the couch, let out one more anguished call of Alvin's name, then was unconscious.

She had cried on and off all afternoon, in between vomiting and drinking 7-Up and orange juice. As the Smith and Cassel kids arrived, fresh rounds of tears poured, but nothing was mentioned about the baby. Steve had pulled Alana and Max from school, Liz and Scott too, word having leaked within the small, tight-knit community, but Jenny's secret was holding.

It had to, Sam thought. She had turned his way an hour into her rest, her face still contorted, with a bit of peace, the piece that was her baby. She had laughed and cried before the kids and Baxters arrived. With those who knew, she'd been at one minute frantic, then elated; how did one balance such joy and desolation? Sam wasn't certain, but finally it had set her under. Was it those teens and the grandparents, unaware of her condition? Had concealing the baby done her in? Sam wasn't convinced if that was the best thing, perhaps people should know. Maybe it might give this miserable, fucked-up day a chance at redemption.

He wasn't sure about that, nor did he think a funeral could be put into place by Tuesday. All Sam knew for certain was his destination. It wasn't Missouri anymore.

Right after Jenny was asleep, Sam called his boss, giving _The Oregonian's_ editor his notice. It wasn't going to be at the end of March as all had suspected, but much sooner; Sam's brother had died.

It was a small lie, but the biggest truth. Alvin Harris was one of Sam Cassel's big brothers and he was dead. That said, Sam then called Kansas City. He wouldn't be taking the job and was more sorry than he could explain to the supervisor with whom he spoke, more sorry than Sam could say to anyone.

Jenny mumbled, moving Sam to the edge of his chair. None here had questioned him, but Tommie and Jacob gave him concerned looks which Sam brushed aside. He had promised, and it was more. Alvin had known that Sam was in love with Alvin's woman, yet, all Alvin wanted was Sam to care for Jenny. No last flurry of accusations, none of that bullshit. Only that Alvin knew and that Jenny needed Sam.

Jenny, Chelsea, and a baby; Sam shuddered at the weight of that trio, but one he could shoulder. Sam used to think Jenny wouldn't be far enough if he was in another state. There, not ten feet away, she might as well be on the moon.

In the horse stall, Max crooned to his girlfriend, Liz's tremors starting to settle. Jenny had been such an influence, but Max hadn't been aware until now how Liz or his little sister looked up to her. All Max could think about was the last time he saw Alvin.

It had been just last weekend, when he and Steve had gone for some tools their father needed. Max had wanted to ask Steve some personal questions, about sex, something he and Liz were starting to consider.

Chatty as usual, Alvin found the items the boys required, Chelsea with him, Jenny inside cooking. The baby was giggly like her father and Max recalled how Alvin flung his daughter over his head, calling her name, then kissing her face. Once the boys drove away, Alvin and Chelsea were forgotten as Max choked out what he and Liz were thinking about. Would rubbers be enough to, well, make sure...

Steve had laughed, ruffling Max's hair. Condoms, Steve drawled, would be fine. Then he did one better, leaving a box in Max's dresser. Max had only found them yesterday and they remained there. Max had no desire to tell Liz, she was too upset. Maybe another guy, like that bastard Chad Lambert, might use a night like this to get what he wanted, but not Max.

"Lizzie, you wanna go inside?" he asked, stroking her damp face.

She nodded, shivered, then turned to him. Her beautiful green eyes were red, but all he had ever loved. "Alvin's gone. He's gone and she's alone. Jenny and Chelsea are all alone!"

Liz didn't cry, but her words struck Max. Jenny and Alvin were about the same ages as his parents, well, Alvin was. Jenny was younger and Max suddenly felt far beyond his sixteen and a half years. He had loved Liz since he was ten which had seemed like _ages_ , but Jenny was only in her early thirties, and now she was alone. Max's father and Alvin were the same age, but Alvin always seemed younger, especially since meeting Jenny. With Chelsea, Alvin had been like a young dad, and Max gripped Liz, realizing their mortality. Strangely, it didn't mean he and Liz needed to have sex right then and there. The condoms might sit in Max's drawer, well hidden, for a good long while. Loving someone, Max had found, wasn't only about sleeping with them.

He stood, then helped Liz from the ground, pulling her close. He had waited years for Liz to see him and if they waited for other things, that would be okay too.

At eight o'clock, Lexi rung from a gas station, in tears. Rae was glad her daughter wasn't driving. Ricky had been troubled by the news, but he only knew Alvin through them.

Agony dripped from the ceilings; in some places, Rae thought she would suffocate. Near Jacob, it smelled like beer, although he was drinking coffee. In the dining room, where the teens had congregated, sorrow was checkered by youth; their memories of Alvin were childlike and free spirited. Rae saw how her youngest son never left Liz's side, Alana with Chelsea in her arms, the toddler bewildered by the surrounding grief.

Steve and Marcy were close, Scott in between the Smith brothers, worry on that boy's face; might Jacob go on a bender? Tommie was itching for the Cassels to leave so he could open a few beers and Rae could use a drink too. But until Lexi came home, no one was going anywhere.

Rae stepped into the hallway, saw Sam starting to doze. He had been in Albany where one family received their beloved from the brink, then come here and watched all hell break loose. Instead of moving at the end of the month, now Sam was coming home. Rae didn't know the details, but it had been made plain; Sam was going to take care of Jenny. How in the hell he would do that, Rae had no idea, but he hadn't flinched after hanging up their phone. Sam had called Portland, then Kansas City, telling Tommie to let him know the charges. The cost of two long distance calls hardly mattered. Rae was more concerned about the price on Sam's soul.

She rarely pondered those sorts of details; all in her head lately was a wedding, one that Jenny insisted take place when Steve and Marcy mentioned postponing things. Before Jenny went to sleep, she told Rae not to change a single plan. All was to go ahead as scheduled, then the poor girl slumped against Sam, and he put her to bed.

Other things might slip, like Tuesday for the funeral, but a June wedding was solid, as was Sam heading north after that funeral. He and Jacob would haul all of Sam's possessions home, a word Sam used more times than Rae could count, but not in conjunction with Missouri or Portland. Where Sam would stay in Arkendale was unspoken, but in how his tired eyes never left Jenny's sleeping form, Rae guessed it wouldn't be far from Alvin's farm.

As Lexi arrived, Jenny didn't stir from relieved parents and Jenny's own baby. Chelsea whimpered, but Jenny didn't move as Alana put the toddler to bed.

Jenny never flinched when Steve gave her a gentle kiss, then took Marcy back to town. Jenny never felt Jacob and Debbie's caresses along her face, nor did she hear the murmurs of teens in the dining room, Lexi and Ricky eating dinner. Jenny didn't hear pull-tab after pull-tab wrenched back, then dropped into beers that Tommie drank, Sam too. Sam only had a couple, but Jenny never heard Tommie's drunken footsteps stumble her way, never smelled the alcohol on his breath as he told her he loved her.

She didn't notice other feet take the stairs, or the door close when Ricky left, nearing midnight. Jenny slept through it all, even Sam's deep snores on the other side of the room. The only thing Jenny heard was Alvin's voice, a tone similar, but forever altered.

"Jenny, honey, it's okay. Here, blow your nose."

The surroundings were seamless and soothing. Alvin's eyes, still so blue, were older. He was older. And whole.

She took the tissue from his hand, blew hard, then wiped her eyes. His hair needed a trim; he looked the same, but so aged. Jenny reached for him, felt skin warm and receptive. He grasped her hand, kissed it, then held it within his own.

"You're not coming home with me are you?" she said, trying to hold back tears.

"No honey, I'm not. But it's okay. You're going to be okay. You," he smiled, reaching for her belly. "And the baby too. It's going to be all right."

She shook, an unspoken worry all day, why she hadn't said any more about it. Tommie and Rae were right; until she heard a heartbeat, Jenny couldn't risk it.

"Are, are you sure?" She set her hands on his, so wishing this to be real. Gazing out, she knew it was fleeting, some small gift, even if of her own making.

He leaned over, kissing her cheek. "Honey, it's real. It's going to be just fine."

Jenny looked past Alvin to white walls. "Baby, I love you. I can't do this without you."

He set both of his hands around hers. "Jenny, I can't stay. But it'll be fine. Everything's in place, you don't have to worry about a thing. All you need to remember is..." Alvin leaned close, whispering in her ear.

She nodded, but immediately his words were lost. "What, what'd you say?"

His smile was familiar, yet this time it was fully cognizant. He was aware of so much, in a manner far deeper than ever in his life.

"Alvin," she called, seeing him begin to move away. "Alvin?"

"Jenny, just remember I love you. You, Chelsea, and the baby. It'll be fine, don't be afraid."

Alvin disappeared into the environment that wasn't walls or ceiling or floor. Only white, everywhere Jenny looked. His voice was right in her ears, but the words he had whispered were gone. Jenny woke, a small light coming from the kitchen. Looking out, all she saw was Sam under the blanket she had crocheted for Steve.

She got up, used the bathroom, heard nothing but people sleeping. How many, she wasn't sure. Lying down again, Jenny set her hands on her stomach; the baby would be fine, was that what he had told her? It was only a dream, but Jenny sensed those words, whatever they were, had been real. Was Alvin in heaven; was there some place he now existed? Jenny wasn't sure; she knew very little, how she and Chelsea would survive, where they would live, how might there be any way she could go on. Alvin was gone, the man she loved, the only one to love her. He was gone, but seeing Sam's closed eyes, hair in a tangle around his head, that beard and moustache in need of scissors, she thought back to her dream. Alvin needed a trim, had said the baby would be just fine.

Pulling up the comforter, Jenny tried to recapture that notion of her life being just fine.

Chapter 11

By morning, Jenny woke to a quiet, nearly empty house. It was Saturday, the fourth of March, and Alvin was dead. That hit her first, immediately followed by nausea. Alvin was gone, but he had left something behind.

Jenny got up, heading straight for the bathroom. She tried to vomit, but nothing emerged. Jenny's breasts ached, but not as much as during her previous pregnancy. She was pregnant; that had come and gone yesterday, but around so many that were unaware, Jenny only half considered it. There, in the hush, that notion bombarded; she was having another baby.

Alone hit next. She was alone, her unborn child and dead lover going hand in hand. Jenny went to the kitchen, smelling coffee and finding Rae. "Where is everybody?" Jenny mumbled.

"Oh Jesus," Rae gasped, turning around.

Jenny gave a small smile. "Good morning. I didn't mean to scare you."

Rae moved Jenny's way, then held her close. "Honey, you okay?"

Jenny nodded. "Who's here?"

Rae rattled off names and locations; only Chelsea and Tommie were present, both asleep. The rest had left, Rae insisting Jenny have some peace and quiet.

"What about Sam?" Jenny asked.

"Oh, he was gone early, checking on Jacob."

Jenny looked into the cup of juice Rae had poured her, took a sip, then stared at Rae. "Did he get drunk last night?"

Rae gazed at the table, then met Jenny's eyes. "Yeah honey. He did, Tommie did, Sam and I had a few too. But don't worry." Rae reached for Jenny's hands. "It was just this once, you know, get it out of their systems."

Jenny nodded, but felt awful. Jacob falling off the wagon would be the last thing Alvin would want. The last thing he had told her she couldn't remember. Well, she could, that it would be fine. That he loved her, not to be afraid, and it would be fine, which seemed trite. Jacob was hung over, Tommie by the side of the road, and Sam was coming home, so many things out of place. Jenny inhaled, clasping her middle. All that and a baby, a baby that Alvin said would be all right.

"Rae, I uh, I wanna get a bath. Wash off yesterday." She smiled as if she could slip into the tub and let her life run down the drain as when she first stayed with the Baxters. She had wanted to just wash off New Mexico, but that seemed like eons ago, a life Jenny no longer knew. Now she was here, a part of this family, even though Alvin was... He was dead and her tears poured.

"Jenny, oh baby, I love you. It'll be okay honey, we're all here for you."

Had those been his words, Jenny wondered, Rae's arms around her. "I had a dream last night that Alvin was fine, like he was normal, and he told me the baby'd be okay. Then he whispered something, and now, shit, I can't remember what it was." Jenny pulled away. "Rae, why's he gone? Why is my husband dead?"

Jenny used that term, how she had started to consider Alvin; they were married for all intents and purposes, but now? "Anyways, in the dream it was like heaven. Probably from all you were telling Chelsea yesterday." Jenny sniffed. "Alvin was fine, functioning just fine, but not here, now, today. Where the hell he is, I have no idea."

She hissed those words, then calmed, remembering how he had appeared, peaceful and adult, how he would have been if not for the accident. How she had seen him right after their daughter was born, a state for which she hadn't cried. She would weep now that he was dead, but Jenny had never wondered what kind of man he _might_ have been until now, having seen that man, even if only in a dream.

"Rae, I love you. You, Tommie, all this family. I don't care what you tell Chelsea, I don't care what kind of funeral Alvin has. He believed in God and maybe," Jenny sighed. "Oh hell, I dunno. Maybe there is one, 'cause how he looked even in some stupid dream, oh Rae, he was okay. He was okay!"

Jenny broke down over a notion never deeply contemplated. "Wherever he is Rae, I know he's okay."

Her tears woke Tommie and Chelsea. Even with a pounding hangover, Tommie collected that girl and brought her to her mother. Jenny clung to her baby, telling Chelsea she was going to be a big sister. With only those three, Jenny let down her guard and celebrated the news she had planned to share with Alvin yesterday.

Tommie saw how much she needed that, and all cried, even Rae. Chelsea laughed, asking for her father, making her mother weep again. This time Jenny told Chelsea that Alvin was in heaven. Tommie didn't pry, would ask Rae later. All he wanted was a bath, clear his head, then make a trip to town.

Jacob was drunk, but Tommie assumed that even before he read Sam's note. As Jenny took her daughter to the tub, Tommie winced at Sam's words. He had talked to Debbie early; Jacob had only needed five beers, then was out like a light. Tommie had also chugged five, causing his hangover. One beer over his usual, but if there had been more, he would have finished those too.

"As soon as she's outta the tub, I'll get one," he said. Their water heater needed time to refill and he wanted as hot of a bath as he could stand. Searing his skin, he wanted to restart his life. Never before had Tommie known such agony, not even learning Jenny's tragedy. This new catastrophe wasn't only hers, but his too, going deeper than Tommie could take.

"Honey, you think this's just, well, a one-time deal?"

Rae's face showed worry and he reached for her hand. "God, I hope so, but with Jacob, who the hell knows? Where is everyone?"

"They all left, probably at Marcy's, although Max wanted to be dropped off at the Cassels. I think Alana was going to one of her girlfriend's. I just wanted them to give Jenny some space."

He nodded. "Listen, if she brings up a Tuesday funeral, just humor her. That ain't gonna happen and I don't care if Lexi's home all week."

"I know." Clutching his right hand, Rae kissed each digit, then his face. He took it further, finding her mouth; they gave thanks, hands on the other, Tommie finding Rae's tears.

"Baby, I love you," he said, kissing her cheeks.

She nodded as Chelsea's giggles and her mother's weeping wafted down the stairs.

An hour later Jenny had eaten. She felt queasy, but not as though she needed a toilet. Rae had taken cleaning supplies into the bathroom, Jenny offering a weak smile.

Before Tommie left, he mentioned the funeral should be on Wednesday, and Jenny hadn't argued. She didn't actually care when or how it was. It seemed unreal, as though she and Alvin had bickered, and once again she was at the Smiths, seeking refuge. The phone rang often, Rae's words now a litany; yes it was horrible. Yes, Jenny was there, didn't want to speak. She didn't want to see anyone, which was the truth. Other than family, Jenny couldn't face a single soul.

The only one she wanted was dead; was that real? Had he actually fallen out of a tree he had climbed hundreds of times? It must have been the snow, as evil in Oregon as what had fallen in Colorado, and Jenny shuddered. She needed to get to the house, collect things for her and Chelsea. She had no idea what Bonnie had planned for after Alvin died, forgetting Tommie's words that Alvin had arranged things. She forgot Tommie's words, Alvin's too, that dream far back in her mind.

Would her baby make it? Jenny couldn't fathom miscarrying his child, all they had wanted for months. The most important person in her life was gone and she couldn't lose the second most precious. Third, this baby coming right after her daughter, who was smelly, having had her morning poop.

Jenny moved to the living room, but it was a mess of blankets. She would have to take Chelsea upstairs. As Jenny grabbed the baby bag, she heard a knock. Rae was still cleaning and with hesitant steps, Jenny went for the door.

"Oh good morning Jenny." Bonnie Carmine's voice was crisp.

"Oh Bonnie, oh uh, hi."

Rae popped her head out of the bathroom doorway. "Who is it?"

"Bonnie," Jenny called, staring at the edgy woman on the front porch. "You uh, wanna come in?"

Bonnie nodded, gripping her purse. As Jenny stepped aside, Rae joined them. "Uh Bonnie, what uh..."

"I came to see Jenny."

"Well, I was gonna change Chelsea," Jenny started.

"Give her to me," Rae said.

Jenny handed the baby to Rae, setting the diaper bag over Rae's shoulder.

"Jenny, I'd uh, like to speak to you. Alone."

Bonnie didn't look at either woman, her cool gray-blue eyes all on Chelsea. Jenny didn't flinch, but her instincts with men returned, choosing which were acceptable from those seeking a more painful release. Jenny had avoided them like the plague, but there was no way to escape Bonnie's presence.

"You can go in the dining room," Rae huffed, taking the baby to her room. "Come on Chelsea. Let's get that bottom of yours sorted. All kinds of messes this morning."

Jenny heard the contempt in Rae's voice, wondered if perhaps Bonnie had too. But this burden Jenny would tackle alone.

It took Rae a few minutes to change Chelsea, not much longer between Bonnie and Jenny behind those closed doors. Rae had ideas, but voices weren't raised, no hint to their exchange. When Bonnie left, looking shaken, Rae was surprised. However Jenny had responded, in quiet tones, had certainly flustered Bonnie.

Jenny crooned to her daughter, fixing both something to eat. While she cried a few tears, the lost, hazy look she had worn since yesterday, jumping from Rae's car, was missing. Rae owned a good idea to Bonnie's purpose and if correct, she would march straight up to Bonnie Carmine and slap her cold. If Bonnie had insinuated what Rae assumed... But it was only supposition, as Jenny said nothing.

Tommie came in, followed by Steve and Lexi. The kids went upstairs as Tommie stepped into the bathroom. Rae wondered if he would notice her handiwork and his surprised face upon exiting told that he had.

"Smells nice," he said.

Rae kissed him. "Well, I felt bad for Jenny puking in such a filthy toilet."

Those words were whispered, for Lexi didn't know about the baby. Jenny gave them a funny smile. "Tommie, Rae, sit down."

They did so and Tommie sighed. She looked less sad, more resigned, maybe just taking in all that was around her. Not denial, only the strange notion of how suddenly her life had been thrown upside down. All morning he had been thinking the same thing, and still had no answers.

Jenny gripped their hands. "I wanna tell the kids, everyone, about the baby."

"What?" Tommie gasped.

"What'd she say to you?" Rae demanded.

"Who?" Tommie asked.

"Rae, this doesn't have to do with Bonnie."

"Bullshit it doesn't." Rae stood, moving to the sink. "That goddamned bitch!"

"What's this about Bonnie?" Tommie turned to his wife as Chelsea whimpered.

Jenny soothed her child. "Bonnie came by here this morning..."

"Now Jenny, don't you mind a thing she says," Rae interjected.

"What now, Bonnie came over for what?"

"Whatdya think?"

"Rae, the kids," Tommie said.

"It doesn't matter 'cause I want everyone to know I'm pregnant and that I'm gonna have this baby. Alvin's baby, god, the only thing I have to hold onto right now besides my daughter."

Jenny stood, rocking Chelsea, who had started to cry. Then Jenny saw Steve and Lexi in the hall and motioned for them. Steve let his sister pass first, Lexi in tears.

"Oh Jenny, oh my God, are you really?" Lexi bawled.

"Yeah, but keep this to yourself," Rae rumbled.

"No Rae. It's better for people to know than to hide what I still have. I still have these kids and no one should think otherwise. If I lose it," Jenny paused, then continued, "at least everyone can share in that too. I can't do this alone, can't figure out how to live without him, or have our baby, I just can't!"

Jenny broke down. Usually skittish of small humans, Steve took Chelsea from her mother. He left the adults in the kitchen, but no one closed the door.

As Lexi wept, Tommie reached for her and Jenny's clasped hands. "Honey, what'd Bonnie say?"

"She told me to get rid of it."

"Oh no!" Lexi cried. "How could she be so awful?"

"How do you think?" Rae yelled. "That goddamned bitch only thinks about herself, never about anyone else!"

Chelsea whined as Tommie brought the women together, wanting to sooth all their hurts. Yet, on Jenny's face he saw the least agony. Some truth had been revealed; was it only the absence of Bonnie's heart? Jenny had told him how Bonnie had wanted to hold Alvin's newborn daughter, but resisted. Jenny assumed Bonnie had a heart, but Tommie hadn't believed her. He still didn't, but Jenny seemed unbothered.

"Listen," Jenny began. "I had a dream about Alvin last night, he said the baby'd be fine. Now maybe I'm fooling myself, but either way, I am pregnant, and whether I have this child or I lose it, it does exist. Today, right now, Alvin's here, right here."

She set their hands on her belly. "He's here, for better or worse, and god, it's all I have left of him. All we have." She blinked as her voice broke. "If I get to keep it, well good. And if I don't..."

Jenny looked at Rae, then gave Lexi a kiss. "If I don't, I'll always have Chelsea and all of you and everyone'll know that at least Alvin and I came close. We almost had another baby, we almost got married. He wasn't ignorant, but a man who loved me, loved his daughter, made another child. It matters that everyone knows he was a real man, with a family, one he made, one who loved him. Maybe the rest of his family went to hell, but we loved him. I made two babies with him and I loved him. I love him!"

Tommie heard those words, was sure Steve did. If it had been summer and the house its usual open stance, the neighbors half a mile away wouldn't have missed it. And with tears pouring down his wife's face, Lexi in her mother's arms, Tommie saw that Rae had heard it too.

Before Jenny would tell anyone else, she needed to see Jacob, and Tommie drove her into Arkendale.

He thought Jacob was probably asleep again, those five beers affecting a man two and a half years sober more than Tommie had considered. Having spoken to Sam, both were taken aback, Jacob waking looking like death warmed over. His tumble off the wagon was more like Alvin's fall, causing deeper damage than the eye noted.

Tommie and Jenny found Sam and Debbie in the kitchen, Jacob napping on the couch. This house held only adults and Jenny received hugs as Tommie looked around the room, curtains pulled tight like the old days.

Jenny changed that once Debbie let her go, light flooding the room. A sunny day had melted snow, warmed the earth. Jenny wanted to stop by the farm for a few things, mentioning she hoped the place where Alvin fell wouldn't be marked. Tommie had wished for the same, and expected it would just be hard dirt that still would have killed Alvin, but hopefully that exact spot was no longer prominent.

With the change of lighting, Jacob stirred. "Jesus, what'n the hell you all doing here?"

"It's the Welcome Wagon," Jenny said. "Time for you get sober."

He laughed. "Honey, I love you but shit, what'n the hell else you expect?"

She smiled and sat down. He didn't smell good, but Jenny didn't seem to mind, placing his hand on her baby. "Jacob, I'm pregnant."

He nodded. "I know honey."

Jenny looked to all standing around her. "I'm gonna tell everyone 'cause this isn't something I wanna hide. It's not something I'm ashamed about 'cause I loved him." She paused, wiping her face. "And I love you too and you can't do this again."

"Jenny..." As Jacob sat up, Debbie brought him a cup of coffee. "Honey, what can I tell you?"

"If you have one more drink, and I mean even one more, so will I."

Jacob and Sam chuckled, but Tommie and Debbie remained still.

"Honey, that's the last thing you need." Jacob reached for Jenny's face.

"I know, same for you. It'll kill you, me, and Alvin's baby."

The room went silent. Tommie hadn't expected this, but Jenny wouldn't capitulate, not with Bonnie or Jacob.

"Shit Jenny, what're you talking about?"

"I'm not kidding Jacob. If you drink, so do I, me and this baby. The last thing I want is to lose this child or hurt it in any way. If you start drinking again, that's just like putting a knife right into me."

Both Jacob and Sam's faces were ashen. They had no idea of what Jenny had already faced that day, someone telling her the last bit of the man she loved wasn't worth keeping. Bonnie had said it was too large of a risk and now Jenny was alone; how could she raise one baby and maybe another with problems? Why Bonnie only saw Alvin one way, Tommie couldn't fathom, but it would never change.

Lost in his thoughts, he had missed Jenny and Jacob's words, but now they wept, Debbie too, tangled in each other's arms. Sam had moved to the recliner. He looked exhausted; how much sleep had he actually managed over the last few days, sitting with the Shumachers in an Albany hospital, now in the last place he wanted to be. As Jenny's voice grew louder, Tommie helped Sam stand, leading him out back.

"Was she serious?" Sam asked as soon as the door was closed.

Tommie nodded, then shared Bonnie's visit. Sam gripped himself. "Jesus fucking Christ!"

"I know. That woman."

Sam stomped around the grass. Sounds from inside were audible and Tommie felt chilled. The day was warming, slushy snow in the Cassels' backyard, but Tommie felt cold from far within. A beer would do the trick, and he would drink an extra on Jacob's behalf.

"Tommie, is she really gonna tell everyone?"

"Yeah, tonight. She wants everybody over for dinner. Gotta stop at the Baxters, them too."

"Okay, whatever she wants."

"Sam, you sure about coming home?" After Alvin fell, Tommie wanted to corner Sam alone. Was it too late now? So many decisions had come down in less than twenty-four hours, more than Tommie could process. He only wanted one beer.

"I promised him I would." Sam stared at Tommie. "He knew. How'd he know?"

Tommie shook his head. "Beats the hell outta me. That bastard was smarter than I ever thought."

Sam went to Tommie's arms, repeating what he couldn't shake loose. "How'd he know Tommie? How did he know?"

Chapter 12

A hole blazed through Jenny; she wondered if it was heartburn as she told the rest her good news. Then she accepted tears and hugs, Sylvia and Liz at Jenny's sides as Alana cooed to Chelsea that another baby was coming. Jenny noted worried looks on Tommie and Rae, but Jenny had to let it out. If nothing else, Alvin would have been a father again.

Jenny couldn't go to her house, not even after Tommie told her what was coming. He had seen Jeff Wheeler, receiving condolences and assurances. Whenever Jenny was ready, Jeff would read her the contents of Alvin's will. Tommie's words had soothed Jenny some, but not enough to ease her to the farm, and she made a list for Lexi and Rae.

Waking again on the Smith sofa, Jenny felt that gaping center wasn't simple indigestion. Loss and grief were settling, nothing she could do. By Sunday afternoon, surrounded by family, she finally remembered its origin, nearly twenty years in the past. A similar revulsion had haunted after her father's initial assault.

As though her chest would never heal, breaths emerged with great effort and she still couldn't believe Alvin had left the house to her, to her and their children. Now there was another, but even that baby couldn't calm its mother. The devastation of life without Alvin had descended, and as her whole existence shattered when she was thirteen, again Jenny Cope faced change. Not small or inconsequential, but a massive alteration, even if she continued to live in the same house. A home Jenny knew was now hers, but without Alvin, what was the point?

On Monday, she didn't eat except when Rae sat next to her. The baby was losing ground, Jenny was shutting down. As if a thousand thunderstorms had landed in Arkendale, she was hushed, unable to move. By that evening, Tommie threatened to take Jenny to the hospital, but she ate more than at lunch, claiming she was tired, needed to sleep. Jenny just wanted to die, but didn't say that out loud. Yet, to all it was obvious; her resolve culminating from Bonnie's Saturday visit had vanished.

Sam spent Tuesday afternoon at Debbie and Jacob's. His presence was twofold; to help clean and to keep an eye on his brother. Something else lay within Sam's heart, but no one breathed Jenny's name.

He had seen her crumbling, felt utterly helpless, trapped by the paradox of Alvin's request and his knowledge. As Sam shook out rugs, swept away cobwebs, then removed dust bunnies, his hands were tied. He wanted to do what Alvin had asked, but how?

Sam and Jacob would drive to Portland right after the funeral and Sam hoped to be back by late Friday. Most of his things were already packed, possessions waiting for a trip east. Now it would be a short jaunt compared to what had been planned. Nothing went to schedule anymore, nothing made sense. Sam flopped onto the couch, watching particles float through the air.

"You want some coffee?" Debbie asked.

"Nah. Well yeah, sure."

He heard the old vacuum running upstairs. Liz, Scott, and Max were tackling that part of the house while the adults cleared where most would congregate, so many folks in town having given Sam their love, and even more for him to send to Jenny.

He found the mug in his hand, then looked to Debbie. "Thanks."

She set her palm to his face, it felt wet. Sam hadn't realized his tears, only the vague warmth from the cup. The coffee steamed and he held it by the handle.

"You're welcome to stay here," Debbie said. "That back room's pretty small, not that warm, but honey, it's yours until you find a place."

They hadn't talked of where Sam would live. He knew where he wished to be, but that felt so wrong, even if it was what Alvin requested. Had Alvin really wanted Sam to take care of Jenny and... her kids. She had two kids now and Sam wanted to be with her. She'd been so debilitated the last few days, but it wasn't right at all, just moving into Alvin's house, taking over where he left off.

"Yeah, that'd be great. Just till I figure out where I need to be."

Debbie's smile was gentle, then filled her face. "I know where you ought to be. In the meantime, while you guys are packing, we'll get the back room cleared out. So much crap in there, probably good to have a reason to go through it."

As Debbie walked toward the kitchen, Sam pondered her words. For the first time since Alvin died, that heavy, aching guilt budged, allowing Sam one painless breath.

On Wednesday morning, the Smith house was up early, the funeral for noon. Jenny had only thrown up once since Bonnie's visit, but her mood remained dismal, and all were worried sick. No one said anything explicit, but her every need was attended, the gaunt, frozen look on her face hard to view. Tommie had an idea from where it originated, even spoke of it with Rae, who agreed. Jenny was a kid again, trying to fathom her life brutally torn apart.

Tommie attempted to separate this current disaster from what still lay in her heart. She wept little, clinging to him, how he knew. In her movements and voice, she was Alana's age, a young girl suddenly turned into someone else. She didn't know what that was and Tommie held her, wiping the few tears she released.

Jenny shied away from her daughter, but Chelsea didn't mind, Sylvia and others nearby. Chelsea still called for her father, but sparingly. She would forget him, Alvin erased from her mind. In Jenny's broken stance, he was losing his footing in her too.

Alvin had been intrinsic to this woman, one who only a few days before had been defiant. Now Tommie realized Alvin's plea. Jenny would need Sam to care for her not just because Sam loved her, but that he understood Jenny better than any of them.

Tommie felt gutted; he loved her too, but had no experience with such misery. Sam had stayed at the Cassels, preparing for today. Today, Tommie saw, was when Jenny needed Sam, with many more ahead.

"Rae," Tommie called.

"What?"

He looked to his wife, then at Jenny, shaking in his arms. "Call Debbie. See if Sam has a minute."

Tommie waited for Sam outside, a dry, cool morning with occasional high cloud blocking the sun, increasing the chill. The funeral would be at Alvin's church, which Tommie knew would be packed. Heat made by so many might thaw this iciness, one Tommie still carried except at night, getting drunk. Every evening since Alvin died Tommie had gone to bed with no less than four beers in his stomach. Then he spent the rest of his waking moments fighting the cold.

The graveside service was only for family, but Tommie expected a few stragglers. The only outsider Jenny wanted was Robert Tucker, keeping the reasons to herself. He had stopped by on Monday, offering Jenny one small moment of relief. Privately they spoke in the Smith dining room; Robert left in tears, Jenny wrapped tightly against a man who had taunted Alvin from grade school. Tommie didn't understand it, but had seen the peace brokered by Alvin last year when all was fine, even with Jenny and Alvin's short split. One due to fear and the past, a history now dragging Jenny back to hell.

Tommie rubbed his arms. Dressed in a dark blue suit, he had refused to buy a black one when his father died, wore the same for his mother, then for Betsy Harris. He had dressed in nice jeans when Maisie Cassel passed, but for Alvin, a man like a brother, out came that suit, one that still fit. It had been baggy years before, now was a bit snug, but what Alvin deserved. It was a suit for family, and hearing Sam's truck approach, Tommie needed all the kin he could get.

Sam wore a shirt and tie and Tommie smiled. It looked incongruous with Sam's long hair, which was combed back, his beard trimmed.

"She needs you," Tommie said.

"What? She okay?"

Sam headed for the door, but Tommie pulled him back. "It's like she's thirteen again and I don't know what to say to her. She's just falling into a deep hole, worse than last August. She's back to when she was a kid and if we don't get her out..."

Tommie wanted to say: _If you don't get her out._ This wasn't Tommie's forte, but for someone who'd had experience with this kind of hurt.

"What'n the hell can I tell her?" Sam looked to the ground.

"I don't know," Tommie sighed. "But something, anything. She's not eating, won't hold Chelsea. Sam, I know what Alvin told you, but what I think he also meant was she needs you because of Tracy. Shit, who knows what he meant, but Rae and I, hell, we don't know what else to do."

Sam nodded and Tommie led him inside, kids and the Baxters milling about. Tommie pointed upstairs. "She's in Lana's room."

Alana held Chelsea, who was dressed in a dark blue skirt and sweater, navy tights and black Mary Janes. Chelsea seemed sad, the first time Sam had seen her that way.

"Lana, let me have her," he said.

"You sure?" Tommie asked.

Chelsea went Sam's way, setting her head on his shoulder. As Sam went up, Chelsea's eyelids drooped, as though she could fall asleep in his arms.

"Jenny, honey, can I come in?"

A small hum was noted as Sam opened the door. Jenny lay on her side facing the far wall, a crocheted blanket over her. What looked to be a black dress poked from the top, Jenny's short brown hair loose on the pillow. He hadn't said much about that haircut, one he thought made her even more beautiful, especially now. She looked older, like a mother of two, a woman having lost so much, no longer a girl.

Yet, as he came around the side of the bed, her face was that of a young teen, her life stolen by hands familiar but so wrong in the doing, in the taking. Sam struggled not to drop the baby. Chelsea had gone to sleep against him and he laid her in the playpen, covering her with that brightly colored blanket.

It was purple, orange, and green, pastels that sounded awful, but looked charming with cream rows buffering the colors. Those hues had been appropriate for either a boy or girl, would also suit whatever baby Jenny was carrying. She looked small and adolescent, but was thirty-two years old, the couple's birthdays only weeks before. Alvin had been forty-one, Jenny was nine years his junior. That age gap never seemed real; they were made for each other.

Now Alvin was gone, and she was alone. Even with two children, Jenny was solitary, how she must have felt as a girl, her family suddenly no more real than what Alvin had been. He'd been here, then was just as quickly whisked away with no more explanation than what Jenny's father had perpetrated. No reason or purpose, none they could fathom, just shit happening, and Sam spoke those words softly, not to wake Chelsea.

Jenny looked at him, brown eyes edged in red, her face wrecked. Not from recent tears, but memories flooding her being. Alvin wasn't there to keep her from remembering and Sam lay down, wrapping himself around her.

"Baby, oh Jenny Cope, it's okay. I'm here, it's gonna be okay."

She nestled against him. "No one's gonna call me that anymore."

Sam kissed her head. "I will. Can't help it."

She pulled back, staring at him. "It's so close, all right here."

Pointing to her heart, Jenny set her hand there. Then from underneath her dress she pulled a necklace, one Sam hadn't before seen.

"He gave this to me last year for my birthday. I never take it off, but maybe today, maybe at the cemetery. He said it was my engagement ring, told me that just the other night. The last night."

Sam touched the silver rose. All they had been to each other shone in that charm, making Sam shudder. "Don't take it off. He loved you, gave that to you. Just leave it right there."

She nodded. "I never thought I'd hurt like this again." Trembling, she set her head against Sam's chest. "Just like when I was a kid, after he, he..."

"I know baby, it's okay. Just let it out."

Jenny kept still.

"You want me to take Chelsea downstairs?"

Jenny shook her head. "How am I gonna live without him? How am I gonna go back to that house, just me and her? After my dad, I used to think how could I live there with all those memories, not the bad ones, but the good ones. I don't remember them anymore, but back then I did, and how'd I do that? How do I go back to where he died?"

Sam smoothed her short hair that didn't catch in his fingers, how her childhood had disappeared, as if through a sieve. While Sam's wife had held onto everything, Jenny had discarded all of her tainted upbringing. If Tracy had done that, maybe she would have survived.

He murmured those thoughts softly as not to disturb Chelsea. Jenny's nod and a hand to her unborn baby told Sam she was listening. She didn't answer, but began to relax, a flood of silent tears falling.
"Sam," she finally whispered. "Will you take me to the house? I, I need to see it before we bury him."

"Of course honey."

He eased her from the bed, his arms around her, taking the stairs slowly. Rae got Jenny's coat as Sam explained. Tommie would accompany them, then Jenny looked to those in the living room.

"If any of you wanna come," she said.

Sylvia nodded, as did Alana and Lexi. Max grabbed his sweater as jackets were gathered, Sam helping Jenny into her long coat. Standing next to Keith Baxter, Rae kissed Jenny's cheek as the group headed to Alvin's.

Standing between Sam and Tommie, Jenny felt that hole shrinking, as though stitches were being pulled through her skin. Again Sam's words stuck with her and she inhaled; this house was her home. Tommie had said Alvin left it to her, which still seemed unreal. Yet, as they approached, the beech stark and guilty, nothing else had changed.

That tree seemed desolate, mourning as they all were. She looked to the ground, saw nothing different. Daffodils poked through green grass, almost ready to bloom. One was so close, and Jenny picked it, wondering if it held an orange center. Those were her favorites, Alvin's too.

She moved on, a trail of people behind her, Sam at her side. Those stitches felt tight, her body sealing off the life she had lived here only last week. A life that meant her man, her daughter, a baby. That child hadn't been assured, but now Jenny's stomach churned, the first time her baby had really been home.

For days, it was only a possibility. Now it was a certainty, Jenny was having Alvin's baby. He was gone, but she, Chelsea, and another child would live here. This was her house and it was temperate inside. Tommie had run the heater so the icy feeling Jenny had expected wasn't prevalent.

Blankets and toys lay scattered, just as she had left it on Friday, before her hair was cut, before her baby was known. Now Alvin was gone, Jenny no longer had long hair, and another Harris was coming. Another illegitimate Harris offspring, but that wasn't what truly bothered Bonnie Carmine.

That name stirred Jenny's blood. How dare that woman ask Jenny, no, almost demand she get rid of her baby, the last piece of Alvin. Feet moved up the stairs and Jenny peeked into Chelsea's room. Was there space for a twin mattress as well as the crib? Jenny wanted this to remain the nursery. Other bedrooms were upstairs, but she didn't want Chelsea that far away.

She could squeeze another bed in here, raising a small smile. Then, more slowly, she approached her room, feeling Sam's hand in hers.

Together they crossed that threshold. Jenny winced as one last tug along her heart set her body back correctly, but not as Jenny wanted. Yet, here was their bed, dressers, those lavender curtains with blue and yellow flecks. The bed was made, she had done that before she left, but after Alvin had made love to her, touched her belly, as though he knew. His smile, as he fingered her breasts; he had known. He'd said to her the night before not to tell him, not yet. _Not yet_ : he had been aware she was pregnant!

Jenny turned to Sam, nodding her head. "I think I can come back here."

He squeezed her hands. "Honey, it's where you and Chelsea belong."

She nodded, then walked to the hallway, gazing up stairs which led to the third floor. "Sam, you mind staying here with us, just for a while?"

Jenny said those words without thinking, but it seemed right. She didn't want to return alone and Sam hadn't yet mentioned where he would live. He could sleep at his brother's house, at least for a while, but it seemed silly for Sam to get a place when he could easily stay here.

She looked at Tommie, who had been close all through the tour. He seemed cautious and tired. She grasped his right hand, then gazed at Sam. "I don't wanna be here alone and Tommie and Rae have their own lives. Not that you don't." Jenny's voice went low.

Sam joined them, looking right into her eyes. "Honey, I'm coming home for you and Chelsea. Wherever you want me to be."

"Oh here, oh god please! I can't be here alone, not right now. Maybe later," she cried, taking Sam into her arms. "But right now, I need you."

Jenny missed the looks exchanged between the men, only hearing the pounding of Sam's heart, then his words. "I'd do anything for you Jenny Cope."

Chapter 13

Sam and Jacob left Arkendale at four, stopping for gas on the way to Portland. Reaching Sam's apartment, Jacob called home; Max played cards with Scott and Liz, but Jenny had gone with Tommie and Rae. Jenny had been a little sick, but that wasn't a surprise after the Carmines' disturbing appearance at the Cassels.

Bonnie's presence had unnerved everyone except Jenny. Her visit to the farm had recaptured some peace; after the service, she set that daffodil on top of Alvin's casket. Amid white and red roses, a single yellow flower reminded how special Alvin was, and Jenny had wept in Sam's arms as they left the cemetery.

She had stayed calm during the reception. As Sam and Jacob prepared to leave, Bonnie appeared, her face pale and edgy, as though wanting one more chance to convince Jenny, and there Sam stopped. All that mattered was Jenny having that baby. Tommie had taken Bonnie outside, their words loud and uncompromising. Then Tommie told her to go, but Bonnie continued. When Jenny stepped out with Chelsea in her arms, Bonnie was silenced, Jenny's words plain.

"Chelsea's fine and this baby will be too."

Sam had watched from a window as Bonnie's jaw dropped, Jenny grasping her belly. Tommie then blocked Sam's view, putting his arm around her, and Sam had left not fearing for Jenny's safety or mental health. Only a small bit of his own, Jacob's and Tommie's too. Sam hadn't missed the amount of alcohol Tommie put away that afternoon, often sneaking out back, a beer in hand. A few six-packs had appeared, bad taste in Sam's opinion, but some people were that way. He suspected it was Fred Hooper, who hadn't been at the funeral, but had stopped by the house. Sam wanted to throw that bastard out on his ear, but by the time he'd had a chance, Fred was long gone.

"Jacob, I'm exhausted. You want another blanket?"

Sam was sore from nights on his brother's couch, time spent consoling and comforting, and his mind spun. In two days this place, his home for years and years, would be wiped from his head. All his life spent in Portland, Oregon, work and women, would float as memories. Sam wanted to sleep, wanted to erase all that had been, but what would remain, who was he? A widower, a man in love with a woman unattainable, yet, he was going to dwell in the same residence as Jenny Cope, on the third floor of the house she and Alvin had shared. Her house now, that farm was going to her.

Hearing his brother's request, Sam grabbed another blanket from the back closet. It was cleared of all but a few linens and pillows, and he set the extra comforter on the edge of the couch. "I'll see you in the morning," Sam called.

As Jacob waved, Sam went to his room, shutting the door. He undressed, then felt the soothing, familiar sag of his mattress. He was asleep before the first image of Jenny hit his brain.

On Friday, Lexi babysat Chelsea while Tommie, Rae, and Jenny went to town. The meeting with Jeff Wheeler was for nine o'clock, and after giving her daughter a kiss, Jenny sat in the back of Rae's car, clutching her purse. After the interruption on Wednesday, Jenny had pointedly asked that Bonnie not attend this gathering. Only Lorraine would join them, her singular presence at the funeral as strange as Bonnie's actions.

Jenny wasn't sure why Lorraine was coming; maybe Alvin had left her something. Tommie only knew what Alvin had told him, that Jenny, and any children she might have, would inherit the farm. She looked out the window, spring in the air. As though Alvin's death had wiped winter from the skies, now blue enveloped the horizon. Jenny planned on spending that night in her own bed if Sam and Jacob got home. If she didn't have to sleep there alone, Jenny would take Chelsea home.

It was to be their home, the farm, orchard, and garden, but Jenny wasn't sure what that meant; would Bonnie still have a role? Jenny didn't want that woman at all involved, but who knew what Alvin had orchestrated. Jenny realized very few things; her children, this family, Sam coming to stay with her. That trio kept Jenny together and she wished for Chelsea in her arms.

Those few black days had been terrifying, and Jenny was so thankful for Sam's insights. He was so much like Alvin, but deliberate; Sam's words came from a head all in one piece. By luck Alvin seemed to say the right thing, be there at the right time. Sam had been set in Jenny's life for another purpose, one for which she was equally grateful. As if the other part of Alvin, Sam had eased Jenny's heartache not once, but twice. And he was going to stay at the farm so she wouldn't be alone.

Was there enough money to cover that aspect? Jenny didn't want Sam to worry about a livelihood. He was going to become a farmer, he had joked, telling Tommie he would need some pointers. Jenny had thought maybe Steve could help too, earning some money for his impending change of status. But the farm always seemed to run on the brink, maintained solely by Alvin's faithful hands. Sam was an ad man, not an agriculturalist, and Jenny hoped there might be some way to squeeze a second stipend to cover Steve.

Tommie parked along the street, Jeff Wheeler's office in his house. Jenny got out, feeling queasy. She was good with numbers, all those years figuring tabs. If there was some way to pay two men, Jenny would count pennies, do whatever it took. She wanted her children raised as their father would have wished; learning about trees, growing vegetables, feeding chickens, and running in the soft, green grass. Jenny inhaled, then wiped a few tears. A week past her lover's death, she walked between Tommie and Rae.

They were welcomed by a woman who introduced herself to Jenny as the attorney's wife. Mary Ann Wheeler wore a gentle smile, asked if they needed anything. Jenny requested some water, which arrived as they were ushered into the office. Another chair was found as Jeff Wheeler greeted them, introducing himself to Jenny.

Gray hair was short and thick and he wore glasses that didn't add to his fifty years. That was all Jenny noticed, observing a room full of books, framed certificates, and family photographs. He looked upright; Tommie said this was a man they could trust.

"I heard from Alvin's sister this morning. She was going to be here, but changed her mind. There wasn't any reason for her to attend and I guess she decided the drive wasn't worth it."

At the service, Lorraine had stared as if Jenny had won some prize, similar to looks men used to give, as though Jenny needed them.

"Well good. Now as long as no one else shows up," Rae sighed.

Feeling Rae's squeeze, Jenny gave a small grin.

"No, I don't think anyone else is expected," Jeff Wheeler said.

He read the formalities, which only took a minute. Alvin had been of sound mind and body when he made this will, in early August 1975. Jenny gasped; he had set this in motion even before they had slept together.

Tommie kissed her cheek. "Honey, I told you. He had everything taken care of. You don't need to worry."

"Tommie's right," Jeff said. "Jenny, you and your daughter won't ever have to worry about money."

She glared at him. "Mr. Wheeler, please. I know the farm barely turns a profit."

The attorney cleared his throat. "You don't know the extent of Alvin's estate, do you?"

All three gazed at him, Tommie to speak. "What do you mean?"

Taking off his glasses, Jeff Wheeler breathed deeply. He had only met Alvin's mother once, not long before she died. Her will had been simple, leaving almost everything to her eldest son, a small allowance to her daughter, and nothing for the other surviving boy, Randall Harris' whereabouts unknown. If Randy was alive, Betsy had sighed, he could take care of himself. Alvin, however, needed provisions. Bonnie Carmine had sat next to Betsy, her troubled, pinched face one Jeff Wheeler never forgot. He was glad she wasn't there and hoped Alvin's girlfriend could handle this on her own. Jeff Wheeler didn't want to deal with Bonnie Carmine ever again.

"The farm is a tax write-off, all it's been for the last ten years. I've been handling the Harris estate since 1968, after Randy fled. Betsy wanted things in place after Adam died, but it wasn't until Randy left that she came to see me. She and Bonnie Carmine."

Jenny gripped the edge of her chair. "Mr. Wheeler, what do you mean the farm is a tax write-off?"

"It was left for Alvin, something for him to do. From what I know, Alfred left Betsy with significant holdings, stocks and bonds. After his death, Betsy and the Carmines continued investing, eventually making the farm obsolete. At the time of Alvin's death, the estate's worth is over five million dollars."

"You've got to be kidding," Rae exclaimed.

"Did Alvin know this?" Tommie asked.

"To be honest with you, I tried to explain when he came to make the will, but Bonnie downplayed everything. Alvin's only concern was that Jenny be deemed his beneficiary even though they weren't married. I assured him whoever he chose to inherit was his choice and he insisted it be Miss Cope. And any children she might have."

"But, but did he know?" Jenny whispered.

"I assumed he did. When he left, he and Bonnie spoke privately, then she asked if there was anything that could be done to alter the provisions Betsy had wanted. Betsy never wanted her son to worry, but I thought he knew. From the way he talked, I thought he was aware."

Jenny trembled. Bonnie probably would have received the farm, or rather, the estate. All of it would have gone to the Carmines, but Jenny, Chelsea, and another of Alvin's bastard children would now inherit what Bonnie had so carefully maneuvered, the least of which made Jenny laugh. "So there's five million dollars and the farm he loved was just to offset some of that?"

Jeff nodded. "You, your daughter, and from what Tommie tells me, another baby, are set for life."

"And where does Bonnie figure into all this?"

Five million dollars was far more than Jenny could administer, but she would manage as long as Bonnie was no longer involved.

"Mrs. Carmine's role ended the day Alvin died." Jeff Wheeler's voice was final. "I think he only kept her on because there was never any pressing reason to change the arrangements. But he did request that if he predeceased Bonnie, her involvement would cease." Jeff read to them in legalese, then in plain English. Bonnie Carmine was no longer tied to Alvin Harris' farm, or more importantly, to any of his holdings.

Tommie walked around the office as Rae gripped herself. Jenny began giggling wildly.

"Honey what?" Rae asked.

"Oh my god, a tax write-off! If that doesn't explain everything, Jesus! And the whole drive here I was hoping there'd be some way to pay not only Sam but Steve too."

Tommie placed his left hand on her shoulder. "Jeff, what happens now?"

"I'd suggest Jenny hire an advisor to go over the portfolio so she's aware of just what's involved. As for the farm, you can hire as many men as you like. That won't be any problem."

"Can you take care of it?" Jenny asked.

"Well, in the short term, but finances aren't really my specialty. I know some good accountants in Albany. They'd be happy to talk things over with you. As it's set right now, you wouldn't need to change a thing. I've looked over the investments. They're in safe funds, nothing that needs immediate attention."

"I'd like to keep you on retainer," Jenny said. "You've been handling this for years. I don't see any reason to change attorneys."

Jeff smiled. "That's fine. I'll just add the baby, along with Chelsea. All of you were named as beneficiaries, in a manner of speaking."

Tommie and Jeff continued, their conversation swirling over Jenny's head. She coveted Rae's touch and the men's soothing words, yet Jenny felt cold, even without the threat of how to keep things running. All of Alvin's work had been a farce, something over which Bonnie Carmine had one last laugh. Feeling ill, Jenny asked directions to the bathroom.

As they waited for Sam and Jacob's return, all were in shock. Alvin had been a millionaire, but probably never knew it. He had never known the paltry harvests were no bother, most likely planned, Jenny said. All his life's work had only been to better line Bonnie Carmine's pockets.

That was revealed only because Jenny asked. Bonnie had received a stipend for her efforts, which increased alongside the estate's holdings, reflecting Bonnie and Harold's astute business sense. But Alvin hadn't wanted Bonnie involved after his death. Perhaps it was only to spare Jenny from having to deal with her, no one knew for sure. Alvin hadn't curtailed Bonnie's input during his life, but the Carmines would receive nothing more from the Harris farm.

More to the point, the Harris holdings. Lexi viewed the paperwork, her major in business helpful in explaining the figures. Alfred Harris had been long involved in the stock market, but Betsy and Bonnie decided it was far beyond Alvin. They left him out, the farm his only concern. Yet, what Bonnie could have done to improve things, and not simple household appliances. The trees were never properly fertilized, no money for it, Alvin had said. If only he had known.

But he had never been told, living from season to season, making the best of things. Bonnie and Harold Carmine took vacations and drove their big car while eking Alvin a miserly stipend, few luxuries gracing the farm. Jenny had browbeaten Bonnie into the new washer and dryer, but Alvin still drove the same old truck, scraping together bits here and there to keep the barn in one piece. As people spoke, Alvin's accomplishments still in present tense, Jenny clenched her fists, thinking how hard he had worked, how much of him dwelled in that land. That land had been maintained to a minimal degree so it could better offset what Bonnie had thought more worthy.

Revenue had been more important than Alvin's farm. Jenny knew the infuriating reasons behind it and ran to the toilet. Nothing came up, but as Lexi and Rae stood outside the door, Jenny dry-heaved again. Her beloved had worked his ass off for a woman who never gave a shit about him.

Those words stayed in Jenny's gut, but she would need to spill them, no good for her or the baby to have that stewing. Maybe tomorrow she would walk to the cemetery, tell Alvin. At least he would keep a secret.

She stepped from the bathroom, finding worried faces. "I'm okay." Then she looked toward the door; Jacob stood in Debbie's arms as Sam moved from Tommie's grip. Jenny's heartbeat increased. That night she and Chelsea would sleep at home.

The rest of the evening was spent recapping the day for the brothers, both of whom were as surprised as everyone else. Jenny wanted Steve to teach Sam how to run a tractor, her voice between a laugh and the truth, which gave all a moment to smile. It had been such a long, awful week, but with Sam's possessions in two trucks and Jenny's baby known, the first steps were being taken. Bonnie Carmine was no longer tethered to them and Jenny felt able to breathe. The money never entered her head, except that now there wouldn't be any worries. Bonnie couldn't run her out of town or take the farm. It was for Jenny and her children, and with Steve hired, family would run it. Jenny mentioned to Tommie and Rae that if Lexi needed extra funds for school... These people were Jenny's family and as they had taken her in, cared for her, it was what Alvin would want, had he known.

His unawareness still bothered her. "I mean, that woman," Jenny said to the adults after the teens cleared from the dining room. "All those years she never said shit to him. God, all the things he used to talk about!" Jenny's voice broke. Wiping her eyes with an unused napkin, she reached for as many hands as she could. "He loved that place, only wanted to run it the way he thought was best with what he had. If only he'd been aware!" Then Jenny looked at Sam, seeing tears. "He'd be so glad you're here."

Sam nodded. "I know."

Jenny sighed, people like herself, aching for one so loved.

Sam drove his truck to Alvin's while Tommie gave Jenny and Chelsea a lift in Rae's car. His pick-up was on its last legs, and Jenny told him to think about getting a new one. Tommie had smiled, said he would use Alvin's if it came to that.

The boys followed in Steve's truck, unloading boxes from Sam and Jacob's vehicles, piling everything into the barn that didn't need to go into the house that night. Sam didn't have much furniture, but his bed went to the third floor, in Randy and Adam's room. It was late by the time things were arranged, Chelsea in her crib, undisturbed by people on the stairs. Jenny stayed in the kitchen, busying herself with small tasks. Someone had cleaned out the refrigerator and eggs waited in cartons. Steve had been in charge and was greatly surprised by Jenny's offer to run the farm, at least until Sam had a handle on things, which might be a while, Sam had smiled. Steve and Marcy needed the extra income and Jenny was happy to pay him an adequate wage.

Goodbyes were said, including one last kiss from Tommie. Jenny wondered if he would go home to a few beers. That hadn't escaped her notice, but things were still so raw. Jenny ached being in this house without Alvin, only wanting to tell him what Bonnie had kept from him all these years. Jenny felt once she said those things, maybe she would feel better about Bonnie and the farm. Alvin's absence would take much longer to reckon.

With the fire stoked for the night, she locked the door. Jenny climbed the stairs, ghosts tugging at her heels. She didn't look back, checking on her daughter. Chelsea was asleep, having asked for her father a few times that day. It was becoming sporadic, each time reaching into Jenny, reminding her who was gone.

She would have called for Sam, telling him goodnight, but didn't want to disturb her child. Jenny went up those stairs, ones she hardly traveled, finding him putting clothes into his dresser. The room wasn't large, but adequate, and it was only until Jenny could be here alone. Maybe once the baby came, and she set her hands on her stomach. It was still flat, would be that way for a while. She was looking forward to feeling that child, a physical link to a man she had to forget. So many men Jenny Cope had left behind, and never had she wanted it to be Alvin Harris.

Not when she tried to leave in 1975 when he told her he loved her, nor last August when he said no more babies. Not ever, yet, change had again found Jenny and one way or another, she would learn to adapt.

"Sam, I just wanted to say goodnight."

He turned with a smile. "If you need anything, please honey, just shout."

She stayed near the door, offering a grin. "A quiet shout, don't wanna wake Chelsea."

"Yeah," he smiled.

They said nothing more, but as Jenny went to leave, Sam reached for her shoulder. She turned, his face expressing more than she could note.

"It'll be okay Jenny. Just give it time. After a while, it'll be okay."

She breathed; Sam had lost a wife, their baby, then found a way to go on. Jenny had her daughter, another child coming, wasn't alone. Going to his open arms, she let out the day in her cries. Somehow, some way, this would pass. It had to.

Chapter 14

"Jenny, hand me that netting," Rae called from the back of the dining room.

Moving slowly, Jenny set a pile of light green squares near Rae. The wedding was two weeks away and rice sat in a bowl in the center of the table. Thin, yellow ribbon would to be cut into strips, tying off the bagged rice, but Jenny wondered how much of it might poke through the netting.

"How much of this will we lose?" she asked, sitting beside Rae.

"Oh some, but once they're on this platter, I don't care."

A large silver tray had been delivered a few days before, an ornate touch for Gloria Lewis' only daughter's reception. Rae had grown a bit skeptical, her initial pleasure waning as the big day approached. Was it Marcy's family or Rae's own, Jenny wondered.

The lack of family, Alvin's absence still so heavy. Or maybe Tommie, who in the three months since Alvin's death had changed in ways only his own witnessed, late nights spent out in the barn, beer cans piling. Mornings were hard too, Tommie not rising early; while Steve and Marcy would live in an apartment not far from Jacob's house, that eldest son and Max were seeing to chores usually managed by their dad. No one said anything and Jenny hoped once the wedding was over, maybe a change would emerge.

She had altered, her body more quickly revealing this pregnancy. At four months along, the baby was felt by all. That had only begun a few days before, Sam noticing Jenny's child, then Chelsea and Steve. It had made little impression on Steve, but Sam had shed a few tears; he had felt both of Jenny's children first. Tommie had been next, sporting a half-drunken grin worn whether Tommie was inebriated or not. Jenny had set any and all hands upon her small belly, as though Alvin was evident. She had been waiting for this, once the heartbeat had been detected.

The women filled the netting, making over one hundred sacks. It seemed excessive; only eighty guests were expected, but Rae didn't want Gloria to think she was cheap. Jenny had never been to a wedding and tried not to think of her own. Would she and Alvin have been preparing to tie the knot? Her life before had been led with the notion of time as abundant. They always had more time than money, yet that was no longer the case. After visiting a financial advisor in Albany, Jenny had a full grasp on Alvin's estate, and the figures staggered, stocks in precious metals as well as the automobile industry, now rebounding after the energy crisis. Jeff Wheeler had assumed the totals were in the mid-single digits, but the sum was closer to eight million dollars.

Money had never meant anything to Jenny beyond a means of escape, enough cash to catch a bus, eat a meal, get a room. Now she oversaw a portfolio that would provide not only for her, but the Smith and Cassel families too. Jenny had organized trust funds for those teenagers, as well as Chelsea and the coming baby. Tommie had refused a new truck, but Rae had matching kitchen appliances, including a dishwasher which Alana adored. Steve and Marcy's wedding present was a microwave oven and depending on how they liked it, Rae hinted she might want one too.

There was money for Lexi's tuition; Alana wanted to teach, but the others were far from deciding. The only thing realized for those kids was between Max and Liz, their relationship having cooled. Feelings had changed, neither teen ready to move that far.

Jenny eyed the pile of satchels, green netting and yellow ribbon eye-catching and spring-like. Thunderstorms had held off, early summer warm and pleasant. Rae was sure rain would crash the wedding party, but other than complaining about how fancy it all seemed, even she had kept mum about the weather. No one who knew wanted to contemplate how Jenny might react now that Alvin was gone.

That never left, not money enough or time to bring him back. Jenny spoke of him more than people assumed she would. He would be so pleased with how well things were coming along, Steve and Sam busy with the orchard and garden. Chelsea had helped plant carrots, squash, eggplant, and strawberries, Jenny making jam next summer once the runners were producing. She was sewing new bedding for the crib, neutral colors, although privately she was convinced this baby was a boy. She wasn't as sick and as she told only Rae, if Alvin was around, he'd be more frustrated than not, Jenny's libido as absent as her dead lover. Rae had gaped at Jenny, both for the confession and the way Jenny brought Alvin into it. Then the women laughed, for it would be true. If Alvin was alive, he'd been taking cold baths daily.

_If Alvin was alive_ was spoken by Jenny, unsaid by many. Three months had passed, but life continued, the wedding easing minds from what the end of winter had so cruelly stolen. Sam drove the tractor, used a hoe, ran a hose; the garden needed water as clouds weren't cooperating. The trees seemed to fare better, but Steve lamented that it would be a shame for all their additional work to be undone if no precipitation fell, fertilizer and extra care for an orchard now sporting small green apples. Tommie said they looked fine, followed by a long, deep sigh. Nothing more was noted as Tommie climbed back in his truck, going home.

He was checking the cows that afternoon, Chelsea with him. He took her for walks when Jenny visited, Chelsea's hand in his on the way to the fields, then she would return in his arms, usually asleep. The few times Jenny had met them, Tommie had been quietly telling the napping girl of her father. Streaks on Tommie's face told Jenny much, along with bloodshot eyes from where those tears had sprung.

That afternoon was the same. After the last bag of rice was tied, Jenny left the house, finding Tommie toting his parcel. Jenny took her time, seeing the Smith farm with different eyes; everything was altered.

Tommie put his bad hand to his lips, giving a smile. "She was out as soon as we headed back."

Jenny ran her hand along Chelsea's blonde head. "You can just lay her on the couch. She say anything?"

"Lots of gibberish, but cows, grass, and sun were pretty clear."

"Sam understands her better than I do," Jenny smiled as they reached the house.

Chelsea didn't stir and the adults went into the kitchen. Tommie drank a cup of coffee, then water, all Jenny saw him consume during the day. It was after supper when he popped open a beer, followed by another, then a few more. More than his limit of four and now it happened not only on weekends but every night. Jacob had stayed sober, Jenny willing to follow up on her threat, yet with Tommie, she stayed mute, unable to breach his obvious problem. She wasn't sure why, was it an allowance for family, more difficult to call one's sibling on the carpet? Jenny and Sam had talked about it; they spoke of many things after Chelsea went to sleep. Sam hadn't been able to stop Jacob from numbing such pain. Jenny and Sam spoke of Tracy and Jenny's father, but shied away from speaking overtly of Sam's daughter. Jenny felt it was too close to her situation, or maybe Sam had nothing to say.

Jenny wanted to say something to Tommie. There, in the Smith kitchen, he was clear-headed, his yellow eyes the only warning sign. Jenny took his hand, feeling a squeeze stronger than she knew. They both knew but said nothing.

"Mama, down!" Chelsea pointed to the floor.

Jenny held a skillet, scraping grease into a can. "Just a minute."

"Down, down, down!" Chelsea's small voice increased with each word.

Jenny set the empty pan on the back burner. "You'll just have to wait."

She washed her hands, then heard the tray's click. "Chelsea Louise Harris, you are incorrigible, wrapping innocent men right around your finger. No shame little girl, no shame."

Jenny turned as Sam removed her daughter. Chelsea's laugh was hearty as though she understood all her mother said.

"Shall I get her into a bath?" he asked.

"Yeah, I think she got gravy everywhere tonight."

Jenny stood, hands on her hips, an apron over a large t-shirt of Alvin's, as she had kept some of his things just for these days. With her pregnancy apparent, she preferred wearing his clothes around the house. It kept him close and while she had maternity outfits from Chelsea, Jenny eschewed those unless she was going to town. Rae had made her a lovely peach dress for the wedding, Chelsea in a matching outfit. That was a week away and Jenny only needed new panty hose. She hadn't required any when pregnant with Chelsea, but Jenny would splurge for this occasion.

She hadn't bought new shoes, the silver flats still serviceable, but Jenny wouldn't use them past this gathering. Her feet were starting to swell, and she had worn the flats around the house to confirm they were comfortable. Not when she cooked, nor at the end of the day. Jenny knew her limits, and had told Rae she might bring slippers for the reception.

She wasn't planning on dancing, only talking with Lexi, catching up with that girl. Jenny knew Liz would be close, and Chelsea? She would take her mother's place on the floor, either in Tommie's arms or Jacob's, or with her Grandpa Keith. The Baxters were invited and Jenny could also chat with Sylvia. Rae would be busy with the wedding party, but the rest of Jenny's family would be her companion that evening, a night she wondered where Alvin might be.

Jenny blinked away tears, his name and weddings causing her to spill. Sam had taken Chelsea upstairs and Jenny heard giggles, splashes too. She had confined her breakdowns to bedtime, and she fingered her necklace, running the charm around the chain. Chelsea made a racket and Jenny smiled, drying her eyes. She cleaned the kitchen, then sat with a glass of milk. Footsteps were heard, and she looked up, seeing Sam and Chelsea in the doorway.

Jenny had eliminated Chelsea's bottles during the day, but relented at night, Sam with that task, one that he loved. Jenny saw it in his pleased eyes, heard it in the adoring voice drifting from the couch once Chelsea had a bath and was dressed for bed. She was twenty-one months old, had started sitting on the potty when Jenny went to the bathroom, and no longer asked for her father. Alvin was gone, even with Tommie's stories, Sam's too. Jenny spoke of Alvin, called him _Daddy_ , but without his daily presence, Chelsea had set him aside.

"It's ready," Jenny said, not running the bottle under warm water. "I'm thinking, after the wedding, I may just take it away."

She planned to nurse the baby, but was tired of bottles. Depending on how the new child did, Jenny didn't want to fight with Chelsea over which bottle was whose.

Sam nodded, hoisting the sleepy girl over his shoulder. From the kitchen Jenny watched how he sat, then settled Chelsea in his arms. As she took the bottle, Jenny came closer, laying a pink blanket over her daughter. She looked so much like Alvin, but Jenny gazed past that, to Sam's face. His bliss couldn't be hidden, and Jenny moved back, allowing them this moment.

She returned to the kitchen, wiping down counters. The sense of family still remained but the intimacy was gone. Sam was a close friend and Jenny wondered if others who cohabitated as platonic roommates shared as much as she did with Sam, confiding in him her fears, aches, and longings, all but those of a sexual nature. Then she smiled, hearing Sam take the stairs. She had told him _why_ she thought she was having a boy, and he had laughed, said Debbie had joked of the same when pregnant with Scott. Jacob had spent nine long months complaining about not getting any, to which Jenny had giggled, then grown quiet.

That had occurred before Jacob had been a drunk, before Sam had lost his family. Jenny was weary, but her mind was provoked. As Sam returned to the kitchen, she took some cookies from the jar and set them on a plate. "You want some?"

He smiled. "Sure. One of these days she's gonna cotton on that mommy has dessert after she's gone to bed."

Jenny chuckled, retrieving the milk. "If I gave her one, she'd never go to sleep."

Sam sat where Jenny placed his glass, then grabbed a cookie. "She was tired tonight. Tommie carry her back from the field?"

"Not today. Said his back hurt." Jenny ate her cookie, then looked at the plate. "Rae said he fell the other night getting into bed."

Instead of Sam's late daughter, Jenny spoke of Tommie. Why he stumbled was unstated, but that he was so drunk to have missed the mattress worried her. "Sam, I uh, oh hell."

He took her hand. "Honey, he's trying. It's just hard."

"I know. Sam, I wanted to ask you something. Maybe it's not even a question, rhetorical, I guess. God, the things I say now, things he wouldn't understand."

Jenny finished her cookie and milk, then took her glass to the sink. Removing her apron signaled the end of her day, having worn it while making dinner, then through doing dishes. She hadn't wanted a dishwasher, thought it excessive with only three of them. Rae and Debbie had families, but here it was only Jenny, Chelsea, and Sam.

They weren't related, just people in the same house. What she missed was a family. With Alvin, she'd had a small one, but now she was back to being someone's roommate, or Sam was hers. Then her tears began. This house had been for a family, then Alvin alone for so long, then again people filled it, people whose reciprocated love constituted what Jenny thought of as a unit. Immediate family, and her heart felt like breaking.

"Jenny Cope, oh honey, it's okay."

Sam was beside her, then she was in his arms. That name still filled her ears, but Sam's voice was different. Soothing, yet so aware, knowledgeable, _deliberate_. It was the only word Jenny could find to describe Sam's bearing. In that way he was so alien to Alvin, who had fallen into situations by luck. Dumb luck, and she shook her head.

"God Sam, how long is this gonna last, gonna hurt?"

Jenny sobbed, rocked by the sensation of family, one seeming so solid, again in pieces all around her.

By the end of the week, Jenny was often in tears. Steve only popped his head in, busy with wedding errands. He and Marcy were going to California for their honeymoon, a week spent in Fort Bragg camping on the beach. Then Steve would return, splitting his time between Alvin's farm and the Smiths' place. Sam hoped by then Jenny would be over the worst of it, but until the wedding passed, her moods would continue to fluctuate.

Friday morning was clear, the skies blue and friendly. By noon, clouds approached, and at three, lightning flashed. If not for that, Sam would have continued in the barn. Instead thunder beckoned, Jenny an unknown.

He found her on the couch, reading to Chelsea. Jenny was pensive, but tried to appear normal. Sam got some water, then joined them on the sofa.

Jenny smiled but it was forced, and Sam took Chelsea, making her giggle. He coveted those happy sounds, but today they were tempered by the numb look on Chelsea's mother. Sam put Chelsea in the playpen. She grumbled, then lay down. Soon she was asleep.

Another flash hit, but no sound. Sam scooted closer to Jenny, touching her knee. She jerked, then moved to him, sitting by his side.

"It's teasing me. Oh Christ, I hate this!"

Sam put his arm around her. Since becoming roommates, loving her had changed. It was protective, not as aching. More as a brother, but sensing her anxiety stirred memories of his late wife, and Sam felt the sneaking return of a notion he had set behind him.

"Listen, she's asleep. You wanna catch a nap? Tomorrow's gonna be a long day."

Jenny nodded and Sam helped her stand. She was halfway up the stairs when the rumble started and Sam ran to her as Jenny gripped the railing.

"It's okay, I've got you," he said as another clap erupted.

She was silent and he moved her up the stairs one at a time. When they reached the landing, she looked back, her daughter undisturbed. "At least this's something she'll never know," Jenny whispered.

Sam caressed her face. "No honey, she never will."

At the reception, Jenny sat at a table with Sam, the Cassels, and Keith and Sylvia. Jenny hardly saw her daughter after the meal, Chelsea in the arms of so many admirers. The ceremony had been simple, and Jenny had cried over how beautiful Marcy looked, how happy Steve seemed. She had never known him so animated, not while talking sports or cows. There, taking a wife, Steve Smith was completed, how Jenny imagined his father was when marrying Rae, how she and Alvin might have been.

Tommie was sober and Jenny wondered if it was an act, or maybe he had turned a corner. She hoped for the latter, but wouldn't hold her breath. She watched couples dance, her daughter in the middle of things, chatting and laughing, but it wasn't Alvin holding Chelsea.

Jenny drank water as toasts were made, one of Steve's high school buddies wishing the couple well. Marcy's parents were gracious, both Gloria and her husband Gabe thanking Jenny for her help. It had only been with the rice, but Jenny thought it boded well, the Smith and Lewis families now legally bonded.

Dwelling in the country, Jenny wouldn't bother with Gabe and Gloria. Jacob and Debbie lived in town, but that was only a formality, the Baxters too. The Lewises ran with different folks, but the Carmines weren't in attendance. Jenny hadn't seen Bonnie since the funeral and if she never again laid eyes on that woman, it would be too soon.

Sam danced with Lexi, Ricky with Alana. Duos swarmed the floor of the Arkendale village hall, Marcy and Steve so besotted, their eyes only to each other. Jenny didn't feel abandoned, only solitary, but she was resigned to her fate. No one would bother her now; she and Alvin hadn't married, but she was a widow of sorts, one whose beloved could never be replaced.

Sylvia sat down and grasped her hand. "You feeling all right honey?"

Jenny hadn't realized she was crying and wiped her face. "It's just so much."

Sylvia nodded. "Keith and I celebrate our fortieth anniversary next year. I think we'll have a big 'do right in this room."

"Oh you should." Jenny forgot her blues as they discussed details.

Sam appeared with Chelsea in his arms. She went to her mother and Jenny kissed Chelsea's neck and face. What she would give for Alvin to take her hand, lead her to the floor, their daughter and unborn child between them.

"Jenny Cope, you wanna dance?"

Her head spun, for it sounded so familiar. She looked up and for a moment Alvin beckoned, tall and smiling, hair falling into his eyes. Then she blinked. Sam stood in a white shirt and tie as he had worn at the funeral. Jenny shook her head, clutching her daughter.

At the evening's end, rice and yellow ribbons littered the ground. The couple had left in Steve's truck, cans tied to the bumper, _Happy Honeymoon_ written on the back window. Jenny stood with Tommie and Rae, Chelsea in Keith's arms, a group huddled as the first married Smith-Cassel child departed, leaving parents, siblings, and other relatives. Jenny wasn't Steve's blood aunt, but as Tommie's only sister, she held that man's bad hand, feeling that stump. Then a kiss, as Tommie leaned over, his breath faint with champagne and strange foods Rae never cooked, fancy hors d'oeuvres that later on might not sit well with a six-pack.

"Your first wedding," Jenny smiled.

"God, am I glad that's over!" Rae glanced around, but they were the only ones still outside.

Tommie chuckled, kissing Jenny's cheek. "Yeah, I wonder who's next."

Lexi stared at the ground as Max shook his head. "Don't look at me," he said.

Siblings headed inside, soon joined by Liz and Scott, only parents and grandparents watching the skies.

The day had been dry, but the rain from Friday had soaked the ground, rain that fell all afternoon and evening. Now the air was clean and crisp, and Chelsea babbled, wanting to run.

Keith set her down, Sylvia on her heels. Chelsea toddled, tumbled, got back up, then returned to her mother.

"C'mere you lug." Jenny had managed in the flats all day, but now her feet hurt, and with Chelsea's weight, her back ached too. Jenny went inside and the rest followed.

She sat at their table, a few guests milling about. Music played, Max and Liz in an awkward dance, Alana and Scott eating leftover cake. Jenny looked around the room, could see the Baxters having a party in a year's time. Jenny wouldn't have any such gathering, but life didn't stop because someone died. Jenny's world was on hold, even with her baby turning somersaults within her. She set Chelsea's hand on her belly and the toddler laughed.

"Baby," Chelsea said. "Mama's baby."

All stood close, most with faces of sorrow, a few in resignation, as how Jenny felt. To Chelsea, Alvin had disappeared.

"Mama's baby and Daddy's too." Sam placed his hand on Chelsea's, moving her fingers as the baby turned. "Your daddy's baby Chelse."

"Daddy?" she asked, pointing to Sam.

For a moment there was silence. Chelsea smiled, then leaned back in Jenny's arms.

"That's Sammy." Tommie hoisted the wiggly girl. "Sammy's not your daddy, Alvin's your daddy."

"Sammy?" Chelsea's blue eyes shined.

"Sammy," Jenny agreed, finding an ache in eyes belonging to that name.

Chapter 15

On the Fourth of July only the Smith and Cassel siblings went to Arkendale Park. Tommie was too drunk, nearly unconscious by the time fireworks crackled. Jacob had helped put him to bed, Rae unable to manage. Usually Max lent a hand, but he was with the rest at the park, and wouldn't be home until late. As Jacob and Debbie left, Rae shrugged, all relieved Jenny and Sam weren't there.

That duo watched the explosions from their front porch, Jenny wrapped in a blanket. She suffered from a small cold, what had kept them from the Smith farm. That had been her excuse, but Sam had discouraged their attendance. Tommie's drinking wasn't an all-day affair; instead he waited until after dinner. Sober all day once the hangover had faded, but every night Tommie needed a six-pack, sometimes a few more. Sam had tried to reason with him, tried to reckon how a man so loved could have been taken, leaving such desolation.

Sam saw it on Tommie, and on Jenny too. He was now _Sammy_ to Chelsea, but occasionally _Daddy_ slipped. Sam corrected her every time, his heart aching. Chelsea hadn't picked up _uncle_ as all the rest used. She preferred _Sammy_ and even Jenny had called him that a few times, just as he called her _Jenny Cope_. No one gave much thought to what sat behind those terms.

The bright lights were sporadic, Sam's first Fourth at home since he was in college. He knew the usual routine, but attending the annual picnic hadn't been broached by the adults. Nor was an August barbecue in the works. Fred Hooper had approached Sam last week, asking how the wedding was, and if Tommie's usual shindig was on for next month. Sam dismissed Fred's first query, answering the latter with an emphatic _no_. Right after the wedding Tommie announced that was the only party for the summer and no one had questioned him. It seemed inappropriate, Alvin not gone six months. Maybe next year, Sam had thought, watching Fred's pleased and haughty swagger.

Sam had also been stopped by Robert Tucker, who was concerned about Jenny. Robert had asked if he could come by, said he needed to talk to her. Sam recalled the bad blood between Alvin and Robert, but didn't know why it had been swept aside. Robert had dropped by for a short visit a few days back. Since his chat, Jenny had seemed somewhat eased.

Yet this holiday meant a lot to her, and Sam had seen her crying on and off all day. Tommie had filled him in, the first public outing of Alvin and Jenny as a couple. Sam had learned a lot from Tommie, usually once Tommie was drunk. Every few nights Sam required some space and after Jenny was asleep a drive to the Smiths took less than a minute. Tommie needed an ear and Sam was thankful for the unseasonably dry weather, thunderstorms far and few between. Sam only visited Tommie on clear nights, the men talking until Tommie was nearly unconscious. On those evenings Max earned a breather; Sam put Tommie to bed.

But before Tommie drank himself into oblivion, he spoke about Alvin and Jenny, how Sam garnered what this day meant to her and the significance of the barbecue, when the couple finally slept together. That evening Sam had watched them apart and together, "Visions" ringing in his head, a song he now never heard Jenny play. She still loved Elton John and Joni Mitchell, but her Stevie Wonder records only gathered dust.

Another reason the barbecue was toast; Tommie couldn't do that to her. He wouldn't hurt her deliberately and while his drinking wasn't helpful, she had only threatened Jacob. Then Tommie had laughed, chugging another cold one. It became one more can to crush under Tommie's boot, but they piled as by then Tommie was completely blotto.

Yet, he spoke of Alvin and Jenny until no more words slipped from his brain. Sam learned how Alvin had stopped Jenny from going to Portland; she had wanted to flee, but Alvin told her he loved her. Tommie knew this was hard for Sam to hear, but it was the truth. The truth, Tommie repeated, was that Alvin had loved Jenny probably from the first time he saw her and she hadn't been far behind. Alvin had wanted a child from their first night together, again Jenny coming round after time. Last summer's short separation was an anomaly, one small moment they had drifted. Then Tommie looked right at Sam; Tommie knew Sam loved Jenny from that Easter dinner. How Alvin realized Sam's feelings, Tommie had no idea, but now Alvin was gone. He was dead and Sam and Jenny, well...

Tommie grinned, nearly falling off his hay bale. Sam supported him as Tommie began to weave. Just be patient Sammy, Tommie had chuckled. That dumb bastard knew a helluva lot more than we _ever_ gave him credit for.

Sam recalled Tommie's aching voice as one last light popped in the sky. Jenny looked up and Sam found tears on her face. He had no idea what she felt, not about that night or about him. She missed Alvin, longed for her baby. She resisted Tommie's drunkenness, but had accepted Chelsea forgetting her father. When Jenny stood, wishing him goodnight, Sam wanted to reach into her and take all that pained. Then he gazed to the sky. Stars shone as on that New Year's Eve when he stood with Tommie, only wanting to erase his own agony. Always someone in need, Sam thought, going inside for the night.

At the end of July, Jenny was five months along, caring for her daughter, making blankets for the coming baby, or walking to the Smith farm. She still chose not to drive, preferring to meander with Chelsea, either hand in hand or using the stroller. Sometimes Chelsea would push her baby doll, otherwise Jenny ambled along a lane which had led her to Alvin, gazing at the blue sky, the green grass, the small fringes of white edging the horizon. Chelsea loved talking to Tommie's cows and Jenny would step to the fence. Picking up her daughter, Jenny might flinch, the baby protesting the extra weight. Chelsea laughed at her coming sibling and Jenny was glad Chelsea only knew joy.

A toddler was unaware, but every time Jenny chatted with Rae, dark undercurrents swirled. Rae was utterly exhausted while Alana pretended nothing was wrong. If Max wasn't working on their farm, he was at Jenny's, giving Steve and Sam a hand. Max and Liz were apart; Jenny heard from Lana that the couple had decided to split up. Liz had a job in town; they were going to be seniors that fall and Liz was considering Eugene for college. Max felt obliged to stay home if for no other reason than his mother needed someone to get Tommie into bed at night. That Rae actually spoke those words made Jenny wince. Tommie needed an ultimatum.

As July turned into August, Jenny had a doctor's appointment, where Dr. Fisher asked if she would have any assistance during the delivery.

Sam shook his head as Jenny giggled. "I hadn't considered it."

"Well, November's a ways off, but it would be good to start thinking about that."

On their way home they stopped to collect Chelsea, the toddler in Alana's care. Tommie and Rae sat in the kitchen with Steve and Max, a family normal on the surface. All summer Lexi had worked in town. Even with her tuition paid by Jenny, Lexi hadn't wanted to loaf, the shock of her father's worsening condition pushing her from the house. If she wasn't working, she was at Ricky's.

Chelsea napped on the couch and Jenny joined the family, Steve offering his chair. Sam stood near the sink as coffee was poured, water too. Jenny noticed Tommie had lost weight; as they enjoyed cookies, he declined.

Rae dipped one into her mug. "So everything's okay, right?"

"Yeah, but I have a question. Dr. Fisher asked me and I guess I hadn't thought about it."

"What?" Rae asked, her mouth full.

"I need a birth coach."

Alana, Max, and Steve stared at the floor, Rae and Tommie left dumbstruck.

Sam smiled. "I told her not to look at me."

Steve moved to the back door. "I'll leave this to you adults."

"Me too," Max added, following his brother.

Alana was behind him, the siblings giving Jenny small grins. "Chickens," she called as all three made their escape.

Chelsea stirred and Sam left to retrieve her as Jenny glanced at Rae. "So, whatdya think? You ever see a baby born that wasn't your own?"

"Good grief, are you serious?" Rae's face showed wonder, then small embarrassment. "You are, aren't you? Jenny, good lord. I uh, well, sure." She smiled. "What the hell?"

Jenny nodded, then reached for Tommie's hand. "How about it? Goodness knows you've been there for how many of your animals."

Tommie took a long drink of water as Sam returned. Jenny caught his eyes, then her daughter's, who called for her.

"Chelsea, whatdya think, Uncle Tommie with Mommy when I have your little brother?"

Jenny had begun referring to her baby as a boy, resisting the teasing from family. She was so certain she even called the baby William when it was only the three of them. She, Chelsea, and Sam knew the baby's name, but Jenny hadn't been that bold with others.

Tommie said nothing, Rae standing slowly. Chelsea laughed, then looked at their solemn faces. "Baby Will?"

Tommie shook and Jenny reached for him. "Yeah, Baby Will, who's gonna need people there to make sure I stay calm. Or at least not screaming my head off like when I had you."

She kissed her daughter, who began chanting _Baby Will_. Tommie leaned against Jenny and she kissed him too. "Tommie, please? I know you saw Lana come into this world, so you can't tell me it's that. I also know he'd want you there, you and Rae, and someone else who'll remain nameless."

Jenny's smile went to Sam, a gentle look that didn't push.

"Your turn again farmer," Sam chuckled.

Tommie said nothing, but nodded. Rae gave him a kiss, then joined Sam, watching as Tommie wept in silence, Chelsea's laughter the only sound.

By late August, Tommie drank no more than four beers a night Thursday through Saturday. On Sunday and Mondays he drank water, Tuesday and Wednesdays a couple of brews right after dinner. The Smith kids welcomed the change and evenings were spent either at their house or at Jenny's. Alvin's farm was now referred to as Jenny's house, easier words for all.

Jenny planned an impromptu dinner that could be deemed a party, but her term of pot luck went down more readily. The Baxters were bringing some of their visiting grandchildren and Jenny had asked Robert Tucker to attend. Sam was present for that invite, wondering if he would actually show. One rainy afternoon when Chelsea was sleeping, Sam approached Jenny, hoping to clear a mystery.

She was crocheting, primary red, blue, and yellow yarns blending into a large throw the same size as Chelsea's purple, orange, and green blanket. As Sam sat, asking his question, Jenny smiled. "Sam, Robert and Alvin had more in common than anyone thought, on some things."

He leaned forward on the big chair as she had moved to the couch, the blanket too large for her in the rocker. "Jenny, Robert and Jasper were assholes. What in the world did Alvin have in common with Tucker and Wilkins?"

"Sam, you ever think about the life Robert's led?"

He didn't look at her face, hypnotized by rapid fingers. "What? He lives with his parents, doesn't have a real life."

"He's gonna plant roses here this fall, did I tell you that? Says he wants to put in forty-one bushes along the drive, then to the left of the house, on that flat part, near the garden. I told him that was fine and he could pick the colors."

Sam knew the significance of the number; Alvin's age. "Yeah, I heard something about that from Steve."

Setting down her work, Jenny stared at Sam. "Robert's gay. He picked on Alvin all those years to hide his own life and when I told Alvin, he decided to talk to him. That's how they set things aside. God knows my life's no golden ticket, everybody's got some monkey, nothing that means anything except that here in this hick town, god, in most places, he has to live with his whole being tied behind his back. Personally I think he should move to San Francisco. At least there he'd have some freedom to live as he wants."

Sam didn't move, feeling stupid and enlightened all at once. Again, Alvin was smarter than anyone thought, and Sam stood, looking out the window. Rain pelted the ground, but it had come without fanfare or announcement as had Alvin's acceptance of Robert Tucker's sexuality. Sam gazed to Jenny. She had picked up her work, tying a red string to yellow.

"How'd you find out?" he asked.

"I could tell. Sam, it's something he's been hiding his whole life. Just keep it to yourself."

Her voice was gentle but firm. Then Jenny found his eyes. Hers were teary and Sam sat next to her, sensing a dam would burst.

"That's why he wants to plant the roses. Said it's the least he could do for me and the kids. He'll start putting them in around October, hopes to get it all done by the time the baby comes." Jenny wiped her eyes, then caught her breath. "He never hated Alvin, just never knew how to deal with his own feelings, and it was easier..."

"Honey, I understand. My God!"

She nodded. "No one here knows. Can you imagine if they did?"

Sam sighed; he had no quarrel with homosexuality and Alvin and Jenny had embraced Robert despite his previous cruelty. Sam squeezed her hands. "If Steve says anything, I'll just tell him it's Robert's way of making amends."

"That's what I was gonna say, all he or anyone else needs to know."

Rae visited if Jenny wasn't at the Smith's and by the pot luck, a small peace had descended. Jenny wasn't sure if it was her baby, now noticeable, or just Tommie having pulled up the brakes. Maybe it was the lack of thunderstorms, a few which brought her to a hush that Sam knew as temporary. She had told him everything, from the first time she was raped to leaving New Mexico on the arm of Sylvia Baxter. Except for the most private moments with Alvin, Sam knew all of Jenny's life, and he had shared some, mostly about Tracy, little concerning their daughter. Jenny knew her name, Lillian Ellen, that she was born at six months' gestation, and had died in her father's arms, Jacob at Sam's side.

By the pot luck Jenny was six months' along and feeling it all over. Her back, bladder, and feet bore the brunt, and she blamed it all on her son. There was no proof, but Jenny was sure it would be a boy, and the name, William Alvin, was known to all. Chelsea pointed to her mother's burgeoning belly, saying _Will_ in a loud, clear voice. Then she ran away giggling until caught by someone's loving arms.

Those arms would then find Jenny, holding her and those children close. Usually it was Sam but sometimes Sylvia or Keith, sometimes Rae. On occasion it was Jacob or Debbie, but the night of the pot luck Tommie came to Jenny's side. He had been far from her since the earliest days of this pregnancy, since Alvin's death. That night, a sober Tommie Smith reclaimed a place others had filled, Jenny in grateful need of his presence.

It gave Sam a breather and he thanked Tommie on the sly. Tommie refrained from drinking, instead observing the small gathering on the front lawn, Robert and Steve in deep conversation over the placement of roses. That took Tommie back to earlier days when Robert and Jasper had caused Alvin endless grief. Yet, Jenny had brokered a peace; as Robert made his way to the porch, Tommie saw in his eyes something he didn't understand. Robert said goodnight to Jenny, Sam too, then took his leave, not bothering anyone else.

Jenny found Tommie, taking a chair beside him. "God, if I'm not eating, I'm peeing. This kid's gonna be ten pounds if he's anything."

"Shall we just knock you out, call it good?" Tommie smiled.

She laughed. "We'll see. If he's not here after nine hours, you do what you like."

Tommie reached for her knee with his good hand. "You'll be fine."

"With you there, we will."

People ate and drank, but didn't dance. Max and Liz were apart, but Alana and Scott acted like cousins. Chelsea was nearly asleep in Sylvia's arms as she and Rae chatted quietly, Jacob, Debbie, and Keith not far. Lexi and Marcy laughed, their other halves close. Tommie would have never guessed his wife had anything to say to Sylvia Baxter, but Rae was enthralled. As Sylvia's granddaughters raced around the house, Alana and Scott caught up, starting a game of hide and seek, innocent fun on an evening warm and pleasant. All that was missing was...

Tommie couldn't think of that name and stay sober. This was Jenny's place now, Jenny, Chelsea, and a baby whose name wasn't too close. Tommie had never considered Will or William when thinking of... Tommie inhaled, gripping Jenny's hand.

"Tommie?"

"You up for a walk?"

"Sure."

They stood, giving notice to their destination, the trees. Tommie's back field sported cow pies, but here an orchard carried heavy branches. The biggest yield ever, Steve bragged, enough rain falling that the crop would be quadruple what had come in the best season. Alvin's best harvest was the tip of the iceberg compared to what Steve and Sam had nurtured.

Tommie's gait wasn't hurried and Jenny was far from her former speed, not only due to the baby. Both were burdened with this loss, Jenny by her children and intimacy with the deceased, Tommie by the years with one man like a brother. Alone with Jenny, Tommie wept.

He never cried openly for Alvin, not even with Rae. She cried, often too, especially since Jenny asked them to be with her for the birth. Rae had taken that deeply, admitting to Tommie that while she hadn't thought to ask, it was the only place she would want to be on that day. Mid-November was the due date and Rae couldn't dream of standing in the lobby like last time. Others would, but not Rae Smith. In her copious but hushed wailings, she let go of Alvin, and maybe, in small pieces, was beginning to relinquish her lost baby.

That was an odd bit for which Tommie was glad. If anything good could come from such a horrible thing, at least Rae was starting to mourn their child. Tommie didn't say anything about that to Jenny, too close to the bone, but Alvin was in his head, and he began to ramble.

"I miss him every morning. Sometimes I slept past nine, you know, maybe it was on purpose, why I was drinking so much. Hell, I dunno, but every single morning he'd call or I would, just what we did and I can't even remember why. I'd see him every other day. Maybe it was after Betsy died, just checking on him."

Jenny's hand sat in his right, that useless limb tucked between her fingers. "He loved chatting with you. Once that was done, the rest of his day fell into place."

Tommie nodded, aching for a beer, every step into the orchard another brutal slap of who wasn't there. How many times had he found Alvin walking through these trees, looking at apples, telling how good that year's harvest would be.

Bonnie's sleight of hand didn't trouble Tommie; she was a mean, callous woman married to a pompous bore. Everyone wondered how Harold had been able to retire so early, now it was known. Rumors had spread and no one in Jenny's sphere had tried to discount them. Tommie assumed the Carmines had also made good investments and while they now lacked an income, their overall lifestyle wouldn't be altered. Yet, he had seen some of the looks Harold was offered alongside snubs from unlikely sources. Tommie had half expected them at Steve's wedding, Gabe Lewis' father an old friend of the Carmines. Yet, Bonnie and Harold hadn't been invited to Arkendale's biggest bash in years.

Tommie caught Jenny's face, saw her hands on her belly. Only one wedding that year, then Alvin's fading voice wafted in Tommie's head. Words had been mumbled as Alvin's heart gave out, words Tommie had to tell her, but just couldn't. Alvin hadn't made Tommie promise, he didn't need too. He had whispered a few sentences, one in particular that Tommie needed to share with Jenny, but not that day. If he did, he might not be able to stand with her when she had that baby.

The baby; Alvin had known of that and of how Sam felt, and Tommie so wished Alvin hadn't gone up that tree! Alvin should be there next to Tommie, not Jenny. She should be relaxing with the knowledge she was pregnant by a man she loved, who loved her. A man Tommie had loved, but that was more difficult to acknowledge. Men didn't just go around telling each other that, yet, Alvin had, his last words to Tommie. Tommie stopped; he could share that much with her.

"Honey, I loved him, you know, I really did. I loved him, but I never told him. I never did, but it was the last thing he said to me in the ambulance."

Tommie paused, saw her tears. She only nodded.

"He said he loved me, Christ, I just about lost it. His voice wasn't more than a whisper, all he could get out. He loved me, then, then, oh Jesus!"

"Tommie what, tell me please!"

He shook, taking her in his arms. "Then he stopped breathing. He couldn't move and I could tell that was it. He turned blue and all I could hear was those words."

Jenny trembled as Tommie gripped her. If he let go, both would fall right to the ground.

"All I could hear," Tommie inhaled, "was him telling me he loved me."

Chapter 16

As Robert, Steve, and Sam planted roses, Jenny's steps were halting, her enormous abdomen protruding in a manner she didn't recall from when carrying Chelsea. She couldn't pick up her daughter, could barely bend over. Walks to the Smiths were now one way, Jenny getting a ride home with Rae or Tommie, who was driving Alvin's truck. His old Ford sat in the yard; Rae said she was going to fill the back with dirt and plant some roses of her own.

Jenny had offered to buy Tommie a new vehicle, but he was happy to tool around in Alvin's, said he would use Betsy's Buick when Alvin's truck died. Those words came with a laugh, neither Jenny nor Tommie bothered. Others had been hushed, but between those siblings of sorts, a bond had resurfaced, one Jenny clung to as her due date approached.

She wasn't afraid of the birth, looked forward to it. She was tired of being huge, of feeling exhausted and aching, always having to be near a bathroom. She wanted to snuggle her baby, but there was something else, and noting her unease, Tommie came out and asked. "Honey, what is it?"

They were sitting in Tommie's porch swing on Halloween night, Chelsea dressed as a clown. Rae had made a blue and red outfit with a yellow hat, primary colors Jenny requested, something the baby could wear in a few years. Jenny still insisted she carried a boy and as Tommie's query reached her ears, she sighed.

"Oh, just mommy nerves I guess." She looked at him, then smiled, watching Chelsea perched on Sam's shoulders. He had taken her to town, where she trick or treated at the Cassels, Baxters, and Steve and Marcy's apartment. Having turned two in September, Chelsea strung three and four words together, was inquisitive and happy. Her blue eyes were so reminiscent of Alvin's, but no one commented on the striking resemblance, her laugh and smile those of a man Chelsea didn't remember.

"Hmmm, mommy nerves," Tommie smiled.

As Sam twirled Chelsea over his head, Jenny squeezed Tommie's hand. "He never talks about his daughter."

"It was a long time ago."

"I know, why I didn't push him to be with me in the labor room. I mean, I suppose I could've, but that would've been, oh, too much." Jenny stood, stretching her back. "God I am so sick of being pregnant!"

Tommie's chuckle rang through the yard. "Honey, just a few more weeks."

She laughed, seeing Sam and Chelsea come their way. "I know, thank god. Oh, I got a phone call today, I meant to tell you. Things just slip from my head, no brain cells left." Jenny sat again as Chelsea tried to climb into her lap. "You go to Uncle Tommie. Mommy's got no room left baby."

"Baby," Chelsea pointed. "Baby come out?"

Jenny laughed. "He better."

Sam pulled up a chair. "You wanna go soon?"

Jenny nodded. "Yeah. What was I saying?"

Both men smiled as Rae joined them. "What?" she asked.

"Oh Jenny just can't remember anything," Tommie grinned.

"This's so horrible. I feel like an idiot. Oh, I know. Lorraine called me this morning, out of the blue. Said she was coming this way on Friday, wanted to talk to me. Isn't that weird?" Lorraine lived across the Willamette National Forest, the drive between Bend and Arkendale over two hours.

Chelsea rested in Tommie's arms, playing with his bad hand as he cuddled her in his left. Soon she was nearly asleep.

"She say why?" Rae asked.

"No, but her voice, god, she's so nothing like Alvin."

"Daddy," Chelsea murmured.

All looked at her, tucked into Tommie's side, eyes half closed. Jenny caressed Chelsea's face, then took the hat from her head. Blonde hair stopped at Chelsea's jaw; Jenny had trimmed it a few weeks back, Chelsea's first haircut.

"Yeah baby, your daddy. Alvin's your daddy, Will's too." Jenny looked up, saw streaks on all faces. "Maybe she will remember."

"Daddy and Sammy," Chelsea whispered. "Love my Sammy."

"I love you too Chelse," Sam answered as Jenny wiped tears.

When Lorraine Harris Stapleton arrived on the third of November, Jenny's baby was two weeks away. She had gone seven days late with Chelsea, but this child had dropped, mild contractions felt daily. Lexi hoped Jenny would go a few extra days so she could be there, home for Thanksgiving. Everyone else desired Will's arrival.

Reaching the barn, Sam checked the hens, not eager to chat with Lorraine. Before Alvin's funeral, Sam hadn't seen her since he was a kid. Her appearance had changed, blonde hair where before she'd been brunette. She had aged, but didn't look like Betsy. Maybe like their father, Sam not recalling Alfred's face. Lorraine must take after Alfred Harris, for she didn't look a thing like the rest of them.

Alvin and his brothers all had large eyes, Alvin the only one with blue, and he was taller than Adam and Randy. Sam was closer in age to those siblings, had been horrified by Adam's death, the only man Sam knew personally to have been killed in Vietnam. All of Sam's friends had survived, some better than others; Grant Schumacher's recovery was ongoing, the war etching memories similar to Sam's deathly recollections. As Jenny got bigger, Sam just wanted that baby born, wishing to hold a full-term, healthy infant. He had been tempted to stand with her, but more appropriate were Rae and Tommie, better for everyone.

Sam approached the back door, three eggs in his hands. Stepping inside, he found Jenny looking ashen, Lorraine preparing to leave. She hadn't changed since March, still blonde and haggard, but with a secret released. Lorraine's eyes were empty, knowledge now weighing on Jenny's shoulders.

"I was just going." Lorraine didn't reach for Sam's hand. "I'll see myself out."

She said nothing more to Jenny, who gripped herself. Sam didn't follow Lorraine, setting the eggs on the counter, going to Jenny's side. He didn't see Chelsea, assumed she was asleep. He did hear a car start, then drive away.

"Honey, what?" Sam's voice carried his concern.

"Nothing." Jenny dabbed at her eyes. "She had nothing to say."

She stood, slowly walking from the kitchen toward the couch. Sam put away the eggs, washed his hands, then joined her.

"Honey, that's bull. What'n the hell'd she want?"

Sam assumed it was the estate. Was Lorraine considering legal action? His mind raced, but Jenny sat still.

"Honey listen, if you don't wanna say, that's fine, but Christ, don't tell me she came all this way for no reason." He stroked Jenny's face, wanted to kiss her cheek, but refrained.

Her eyes were lifeless. "Sam, there's, uh, more to things, I mean..." Then she paused.

"Was she here about money?"

"No, not really," Jenny clucked. "I mean, maybe she wanted to see if I was gonna offer her anything." Jenny shook her head. "Nothing for that..."

She didn't continue, leaning against him. The baby moved, twisting Sam's heart. He resisted from placing his hands on Jenny, not wanting to cause himself more agony. As each day passed, Sam longed for her to tell him it was time for Will to make his appearance. Sam thought of the baby as Will Harris, Will and Chelsea Harris, not Sammy's son and daughter.

"Sam, there's things I haven't said to you or Tommie. Just stuff that was Alvin's business. That's why she was here."

Her voice was clear; Sam and Tommie were the only ones to whom she had bared her soul, but this was beyond them. Sam didn't press, his own secrets still concealed.

She hadn't asked him about Lillian and he would leave Lorraine's visit alone. Jenny remained in his arms, then Sam set one hand on her belly, finding small movements, no room for Will to do much more. Jenny didn't cry and they stayed there until Chelsea woke from her nap.

Two weeks later on Saturday night, Jenny rested on the couch. Her contractions were regular and she was certain the baby wouldn't be late. Lexi had called that morning, disappointed with the news. Jenny had laughed, telling Lexi she'd be home soon enough, but that the baby would probably beat her.

It was late, after ten, but sleep was hard for Jenny to find, and when she did, dreams of Alvin filled her head. As in her previous dream, he wasn't slow but close to her, and Jenny often awoke in tears, wishing for his actual presence until she fell asleep again.

Sam had given Chelsea her bath, then laid her on the twin mattress that rested on the floor of the nursery. Chelsea liked her big girl bed, the crib waiting for Will. Jenny was glad she had introduced the idea of a sibling so early; bottles were gone and Chelsea even used the potty half the time, diapers also for the baby. The baby was coming, Jenny had said to her daughter, a little baby, not like big girl Chelsea.

Yet Jenny kept many thoughts to herself. She couldn't bear sharing her dreams, or the notion of holding her newborn, feeling him nurse, caressing his face, finally witnessing what she and Alvin had conceived. Their last baby, of which he was aware, but was only for her to love.

Sam approached and Jenny wondered the time. Chelsea had been in her room for well over an hour. Time seemed to have stopped, or was moving so slowly; Jenny realized it was her condition. The state in which she dwelled was of stop-motion living; frame by frame she saw how her life might be had Alvin not died. Instead of Sam stepping her way, it would be her husband. Alvin would smile at her, sit beside her, kiss her face. He would tell her he loved her, touching their baby. Then he would help her off the sofa, get her up the stairs, and take her to bed. She had been celibate for nearly nine months, missed his body, his scent, wished for her dreams to be real. Jenny ached for Alvin's presence, where she could touch him, feel him, love him.

She began to cry, breaking into sobs. Sam knelt near her, wiping her face. "Jenny Cope, oh honey, it's okay, it's really gonna be okay."

"S-Sam, oh Christ, why is he gone?"

Jenny felt awful. Sam didn't even possess what she held within her, what slept upstairs; offspring. Sam had nothing of Tracy to treasure and Jenny wept for him as well as herself.

He sat her up, joining her on the couch. She fell into his arms, needing someone to hold her the way Alvin had when she was pregnant with her daughter. _Her_ daughter, not their daughter, for he was dead. Alvin, the father of her children, was dead.

"Honey, I don't know why he's gone. I wish I had answers for you. Oh Jenny, what I'd give baby, what I'd give."

Jenny pulled away, finding a face so pained. "Sam, I'm sorry, god, you don't need this." She tried to stand, but a contraction hit. "Shit!"

"Just breathe Jenny, it's okay."

The bands of her uterus squeezed, a harder sensation than previous. "Sam, I think maybe tomorrow." She looked at him. "I think that was for real."

He smiled. "It's about time."

"Yeah," she laughed weakly. "Christ, I can't do this anymore."

Her body stilled, Jenny gazed around the room; a fire glowed, her bag waited by the door. It had been packed a week ago, after Lorraine's visit. That had stirred Jenny's thoughts, feelings she now fought. This baby would be fine, no two ways about it.

Sam stood for the green and gray throw she had made for Alvin. Sam knew that story, their other blanket on Jenny's bed. She lay down and he set it over her. "Listen, I'll just sleep in the chair. If your water breaks I won't hear you from up there."

She laughed. "God, if that happens, I'll drench the couch."

"Just try to sleep. We'll see how you are in the morning."

Jenny nodded, pulling the blanket to her ears. She had washed it many times since Alvin's death, but she inhaled as if she might sense him. All she smelled was her daughter and Sam. Jenny fell asleep to that notion, her body taking one last night's rest for two.

At noon the next day, Lexi Smith sat next to her sister in the hospital lobby, having driven from Eugene when Alana called. Jenny's labor had started late last night, but didn't hit with force until seven that Sunday morning, the nineteenth of November, all the family waiting with baited breath.

There had been news of a mass suicide in South America, something Sam caught on the radio while fixing Jenny's breakfast. He hadn't mentioned it to her, but once people began filing in, it was all they could talk about, a cult based in San Francisco, relocated to a jungle in Guyana. Then Sam heard the rest from a nurse on duty; a congressman investigating the group had been ambushed at a Guyana airstrip by cult members. The last Sam had heard over four hundred people, including children, were dead, possibly poisoned.

He mentioned it to Jacob, who had seen it on TV that morning, far from their safe, sheltered world in western Oregon. That day a baby was due, and Sam stood, shifting from foot to foot. He hadn't been here for Chelsea's birth and while he wouldn't join Tommie and Rae, he couldn't leave until he knew. It was difficult to be there, for many reasons, but Sam accepted his place with the rest, waiting for news.

Not of dead bodies in Guyana, but of one live infant, breathing normally, not injured. Sam couldn't budge his thoughts, moving from this day in 1978 to so many years back, over a dozen, standing with his brother, waiting for his daughter to die. Tracy was already gone, Lillian was close, yet now Sam saw happy faces, tears too, this birth carrying so much joy, but still tainted. He spied Chelsea in Alana's care, that little girl chatty. Nothing was wrong with her, not a single thing.

He thought about Jenny's words, Lorraine's visit still not settled. Jenny hadn't said anything about it that morning, only trying to breathe as pain increased. He had driven her to the Smiths, where Chelsea was dropped off, then he, Tommie, and Rae drove their vehicles to Arkendale General, where Jenny was admitted under her own name. Sam had stayed in the background, hearing snippets about Jim Jones and Peoples Temple. But those details were crowded out by Jenny's heavy sighs and Lillian's halting breaths.

People living, dying, all coalescing together. Nothing stopped in this life, every day followed by another. How Sam had kept going, taking each day as it came. Now he was here, again awaiting a baby, one he felt could be his. He had been with Jenny nearly every day, had learned from Alvin. He and Tommie had been the first to know and having lived with Jenny for months, Sam felt this was his child. That was why he couldn't be there, unable to witness another birth.

He knew it would probably be fine, it had to be. Lillian hadn't been given a chance, but William Alvin Harris had to be okay. Too many were counting on it and while hundreds were dead in a jungle, there in Arkendale, Oregon, one small baby had to be all right.

Sam hadn't been paying attention, but noticed everyone staring toward the double doors. "What?" he asked Debbie.

"The nurse just said she's been pushing for ten minutes. It could be any time."

Debbie's face showed relief and joy, sensations Sam allowed to the edge. Until he saw that baby with his own eyes, he wouldn't believe it. Did family members feel the same in San Francisco, hearing of the possible tragedy but not wanting to consider? Sam was probably the only one with this mixture running through his head, mayhem and chaos swirling with the innocence of new life. He couldn't help it; his experiences were so different from the rest. He hadn't waged war in a jungle, but Tracy and her father had died so brutally. Lillian hadn't even heard him call her name, had no idea what was happening. Sam had whispered that he loved her, told her where she was going, but his aching voice fell on ears unable to accept; there had been no way for Lillian to note her father's words or his love, nothing within her to hold it.

Debbie grasped his hand, then kissed his cheek. "It'll be okay, they'll be fine."

"I know," he choked.

Jacob looked his way and Sam winced. Only those two knew his anxieties. As the double doors opened, a nurse in scrubs emerged, her smile wide.

"It's a boy, born at twelve thirteen. He's nine pounds even, healthy, loud, and Mama's pretty happy."

Sam was the first to move. "Jenny's okay, the baby too?"

"They're fine, mother and son are just fine."

Taking a breath, Sam glanced to his brother, then gripped Debbie. As the crowd fell into each other, Sam released his sister-in-law, then walked down the hall.

It was after eight and Jenny laid in the quiet of her room, a son at her side. People had been close all day, everybody having held William Alvin Harris, all but Sam. Jenny didn't ask for him, but Rae and Debbie told her he had stayed until the news came. Jenny didn't press, too absorbed in her son, one having emerged with Tommie at her side, Rae involved with the delivery. She had cut the cord, but Tommie hadn't left Jenny, urging her to breathe, wait, then push, all as Alvin had done. Tommie had wiped her face, and after she'd nursed Will, Tommie held that little boy, blonde with large blue eyes. Then Rae cradled the newborn, tears pouring, but Tommie stayed dry-eyed and sober all day long.

Now Jenny noted tiny ears, nails needing a trim. Will would be circumcised tomorrow and they would go home on Tuesday. Jenny didn't require a long stay, surprised at how much easier labor had progressed. Her body had been ready, expelling Will in ten minutes. Hard, precise contractions, then a son emerged. Jenny Cope had a son.

Alvin too, but only now did she truly miss him. The day had been full of family, also the inescapable information of a huge death toll in South America, some cult having killed themselves. The story was all over the evening news and Jenny had watched, fascinated yet repelled. Another example of California crackpots, Rae had huffed, taking Jenny's mind from Alvin, and the finality of her baby. Jenny finally had her baby, the last one.

Chelsea had been pleased, sitting with her mother, holding her brother. She had asked for Sammy, but he was nowhere to be seen. When Jenny told Chelsea she would sleep in Alana's room that night, Chelsea forget all about Sam. Jenny hadn't, those missing men not far from her heart. Will took most of the space, but Jenny deeply felt Alvin and Sam's absences, although she said nothing.

She had accepted why Sam stayed away when Chelsea was small and she understood his actions now. Maybe he would move out once she was home. He hadn't said anything about it, but perhaps it was too real. Hearing small noises, Jenny picked up her baby, setting him to her breast. As he nursed, she coveted that tug, again her body a source of nourishment.

The door cracked open and she saw a face, bearded and grinning. "Oh hey you," she called as Sam stepped in the room.

He was well wrapped, taking off his hat, but not his coat. A scarf wound its way around his neck and he loosened it coming toward her. "Look at you two."

She smiled as he grabbed a chair. Sam scooted close, placing the hat on her side table.

"He just started. You can hold him when he's done."

"I'd love to." Sam stood, removed the coat and muffler, then washed his hands. He returned to his chair as Jenny adjusted Will's mouth, the baby reattaching with ease.

"How was it?" Sam asked.

"Easier than Chelsea," Jenny smiled. "He came right out, no trouble."

She didn't meet his gaze. She wanted to ask what he had done that day, but didn't speak.

"Well, I figured you'd have plenty of visitors. Been over at Jacob's, thought I'd stop by before I went home."

"I'm glad you did," Jenny said, finding his eyes.

Sam looked down. "Me too."

Will seemed finished and Jenny burped him, then handed the bundle Sam's way. He stared at Will's face, then kissed his forehead. "Oh my God, he's beautiful! Jenny, oh honey!"

"I know. Looks just like Alvin, like Chelsea." She couldn't hold back her words. "I can't believe how much I love him."

Jenny again found Sam's eyes, both with tears. "Yeah, me too."

He examined the infant's skull, special attention paid to Will's head. "I'll tell you my story if you tell me yours." Jenny hadn't planned to be so explicit, but in how Sam's mindful gray eyes took in a slightly pointed scalp, it was more than admiring a new baby. Sam noted Will differently than all previous.

"You say something?" Sam asked.

Jenny sat up, adjusting her robe. "He's okay. Everything's okay."

"Oh yeah, he's perfect. Just perfect." Sam kissed Will once more, then handed him back to his mother. "Listen, I'll let you get some rest. You'll be here till Tuesday, right?"

"Yeah." She set the baby against her chest, wishing Sam wouldn't leave.

He had already donned his coat, wrapping the muffler around his neck. "Just let me know if you want me to bring you home or if Tommie and Rae are doing it."

"I will."

Sam went to kiss her, then backed away. Jenny heard his garbled _goodnight_ as he reached the door.

As if Sam's truncated visit was ethereal, Jenny sighed, looking to his empty chair. Then she stared to the side table, his hat untouched. "You know," she told her son, "he'll be back. He's got a lot of hair, but it's cold outside." She smiled, kissing her baby. "He'll be back Will, just you watch."

One step out of the hospital, Sam felt the wind. His hat; he'd left it behind. He jammed hands in his coat pockets, looked to the starry sky, then turned back for the doors.

He walked down the hall, toward Jenny's room. Damn that hat. He never wore one, his bushy hair ordinarily enough. That night was colder than usual; was it the news from Guyana, more than just four hundred dead, maybe closer to a thousand? Was it his time at the farm ending? Or was it the brisk wind, brushing aside clouds, twinkling stars adorning the night; Sam wasn't sure, but opening Jenny's door, he felt to be crossing more than a threshold, a sense not painful, but new. Something new was coming Sam's way.

"Hey," he whispered, seeing her turned on her side, facing the other wall.

The bassinette was gone and Sam tiptoed to the side table. He would just get his hat, go home, sensing unfamiliar emotions. Maybe it was the baby healthy, no problems. Sam hadn't realized how much he'd worried until witnessing Will's normal features.

Grabbing the knit hat, he heard small sniffles. She was trying not to move, but her head jerked, long hair covering the pillow. Jenny hadn't cut her hair since March and it was well to the middle of her back.

"Honey, you okay?"

"Sam, can you stay a minute?"

"Sure." He pulled up the chair, placing the hat back on the side table.

She turned to him, her face teary, Will in her arms. "I told him you'd be back. Sam, I know it's hard, but he's okay. He's really okay."

"Yeah, I see he is," Sam mumbled.

They said nothing, their hands on the baby. The door opened and a nurse entered, pushing a bassinette. "Is he ready?"

"Yeah," Jenny said. "Bring him in when he's hungry."

"I will." The nurse set Will on his side, then looked at Sam. "Feel free to stay until she's asleep."

"Thanks."

The nurse smiled, then left the room.

"They all know," Jenny sniffed. "It really hasn't been bad until tonight. Now, oh god, now I just miss him!"

Sam leaned forward, grasping her hands. "Honey, I love you."

He spoke those words easily, but their impact was more than he had expected. "Oh, I love you too. God, why?" Jenny took a breath. "You know, I can't ask that, because Will's here and he's fine and that's just what I have. Will and Chelsea and, and..."

She sobbed, moving Sam to the edge of the bed. He held her, but her smaller body shook him. Jenny seemed fragile and shrunken. Sam gripped her and she clung to him.

"You want me to stay here tonight?"

"Oh god, would you?"

"Beats a cold house."

They smiled and Jenny wiped her face, turning to her side as Sam moved to the chair. He watched her try to settle, but more tears emerged.

Sam didn't move. The baby was fine, an issue he wouldn't have to battle. Now it would only be the mother and Sam wondered how long he could stay with them. Not that Jenny would kick him out, but there, close to her, all the ways he loved her returned, and Will topped the pile.

Jenny's cries increased and Sam eased to the edge of the bed. "Jenny, oh honey, it's okay."

"He was here, with me, all three nights when I had Chelsea," she wailed. "God Sam, I can't do this alone!"

He said nothing while kicking off his boots, then curling beside her. It wasn't requested, but so innate, and Jenny scooted against him. She mumbled something, but Sam didn't hear it clearly. All he knew was that place next to her, reminding how she had wound into him last summer in Tommie and Rae's bedroom. The same sense of purpose filled Sam's heart as he crooned that long version of her name, telling Jenny Cope it would be okay. And how much he loved her.

Chapter 17

On Thanksgiving Day all Jenny did was sit on Rae's couch and nurse her son. That would be all Jenny would remember doing, but with clarity she would recall the days after. Those days were consumed with her new baby, Tommie's drinking, Sam's wariness, and Robert Tucker. By Monday, the twenty-seventh of November, eight days after Will's birth, one of those men was preparing to leave Arkendale.

From the time Jenny brought her son home, all anyone could talk about other than William Alvin Harris was Jim Jones, a name synonymous with an evil Jenny equated with her father. She and Sam spoke of it, relating the messianic control Jones possessed over his followers to Jenny's dad, Tracy's too, men seeking power who thought nothing of those under them, using others to satisfy their own sick desires. Jenny had no illusions; her father had wielded his might over her, Jess, and Jane with scant regard to them as human beings, much less his own children. Jones seemed to possess similar inclinations. As news spilled from Guyana and San Francisco, it became apparent the leader of Peoples Temple wasn't the goodwill ambassador portrayed in the media. Instead a more sinister figure emerged. That children had been murdered brought bile to Jenny's throat. She clung to her babies, thankful for the family around her.

Over the weekend, female relatives descended upon the farm, and Jenny appreciated the extra hands. Will nursed well and the new mother ate and slept when she could. Chelsea had plenty of attention, but Tommie wasn't around, and Jenny asked Sam if Tommie was drinking again. She had seen empty beer cans left in his wake on Thanksgiving, he and Keith enjoying a couple, then Tommie downed another with Sam, a few more with Fred Hooper who'd had the audacity to appear. Those two were in the barn for over an hour, Fred with enough sense not to come inside.

Tommie hadn't stopped by all weekend and Sam had nodded to Jenny's question. Yet, Jacob was staying dry, Sam mentioned, not looking Jenny in the eye. He seemed leery of getting too close, having spent Sunday and Monday nights at the hospital, Jenny falling asleep with Sam beside her.

She pondered that when she wasn't thinking about her son, Tommie, or Jim Jones. Jenny didn't let her father linger after she and Sam had discussed it and she wondered if maybe Sam was feeling skittish due to that conversation. Maybe all he could think about was Lillian. Now with Will looking so familiar, but his own person, Jenny considered asking Sam what had happened to his baby girl.

Something had occurred; Sam cradled Will so gently, unabashedly kissing the baby's head, cooing to Will in adoration. Chelsea had Sam wrapped around her finger as she had her real father and Will was doing the same. Jenny wondered if Sam would leave now that she didn't need eagle eyes. Maybe he was trying to put distance between them, easing his departure. He had fulfilled Alvin's request to take care of her, what had emerged on Thanksgiving night. Tommie revealed what Alvin had made Sam promise right after he fell and now it made sense why Sam had moved home right after the funeral. Maybe now, with Will's birth, Sam might reconsider that job in Kansas City.

But Jenny had to wonder as he brought Will to her. On Sunday night, Lexi headed to Eugene, Jenny's house her last stop. Ricky Shelton hadn't lingered after Lexi's departure and with only the children and Sam, Jenny pondered who might be going next.

"What a set of lungs he's got," Sam smiled, placing the squawky baby in Jenny's hands.

She set Will to her left breast, thankful for his strong mouth. Her milk had come in on Thanksgiving and since then, Will's active gums were necessary. "A good pair of lungs and an even better jaw. Thank god or I'd need a breast pump."

Sam joined her, taking the far end of the sofa. "Was Chelsea like this?"

"I don't remember her being this piggish so early. Later on, but he's only a week old. My god, it's going too fast."

She would cherish this child's babyhood. Every day was a gift, what Jenny had realized since the previous Sunday. She would never again be a new mother and while that rested in the back of her head, in the forefront was this family, one she hadn't anticipated even a few weeks ago. Sam was a part of them, of her through these children. Chelsea had been given her bath that night by Lexi, but Sam had put Chelsea to bed. Sam looked after her in the early mornings while Jenny either rested or nursed, and Sam made sure that Chelsea napped. He took those tasks upon himself, Jenny never worrying. He was her family, here in this house, not as a lover, or a brother. Tommie was her brother but Jenny hadn't seen hide or hair of him since Thursday.

"Sam, tell me the truth. Is he drinking again?"

Sam's nod was rote. Jenny looked at her son, his eyelids fluttering, but he wasn't going anywhere. He would suck that breast clean, then give the other a run for its money, what Tommie might say if he was there.

"I need to speak to him," Jenny mumbled. Then she cleared her throat. "And you too. We need to talk."

Sam had been staring at the baby. He loved her son. He loved Chelsea too, but this infant had a hold on Sam Cassel, and Jenny felt it was time to see what he would tell her.

"Talk about what?" Sam said.

"Well first, I've been wanting to ask about your daughter. And well, your plans."

She noted the way each question hit him, both hard, yet in different places. Of all the fathers she had known in Arkendale, Alvin included, Jenny hadn't found one like Sam. Not only his childless status, but since she had learned of his baby, not lost to miscarriage but a premature birth, Jenny had watched love emerge, strong and unbreakable. She had witnessed it with Chelsea and it was unmistakable with Will. With this baby, Sam was besotted.

Suddenly Jenny hoped he wouldn't leave, he couldn't! What would Chelsea do without her Sammy? Substitute some consonants and Sam was Daddy, no question. All discouraged that word, but it was the truth, and even more so with Will. Sam had been near Jenny and this baby from day one, and while he hadn't witnessed the birth, in every other respect, Sam Cassel was Will's daddy, the one to hold him, change him, cuddle and love him. As he had done for the past nine months with Chelsea, now Sam was with Will, father to these children.

Jenny inhaled, fighting tears. Was _that_ what Alvin had wanted, someone to care for them long-term? She had no idea, had Alvin even known? Why had he asked? Unable to move, had he been aware of more? It was too large of an implication for Jenny that night, but she had to know what Sam felt, or if he even knew. Much sat on his bearded face, gray eyes wrestling with ages of time and feelings; Jenny wasn't sure if even Sam realized what he wanted.

"My plans?" he mumbled.

Will tugged at Jenny's breast and she stroked his head. Some blonde fluff, like his sister, so precious. He knew nothing of this farm, her past, his father's fall, only a warm body and voices familiar. Will knew Sam's voice, deep but laughing, thoughtful and giving. Sam had sacrificed moving to Missouri but now what would he do?

"Yeah, I mean, I know Alvin wanted you to take care of us." She gently revealed that small confidence. But it was what Tommie deserved, if he was going to start knocking back beers again.

She explained how she learned of that last request; at first Sam's eyes were panicked, then relieved. Then they were saddened at how Jenny knew. Sam admitted Tommie was hitting the sauce hard, but Sam wasn't sure why.

Jenny didn't poke at a small untruth, bigger questions she needed answered. "We've never talked about what comes next, seems all I wanted was to have this baby, then, well..." She smiled as Will completed the first course. After burping him, she set Will to the other breast, and he was silent.

"I only wanna do whatever you and the kids need. It's what he wanted."

Sam looked to the floor, but only for seconds, his eyes not straying from Will. Jenny laughed to herself; if able to nurse this child, Sam would probably snatch him from Jenny's grasp.

How much he must have loved his own daughter, she accepted. As she wasn't getting anything from him about what he wanted to do, she pushed the second issue. "I know he wanted you here with us. And I gotta wonder, was that because of what you lost or only for me and Chelsea?"

On some occasions Alvin was the most intelligent man Jenny had ever met. He'd possessed a deep knowledge, one having understood her, keeping her in Arkendale. One that knew Sam too, a few tears falling from his eyes.

He didn't bother to wipe them, leaning over, caressing Will's head. "Jenny, oh God. I dunno, I really don't."

He stood, walking to the front door and locking it. Then he waved goodnight. Without another word, Jenny was left with her baby, having no more idea to Sam's thoughts than when she first asked him.

On Monday morning, Jenny went about her routine, one not like before, that of a huge woman milling about. Now she had a baby, a two-year-old, and a man looking stumped. Not in the short term, but Sam's long range plans weren't ones of which he could say. Not because he didn't want to tell her; Sam simply had no clue what came next.

He took Chelsea to check the hens, then he called the Smiths. Now that nine o'clock chat was between Sam and Rae. Max and Alana were at school and Tommie was still in bed, Sam's tired sigh warning Jenny she would be having another talk with her brother. But without needing a birth coach, Jenny wasn't sure what might catch Tommie's attention.

She fed her son, drank some juice, then set her sleeping baby in the Moses basket waiting in the corner of the couch. Jenny gathered toys from the coffee table, then headed upstairs. Chelsea needed laundry done and while Jenny wasn't lifting anything heavier than her son, she amassed a heaving basket of clothes. Sam could take it down when he was off the phone.

Jenny considered all the things Sam did; according to Tommie, Alvin had told Sam to take care of Jenny, Chelsea, and the baby. Alvin never mentioned the farm by name, only his family. Jenny scoured the room for more items. She saw one tiny blue sock on the floor, right under the crib. She bent down, picked it up, then felt her daughter's arms around her.

"Mama!" Chelsea's voice was soft but strong. She had stayed quiet where Will was sleeping and Jenny giggled, hugging that girl.

It felt good to hold Chelsea again, a child Alvin had loved. He had loved her, and would have adored his son. Alvin would have carried apprehensions, but once Will was born, Alvin would have embraced that baby, a little boy that looked so much like him. Jenny gripped her daughter, noting a fleeting pain in Sam's eyes.

"I'm going to see R-A-E."

Jenny nodded. If Sam had said Rae's name, Chelsea would beg to accompany. Obviously Sam needed to go alone, or rather, Tommie needed only Sam.

"Okay. Can you take this basket down for me first?"

Sam's smile lit Jenny's heart. "You bet. He's not going anywhere."

She followed Sam to the kitchen, opening the door. She could get the clothes into the washer, something Chelsea could help with while Will napped. Jenny wondered if that boy and Tommie were both unconscious as she watched Sam get in his truck, heading for the Smiths.

Sam was gone for over an hour, in which time Jenny started laundry, made her bed, read to her daughter, then fed her son. When Sam walked through the front door, Jenny saw an ache, one that Chelsea's squealing voice relieved. Sam picked her up, kissed her cheek, then gave Jenny a look. "We need to talk."

Jenny nodded. Sam fixed lunch and she would lie down as soon as Will was out and Sam had spoken. Once she heard what Sam had to say, Jenny just wanted to sleep.

She was recovering faster than after Chelsea's birth, but Will was only eight days old. Sam could put the clothes in the dryer, one job Jenny hadn't managed, then she would lay down. She had pondered many things over the last twenty-four hours, Sam's feelings for her children, Alvin's awareness of what Jenny would need. Now Tommie, and as Will fussed in her arms, Jenny set her baby against her chest. Will was only interested in being next to her and Jenny cuddled him, happy to consider something simple. She looked at her daughter, finding such joy in those blue eyes, still as bright as her father's. Then Jenny noted Sam's face, little happiness found there.

"How was R-A-E?" Jenny asked.

"Not so G-O-O-D," Sam answered.

Chelsea babbled as Will nibbled, words and letters going right over their heads.

"Miss Chelsea, are you ready for a nap?" Sam chuckled, his tone so different than a minute before.

"No nap. Baby Will nap."

"Oh yeah, your brother's gonna get a nap but you're first," Jenny smiled.

"No nap!" Chelsea whined.

"All the more reason little girl." Sam washed her hands and under small protest, Chelsea was carried upstairs. Jenny heard her squabbling, then the door was closed. They had agreed to be firm with Chelsea when it came to naptime now that she was out of the crib. Once Sam shut the door, Chelsea knew to lie down, and Jenny heard little resistance after Sam came downstairs.

"Well, what happened?" she began, putting Will over her shoulder.

Gently she patted his small back, her hand nearly the size of his body. He weighed nine pounds, but was a wee thing; Jenny hadn't realized Chelsea's true size was until toting her son. Only perception; while Tommie had held it together ten days before, he'd returned to a hole. Now Jenny wondered what Tommie considered important.

"He got so drunk last night that Rae left him in the barn. She wasn't gonna have Max see his father that fucked up." Sam's voice was quiet, but those last two words said it all.

With Will back in her arms, Jenny stared at her son's tiny face, eyes gazing into the room. Ocean blue irises and black pupils, but Tommie's were bloodshot-red, mixed with that loving brown, trying to drown a lasting pain. Tommie had stumbled and Alvin wasn't there to help him stand.

"We got him up, hosed him off, then Rae ran a bath. I tried to reason with him, but he wasn't having any of it."

Jenny nodded. He had been so drunk he'd messed himself, but Sam wouldn't say that. He didn't need too; Jenny knew Tommie's ways. He had told her a few things while drunk, one being a similar night right after Sam's wife died. Tommie had gotten loaded and slept in the yard, unable to reach the bathroom. Rae had hosed him off that morning, ages ago, when everyone was much younger. Now Rae wasn't as agile, nor was her husband.

Sam had been young then, only twenty, maybe twenty-one, Jenny unsure. He hadn't been much older than Steve, and Jenny was relieved none of the kids had seen their father so inebriated. Will had fallen asleep and Jenny rocked him. Alvin had worried a son might not love him, but at the rate Tommie was going, he might be the one with that dilemma.

Jenny put Will in the Moses basket, then sat next to him, staring into the room. Tommie was heading for trouble and Jenny shuddered as the phone rang.

Sam picked it up as Jenny pondered what she could say to Tommie. A birth coach was now moot and she had no idea of what Sam wanted to do. Probably not clean up after Tommie Smith on a daily basis, nor fetch her laundry. Jenny's heart collapsed, forgetting how much Sam loved her children. Blinking away a few tears, she missed Sam's calling of her name.

"Jenny," he whispered sharply, standing in the kitchen doorway.

"What?"

He held the phone to her. "It's Robert Tucker. Someone's dead and he's a mess. Wants to know if he can come over."

Staring to her baby, Jenny nodded.

All afternoon Jenny held Robert or Will in her arms. San Francisco seemed a font of tragedy; that morning the city's mayor, George Moscone, had been murdered by a city official. Another man had been shot, a fellow supervisor to the killer, Dan White. Jenny knew nothing of California politics, but that other death carried great meaning to Robert. The other man killed was Harvey Milk.

An openly gay politician, Milk had been elected the previous year. Jenny had never heard of him, but possessed firsthand knowledge of how his death affected Robert. His world had crumbled and he hadn't even heard Milk speak. He hadn't bothered with him much, Robert's own words, but now all he wanted was to drive to California. A friend of Robert's from San Francisco had called him and Jenny kept the TV on all afternoon. Instead of _Sesame Street_ or _Mr. Roger's Neighborhood_ , they watched KVAL out of Eugene, waiting for the evening news. Jenny wondered if alone it would have garnered this much coverage, but coupled with the Guyana suicides, it seemed all of San Francisco lived under a cloud of despair, fear, and death.

Jenny forgot all about Tommie, Sam's plans too, holding the crying man in her arms, this house the only place Robert could mourn. Chelsea had solemnly watched him, not recalling a grown person in such agony. Jenny couldn't help but think that if Tommie let a floodgate loose, maybe he wouldn't be pounding beers. It was the only time Tommie hit Jenny that afternoon and evening, but it gave her an idea, once Robert was soothed.

"God, that bastard!" Robert whispered. "He walked in there, shot Moscone, then Harvey, just murdered them both at point blank range!"

Jenny hugged Robert, then looked to Sam, who gave no indication of his own memories. Robert wailed, taking a breath as Chelsea stepped his way.

She said nothing, but handed him her baby doll. Robert took it, smiled, then wiped his face. "Uh, thank you Chelsea. God, you look so much like your daddy."

"Sammy," Chelsea smiled, the first word she'd said to Robert since waking from her nap.

Overcome by grief, Robert missed it, but Jenny and Sam heard it clear as day.

By dinner time, Robert was calmer, yet still furious. Having lived his whole life in the closet, now he wanted to go south where he could grieve openly, be himself. He ranted during supper, a quiet seething of anger and sorrow, years of identity finally revealed. His friend had been asking him to move to San Francisco and now that was all Robert wished to do.

Chelsea remained hushed, but Will fussed, and Jenny toted him as he cried. Finally he settled against her chest. As Sam took Chelsea for a bath, Robert sat next to Jenny. "What will you do?" she asked.

"Tomorrow I'm driving down there. Gotta call Cliff tonight, but I'll do that after my folks go to bed. God Jenny, I can't tell you, Sam too, how good it was to come here today. I know I just barged right in, never gave you a minute's peace. I hope I didn't scare your daughter too much."

Jenny smiled. Chelsea had been subdued, but before her bath, she'd approached Robert for a hug. His unease hadn't bothered Chelsea, her affections melting Robert's reserves. Then Jenny knew what to do about Tommie; if Mohammed wouldn't go to the mountain, the mountain would just move up the road, knocking some sense into Tommie's sodden skull.

"Chelsea's fine, don't worry. Are you sure about leaving tomorrow?"

"Every day I stay here is another victory for Dan White and all like him. Bastard murderer; I hope he rots in hell!"

Robert's voice had grown louder, then he looked to the baby. "Oh Jenny, I'm sorry."

"No, you're right. I mean, I hope he gets whatever's coming to him."

Robert stood, gazing to the television, a candlelight vigil proceeding along San Francisco's streets. The camera caught thousands of people young and old, black and white, men and women. "Well, I should be going. Got calls to make, packing to do. Jenny, Sam, I uh, thanks."

Sam came their way as Jenny placed Will in the Moses basket. All shook hands, then Jenny turned to Robert. "Call us when you get settled. And keep in touch," her voice breaking.

He nodded. "I'll be back, wanna see how the roses do."

"I'd like that." Jenny squeezed his hands, then gripped him, such a different man than the one she had observed three years before. Kissing his cheek, she walked him to the door, Sam beside her. They watched him get in his car, spindly rose bushes lit by his headlights.

Sam locked the door, then threw wood on the fire. Jenny felt a chill watching the TV screen, flickering lights against the dark Bay Area night. As Sam approached, she wished for his arms around her, someone to take a sense of gloom. Was Robert the first to leave?

She turned, Sam's face also with a sense of closure. Jenny lost tears and gazed to the ground.

"A lot of love in that city," he said, staring at the television.

Jenny looked up. "You ever been there?"

"No. You?"

"No." She glanced to her son on the sofa. "Well, I better make hay. Who knows how long he'll sleep."

She moved to the couch, noting the heat from the fire. In days past, Alvin would warm her side of their bed, and she wouldn't be cold. Now she was alone, only her children. Sam was a part of them, but maybe he would just up and go like Robert. Maybe it would be easier for him, not having to face reminders in Chelsea and Will's eyes.

"Jenny," Sam called, as she reached the stairs, the basket in hand.

"Yeah?"

"I, uh, don't have any plans on leaving. I mean, unless you want me to."

She trembled, the day's events too much to process. Tommie and Robert, Harvey Milk and George Moscone, those last two names falling together like her own. Jenny Cope seemed as one word and was the next thing Sam said, taking the basket from her shaking hands.

"Jenny Cope, this's the only place I wanna be, here with you and these kids. Oh God, I need to tell you about Lillian."

Jenny nodded, her exhaustion plain. "In the morning Sam. We'll talk then."

Chapter 18

All night Sam dreamed of Jenny, Alvin, and a ceremony that seemed so fictional that even within his dream Sam knew it was an illusion.

Alvin stood to the side with a wide smile that Sam had seen often, all to do with Jenny. Sam carried Will in his arms, who was more to Chelsea's size, and Chelsea also seemed older, her speech fluent. She chattered about roses, Harvey Milk, and Jim Jones, expressing her dismay with that man, sadness over Milk, and such joy with the abundance of blooms Robert had left for them. Chelsea gathered flowers, giving them to her mother. "For you, Mommy. For you and Daddy."

Jenny took the roses; yellow, cream, and peach, but they didn't look normal. Jenny cradled crocheted blooms, then she gazed at Sam, her eyes shining.

"Thank you honey," she said to him.

Sam was incredulous; they weren't from him, but Jenny paid him no attention. No one did, was Sam the only one to see Alvin there?

Sam tried to refute her ideas, but she kissed him, setting his hands on her pregnant belly. Alvin blew her a kiss, winked at Sam, then walked away.

His body trembling, Sam woke to an erection. He hadn't been stirred by thoughts of Jenny, or dreams of her, since Portland. On Tuesday, November the twenty-eighth, Sam recovered those feelings. Slipping from bed, he quietly ran himself a tepid bath.

They ate breakfast with few words. Jenny looked tired, admitted to getting little rest; Will had fussed, her own thoughts troubling. Tommie and Robert spilled from her lips, but she said nothing about Lillian. Sam knew she would give him all the necessary space.

It was eight o'clock and he would call Rae in another hour. Sam wondered when Robert was departing; would Harvey Milk's death be some siren to West Coast homosexuals? Life was short, but Robert was making the most of his. Alvin hadn't waited to start his family and Sam felt his age there with Jenny and her children. He was thirty-five years old; what did he want?

He wanted to tell her about his daughter. Then Sam was stumped. His dream returned and while he remained flaccid, the rest of him burned like hot pins. He wanted to tell her about his baby, then tell Jenny he loved her. He loved her, these children, and wanted to stay here. Sam decided to do all but be honest about how he felt for her. That he could hide.

But not how he adored the kids. Tommie's brokenness had blared at Sam; keeping things inside destroyed one's soul, like Robert, but now he was taking the bull by the horns, going to California, to Castro Street. Sam had never heard of it before, but it was all over the news. Robert was moving to San Francisco, not fearing what Arkendale would say in his wake.

Whispers would be rife; Robert Tucker was, well, you know... a faggot. Sam could imagine the folks who would spread it, assholes like Fred Hooper. Jasper Wilkins would add his two cents, making sure people knew _he_ wasn't gay.

As long as no one knew Sam's heart; he wouldn't compromise Jenny, she was Alvin's widow. They might not have married, but had been near enough, and as Sam looked at her, weary eyes and a baby at her breast, he realized the purpose of his dream. That ceremony had been his and Jenny's wedding.

"I'm gonna call R-A-E, see if she can W-A-T-C-H the G-I-R-L here for a bit."

"Are you sure?" Jenny asked.

"Either it'll be yes or no."

"Yes or no," Chelsea repeated.

"You little monkey," Jenny said, tickling her daughter.

"Yes or no, yes or no," Chelsea chanted.

"Yes or no," Sam sighed, going for the phone. He dialed the Smith farm and to his surprise, Tommie answered, sounding chastened. They would be glad to have Chelsea for the morning.

Sam relayed the news, Jenny as shocked as Sam. "Well good. I hope yesterday sunk into him."
"Me too." Sam took Chelsea from her high chair, then cleaned her face as she said _yes or no_. She began to laugh as Sam copied her, then he kissed her cheek, setting her on the floor.

She continued her litany as he gathered her bag, coat, and hat. Sam squeezed Jenny's free arm, then collected Chelsea, taking her to his truck.

After he returned, they spoke of Tommie; only a few beers were consumed last night and Rae let him back in their bed. She was in town and Tommie said they would bring Chelsea home when Sam called. Jenny laid Will in the Moses basket for a nap, leaving the kitchen door ajar.

Sam sat at the table, finishing his juice. A light rain fell as Jenny cleared the dishes, then she filled the crock pot with meat and vegetables. Once the lid rested on the pot, she sat at the table.

"Maybe you need to get some sleep," Sam said.

"I think you promised me a story."

He nodded, draining the last of the juice. "I suppose I did." He stood, taking the glass to the sink, looking to the mist. Sam was glad he had taken Chelsea when he did. They were snug at home, not on the road like Robert or dead like a thousand people between Guyana and San Francisco, like Alvin and Lillian. Her face poked at Sam, who sighed. "Jenny, I'll just tell you straight out. Lillian, she uh..."

He paused, looking at Jenny. Her babies were both healthy, and while their father had been slow, that was only from an accident. Lillian's problems, well, no one knew. Had they stemmed from Tracy's battered womb or was it as the doctor had noted, only a rare deformity, one that happened so infrequently hardly anyone had heard of it. Sam always assumed the latter; it wasn't Tracy's fault, no one else's fault either, just shit that happened to him.

Shit happened all the time, to them, to gay and straight politicians in California, to over nine hundred people in a South American jungle. Shit left behind those aching for answers, reasons why; why had his wife told her mother about their baby, bringing Tracy's father to Oregon with a gun in his hand. A gun like the one Dan White held only yesterday, erasing two existences. Sam cleared his throat, then looked Jenny in the eye.

"Honey, Lillian was born without a brain. Even if Tracy had taken her to full term, she never would've survived."

Astonishment emerged first, then Jenny took a deep breath. She stared at Sam, then to the floor. Then to the nearly closed kitchen door and he knew what she was thinking; her baby was whole, intact, normal. Lillian had looked anything but and it wasn't only her minute size. That had been odd, but the shape of her head had puzzled Sam from the moment she was lifted from Tracy's lifeless body.

Jenny reached for his face, then did as he expected. She went into the living room, needing her baby.

Sam followed, watched her stand over the sofa. Will slept peacefully, but finally Jenny collected her son. He didn't stir, but Jenny wobbled, and Sam steadied her. Kissing her cheek, he found tears. Then he gently ran his hand over Will's head, the baby barely registering the touch. Will was unconscious, how Lillian had been in Sam's arms. He'd already been devastated by the loss of his wife, yet was relieved that Tracy possessed no idea of their baby's fate.

Jenny then caught Sam's eyes, reaching for his face. Setting fingers along his jaw, she kissed him, a comforting exchange. Sam offered nothing more in return, then Jenny leaned against him, her feet not long for the floor.

They sat on the couch. She was silent in studying her baby, then looking at Sam. Will's blue eyes fluttered; behind those peepers Sam had no idea what was noted, but something. Will was aware of his surroundings, of his existence. A functioning organ sat within his skull and while accidents came and went, at least this was how he started.

After Lillian's birth Sam had felt a kinship with Alvin; Alvin might have been slowed by his fall, but the gray matter functioned. He still had all his marbles, they were just scattered, and on occasion Sam had mentioned that when Alvin had dismissed himself. Sam wished he could have been honest with Alvin, and told Jenny so. He broke the silence with that thought, then felt her sink more against him.

"Oh Sam, oh my god!" She pulled her baby even closer and Will began rooting. Jenny opened her blouse, setting that infant's head against her breast.

"Honey, it was just a one in a million occurrence, nothing anyone could do. Even if she'd gone full term," and Sam paused. "You know, for as bad as what happened, I really don't know if Tracy could've taken that. I just don't know."

Jenny nodded, aware that Tracy's three miscarriages were all caused by her father. He had beaten those babies from his daughter, raping her again with absolutely no regard for her physical or mental health. Tracy and Sam had never used birth control for she didn't bleed. When she became sick after their wedding, Sam took her to the doctor. The couple had been astounded to learn that Tracy was expecting a baby.

Sam held Jenny, those notions filling the room. As Will ate, Jenny swayed back and forth, losing a few tears. Sam felt them for him, his wife, their child. The baby was buried with her mother in Arizona, but Sam had no idea where Tracy's father lay.

"Jenny, that's why I was so consumed with Will's head." He laughed gently, touching that still pointy scalp. "But honey, there was no way I could tell you until now."

She nodded, remaining silent.

Sam looked to the front window, rain falling hard. The farm was dormant, trees long harvested, a crop besting all previous years. The garden had been fruitful and he was looking forward to strawberry jam next summer. Sam wanted to be here, with Jenny and her children, babies he considered his. Sam had never accepted it was simply the farm Alvin wanted attended, but Sam would only go so far. Jenny wasn't in any shape for romantic entanglements. She might need him now, or later when she battled Tommie. He had looked all right that morning, but it was the shock from yesterday; waking in his own excrement had rattled Tommie's cage. He might refrain from getting that drunk for a few days, but Sam didn't assume big change anytime soon.

Not until Jenny began to speak about Alvin and his accident, taking Sam's breath. As Will nursed, Jenny revealed a truth, one that Sam was sure if she shared with Tommie might be enough to pry a beer can from his hand.

Will napped in the Moses basket as Sam held Jenny on the couch. She had talked for nearly an hour, but had sworn Sam to secrecy. She didn't want anyone to know, not even Tommie for the good it might do. She was going to employ a different tactic with that man, her daughter.

Sam wasn't sure if it would work, but it was worth a shot. Jenny could wave Chelsea in Tommie's face, see where it got her. Where Tommie would land, Sam had no idea, uncertain if Tommie would listen.

"Jenny, are you sure, I mean..." Her hand in his felt warm and pleasing. Sam tried to rid himself of those sensations, instead focusing on her words and his daughter's misshapen face.

"Sam, if not, my god, what else?" Jenny stood, moving to the fireplace, and Sam was glad for her absence. His body was fighting a losing battle; if he stayed, he would have to find an outlet, maybe start running. He had years back, after Tracy died. He had jogged and wrote, but hadn't done either for ages. Something would have to give; Jenny was too strong within him.

"Honey, whatever you wanna do."

She turned, her face contorted. "Sam, I need to know. I mean, we haven't talked about what you're gonna do now." She sighed. "I know you love the kids."

He let the subject shift, still painful, but this too needed to be settled. "I wanna be here with you, with Chelsea and Will. Yeah, I do love them." Them and you, but stepping toward her, Sam allowed that no conscious air. "God Jenny, when you had Will, I had no idea what it meant to be a father again."

Those last three words stuck in his throat, but he forced them out.

Jenny nodded. "I realized this yesterday, was it yesterday? Maybe the day before." She clasped his hands within hers. "Alvin will always be their biological father, but you're their daddy."

She looked down, then at his eyes. "They love you, even Will. I see how he settles in your arms. After my boobs, you're the next best thing."

She laughed with ease. "Sam, I love you. We need you and you need us. I mean, where else would you go, Jacob's?" She giggled. "I know it's kinda, well, weird. I mean..." Her face changed to a look Sam couldn't reckon. Longing, or was it only him wishing?

"Jenny, if you want me to stay, I will. For as long as it works."

That was Sam's truth, what he could admit. She seemed happy for it, kissing the side of his face. "After Alvin, I couldn't ask for a better father for my children. Our children," she smiled. "I don't care what anyone thinks or says."

She glanced at the floor, then gazed upward. Finding her tears, Sam couldn't help himself, kissing her cheeks, his lips tender against her skin.

She had kissed him upon learning about Lillian, the closest they had come to each other physically. Sam pulled back, wondering if he had just undone all their decisions.

Stroking his face with her hand, Jenny didn't seek his eyes. Then she turned to the fire, warming fingers Sam knew weren't cold.

Chapter 19

On Monday, the fifteenth of January, 1979, Alvin Harris would have celebrated his forty-second birthday. Instead Jenny and her children laid flowers on his grave, Sam, Rae, Steve, and Marcy with them. Jacob and Debbie were in the background, and after the group visited Alvin's marker, flowers were placed on Maisie Cassel's headstone, the day breezy and cool, rain in the forecast. Jenny had Will wrapped tightly and after Sam set a bouquet near his mother's marker, he took that infant, kneeling down, telling Will of his grandmother. Jenny leaned against Steve, listening to Sam's loving voice. That the baby was asleep mattered little. This was a family brought together over time, through love.

The younger Smith and Cassels had protested, missing this activity due to school. Yet it was important to Jenny to be there, before the rain arrived. She wasn't sure if she wanted to do anything to mark Alvin's death. That date seemed abstract; what exactly did a year signify? At least today meant something, she had told Rae, the day Alvin entered the world.

The younger teens had spoken their minds, but Tommie had been silent, and Jenny hadn't pressed. There seemed to be little point as Tommie had returned to his previous habits. Steve was so preoccupied at the Smith farm, Jenny was considering hiring another man to help Sam in the spring. Now Alvin's farm was quiet, only the hens needing daily attention. That left Sam plenty of time for his passions, the electric typewriter Jenny had given him for Christmas vying with Will to make the most noise in the Cope-Cassel household. If Sam wasn't writing, he was running, another affinity Jenny had noted since December. Sam ran after his morning chat with Rae, and he wanted to get a jogging stroller for later in the year once the weather was better and Will was bigger. Jenny had teased she would need two men instead of one, and Sam's smile had been twofold, pleased with her joke, but bitter for the reason.

Tommie hadn't listened to Jenny's pleas, didn't seem to care he was killing himself, ruining the relationships he had with Alana and Max, Chelsea and Will. Those younger ones were still within Tommie's reach, but he was drowning at the bottom of a beer can, Jenny had yelled. And that he should watch where he dropped those pull tabs, for he would only be adding to the hurt. Jenny hadn't minced words, but the holiday season had been dreary, Alvin's absence and Tommie's drinking casting a pall over Christmas and New Year's. There was dinner at the Smiths, but Tommie spent most of it in the barn, alone. On the last day of 1978, Jenny and Sam went to Jacob and Debbie's, noting Max and Liz were back together, chatting with Lexi, Ricky, Steve, and Marcy. Alana and Scott had friends over, the small house near to bursting. The only ones missing were Tommie and Rae.

Jenny felt that night's return at the cemetery, holding Chelsea's hand as Sam stood, cradling his son. They had allowed Chelsea to continue using _Sammy_ , but it now was interchangeable with _Daddy_ , and Alvin was _Papa_. Jenny had started that only a few days into the New Year, a way to distinguish her children's fathers, but not diminish either man. She had made it clear to Chelsea they were giving flowers to her papa, a man who made her, had so loved her. Jenny showed Chelsea photographs, ones of her in Alvin's arms, but Chelsea didn't recognize herself, thought it was Will. Jenny persisted until Chelsea finally understood. One picture had done it, a snapshot of Alvin, Tommie, and Chelsea. Chelsea smiled, called Alvin _Papa_ , then asked for her Uncle Tommie. Chelsea didn't equate her brother with that man, so infrequent was Tommie's presence since Will's birth.

Chelsea wriggled from her mother's grasp, heading back toward Alvin's plot. It was easy to spot, colorful blooms set across the sparse lawn, and Chelsea ran around it, calling for _Papa_. Jenny went after her, noting Chelsea understood this was where Alvin dwelled. The toddler didn't question why her papa wasn't actually with them, but didn't seem bothered, and Jenny picked her up, kissing her face.

"Where's Papa?" Chelsea asked, pointing to the ground.

"He's in heaven," Jenny mumbled, her heart falling to her feet. She heard the rest move their way, a few small sounds from her son.

"Where's Uncle Tommie?" Chelsea said, playing with Jenny's hair.

Her hair was long again, but Jenny was considering another cut, as severe as she had wanted this time last year. This time a year ago Alvin was alive, Tommie was sober, and Sam lived in Portland. Jenny found his eyes, could read nearly all his thoughts. She was starting to sense those last few pieces to Sam Cassel, but hearing Chelsea wanting her _Uncle Tommie_ returned Jenny to that day, why they were there. And why Tommie wasn't.

Afterwards, all went to Jenny's house, but little was said. Jenny didn't ask Rae about Tommie anymore, the agony in Rae's eyes something Jenny couldn't broach. Steve and Marcy stayed a few minutes, then left for work. Jacob would get back after lunch, which was beef stew. It had simmered overnight and the kitchen smelled inviting.

Oatmeal chocolate chip cookies waited, some in a bag for Rae to take home, Jenny's only peace offering. She had talked to Tommie until she was blue in the face, then walked away. She loved him, but two small children hadn't reached him, children who needed her. Jenny grieved over what Tommie was doing to Max and Alana, but other than offer a shoulder for that girl and a place for Max to seek respite, there was little to be done. If Max wasn't at Jenny's, he was in town with Liz. They had reunited at New Year's and in the strictest confidence Liz confided to Jenny that they had been intimate. Both were seventeen, but Liz seemed so aged from the girl in the Smith horse stall three years before. She possessed newly bobbed curls that suited her face; green eyes having suffering her father's drinking now battled her boyfriend's alcoholic dad. Max had applied to the University of Oregon, but Liz wasn't sure if she wanted to move from home. They were arguing about it; Max wanted her there, but Liz was more comfortable in Arkendale.

Jenny pondered that while watching Jacob and Debbie with Rae, Chelsea and Will between them. Sam had stopped at Tommie's and Jenny ladled stew into bowls, leaving Sam's empty, not wanting his to get cold.

"Lunch's ready," she called, her breasts heavy. She hadn't spooned herself any either, would feed Will while the rest ate. All had become accustomed to Jenny's ways, no one minding that she nursed Will in their presence. Jacob was only interested in his meal, helping himself to seconds even before Sam arrived.

The talk was light, mostly of what Liz and Max would do. None of the parents seemed aware that relationship had taken a serious turn and Jenny stayed mum as she burped Will, pulling her blouse closed, the only concession she made when around Jacob. Neither Rae nor Debbie would have cared, or Tommie. Thinking of him made Jenny sigh, as Will started with the other side.

She kept mum about Tommie too, but Rae wondered what she would do once Max left for school. That sentence returned the conversation to the teens, not snubbing Rae, only focusing on what was more pleasant, in a manner of speaking. Both Tommie and Alvin were excluded from the meal, each carrying a daunting weight. Jenny felt helpless as that notion hovered, then she looked to the rattling back door.

"Daddy!" Chelsea wiggled in her high chair until Rae set her down. Chelsea ran to Sam and he picked her up, throwing her over his head.

"She just ate stew, so be careful it doesn't land in your hair," Rae quipped.

"Oh, I've had worse thanks to Will." Sam's voice was chipper, Jenny aware it was for Chelsea's benefit. His gray eyes were cold.

Everyone laughed, overlooking Sam's grim expression. They ignored it like Tommie's drinking and Jenny's past slapped her face. No one in Colorado Springs ever admitted what had been perpetrated and Jenny had lost her family. She stood, seeing how it happened, actions too awful to contemplate. For the first time Jenny understood a fraction of her mother, a woman who must have known, yet did nothing, easier to remain mute and ignorant than accept the truth.

Jenny shook, then Sam wrapped one arm around her. He stroked Will's head, kissing her cheek. Those simple, loving exchanges were usually for the children, but on that day Jenny needed physical reassurance, both for where they had been and her thoughts.

She looked at everyone, all alert to her past, and to Tommie's present. And what the future might hold if this wasn't stopped. Jenny wasn't naïve; it was up to Tommie to change his ways. But if they continued to ignore it, the cost could be them again at the cemetery. They would be laying flowers on Tommie Smith's grave.

Jenny gave Will to Rae, then took Chelsea from Sam, putting her in the playpen. Turning on the TV, Jenny gave Chelsea some toys, kissing her child. Jenny shut the door to the kitchen part way, then stared at everyone. "So how was he?"

"Just sitting in bed, drunk."

"We can't let this go on," Jenny said.

"Well what in the hell you expect me to do?" Rae barked.

"What I mean is we can't keep ignoring this, ignoring him. That's what tore my family apart and while this might not be as bad, it's ripping your kids to pieces, all the kids."

Jacob stared to the floor as Debbie met Jenny's gaze. There was unspoken agreement, but what to do?

Rae stood, swaying with Will in her arms, softness eking through her stoic demeanor. Then Rae sniffled. "Honey, there's nothing we can do. It's all falling in on him."

Jenny caressed Rae's face. "We can't hide from this anymore. It's not fair to you, to Max and Alana, Steve and Lexi. Not to any of us and not to this baby. You heard Chelsea there today, asking for Tommie. She's already lost one man who loved her, and I don't want her later seeing pictures of Tommie, asking what happened to him too."

As Jenny sat, Sam squeezed her shoulders. She needed consolation; this day was one that Alvin longed for, his birthday celebrated with presents, cake and ice cream, candles blown and wishes made, surrounded by family. He had crowed like a kid on this day and Jenny's whole being ached for his touch. Sam's hands felt good, better than she had ever noticed, and she didn't shirk from that contact.

Will sensed Jenny's uneven mood, whining until Rae rocked him. Then she set him over her shoulder and he settled. Jenny looked at her son, then at Sam. She grinned, unsure from where it sprung. With so much turmoil, Jenny could still smile.

"I don't know what to do, but I'm tired of tiptoeing around him, pretending there's nothing wrong. That's what I did in the past, and it only screwed me over. But I didn't do that when Alvin died and I can't do it now, not for my kids, and I see Max, my god, that boy's hurting so bad. Lana too, but Max and Tommie were so close!"

Jenny chose the past tense deliberately, stunning everyone. Was she implying Max no longer needed his father or that Tommie was already too far gone? Either way, it boded ill. As Rae left with the Cassels, Jenny clung to her son, Sam collecting Chelsea from the playpen. Jenny had this small family, but Tommie seemed out of her reach.

On Jenny's thirty-third birthday she shared a cake with the usual suspects, the Baxters included. Candles were arranged around the edge and Chelsea helped her mother blow them out. Jenny received tokens, mostly flowers. A vase of roses from Robert graced the coffee table; his name swirled with hesitation, but nothing derogatory. Jenny was touched by his thoughtfulness, anticipating more blooms in summer.

She also had a new haircut. Brown hair ceased at her jaw, a short style displeasing Chelsea. She had been skittish when Jenny returned from town, those long locks gone. Will seemed unbothered, only nothing for him to hold, one reason for the brevity. Jenny had tired of his grabby hands; at two and a half months, he was starting to reach out, her earrings the next to fall. She let him tug on her necklace, the rose charm still attached. If he snapped the chain, Jenny wouldn't replace it.

Everyone loved her hair. Alana threatened to cut hers the same and Scott squawked, then huffed off, but no one said anything. Tommie's troubles made life at home untenable for the two youngest Smiths. They were either at Jenny's or at Jacob's, and as things happened between boys and girls, Scott and Alana had shared more than conversation over their fathers' drinking habits. Now they seemed a twosome, but left older siblings to openly display their affections.

Max and Liz snuggled on the couch, Chelsea nestled between them, getting bites of cake from each. She rarely asked for Tommie, but Papa came forth as Alvin's name was spoken. In a month he would be gone a year; did Jenny have any plans for that day?

She shook her head. Maybe to get a trim, she said, half seriously. She was going to keep her hair short, requiring maintenance, but maybe not as soon as the third of March, a Saturday. Jenny was plainly aware of that date on the calendar, but wasn't planning to mark it, preferring to remember Alvin's birthday.

No one argued and as the cake was demolished, Jenny observed her family. The Baxters chatted with Rae, Sam, Jacob, and Debbie. Max and Liz were cozy with Chelsea between them, while Alana and Scott had commandeered the kitchen under the pretense of doing dishes. Jenny owned no dishwasher, her life unchanged by Alvin's money. She didn't even consider it Alvin's, more like Bonnie's, why Jenny so rarely spent it. She had splurged on her haircut and would continue that habit, but since Christmas, she hadn't bought any extras. Steve admitted he would be busy with their farm that year and Jenny had told Sam to hire someone, maybe Grant Schumacher. Sam had laughed, then realized Jenny wasn't joking. Nothing needed attention for a few more weeks, but by March, Jenny would need to know.

The evening ended with one slice of cake wrapped for Rae to take home. It was unspoken for whom, but in handing it to Rae, Jenny said to give Tommie her best. Jenny could offer that, but she wouldn't watch Tommie commit suicide. Giving Rae a kiss, as Max and Alana waited in the car, Jenny wiped Rae's tears, spilling her own. So many hands wanted to pull Tommie from his rut, but not one was taken.

Rae got into bed, another night sleeping alone. Tommie had the barn exclusively, his presence in the house for mid-day, then an hour at dinnertime. He would pick at what Rae served, his weight only bolstered by the beer he consumed. She fixed all his favorites, but little other than liquid passed through his lips.

Mealtimes were now silent affairs, only Max and Alana offering conversation. Sometimes Steve and Marcy visited, but not often, too hard on Steve to see his father so broken. No one said anything, but even if they had, Tommie wouldn't have listened.

He was beyond them and most nights Rae cried herself to sleep, wishing he would come home. He wasn't fifty feet from her, but a world away, and she wondered if he had released things as they'd occurred, maybe Alvin's death wouldn't have hit him so hard. Maybe if he had grieved his hand, losing that part of his life only she understood. Baseball had been more than a passion, but as his thumb was severed, so was that existence, and now the dominoes were tumbling. Alvin had toppled not only Tommie, but Rae too. Their whole life had crumbled and Rae dreamed of broken bricks around her, smothering her husband.

In the Smith barn, the edge of Tommie's sanity peeked through and he hastened slumber with another beer. Sleep took away all his pain, so many years of holding in piece after piece, but Alvin had been a constant. No matter what happened to Tommie, Alvin was always there.

Now he was a demon, keeping Tommie from breathing. All he could do was drink, oxygen released from the cool, bitter liquid, air from the popping of a tab, then slipped into the can. Sometimes he felt it against his tongue, sharp and pointy, reminding him of Jenny's words as Chelsea's laugh rang in his head. No matter what Jenny said, it all sounded the same: _Alvin's dead, he fell from a tree. You were there, but it meant nothing._

Life meant nothing without his best friend. Yes, there was Will, and Tommie missed that baby with a fierce, pounding ache. Alvin's son, but not just Alvin's; that baby was now Sam's. That had been what Alvin had wanted, what he'd told Tommie in the ambulance, but that exchange was filed where Tommie couldn't hear it. Tommie couldn't see Chelsea or Will, two miniature versions of their father, a man Tommie had loved.

He had loved him, then lost him. Tommie had heard the rumors about Robert Tucker. Strange, as Tommie hadn't known anyone like that, and here was Robert right under their noses all these years. He loved men, what the hell did that mean? That wasn't how Tommie had loved Alvin; Tommie missed him more than he could bear. He missed Alvin's voice, his manner, his goofy smile, or the more serious look Alvin wore after Jenny Cope had arrived.

But near death in the ambulance, Alvin had told Tommie that Jenny belonged with Sam. Alvin gave her away as Tommie screamed for him to shut up. Then he shook Alvin; had that hastened his death? Tommie knew it hadn't. That dumb bastard was gone the moment he climbed the beech tree.

He had climbed that fucking tree on the day Jenny found out she was having his baby; if he knew she was pregnant, why in the hell did he climb that tree? Tommie drank one more beer, then sprawled on the floor of his father's barn, slipping into unconsciousness.

Chapter 20

On Saturday, the third of March, Jenny Cope woke with her baby next to her. Will suffered from a cold, all the excuse she needed to stay home.

She didn't want to see anyone, didn't want to talk. All she wanted was to nurse her baby, cuddle with her daughter, and listen to Elton John and Joni Mitchell. Jenny did all those things, but by dinner time, she waited with everyone in the emergency room, wishing to be anywhere else.

The last place Jenny wanted to be was in that lobby. Fortunately, Sylvia Baxter had come for Chelsea, and all Jenny had to do was console Will. He could only nurse a short time before his stuffy nose halted the proceedings. Using the bulb syringe, Jenny removed the blockage, then placed him back against her body, feeling the lively warm child. A year ago Will was only a speck. His father was dead, but Will existed.

Jenny rolled that in her head, watching the rest of her family, Liz visibly distraught. Max was still in surgery, no time to get him to Albany or Portland. If he made it through the operation, they would move him afterwards, but that wasn't a given. He had gone through the windshield of Alvin's truck head first, a faint rumble of possible brain damage in the air. Only by luck had there been a doctor in town, visiting with the Wheelers, who could perform such delicate work. Chunks of glass pierced Max's skull, and one eye might be lost. Jenny let those gory details slip from her head, gently caressing her son's soft cheek.

Rae wasn't in the lobby, back in the cubicle with Tommie. He had been driving, only suffering superficial cuts to his face. He was sedated, unaware of Max's injuries. Father and son had been returning from town, then the truck landed in a channel not a quarter mile from their house. It had been raining, possibly a factor, but all assumed Tommie had been driving drunk, and now his youngest son was fighting for his life. Jenny tossed that idea from her head, letting it float away.

Sam sat next to her, holding her hand. He had been at her side all day, so had others. While they were there for the Smith family, Jenny's day wasn't forgotten. Debbie and Alana had urged her to go home, but Jenny wouldn't leave. She had to stay until Max was out of surgery, but Rae hadn't been given any assurances by the doctors.

Jenny squirmed in her seat, but Will took little notice. Even with his cold, he smiled and laughed, a happy soul like his sister, like his papa. Also like Sam; Will absorbed everything, a quieter nature than Chelsea. Sam could be jovial, but more often he was observant, Will the same. Jenny burped her son, then sucked out his nose. She set him to the other side and with clear airways, Will got to work, alleviating some pressure from Jenny's chest.

Not all, for her heart ached like a year before. She didn't blame Tommie, didn't blame anyone. As she hadn't blamed Alvin for climbing a tree when he knew she might be pregnant, how could she place culpability upon her brother? It was beyond horrific and if Max suffered permanent damage or, god forbid, died, she knew that would be it for Tommie. He would never forgive himself, any added guilt trips a waste of time. There was nothing to be done except to wait. Jenny had to wait as she did for her baby, for her father to be done with her, waiting for her mother to see what was happening. Then Jenny squeezed Sam's hand.

"You okay?" he asked, taking her fingers against his face.

She nodded, his beard nearly gone. He had trimmed it short after her haircut, and again Chelsea took it poorly. Too many changes, but she didn't say that, instead crossing arms over her body, giving them both a look. If she'd known to tap her foot, Chelsea probably would have done that too. Jenny was still getting used to Sam's neater appearance, something he claimed he did for the running. Said he was tired of sweat and water collecting in his beard and he was threatening to cut his hair short too.

Jenny had laughed, told him to give it another month or Chelsea would really have their hides. Max had joined the joke, his hair shaggy. Jenny assumed they had shaved his head; what would Chelsea think of that? She wouldn't like it, but accidents happened.

It was only an accident, like Alvin's fall when he was nine years old, his life forever altered from that event. Like Tommie's car accident and now would it be father like son? Would Max's life be forever altered because of an accident?

Jenny inhaled as Rae emerged from the cubicle. Approaching Jenny, Rae shook with every slow step. "Honey, when you're done with Will, he'd like to see you."

"Is he awake?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, starting to ask about Max. I need a break and he asked for Jenny."

Jenny took Will from her breast. He was only playing and after handing him to Sam, she adjusted her clothes, then stood, hugging Rae. They clung to each other, joined by Alana. Only Lexi was missing, Ricky collecting her from Eugene. Again she was too distraught to drive, and only one mishap was needed that day. Jenny kissed them both, then headed for Tommie.

A small piece of gauze sat over his left eye, more to the middle of his forehead. It was the only bandage and Jenny shuddered, sitting on his right, placing his hand in hers. He turned, saw her, then looked to his feet. "God Jenny Cope, I'm so sorry!"

She trembled. "Honey, it's all right. I love you."

His hand shook and Jenny brought it to her lips, kissing it. His lasting injury was this mangled limb, good for little. Yet, it had pulled him off of his cloud, placed Rae in his life. Now it was a reminder and Jenny said a silent prayer to Alvin's god. If you are real, she pleaded, please let Max be all right.

Not for Rae or Liz or even Max himself, but for Max's father, who would never be the same if Max...

"How's my boy?" Tommie asked.

"Max?"

"Honey, just tell me. Rae won't say a thing but I saw him go through the windshield."

Jenny sighed, again kissing his hand. "We don't know anything yet."

He squinted in disbelief.

"Tommie, really. He's still in surgery. We're just waiting."

He nodded. "We were arguing and he tried to take the wheel. I was only trying to miss a jack rabbit, but he grabbed the steering wheel. God Jenny, I never meant to, I mean..."

As Tommie broke down, Jenny didn't smell any beer. Had he been drunk? She hadn't seen him in weeks, but according to Rae, nothing had changed. Had that day found him sober, could he be clear-headed? He'd been drinking like a fish since Will's birth, three and a half months solid. Jenny didn't know, couldn't ask. Pain seared her heart. Tommie hurt so much, nothing anyone could do.

She wanted her baby, wanted Sam. She didn't want to sit here and feel what her soul recalled from a year ago. A year to the day, but Jenny went nowhere, holding Tommie's gnarled hand. Again Jenny placed a kiss on Tommie's stump of a thumb, then heard footsteps. She turned, saw Sam. "Well?"

"He's out, they think they got most of the glass. His eye's probably gone. Now we wait."

Jenny wanted to stand, be wrapped in arms that were nearly like Alvin's. Instead she gripped Tommie as he began to bawl.

Tommie was discharged that night, but didn't head for jail. He got in the family car, Steve taking his father home. Blood work had cleared Tommie of drunk driving.

Rae would stay with Max, his condition tenuous. He wouldn't be moved, the extent of his brain injury unknown. Jenny and Sam left at the same time as Steve and Tommie, the rest waiting for Lexi, but Jenny needed to go. Sam would stop for Chelsea, then head straight home.

In the emergency room, Tommie had wept for a long time, Rae joining them, standing on his other side. Jenny saw no blame from her, a woman torn by love and circumstances. Her son was still alive, her husband an emotional wreck. Yet, Rae had to be with Max, and Jenny understood; she loved her brother, but couldn't stay near death and injury. It had been a year since Alvin, and now another. When did it end?

Sam collected Chelsea, only staying long enough to update the Baxters. Chelsea was tired and fussed in her car seat, waking her brother. Arriving home, Jenny had two whiny children. She changed Will, then fed him while Sam got Chelsea into pajamas. She was reluctant to settle, but once in bed, she didn't stir. After Jenny put Will in his crib, she went to the couch, curling under the green and gray afghan.

Sam came to her side, then Jenny cried as hard as Tommie had, for nearly all the same reasons. She didn't speak, but heard Sam's voice, kind and soothing. After she could sit up, she blew her nose, then gazed into the room. A month before, on her birthday, all had been here, Max and Liz on this very sofa sharing cake with Chelsea. Now that boy was fighting for his life in the same hospital where Alvin had lost his. Jenny tried to conjure those carefree days when she had first arrived in this village, those kids young and unharmed. She had wanted them to stay that way, but no one was safe, not Max Smith, not Jenny Cope. Not Alvin Harris, Tracy Cassel, or Tommie. Once again, Tommie Smith had to swallow an accident.

"God Sam, when's it gonna end?" She took a deep breath, then let it out, wishing she could exhale pain for everyone.

"Maybe it never does."

She looked at him, gray eyes tired, also accepting. Sam had swallowed his share of ugliness, but now held with Jenny two children.

She nodded, then stood. "I'm going to bed. What a shitty day."

He didn't argue as Jenny glanced once more around the room. She used to picture Alvin there, but that hadn't happened since his birthday. With a feeble goodnight, Jenny headed to the stairs.

For two days, Max lay in a drug-induced coma much like the one Grant Schumacher had endured. Arkendale General saw more advanced equipment and specialists over that weekend going into Monday than ever before, but Max's condition was still questionable. His left eye was probably useless, windshield shards severing nerves. Max might want a patch or a glass eye, but to speak of such things courted danger. Who knew what Max would realize when he did stir?

Tommie was in Jacob and Sam's care, and was sober. In a bad way from it, but he hadn't taken a single drink, quitting cold turkey just as Jacob had in 1975. Tommie couldn't bring himself to see his son, but his older children had come round, Lexi and Steve readily accepting the situation. Alana was slower to embrace him, yet, the crash was only an accident. A witness coming the other way confirmed Tommie's story, a rabbit hopping across the road. Tommie had swerved to miss it, but perhaps Max hadn't seen it, thought his father drunk. It had been the middle of the day; Tommie hadn't had a beer since the night before. He was sober enough to drive, to attempt not turning that rabbit into road kill. Max had tried for the wheel, overshot the gully, the truck veering into the ditch. Not wearing his seat belt was Max's downfall, Tommie's restraint saving him from serious injury.

Max never wore his seat belt, Liz attested. She had complained about it for ages, but he'd always brushed her off. Jenny was glad Tommie was exonerated, but if Max didn't pull through, Tommie would still blame himself.

On Wednesday, Max was weaned from the sedatives, generally unresponsive by nightfall. Jenny took her turn, yet this wasn't like waiting at Maisie Cassel's bedside. Max was seventeen years old, planning for college. Like Lexi he wanted to study business in Eugene, wanted Liz to join him. Max loved the Seattle Seahawks, tolerated the San Francisco Giants. He loved his parents, but had fought his dad's drinking, that last detail no longer an issue. Like Jacob, Tommie had witnessed one of his children in trouble, a brutal slap pulling him from the depths. Yet, this was far worse than Liz being pressured by Chad Lambert. This was whether Max would be himself, or like Alvin.

No one said it, but that rested on all minds. The timing was part, then so many years of Alvin and his limitations. Jenny heard from Rae on Wednesday night; nothing new, maybe tomorrow. Maybe on Thursday Max might start to talk, if he could. Maybe they would know something then.

Jenny and Sam sat next to the sleeping teenager, Will in the lobby. Jenny needed her son close for his mealtimes and her own peace of mind. Rae had Max's other side, but Tommie still hadn't visited. Not until he knew and then his presence would depend on the news.

At one o'clock on Thursday afternoon information still wasn't forthcoming. Max hadn't stirred, his condition starting to pose a more serious turn. The doctors weren't answering direct questions, the biggest being why was Max still unconscious? The medication had been eased late on Tuesday, completely withdrawn by mid-Wednesday. He had made a few weak noises that night, but since then had lain motionless. Jenny watched for any small progress, but nothing emerged.

"I'm going out for a minute," she whispered.

"You want company?" Sam squeezed her hand as Rae nodded.

Jenny shook her head, then kissed his cheek. The short beard prickled and she quickly moved away.

Lexi, Ricky, Steve, and Marcy sat in the hallway. Debbie was down a few chairs, Will in her arms. Jenny smiled at the kids, then claimed her son.

"I just changed him," Debbie said.

"Thanks."

Jenny sat next to her, noting Will's blue eyes. They were bright and alert, and she wanted Max's gray irises the same; was that asking too much? Jenny wanted to nurse her son, but he was content to look out, offering a grin.

"Oh, but you're a happy boy," she cooed, tickling his chin.

"Anything yet?" Debbie asked in a low tone.

Jenny looked to the kids. "Nothing."

"God, this isn't good."

"I know. It's been a whole day now," Jenny whispered.

She watched Sam emerge, heard Lexi ask that question. _No change_ was all Sam said.

He came Jenny's way and stood next to her. She knew he wanted to hold the baby and she handed Will over, Sam giving kisses, then cuddling him close.

Lexi and Steve went into their brother's room, two seats always occupied, only a rotation of who sat next to the one unconscious. The younger kids would arrive soon and Jenny wanted to leave. She wished she could stay for Rae, but it was too close to Alvin.

Jenny stood, giving Debbie a kiss. "I'm gonna tell her we're going."

Sam nodded, gathering their things. Jenny stopped where Marcy sat, offering a hug. She patted Ricky's leg, then entered the room.

The Smith family sat in tears, Max's silent frame unchanged. Jenny gripped Rae's hand, unable to view the motionless figure.

By Friday evening Liz was despondent. She had missed school, sitting at Max's bedside, promising him anything. She would gladly live with him in Eugene, do whatever he wanted. Then she railed, furious he hadn't worn his seat belt. At dinner time Debbie took her home, leaving Max with Sam and Jacob.

Tommie still hadn't been to the hospital, was with Jenny and the kids. Chelsea was pleased with her Uncle Tommie's return, Will happy for a new face. Tommie was clear-headed but so pained and Jenny found herself making an appeal. Partly to Alvin himself, as if a saint to whom she could seek intercession, requesting if the patron of damaged brains could intervene on Max's behalf. Jenny asked, then begged; for Max, but mostly for his father.

The evening dragged, but Tommie was helpful, giving Chelsea her bath while Jenny fed her son, then cleaned house. Laundry piled, the fridge looked bare. Jenny needed to get to the store, but other issues had pressed. As Tommie toted a damp and clean Chelsea in his arms, Jenny smiled. It was like old times, Chelsea only a bit bigger. She hadn't forgotten her uncle, and told him of her papa, the first time Tommie had heard Chelsea speak of Alvin that way. Tommie shed a few tears in the process.

"You can P-U-T her to B-E-D," Jenny said.

"Oh I can?" Tommie gave a weak smile.

"Yes _you_ can."

Kissing her daughter, Jenny waved goodnight to Chelsea. Then Jenny moved to the couch, setting Will to his last meal of the evening. She stared around the room, toys scattered, a few shoes askew. Her most recent project was clumped in the rocker, a blanket for Robert. He had written how chilly San Francisco was, not much different than Oregon, and some blue skeins had caught her eye.

Jenny was exhausted from trips back and forth, from sleepless nights. Alvin's year anniversary had been overshadowed and she was fine with that. She hadn't wanted a fuss, but the cost hadn't been to her liking. Yet, Tommie was sober, although it wasn't a fair trade. Jenny had wanted him to stop drinking, but Max had paid a price, and it was unknown if Tommie would stay dry. If Max didn't recover...

Jenny focused on her son, barely awake, her nipple half in his mouth. She pulled it away and he didn't move. If she had any sense, she would go right to bed. Her eyelids felt like weights and Tommie could see himself out.

He came down, sat in the big chair. "You want me to put him to bed?"

She nodded. "I just can't move."

He smiled, taking the baby from her arms. Jenny heard Tommie coo as he had with Chelsea when she was small. Arranging her blouse, Jenny stood, collecting toys from the walkway, but leaving the rest. It could be tidied tomorrow.

She was heading to the kitchen when the phone rang, Lexi's tearful voice pouring through the receiver. As Jenny nodded, Tommie joined her, his face ashen.

"Uh-huh, oh god, are you sure?" Jenny warbled.

Tommie didn't move, staring at the floor. Jenny motioned for him, but he stayed still.

"Okay honey, just a minute." Jenny set her palm over the receiver. "Tommie, he's stirring, he's..."

"Honey, just tell me."

Jenny reached out for him. "It looks like he's gonna be okay. He knows who he is, remembers the accident. He saw the rabbit and the first thing he wanted to know was if you were all right."

Releasing those sentiments, she heaved relief. Jenny hadn't realized the extent of her dread until Lexi's words, spoken through joyful tears. Jenny began to choke, trying to tell Tommie, for he still couldn't move.

"Tommie Smith, get your ass over here and take this phone!" If she woke the kids, it was worth it. "Jacob's on his way for you and Sam's coming home too."

Tommie took guilty steps. "Are, are you sure?"

"Here, I'll let your daughter tell you." Jenny gave Tommie the receiver, then landed in a chair. She would have fallen if he'd waited another second, her heart pounding, her pulse racing. According to Lexi, Max didn't yet know he had lost an eye, but his speech was fine, if not a little slurred. He was conscious, and wanted his father. Maybe after he learned about his sight, he might balk, but Jenny wouldn't allow that another thought; Max was going to be okay.

Tommie wept into the phone, speaking now with who sounded like Rae. Mustering all her strength, Jenny held Tommie straight, hearing Rae's booming voice, broken in sobs, confirming Lexi's words. Max seemed to be all right.

As soon as Jacob arrived, he and Tommie were off. Sam appeared a few minutes later, worn but elated. Sitting near Jenny in the kitchen, he explained how, with Liz's surprise return, Max began to move, then open his eye. Only one, but it peered to Liz as her tears fell. Then in a voice slow but audible, he asked about his father. Words were disjointed, but it hadn't taken long for anyone to note Max's concern. Once he knew Tommie was fine, Max smiled, then looked at his mother, finally back to his girlfriend. He asked Liz if she would kiss him, which she did while crying in earnest, berating him for not wearing a seat belt. Debbie had taken Liz out after that and Max was smiling when Sam left, asking for something to eat.

Jenny and Sam's hands went from each other's to twisting their own digits. Then back as Jenny's lungs again accepted oxygen. It had been a long, miserable week, not much different than a year previous, but Max was going to be all right. He probably wouldn't return to school for graduation, but he was alive, his head intact, and Jenny wept in release. He would need expert care, but the Max Smith they all knew and loved seemed to have come home to them.

"Honey, it's okay." Sam's voice swirled in Jenny's ears. Then he knelt beside her and Jenny fell against him, her breath coming in spurts. How Rae and Tommie had coped all week, Jenny couldn't imagine. Hers were only babies, but Max was seventeen years old, a long time to love one's child.

"Come on, let's get you to bed." Sam stood, helping Jenny to her feet. She clung to him, but as they reached the stairs, she pulled away.

"I'm okay," she said, looking into Sam's eyes. "Oh god, he's gonna be all right!"

"Yeah," Sam sighed.

Jenny saw his relief; Sam too had feared the worst. Jenny reached for his face and as she took a step, found they were at eye level.

Alvin had towered over her, but Sam wasn't that lofty. Jenny tried to move from his gaze but couldn't, seeing the release of pain and dread. Sam looked older than Alvin had ever appeared, that man suffering little in his life excluding their fight at the barbecue, Caroline Atherton, then perhaps his last moments. He had asked Sam to care for her, for the children, and then told Tommie he loved him, what Jenny knew of Alvin's last words, his last thoughts. Love and responsibility, not anguish or terror, what the rest experienced. Maybe Alvin had been better off, Jenny sighed.

"Jenny Cope, what is it?"

Later, Jenny would wonder if it was how Sam said her name, all one word. Or was it that he knew the darker side, one with which Alvin had little experience. Maybe it was the culmination of a long, awful week or only some belief, which Jenny sensed on that step. There, as Sam's equal, she saw in his face not only happiness for Rae and Tommie or gratitude for Max's consciousness. There was something to do with her, something Jenny had never noted. Not in the nearly four years she'd known Sam Cassel had Jenny ever witnessed what sat, plain and open, in Sam's gray eyes.

Testing her theory, Jenny leaned close. As their lips met, knowledge returned, missing for over a year. It had been over twelve months since she'd kissed anyone with ardor, but that night as breaths mingled, Jenny realized it all through her.

It lasted only seconds, just one uncomplicated kiss. As Sam pulled away, Jenny gazed at eyes no longer restrained, but some indescribable color, bright and translucent. Jenny's heart raced with a different notion, one fevered but thought forever lost. Mumbling _goodnight_ , she took the stairs two at a time, not looking back at a man whose life had been returned to him.

Chapter 21

Max Smith was moved to the Samaritan Albany General Hospital for only a week, then he traveled back home. While it had taken Grant Schumacher months of physical therapy to recover use of his legs and what remained of his faculties, Max seemed blessed, although his left eye was useless. His left eye and right arm; that limb hung loose, without feeling, at Max's side.

It was similar to Tommie's injury, but over the next two months while Max recovered, he never blamed his father, urging all he met to wear a seat belt. Not having worn his was the main cause behind Max's injuries, yet, he was alive, thinking clearly, thankful to leave doctors and their advice. With a patch over his eye, Max was determined to regain at least some sensation in his arm, but by early May, he admitted he might never use it again.

By early May, Jenny was accustomed to Grant Schumacher's slow, halting steps, which were nothing like Max's. Jenny hadn't known Grant before his accident, but Sam had explained the changes. Unlike Max, who could still laugh and efficiently recall a Seahawks stat, Grant's eyes were dulled. Both worked, but Grant's thought processes were far slower than Alvin's. Yet, he was thorough with a hoe and tiller. With Chelsea's assistance, Grant and Sam planted the garden, checked the hens. Sam drove the tractor, but Grant was handy for simple tasks and with Tommie back to work, Steve split his time between the farms. Jenny hadn't needed to hire someone to replace Steve full time, or Sam, who had taken a break from his writing. The running continued, but Sam's typewriter was stilled.

Jenny sat on the front porch, Will squirming in her arms. He was five and a half months old, eating a few fruits as well as cereal. His laugh was like that of his sister, of their father. With spring's healing touch, Sam was more prone to a joke than before. Jenny thought it could be a variety of things, one being Max's recovery, which she still considered miraculous, especially when compared to Grant. Jenny wondered if her small prayers had meant anything. If anyone would have wanted Max to be well, it would have been Alvin.

Max sported a shaved head after the accident; now his hair was stubby, scars still visible. Chelsea hadn't liked it, but she rubbed his head gently, as her mother insisted. Max's head was still tender, like Will's, Jenny had explained, and Chelsea gingerly ran small fingers over Max's spiky brown fuzz, then laughed, as Max did the same to Will. Max wouldn't graduate with his class, but planned to take summer classes once he was proficient with his left hand.

On dry days, Max approached Jenny's with a primer tucked under that good arm. While Jenny crocheted or minded her son, Max practiced letters, getting to grips with using his left hand for everything. In that way, he was his father all over again, but Max had plans. Liz hadn't wanted to go to Eugene that fall and now it was a moot point. However next year they could move there together, maybe as a married couple, Max confided to Jenny. The Smith brothers were getting hitched before their sisters.

He had laughed after that confession, Jenny finding in his one eye sparkle for both. Max then spoke of a bright light, voices calling for him. He didn't look at Jenny while saying those words, but needed to express them. To his immediate family it would have been overwhelming, but Jenny sat captivated, wondering if Alvin had seen the same, sharing that aloud with a young man no longer an adolescent.

Max stared out, trying to feel where he was. His depth perception was gone, but gazing at Grant's weary steps, Max cleared his throat. "There but for the grace of God go I."

"Pretty profound for a teenager," Jenny smiled.

He nodded, then ran his left hand along his head. "I heard voices telling me to come home, but there was one that said, 'Oh, don't listen to them. Get back to that farm. Liz needs you.'" Max smiled, then scuffed his feet along the porch.

"Oh honey, I'm so glad you listened to that one instead."

Max looked up, tears falling down his face. Reaching his left hand for Jenny, he squeezed her shoulder. "I don't want this to hurt you, but I swear to God it was Alvin."

She stared at the young man, Will on her lap. He had fallen asleep and Jenny hadn't bothered putting him in the house. He stirred, then settled again next to his mother.

"Jenny, you're the only one I've told besides Liz. She said I should tell you. I know it was real and well, I mean..." He glanced at Will, then back to Jenny. "I don't know what you think about where he is now, but I know he's okay. And I mean _okay_. His voice, it was his, no mistaking that, but all right, you know, fine. Not uh, slow."

Grant came their way, his wide grin so reminiscent of Alvin. No guile or premeditation, only what remained in a head no longer together. Grant had returned from Vietnam with some issues, but those were laid to rest after slamming his truck into that oak. Jenny gave him a wave, saw truth in Max's one eye. Then she nodded, taking her sleeping baby inside the house.

That night Jenny was restless from Max's words, Sam's too. Sam had been in the trees most of the afternoon and they had a decision to make.

"Fifty acres is sitting there empty. If we planted it all in apples, then it'd be worth the time."

His mouth was partly full; Jenny had made spaghetti and meatballs for dinner. Chelsea had eaten her portion, now dabbled with her chocolate pudding. Will wasn't quite ready for a high chair, but had a comfortable spot at his mother's breast.

All were eating, except Jenny. She was thinking about Max's words and Grant's smile, then she gazed at Sam's dancing eyes. He was enthralled with the idea of a viable orchard and she found herself grinning as if Alvin's dreams had been planted in Sam's head.

His dreams of the farm and... Jenny shook away other ideas. "If you think that's the way we should go, then tell Jeff Wheeler to cut you a check."

Sam's smile was genuine and Jenny wondered how an ad salesman had so quickly turned into a man of the land. A man like Alvin, yet different, although... Jenny's heart noted similarities that since March, the night Max Smith had opened that one eye, she hadn't forgotten. One simple kiss still dwelled within her, but neither she nor Sam had mentioned it. Those feelings lay as quiet as those fifty acres. Sam wanted to bring them to life. Was that all he sought to stir?

He stood, putting more on his plate, but before he sat down, he took Chelsea's empty pudding bowl, wiping her face, hands, and the tray. Sam did those tasks without being asked, things Alvin had never managed. Why Jenny had cut her hair that day, over a year before, tired of dirty fingers landing in her long tresses.

She'd had one trim since her birthday, but had softened her attitude, would let it grow to her shoulders. Her neck had gotten cold and Chelsea still complained. She didn't like her mother's short hair, accepting Max's, Sam's too. Sam had cut his mane, not as severely as Max, but to his collar, that bushy, wild look gone. Chelsea had accompanied Sam for that experience, watching as her father changed his long-held style. It was 1979 after all, Sam had said. Time to stop looking like an aging hippie, what with his newfound role of country squire.

And a father of two, Max and Steve had joked. Jenny hadn't missed their laughter. They might be married before their sisters, but those boys had no plans to procreate. Yet, Sam wasn't that young; when he and Chelsea returned from town, Jenny had done a double take. Was this the same man?

Jenny did another there in the kitchen, watching Sam clean Chelsea, then remove her from the high chair, setting her on his lap. While he ate, he chatted with his daughter, telling her about lots and lots of trees, which would grow so many apples. Chelsea was taken with the idea, especially if it meant more rides on the tractor. Their interaction was on a different level than Jenny's daughter had ever known with Alvin. He'd loved her deeply, but never had intense discussions with her. He hadn't been able to, but Sam could and did. He was the same with Will, engaging that baby in conversation as if he was talking to Steve or Max, but not as he spoke to Grant, smaller words said slowly. Sam didn't talk down to Jenny's children, his children. They were a family, only the parents slept apart.

A longing rustled through Jenny, having increased over the last eight weeks since testing her hypothesis, finding she was correct. The night Max regained consciousness Jenny had seen more than ever before in Sam's eyes. For how long it had existed, she wasn't sure. She could ask Tommie, he probably knew. They talked often now; as soon as Sam was off the phone at nine o'clock, Jenny said hello, first to Rae, then to her brother. But Sam's feelings were private. Jenny didn't wish to inquire, not even with Tommie, to the full nature of Sam's heart. A heart, Jenny realized, as his smile came her way, coveting not only these children, but her too.

"Oh Sylvia, are you sure?" Through the kitchen doorway Jenny glanced at her offspring. Will was trying to crawl, six months old in another few days. Chelsea was on all fours, two and a half years old, attempting to hurry her brother into the world of mobility. Jenny wanted a picture, one of the last moments she would be able to only keep half a mind on those babies.

Soon she'd need to be aware of them all the time. Her attention was split between this small family and the one at large. Liz would graduate in a few weeks, Max not bothered by his lack of diploma. He was going to walk the stage, something his classmates insisted upon. It had meant the world to him, Rae noting that his head, still not covered by hair, would be concealed by his cap. Long, deep marks zigzagged across Max's scalp, spots Chelsea avoided, lines that would be with Max for the rest of his life. He would grow his hair long again, wanting to hide those scars. His eye patch and bad arm didn't seem to trouble him, nothing to be done about those injuries. But from where they sprung, Max wanted that spot hidden.

Jenny peeked at her calendar, Liz and Max's big night set in ink. What Sylvia wanted to know was if Jenny, Sam, and the kids would be at her anniversary party slated for Saturday the twenty-sixth, a Baxter family reunion over the Memorial Day weekend. The party at the village hall would include their local friends and while Tommie and Rae had declined, Sylvia was pressing Jenny. Not only for the adults, but Sylvia's grandchildren; she wanted _all_ her relatives there, Chelsea and Will as meaningful as the girls in Los Angeles. The Baxters had accepted the Smiths' reluctance, but Jenny's family's attendance was different.

Still Jenny was unsure. "Well, I'll ask Sam or next time you see him, you twist his arm. Worked with me, didn't it?"

Laughter rang through the receiver as Jenny fully accepted how wily Sylvia Baxter could be. If Jenny had known that in New Mexico, she would have run far from the chatty, gray-haired woman. But the old Jenny Cope who had trusted no one was long gone, now a mother of two who had loved a man while falling into a family to which she was bound for life. All the Smiths and Cassels, Baxters too, were Jenny's kin, and even ones like Robert Tucker and Grant Schumacher had made inroads. Jenny received weekly letters from Robert, his last note detailing Dan White's trial. Jenny had written back of the coming additions. Not that she was having another baby, but that the fifty acres behind the present orchard would be planted in trees.

Jenny's life was this farm, her children, and... She hesitated, hearing Sylvia's banter. The Baxters wanted all four of them to attend, but Jenny wasn't certain if Sam would want to go. Sylvia mentioned dancing as well as dinner, that element causing Jenny some anxiety. She recalled from the New Year's party in 1977 how Sam could spin her round, which made her queasy there in the kitchen.

"Sylvia, I'll ask him and get back to you. Chelsea's trying to get Will out the door, I gotta go." Jenny hung up and walked to where her two children quietly slept next to each other. Caressing small faces with her hand, Jenny wished her heart knew what to do.

Over the weekend, Jenny kept mum about the party. It was a week away and with nothing to wear, she could tell Sylvia they wouldn't be able to make it. On Sunday night, Jenny, Sam, and the kids went to the Smiths for dinner, Tommie at the barbecue, burgers and hot dogs on the grill. Jenny carried potato salad while Sam hefted Will, Chelsea toting the cookies. When Alana saw them approach, she took the plate, then grasped Chelsea's hand in her own.

Jenny gave her a kiss, accompanied by a grateful smile. It was only them, a quiet night, then Jenny heard Liz's voice, one other Cassel rounding out the group. Liz and Max joined the adults and Jenny noted how Liz never left Max's side. Where four years before all she could see was his older brother, now it was different, lives so changed.

That evening Jenny studied those alterations. Besides her two children, there was Lexi and Steve's absences, and Alana's tall stature. She didn't speak of Scott, were they no longer together? Later Jenny learned from Rae that after Max's accident, Alana had shied away from Scott, not wanting to find that sort of hurt. Seeing how Liz and Jenny had both suffered, Alana needed her space, leaving Scott devastated.

For how serious it all sounded, Jenny hid her smile; Alana was fifteen, so young. Teens needed their dramas, Jenny allowed, finding Max and Liz with the babies. That couple had endured more than enough tragedy, cementing them together. How funny, Jenny thought, that both Smith boys were settling early, their sisters not willing to take those plunges.

Lexi and Ricky were solid, but no peep toward marriage had been heard. She was coming home that summer, Jenny happy for that news, watching Tommie and Sam laugh. Taking meat from the grill, Tommie looked his previous self, but older. The accident had aged him, that and the better part of a year stuck at the bottom of a beer can. His face sported lines, hair sprinkled with gray that Jenny didn't recall from her arrival. He was forty-two, one son married, another threatening, and Jenny couldn't wait to hear it confirmed.

She saw it in their embraces, Max's good arm around Liz, his head close to hers. Both had short hair, Liz cutting hers in a similar fashion, showing solidarity. They would grow their locks out together, she had grinned, and Jenny thought it pretty and modern, but this decade was coming to a close. The eighties waited around the corner and with President Carter, Jenny had seen different winds blow. Not as many as she would have liked, yet, Robert had made immense strides, and she wondered how Dan White's trial would end. Robert hoped White would get the death penalty and while Jenny didn't share his enthusiasm for capital punishment, if it was ever warranted, this crime might be appropriate.

Those thoughts didn't linger. Dinner was enjoyed at the old picnic table, countless meals Jenny and Alvin had shared here, then at the August barbecues. Her first was with Alvin at her side, a memory Jenny exited with Stevie Wonder in her ears. She never revisited loving Alvin, too painful. The next year she'd been pregnant and Sam had come back. Now he was home permanently because Alvin was gone.

Finding tears, Jenny brushed them aside, as Max's vigorous laughter relieved her heart. Tommie's emerged in tandem, another beautiful sound. Then giggles came from Will who sat with Rae, Chelsea's hoots muffled against Alana. Liz's words weren't fearful as in the past, even a chuckle from Rae, spiced with sarcasm, a tone softened since Will was born.

Jenny looked at her son in his Auntie Rae's grasp, being fed from a Gerber jar. Jenny wasn't sure as to what; Sam had packed the baby bag and she finally gazed at him. He looked so different with a short beard and trimmed hair, wearing old jeans and a plain blue t-shirt, close to Tommie's style of dress, casual and uncomplicated. Yet, Sam had seen to it Will had an extra change of clothes and baby food, and there were probably pajamas in the baby bag, some for Chelsea too. They would dress the kids before they left, or let the teens do it. Either way, Sam had collected all necessary items while Jenny made the salad, and she hadn't even asked.

Before it had all fallen on Jenny, the housework as well as caring for Chelsea. With two kids, Jenny seemed to have fewer tasks, although that wasn't true. Yet, it felt like it; Sam took his share of responsibility for their children, not only hers.

"So, you all going to the Baxters' big bash?" Tommie asked, fixing another burger.

"What? Uh, I dunno." Sam said.

Both Tommie and Rae gazed at Jenny. "I didn't know we were invited," Sam added, also looking Jenny's way.

"Oh yeah well, Sylvia wanted to know, but I told her it was up to you."

"Me?" Sam laughed. He put a hot dog in a bun and took a bite. "Honey, they're your folks."

Jenny smiled. She had brought them to this clan, as Alvin had taken Jenny under his wing. Jenny had been held by both Sylvia and Alvin, but now to whom did she answer?

Not to Sam, for he made it clear, in between bites, it was her call. He'd be happy to go, then he reminisced about the Baxter girls, what he could remember, which wasn't much. Jenny felt as when Alvin had spoken of Lois Butterfield. He had forgotten her name, but Jenny had never let it go, or what Lois had been to Alvin; a lover. Blushing, Jenny stared at her plate. It was empty; she'd had time to eat, her children in the care of family. This was her family, but the Baxters were too.

"Well, I don't have a thing to wear," Jenny noted.

"Mom can make you something," Alana said.

"Oh right," Rae huffed. "Like I have nothing better to do than sew all week."

Jenny knew Rae was planning a graduation party for Max and Liz, the first bash at this place since the New Year's Eve before Alvin died. It seemed appropriate, enough time having passed to recall festive moments spent at this site. Tommie seemed fine with the party's approach, making Jenny smile.

As did Sam squeezing her hand. "There are shops in Albany. We can go over there this week, it's not a big deal."

Rae clucked. "You don't have to go to Albany. I can make Jenny a lovely dress."

Sam's eyes twinkled as within minutes, Rae had a box of patterns on the picnic table. Jenny spent the rest of the night choosing an outfit for the Baxters' anniversary party.

On Monday, Jenny called Sylvia. All four of the Cassel-Cope house would be in attendance and Sylvia was delighted. As Will napped, Jenny started laundry, then enjoyed a cup of coffee with Rae. She was heading to town for supplies and Jenny trusted her to choose suitable material. Jenny mentioned that Chelsea would need something and Rae laughed, planning matching dresses for mother and daughter. Selecting Will and Sam's outfits would be on Jenny's head.

By dinnertime, Rae had purchased fabrics, blue for Jenny, lavender for Chelsea. She would start that night; Jenny would only need to stop by for a fitting. As Jenny fed Will, Sam put Chelsea in her high chair, the meal their usually chatty affair, Chelsea carrying most of the conversation. Jenny felt an ease; maybe things were finally settling. Max and Liz's lives would probably land together and Jenny giggled about Alana and Scott. To Jenny, they weren't much older than her own kids. Then Jenny looked at Sam. He had been Steve's age when marrying Tracy, not much older when she died. Suddenly Jenny was glad Max and Liz were considering commitments. Nothing was broached the other night, but in private that afternoon, Rae admitted she and Tommie knew what Max and Liz desired. Rae had worn a tired smile; the kids had wanted to announce their engagement, but as Debbie and Jacob couldn't attend the barbecue, plans would emerge another day. Jenny would keep that to herself, one more piece of news she held close, like her feelings for Sam.

Jenny observed how he playfully spoke to Chelsea, then to Will, snuggled at Jenny's breast. Sam's attentions went between the children, then Jenny found his eyes. She gazed down, then back again; Sam's easy smile wasn't asking for more than the family he had.

Jenny saw it there in front of her, and it tugged hard, like Will's gummy mouth. He had no teeth yet, was six months old and growing like a weed, similar to Jenny's feelings for Sam, that kiss not far from her mind. The memory of Sam's tender lips burned a fire in her belly, and Jenny stood to burp her son.

Could she dance with Sam as before, only for pleasure? Now she grasped all of his habits and passions; farming, writing, jogging, and... Jenny couldn't look at him; how long had he pined for her? He admitted the writing had stalled due to the farm's demands, but when winter returned, once again his typewriter would clatter. Sam had ordered a jog stroller from the Sears catalogue, due any day. He could take Will, Chelsea too, on runs that sometimes occurred early, while Jenny slept. Every other day he ran for over an hour, returning sweaty and tired, but in his eyes release shone.

Sam stared at her, then quickly gazed to the children. Jenny nodded, aware of the reason behind that pastime. Sam ran to escape.

Jenny watched the evening news in disbelief, San Francisco again the focus. Dan White had only been found guilty of voluntary manslaughter over the deaths of Harvey Milk and George Moscone and now a city seethed in riots. Flames rose along streets, cars set alight, and Jenny pondered if Robert was among the angry masses. Furious crowds had marched on city hall, then chaos ensued, clashes with the police turning violent as vehicles were torched, but Jenny understood. When she left home at seventeen, if there had been some way to make her father pay, Jenny would have killed him herself.

Instead she had fled, running until she reached this village, this farm, her home. Her father could never hurt her again, but that day a jury let a murderer off the hook and the fallout was stark. Reporters covered the mayhem as people vented their rage, but not through simple shouts or waving placards. It was through fire and violence and Jenny wondered if Harvey Milk would be happy or horrified. She knew nothing of the man, but hoped that if Robert was there, he wouldn't be injured or arrested.

The children were in the bath, Sam taking that task, and Jenny would turn on baseball after the news. She was stitching a blanket for the Baxters, an anniversary present in maroon and white. Once it was done, she would begin a more touching afghan, a wedding present for Liz and Max. The announcement would be any day, unless they decided to wait for the graduation party. Jenny wouldn't start that project until intentions were made public, but knew the colors she wanted, yellow, cream, and peach. She had disliked Max's afghan, but he hadn't cared. Jenny recalled those dark, muted hues, made before she had been with Alvin. Before; Jenny thought about that word, changing the channel.

She used to listen to baseball with Alvin's chatter in the background. Now his children's banter filled the room. Gripping the rails, Chelsea came down on her own, while Will laughed in Sam's arms. Alvin's offspring now belonged to Sam Cassel and Jenny sat on the couch, Will eager for his after bath snack.

Chelsea snuggled beside her mother, Sam taking the edge of the sofa. His head was to the game, not as avid a fan, nor as loud as Alvin. Sam was quieter, but his presence had grown on Jenny, much as Alvin's had. Both men had first been her friends, then something more.

Unlike with Alvin, there were no words, the children tired. Chelsea moved from her mother to Sam. To her daddy, Jenny noted, as Sam cuddled that girl. Then she was on his lap, space left between the adults.

One that had never previously been breached, but that night, Jenny extended her left hand. Sam reached for her fingers, a gentle grip with firm intentions. Staring at her baby, Jenny didn't move from Sam's grasp.

Chapter 22

Sam went to bed that night with no thoughts to San Francisco or dead politicians, no resonance concerning baseball or apple trees or the Baxters' party. The only thing Sam Cassel knew was the magical sense of Jenny's hand within his.

He was hard getting into bed and came thinking of her, remembering how she had looked at him in March, his secret no longer hidden. Then she had leaned his way, setting her mouth on his, and while chaste, it had been more stirring than Sam ever dreamed. One kiss had opened a door and now all he wanted was to step through.

She felt the same, he was certain, that night's small concession fueling his hopes, which were still unstated, locked within his head. Sam accepted his body's release, lying on his back in the small, third floor room he'd had for over a year. It was an old bed, sometimes having been shared with another, usually possessed alone. Since meeting Jenny four years ago, Sam had only been with two women, neither for more than a few months. They had been merely someone to sleep with, to keep Jenny from his head. It hadn't worked and Sam had given up. He'd been celibate for over two years and while Jenny's kiss had been small and insignificant, it was all he had needed. There in the privacy of his room, he permitted Jenny into his head. Otherwise she stayed buried deeply within his heart.

Rolling onto his side, now he could sleep with ease, but a few niggles remained. She cared for him, that was plain, but why hadn't she immediately accepted the Baxters' invitation? She and Sylvia were close, those kids a huge part of the Baxters' lives. Sam truly didn't recall their three daughters; the only one he'd dance with would be Jenny.

He smiled, feeling sleep take over, his body tired but relaxed. Was it that she didn't want to dance with him? Why fathers limited their daughters' liaisons with boys, dancing an innocent but occasionally dangerous pastime. When hands were held, faces set near another, bodies merged, and Sam shifted in bed, considering acres of apple trees, then Grant's slow voice, hoping it wouldn't be too much. Grant's presence was an asset, also a way for Sam to assist Angus and Elaine Schumacher, old friends who'd had no idea what to do with their son after his car accident. The farm had settled Grant, provided him a place. He wasn't aimless anymore, and while he wasn't himself either, sometimes that's what happened. Like with Alvin, but Sam winced. Alvin had been different, but only Sam and Jenny knew it.

With the extra trees planned, Sam might be able to offer restitution for all Alvin had set at Sam's feet; children and maybe Jenny Cope. With her name, Sam's body reared its desires, and he rolled to his stomach, thinking of her face, that kiss. The notion of her lips on his and her hand held only that night sent Sam jerking in spasms. He may be thirty-five years old, but it had been a long time since he'd loved anyone. Perhaps that drought was nearing an end; with eyes closed, Jenny's warm smile was Sam's last thought for the night.

By Wednesday the twenty-third, Jenny had heard from Robert. Palpable fury seethed through the receiver, but he wanted to assure her he was all right. His lover Cliff had suffered some bruises, but Robert had stepped away as fists and flames rose. The level of rage had taken him aback, men tired of being labeled as defenseless fags, fairies, and other derogatory terms Jenny had heard over the years. Thirty-six-year-old Cliff Brooks had gotten into the middle of things, but Robert was still finding himself, and in the aftermath he had tended to his friends' wounds. His small town sensibilities had been shaken by the riots, along with the realization he was in the middle of change. History was being rewritten for homosexuals and Robert was right in the thick of it.

After lunch, as rain fell, Jenny and Sam took the kids to town, looking for something for Will to wear on Saturday night. Jenny found a navy outfit for her son, then some new hair bows for Chelsea. As the family paid for their purchases, Jenny felt eyes on her, and looked into the cold gaze of Bonnie Carmine.

Jenny said nothing, the first time all year she had run into that woman. Jenny felt protective of her children, especially Will, who babbled and laughed, a flirt like his sister. People always stopped to talk to Alvin's offspring, both still so much like their papa. Those who knew Jenny were aware of that distinction, but she imagined Bonnie had no idea.

Sam wrote the check as Jenny squeezed her daughter's hand. Soon Chelsea tried to wriggle free and Jenny picked her up, kissing her face.

Chelsea wasn't in the mood. "Mama, down," she pouted.

"All right," Jenny sighed, setting her on the floor as Bonnie watched.

"Daddy?" Chelsea called, putting her arms up to Sam.

"Chelsea," Jenny scolded. "Sam's busy."

Sam put the checkbook in his back pocket, then collected his child. "All right Miss Chelsea Louise. Don't be giving your mama that guff, you hear?"

Sam turned, Bonnie in all their sights. She stared toward the children, then at Jenny.

"Daddy, can we go?" Chelsea whimpered.

"Yeah, we're going." Jenny pushed Will's stroller right past Bonnie Carmine's feet.

That evening Jenny spent an hour at Rae's, being fitted in her dress. It was pale blue with a scoop neck and loose, three-quarter length sleeves. Falling just past her knees, the light, silky fabric felt sensuous and Jenny loved it. Chelsea's was the same pattern and Rae would assemble that piece tomorrow. Jenny said they would both float and Alana giggled.

They talked as Rae finished the dress, the zipper all to remain. After Alana joined Max in the living room, Jenny noticed Tommie was gone. "Where is he?" she asked.

"Albany," Rae said. "AA."

"Really?"

Rae avoided Jenny's eyes. "He's been going a few weeks now. Whatever it takes, as long as he stays sober."

Jenny closed the dining room door. "Is he, I mean, has he gone back to it?"

Rae set pins along the zipper. "Well, he hasn't gotten drunk. But Max's arm isn't any better."

Jenny nodded. Max had been sure it would heal, but so far, that limb hung lifeless and numb. Jenny noted his printing was improved, his left hand now used for everything.

Rae put the dress on the machine, the noise cutting into Jenny. While Jacob had tumbled just once, right after Alvin's death, Tommie's path was different. Jenny said nothing, the only sound coming from Rae's Singer.

By Friday night, both dresses waited in Jenny's closet. Sam had navy trousers and a pale yellow shirt, but he wouldn't wear a tie. Jenny had asked Sylvia if that was all right, laughter emerging from the other end. Sam would be fine.

Jenny gave her children their baths as Sam tackled the bills. Jenny found it a luxury to no longer keep track of receipts, checkbook, or the ledger. Money was treated as before; Jenny was content with keeping a budget. She figured the grocery bill as she shopped, aware of their spending. But Sam doing the actual math was nice too.

Will splashed in the shallow water while Chelsea ran the washcloth along the side of the tub, singing to herself. Jenny didn't know the tune, but it was cheerful, her babies without a care. They had a mommy and daddy, a comfortable house, the yard and garden in which to play. Will was starting to crawl and Jenny sat on the bathroom floor, noting how quickly her offspring were changing. They looked alike, blue eyes and blonde hair, but Chelsea's face was rounder, Will's longer, more like his papa's. It would be time before Jenny could tell how Will's features would develop, but those eyes, so blue, were exactly the same color as Alvin's.

Jenny hadn't thought much of Alvin all week, but there, with two carbon copies, she couldn't set him aside. Chelsea's laugh was carefree, like her papa's. Jenny was trying to initiate speech with Will, early she knew, but soon he'd been saying _Mama_ , _Dada_ , and she didn't want _Papa_ excluded. Chelsea talked of her papa often, pictures of Alvin scattered around the house. Some were from his youth and one was with Jenny, taken when she was pregnant with Chelsea. At Arkendale Park on the Fourth of July, Alvin's mood was pleased as usual, no qualms. With Jenny, Alvin had never worried.

She accepted that, except for her troubles and their small separation. That August barbecue had been the only time Jenny had felt scared, hadn't wanted to love him again, for what it might cost her. It had cost a great deal; she would always bear Alvin's death. But Jenny had assumed she would constantly suffer from her father's abuse and that had faded. She had set that aside, and now, now...

Did she really want to set Alvin apart? He would never truly leave her, these children proof of their love. Jenny had only been intimate with him for two and a half years; was that all? It felt like all her life, which was the truth. Jenny's real existence had started upon coming here, being with that man. Once she was with Alvin, Jenny had begun to live.

Yet, he was dead. Jenny's being had been ripped away, but that was now a proven fallacy, for she lived, breathed, was contented. Jenny was indeed happy.

How could she not be with these two sprites? Jenny and Alvin's babies, but also Sam's. Then she heard footsteps. Sam had finished the bills, was looking for them. Searching for, Jenny inhaled, his family.

One Alvin had left, one Sam had inherited. Jenny's insides melted and she splashed with her son, kissed her daughter, then heard the door open.

She looked, and yes, it was Sam. Not Alvin, a man who had freed her, loved her, filled her with his offspring, but another man who cared, and again Jenny sucked in her breath.

His feelings shone in a wide smile, the way he knelt beside her, sharing his throaty laughter. Chelsea splashed him, called him _Daddy_. Sam splashed back, claimed she was his big girl. Sam asked if Chelsea was done and Jenny nodded absently.

He took Chelsea from the tub, wrapping her in a towel amid squealing from both children, but Sam's voice was happy and light. It was a simple evening between four people, but not the ones Jenny would have thought. Lifting her son from the tub, Jenny nibbled on his face, joining in their giggles.

On Saturday night, Jenny sat with Sylvia's daughter Amanda and her family. The children were familiar to Jenny from last summer's pot luck, and those girls were crazy for Chelsea and Will. Amanda and her husband Kevin were cordial, and after the meal, easy conversation ruled, Jenny pleased to have been seated there.

She only had a few words with Sylvia, who in a light green dress looked stunning. Jenny wondered how much of it was the family that graced the room, tables with cheerful, chatty relatives, the music mostly old standards that Jenny remembered from her youth. Frank Sinatra was popular, but a few modern tunes emerged, Sylvia's daughters slipping The Bee Gees and Donna Summer onto the turntable.

Jenny thought it comical, a mix of old and new, and she wished Tommie and Rae had come. Champagne flowed, but Jenny didn't have any. Sam enjoyed one glass, then stuck to water. Jenny had danced once with Keith, but that was as far as she got, while Sam had been on the floor with Amanda, then her older sister Sharon. Both those girls looked like their mother, their youngest sibling Carole more like Keith. Jenny wondered about her family in Colorado. She had never looked back, fleeing as far as possible. There in Oregon, Jenny imagined she was far enough.

Sylvia had brought her here and Jenny considered the dark February landscape outside that Greyhound window. Then Jenny had met Keith and now he stepped her way.

"Another dance?" he asked.

"I'd love to," she smiled.

She gazed at Sam, his face contented, also slightly tense. He seemed to be having a good time and they had hardly held their children since dinner. Chelsea was twirled by another Baxter granddaughter, nine in all, tan bleached-blondes who couldn't get enough of their Oregon cousins. Then Jenny spotted Will in Sylvia's arms, his small laugh filling the room.

Alvin's son was Sylvia Baxter's grandson. Betsy and Alfred had produced three boys and one girl, and here was Will Harris, the only male progeny. Lorraine had one of each, but those children were Stapletons, not Harrises, and Will's pleased demeanor was a beacon, just like his father.

In Keith's arms, Jenny followed the steps of an older man, not those of an expert dancer. She looked at Sam, his feet tapping, waiting his turn. Yet, he hadn't asked, not that night, nor all week as though they were attending for the camaraderie, but they didn't know most of these people, many from Keith's side. He was from Portland, a number of guests making the drive. Jenny and Sam just had a ten-minute jaunt home but maybe they should be making their excuses.

As Will's shrill squeal filled Jenny's ears, she saw that might be time in coming. Sylvia was in no hurry to relinquish her grandson.

After Jenny returned to the table, Sam was ready to leave. He didn't know how much longer he could sit there, sipping that water, looking at the most beautiful woman and not take her hand, pulling her to the floor, and wrapping her beside him. Jenny didn't seem eager to dance except with Keith, but oldies weren't really her speed.

When a newer tune played, Jenny wouldn't meet Sam's eyes, which killed him. All he wanted to see were those brown irises that told him back in March that she felt the same, wanted him as he did her. He had seen it, was damned certain of it, but now the night was slipping away. If Sam didn't get one dance with her, he'd bust!

Frank Sinatra blared as Sylvia approached with Will in her arms. "I think he's hungry."

Jenny stood. "I'll take him to the ladies' room."

Sam watched her go, his heart in the middle of the room, trampled by cotton heads with bad corns. Chelsea was again in the throes of massive laughter, he could hear her from across the room. The youngest, other than her brother, was in demand by all those Baxter granddaughters. Like a precious flower all wanted to cradle in their hands, as Sam wished to envelope Chelsea's mother. He ached, wanting Jenny in his arms.

He hurt all over. She was so close, in a familiar arena. They had been dancing with each other since 1975, at barbecues and New Year's parties, when she was pregnant and when... Sam paused. Had he ever danced with her not pregnant? That first time, right after she and Alvin had started dating, which sounded silly because they were already living together. Living, but not sleeping, yet after that night, Jenny had been Alvin's. Then they made a baby and Sam couldn't recall if he had danced with Jenny after Chelsea's birth. Not at the washed-out barbecue; instead he had learned all of Jenny's past. Sam looked at his watch, it was after nine. He imagined Jenny would nurse Will, change him, then dress him in a sleeper. Then they would leave and Sam's moment would be lost.

At a full run, Chelsea jumped into his lap, a bevy of sun-kissed blondes on her heels. As Chelsea babbled nonstop, Sam hugged her, relieved for her presence. If he couldn't dance with Jenny, at least there was Chelsea, who snuggled against him, worn from tip to toe. Perhaps it was best to put this night behind them. Seeing Jenny with Will in pajamas, Sam sighed. They would drive home, put two overtired kids to bed, and that would be it.

"You ready?" he asked her.

Jenny's eyes were resigned. "Sure. She looks beat."

"Yeah, her groupies tuckered her out." Sam pointed to the collection of granddaughters now around Sylvia.

Jenny laughed. "I'll get her in pajamas before she really crashes."

Sam nodded, his body again suffering that hefty, ageless weight of loving Jenny Cope. As he stood, Chelsea leaned against his shoulder. Then that girl was taken, Amanda lifting a burden.

"Here, give her to me. Mom says you two haven't gotten one dance. You can't go yet."

Sam looked at Sylvia, her smile crafty. She nodded, moving their way.

"Uh, what?" Sam saw surprise on Jenny's face.

"You two, out on the floor." Sylvia reached for Will, then stood near her daughter. "Mandy can get Chelsea in her PJ's. I think there's a nice song coming up."

Jenny's arms hung at her sides and Sam couldn't tell if she was pleased or terrified. He was ready to just take her away, the dance be damned, until the music began. A slow song by The Pointer Sisters, "Fire" was actually written by Bruce Springsteen, one of Sam's favorite artists. He had seen The Boss a few times in Portland, and this was a recent hit, certainly not for the Frank Sinatra set.

Sam stared at Sylvia's twinkling eyes. She nodded, and with some hesitation, he grasped Jenny's hand, leading her to the floor.

For all their previous encounters, even Bread's moody "Picture in My Mind", Sam had never felt so inept with Jenny this close. Only as Anita Pointer's voice hit their ears did they slowly come together.

Jenny's softness and warmth made Sam dizzy, as if they stood alone in that crowded room. As she stepped closer a dam burst and Sam looked into her eyes. Tears were falling and all he could do was pull her next to him. There she could cry, no one the wiser.

With her head against his chest, Sam took a breath. It swirled in his lungs for what felt like more than the four years he'd known her, but he couldn't let it out. If he did, what then? She moved with him, the dress' slinky fabric right along his leg. Did she notice his erection? For a few seconds he wasn't sure, then she pressed directly against his skin. Clothes lie between them, but as though naked and alone, Jenny and Sam let their bodies merge, the music soothing away inhibitions and fears.

It was the song, so akin to this situation, smoky and throaty, noting desire, hunger, and need. Leaning down, Sam kissed her face, whispering _Jenny Cope_. Her only response was the squeezing of his hand and the pressure of her leg against his groin. Sam bit his tongue to not scream.

All of his previous dreams were as close as her mouth, pointing his way. Jenny stared into his eyes and nodded as Sam caressed her cheek, gently setting his lips to hers.

The music covered their silent cries as Sam drowned in her, long-held passion spilling from their feet.

After three more dances to slow, melodic songs, Jenny led Sam back to the table. From her wobbly legs, she wondered if perhaps she was drunk from some unknown quality in the water, in the dinner. Feeling Sam right behind her, she knew the source.

"Well, they're both out," Sylvia smiled.

A couple peered at their angelic children. Sleeping babies always looked that way, Jenny thought, precious and blissfully unaware. "Well then, we should make hay," her voice a croak.

Sylvia handed Will to her as Sam backed away, taking Chelsea from Amanda.

"Thanks for letting us have a spin," Sam coughed, then laughed, gathering the baby bag.

"My pleasure." Sylvia moved close to Jenny, her voice a whisper. "Honey, go home and love that man."

Jenny stepped back, finding Sylvia's sly grin. "I, I will," Jenny stammered, then giggled.

"Good. The best way to end such a happy night. Now, Keith's looking lonely. Mandy, go tell him I'll be right there."

"Okay Mom. Nice to meet you Jenny. Sam, take care."

"I will."

Jenny didn't have a jacket. The day had been warm and now her entire body smoldered. She gave Sylvia a quick peck as Sam reached for her hand. She gripped his as they left the hall.

Outside, Jenny missed stars, only one thing on her mind. They strapped the kids in the back of Betsy's Buick, and as Jenny got in her seat, Sam came to her door, kneeling beside her.

They looked at the other, then Jenny caressed his face. It took all she had not to kiss him, but before he drove away, she had to tell him one thing. "We need to make a stop."

"For what?"

The anticipation in his voice matched hers and she smiled. "We need some condoms."

Sam chuckled, then set his mouth to hers. Jenny's arms flew around his neck. She wanted to pour herself all over him, but soon enough. All they needed was some birth control.

Before he moved away, Sam offered one last kiss along her cheek. Then he closed her door, got in the Buick, and drove to a 7-Eleven near the high school. Jenny closed her eyes as he got back in the car, their hands entwined. Again her world was ready to change, but this time, no apprehension lingered.

Chapter 23

Arriving home, Jenny toted Will while Sam lugged Chelsea and the baby bag. The adults walked up the stairs, setting their sleeping children in their beds. Jenny covered her son with a light blanket, watching him change positions. Then Will was still.

Sam had gone downstairs and Jenny noted the faint locking of the door. She hadn't seen what he'd done with the small sack that had accompanied from the 7-Eleven, but she couldn't walk into her room alone. That's where they would end up, but Jenny needed to go in beside him.

She was ready to leave behind one man she had loved for another who held her differently. Sam's embrace wasn't like Alvin's, much more aware and alert to her. After that first awkward dance, the next three had been just as before, steps well placed, but had they moved? Jenny heard him get a drink of water. All she remembered after laying her head against his chest was the beating of their hearts, being made one.

Jenny wanted to be one with this man. A man who was not like Alvin, a man who had held her hand, stroked her face with his, kissed her cheeks, dried her tears, yet not as Alvin had done; shy, hesitant, questioning. Sam was in full control, so deliberate, the only word Jenny knew to use. Waiting on the landing, she listened to a house being closed for the night. Grasping the handrail, Jenny went downstairs.

He stood in the kitchen, gazing out the window, gripping a glass. She stared for a second, but Sam was aware of her presence, turning toward her with a face that stole her breath. Tears fell down his cheeks and he looked away as she moved toward him.

"You all right?" Her voice was soft.

He nodded as Jenny removed the cup from his hand. Touching him, love was apparent, Jenny feeling it on his fingers, in his breath, through all he was. He loved her and had for some time.

"Let's go up," she said, unsure if her emotions ran that deeply. Maybe they did and she wasn't ready to accept it. Sam grasped Jenny's hand as though now that he had her, he couldn't lose her. Jenny's heart felt a strange piercing, how much of him was revealed in every step they took going to the stairs, then up, the placement of their feet in tandem. How did she know all this, realize it? He said nothing as she murmured his name, _Sam Cassel_ emerging in a loving, gentle whisper. Reaching her room, Jenny led him in, but didn't think about condoms, her children, or Alvin. Looking into Sam's eyes, Jenny saw great unspoken need, ready to be explored. Jenny closed her door, then placed his hands upon her body.

Sam held her close, wondered if she was sleeping. In the faint light, he viewed simple furniture placed as one might expect, dressers and a chair, the closet door ajar where her blue dress had hung earlier that day, or yesterday. Her dress, Chelsea's too, but now both of those garments were off their hangers. Chelsea's was stuffed in the baby bag, but Jenny's lay on the floor right where she had stepped from it.

He breathed in, then out, looking at the room. She had stood near the bed, but not so close they could have fallen right into it. His hands had been set on her breasts and he'd felt so ready to come, it would have only taken a few strokes along her nipples, which were so hard that Sam knew this feeling was mutual. She had kissed his throat, small strangled noises slipping from him, then her hands went to the back of her dress, bringing down the zipper. Jenny had loosened that ensemble from her shoulders, Sam lifting his fingers slightly, then taking in the ease of her soft skin, tingling under his touch. Jenny's hands stayed busy, unbuttoning his shirt, taking it from his body, then down to his trousers, undoing the fly, reaching for an erection so stiff, Sam had wondered if she could free it.

He had kept his hands on her upper body, her naked skin warm and untamed. As she brought down the rest of her dress, he blinked. Jenny stood in a half-slip, her nursing bra revealing breasts large and intimate. He had seen them how many times, but always with a baby close, rendering Sam immune to any other purpose. Yet, as she unhooked the back, suddenly they were his, her nipples dark, sensuous, and beautiful. Jenny Cope, there nearly nude in front of him, was so damned beautiful!

It would have been easy to slip inside her, but Jenny had other ideas, leading him to the bed. He had stepped from his slacks, still in his briefs, and she was clad in that half-slip, pulling back the blanket and sheet. Then she asked him to lie down, to undress. Take off all your clothes, she had smiled, but it was only his underwear and socks that remained.

Sam had left the condoms in his back pants' pocket, what she asked for next. He had barely managed to get words from his throat, but Jenny hadn't needed much direction. She retrieved the Trojans, placing them on what had been Alvin's side table, the only moment Sam thought of that man as Jenny's mouth enveloped Sam's erection, which nearly exploded. He wanted to scream, but held back, due to the children. Guttural moans emerged, ones he couldn't stop, asking what she was doing.

"Let's get you relaxed," she smiled. "I like to swallow."

Sam shuddered, her warm, moist lips slow and gifted. He had held back as long as possible, but where Jenny was made it impossible to wait; he came gripping the sides of her bed.

He grew hard recalling that memory, only hours old. She had been wise, conscious of his needs. His desires had been hidden for so long, but she didn't know the exact length, and he wouldn't tell her. Now four years later, she rested in his arms, lovemaking occurring as soon as he had recovered. Sam laid Jenny down, removed her remaining apparel, then touched her in places he imagined Alvin might not have often gone. Sam knew that by the way she writhed, how she pleaded for him. Jenny had begged Sam to love her and as he'd put on the condom, her face met his, eyes as desperate as her voice. A small barrier had rested between them, but Sam thought that was best. Let them absorb this slight obstacle for a while. Once he was inside Jenny without a rubber, Sam would never be the same.

Jenny woke to a man in her bed, her first observation. Two men, as she looked again; Will snored softly between his parents. Her little boy snored, Sam did too, and Jenny smiled, slipping from bed, putting on her robe. She kicked the dress aside, moving Sam's clothes as well. She hoped Chelsea wouldn't join them, only that it would be more to explain.

In the bathroom, Jenny emptied her bladder, her lower body not sticky. They hadn't exchanged fluids, but Jenny felt drenched in Sam's love. He hadn't said he loved her, but in every other manner Jenny Cope had learned just how deliberate Sam Cassel was, how premeditated, calculated, and precise. If she had thought he was only that way on the dance floor, now Jenny knew the depth of his intentions, and they had left her breathless.

After washing her hands, she stared in the mirror, finding a woman changed, possessed. Sam had full ownership of her body, all but the rubbers they used. Once those weren't an issue... Jenny shuddered, imaging him stripped of latex. What might Sam feel like then?

The condoms aside, how had he known to touch her in such accurate, defined ways? His fingers along her body, his lips against her skin, his face resting in places so long unexplored; Jenny had come time and again, loosened from months of celibacy, from ages of loneliness, from the memory of a man that while good-hearted and fevered, had never made her feel so fulfilled. Jenny belonged to Sam, no other way to describe it.

As if her whole life had been waiting for him, yet, she'd thought that about Alvin. What was different? Sam had a complexity that Alvin, even at his most intense moments, didn't. He couldn't, not his fault, only how it was.

Taking a washcloth from the stack, Jenny wet it, washing her breasts. Will would want to nurse and they felt full. Sam hadn't played with them for long, only noting those appendages weren't just for her baby. She dampened the cloth again, going over them gently, as Sam had. He'd been gentle in some places, tactile in others. He had made her wait, made her beg for him. Jenny had never begged in her life, not even for Alvin, not the way Sam had made her squirm.

But he hadn't made her grovel, only taking her to a place Jenny hadn't known existed. Within Jenny a nerve had been touched, profundity uncovered, a need never before understood. A piece of Jenny Cope had been birthed that night, feeling raw and exposed, in need of reassurance. How a new baby might feel, eyes squinting in light that didn't hurt, but was unexpected. For how deliberate Sam had been, what Jenny now felt was completely unforeseen.

She was a new person, looking at her eyes, still brown, but changed. She had been loved by Alvin, but Sam had removed that skin, replacing it with an entirely new meaning. A baby lived within its mother knowing dark warmth, muted sounds, no color. As if Jenny Cope had been reborn, now her world was fresh, loud, prickly. Fabrics covered her previously naked body, hands having held her in ways she had never imagined. She left the bathroom, peeking into Chelsea's room. That little girl snored too and a mother smiled, heading back to another nursery of sorts, where Jenny Cope had been reintroduced to the world.

On that Sunday morning in late May, Jenny and Sam appeared as usual to their children. What Chelsea and Will Harris saw were two big people happily preparing their breakfasts, changing Will's diaper, brushing Chelsea's teeth. Will noted his mother's body felt differently, but being only six months old, he didn't know how to describe it, and the previous sensation slipped from his young mind, this new mother the only one Will would remember.

At two and a half, Chelsea was the same, but like her brother, she hadn't the vocabulary to note what was different. Was it how her mama leaned into her daddy more readily? How they kissed each other several times, and not just on the cheek, but on their mouths, as how sometimes Chelsea kissed them. Was it their closeness, needing to be so near the other? If Chelsea knew to be jealous, maybe she would have been, for up to that day she had been their world. She and Will had been their parents' focus, but a veil had been removed. While Chelsea and her brother were still the main considerations, an equally powerful force had been introduced to this quartet, an acceptance of roles switching, and soon rooms. Soon Chelsea would toddle into her mother's room where her daddy always was too.

The only way Jenny and Sam knew to announce their change in status was to be blunt. Jenny had never concealed how she had loved Alvin or fed her babies, not ignoring Tommie's drinking or Bonnie Carmine's callous disregard for Alvin. But while burying other issues about Bonnie, when it came to Sam, Jenny wouldn't hide a thing.

As she had proudly held Alvin close, kissing him openly, she now nestled against Sam, letting him embrace her as well as their offspring. She called him _honey_ , sometimes _baby_ , but usually it was Sam, yet her voice was altered. Now his name was spoken with deep fondness, announcing not only his name, but hers. Sam was her man, but so much more, notions she shared with her closest family, but not all knew the same ideas. Tommie was told how deep Sam was in relation to Alvin. Rae learned Jenny had never felt so satisfied. Sylvia and Debbie knew how happy he made her. But initially it was two younger members of Jenny's extended clan to learn of the couple's altered relationship.

Liz and Max had visited that Sunday afternoon, finding Jenny like a girl around Sam, more Liz's age than her own. While Sam said little, it was his laughing eyes, his jovial mannerisms, his complete release. Neither of those teens knew what Sam had endured, but it must have been something on the scale of Max's accident. The Sam Cassel that now stood in front of them was like a man freed from bondage so tight and enduring, this sort of liberty was unimaginable.

Jenny and Liz had giggled like schoolmates while Sam led Max to the back of the orchard, explaining their plans. Not his and Jenny's, but the farm's. As Sam was one with Jenny, he was inured with this place, and while he understood Max's desire to do something different, Sam explained how coming home was positive. Then he laughed, a loud, ringing sound Max had never heard from Liz's uncle. Always Sam had been unobtrusive. Now he was as near as a quick walk, and so close to Jenny.

Max and Liz decided to share their own news, telling the new couple they were going to get married. Not in a big, elaborate affair like Steve and Marcy, but something small, just family and their few friends. Like his father, Max had encountered those who now viewed him as unnecessary, and as Liz had always kept to herself, beyond their relatives it wouldn't be more than half a dozen kids their age. Jenny had hugged both, never minding Max's dangling limb, promising to keep it quiet. As the babies chattered, it was a secret for those four adults until the graduation party.

On that night, a few weeks into June, Liz and Max announced their intentions. They still faced many obstacles, but wanted to marry by summer's end. Rae and Debbie squawked; where will you live, what will you do? Jenny let Sam offer the solution, one they had discussed after loving the other. Life could be so short, why shouldn't those teens be together and happy?

Sam stood, clearing his throat. With his son held close, he looked at all in attendance. "Jenny and I've been thinking. Maybe Max can work for us while he's still here. We know he and Liz'll be leaving in a year for Eugene, but until then, Max can help out with the new trees, and maybe I can get some writing done."

Sam's laugh set adult minds at ease; maybe Max might give up the idea of college, he and Liz settling at home. Jenny and Sam would pay Max a good wage as they did Steve and Grant, and voices carried relieved sighs, then ones of tension, what with another wedding to plan.

Max eased those minds. He and Liz didn't want a fancy ceremony, heck, a good party, like an August barbecue, would be fine. Jenny and Sam saw the looks between father and son, admissions of love and forgiveness as Tommie nodded. While Liz was caught within the arms of her mother and soon to be sisters-in-law, Rae went to Tommie's side as father and son enveloped the other. Sam's arms came around Jenny, a family finding its way back together.

Chapter 24

That summer Jenny lived in a state of bliss. She had her man, their children, was helping to plan a wedding. She and Sam hadn't discussed that sort of commitment; like what she initially shared with Alvin, it seemed unnecessary.

Jenny shared more with Sam than she knew dwelled in her. Sexually they were compatible in a way she hadn't been with Alvin. While he had preferred only a few positions, Sam was adventurous and insatiable; more often than not, Jenny was atop him for as long as he could last. Gravity was on their side with the condoms, but Jenny favored that position for another reason. When she was under him, those rubbers precluded Sam from remaining within her. Jenny still needed a body close, longing for the days when her cycles returned. Predictable timetables would allow for more lasting exchanges.

Yet their intimacy was noted in other ways; Jenny no longer feared thunderstorms. To all who knew her, that was the biggest alteration. Jenny never detailed her love life to Rae or anyone else, but those aware saw how she no longer flinched at the sound of thunder. As storm after storm passed through, for the first time since the age of thirteen, Jenny didn't care.

She didn't flinch as the sky cracked open, the rain good for her strawberries, the garden at large, and the roses. All forty-one rose bushes bloomed that summer, colors as bright as the afghan she crocheted for Max and Liz. Chelsea loved gathering the flowers, bringing them to her mother, Sam and Will right behind her. Taking those buds from her daughter, Jenny saw on Sam some memory, his tears unmistakable. She had caressed his face, but he never revealed why he wept, only saying he held a precious gift. As Jenny carried her roses, walking back to their house, Sam embraced her and their children. She never questioned him, accepting that love for what it was.

Love was within her house and down the road as Max and Liz's plans came to fruition. They were getting married on the twenty-fifth of August, the date fast approaching, summer days full of gathering eggs, freezing vegetables, making strawberry jam. Will crawled everywhere, got into everything. He had pulled a row and a half of stitches from Jenny's project, earning himself a scolding. Sam had laughed, Tommie too, both in the kitchen, noting the quiet. Jenny had been doing dishes and while she knew the children were safe in the playpen, she hadn't imagined how crafty her son could be.

"Honey, you better come see this," Sam called, checking on them. It was Thursday, the sixteenth of August. Tommie had resumed his weekly lunches, the occasional scent of beer wafting from his breath. Jenny had chided him, but he told her he was doing the best he could. Max's arm still hung limp, and while Tommie hadn't been at fault, he took responsibility. And a beer, every once in a while, to choke that down.

"What?" Jenny came into the living room, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Will did it," Chelsea pointed, her laughing brother covered in yarn.

"Jesus Christ, Will Harris!" Jenny's voice held fury as Tommie followed her in the room, his chuckles loud and chirpy. Will squealed as his mother removed peach and cream yarn from his head and hands.

Will's laugh was like Alvin's, carefree and unaware. Jenny looked at him, then saw a mischievous glint in his eyes. He tipped his head back in rapturous amusement and Jenny let Sam deal with the yarn. A strange look passed over Jenny's face, one of fear, then relief. As she hugged her son, her words were less harsh, happy he had been so sneaky; Will was such a clever boy.

Jenny was eager to hear Will's voice, _Ma-ma_ and _Da-da_ as well as _Pa-pa_ and _Tom-mie_ her litany, but Will seemed unbothered. He only fussed when hungry or if he wanted down. At almost nine months old, he had started walking when supported, becoming so proficient Jenny arranged the kitchen chairs so he could go around the table on his feet.

He wore no shoes, was as agile as his father, Tommie noted. Jenny was finishing the dishes, Sam and Chelsea outside, talking to Grant. Tommie took a drink of milk, ate a cookie, then grabbed Will, setting him on his lap. He had missed much of this boy's life, time Tommie needed to accrue. "Will, you're gonna be hell on wheels here in another month or so. Jenny, you sure about hurrying him along with talking? God, at the rate this boy's going, he'll be outgabbing his father in no time."

Tommie couldn't get used to _papa_ , still said _father_ interchangeably. Will's father was Alvin and Sam, and for as much as Alvin spoke, Tommie had to wonder if Jenny was heading for disaster, letting the cork out of the bottle so soon. Chelsea chatted a good streak and Will was so much like his sister; who would Alvin's son be like?

Would Will be talkative or quieter, like Sam? A boy with two fathers; which would emerge stronger, nature or nurture? Tommie considered that, then ate another cookie, giving Will tiny pieces.

Jenny's frown told him he was in the doghouse. "The last thing that boy needs is a cookie. I do want him to nap this afternoon."

She dried her hands and joined them. Sensing something better than a cookie, Will leaned her way and Tommie handed the baby to his mother. "He knows what's best."

Jenny caressed Will's face as she set him to her breast. "You're a smart fellow, aren't you?"

"Honey, he's fine you know. That boy's just fine."

Jenny's eyes were wary. "I know he is."

She returned her attentions to her son, calling his name, while Tommie ate another cookie. "You gonna nurse him much longer?"

Jenny didn't look up. "As long as he likes. Chelsea quit way before I was ready. With this one, I'll probably be weaning him before he gives it up." She smiled. "He is a male."

Tommie laughed, drinking his coffee, a special treat, as Jenny stayed away from caffeine. Tommie had seen Sam drink two cups; maybe they were thinking about future days when Jenny would be pregnant with Sam's baby. Tommie didn't mind. He had lost time not only with Will but with Jenny, and for all she had said in anger months ago, Tommie wished to hell he had listened. "Jenny, you and Sam, you thinking about..."

Her giggle eased Tommie's heart. "Yeah, I mean, not anytime soon, but once Will's weaned himself. Or after I take it away."

They laughed together and Jenny continued. "Tommie, I love him, god, I do. I never thought it'd be possible again."

Her face returned to her baby and Tommie leaned forward. "You tell him?"

It was how she trembled that Tommie knew she hadn't. That Tommie had guessed brought Jenny to tears.

"Not in so many words." She tried to wipe her eyes and Tommie came to her side, doing it for her. Jenny's gaze found Tommie's again. "I mean, he knows I do. Hell, he hasn't said it to me yet either."

They laughed, stirring Will from his slumber. He wasn't actually nursing, only in a good place. Both Jenny and Tommie felt the same, a baby from one both had loved nestled between them.

That night Jenny and Sam made love, this time Sam over her. Jenny adored the feel of his body, so dissimilar to Alvin's. Sam's muscles were from running, and he was covered in the same brown curls that adorned Jacob's head. Jacob and Sam weren't alike except in that one way, and Jenny loved the softness of Sam's chest, his nipples an aberration, pale and fleshy. She leaned into his body, setting her tongue against one.

"Oh my God!" His voice was throaty, turning to a moan as her fingers found the other.

He was close and she edged her nails along his chest, returning toward those sharp tips. Sam's orgasms rippled throughout him, through her too. Each time he came, Jenny felt it as if they shared one nervous system, as though she knew all his thoughts, why they didn't need to say _I love you._

That sentiment seeped into her as if he wasn't wearing a condom, but every time they made love, he did. She hadn't started her period yet, and while Jenny wanted his baby, she didn't wish to wean her son. That had occurred too quickly with Chelsea, an attachment Jenny wasn't prepared to abandon. Not even to make love to this man without rubbers and as Sam's face contorted, Jenny's lower body caught fire. She flexed her groin, squeezed muscles, all she could do, without speaking words, to let him know her feelings.

That night, Sam couldn't contain his. "God Jenny, I love you! Baby, I love you so much!"

_For how long_ ran through Jenny's mind, those words finally freed. As if Sam's orgasm hadn't been enough, Jenny wanted to set her legs on him to keep him there. Instead she let him move away, but as soon as Sam discarded the condom, he lay at her side, wrapping her close.

"Honey, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

His voice was contrite and Jenny nodded. For all they meant to each other, all they knew of the other, those words had seemed unnecessary. Yet, that wasn't the truth, and there it was, exposed. Sam had loved her first, probably for ages.

Much longer than she had loved him, and Jenny Cope did love Sam Cassel. She loved him with a heart that couldn't be described, the enormity of that notion unfathomable. Yet, it was cloaked in silence, in who remained unspoken between them.

Sam wept and she cradled him. How long had he loved her and had Alvin known? That was a new thought; was it why Alvin had told Sam to care for her, Chelsea, and an unborn baby? Jenny hadn't missed the way Tommie referred to Alvin, not as _papa_ , but _father_. Will's father was Alvin genetically, Sam in every other way. Chelsea's too, but there was also Alvin as Jenny's husband, not legal or binding, but just as if Jenny had been widowed. A man Jenny had loved, Sam too, husband to one, brother to the other, as if Sam was usurping Alvin's space, his bed even. But telling Jenny that he loved her was a place Sam hadn't wished to explore.

It was accepted, but to _say_ those words? Jenny knew Sam felt he had killed Alvin, yet, this couple did love each other. And Alvin was dead.

Sam lay beside Jenny, warm, alive, and so adoring. Sam loved her so well, all traces of Alvin had been erased, all that had to do with sex. As Sam spoke those words, other bits of Alvin were disappearing too.

He would always be his children's papa. Chelsea spoke of him without sorrow; she didn't know anything to miss. Maybe if she'd had any idea how much Alvin had loved her, but Jenny was glad she didn't. Jenny recalled, when her brain let her, and yet, since making love to Sam, those memories were fewer in occurrence and intensity. Jenny no longer felt haunted by Alvin; Sam loved her so completely, there was little room for Alvin to remain.

Only in those words and Sam had spilled his, then regretted them. Jenny sensed his guilt, as though they were having an affair, Alvin still alive.

But he wasn't! He had climbed that damned tree, that blasted cat in the way. Jenny's color rose, something she rarely allowed. Anger toward him was ridiculous; he hadn't meant to leave her alone, to suffer his absence, to carry his baby all by herself.

"Sam, it's okay. Honey, it's all right." Jenny's voice was sincere, for Alvin had made plans; Sam had taken care of her, of them all, because Alvin had asked him too. And, Jenny sighed, because Sam loved her.

He said nothing, shaking his head.

Jenny needed to know, wondered if he would tell her. She tipped his face to hers, his gray eyes rimmed in red. In the old days, Sam's beard concealed his emotions, but now he was open to her, all but that. Jenny kissed his cheeks where tears ran. "Sam, for how long have you loved me?"

Chapter 25

Jenny stood in the same blue dress she had worn to the Baxters' anniversary party, Chelsea in her lavender frock. As Liz and Max kissed, Sam's hand traveled along Jenny's leg. They hadn't made love since last Thursday; on Friday morning Jenny had started her period.

She was done now, her first cycle in over eighteen months beginning on a morning she woke with no clear answers, none that Sam would give her, none that Tommie had revealed.

"I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell Smith," the preacher announced. Jenny was the first to clap, seeing tears on so many faces, her own falling. Her heart felt so full and what her body desired accentuated her emotions. Sam's touch had been discreet, not going too far up her thigh, but the idea of loving him without condoms made Jenny tremble. All knew what the young couple would be doing that night, having booked a room at a Portland hotel. They were driving there after the reception, then camping in Washington at Spirit Lake, near Mount St. Helens. But that evening, Max and Liz wouldn't be the only ones getting little rest.

Jenny's lower body ached, but not from cramps. She had been moody, then Sam's words had hit, but no explanation followed. Then her body reverted to that of a thirty-three-year-old, menstruation returning to Jenny Cope. She was still nursing her son, but after nine months, the physical bearing of womanhood had reasserted itself. Jenny was now fertile, but as long as they were careful, condoms could be eschewed.

As she had with Alvin, Jenny would be extra vigilant until she was regular again, then she and Sam could have several latex-free days a month. Once Will was weaned, they would attempt to make a baby. While Sam hadn't told her how long he had loved her, they had decided to try for a child.

Jenny clasped Liz's hands as the new couple passed. Liz beamed, the vows written by Max and Liz together. Now they were ready to face the music, that of life lived with only one other until death parted them. Jenny was glad she wasn't married. Sam hadn't spoken of that, only that when Will had finished with her boobs, and when Jenny was ready, he wanted a baby.

Great happiness rested in Rae's eyes, relief on Tommie's face alongside a small, unexpected thrill; Chelsea had accidentally pinched Max's hand in a door and he had felt a sharp, shooting pain up his arm, the first sensation since the accident. While the couple would be gone for a week, an appointment had been made with a specialist in Salem. Max's excitement was palpable; even if he only regained feeling in that arm, he would be happy.

More had lain on Liz's face over that incident, Tommie's too, but that day, it was simple joy for two people united. Jenny let Sam lead them from the chairs arranged on Tommie and Rae's front yard, a small gathering surrounding the newlyweds. Photos were taken on the porch; Chelsea was the flower girl and she stood, then was held by Max. Jenny snapped photographs, trying to keep one question from her head.

How long had Sam loved her?

They danced together, their children between them. Sometimes both, then one or the other, but Sam and Jenny no longer needed to dance alone. Those songs at the Baxters' anniversary had been enough, yet, they had one solo spin. Jenny noted his erection against her leg, both aware of what that night would introduce. Imagining just Sam inside her made Jenny giggle, turning to a belly laugh.

"What?" he asked.

His lips lingered along the side of her face, which increased her giddiness. "I cannot wait to fuck you," she whispered.

Pulling back, Sam blinked, then he erupted. "Good God woman!"

"I mean it," she murmured. "I really can't wait to..."

They were interrupted by Max's tremulous voice. "Hey, we're getting ready to go."

Jenny and Sam laughed again. "Have a safe drive to Portland and a great time in Washington," Jenny said, kissing Max's cheek.

"We will," he grinned.

Max was off, other farewells to be offered, and Jenny brought Sam close. "Listen, if they can leave, so can we."

"Yeah, I can tell you're ready for something."

"Only one thing." Jenny kissed Sam, then looked at their children. Will was happy with Rae, Chelsea dancing with Alana and Scott, a chummy twosome all afternoon. Now it was after six and while the kids wouldn't be sleepy for a bit, Jenny wanted to go to bed.

Sam smiled. "Why don't we leave them here? Tommie said this's gonna be an all-nighter and we can come back in another hour or two."

Jenny nodded. She wanted time and a quiet house with no interruptions. "Maybe we can just leave them overnight."

Sam nibbled on her ear. "I like the sound of that."

The playpen waited in Alana's room, Chelsea always happy for a sleepover. Sam would bring a change of clothes before it got late. Tommie and Rae nodded and with a quick _see you later_ to both kids, Jenny and Sam slipped away.

They had taken the Buick, no longer Betsy's by name. Only _the big car_ as Chelsea called it and Jenny had been all over Sam as soon as they were clear of the Smith driveway. It took a minute to scoot between the farms, but Jenny had made Sam swerve, and he had let the huge sedan meander up the drive, roses stripped from all the bushes, used for the wedding. Jenny had written Robert that tidbit. He and Cliff were visiting in late September, hoping for a few buds on the vines.

Jenny barely looked at anything other than Sam and they were unabashed getting to the house, hands all over the other, kisses not chaste like their first. Jenny wanted Sam on her, in her, never to leave. She had made that clear; once he came, he was to lie down and not move until she let him. Sam had nodded, offering his desires of her underneath him, beside him, never away from him. He hadn't repeated his words from last week, not in bed, or during the day. It became a forgotten conversation once Jenny had started her period.

Then it was about this moment, making love, only each other. Sam had been buying condoms so often, he had started driving out of town, a few gas stations between Arkendale and Albany learning his face. At least for a few days, he wouldn't worry about running low, only about not getting sore.

Jenny ran upstairs as Sam locked the door. He didn't tarry for water, just making sure both doors were secure. He took the steps two at a time, then found Jenny on their bed, a sheet over her middle. Sam stripped his clothes, then that linen. Jenny wore only a smile.

"Oh baby," he whispered, running the tip of his erection against her thigh. Once inside her, it would be only moments, but in those few strokes, Sam would note everything. That night, it was going to be real.

"Oh god Sam, please!"

He had tried to focus on other things; the color and texture of her skin, how her breasts sloped from the sides, so natural and real. Jenny was real, was finally his, and as Sam set himself in her, he closed his eyes for only seconds. He didn't last much more than that, but as his whole life flashed, a scream erupted. One from him, and one from Jenny too.

He remained inside her and it had been over forty minutes. Plenty of light remained and the time, seven twenty, blared at Sam. All he would have to do was move to be hard enough, but Jenny still wept, small sounds muffled but apparent. He wouldn't love her again until she had stopped.

His outburst had sprung from deep sensations, hers from words spoken. Then tears, so many of them; Sam realized she hadn't only loved him, but let go. Jenny had released Alvin.

Pain drifted in tandem with such pleasure; she had told Sam she loved him, the words ripped from her body like a heart, one no longer her own. Now her heart was his, but only because of who she had discarded. In telling Sam, she had finally buried the one who had left her.

Sam wasn't sure how badly she hurt, but it went deeply enough to worry him. For a few seconds he'd been terrified until she began to breathe, then the only thing she said was repeated: _I love you Sam Cassel! My god I love you so much!_

Those two sentences had been a cadence, yet, her voice was anguished, like offering a last prayer. A dying soul hoped for nirvana, but it took brutal agony to reach that high. How much had Alvin stolen from her, Sam wondered. To let him go had nearly killed her.

Now both of her arms and a leg bound Sam to Jenny, and her tears were fading. Sam was glad the kids weren't close. Children shouldn't see her so debilitated. Jenny was wrecked, but healing at the same time. Sam saw it in her eyes, the brown warm, tender, his. Finally Jenny was all his.

"Baby, you okay?" he whispered, kissing her cheek.

She nodded. "What time is it?"

"Seven thirty. You need anything?"

She looked right at him, then kissed his mouth with the same tenor as in March after learning that Max was all right. The way her lips felt, Sam was back down those stairs. Only one secret remained, but if she asked, he was in no shape to lie.

She didn't. "I just need you for the rest of my life." Jenny set her hips forward, Sam moving in immediate response. "Only you."

Sam went to the Smiths with extra clothes for his children, then returned to Jenny asleep. He didn't disturb her, getting something to eat. Rae had sent barbecue, some of Jenny's potato salad on the side. No oatmeal chocolate chip cookies were included, making Sam smile.

He sat in the kitchen, the first time he and Jenny had been alone at the farm. Always a baby was close, but that night Sam's offspring were already sleeping, cuddled together in the playpen, Will apparently not missing his last nursing of the night. Rae said he hadn't fussed, Alana and Scott handling both those kids.

Sam's body was nearly limp. Then his penis jumped with Jenny's footsteps. Sam laughed, an erection teasing as she joined him.

"Hi." She wore her robe, but from what Sam could ascertain, nothing was underneath.

"You okay?" he asked her.

She sat across from him, picking at his plate. "Yeah. Kids all right?"

"Both were asleep. Rae said Will didn't complain."

Jenny smiled, then cupped her breasts. "Good thing someone took care of these."

Sam blushed. He'd been so crazed for her after she recovered that nuzzling her breasts had turned to something else, the milk thin but sweet. "Yeah well, you know me, Mr. Helpful."

She giggled, then stood for her own plate, sitting next to him. They shared brisket, doused in sauce, and she finished the potato salad.

They said nothing while eating. Jenny wiped her mouth, then set the napkin on her empty plate. "Sam, I need to ask you something."

"What honey?" His eyes were closed, missing her quizzical face.

Jenny's voice alerted him. "Let's go up."

He opened his eyes, saw hers were in need of resolution. Jenny stood first, reaching for his hand. It was sticky from sauce, but she seemed not to care.

"Sam, I wanna know. How long have you loved me?"

In bed, Sam lay underneath Jenny. Now that she knew everything, his heart was no longer encumbered. All that Sam was rested alongside Jenny Cope; not only a human body, but a man made for just one woman.

He had loved others, been married to another. He'd made a child with her, a baby that hadn't survived. He hadn't made Jenny's children, yet they were his from how he loved her. How he had loved her for years and years, and now Jenny knew. Jenny knew it all.

She stroked his hair, much shorter than when he had first known such joy in her presence. Then heartache, for she belonged to another. While Jenny had been with many men, she had only loved Alvin Harris.

Now she was Sam Cassel's woman, and if things went as planned, his baby would join them. Maybe by the end of the year, maybe by the end of this cycle. Two boxes of Trojans in Sam's upper drawer wouldn't be used until they were in the same boat as now, only a different baby claiming Jenny's breasts.

After he told her, she seemed taken aback, but Sam couldn't gloss over how long he had felt this way. She asked him honestly, having revealed her feelings, the sound of her telling him she loved him beating in Sam's heart. And soon within Jenny, his child's heart would pulse, his own flesh and blood. After Sam told Jenny the truth, she had gasped, the idea of love so long unrequited not simple to accept. Jenny had caressed his face, kissed him, then set his hand on her belly.

"Well then," she smiled, "we better get to work. Time's wasting, if you know what I mean."

She wasn't being facetious and Sam had stared at her, wondering if this too was another dream becoming factual as when Chelsea gave Jenny the flowers a month ago, that same scene in real time, but Alvin had been nowhere near. It had only been the four of them, yet if nature was kind, another child would be on the way.

Sam kissed her mouth, her hands along his chest. He set his on her breasts; she seemed surprised Will had fallen asleep without a fuss. Maybe he was ready to be weaned. Maybe it was the timing; they had needed these four long years, things not always happening to plan. Life ached on occasion, raging in torment and pain. And bliss, as Jenny's rhythmic movements increased, leading Sam to where he couldn't stop. She had been bringing herself to a standstill, but now she too desired something new. She'd had two of Alvin's children, and now wanted one of Sam's. That thought sent him over, grasping her to him. Soon, Sam moaned, his baby would rest inside Jenny.

She woke long enough to pee. Jenny had no idea of the time, but her breasts noted that in another few hours someone would need to relieve the pressure. Whether it was her baby or Sam, Jenny didn't care.

Seeing Sam lying so still, she smiled, slipping under the covers. The room reeked of sex and she would change the sheets in the morning, maybe even crack the windows. Feeling only him had been a sensation Jenny would never again breach. Why she wanted his baby; no more condoms, not ever.

If it meant they had sixteen kids, so be it. Maybe Sam could get a vasectomy, but not for a while. Jenny Cope wanted all of Sam's babies that she could carry. His offspring would be brunettes with dark eyes, not looking at all like Chelsea or Will, and they would be fine. Lillian's condition was a tiny deviation of the odds. The odds were that most infants were born completely healthy like Jenny, like Sam.

Later hardships occurred, mishaps of life; Rae's leg, Tommie's hand. Max's arm and eye, Grant's head. Jacob and Tommie's alcoholism, Sam's great heartache; he had loved her from their first meeting, had lived with that for four years. Jenny cuddled against him, felt him move toward her, even in unconsciousness. He was snoring, but knew where she was, where he wanted to be. Where she wanted him too, a little Sam Cassel nestled deep within her.

His baby would be fine, like Chelsea was, like Will. Will was perfect, even if his father had been slow. Even though, and Jenny fell asleep to that notion.

Alvin Harris had been born handicapped, but his son was going to be just fine.

_______________

Look for _Memories Of Home_ , the third book in this series, in March 2012.

_______________

### Liner Notes

Writing a sequel isn't easy, especially a sequel to a cliffhanger. Devastation lay at the end of _Alvin's Farm_ , to Alvin and Jenny, also to Sam Cassel. All his secrets were bared, except the biggest, his unrequited love for another man's beloved. Sorting those issues while leading up to others took more plotting than I had ever attempted; writing a series wasn't my initial intention, but once I realized another novel was essential, I buckled down and in July 2009, began to write. And when _The Thorn And The Rose_ ended, I still wasn't done.

Again I finished with a question waiting, still to do with Alvin Harris. Alvin is one of my favorite characters; perhaps it was the simplicity of writing him, juxtaposed with his immense depth. I need to thank Stephen King for leading the way; Tom Cullen in _The Stand_ is one of my literary heroes. Alvin and Jenny's love story was the impetus for this saga, yet great tragedy opens the way for renewal, also for Sam's heart to finally know satisfaction, one most bittersweet.

In this novel, I tried to balance Jenny's loss with Sam's four-year desperation and Tommie's agony, a trio thrown asunder by one man's death. But time does heal wounds, if a heart is agreeable to such possibilities. Jenny and Sam have plenty on their hands with two small children and another in the works. And the knowledge that Alvin wasn't slowed from a childhood tumble.

Heartfelt thanks to my nephew C.J., who like Will lifted a miserable moment. Also to Maria Perry Mohan for unflagging support as this manuscript came to fruition. The Usual Suspects played all their normal roles and Brian provided a fantastic cover. Again an extra plug (and hug) to my better half; without his input, these books would never occur. And a huge salute to you readers, without whom this would be for not. My hearty appreciation for your time, and to those offering their reactions and reviews, ta cheers thanks loves!

### About the author

Anna Scott Graham was born in 1966 in Northern California. A mother of several, she lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband and numerous hummingbirds.

Other ebooks by  Anna Scott Graham are available on Smashwords
