 
### Memories of Home

### 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 enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also 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.

To my husband, children, and extended family; the Smiths, Cassels, Harrises, and Baxters spring from your loving hearts.

**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 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 1

Jenny Cope and Sam Cassel lay entwined in solace and release that seemed impossible a year ago. Two or four years before, neither would have imagined this scenario. All that time Sam had dreamt it, but never allowed it as a concrete possibility. Jenny had only considered this idea for months.

On Sunday, August the twenty-sixth, the couple stirred, not due to crying children or sun streaming through windows. Max and Liz's wedding had enjoyed full sunshine; now dull, sodden clouds blotted the horizon. Rain would soon drench earth that was just trod by happy families. The nuptials hadn't been large, only relatives and closest friends in attendance, a ceremony borne from a young couple's desire to spend as much of their lives together as possible. That wedding also ushered in a union for the twosome lying in Jenny's bed.

She stirred first due to aching, heavy breasts as if William Alvin Harris was in his crib across the hall. Standing naked, Jenny went to the bathroom. After washing her hands, she set her palms under her bosom, noting a need for her baby.

From the small window, Jenny saw darkened skies. After yesterday's clear weather, this day would be different. She smiled, thinking of what had occurred last night. Yes, Will would nurse that morning, but as it was a new start for others, so it would be for her nine-month-old son. That day Will Harris would begin weaning.

Due to rain, Sam and Jenny drove to the Smith farm. Reaching the front door, Will's cries were evident, and Jenny complained her blouse was drenched not only from precipitation. From the hallway Sam observed as Will nursed, Chelsea on Jenny's side, children she conceived with a man to whom Sam still owed a sum he might never reckon. Perhaps it wasn't to be thought of in that manner. For years Sam had loved Jenny and that great agony could be deemed enough to stand there, watching her feed their baby. Will looked like his papa, exactly like him to Sam, but there the similarities ended. Unlike Alvin, Will had no physical handicaps. He might later fall victim to one ailment or another; it seemed everyone around them bore some scar. But at least from the start, Will Harris was in one piece.

Heading to the kitchen, Tommie and Rae passed by Sam. Fifteen-year-old Alana gave him a kiss, asked if he needed more coffee. Sam shook his head, gazing at a young lady, not the little girl who had led him across the Smith front yard four years before. Sam had let Alana spin him round, for his legs had been turned to jelly by the woman sitting on the couch, a baby happy at her breast.

Only these folks filled the house and Sam sensed a quiet that would become the norm. With Max married, Tommie and Rae had one daughter with two more years of high school. Soon only the farmer and his wife would dwell here. Sam smiled, finishing his coffee, his eyes again to his lover, his woman, his life; Jenny Cope with Will in her arms and Chelsea at her side were Sam's entire existence. They were also a gift with a huge price; again Sam was reminded of Alvin in the face of his eldest. Chelsea resembled her papa, not a man for whom she had any conscious memory. Chelsea's biological father was noted by a headstone in the physical. And again, unlike her father, Chelsea was perfectly normal.

In this house only Sam and Jenny realized the truth; not even Tommie knew Alvin had been born slow. Jenny hadn't wanted to use that to force sobriety. Tommie's laughter rang alongside Rae's quieter chuckles from the kitchen. That couple had no idea Alvin had been faulty from the get-go.

These children, made by Alvin, were Sam's all through, as if they had inherited his genes, sharper, correct. Alvin's head hadn't been right, not that he wasn't right in the head. He had been born mildly retarded, what Jenny had shared after Sam revealed his handicapped child. Lillian Cassel had been born without a brain. Alvin Harris had been born with one slightly damaged.

The rest of them worked with gray matter precise, all but Grant Schumacher, only due to life's mishaps. So many injured, broken people and Sam smiled both for that notion and the way Jenny sighed. Will hadn't nursed since yesterday, right before the ceremony. Now he was getting his fill.

"I'm never gonna wean him at this rate." She gazed at her son with half a grimace.

"It'll happen, don't worry," Sam said.

He joined her on the sofa, taking their daughter onto his lap. These children had no problems. Maybe they would in the future; as Tommie and Rae came through, Rae's slower gait was obvious, from polio as a child. Tommie's bum hand stemmed from his car accident. Max's limp arm and missing eye resulted from another collision, as well as Grant Schumacher's far more damaged mental acuities. Other scars weren't as visible but just as debilitating; Jacob Cassel's alcoholism, Tommie's too. Sarcasm ran along Rae's bad leg, but Sam wasn't sure from where that sprung, maybe a remnant of her physical limitations. Sam had suffered since meeting Jenny, loving her from that first Easter dinner. She knew that now, had learned it just last night. He watched as she put Will over her shoulder, receiving two large burps. The baby laughed as if drunk, then began to fuss until his mother set him to the other side. He was quiet immediately.

All smiled, Tommie in the big chair opposite, Rae standing beside her husband. Alana joined them, taking her father's lap. The focus of their attentions was Sam and his family, one not becoming smaller but larger. Once Will was weaned, it would only be a matter of time.

Time, what Sam felt was slipping, why Jenny wanted to wean her son, even though only weeks before it hadn't been a priority. Now things were different; Jenny knew Sam had loved her for ages and looking at the established couple with their last child almost too big for her dad's legs, Sam sighed. He wasn't much younger than Tommie Smith, but starting fatherhood so much later. Money had always seemed an object, but now they had plenty. Kissing his daughter's cheek, watching Tommie do the same, Sam's heart ached. The sooner Jenny carried his baby the better.

Sam's nephew Scott collected Alana at lunchtime while the rest ate leftover barbecue. Jenny felt depleted, yet brimmed with delight for Max and Liz. Rae was especially relieved, as rain continued to pour.

"I just can't believe how lucky we were," she said, retrieving more barbecue from the microwave. Rae loved that appliance, a gift from Alvin's inheritance, how Jenny thought of the money, a bequest that Bonnie almost stole. Bonnie Carmine hadn't bothered Jenny since they saw her at the store before the Baxters' party. Jenny laughed. So much had changed since that reunion.

Jenny finished her lunch, feeling torn. She had wanted to nurse Will as long as possible. Yet, since that Baxter anniversary weekend, her life had been altered. Sam grasped her fingers, a pull stronger than Will's needs, which felt strange, like receiving that million-dollar legacy, money now as plentiful as time.

They always said they had more time than money, but that was a fallacy, as Jenny studied the winnowed family in front of her. Lexi was in town with Ricky. Steve and Marcy were at their apartment, Max and Liz whooping it up at a Portland hotel. Alana and Scott were seeing a movie, less serious were their intentions. That duo went back and forth, but not there in the kitchen. Only Tommie and Rae represented that line of Jenny's family.

A plethora of people aging, growing up, moving away. Now time seemed the enemy, but Jenny knew that wasn't true. Time simply _was_ ; every passing second, every rainy day, every stitch of yarn, kisses from her children, kisses from Sam. As his lips graced her cheek, she closed her eyes, pressing her knees together. They had made love that morning, but not a child. Her period had ceased only days before and Jenny was still nursing a baby, one she invited with a few easy movements by lifting her blouse, setting Will to her chest. Weaning him would be a longer process than with Chelsea.

What Jenny had told Tommie just months before; boys were more stubborn when it came to relinquishing a female frame, and Will was proving her right. Last night he might have gone to sleep with little trouble, but now he showed no sign of wanting to abandon what he took as rightfully his. Jenny laughed at his cheerful face. If she managed to get pregnant soon, it would be a miracle.

"He looks pretty settled there," Tommie chuckled.

Sam had spilled their news as soon as they stepped through the door and Jenny smiled. "Well, we'll just give it the old college try."

Rae nearly spit out her coffee as Sam had a belly laugh. Chelsea joined in, more in tune with the adults' joy than comprehending their conversations.

"Will's hungry," she added, rubbing messy hands on the high chair tray.

"Yeah he is. Are you done?" Sam asked, swerving from her reach.

"All done!" she chirped. "But Will's not."

"You ain't just whistling Dixie," Tommie smiled.

As children napped in the playpen, Jenny and Rae chatted about empty nests while Tommie and Sam walked to the barn. Rain fell as the men spoke of more serious issues than the women, but that was expected. Not that Jenny wouldn't have appreciated a heart to heart with Rae, but it was the men's way to bare their souls. After last night with Jenny, Sam had a lot to say.

Tommie was glad Sam had told her the truth. With Lillian's condition revealed, now nothing was hidden. Sam spilled a few tears, his honesty wide, for as he had shared how long he'd loved Jenny, she had relinquished something too, someone. Jenny had let go of Alvin.

Sam hadn't been graphic, only noting she had wept for ages, tears that Tommie himself hadn't shed. That wasn't belabored; Tommie only heard joy that they were starting off free from ghosts and undisclosed desires. He also noted wistfulness, Sam wishing others had that same liberty. Yet Sam only said he and Jenny would try to get pregnant as soon as they could. It would be up to Will, Sam laughed.

"Maybe not as easy as we thought." Sam scuffed his feet along the floor of the barn.  
"But sooner or later he'll be done. God Tommie, it's great, no saying it's not. Having told her and that she let him go, but Christ, and I'm only telling you this, thinking about her pregnant with _my_ baby! Part of that scares the shit outta me."

Tommie nodded, recalling that feeling from years back when trying to make Lexi. "Yeah, I can imagine it's pretty goddamned frightening. But you know, gotta get back on the horse."

Then Tommie laughed and Sam joined him. "I know. Shit, we're not young like you and Rae were or Jacob and Debbie. Hell, I'm nearly thirty-six, don't wanna still be having kids while you're turning into a grandfather."

Tommie chuckled. None of his children were at all ready to procreate even if his sons had tied the knot before their sisters, which Tommie thought was best. Easier to let go of boys than see his little girls walk down aisles. Tommie liked Ricky Shelton just fine, but wasn't ready to give Lexi away, and no impression of Alana and Scott stuck in Tommie's head.

In Sam, Tommie saw a man ready to try again, fourteen years since Sam lost Tracy and their baby, and maybe Will would learn to take a bottle. "Oh Sam, it'll happen. And yeah, you and Jenny have the babies. I don't want any grandkids until Lana's out of the house. Like to enjoy just my wife for a while. Been so long, my God, I barely remember what that's like."

Sam slapped Tommie on the back, both hearing women's voices. "Yeah well, that's a long time away for me and Jenny. But that's fine. I might be getting started later, but hell, now I've got my head on straight. And Tommie..."

As Jenny held Chelsea on the front porch, Will sat on Rae's hip. Tommie studied what in a few seconds would become a memory as Sam spoke. "Even if for some back-asswards reason it doesn't happen, standing right there is all I really need."

Tommie nodded as Rae called them for dinner. It was only reheated barbecue, but dodging a few raindrops, he knew Sam was right. No matter what came, in those two women, and for Sam, children from another man, was all they truly needed.

Chapter 2

By the beginning of September, Will was no closer to giving up nursing than on Max and Liz's wedding day. Jenny had tried introducing a bottle, but Will was having none of it. Chelsea would turn three years old on Sunday, and as Max and Liz pulled into Jenny's driveway, rosebuds were returning to the stripped bushes used at their wedding. The couple noted Sam in the front yard, beginning to assemble Chelsea's birthday present, a swing set for both children. Sam had the frame up from which two swings and a see-saw would hang. Chelsea stood watching her father and Jenny had Will on the porch, that baby set against her chest.

"What'n the hell?" Sam called, as Max stepped from the truck. Liz moved more gingerly, both with weary faces neither Sam nor Jenny would have expected. That or their early return; the couple wasn't due back until sometime on Monday.

"Hey Uncle Sam." Liz collected Chelsea, who approached at a dead run.

"Hey Max, Liz!" Jenny called from her chair. "Weather force you home early?"

It had rained during the week, one reason Jenny believed Will was fighting her. Maybe he had picked up on her fears from storms, but that summer none had plagued her, thanks to Sam. Yet, Will had fussed for days, and a long week it was. He was teething, another reason Jenny hadn't let him get too far. He had reluctantly taken a nighttime bottle from Sam, but if Jenny was near, Will cried for his mother. It was too hard for her to refuse him, recalling how early Chelsea had weaned herself, and what that had cost.

A split from Alvin, yet, that was the past. Having made love with Sam all week condom-free, Jenny would never pine for loving Alvin again. She did miss him in a strange, ethereal manner, one that revolved around the smallest pieces of her life. Seeing Max and Liz in her front yard, Jenny was sure Alvin had assisted in that boy's miraculous recovery. Jenny wasn't certain what she thought about the afterlife, but if nothing else, she had asked Alvin to intercede on Max's behalf, and while he wore an eye patch, a limp, numb limb at his side, he smiled as before, clutching Liz in his good arm. He offered to assist Sam with the swing set, but they laughed; Max's left hand wasn't useful for more than basic tasks.

Jenny sighed as her son gnawed at her breast, squeezing the life out of her. "That's about all of that young man," she said, pulling Will away.

"What?" Sam called.

"He bit me!"

More laughter ensued as Jenny burped her baby, then fixed her blouse. Once presentable, she joined the rest. From far away all she had seen was newlyweds inseparable, how the couple should appear. Stepping closer, Jenny noted different moods. For all her honeymoon joy, Liz looked positively sick.

"Honey, you okay?" Jenny caressed Liz's cheek as she had years before in the horse stall. In Tommie's barn Liz had been terrified of Chad Lambert's advances. Now her upset was more to do with what happened _after_ a couple got together.

Jenny wasn't going to broach it, but saw the same idea on Sam's cautious face. Then she looked to Max, and it was plain all over him, as if he was the one with morning sickness.

"Jenny, Uncle Sam, oh my God!" Liz trembled as she wept in Jenny's arms.

Jenny held Liz on the couch, a crocheted throw over their laps in part due to the cool day. Max had the rocker and Sam sat on Liz's other side. She was just eighteen the day before her wedding, Max that age back in June. Only babies themselves, but they had created a child, something they had wondered on their wedding day and was all but confirmed as the week had passed. While their campsite had toilet facilities, it was privacy Liz had craved while throwing up in the mornings, feeling utterly wasted the rest of the day. Spirit Lake had been lovely, Mount St. Helens a sight to behold. For brief moments the couple had snapped pictures and trekked about the area. But as night fell, instead of making love all they could do was hold each other, Liz throwing up outside their tent, Max wiping her face with a clumsy left hand. In the mornings it was worse, and by Friday, there was no reason to remain. They wanted to go home and confirm what they believed. The next step hadn't entered their conscious minds.

In Liz's tears and Max's pensive sighs, Jenny assumed what should follow, no realistic way for this couple to have a baby, not even if Max had two functioning arms. While Jenny had been younger when leaving home, she'd been far more mature. Not that she was pleased about that, nor was she eager to what an abortion might entail. Yet, what other choice did they have?

Her heart jumped as if she and Sam had a baby coming. The kids had lain down at the same time, Chelsea on her bed, Will in the crib. In addition to the swing set, Chelsea was getting a box spring, lifting her more from the floor. Simple gifts were substituted for toys, for everyone else would spoil her rotten, her grandparents the worst. Jenny could count on Sylvia and Keith offering abundant parcels, even a few for Will, and all Jenny needed to do was bake a cake. She gripped Liz. What she and Sam wanted was within this young woman, only the timing wasn't right. Then Jenny's milk came in. She didn't hear her son, only Liz's sobs and Max's sighs. They felt the same, all except Sam.

His eyes were dry, looking aware but apart. Jenny reached for his hand, which was cool, setting it under the blanket. Sam moved it toward his niece's middle. Max and Liz had no idea what Jenny and Sam wanted and Jenny squeezed Sam's fingers. Then he removed his hand.

"Listen, whatever you two wanna do is okay." Jenny's voice was quiet but resolute. She caught Sam's eyes, felt the smallest bit of acceptance in her words.

"Oh my God!" Liz wailed.

"The main thing is let's get you to a doctor. It could be anything."

Sam's words were borne of hope, any other reason his niece was green and exhausted. There might be another explanation, but Jenny doubted it.

Max cleared his throat. "We haven't told anyone else yet, and to be honest with you, we're not feeling that secure about seeing any of the doctors around here."

Jenny nodded. If Max and Liz went to Dr. Fisher, the reason for their visit would be town gossip in no time. The last thing Jenny wanted was for either Tommie or Rae to know.

It was bad enough seeing Sam's pained eyes. If Max's parents knew... Tommie might understand, but not Rae. "Don't say anything to your folks Max. Liz, can you tell Debbie?"

Her nod was slight. "Mom's the only other one I would."

Jenny nodded as she settled into the sofa. "You know, they sell those home kits now at Dougal's. Supposed to be pretty accurate. We could get one, then go from there."

Max's eyes went wide. "Are you serious?"

Jenny suppressed her smile. He had seen countless calves and piglets born, but Max Smith was in no way ready to be a parent.

"Why don't you two stay here and Sam and I'll run to town. I think those tests only take a couple of hours. Maybe you can give Will a bottle while we're gone."

Max took Jenny's place as she went to the kitchen. While preparing the formula, she heard Sam go upstairs. He returned with Will in his arms and Jenny motioned for her son to go to Max. "We won't be long," she said, handing him the bottle.

"Just let Chelsea sleep." Sam's voice was low.

Max nodded. "Yeah sure. Man, thanks you guys."

Jenny led Sam to the front door. "You get that formula into him and we'll call it even."

In his truck, Sam felt at home, but he hadn't while sitting in the living room. Rain fell as he and Jenny reached Arkendale, traffic busy for a Saturday afternoon. A week ago it had been sunny, the day Liz Cassel vowed to love, honor, and be faithful to Max Smith. Not her first love, but her true love. Of that, Sam had no doubt.

He discounted other things brought to light that day. Not that his niece was pregnant, but what Jenny seemed to think was best, what Liz and Max also wanted. Why in the world did everyone think an abortion was right?

Not that it was inherently wrong; if he and Tracy had known about Lillian, Sam would have wanted a termination as soon as possible. But then his life would have been different. He wouldn't be sitting in traffic with Jenny, heading to buy a pregnancy test.

"Honey, I love you." He wished it was for himself they were here. Instead it was Liz, and yes she and Max were young. He only had one arm, not that it was much better than his right one. Max could drive left-handed, could pick up a toothbrush, hairbrush, a fork and spoon, but still couldn't write worth a damn. That boy was about as helpful as Grant Schumacher.

"I love you too. Sam, we can't let what we want into this."

He wished she wasn't so damn smart. She might not have graduated high school, but then neither had Alvin, both with more common sense than most. "I know," Sam sighed. She was right but that didn't make it any easier.

He parked just outside the drugstore. The oak that had taken the brunt of Grant's accident still bore scars, Sam's whole life turning with that event. He had visited Grant in the hospital, then came home and watched Alvin fall from a tree.

"Listen, I'll run in." Jenny's voice was apologetic, which only made Sam feel worse.

"Honey wait." He leaned over and kissed her, then blinked away tears, wiping them with his hand. The ones he missed Jenny found with her lips.

"Sam, I know." She set her palm against his heart. "But honey, we're not them and..."

"Go on." He placed his hand over hers. It wasn't conducive to sending her away, and she laid her other hand over his.

"I love you," she whispered, then got out of the cab.

Jenny returned with a brown paper bag; she looked aggravated and Sam started the engine.

"Damn Bonnie Carmine," Jenny sniffed, putting on her seat belt.

"She see you?"

"Yeah, looked right at what I was buying. Christ that woman, always a thorn in my side!"

Sam grasped her hand, those words easing some of his anger. He wouldn't show it to Liz and Max, didn't want Jenny to see it either. His father's wrathful disposition circulated in Sam's veins and he didn't like it one bit.

Jenny gripped his fingers, easing his displeasure. "She didn't say a single thing, but sure gave me a crappy smile. God I hate that woman!"

It was much more than just what Bonnie had inflicted on Alvin over the years, but Sam stayed quiet as Jenny ranted, Bonnie Carmine the only one drawing her ire. Not her father or mother, and for that Sam was glad. Fred Hooper didn't even stir Jenny's blood. She could take smarmy leeches like Fred. Bonnie's cold manipulations were different.

Turning onto their road, Sam slowed his speed. Jenny had calmed, but now she squirmed, needing to nurse Will or express some milk. All Sam wanted with her was present, only in another. How in the world had it come to this? Weren't those kids going to catch a break?

Passing Tommie's house, Sam noted Debbie's car out front. Scott was there, did no one realize the newlyweds were back? If the phone rang, had they answered it? Their clandestine return grated on Sam. Yes, only Debbie should know. Sam wasn't sure what Jacob might think, but the way things had been lately for Tommie and Rae, this was the last issue they needed. Tommie was still drinking one or two beers a week, and Rae? Sam didn't understand that woman. She'd always been nice to him, but aloof, even before Tracy. Rae wasn't snooty, that was Bonnie. Rae was chummy, just don't lay too much emotional baggage at her feet. She would take two steps back, and that's all you'd see of her.

She had held together well enough during Tommie's hard drinking, even Max's accident. Pulling into the drive, seeing a hint of color on the roses, Sam parked in the shed, Max's truck blocking the Buick. Rae didn't need to know about this, and Sam kissed Jenny's cheek as they made their rather slow way into the house, despite the falling rain.

For the adults, it was the longest two hours any of them had known in recent memory. After Liz gave a sample, Jenny administered the chemicals, then washed her hands half a dozen times. Then she set to work on Chelsea's birthday cake. Plenty of minutes within those two hours to mix a batter, put pans in the oven. Plenty of time for Sam to attend a few chores while Max and Liz read to the kids as Jenny expressed breast milk in the bathroom. Time to start dinner, grilled cheese sandwiches, some chicken soup for Liz, about all she felt like eating. Saltines waited on the table, but Jenny noted the time. Five minutes remained; dinner would come after the results.

"Honey, I'm going up now." Jenny stood in the doorway as Max and Liz took the stairs.

"We'll be here."

Jenny joined her family, running her hands along her children's faces. She would never abort any of Sam's babies, not even if a problem was detected. Had that been known about Alvin, these children wouldn't be here.

Yet, times had changed. Liz and Max had a choice, for which Jenny was grateful. She still thought they were too young, but saw all Sam felt in his weary eyes and the love in which he offered Chelsea and Will. Jenny wanted to appease him, but there seemed no way.

A timer went off above their heads. "Sam, please tell me you don't hate me, or them, no matter what."

When she reconsidered this moment, Jenny still wasn't sure if it was her words or how she said _them_ that made Sam leap from the chair. He grabbed her with fearful hands, stifling sobs, but they emerged later, as if Jenny was Lillian and once again Sam had to let her go.

Chapter 3

On Chelsea Harris's third birthday, Jenny and Sam's home swarmed with family. A year and a half after Alvin's death, with Sam at her side, Jenny felt able to call the farm her home.

It was the usual crowd, the Smiths, Cassels, and Baxters. Robert Tucker had sent a card, promising presents when he and Cliff visited next month. Otherwise all whom Jenny loved discussed how the swing set was progressing. Jenny heard Sam's laugh. Anyone willing could lend a hand.

By mid-afternoon, activity buzzed as men wielded various tools. Chelsea was in charge of supervision, Sylvia at her side. When Will wasn't getting in the way, he was in Rae's arms until she grew weary. Then he crawled between feet or was collected by Alana or Marcy. Ricky made a short appearance, dropping off a gift from Lexi. She had returned to school right after Max's wedding, but called with birthday wishes.

There was no sign of the newlyweds, everyone expecting them home sometime tomorrow. Sam was busy, Jenny too, neither mentioning a word. So overwhelmed with the festivities, Chelsea didn't breathe a peep either.

That left Will, who only squawked when he wanted down or his mother. With so many extra hands, Jenny incorporated a bottle, and Will took it best from Rae and Debbie. Still he rooted; Rae laughed while Debbie looked flustered. When he tried with Alana, she called for Jenny.

"Oh goodness, Will Harris." Jenny fidgeted in part due to heaving breasts, and Will's cries added to her ache. She also hoped Chelsea wouldn't spill Max and Liz's visit, then wished for a moment alone with Sam. But he was determined to complete the swing set that day or die trying.

Taking her son from Alana, Jenny headed to the nursery. She let him nurse for five minutes, then changed him, setting him in the crib. Sounds from outside were white noise as Will barely fussed, rolling onto his stomach. Within another minute, he was asleep.

In her room, Jenny changed all her upper clothing, choosing a regular bra. Her breasts felt bound, what she wanted. As she pulled a new blouse over her head, Sam entered the room.

"It's done. Wanna come see?"

She nodded. "Chelsea try it out yet?"

His steps were slow, but his eyes shined. Sam didn't possess tremendous mechanical aptitude and Jenny had been surprised he wanted to put it together himself. Or maybe he had planned this group effort.

"We're all waiting for you. We were gonna wait for Will too, sounds like he's snoozing."

"Yeah, just topped him up. And changed my shirt and my bra and..."

Sam fondled her breasts and Jenny sucked in her breath. "Oh god, don't do that!"

Once the words left her mouth, his kiss followed. It wasn't light or easy, but sufficed for what a houseful of guests preempted. "Honey, I love you. Come see."

Sam's hands moved from Jenny's chest to her face. "Okay. Sam?"

He had been staring at her eyes and she couldn't look at him anymore. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

He nodded, then led her from the room.

By dinnertime, Will had given the swing a test run. A baby seat hung next to Chelsea's, both children pushed by various family members. Groups drifted throughout the house and yard as chairs were set on the porch, some near the swing set. No music played, but chatter was a song, cheerful tones from Tommie and Rae and Jacob and Debbie to their children, some married, some still at home. Scott and Alana would start school on Tuesday, seemed happy together. To Jenny, all those near were content.

Tommie's eyes were clear, his voice gabby. Debbie and Rae spoke with Sylvia about the rest of her family as Steve, Marcy, Alana, and Scott talked of sport and music, TV and films. Liz and Max were mentioned in passing; no one assumed the couple would be seen until sometime Monday, the end of the Labor Day holiday. Not even Debbie thought she would hear from her daughter until then. Jenny dropped in on various conversations, Sam and Keith in the house, getting more spaghetti. Keith was a retired English teacher, and Jenny knew Sam was looking for someone to read his writing. She hadn't asked what he wrote and he hadn't offered her a peek. Feeling pressure on her chest, she headed upstairs. She would express some and Rae had already volunteered to give Will his nighttime bottle. After his nap, he hadn't fussed for his mother again.

If her son could be swayed from breastfeeding, Jenny would do all she could to get pregnant. It might be another month, perhaps two, until her cycles were somewhat regular, and while it had taken her and Alvin months to make Will, Chelsea had come easily. Maybe a first child with Sam might be conceived in an equally expedient manner.

In the bathroom, Jenny removed her upper clothing. She itched for a bath, wishing to remove that slightly sour smell, also simpler to express right into the water. Normally a B cup, now she was a double D, and her nipples were tender. She released a small amount, but tears fell; in that same room yesterday, she had attended a different task.

When she came downstairs in a different shirt and padded bra, the living room teemed with people. Sam met her at the bottom step, but said nothing concerning her appearance. He took her hand, kissing her cheek. "Cake time, I think." Then he led her into the kitchen where the children sat in high chairs, Sylvia and Debbie distracting them. Rae held candles in her hand.

"Go ahead," Jenny said, feeling bereft.

"You okay?" Rae asked.

"Just need a long bath. And for this little man to be content with a bottle."

The women laughed, but Jenny didn't join them.

"Sam, you call everyone in here. Then we can get this show on the road." Rae took charge, Jenny happy to let her. She had a hard time looking at Rae, then Tommie poked his face through the doorway. Jenny couldn't look at him either.

Within a few minutes the assembly was gathered, "Happy Birthday" sung. Pleased with the attention, Chelsea blew out her three candles, receiving the first slice. Presents remained, then Jenny would excuse herself. Everyone knew she was trying to wean her son, few secrets within this family. She moved from the group after kissing her daughter's frosting-covered face, ruffling Will's blonde hair. Alvin hadn't been mentioned, but Jenny had others to consider.

Needing some air, she stepped out the back door. Tommie found her, his smile wide, as if drunk. With his bad hand he stroked her face, wetness spread along her cheeks.

"Hey honey, it's okay. I miss him today too."

Jenny nodded, turning away. If he saw her eyes, he might see the fib.

"Come on honey, there's a surprise waiting."

"What?"

"Come see," Tommie laughed.

Jenny smelled the cake, then heard Chelsea telling Will to eat his ice cream. In the kitchen, Jenny gazed at her family, a strange mix of West Coast farmers and small town villagers. Not a single one was blood except the children she had made with a man now dead. As Jenny swallowed that, she looked at the doorway, hearing shouts of _Welcome home_. Next to their mothers stood the newlyweds.

Everyone was excited to hear their stories, but was sorry that Liz didn't feel well. She had picked up some bug, why they came home early. They hadn't called anyone, unsure if they would make the party. But as Liz seemed better that evening, they couldn't stay away.

Jenny offered each an embrace, but said nothing. Chelsea was just as surprised with their presence as the rest. Will was the only one who seemed to recall their faces, but luckily for Jenny, he couldn't say more than _ma-ma-ma_ which alternated with _da-da-da_ and _pa-pa-pa_. Slices of cake were brought to the new couple, but Liz turned hers down, said she would take it home.

Max ate his, then asked if there was anything else, and Rae fixed him a plate. As Debbie, Jacob, and Scott escorted Liz to the living room, Max's kin surrounded him. He barely had time to eat, talking with his mouth full. He would visit a specialist on Wednesday in Salem; right before the wedding, Chelsea had accidentally trapped Max's finger in the door. Now Steve squeezed Max's arm, but he felt nothing.

Max managed fine left-handed, gathering pasta and sauce by twirling his fork. Jenny retrieved Chelsea from the high chair, washing her daughter's sticky fingers, then setting her down to play. Sam had Will in hand, and as both children were clean, once Max finished, then the presents could be opened.

Jenny's head felt as much pressure as her chest. She scrambled upstairs, but this time her bra was dry. She would wait until bedtime to express any more, but didn't want to return downstairs. Only when Tommie came searching was she found.

"Honey, you okay? Max's done, finally. If I were you, send them home with a bunch of leftovers. Liz's still feeling lousy and this way they won't have to cook for a day or two."

"Sounds good." Adjusting her earrings in the mirror, she evaded Tommie's gaze, secrets in her brown eyes, and one of Tommie's that she hadn't told Sam. A miscarriage for the elder Smiths, now an abortion for those younger. Jenny bit her tongue. As she concealed Alvin's handicap from Tommie, she added Max and Liz's news too.

Jenny wore a smile from ages ago, one that said nothing to no one. She had known about Alvin's troubled infancy since Will came to be; now another confidence was added to the pile. Grasping her brother's hand, Jenny Cope rejoined the party.

At the end of the evening, only Tommie and Max remained. Rae and Alana got a lift with Steve and Marcy while the Cassels took Liz home. While Sam put the children to bed, Tommie and Max spoke of Washington's scenery. Spirit Lake was beautiful, and Max recommended it highly.

Jenny was quiet; she was thankful for this very moment. Only months before, Max had been in the hospital and his father had been drunk. Now they sat, two bad limbs and three working eyes between them as if nothing else had ever been.

She was grateful, also cheerless, which seemed incongruous with the day, her daughter's birth having offered Jenny immense peace. While Jenny hadn't noticed Alvin's absence as she feared she might, something else was amiss.

She sighed as Sam joined them. Jenny had promised to keep Tommie's miscarriage to herself. She had also promised to say nothing about Max and Liz's positive result. With Sam, there was Lillian and Tracy, a past similar to her own.

Yet, she'd made no such vow about Bonnie's revelations. Alvin hadn't been injured in that fall as a nine-year-old boy, but was born with limitations already in place, how Jenny justified Max and Liz's consideration. They had married early, taking each other for better or worse. Liz certainly had bitten off plenty with her vows, but was a baby more cumbersome than Max's handicaps?

As Sam clasped Jenny's hand, she didn't notice him sit next to her; she recalled Bonnie's words spoken the morning after Alvin was dead. Jenny's baby might be like his father, a man not harmed by a childhood tumble, but born that way.

Jenny squeezed Sam's hands, then set hers on his thigh. Stroking his leg, she felt him move closer. She wanted his baby the way a child was supposed to be conceived, not accidentally, not a mistake. Alvin hadn't been a mistake, but his condition had been unexpected, his brief life as well. Jenny had never predicted he would die on her. Max and Liz hadn't assumed the condom would fail.

"Listen, I don't mean to be a lousy hostess, but Sam'll see you gentlemen to the door."

She stood, kissing all of them, then scooted upstairs before anyone could respond.

Sam found her in bed, her hair damp from a bath. Jenny wasn't asleep, but when he lay down she didn't turn to him.

As he moved toward her, she responded, letting him envelop her. He avoided her breasts, bound in another tight bra, resting his fingers right below her navel.

"I love you," he murmured, kissing the side of her face.

She nodded, placing her hands over his.

"Tommie left first and I had a minute to talk to Max. He wanted to thank us, thank you for yesterday. I guess Liz spent all day over the toilet, or in bed. Jenny, honey, can you turn to me?"

She weakly shook her head. Then she lay on her back, both sets of their hands remaining where they had been.

"Jenny Cope, today, three years ago, you had a baby. I know how scared you were about that, feeling you wouldn't be a good mother. Tommie told me, a few months back." Sam paused, then with his right hand, he stroked her cheek.

"Honey, when he was drinking he got a floppy lip. I guess maybe it was his way of getting things off his chest, hell, I have no idea. It wasn't easy to listen to, but maybe he thought I needed to know. Jenny, I know you were scared as hell. I was thinking about that tonight after Max and Liz showed up. Made me stop and reconsider things."

"Sam, I, I..."

"Honey, all night I saw what we have, and I don't just mean family. Max and Liz would have that support, but that's not all it takes. Commitment, time, age; we've got the years, but they don't. Listening to him and Tommie, my God, Max's so young, and that's not even bringing his arm into it."

Lifting her nightshirt, Sam placed his lips to Jenny's belly. "Baby I love you and we're not eighteen. We have two children and there's something I wanna ask you."

"What?" her voice quivering.

"I'm a little more conservative than Alvin, maybe not in my politics, but in other things. Jenny, honey, can you look at me?"

She had kept her eyes fixed on the ceiling, but a question wavered in his voice. Jenny turned her head, saw his smile. "Yeah Sam?"

"Before we have a baby, although maybe not before we get pregnant, would you marry me?"

Jenny sat straight up. "What?"

Sam's face held more than a smile. His life sat in his eyes, their lives, committed to each other, to their children. A pledge made, vows taken; Jenny stared at the man next to her.

"Honey, how can I judge Max and Liz when here I am, living in sin with you?" He laughed, then kissed her. "Not that I really consider what we have all that wrong. But Jenny, I married Tracy because I loved her. We could've lived together, but that's not really my way. This's all happened so fast, especially us trying to have a baby. And if we do get pregnant first, that's okay. It's not that big of a deal. But before you get as big as a house, I wanna stand next to you, take your hand, and put a ring on that finger. I wanna make a commitment to you, to the kids. I know you and Alvin were planning that, I know..."

"Oh god Sam, are you serious?"

He wrapped her close and Jenny felt no pain, only Sam's heart, beating right against her own.

"Jenny, would you marry me? I don't have a ring, pretty presumptuous of me to bring it up, then come to bed empty-handed."

Clasping Sam's hands in her own, Jenny smiled. "They're not empty now."

"No, I guess they're not."

Jenny noted her bare fingers, then thought about the chain around her neck, Alvin's engagement ring. She still wore that necklace, Will not strong enough to yank it loose.

"And Jenny, I wanna adopt the kids. I mean, for legal reasons, but also so that when we do have a baby, while they won't look a thing like each other, they'll all have the same name. My name and..."

"Not Cope," she mumbled.

"No. Like I said, I'm a little more conservative. They're Alvin's children and what I thought was to keep their names as they are, just add Cassel at the end. And then any we have, they can be Harris Cassel too. Blah blah Harris Cassel alongside Chelsea Louise and William Alvin Harris Cassel."

As those words entered her head, Jenny's heart pressed as close to Sam's as she could make them. Then she nodded, her mouth claimed by Sam's. His proposal was answered with her kiss, one of fevered agreement.

Chapter 4

Jenny and members of her extended family dreamed that night. Some were of spans that pre-dated Jenny herself, but most detailed what had occurred since the spring of 1975, when Jenny Cope came to Arkendale.

Alvin Harris figured prominently and he was always normal, if normal meant like the rest of them. Alvin had been the same all his life, all anyone remembered. Even Tommie Smith felt Alvin was Alvin, until after Alvin fell.

In Tommie's dream, Alvin was swinging from branches of the beech tree. He was dead, Tommie knew, but otherwise fine.

There was no other way to describe Alvin other than by a colloquial phrase which sounded undignified. Alvin was right in the head, playing with a full deck, had all his ducks in a row. Even with the injury, Alvin had more ducks lined up than many, but there, dangling from those lower beech branches, Alvin was perfectly normal.

Tommie hated thinking of his friend that way and wished for a beer. Then he wanted to slap himself, seeing Alvin laughing at him.

"Tommie, I tell you, a beer's the last thing you need."

"Hell, I know that. What'n the world are you doing anyway?"

"Oh, just hanging around."

Tommie laughed and Alvin busted up too. He swung around the branch, finding the ground with both feet. Then Tommie grew still, wishing that was how Alvin had landed on that snowy March day only last year.

Alvin gently slapped Tommie's shoulder. "See, I told you it would be okay for Sam and Jenny."

Looking at the rose bushes, Alvin sat on the grass, an array of colors blooming, but not the hues Robert had chosen. All forty-one bushes were either green or gray.

"Like the blanket she made for me," Alvin said. "Aren't they pretty?"

"Alvin, what the hell?"

Tommie sat on the ground, but it was freezing, like the day Alvin died. Tommie stood, but Alvin didn't seem bothered.

"Sit down Tommie, just for a minute."

"Alvin, it's cold as hell down there!"

"Not where I am."

Tommie chose a spot right next to Alvin, much nicer than the foot away Tommie had first selected. Was that the exact spot where Alvin had broken his neck? "Alvin, where are you now?"

"I'm pretty close, but stuff's coming and you're gonna need to lay off the sauce, you understand?"

This man was level-headed, all his ducks lined up single-file.

"What now?" Tommie sighed, unsure if to take this seriously.

"The next year, well, more than a year, it's gonna be pretty messed up. For you all, people north, far away too. Tommie, you need to promise me..."

Alvin had spoken those words to Sam on the snowy ground, a request Sam had fulfilled. Tommie had kept one too, never telling Jenny what Alvin said in the ambulance, that she and Sam belonged together. No matter how drunk Tommie had been, that stayed buried.

"Alvin, I've kept my mouth shut about Jenny and Sam, but they're together, so..."

"I know and Tommie, believe me, that's for the best. For Jenny, for all of you."

Tommie stood, even though the earth had felt good. "Alvin..."

He wanted to see those ocean-blue eyes, but Alvin stared straight ahead. "There's still stuff that needs attending. Not just Jenny and the kids, but other things, other people. I want you to promise me that you won't get drunk."

Tommie laughed, then bent over, trying to catch his breath. Max's accident had mostly dried him out, but still brought him to a beer every once in a while. Not even AA was enough to keep him fully sober. Now here was Alvin, who caused Tommie's problem in the first place, demanding Tommie's abstinence! What could top that?

Alvin stood, gazing toward Tommie's house, the village and beyond. Then Alvin looked Tommie's way as he had while lying on the ground. His eyes were so blue that Tommie shook.

"Jesus Christ Alvin, what'n the hell's coming?"

"Tommie, please. You promise me you won't take another drink?"

If there was a way to stop that moment forever, Tommie might consider it. There with a man he loved and saw daily in two small children, Tommie felt at peace. Was it those eyes, or Alvin's tenor, that of a normal adult? Was it how he offered compassion, not judgment? "Alvin, I, I..."

"Tommie, please?"

"Alvin, I love you! I never got to tell you, but you told me and then, oh goddamnit, you stupid bastard, then you were dead!"

Tommie didn't hit the ground only because Alvin held him upright. "I know. Oh Tommie, it's okay. It's really okay."

When Tommie woke to use the bathroom, he was clutching his wife, Rae snoring loudly. Disentangling himself, he got out of bed, then sat on the toilet for the longest time. No matter how he tried, Tommie couldn't shake that dream.

As Debbie curled in a heap alongside her daughter's coffin, cold fingers reached for her, and Debbie let out a shriek.

Turning, she saw her eldest child sitting straight up, looking blue. "Mom, it's okay. Mom, you hear me?"

Debbie had never felt so far away from her family, from her husband, not even during Jacob's heaviest drinking. Her baby girl was dead, but was speaking to her. What had gone wrong, why was Liz cold? And why had Debbie been sitting on the floor?

"Liz, oh my God! Honey, are you, are you..."

"Mom, it's okay, really. I see Grandma and Alvin and all kinds of people but I need you to do something for me."

Debbie went to her knees, trying to embrace her child.

"No Mom, don't. Please?"

"Why baby? Liz, what is it?"

The girl sighed, sweeping long curls from her face. Debbie noticed Liz's lengthy hair, not short like now. Both Max and Liz had worn the same hairstyle after Max's accident. "Where's Max?" Debbie asked.

"Mom, please, I need to tell you something."

"Sure honey. What is it?"

Liz sat up, pulling her knees close. She looked down at her feet, which were bare, then gazed into the dark room, what Debbie found strange. It was dark, but she could see her daughter perfectly. "Mom, Max and I made a decision, and it was for the best. You know that, right?"

Debbie nodded. "Yeah honey, I know."

"Mom, he wasn't supposed to make it, wasn't supposed come out of that coma. Max wasn't supposed to survive."

"Liz, what does that have to do with you?"

"Mom, oh goodness! I'm taking his place. I love him and..."

" _No!"_ Debbie screamed, then stood, shaking her daughter. Debbie recoiled, her fingers numb. Liz's body was frozen.

"It was the only way. I love him and I'd do anything for him. Mom, please, I want you to tell him for me, tell him I love him, tell him I'm sorry that everything turned out so screwed up."

"Baby, oh my God! Listen Lizzie, please. This's all a mistake. We can fix this. You just come out of there right now, come home with me. You're just cold baby. Let's get you warmed up and it'll be just fine Lizzie, just fine."

Debbie trembled from the still numbing touch of her daughter's icy body. Liz's green eyes were like Max's, grey and stripped of their sparkle. As Liz hugged her legs, shaking her head back and forth, all Debbie wanted was to wake up. This wasn't real, it couldn't be real. Her daughter was pregnant, not exactly what Debbie wished. Nor was the idea of an abortion palatable, but anything was better than Liz dead.

The girl looked at her mother. "Mom, do you get it? Do you understand?"

"What?" Debbie cried. Nothing made sense. All she wanted was to be awake.

"Mom, things could be worse. They could be so much worse."

As Liz spoke, Debbie could feel her fingers again. After Chelsea's party, Liz and Max had told her about the baby, also about not wanting to keep it. Debbie had been gutted, but in another context, what Liz and Max desired didn't seem as dreadful.

Debbie Cassel woke to her husband's loud snores, her heart racing. Getting up, she put on a robe, then stepped into the hallway. Scott's drones weren't as thunderous as his father's, but Max Smith could wake the dead.

The dead; Max and Liz had spent the night, which Jacob had found odd. Didn't newlyweds want to be _alone_?

Not one sick as a dog, Debbie had retorted, taking their daughter a large bowl. Debbie wanted to hear that child's breathing, not the noisy logs stirred by all the males in the house. She poked open Liz's former bedroom door, saw Max against the wall, Liz lying quietly, facing her mother.

Creeping into the room, Debbie saw the bowl was empty. Her daughter was resting, and Debbie moved short stray curls from Liz's face, then sat next to the bed. Liz reached down and Debbie clutched her warm hand, using their clasped fingers to wipe her tears.

Chelsea Harris was only three, but she dreamed, mostly of her mother and father and Will. Sometimes the rest of their family, usually Uncle Tommie or Aunt Rae, or Max, Liz, or Alana. That night Chelsea dreamed of her papa.

Chelsea loved that tall, blonde man who took her for walks and snuck cookies from the cookie jar. Her papa loved playing with both children, but when Chelsea dreamed of her papa, Will usually wasn't interested.

Which left Chelsea and this man who spoke slowly so she could understand. He never got mad at her, not like her mama and daddy, although now that she was three, Chelsea was beginning to understand _why_ they became angry if she chased the chickens, if she pinched Will or hid one of his favorite toys. Sometimes she got a spank, not hard, but on her bottom either her mommy or daddy's hand would land. Already at three, Chelsea had learned that when she was spanked, there was a reason.

Yet her papa never spanked her. He never caught her doing something that might call for a spanking either, and Chelsea giggled. "Papa, you have a present for me?"

"I do, Chelsea. I sure do."

They sat on the grass under the beech tree. Chelsea's papa liked to sit there and stroke the yellow tabby that always came to him with a sad _meow_.

"Why's that kitty sad?" she asked.

"It was naughty Chelsea. But people don't spank animals. They don't know any better."

"Oh. I get a spank sometimes."

"I know you do. You know why?"

Chelsea stroked the kitty, who then lay in front of them. "No."

Her papa laughed. "Oh now Chelsea, I don't think that's true."

She looked at the sky. It was blue, she was just learning her colors. "Well..."

He laughed, then kissed her. "If you keep your hands off your brother's toys and stop bothering the chickens, you won't be getting a swat."

"Oh," she said.

"Chelsea, in a few months things are gonna change. Not a lot, only a little. Your name is going to be different."

She looked up, seeing eyes the same color as the sky. "I have blue eyes too." Then she smiled. "How's my name gonna change?"

He smiled, then stroked her hair. "You'll still be Chelsea Louise, but not just Chelsea Harris. Chelsea Louise Harris Cassel. You're going to get one extra name."

"Oh." She looked up again. "Do I have blue eyes like yours?"

Her papa stood, then put out his hand. Chelsea grasped it, following him back to the house. She took the steps all by herself, but was still much shorter than this man, who was as tall as the sky. "Papa, are my eyes like yours?"

"Oh yeah honey, you have beautiful blue eyes."

"Well, that's good. Mama says I look just like you."

Her papa laughed, then kissed her cheek. "Well, maybe. But I think you're as pretty as your mama. Remember that Chelsea. You'll always be as lovely as your mommy."

When Chelsea woke, she felt taller. Forgetting her new box spring mattress, Chelsea assumed she had grown overnight. Turning to her side, she pulled the orange, purple, and cream afghan near her head. She heard Will's small snores and happy sounds from her mommy and daddy's room. Forgetting her dream, Chelsea fell asleep to their cheerful voices.

Jenny's dream initially took place in Georgia, then Florida, moving westward to New Mexico. She had forgotten much of that landscape, how blue was the sky in color and continuity, but not the blue of Alvin's eyes. Those eyes led her around the states, revisiting old boyfriends who were not much changed from when Jenny had been with them. Alan still brought vulnerable women to his ramshackle bungalow and by the time Jenny and Alvin reached Tony in Las Cruces, Jenny was near tears. Alvin helped her locate the Elton John and Joni Mitchell cassettes, and together they caught a bus for Oregon.

Jenny wept; he was so familiar, so well, that healed, whole man who told her so many things she couldn't keep track. Things were going to get hard, he repeated time and again, and she needed to remind Tommie to stay sober. That made Jenny laugh out loud and people on the bus turned their way.

"Honey, I'm serious. You need to remind him, as I'm sure he'll forget."

"You've told him this?"

"Yeah, earlier tonight."

"Alvin, you've been with me all night."

"Not all night," he smiled.

She blushed, having made love with Sam earlier that evening. Upon waking, Jenny had felt him close and hard, and she had climbed on top of him, rousing him from sleep.

"Jenny, if nothing else, just remember to tell Tommie not to drink."

"Okay."

They sat for what to Jenny felt like more than one night, longer than the ride from Las Cruces to Arkendale with Sylvia in 1975. Alvin hadn't visited Jenny like this since his death eighteen months ago, when he told her their baby would be fine. "Alvin, how'd you know about Will?"

He stared out the window and didn't turn to her. "Like this Jenny. I knew from a dream."

"Who told you?"

"That's not important."

"Alvin, before, I mean, when you died, you said something in addition to our baby. You whispered something to me. What was it?"

Lights approached, the town just ahead. Alvin leaned toward her ear, his voice soothing. As they pulled into the station, he stood, getting in the line of people waiting to depart.

She stood, but he motioned for her to sit. "Jenny, this isn't your stop."

"Alvin, it's Arkendale. I live here."

"No Jenny. You need to stay on the bus. This's only for those of us already gone."

"Alvin, wait! Wait for me!"

She attempted to move, but an afghan fell on her lap. She tried to lift it off, but another she had made landed on the pile. The last one keeping her in that seat was the muted throw she had crocheted for Max. Jenny fought that dark afghan, but got nowhere, feeling trapped.

She stared out the window, seeing Alvin next to his parents, his brother Adam, and Maisie Cassel, who smiled. Jenny could make out her words: _Say hello to Sam and Jacob for me!_

Jenny sat up, a chill running through her. Sam was turned to his left and she wrapped herself around him, listening to the quiet noises of her slumbering family.

Keith Baxter rarely dreamed except when his wife was visiting her sister in New Mexico or their daughters in Los Angeles. That night Sylvia snored softly by Keith's side, but Sam Cassel's words stirred Keith's brain.

It wasn't that Sam's prose was flawless. He had given Keith a few chapters of what Sam had said was fiction. Written in third person, the main characters had different names, but Keith was certain, after only a few paragraphs, Sam had written about himself and Jenny.

The tone was Sam's true voice, a man in love, but haunted for a time, or at least initially. Keith used a red pencil to mark the few spelling and grammatical changes, Sam's typing neat and legible. As Keith turned pages, he used the pen more frequently, crossing large X's through entire paragraphs. Why, Keith wasn't sure. It wasn't the quality, but the context. In Sam's voice, Jenny was changing.

He still loved her, but Jenny had turned inward, cloistering herself. Keith continued, yet the font was difficult to discern, and he went for his glasses. There, in his kitchen, sat Alvin Harris, with Sylvia, chatting over coffee.

"Oh honey, looked who popped in. You remember Alvin, don't you?"

Keith nodded, but didn't offer his hand. "How are you Alvin?"

"I'm fine Mr. Baxter. Just fine."

Keith felt odd being addressed that way. All of Jenny's family, which was now his and Sylvia's family, called him Keith, or Grandpa, but that was only Chelsea. "Call me Keith," he said, sitting next to his wife.

"All right, Keith."

Sylvia stood, pouring her husband a cup of coffee, then taking a seat on Alvin's other side. She was still next to Keith, but space came between them. Keith drank his coffee, but it was cool. Everything seemed odd, from Sam's assumptions about Jenny to Alvin Harris in Keith's kitchen to the tepid liquid in his mug. Sylvia always had hot, steaming coffee for him.

Nothing was said, but Keith wanted to leave, needed to read the end of Sam's writing to learn why Jenny had changed. Yet, the typing had been so small, he couldn't make out the words. "Sylvia, you've got your glasses. Maybe you can help me."

"What is it, Mr. Baxter?"

Alvin sounded different to Keith. Older, or was it only that his head was on straight? "Uh well, it's Sam's writing. It's uh, getting smaller."

Alvin sighed. "Pretty soon it will disappear."

"What do you mean, disappear?" Keith asked.

Sylvia stood, leaving the men alone.

"Sylvia?" Keith called.

"Mr. Baxter, pretty soon Sam won't be writing. I guess if you want to give him back his chapters, you should do it, if you can't read them."

"No, I mean, I can read it, except that the type keeps shrinking."

Alvin stood, finishing his coffee. "Please tell Sylvia she makes a great cup of joe."

Alvin headed out the doorway and Keith tried to follow, but by the time he reached the front porch, Alvin was gone. Keith raced down the steps, glancing at both ends of the sidewalk, but there was no sign of him.

Returning to his house, he felt an unsettled quiet. Taking his chair, Keith decided to give Sam's work one more look. This time, the pages were blank.

Then hands wrapped around him, his wife's hands. Keith had heard her get up for the bathroom, then had fallen asleep before she returned. He rolled over and gripped her.

"Honey, what is it?" Sylvia asked.

Warm lips reached his skin. "I need to check something. I'll be right back."

He crawled from bed, hearing her roll onto her side. In their living room, Sam's chapters waited, pages Keith hadn't even read. Sam had just given them to him that night at Chelsea's party and Keith had planned to look through them in the coming week. Turning on the small light, he sat in his chair, gazing at the sheets. The typing was all the same size and skimming a few lines, Keith noted a family comprised of a man, woman, and child.

He didn't read anymore, walking back to his room, getting into bed. Sylvia waited and while Keith was exhausted, instead he found consolation in his wife's easy touches and gentle words. After they made love, Keith went back to sleep, not remembering another single dream.

Chapter 5

Chelsea's birthday celebrations lasted as long as the cake did, which was until Thursday when Tommie came for lunch. Rae was feeling a touch under the weather and her absence was missed by Jenny, only in that Will so readily went to his Auntie Rae's arms.

After the meal, a bottle was administered by Tommie. Will fussed, then surrendered, and Jenny stayed out of the kitchen until the baby had finished half. Her breasts were still tender, but the immense pressure had lessened, and Jenny hoped this time next week Will could sit in her arms with that rubber nipple in his mouth. So far, that joy wasn't imminent.

Only from Sam, when it was the four of them, would Will take a bottle. Jenny recalled that at nine months, Chelsea carted her own bottles around the house, Alvin feeding her at night. If Will wasn't set in someone's arms, he wouldn't touch the formula.

He wasn't old enough for a cup and Jenny and Sam had discussed it extensively; they wanted to achieve a pregnancy soon. Will was being stubborn, like his papa, Jenny declared, and Sam smiled, which usually led them to each other's arms. After the children had gone to bed, the couple had these conversations, easy to go from words about their headstrong son to each other, hoping to make another.

Which roused more giggles as they made love; one obstinate child would precede another perhaps, Sam already speaking of another boy. As much as Alvin had wanted daughters, Sam preferred sons.

Jenny considered that, seeing how Sam stood over Tommie's shoulder as Will guzzled the formula. Once he accepted the bottle, it only took moments for the liquid to disappear. Chelsea sat in her high chair, but they were ready to move her to a tall seat, one Tommie brought with him, used by all four Smith children. Chelsea could be pulled right to the table like her parents, not set back like her baby brother. If Jenny did get pregnant, Chelsea's high chair would be put to use once again.

After Will was finished, Sam took him while Tommie stood, looking for dessert. Will belched as Jenny sliced the last of the cake, small pieces that would be topped up with oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. Tommie had Chelsea on his lap and Will sat with his father as the adults ate and gossiped. Max and Liz hadn't learned anything new at the specialist in Salem yesterday, but were taking off for the weekend, trying to make up for the dismal honeymoon.

Jenny nodded as Chelsea smeared frosting on Tommie's plate. "Chelsea, don't do that."

"I think they're going to Portland," Tommie smiled, watching Chelsea.

"Chelse," Sam's voice raised at the end.

She looked at her parents. "Will I get a spank?"

Tommie laughed. "For tasting the last of your birthday cake? I don't think so."

"If you don't keep those fingers off of other people's plates you might." Jenny's smile was forced, but Chelsea had seen it, showing her own as she put messy digits in her mouth. They emerged clean, then she hopped off Tommie's lap, going to her mother.

"See, all gone!" she announced.

Jenny took her on her lap. "You're a good girl Chelse."

Tommie chuckled. "They ask you about any good places to go Sam?"

The couple exchanged glances, then Jenny toted her daughter to the sink.

"I told them some cheap burger joints," Sam smiled. "About all I ate up there."

The banter was good natured, then Tommie took his leave. He would have stayed longer, but Rae was his excuse, and the last piece of cake went with him, a peace offering, he laughed. "She won't let me in the house if I don't bring this with me."

Jenny's smile felt taped to her mouth, silencing the true nature of the newlyweds' visit north. She and Sam walked Tommie to the door; he balanced the paper plate in his good hand, waving goodbye to them with his right.

Sam stood with Will as Tommie drove away. Jenny took Chelsea to the couch, snuggling under the green and gray throw that rested along the back of the sofa. Jenny felt cold, but the day was sunny, a lovely early autumn afternoon. Sam joined her, but kept Will in his arms. That boy might have a belly full of formula, but this was the sort of moment that previously Jenny would have nursed him. Will seemed aware something was amiss, but Sam cradled him, not easy, for he wasn't a small infant. Will would have Alvin's height, both parents were sure.

"Oh god, I'm so glad he's gone."

Sam sighed. "Me too. At least after Saturday, it'll be over."

Jenny nodded, then leaned against him as Chelsea went to the basket of toys near the television.

"Honey, I love you. Everything okay?"

Tears poured down Jenny's face, not from shame or wistfulness that the situation was different. It was what it was, but Jenny no longer accepted things as before. Now they took longer; was it Alvin's death? Was it motherhood, or just the normalcy of her life? No longer did dreadful events constantly happen, where all she could do was go forward, less of herself with each blow. Now she more deeply felt what occurred, making it harder to move them to the back of her brain.

Her habits were unchanged; she still used several measuring spoons while baking, had her possessions arranged just so. The house was tidy, even with two small children, everything in its place. Chelsea took after her mother, picking up toys at the end of the day, putting dolls in one basket, books in a stack beside the couch. That made it easy to pick up one, then pass it down to the other end, where another pile waited.

Rules dominated; dishtowels on nails for drying plates or hands, hooks in the nursery for Chelsea's jackets, her small boots and shoes lined along the wall. Will had little footwear to sort, but had been using his voice more, _Ma-ma_ now interchangeable with _Da-da_ since Chelsea's party. He was so quick to attempt sounds and his sister's actions. Will was a sponge and was being weaned.

Now he slept and Sam stood, heading to the stairs. Chelsea could use forty winks, and Jenny called for her daughter, a book in her small hands. Chelsea returned to her mother's lap, and after one short tale, she was nodding off. Sam collected her too, then returned, the living room silent.

Jenny turned to him as her daughter had nestled against her. Jenny missed nursing Will, felt a bit guilty. She felt more culpable with Tommie's voice in her head. His son and daughter-in-law weren't going to Portland for recreation. They were going there for an abortion.

She still thought it was for the best. During the week, Liz and Debbie had visited, the three women sharing honest words about what would happen. The alternative had given Jenny the chills; Liz had looked so frightened. That had been on Tuesday, the day before Max's appointment. Small excitement hovered within Liz; maybe Max's nerves might be regenerating. He had felt that initial pinch in Jenny and Sam's front door, letting loose a scream, then great laughter. Chelsea thought she had earned another spanking, but this was unintentional. An accident, Jenny had said, soothing her daughter as Max kissed Chelsea's worried face. Just an accident.

Like the couple's baby, only an accident.

Jenny thought about that while enveloped in Sam's arms. Two men in her life had loved her, and this one, another admission, was the best.

They hadn't talked much about getting married. Sam wanted to buy her a ring, then announce it properly. He'd been gone for much of yesterday afternoon, but Jenny hadn't pressed to his whereabouts. It was something she pondered with half her brain, too much else interfering. Maybe after this weekend, they would talk more on that subject.

What she had considered was Sam adopting the kids. They would all have the same last name, Harris Cassel for the children, but no hyphens, Harris more like an extra middle name. Cassel would be Chelsea and Will's legal last name, Jenny's too. Would Sam stop calling her _Jenny Cope_ , said in one breath as if her first and last names were all one word? Alvin had said it that way and Jenny closed her eyes, trying to conjure his real voice, not the one that came instead, a man not like the Alvin she had loved. This voice was different.

It was deliberate, like Sam. A sense of purpose had come from Alvin's mouth, about Tommie. Jenny had forgotten all about her dream, but in Sam's arms, it returned. Alvin had been on the bus with her, telling her about Tommie.

"Sam, say my name. You know, the long version."

"Jenny Cope?"

"Yeah, but not as a question. Just say it."

"Jenny Cope."

It hit her, so similar, but odd in that within her dream, only a few nights' back, Alvin had never said _Jenny Cope_. He only called her _Jenny_.

Just Jenny, plain and unadorned, as if she was any other woman on the planet. But Sam still called her _Jenny Cope_ now and again. "Sam, when we get married, are you gonna stop calling me Jenny Cope?"

His laughter shook her and she gripped him. "Uh no, I wasn't planning on it. Why?"

She burrowed against him, wishing to somehow create a child by being close. Somehow their bodies might blend together and there Sam would be, right inside her. A baby wanted, planned, even going so far as to wean one child to start another. Was that right? Was it fair to Will?

Jenny dismissed that, feeling more than just Sam's clothing. Smelling him, hearing his voice now offering her name in a sing-song manner, but not innocent. His tone was sensual, not at all how Alvin had ever said her name. From Sam it was intentional. Sam Cassel was the most deliberate man Jenny had ever known.

Or loved, for there on the couch Sam removed his shirt, then hers. Leaving her bra in place, he lifted her over him, and while jeans precluded much else, as if through garments they could make a baby, Sam and Jenny did just that.

That night in bed, the only item of apparel worn was Jenny's bra. She sat atop her lover, hearing Sam's muted groans, voices soft due to the children. Jenny would have loved to make him scream, but if weaning Will wasn't bad enough, she wouldn't dare introduce any more conflict into her children's lives.

The couple made love quietly, but with some force, a silent abandon to their hearts and Jenny came right before Sam did. Then together they rolled over, Sam lying on her for a long time. Jenny needed their flesh pressed tight due to his weight and her limbs around him. With no condoms in the way, Jenny made sure Sam stayed right where he was.

They whispered loving words, including their names. There in bed she had gotten into the habit of calling him _Sam Cassel_ , mumbled in a cadence as if a single thought. _Sam Cassel_ : Jenny said that while caressing his backside.

"Baby, I love you." He kissed her along the charms of her necklace.

Then his hands inched their way between their bellies. Sam squeezed his palm against her stomach and Jenny nodded in agreement, but whether or not they had been successful was unknown.

She doubted it. That had only been her first cycle, and the months it had taken her and Alvin to conceive Will fell more into her head with every passing day. That and how easily Liz and Max had made a baby probably meant Jenny and Sam would have to wait, and Jenny would, as Sam had waited for her. Yet noting his erection, she wouldn't have to pine for other things.

"Make love to me," she asked, his nod meeting the end of her words.

He moved against her, his hand still there, as if reminding her body what to do. He came quickly; perhaps something about trying for a child made the libido more conducive to the continuation of the human race. Jenny didn't know what it was, only that as she had felt with Alvin years before, it was necessary for the man to come. No woman could get pregnant alone.

Friday passed with a brief visit from Max and Liz breaking the monotony. Sam and Grant had spent the day in the garden and beyond, and Sam was looking forward to spring when the fifty acres past the orchard would be planted in new trees. More Granny Smith apples would go in next March, Jenny thinking that would be a good time. Not that she knew much about agriculture, but March was the issue. Better to put something new into the earth, Jenny had said. Sam hadn't asked her anything more.

After the Smith couple left for Portland, Jenny felt low. It was for the best, she told herself, and she focused on dinner, frying pork chops. As meat sizzled, the back door opened.

It was Sam and before the door closed, he said goodnight to Grant. Jenny didn't move from the stove, hearing the kids in the living room watching _Sesame Street_. Will was in the playpen, Chelsea too. Jenny would have trusted Chelsea on the couch, but instead she asked to join her sibling. Jenny appreciated it, otherwise Will would fuss. After lunch he had taken a bottle from her with little argument; Jenny was thrilled to again hold her baby that close, even it was a rubber nipple she offered him.

He had seemed forgiving, snuggling against her, not rooting, only needing his mother. Jenny had felt a surge of hormones, then tears. She needed her children, wanted them. Max and Liz were different, but Jenny was thirty-three, no longer thinking of only herself. Now she had a family.

Sam washed his hands, then came to her side, his arms around her. She was part of a unit, a notion thought impossible after Alvin had died. Sam had been her roommate, but only that, platonic and separate. Jenny's family had been small, just herself, two tiny children. Now it was this man, who caressed her sides, kissed her neck, pressing his groin into the backs of her legs. She turned the flame to low, then went to his arms.

They shared a few small gropes, followed by longer kisses. Then Sam pulled away, taking something from his pocket. "You need this?"

Will was always taking an earring and Jenny rarely found the matches anymore. Instead, it was a diamond ring. "Jesus Christ!" she muttered.

Grasping her left hand, Sam slipped it on her finger. The band was large, but close enough. "I'm not gonna get it changed, not until after..." His other hand went to her torso.

Jenny couldn't speak. The family she had so desired was there in her arms and in a playpen in the next room. Liz and Max drifted from Jenny's mind as Sam kissed her.

She clasped her hands along his back, playing with that piece of jewelry. Then Jenny and Sam moved around the corner, near the back door. With their children safe in the living room, a couple consummated their engagement, calling each other those long, whole names in short, passionate breaths.

Chapter 6

On Thursday, September thirteenth, Sam turned thirty-six. Rae was feeling better and both she and Tommie went for lunch at Jenny's, which was now known more as Jenny and Sam's, especially since their engagement was made public.

Jenny served beef stew, but that night she was taking Sam to dinner, only the two of them. When Tommie and Rae left after lunch, they wouldn't just be toting extra dessert, but two small children. Alana would have roomies; Chelsea slept with Lana, Will in the playpen. Even with the spare bedrooms, Alana preferred the kids close, and they liked that best too.

Once lunch was finished, Sam's birthday cake was set on the table, chocolate with vanilla frosting. Chelsea kept her fingers out of the tempting white goo, using her small fork, earning Jenny's praise. Chelsea smiled while her little brother made a huge mess on his tray, getting cake in his hair. Rae proclaimed she was _not_ taking him home unless he was clean and Chelsea giggled, calmly sitting in her big chair at the table in between her aunt and uncle. Will was a mess, Chelsea implied, but she was _good girl_.

Sam offered to run the bath, but Jenny rebuffed the birthday boy's suggestion, taking Will to the tub. Soon Tommie was at her side. Jenny hadn't wanted to say any more to Rae, and Tommie wasn't much easier, but neither Smith seemed alert to what Max and Liz's weekend had entailed.

Tommie splashed with Will, both full of chatter. Jenny had been looking forward to this lunch, also dreading it. Much ado had been made about wedding plans, a December ceremony at the Smith house, right before Christmas when Lexi would be home. Jenny and Sam wanted to marry on Friday the twenty-first, then spend the weekend in Eugene. With Jenny at his side, Sam felt it was time to revisit a town he hadn't stepped foot in since Tracy died. They would exorcise ghosts, as well as spend plenty of time in bed.

After those plans had been discussed, Rae asked a question. Were they, you know, already...

Jenny took Rae's words with confusion. "Pregnant?" Jenny had asked.

Rae nodded, looking to the floor.

Sam brokered their answer, then Tommie spoke. Someone had seen Jenny in the drugstore a while back, buying one of those newfangled pregnancy tests.

Again Sam noted that they had been wondering, but no, nothing yet. Jenny was happy that Sam inferred it was for their use, but was annoyed that Bonnie Carmine couldn't keep her mouth shut. After what Jenny knew and hadn't revealed, how dare that woman...

"He's starting to look like a prune Jenny," Tommie chuckled.

She glanced at her son, sitting naked in front of her. Then he peed into the water.

"That's it for you Will Harris." As Tommie handed her a towel, Jenny grabbed her baby. She rubbed the water from his hair, hearing giggles as her hands moved down, tickling his belly. "Don't you pee on me," she smiled.

Placing her boy in Tommie's arms, Jenny went for clothes. By the time Sam came up, the trio stood on the landing, Will damp and clean.

"He looks fine. As do you," Sam said. "And Tommie, you're not looking a day over..."

"Watch yourself Sam. Forty's not so far anymore."

The men laughed going down the stairs and Jenny followed with the baby bags. She wanted one night with her fiancé, which sounded funny, but she was happy to be engaged. Jenny wasn't as old as Rae and Tommie, but with all their kids nearly grown, the guard was changing. Maisie Cassel was the last of that generation and she'd been dead for...

Since 1976, the year Chelsea was born. 1980 was fast approaching, time already in a place far ahead. 1976 sounded like more than just three years ago.

Jenny's life was so altered from that spring, when Sam and Jacob's mother died. Tommie and Rae chatted with the kids; someday they would be wonderful grandparents. Then Jenny shook herself. Liz and Max had returned subdued, but relieved. Liz had confided that as soon as she had a normal period, she would start birth control pills. An IUD seemed too invasive and if they felt a baby was something they did want sooner rather than later, it would be much easier to just stop taking the pill. That was mentioned in passing; in their voices Jenny heard it would be a _long_ while. As Tommie took Chelsea in his arms, these little ones were surrogate grandkids, unless Steve and Marcy changed their minds, but that couple wasn't eager to start a family either. Jenny was happy to be the bearer of small children and the sooner it happened, the better.

"You be good for Auntie Rae, all right?" Jenny kissed Will's cheek and he giggled.

"Of course he will," Rae cooed.

A connection existed between Jenny's son and this woman, as if by the time Will arrived, Rae was eased from some pain. Jenny didn't think it was his gender; Rae had miscarried far too early to have any idea if it was a boy or girl, and Jenny had heard Tommie privately refer to that lost baby as a female. Will had lowered Rae's shield. Chelsea was loved but Will was adored.

"I'm sure they'll both be angels," Sam said. "Here, give Daddy a kiss."

Chelsea smiled, leaning from Tommie's arms into her father's. The only man she knew as her daddy was Sam.

"You tote her out," Tommie chuckled. "Leaves my hand free for cake."

"You're incorrigible," Rae sighed, Will in her grasp.

Jenny followed with one baby bag, Sam toting the other. Car seats waited in Rae's vehicle and Jenny secured her children, then waved, leaning into Sam's arms. Soon he'd be _Daddy_ in another manner. Before heading to Albany for dinner, Jenny and Sam would visit Jeff Wheeler.

They spent the afternoon in that office, one Jenny hadn't revisited for more than a quick hello since Alvin's death. Jenny had relinquished not only the budget to Sam's care, but also his eye for detail. Hers was sharp, but Sam was well educated, and Jenny preferred him in charge. She never felt the estate was hers alone, she hardly thought about it at all, not wishing to ponder the monument to Bonnie Carmine's greed. They lived a comfortable life, Sam with time to putter on the farm, leaving most of the work in Steve's capable hands. Grant was sometimes more trouble than he was worth, but he allowed Sam spare moments to concentrate on his writing. When kids weren't clamoring for their father or the farm calling for Sam's attention, that man was typing, running, or making love to Jenny.

Or, on a rare occasion, he chatted with the only person Jenny wanted to keep accounts for Alvin's estate. Initially Jeff had proclaimed he wasn't keen on finances. Yet, Jenny had seen through his humility; there weren't too many in this town with more education than he or Sam. Right now, Jeff wanted to consolidate a few scattered accounts into gold. Something in his gut, he had laughed.

The men's banter flew over her head, but Sam kept an eye on the stock market, something else occupying his time. So different was he from Alvin, and as that name was mentioned, Jenny paid attention.

"That's fine. I'll prepare the paperwork or wait until after the wedding."

Jenny heard the smile in Jeff's voice. "After the wedding's fine with me. Sam?"

He nodded. "Then we'll all have the same names at the same time."

Jenny had been seated, Sam on his feet. She stood as he met her in the middle of the room. "Oh Mr. Wheeler, there's one more thing."

"Jenny, please call me Jeff."

They all laughed as Jenny couldn't do it. Something about him was above her and as she tried to engrain good manners in her daughter, Jenny practiced what she preached. "Just that we're hoping to add to the family in the coming year. But I suppose that doesn't need to be set down in any of this paperwork."

Jeff came around the table and shook their hands. "Oh congratulations! Well no, not in the adoption process. Only to include that child in the will."

Warmth ran through Jenny, speaking of what she and Sam soon hoped would occur. A baby, their baby; telling her lawyer made it seem true.

Then she laughed, taking her seat once again, as the men began discussing stock options, complicated details that Jenny didn't care to consider. She was happy with a baby on her mind, leaving to these men the more business-oriented matters of life.

All during dinner Jenny listened to Sam speak of trees, gold, and adoption. It seemed somewhat silly, in that he _was_ father to Chelsea and Will, but legally, he was only Jenny's boyfriend. In the strictest sense of the law, Samuel Eric Cassel was no more to the kids than any of Jenny's other relatives.

Her family here, in Oregon. She didn't consider her sisters or, god forbid, her parents, any part of her life or of her children's. Jenny squeezed Sam's hand, thankful for his foresight. Not only in wanting to marry her, plant more apple trees, or any stock changes, but for the simpler notion that was the most important; making a family.

Not in the usual way, but through other channels. She had Sam, her kids did too. And she and Sam together would have more children. No need for paperwork once she was pregnant, adding to their little brood. Chelsea and Will would need documentation to alter their names, but no such formalities would be necessary when Jenny's next child arrived. She reached under the table, caressing her small paunch. Then she giggled.

"What?" Sam asked.

"All we did today is sort red tape. When I get pregnant, it'll just be you, me, and a baby. No need to get a lawyer involved."

"I never thought about it like that," Sam laughed. "Who knew having a family was so complicated?"

They held hands over the table. Sam kissed her knuckles, then set his plate to the side.

In an unfamiliar setting, they stared at the other. Jenny hadn't been in such an elegant setting since Florida. Sometimes Joni had treated them at a place on the wharf, overlooking the Gulf of Mexico. That was years ago, but perhaps Sam had been to restaurants like this with women in Portland. There had been others, he hadn't been a monk. Yet, those existences were so far removed from what they knew, from what mattered. It didn't have to be complex or intricate. Life could be reduced to the basics; a home, a lover, children. Jenny knew she was lucky; Alvin's parents had arranged this years before. Jenny wouldn't give Bonnie any credit. That woman had been in it only for the money, no shred of feeling in that...

Jenny stopped because Sam had stood, offering her a hand to do the same. He seemed aware of what mattered and while he could be preoccupied with other activities, she saw in his eyes, and along his slacks, his true concerns.

"You ready to go?" she smiled.

"Get your butt outta that chair or I'm not leaving without causing a scene."

She had a throaty laugh while joining him, then offered a kiss, making it worse. "Happy birthday," she whispered.

"Oh Christ." He set her in front of him and they walked that way until reaching Sam's truck. Helping her in, Sam placed his hands on her belly. "I know it's way too early to be thinking about this, but I'll tell you, the best present I'll get between now and Christmas is..."

Jenny smiled, her hands set on top of his. "I know Sam, I know."

It was well into the middle of the night when Jenny woke, needing to pee. They had made love, then fallen asleep, passion giving way to the novel idea of not rising for their children's needs. She smiled, washing her hands. The sure sign of parenthood was when sleep overtook sex as the priority.

Jenny couldn't help herself, peeking into the nursery. If she _did_ get pregnant soon, some rearranging would be necessary. Chelsea was three years old, but Jenny didn't like the idea of one small girl stuck alone on the top level. Jenny got back into bed and Sam turned to her. She wasn't pregnant yet, plenty of time to consider alternatives.

Sam's hands traveled over her body. She had removed her bra and felt nothing leaking. As Sam found her nipple, Jenny felt simultaneous pleasure and a sharp pain. She jerked back, not meaning to move so abruptly; had he bit her?

"What?" Sam asked.

"That hurt!"

"Oh God honey I'm sorry. Guess I'm just, well..."

Jenny smiled, a few weeks since he could pay attention to her boobs. His tongue was gentle on her other breast and Jenny relaxed. Then again she flinched. "Sam!"

"What?"

His tone was repentant as Jenny fingered that breast. It didn't feel good. It hurt like...

"Happy birthday," she giggled.

"Uh, yeah. Jenny, what?"

It was one small symptom, just a blip, but Jenny remembered how she had known with Will before that fateful day of her pregnancy test. It was her breasts, as with Chelsea. Jenny had felt a small hint of nausea earlier that day, but hadn't given it any thought. There, with sore nipples, her cause for hope was too great.

"Sam, put your mouth right here." She pointed to her belly.

"Okay."

"Now say hello."

"To who?"

As if confirming her suspicions, Jenny's stomach rolled. Her voice trembled while speaking the news. "To your baby. Honey, I think I'm pregnant."

Chapter 7

Jenny's appointment with Dr. Fisher was for Monday morning, ten o'clock the earliest available, but waiting over Friday, Saturday, and Sunday seemed to last eons for both Jenny and Sam. Over those three days she felt every single emotion related to having his baby, but the couple was cautious, not breathing a word to anyone they saw, nor to their children. Yet, Jenny knew, from how her stomach rolled, her breasts sore but not from a need to nurse. Now the sensation was to that of waiting. Jenny had to laugh, when on Sunday night Sam paced the floor. Rain had fallen that day, adding to the hemmed-in feeling. If he thought one weekend was long, what about the next eight months?

Waking on Monday, Jenny didn't feel hungry, only sick, which kept her from eating anything but a few saltines. Chelsea and Will were clingy and in between bouts of queasiness, Jenny held them, aware it was only time in coming. A new baby would join them, but not a blonde looking exactly like Alvin. Jenny hoped for a little boy with dark curly hair and gray loving eyes, an infant over which to celebrate. Years after Lillian, Sam was going to have another child.

"Honey, listen, if we leave now, we can leave the kids with Sylvia."

"Yeah, I'm ready."

Jenny hadn't called Tommie and Rae, easier to let Grandma Baxter have this morning. The test would take two hours, similar to the one Jenny had administered for Max and Liz. She had spoken to Liz over the weekend, that girl still feeling tired, but otherwise fine. Jenny hadn't wanted to see that duo or anyone else. Sam would tote the kids inside the Baxters' house. After the results, then Jenny could face others.

On the way to town, Chelsea was chatty, Will attempting to keep up and Jenny breathed relief with every noise he made. Every single advance meant Will was like Chelsea, like Liz; fine. What did that mean? Normal, standard, regular, okay. Not wrong, like Alvin. Jenny felt chilled with those thoughts, but it was the truth. This baby, the one she _knew_ grew within her, would be fine too.

That's what Jenny assumed. A variety of problems could exist, but nothing would cause her to end this pregnancy. Jenny had never considered that with either of her other children. Was it Liz and Max, was it Alvin? Sam skipped from the Baxters' front door, nearly running to the Buick, the family vehicle. He had already talked about buying something larger. Instead of a cozy, contained unit of four, they were going to be five. Sam got in the car, started the engine, then set his hand on Jenny's abdomen. They were going to be five.

In the office, Jenny gave a sample, then Dr. Fisher took blood. It would be ninety minutes to test the urine, the blood work taking longer, those results available at the end of the week. Jenny and Sam drove to Albany, getting breakfast in a cafe Sam had eaten at when he visited Grant Schumacher. They said little as Jenny consumed toast, well done scrambled eggs, and juice. She threw up much of it right before they left, the rest lost along the road returning to Arkendale. They stopped at the grocery store, getting more juice for her parched throat. Then they sat in the car, in the back of the parking lot, a few minutes left to wait.

In the wide front seat, Sam grasped her close. Much ran through his mind, had been pounding his brain since Jenny told him. He'd been so stricken by her words that for a few seconds he had only gazed at her face, then to her belly. Then he'd kissed it again, running his fingers around Jenny's navel; it hit him then, in his guts, as if the baby rested within both. Then he had wept in Jenny's arms.

Now he felt her tremble. They had said great spurts over the weekend, followed by quiet contemplation around their children. Sam had been given new eyes, viewing Chelsea and Will as a man having made a baby. But this was different from Lillian, and it resonated with Sam in a deep, lasting place he hadn't noted in over fourteen years.

On March fifteenth, 1965, Sam's daughter was born, then died. He had been twenty-one years old, Steve's age. Within one day Sam had become a widower, then a father, then alone. Lillian had died in his arms, but better for her to have gone quickly, with little pain. Sam didn't know if she had experienced any agony; without a brain, was there any sense of anguish?

He took in Jenny's, her words mangled by cries. What if something happened, what if she wasn't actually pregnant? Sam brushed hair from her face, kissing her tears. Holding back his own anxieties, he considered all of Jenny's spoken ideas. And some perhaps she hadn't pondered.

Would this baby be born like its sister? Not Chelsea, but Lillian. That was foremost in Sam's head, but he hadn't conjured anything about it, not as he had in 1965. For months after Tracy and Lillian died, Sam dreamed of them, sometimes together. As time passed, it was more his baby girl Sam mourned in his sleep, and he wasn't sure why.

He'd had time with Tracy, knew her well. He never got to know their child; perhaps he spent unconscious hours making her real. Time in sleep, and in nightmares, was how Sam had fashioned his daughter. None had resurfaced, for which he was thankful. Looking at his watch, they could leave for the doctor's office any time.

He didn't have to speak, checking his watch was enough. Jenny wiped her face and fastened her seat belt. Since Max's accident, they all buckled up, and now that Jenny held a treasure, it was essential. Grabbing her hand, Sam kissed the back of it, still no words emerging. So many lingered, he didn't know where to start.

They weren't made to wait, Dr. Fisher's smile confirming the news even before he told them. Jenny began to cry and Sam shed a few and they turned to each other as the doctor's words went through their heads. He was glad Jenny had stopped nursing Will and would see her again in a month. There was little new information to offer, a good thing, Sam thought later. At that moment all he considered was the woman in his arms.

"Oh my God honey, you did it, you did it!" Sam spoke softly in her ear.

Her lips graced his face, his hands resting where that child lay. Their child, Jenny answered in a tone so quiet, but telling. "We did it Sam, you and me."

He nodded. If the doctor wasn't in the room, Sam would just lie her down and love her right there. If she was amenable, they would come back to town for the kids. All Sam wished was to go home and celebrate in bed.

"Just make an appointment for October on your way out and again, congratulations."

"Oh my god, thank you Dr. Fisher, thank you!"

Jenny stood and hugged him, which made the doctor blush. Sam shook his hand with one strong pump, then ushered Jenny toward the front window.

Sam made the next appointment, then he took the card. Sam opened the door, then led Jenny to the Buick. She was silenced, but not frightened. Once on the road, she began to speak, a deeper level realized. For the joy they shared, in Jenny it was doubled. The last time she received this information, her baby's father hadn't been with her to hear it.

"You know, the entire drive home with Rae, all I thought was how excited he'd be after all the weeks he hadn't wanted me to talk about it. But Sam, he did know. The night before, I almost said something, but he told me to wait. _Not yet_ , he said. _Not yet._ "

Jenny released a painful sigh. "Then when we saw the ambulance, Rae nearly froze. I've never seen her go white, but I knew what she was thinking, something with Tommie. She nearly cried and then, oh god, when you said it was Alvin..."

"Honey, I..."

"Sam, that whole pregnancy was some black dream, like I had this great gift but how could I enjoy it? I mean, I was happy for what I still had. Will, Chelsea, all of you, but he was gone. And I never got to tell him, you know? I never did."

Sam held those awful days like his own. In a way, they were. As bad as it had been for Jenny, it was for Sam, but he kept that unstated as she explained how for a few small seconds, she had pondered ending it all. Sam wasn't surprised by her words, recalling how terrified and hopeless she was on the day of Alvin's funeral. Once again her world had been shattered, and hearing her speak of those moments was more than he could take. They were past the Smith farm, within view of their house, a place where Sam, Jenny, and their children dwelled, where this new child had been made. It would always be Alvin's farm, but now it was Sam and Jenny's home.

Seeing that sign, Sam pulled to the side of the road. He killed the engine, took off his seatbelt, then Jenny's. Sam wrapped her close, smelled the sorrow in her hair, a similar length to those miserable days in March, 1978. He kissed her face, feeling her memories in how she gripped his forearms, assuring his presence. That day she had learned she was pregnant with the baby's father at her side.

They whispered comfort, love, and appreciation. Laying their hands on the other, but no clothes were removed. The day was sunny, appropriate for their news, but it was qualified in what had to come first. One last goodbye to Alvin, and to Tracy and Lillian too.

When they reached the house, Jenny called Sylvia, hearing the children's banter in the background. Sylvia asked to keep them through the afternoon. If Jenny and Sam wanted, she and Keith would drop them off later. At first Jenny hesitated until Sylvia mentioned they had old car seats in the garage from their granddaughters' visits. Jenny talked to Chelsea, her buoyant voice noting she was with her Grandma and Grandpa Baxter! Jenny shed tears; when she was pregnant with Will, all Chelsea could say was _ma-ma_ and _da-da_.

Jenny got off the phone, falling into Sam's arms. Then it was to their bed, where they lay under the blanket Jenny had made for herself and Alvin. There had never been time to make one for Sam and that restarted her tears. She asked him what colors he would like and they laughed over wild combinations that would commence, Sam said, after she made their baby's blankets.

Those words precipitated a hushed moment as Sam lifted Jenny's blouse, tracing her entire stomach with his finger. He tucked them in the throw, then Sam slowly kissed her neck. Jenny set her head toward his, asking for more, but how much more could Sam give her? He had offered the most basic piece that for the next several months would be in her possession. Yet, as if Jenny could share the baby with Sam, she removed her clothing, then pulled back the bedding. Lying naked on the sheet, Jenny nodded to a man not yet her husband, but in every other way bound to her. Sam undressed and in making love, they celebrated what had been discovered that day, leaving behind those long gone.

"You okay?"

Jenny nodded. It was nearly five o'clock and the kids were having dinner with their grandparents. Sylvia had called, said they would be out at six. Jenny had been on top of Sam when the phone rang, then she scrambled downstairs, only the afghan around her, hoping her voice sounded normal. Sylvia seemed unaware of anything odd and Jenny had hung up, then returned to find Sam waiting, his smile a beacon.

Now they were spent and Jenny felt little of her previous symptoms. As if Sam had loved away her nausea, kissed all pain from her breasts, or maybe it was the soup he'd brought her, a sandwich too. Also some crackers and a glass of milk, and Jenny laughed. Her son wasn't quite a year old, but Jenny Cope was having another baby.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Since I've come here four and a half years ago, I've had two kids, and now I'm looking at a third. Good god, like all I've done is get knocked up!"

They shared a laugh, then in the quiet Sam reached for her hand. "There's this feeling in my heart like the biggest weight of the world's gone. Honey, I never knew how much Lillian, oh God, how much that hurt. But now..." His hands ran over her bare skin. "Baby, thank you."

"Sam, I love you. You don't have to..."

"No honey, listen. All these years I thought being Lillian's dad was just a lie. She wasn't real, she'd never been real. I was dad to some phantom. And I'm not talking about our kids, but just my, my daughter."

Jenny saw the hurt in his eyes, gray and weary from pleasurable physical expression and ages of grief released. How much had Sam grieved, but it was unrealized. Perhaps, Jenny wondered, that was how he had lived the last four years while loving her.

Sam seemed to have a great capability for holding things back, emotions stored someplace even he wasn't privy to, and Jenny rolled his way, laying her active body against his. Now she noted aching breasts, a sour stomach, creating a child as she had twice before, movements and notions so intrinsic to loving a man. But Sam's heart was being plumbed, first by their coming together, and now with what had resulted; Jenny's presence was far more than bliss and pleasure.

"Honey, I, oh God. It's gonna take a few days, I mean, just to get through my head this's real. You're real, the kids, and now this beautiful, incredible gift. My God Jenny, I love you. And we did it, can you believe it? We made a baby!"

His laugh was shaky, disbelief battling with firm knowledge, but his heart was sure. Jenny knew that in the way he then touched her, sending shivers along her skin. She didn't think they would make love again, but affection wasn't only about sex. It sprung from awareness and acceptance. As Jenny had let Alvin go a few weeks back, now Sam needed the freedom to allow a baby in.

Jenny wasn't expecting to tell anyone for days. She was eager to share it, but first wanted Sam to feel comfortable. When grandparents arrived, Sylvia said nothing as Keith handed Will to Sam, Chelsea toddling on slow, short legs. Jenny hefted her daughter as Sylvia offered hugs to both. Then Sylvia whispered in Jenny's ear. "Honey, when're you due?"

Jenny's awestruck gaze was all the confirmation Sylvia needed. Then kisses landed on Jenny's cheeks, Sylvia gazing at Sam. "What? How'd you know?" Jenny sputtered.

"Know what?" Keith asked, standing next to Sam.

"Sylvia, we only found out today." Jenny saw laughter in her friend's dancing eyes.

"Found out what?" Keith asked again.

"Did she guess?" Sam said, moving Will to his other side.

Sylvia giggled, joining her husband. "Keith, you want another grandchild?"

The older man blushed, looked to the floor, then at Jenny. "Oh goodness. Are you really?"

Jenny switched Chelsea to her other hip. "How in the world did you guess? We only found out this morning."

Sam stepped Jenny's way, then all six of them came together as Sylvia chortled. "Honey, what you feel for this man is all over you, the same for him. It couldn't be any plainer than the looks on both your faces. You planning on keeping it secret for long?"

Sam grinned. "Well, we were."

Sylvia squeezed his hands, then kissed her grandchildren. "Well you better come up with a good lie or it'll be all over town before you can say Jack Robinson. Now I'll put in my order, a boy. We've got loads of girls and while I love my granddaughters..."

Will was taken from his father's arms, back to his grandmother for one last hug. "I'll just be honest. More boys would be lovely."

Sam set his arm around Jenny's trembling shoulders. "My feelings exactly."

The Baxters stayed until nearly eight o'clock; Sam and Sylvia gave the kids a quick bath while Jenny and Keith made small talk. He brought up Sam's writing, asking if Jenny had read any of it. She shook her head and nothing more was said. When the grandchildren returned, damp and dressed for bed, one more round of kisses was exchanged. Once the Baxters were away, Sam turned off the porch light, joining his family on the sofa. Jenny read _Goodnight Moon_ , one of the shortest books Chelsea owned, and both kids were asleep hitting their beds. Jenny closed their door, finding Sam on the landing. His smile was beatific and his waiting embrace beckoned to her.

He led her to their bed and they lay down, holding the other, but so much more. Sam again expressed his amazement that Sylvia knew, but upon reflection, Jenny wasn't surprised. That woman had been placed in her life for more than a bus ride from Las Cruces. If Jenny had sought intercession from Alvin for Max, she owed just as much, if not more, to the patron saint of those gone missing. Sylvia had mentioned it to Jenny that first day; Keith always said she was taking in strays. One didn't get more misplaced than Jenny Cope.

She had been lost until a crafty senior citizen basically strong-armed her into coming to an out of the way Oregon village, an area far from anything Jenny had ever known. Now she would have her third child in this idyllic hamlet, marry this man she loved beyond reason, raise her family that was larger than what she had produced. Jenny had a brother, children, and a home because of Sylvia Baxter. That night, as she fell asleep in loving arms, Jenny said a prayer again for Alvin to administer; great thanks for all Sylvia and Keith had done for her. Jenny drifted off to that appeal, borne of a heart so fulfilled that the acknowledgement of blessings seemed the only right thing.

Chapter 8

As Jenny and Alvin announced their pregnancy with Chelsea, Sam and Jenny took similar steps with this baby. Tommie and Rae were coming for Thursday's lunch so Jenny chose to lie low, Sam announcing she had a cold. The only ones to see Sam that week were Steve and Max Smith and Grant Schumacher. The Smith brothers were in between farms, but Jenny never set foot outside her house.

Chelsea was told her mama had a bad tummy, which on occasion Chelsea herself suffered. Sam was in and out, sometimes finding his family as the previous week, kids toddling about, Jenny in the kitchen behind her apron. Sometimes Sam found Will screaming in the playpen while the ladies were upstairs in the bathroom. Jenny threw up mostly in the mornings, but occasional queasiness hit mid-afternoon. Sam had Will in his arms when coming up the stairs, hearing Chelsea's soft voice soothing her mother's rampant vomiting.

Sam put Will in his crib, sending his daughter to keep Will company. Sam then knelt next to Jenny, but the worst was over. He gave her some toilet paper and as she wiped her mouth he brushed tears from her eyes. Nothing he hadn't seen from when she carried Will, but his concern was more intense, to an extent Sam felt slight guilt. He loved Chelsea and Will, considered them his. The baby within Jenny turned that notion on its head.

He helped her from the floor, sharing a laugh. She had been fine, downstairs reading to the kids. Then her stomach reeled. If not for Grant outside deadheading roses, Jenny would have just thrown up on the front lawn. Instead Will was set into the playpen and Chelsea had come chasing after her mother while Jenny lost her lunch in the toilet.

"You want some water?" Sam asked.

She nodded.

He was in the kitchen when Grant knocked on the back door. His ride was there. Could he leave early?

Sam smiled, usually one of Grant's brothers picking him up. Grant would never drive a car again and on some days could barely follow Sam's directions. They used to get stoned when Sam came home after Tracy had died, Grant back from Vietnam. More often they would drink themselves into oblivion, sharing stories with other friends, also returned vets. Sam had been the only one to escape combat, but his wife's brutal demise was analogous to what those men had seen. Now looking at Grant, Sam wondered what kind of survivors they were. It was sheer luck how things had turned out, fortune for Sam, tragedy for Grant.

"Go on, is it Eric?" Sam asked.

"Yeah Sam. Eric's gonna take me home."

Sam shook Grant's hand, poking his head out the doorframe. Eric Schumacher, who was Jacob and Tommie's age, waved hello, his youngest son Andy moving to the back seat.

"Yeah, go ahead. See you tomorrow."

Grant's smile was slow but bright. This farm, even when taxing, gave Grant a reason to get up every day. Thinking to Jenny upstairs, Chelsea and Will, and now another baby, Sam patted Grant on the back.

"Yeah Sam, see you tomorrow. Nowhere else for me to be."

Grant took the few steps with care. His brown hair was cut short like Alvin's had been, but before Grant had looked more like Sam, a wild, bushy mane, always a mess. Grant's life was still somewhat scattered, but only in what lay in his head.

Sam watched as Grant meandered to the car, getting in the passenger seat of the Ford Pinto. Then Eric turned around in the open shed, heading down the drive, back to town.

Grabbing Jenny's water, Sam walked to their room, but found she had rolled over, was snoring. Sam left the glass on her side table, closed her door, then collected his children. Will felt in need of a new diaper, and Chelsea wanted to know if her mother would feel better soon.

"In eight months Chelse," Sam chuckled, setting his son on the changing table.

That evening Jenny ate chicken soup while Sam fixed grilled ham and cheese for the rest. Jenny nibbled on Chelsea's crusts, finishing the leftover bits from Will's tray. She shared her soup, no worry that what Jenny suffered was contagions. The phone rang and Sam answered. It was Debbie, but Jenny shook her head.

Sam chatted with his sister-in-law as Jenny released Will from the high chair. Chelsea needed assistance too, her new seat too tall for her to climb down unaided. Jenny took that as a good sign, her daughter not quite the monkey her papa had been. Will would have made an attempt, and when the time came, Jenny and Sam would set firm boundaries. Hearing Sam's low tones, Liz's name unspoken but the only topic of conversation, Jenny moved from the kitchen with hesitant steps, Will in her arms and Chelsea on her heels.

On the couch she snuggled with them, still only babies, even big-girl Chelsea. Big-girl Chelsea used the potty almost all the time now. She had a tall chair and could sit alone on the couch, but Will had to go in the playpen. Chelsea had a big-girl bed and kept her toys gathered, books in a neat stack. She was a big helper, Jenny said, and one day she'd be a big sister again.

"Again?" Chelsea smiled.

"Maybe," Jenny nodded.

Chelsea seemed to like being three, she wasn't a baby anymore. What would Alvin think of his daughter, so verbal and bright; Jenny was sure he'd have been even more besotted. Now Will was turning vocal, getting into everything, and even with Alvin's doubts, Jenny was sure he would carry pride for having fathered a son so chirpy and mischievous. When Will had pulled stitches from Max and Liz's afghan, for a few seconds Jenny had been furious. Then his face, aware of his deed; such glee for his slight mischief. Will didn't know it was wrong, only colors that fascinated. With a few simple tugs rows were unraveled that had taken Jenny no time to replace. But that moment, just weeks ago, had settled her heart. Will was fine, nothing wrong with that boy.

As Sam entered the room, Jenny felt lifted. He didn't look sad, only thoughtful, but that gaze had been on him since Monday and not even Debbie's call had shaken it. "What'd she say?" Jenny asked.

Sam sat next to her, taking Chelsea on his lap. "L-I-Z is fine and they want to come see us, she and M-A-X."

"What?" Chelsea asked.

"She's getting too smart for us," Jenny smiled.

"She sure is."

"I was just telling her that someday she might be a big sister again."

"Really?" Sam looked at Chelsea, who nodded. "And what do you think of that?"

"I'm a big helper." Chelsea giggled, then pointed to Will, who was draped over Jenny's shoulder, looking about the room. "Will's a baby, but I'm a big girl."

Jenny caressed her daughter's face. "You are a big girl. Would you like another little brother?"

The parents couldn't help themselves. Chelsea was getting another sibling, regardless of her answer.

"A brother," she said, wiggling from her father's arms. "Like Will."

Chelsea leaned to that baby, giving him a kiss. As if bestowing her approval, she then jumped off the couch and retrieved her doll stroller, zooming it around the room as Will squirmed, wishing to join her.

Thursday morning Jenny felt slightly better, but Sam fixed lunch, a bachelor's touch of turkey sandwiches and potato chips. Tommie didn't mind, but Rae huffed. If Jenny felt so lousy that Sam had cooked, maybe they should leave the couple alone.

That was just as they stepped in the house, Sam and Chelsea greeting them, Will bouncing in the playpen, waiting to be freed. For a few seconds, it was only the children's chatter, excited for their aunt and uncle. Then the unmistakable sound of gagging followed. Glances were exchanged, then Sam's telling smile. Tommie was up the stairs as Sam grabbed Will from the playpen. Jenny's pregnancy was announced in the group's usual, unsophisticated manner.

"My God honey, what'n the hell'd you two do?" Tommie asked on his knees next to Jenny, puking over the bowl.

He pulled toilet paper from the ring, hearing his wife's shuffle on the landing. "Jenny honey, you okay? Don't waste any time now do you?"

Sam stood behind Tommie's wife. "No, I suppose we don't. Tommie, Rae, guess what? Jenny's pregnant."

Rae tapped Sam's arm and Will laughed.

"Jenny you done?" Tommie's voice was soft, recalling this from Christmas of 1975, Jenny throwing up in his bathroom and Alvin's beaming smile. Circumstances were changed, but again, Jenny Cope was having a baby.

She was having Sam's baby, and Tommie's attention moved for only seconds, noting on that man the most incredible bliss. More than Alvin had known, but that didn't surprise Tommie.

"Listen, you get down here. I'm too old to be kneeling on floors." Tommie sat on the closed toilet seat as Sam came through, handing his son to Rae. Jenny leaned away from the bowl, her eyes shining. All of Sam's being was consumed in that woman, who Tommie also loved, but not as Sam loved Jenny.

Tommie flashed to what happened at the end of that Christmas night, when Jenny was sick in his bathroom. Sam had come by, wanting to thank her for helping get Jacob dry, but Jenny's news wasn't the kind to keep under wraps for long. Sam's feelings for Jenny were revealed to Tommie that evening, great love and still tremendous fear; Jenny was in a state that to Sam was scary as hell. Again, Sam had been made vulnerable by a woman just out of his reach. Now, four years later, instead of Rae and Alvin bent over Jenny Cope, it was Sam's turn.

Chelsea joined them and Tommie saw Will fighting Rae's firm hold. Tears welled in Tommie's eyes, but not for Jenny and Sam. For a man who was father to these two kids, but not the baby that Jenny held. Since Max's accident, Tommie had again been an active part of Jenny's family, which now rightfully included Sam Cassel. Only Rae noticed Tommie's small tears. Now these children were Sam's.

Rae let Will loose and he crawled to those he knew as mommy and daddy. Not Alvin; he would never know that man. Instead Will went to Sam, _Da-da-da_ slipping clearly from his mouth. That brought joy to his parents, who repeated it, then announced to their children that another baby was joining their family. Sam's family, Tommie breathed. Alvin wasn't part of this group anymore.

Rae heated soup to accompany the sandwiches. She made coffee, which Jenny declined but Sam graciously accepted. Then Rae washed dishes, wiping down the stove and counters, all tasks she had done in the past when Alvin lived here alone. The rest sat at the table, discussing the news; the baby was due in late May and already they were hoping for a boy. No one asked why, nothing morose mentioned. Not only due to Chelsea and Will, but because Rae was there.

After setting the rag over the faucet, she joined them, sitting close to her husband. She hadn't shared in Tommie's sense of closure; Alvin was long gone in Rae's mind. She only implored the usual, that they wait to say anything to the rest. Then both she and Tommie were flustered as Jenny sheepishly noted the Baxters already knew, and Sam felt obliged to tell Jacob and Debbie. Only time before the kids found out and once it was that far disseminated, might as well put an ad in the paper.

Rae bit her tongue about the Baxters. She liked Sylvia and Keith and they were wonderful with the kids, but Rae preferred being an aunt. Truthfully, Rae only wanted to be grandma to her own flesh and blood. Tommie treated Jenny like his sister and while Rae loved Jenny, had loved Alvin too, it just wasn't within her to so easily assume such close bonds. Rae would do or give anything for her husband and children, but there was a line she just couldn't cross. Not that Jenny and Sam were outsiders, and Rae liked Marcy and Liz, daughters-in-law that with Liz was even closer. Yet, those two stood outside with Jenny and Sam, Jacob and Debbie. Only Rae's husband and kids fully penetrated her heart.

There wasn't room for anyone else. Thusly, she let Sylvia and Keith's initial knowledge of the coming baby slide away. Rae and Tommie had known _second_.

Rae observed Sam's changed eyes. Still gray, like her own, but for the first time she could see into him. Usually he was shrouded, but Rae noted his delight, a man ready for his own child after all these years.

Yet, that was silly because Chelsea and Will _were_ Sam's children. Anyone could see that and Rae's view of Sam's great joy dimmed. Then his eyes were plain gray, like hers. The sparkle that would soon be obvious to others faded from Rae's sight.

Then she heard the usual happiness, a baby desired, how Jenny had felt with Chelsea, how she'd been with... Again Rae paused. With Will it had been colored and she smiled at that sweet boy, one edging his way closer all the time. Rae wasn't sure why, but couldn't help herself with that child. She adored Chelsea, but something about Will tugged at Rae. She allowed it was that when he was born, even in his mother's womb, he'd had no father. Sam was his father now, but in the very beginning, Will had been alone, why she must love him just a little bit more.

Looking after Alvin since Betsy died, Rae had initially considered Jenny an interloper, yet she had witnessed that woman birth a child. Maybe that was why Will had breached Rae's defenses, a baby for the one she'd lost. As quickly as that thought emerged, Rae snuffed it out, asking Jenny if Will needed a bottle.

"Oh yeah. Can you make it?"

She nodded, standing with Tommie's help. Rae easily mixed powder with water, shaking gently at first, then with vigor. Will turned her way, now associating that sound with comfort. How rapidly he had switched his thought patterns, going from his mother's warm body to a rubber nipple held by anyone. But Rae had raised four kids, bottle fed them all. Will fussed, then was handed to her. Soon in loving, but somewhat detached arms, that little boy rested. The talk continued about a coming child, but Rae tuned out, cooing to her charge, blissfully unaware of what encircled her.

Chapter 9

After Tommie and Rae were told, the news went to Sam's brother and his wife. Then to the Smith and Cassel children who really weren't kids anymore.

It trickled out over the weekend; Grant was told on Monday when his mother Elaine dropped him off. He was thrilled for the couple and seemed more focused in his work. In the afternoon, Sam drove Grant back to town, needing some items at the store, where he ran into Tank Miller, who'd heard it from someone at Jacob's work. Arkendale was like that, information going from one ear to another. By the end of the week, it seemed everyone knew Sam Cassel was going to be a father.

Sam had made a point of stopping by the Wheelers, but they were already aware. Mary Ann had heard it from Gloria Lewis, Marcy's mother, and Jeff hadn't been surprised when his wife mentioned it, only that standing close, obviously eavesdropping, was Bonnie Carmine. Mary Ann had remarked upon Bonnie's shocked face, but Gloria hadn't offered Bonnie a chance to comment. Since Alvin's death, the Carmines were practically shunned.

Jenny's place had been forged due to Alvin and now living with a former resident, she would never be swept away. Not with Alvin's children and, those like Fred Hooper snickered, Alvin's money. Yet, that wasn't held against her. Jenny didn't flaunt it, she hadn't even known about it. Neither had Alvin, which didn't surprise anyone. Only one person had known besides Alvin's lawyer; Bonnie Carmine.

Bonnie and Harold, two people but lumped as one couple, one name. Harold was the man, but Bonnie wore the pants in that marriage. Anyone who cared knew that too, people like Fred Hooper, who took an interest in what had happened after Alvin's death. One young woman bore Alvin Harris' bastard daughter, then fell into a heap of money. Millions of dollars, it was rumored, but by then, Jenny Cope was pregnant again, carrying another of Alvin's illegitimate children, even if Alvin was dead.

As Sam entered Jeff Wheeler's office, layers of gossip swirled, some facts too, all tied together by years that carried the history of one small town. Times good and bad, as Sam received Jeff's heartfelt congratulations. It was good news, the best way to set what had happened to Alvin and Jenny into the past.

Sam came home with more than Jeff Wheeler's good tidings. Those loose accounts, all now invested in gold, were more than Jeff had assumed, totaling nearly eight hundred thousand dollars. To Jenny those figures were outlandish, more money than they could ever spend, especially since, Sam noted, Jenny never spent any.

"We're getting the trees for next year," she started.

"I know, but honey, until those trees do anything, they're a tax write-off."

Sam hesitated, as Jenny was still sensitive to Bonnie's former priorities. "Baby, we need a new car. I mean, a bigger car. And a new car," Sam smiled. "So does Rae. Tommie needs a new truck and Steve could use some decent wheels and why are he and Marcy and Liz and Max all living in apartments? Jenny, that money's just sitting there. We've got all the kids covered for college, got more funds than we know what to do with. What if we put some of it to work for them?"

Jenny stared at their house. She hadn't wanted that money touching her or the children, Alvin's children, but Sam's too. In January, legally he would be their father. But Sam wasn't talking of buying them a new house, only a van, which they would need. Sam's truck was just a few years old, but the Buick was at least fifteen. After the accident, Tommie had bought a second-hand pick-up that wasn't in any better shape than Alvin's had been. And those boys were driving vehicles in equal states of disrepair, only Lexi with a solid car. All her driving to and from Eugene demanded it and Rae and Tommie hadn't scrimped, but Rae's had plenty of miles on it. Maybe Sam was right.

"How are we gonna broach it?" Tommie had pride, Rae had more. But their sons wouldn't balk and what about Jacob and Debbie?

"Let me talk to Tommie. He's reasonable and my God Jenny. We've got the biggest gift coming, why not spread the wealth?"

As the children napped, Sam joined her on the couch, embracing her with great appreciation, also recognition. After years of suffering, theirs was a blessed life. Why not splurge?

"You think Jacob and Debbie will mind?" Jenny asked.

Sam laughed. "Oh, I don't think they'd turn down a new car. Then Scott won't have to beg to drive Debbie's anymore."

Jenny was distracted by Sam's hands, stroking gently where their baby waited. If Will and Chelsea weren't due to wake soon, Jenny would make love to Sam right there on the sofa.

"Jenny, whatdya think?"

She hummed to herself. What would Bonnie think, seeing all the Smith and Cassel kids benefitting from Alvin's money? It was rightfully his, yet for years Bonnie had spirited it away. Perhaps Betsy should have told him about the family's holdings, but Jenny had to wonder just what Betsy thought of her eldest son. Not enough to trust him with this news, only to look after the farm. Nor had she put much faith in her daughter, leaving nothing for Lorraine. Jenny wished she could have met Betsy Harris, who instead of bequeathing to her daughter a share in the estate, left it all for Alvin, in Bonnie Carmine's shrewd, selfish hands.

In early October, the last of the garden was harvested, Jenny's freezer full of vegetables and bags of strawberries that hadn't gone into jam. Sam put Grant to work with simple barn tasks, collecting the eggs, removing cobwebs. Steve was busy with the cows and contrary to their previous words, Max and Liz stayed out of Jenny and Sam's way. The older couple knew why, but nothing had been broached. Through her mother, Liz passed along that she had started the pill and it seemed fine. Jenny was glad, as that drug had never agreed with her. Morning sickness had settled and Jenny's first appointment to see Dr. Fisher was with Sam in tow. It was nothing more than taking her blood pressure and she had gained no weight. Sam had expected more, but until December, when a heartbeat would be detected, there was little to check. In the meantime Sam had planted bugs with Jacob and Tommie that he and Jenny had found some extra money, felt like it was burning holes in their pockets. Now with kids married, wasn't it time to get them settled into houses?

Over dinner at Tommie and Rae's this idea was hammered out, a night where Alana and Scott were away, Chelsea and Will with their grandparents. Rae was taken aback, but Debbie and Jacob were more accepting. This way Max and Liz wouldn't go off to Eugene next year, but in Debbie's emerald eyes Jenny saw more. Those kids had nearly stepped onto the parenthood train and Debbie had no desire to see her daughter get far away. Truthfully, Max had a ways to go before his left hand would match the previous abilities of his right. Liz was a checker at the grocery store and the money was okay, but with what Jenny and Sam paid Max, it was enough to cover a mortgage. Although, Jenny heard Sam say, they'd be happy to buy the houses outright.

Jacob and Tommie gasped, having forgotten the full extent of Alvin's estate. Those details weren't discussed, only that with homes of their own, both Steve and Max wouldn't fall into debt, an issue close to Tommie's heart. He and Rae had always lived within their means, how his father Mitch had taught him. Never a borrower or a lender be, and while Tommie wasn't that austere, he and Rae didn't have a credit card, no need. The farm, while not flush, was in the black, a simple life, not that of a famous ballplayer, but that hadn't been in Tommie's plan, not in what life actually dealt him. He stepped to the wall, looking at old photographs. Jenny joined her brother, clasping his bad hand.

"It's what families do, taking care of each other, keeping each other close. This way Max and Liz'll stay put, Steve and Marcy too." That couple would never leave Arkendale, but Jenny made her point. "And this won't be missed by Lexi and Ricky. I mean, maybe they'll get hitched one of these days, but that girl's been in Eugene a good while now. Maybe if she sees her brothers getting houses, coming home for good won't seem like such a bad thing."

"Hey Tommie, Jenny's onto something," Rae said.

Jenny met Tommie's gaze, then she whispered in his ear. No one heard her words, but all saw Tommie's nod. He approached the group and Sam stood, taking that man into his arms.

At bedtime Sam asked Jenny what she'd said to Tommie, cementing his decision.
Jenny sighed as Sam placed his head along her belly. Nothing had emerged, but Sam liked being that close to their baby. She stroked his recently trimmed hair, her fingers easily running through thick brown strands. "I just told him that if the places were switched, he'd be doing the same thing." Unsaid was that Tommie had made Jenny aware, time and again, of her place there with them. When she had been so afraid, that brother reassured Jenny that this was her home.

"That was probably the best thing you could've said."

"Yeah and it's the truth. I know Max wants to get away, I mean, maybe now more than ever." Jenny paused, noting wetness against her skin. "Honey, we should have him and Liz over for dinner once Jacob and Tommie tell them, you know, about the houses. I think we need to..."

"I know Jenny. I know."

She said nothing more. Distance had descended between Sam and his niece and between Jenny and a young man over whom she had prayed. Nothing complicated or fancy and not even to any particular god. Jenny had appealed to Alvin and maybe she needed to repeat that request, that Max could find his place, wherever it was. Jenny hoped it was in Arkendale. It was her home, home to them all.

Sam didn't move, his tears falling. This happened every few nights and Jenny stayed quiet, offering her supplications as Sam pondered all that had befallen them. Some bad, in the past, but now in the present blessings waited, even Jenny able to use that word. She prayed to Alvin while Sam wept, both awed by the gifts within their reach.

Chapter 10

Autumn was cool and wet and Jenny dressed her children warmly. When days were dry, walks were taken to visit Uncle Tommie and Auntie Rae. Sometimes Jenny saw Steve in the fields, keeping an eye on the cows. Sometimes they ran into Grant, who liked walking through the trees, leaves falling. Grant raked under the beech, making piles that Chelsea jumped into, spreading yellow and brown leaves all over the yard. Grant would laugh, then rake the mess back into a pile. He didn't mind the busy work, little else for him to do.

Max was harder to find, but one afternoon as she and children tromped along the road, he appeared, heading to their farm. Max stopped and had to turn his head to face them, his right eye the only one with sight.

"Hi Max!" Chelsea pushed her stroller as Jenny pushed Will's.

"Oh hey Chelse. Hi there Jenny."

"Don't forget Will," Chelsea yelled.

Jenny gave her daughter a look as Max mumbled _hello_ to the sleepy baby.

"Where've you been keeping yourself?" Jenny asked.

She knew, as far from her and Sam as Max could manage. Yet, they paid his wages and he had to put in an appearance at least for that.

He muttered some one-syllable answers as Jenny put the brakes on Will's stroller. Not the jog stroller that Sam had used all summer, but one Jenny had with Chelsea, one the coming baby would use too. Jenny was starting to feel normal, only fatigue plaguing her. When her children napped in the afternoon, Jenny found herself sneaking a few winks as well. She checked on her son; Will had leaned back, his eyes closed. She approached the truck, last year's model. Jenny hadn't yet seen Max and Liz's new wheels.

"It's nice," she said, not looking Max in the face. The white vehicle made her laugh. With all the mud it wouldn't look clean for long.

Steve and Max had both received year-old full sized pick-ups and Scott now had his own car, which was Debbie's old one. She drove a new Ford Escort, Jacob still with his Chevy. Rae had yet to choose, but Jenny knew she was leaning toward a compact, what with only Alana at home. Tommie had a new Ford truck, right off the lot, Jenny having gone for a spin. Max's truck was in good shape, from what Jenny could note, and he finally caught her eyes as she tried to peek inside the cab.

"Oh uh, you wanna see?"

"Just looks like it suits you."

"Hey Jenny, I uh, Liz and I, we uh..."

"Max, you guys available for dinner on Friday?"

"Uh, this Friday?"

"Sure."

He was quiet and Jenny moved Chelsea's way. She was talking to her doll; it needed a nap, just like Will.

Then Jenny saw Max shaking his head, his face turned to the steering wheel.

"Max, dinner on Friday?"

"Jenny, you and Sam, you shouldn't have."

"What honey?"

"The truck, a house. My God, you don't need to do all this."

Jenny heard her daughter's small chatter, the same things she said to Chelsea and Will.

"Max, that money wouldn't have meant anything to Alvin if family didn't benefit from it."

She leaned in, noting that eye patch, his lifeless right arm set along his lap. "We're all family Max. Now, you and Lizzie busy on Friday?"

"I dunno."

"Well tonight, when you get home, see if it's okay. If I don't hear from you, we'll see you guys around five, all right?"

Max nodded as Chelsea's small voice grew quiet in the background, her doll tucked into sleep.

"You know, I'm just not sure what else there is for him to do."

Sam looked into the small orchard. This time next year trees would be all one might see, fifty acres past this patch planted in new apples. Steve stood beside him, both men aware that even if Chelsea jumped into leaves twice a day, Grant wouldn't have much to do with winter approaching.

"I could ask Dad, see if there's something at our house."

Steve's voice was so much like Tommie's that for a moment Sam thought it was Tommie asking Mitch that question. Looking at Steve didn't help any, for that kid was Tommie's double, just younger with two good hands. Sam sighed, then patted Steve's shoulder. "No, I'll talk to Angus and Eric, tell them that for this winter, I'm just gonna have to lay Grant off."

They walked to the house, saw Jenny and the children coming up the drive. Chelsea carried flowers and she ran Sam's way, leaving the doll stroller behind.

Sam met Jenny in the yard, giving her a kiss. His hand was always drawn to their baby and he felt himself stiffen with her lips pressed close. Now making love to her was more passionate. He didn't remember it that way with Tracy, but he'd only been a kid, more desperate than anything. With Jenny it went deeper, but not at the bottom of the well. Every time Sam loved her that depth reached a new level and he wondered just how much further they might go.

He wanted to find out, then bit the inside of his lip once Jenny's mouth moved away. "So, how's the cows?"

"Ask your girl. She talked to them all the way up and all the way back. Hey Steve."

He joined them, listening to Chelsea ask about the cattle. Steve had told her their names and little cow secrets which Chelsea found fascinating. Both Sam and Jenny had noticed that since Chelsea became verbal, Steve had loosened up around her. Probably due to their mutual love for bovines, Jenny joked.

"Hey Steve, you and Marcy free on Friday?" she asked.

"Maybe. I'll have to ask. Why?"

Jenny made the invite, mentioning she had asked Max and Liz too. Sam smiled, then went for the errant doll stroller, taking his daughter with him. When they returned, Steve was getting into his truck, promising to call later with an answer.

Walking into the house, Jenny told Sam about seeing Max, asking him and Liz to supper on Friday. Jenny hadn't thought of including Steve and Marcy until just now, but it would be easier for the younger couple if others attended. Sam and Jenny were a bridge of sorts, not as old as Tommie or Jacob, but still elders, more due to Jenny than Sam himself, Jenny and Alvin.

Yet Alvin had never seemed like an adult, even if he was only a month younger than Tommie. With Steve as a work-mate, Sam had gotten to know that young man, in addition to Max, and they chatted about the farms, sports, even some current events. Steve had mentioned news from Iran; how in the world did Tommie's boy known anything about foreign matters?

Steve had admitted Marcy's parents brought it up and Sam smiled. Leave it to Gabe Lewis, a history teacher at the high school, but since then Sam had started paying attention to what international news he could find in the local papers. The Shah of Iran had been overthrown back in February, and was now living in exile in various countries all over the globe. If Sam was still at work, he would know more, so used to asking various staffers about the big stories, local, national, or overseas. Now his world was smaller, in a way. It revolved around his wife, as he'd begun to think of Jenny, and their children, which now included his baby. Sam's life was small but growing, and maybe between now and Friday he would see what was up with that disposed Iranian leader, something for him and Steve to chat about.

They would need a distraction; Sam assumed Max and Liz would say little. He had much he wanted to tell them, Steve and Marcy's presence the only hindrance. If Max and Liz bolted early, Jenny's plan would be thwarted. Yet, if she wanted it this way, there must be a reason. Jenny rarely did anything without a purpose.

Sam watched her make dinner, which wasn't more than spooning chili from the crock pot into bowls. There was bread she had baked yesterday and some carrots from last night's pot roast. They might be millionaires, but they never went out unless there was something to celebrate. Sam's birthday dinner in Albany had been a treat in more ways than he could count.

They sat as a family and for the first time Sam felt like saying grace, his father having muttered a quick blessing when he wasn't falling into his plate. As Jenny smashed Will's chili, stirring Chelsea's small portion so it would cool faster, Sam noted blessings money could never purchase. He had felt these children move inside their mother before anyone else, even before Alvin had. With Chelsea it had been at the cemetery, after Sam's mother had died, and with Will a year before, as Jenny's roommate. Sam had been her housemate, now her lover, soon her husband. Then father to her baby, notions making his heart, previously not mired in religious sentimentality, pound with a fervent prayer.

He stood, catching Jenny's attention. "Did I forget something?" she asked, looking to the counters.

Sam stepped beside her, graspinging her hands, Chelsea's too.

"Sam, what?"

"Honey, you mind if I say grace?"

Jenny's dazed face made Sam smile, how she looked when Sylvia knew they were pregnant.

"Grace? You mean like a prayer?"

He stood, then pulled the chair around, sitting somewhat behind her. He had wanted to just say it, then eat dinner. Jenny was more surprised than he expected.

"Yeah, just to give thanks for you, the kids, all our kids."

He stroked her belly and she seemed chastened. She had no faith, not for herself. Alvin had believed in God and she had accepted that, but since his death Jenny hadn't gone to church on Easter or Christmas, never mentioning it in regards to their children.

"You don't mind, do you?" Sam asked softly.

"No."

Sam jumped on the moment. "Dear Lord, I just wanna thank you for this food, and for my family. For Jenny, Chelsea, Will and our baby. Amen."

"Amen," Chelsea said.

Will babbled as Sam spoke, but Jenny was stilled.

Returning to his place, Sam tasted the chili. Chelsea had a bite of hers as Jenny fed Will. Sam waited for Jenny to say something, but she was hushed.

"Chelsea, you know what I just did?" Sam asked.

"No Daddy."

"Why'd you say _amen_?"

"'Cause you did."

Sam nodded.

Once the children were in bed, Sam found Jenny on the sofa, reading a letter from Robert. He and his friend were due soon and Sam kissed her cheek, then went into the kitchen.

He'd gotten into the habit, as when Jenny had been pregnant with Will, of cleaning after dinner was done. In the past it had been something to kill time, now it was done out of love. She was tired after her walk to the Smiths, and his impromptu grace had rattled her. Sam filled the sink, then loaded dishes into the hot, sudsy liquid. He heard her approach, but didn't turn.

"Sam, can I ask you something?"

"Sure honey."

His hands were full and if he turned, bubbles would land on the floor. He smiled; she might complain about that too.

"Sam, do you believe in god?"

His answer came before he could think. "Yeah I do."

"Why?"

It was only one word, but Sam wanted to see Jenny's eyes. They were brown, but not teary or disdainful. Reluctant, slightly curious. Definitely wary.

He used the towel for drying hands, then ran his fingers along his jeans out of habit, as was kissing her cheek. When this close to her, he always made that motion, so long wanting that ability. Now that he could, he never failed to demonstrate his affections. She reciprocated, then pulled away. "Sam, why?"

He knew her thoughts; he had been hurt, but not as injured or betrayed as she. He wasn't sure why he believed, not much in his home life to argue for or against. His mother had been a churchgoer when Sam was young, but his father's alcoholism wore the shine off Maisie's faith. Jacob didn't seem to believe, but a place within Sam's makeup allowed there was more to life than death and taxes.

He set his hands on her belly. "If for no other reason than this. You, our baby, the kids. If God doesn't exist, how in the hell do I have all this?"

Usually when Sam touched her there, she placed her hands on his immediately. This time, arms remained at her sides.

"Sam, I just don't know."

"If it makes you uncomfortable, I won't do it again, not out loud. But Jenny, I spent my morning watching Grant fumble with any little thing I gave him. Steve and I were talking; there's nothing left for Grant to do, so I'm gonna lay him off. Gotta tell his dad and Eric first, but I know they'll understand. Angus and Elaine have been so happy he's had something to do and man, I know it's a bitch, but I just don't have any more to give him."

"Sam, what does that have to do with saying grace?"

Again his hand went to her cheek, then his lips followed. Her skin was as soft as he had dreamed and Sam grew hard, loving her so much. Pulling her close, he pressed into her, felt her respond in kind. Loving was something Jenny understood well, sexuality clear in her mind. Faith was another kettle of fish.

"Honey, all I can tell you is that I'm here, with you, because of Grant. Because of Alvin, but also Grant. If I hadn't gone to see him, I wouldn't have been here when Alvin fell. And if I hadn't been here, he wouldn't have asked me to take care of you and Chelsea and Will. Even if Alvin had told Tommie to tell me, I wouldn't have done it, no way in hell. But coming from him and that he knew I loved you? Jenny, all I have now, all that we have, is a gift, Alvin's dying wish, which sounds cheesy as hell, but it's true. I can't change what's happened, not to Alvin or you or me. All those things are the antithesis of God, that's absolutely right. But honey, shit happens all the time to everyone. Every single one of us has some fucked-up piece of our lives, yet, you're pregnant. You have my baby right here."

Sam moved back one step, again setting his hand on her belly. He felt nothing but her usual soft skin. Soon there would be more.

"We have this, each other, our kids. We've both lost so much, but now we have more than I could dream. That's why I said that prayer Jenny. That's why."

Sam kissed her cheek, then left to finish the dishes.

In bed that night they said nothing until after making love. Then Jenny cried in his arms, sharing a story she had never told Sam.

"When Alvin and I were together, but hadn't slept together yet, he said he knew why I was here, in Oregon, but he didn't wanna tell me. Eventually he admitted that the only reason I was here, with him, was because of what my father had done. What he meant was if I'd had a normal childhood, I'd probably still be in Colorado. You know, married, whatever."

Sam nodded.

"But he didn't wanna tell me that, knew it would've pissed me off. Which it did, god, he was so smart sometimes, and all I did was cry. He was in here, in bed, and after he told me that I just fell apart. That was how I started sleeping with him, you know, not sex, just being together. Because he knew, damn him, he knew!"

Her voice was soft but forceful. "I don't believe, because what kind of god lets happen what happened to me? I know, shit happens to everyone, but Sam, my father raped me. That bastard raped me over and over and didn't care that it hurt me, that he destroyed everything I thought was good and true. That he stole my childhood, and my sisters', all our lives. He just fucked me for four goddamned years and what kind of god allows that? Can you tell me that Sam? What kind of god lets shit like _that_ happen?"

Sam had no answer for her, but Jenny wasn't looking for a response. "If you wanna pray, if you want the kids to grow up with faith, that's fine. I never argued with Alvin about his beliefs, but it just doesn't mean anything to me."

He stroked her face, then her body. Sam couldn't keep his hands from her, couldn't get her words from his head. They hadn't spoken of her past in a while, but it was never far away.

"Jenny, I'm sorry. I guess I never thought about it with the kids, but I suppose they can decide for themselves when they're older."

She nodded, turning to his chest. She shook and Sam cradled her, calling her whole name, feeling her release some bit of her history. Much still remained within.

Chapter 11

Sam hadn't prayed at dinner since that one occurrence, but Chelsea occasionally said _amen_ , Jenny catching her daughter with a bowed head and folded hands. Sam hadn't done that; Jenny had watched him stare into the room. Whatever Chelsea was doing wasn't due to her father.

Not that father, but Chelsea was too young to remember the few times Alvin had prayed. Only in church had he bowed his head and clasped his hands. No one else was religious and Jenny didn't ask Chelsea any questions, not wishing to mention it again.

That sat on Jenny's shoulders as well as the words she spoke with Sam. Adding to her thoughts were Max and Liz, their previously light natures dampened, and neither was overly warm with the kids. Jenny wished she hadn't invited Steve and Marcy, their joy in sharp contrast with Max and Liz, and Jenny admitted, with how she herself felt.

Sam carried the conversation, more about politics and world events than Jenny had ever heard him speak. Sam and Steve were in their own world talking about Iran, Marcy rolling her eyes. She was used to her father's lectures, but Steve had been captivated, far more than in high school, he laughed. By the time the kids were sleeping, Marcy was dragging her strangely verbose husband out the door.

"I'll see you Monday Sam," Steve called as Marcy gave him one quick pull toward the porch.

"See you Monday! Take care Marcy." Sam closed the door, the younger couple anxious on the sofa, Jenny in the big chair.

"Well, that was probably the most I've heard him speak about anything but cows and sports since, well, ever." Sam smiled, then joined his niece, who was then surrounded.

Jenny sighed. It hadn't been an evening she'd expected and since telling Sam of Alvin's thoughts, Jenny felt changed too. She watched the exchange between relatives as Sam grasped Liz's hands, that young woman spilling tears, landing in her uncle's arms.

"Oh my God, why didn't you tell us?" Liz wailed.

"We never would've bothered you guys, I mean, jeez!" Max's voice was plaintive and Jenny leaned forward, deliberately not setting her hands on her baby.

"We had only just decided to try, and as I said before, you had to make the best decision for yourselves. What we wanted had nothing to do with what you needed to decide."

"Uncle Sam, you didn't want us to do it," Liz cried.

Sam sighed. "Lizzie, you're right. I didn't. And it wasn't fair, because you're also right. We didn't tell you what we wanted because..."

Jenny wished to say because it would have made a difference, but she stayed silent.

"Because you didn't want me having an abortion." Liz cried so hard the words came in spurts.

"Honey, my God. I love you. Jenny was right. You're both so young, it would've been really hard. You saw here tonight all the work that goes into kids. It's not easy and..."

Liz cut him off. "Why didn't you tell us you were trying to get pregnant?"

"It wasn't any of your business."

Some weight fell from Jenny's shoulders. She stared at Liz, then to Max's right eye. "You guys have had one hell of a year and to be honest with you, the last thing you need's a baby. For Sam and me, it's different. We're older, we've been parents for a while."

Unsure if Liz knew about Lillian, Jenny left it there.

Max scuffed the floor as Liz's tears poured. Then Jenny heard rain. The day had been strangely warm and quiet, Grant not around, Sam having let him go yesterday. With the front door open all day, Jenny never heard Grant's shuffling steps or his broken whistles. Sam said he used to whistle any tune. Now it was a few scattered notes.

As night settled, the room seemed cool. Jenny grabbed the green and gray afghan from the back of her chair and set it over Liz. Sam made room and Jenny slipped in between them, holding Max's hand as well. "What Sam and I have is time and maturity and awareness. That and the desire for this baby. All those things make a difference. And Max, Liz, I'd tell you the same thing now as I did then. You did the right thing."

With only the married couple in front of her, Jenny would never know Sam's reaction, but in three working eyes she saw fear waning. Liz still cried, but as she rested against Jenny, there was release. Jenny had felt it so many times with Alvin, also next to Sam. That night, she took it again as her fiancé leaned her way, setting his hands on her belly.

Over the weekend Jenny and Same were up with a teething baby. Will was eleven months old and standing alone, his first independent steps imminent. But as Sunday morning dawned, Jenny sat in the rocker downstairs, that green and gray throw over her and Will. He was nearly asleep, but every time she tried to stand, he stirred, then cried. If she took him up now, he would wake Chelsea. Instead Jenny hummed to her baby, then heard footsteps. It was Sam, in his robe, rubbing his eyes.

They had set the issue of religion to the side, where it would remain for the next week. Robert and Cliff were arriving on Tuesday, staying at the farm. Robert hadn't decided if he would introduce his lover to his parents, as they would only be there for three days. It was just a short visit home, Robert's first return to Oregon since departing last year.

"How long you been up with him?" Sam's sleepy voice exacerbated Jenny's exhaustion.

"Too long. Your turn."

"Why I came down."

She stood, handing the baby Sam's way. Will barely stirred and Jenny giggled. "Of course now he's out. It figures."

"Just needed his mama's pretty voice."

Jenny looked to her slippers. "You're sweet."

"I love you. Go get some sleep."

She nodded, making her way to the stairs.

Sam toted the baby over his shoulder for another five minutes, then saw the time; six forty-five. Chelsea might sleep for another hour, but Will would nap until his mouth woke him again. Sam saw an empty bottle on the coffee table. That would hold him.

Taking the stairs, Sam laid Will in the crib, covering his son with the primary throw Jenny had made. Then he placed Chelsea's blanket more over the sleeping girl. By the time Sam left the room, Will's breathing had settled in a rhythmic hum.

Returning to his room, Jenny also made those patterned sounds; she must have gone right out, Sam smiled. He lay next to her, turned to his left, as sleep called his name.

Then Jenny's right arm came over him, her knees spooning against his legs. She felt warm for having been out of bed, maybe it was from the pregnancy.

She was pregnant, Liz wasn't. Both of those, Sam admitted, were for the best. It became apparent on Friday night just how young his niece and Max were; was it all the talk Sam had shared with Steve? Compared to his younger brother, Steve was like Tommie, not only in looks. Steve was setting aside teenager mentalities, Marcy was too. They weren't that much older than Max, but years stood between them. Time, Sam decided. It was just time.

Jenny had found a warm place against Sam's back, and since putting her arm over him, she hadn't moved, was snoring like her son. The sound was innocuous but telling of rest being found, shelter accepted. Sam hadn't been bothered by her rebuff of his prayerful overtures. Jenny had made enormous strides since coming to Arkendale, but huge leaps forward had been cruelly tripped up and Sam smiled. They had only been sleeping together for five months. It felt longer, like the four years he had loved her. In reality, it was less than half a year and now she was pregnant. Her body rested all along his, soothing and familiar, but soon it wouldn't fit. He looked forward to when this kind of closeness only occurred if they switched sides, if he was holding her and their baby.

Sam was obsessing, but couldn't help it. Jenny had been on the road for almost two years when Sam lost his family, both of them suffering deeply for a long time. Maybe it was only now, together, they could put aside all that misery. Even Jenny's time with Alvin had been fraught with some turmoil and if someone had told Sam that in giving her back to Alvin he would be opening a door for himself, Sam would have laughed in their face.

Then tears would have fallen for the tragic loss of a man who would have adored his children, not to mention how Alvin felt about their mother. Sam loved Jenny with every fiber in his body; Alvin had too.

Yet, Alvin had died, leaving Jenny to Sam like a bequest. She moved to her back and Sam missed her, but not for long, as she called for him, her voice tired and aching, but not from pain.

"Jenny, Jenny Cope?" Sam whispered, not wanting to stir her if she might go back to sleep.

"Sam Cassel, love me please?"

By her voice he was hard instantly. Sam then lay against her, her body not precluding that position just yet.

On Tuesday Sam went shopping. When he arrived home, a Volkswagen Rabbit with California plates waited in the driveway, and Sam smiled. Robert and Cliff had arrived.

Three bags sat in Sam's cab and he managed two, reaching the front steps. The day had been cool and he smelled smoke from the chimney. Sam hadn't started a fire before he left; who had?

He knocked, unable to grab the door knob. He had picked the two heaviest bags and a smiling green-eyed blonde Sam didn't recognize, with Chelsea in his arms, opened the door. "Daddy!" Chelsea squealed.

The man, a little taller than Sam, had a warm smile. "I'm Cliff Brooks. You must be Sam."

Robert was right behind and took one of the bags. "Hey Sam! Any more out there?"

A fire roared, Jenny seated on the sofa with Will in her arms. Chelsea had been set down and was running all over. "Uh yeah, one more. Thanks."

Cliff was out the door and Jenny grinned. "They've been here for maybe ten minutes."

"Oh at least twenty. Cliff loves a fire and I couldn't stop him from starting one. I hope you don't mind."

Sam blushed, couldn't help it. Other than Robert, Sam hadn't known any homosexuals.

Robert had set one bag in the kitchen, then took the other from Sam. "Jenny said you went shopping. Cliff's dying to cook for you guys, if you don't mind."

"Uh no, not at all. That's, uh, fine."

Standing in the middle of his living room, Sam heard the door open, followed by more banter from Chelsea. Cliff had retrieved the last bag and as Jenny met Sam, her touch was necessary, a cacophony swirling. "Has it been like this since they got here?" he whispered.

Jenny laughed. "Yeah. I think Robert's really glad to be home."

Dinner was beef stir fry and Sam enjoyed wine the men had brought. Robert looked different in both his physical appearance and overall demeanor. He was contented; Sam had noticed that immediately, a relaxed air that permeated all through him. In that house, where he could be himself, Robert's previously closed manner didn't exist, and while both men weren't flaming, they also weren't as most Oregon residents seemed, or all the ones that Sam knew.

Robert wasn't sure if he would visit his parents. In May, he had written to them, that he was gay and had a boyfriend, how he referred to Cliff, and that he was happy. Sam saw that was true. Robert was considering dropping in on Jasper with Cliff at his side, otherwise the men were pleased to hang out with Jenny, Sam, and the kids, who were taken with the mildly flamboyant couple. Cliff's sister lived in Oakland and had accepted his life style with no reservations. He was uncle to three rambunctious boys, but Chelsea, Cliff smiled, was a lovely breath of fresh air.

After the children had been bathed and dressed for bed, Cliff and Robert read stories, Chelsea asking for one after another until it was nearly nine o'clock. As Will snuggled in Cliff's arms, Jenny didn't even need to give him a bottle. Cliff and Robert took the kids upstairs, the parents completely forgotten.

Over another glass of wine in front of the fireplace, the couples talked of California and Oregon politics, then of local gossip. In their weekly letters, Jenny had kept Robert up to date; now he noted life in a small town hardly changed. Arkendale seemed quaint, yet the rural landscape was a tonic. The rose bushes held enough blooms to make him cry and again Cliff heard the mercy Alvin had extended, all due to Jenny, Robert sighed.

Then Cliff thanked Jenny and Sam for comforting Robert when Harvey died. Cliff didn't bother using Milk's last name and Jenny bit her tongue. She had no idea if Cliff Brooks had ever met Harvey Milk, but in his words and inflections, it was as if Cliff had known him personally. Perhaps it was due to the strength of Milk's character or maybe just in what that man's life and tragic death had meant to the gay community. Cliff spoke at length how relieved he was that Robert had spent that day with people he trusted, his family. Again Jenny was kin to those not of blood, but deep, affectionate love.

By eleven Jenny had trouble keeping her eyes open. Sam walked her up the stairs after she shared embraces with their guests. Sam had received a handshake, but Jenny expected that before they left, Sam would get a hug from both men.

Jenny slept all night, waking to the smell of coffee and pancakes. With no idea of the time, she found her robe, noticing the nursery door was open. Humid air greeted her in the bathroom, someone having already bathed. She popped into her children's room, finding neither in bed.

Voices wafted downstairs and Jenny put on slippers, then went looking for the rest. A fire crackled and the food smelled delicious. All were in the kitchen and a place setting remained. Yet, no one had disturbed her, and she smiled. "Having a party without me?"

"Oh, just letting Mommy get some sleep," Robert said. "You ready for breakfast?"

Jenny took her place next to Sam, who had half a pancake left. Chelsea was done, Will playing with the syrup on his tray. Cliff wore one of Jenny's large aprons, a spatula in his hand. "I never cook for a crowd anymore," he smiled. "This's something I miss."

Jenny let him serve and the repartee was chipper, of the weather and the San Francisco 49ers, of whom Cliff was a big fan. "All those men in tight uniforms," he laughed. "How can I not watch it every Sunday?"

Jenny giggled, but Sam sat stoic until Cliff chuckled. "Come on Sam, you've got to admit there's more to football than the cheerleaders."

The rest of the day followed in that tone and by evening, dinner and wine were enjoyed with gusto. Jenny wanted to cook, but Cliff wouldn't have it. Dessert was Jell-O pudding, for Chelsea and Will, Cliff claimed, then admitting it was one of his guilty pleasures. It was his vacation, after all, time to spoil oneself.

That night the men went out and Jenny was left with two worn kids and a lover befuddled. Jenny let Sam dress the children, not quite up to their antics. They had been coddled and now were overtired and shrill. Jenny had Will's bottle ready, which he took easily. She had to jiggle it to get most of the formula in him, but the last ounce was left behind as Will fell asleep.

Chelsea whined for her uncles, but when Sam took her up, she collapsed against his shoulder. When he returned, Jenny looked about as wiped out as her children.

"You need me to carry you up too?" Sam asked.

"Good luck."

He laughed. "Did they say if they'd be back anytime soon?"

"I think they said just leave the door unlocked."

Sam smiled. "Will do. What a pair!"

"They're so cute together. I've never seen Robert so happy."

"That's one way to put it."

Jenny leaned against him and he set his hands on a child all were eager to see. Robert spoke of visiting next summer when the baby would be a few months old. It was cold in summer in the city, as he referred to San Francisco. A trip home in August would be perfect.

Sam heard the way Jenny breathed, tired but at peace. That afternoon she and Robert had spent a good hour outside, just the two of them. Speaking of Alvin, Sam was sure, as they inspected every rose bush. Cliff had been pushing the kids on the swings, then Chelsea had jumped off, joining her mother. Sam had accomplished some writing, having yet to hear from Keith about those three chapters.

Then the evening had been dinner and conversation, not at all political as the previous night had been. This had been about Jenny and Sam's wedding and the baby. What did they want for a gift, Robert had asked, what colors were they planning for the baby's room? Sam had let Jenny do the talking, happy to hear her engaged with someone new. Max and Liz were faraway, only talk of this family, and of Robert and Cliff's in San Francisco. Not blood relatives, except for Cliff's sister Pam, with whom he was close. As Jenny had made Oregon her adopted home, Cliff had done the same with the Bay Area. He had lived there for ten years, worked as a bartender, and now that Robert lived with him, Cliff couldn't dream of anything better, except a Super Bowl win for the 49ers, he had laughed.

Then the men had taken their leave and now the house was quiet. Jenny snored and Sam smiled, setting her along the sofa from where it would be easy to collect her. Leaning over, he felt air slip from her nostrils. Sam fell to his knees, setting his hands in front of his face. Silently he wept, remembering his late wife in a similar position on their apartment floor.

Chapter 12

On Friday morning, a hush descended, once Robert and Cliff drove away. Kisses and hugs had been exchanged, even an embrace from Sam for both men. The quiet was partially due to the absence of their houseguests, who had integrated themselves far more than Jenny assumed would occur in those few days. Chelsea asked about them often, her Uncles Robert and Cliff. The Smiths knew about that visit, not from Jenny's few words, but all of Chelsea's. Some sniggers surfaced, but Jenny ignored them; by the end of October, all were used to Chelsea's two Bay Area relatives.

Those men's absences, coupled with Grant's, proffered the noticeable silence. Then it was how Jenny woke many mornings with only her daughter beside her, Sam upstairs typing. Jenny stirred to that faint tapping sound, then looked to her side, a small, blonde head on Sam's pillow. Chelsea's hair was well past her shoulders, a lighter shade than her papa. Will had that same hue, but Jenny expected them to darken, settling on Alvin's medium blonde.

On those mornings, Jenny rose alone, leaving her daughter to sleep. Will's tooth had finally emerged, and he was catching up on rest. His first steps had come two days after Robert and Cliff's departure and now Will toddled everywhere. He was hard to keep in the playpen, even if Chelsea joined him. Like his sister, Will was dying to get up the stairs, but a strong gate precluded him.

A barrier sat at the bottom and at the top of the landing, and Jenny saw it was attached that last Friday of October. Halloween was next week and as Jenny went to the bathroom, she heard bursts of sound, then quiet. Then another roar rose behind a closed door, what had been Sam's room this time last year. Twelve months ago he'd been her roommate, friend, protector. Now he was nearly her husband.

Jenny made her way up, creaking on boards that only Alvin knew how to negotiate silently. As she reached the top, Sam's typing stopped.

"In here," he called.

Jenny pushed open the door, finding Sam at his desk. Paper, pens, pencils, erasers and wadded balls littered the space, but the electric typewriter took precedence. Sam stood, moving toward her. It was cool on the top level and he was dressed in sweats and a long sleeved t-shirt. Still, Jenny felt that wasn't enough. "You're gonna catch cold up here."

"I'll be fine. She out?"

Jenny nodded. "When did you two get up?" She wasn't sure if Chelsea's habit went hand in hand with Sam's recent spate of creativity.

"She woke at five and I was done sleeping. I'm glad she's still out."

"You've been up here since five?"

Sam smiled, stroking the side of her face. "Right now the muse's calling my name."

His writing was a private issue. It had started last year with paper and pen. The typewriter was her gift to him last Christmas, and since then his writing had come in fits and starts. Lately a tumble of words had emerged, all in the mornings, since Robert and Cliff had left.

"Well, better make hay." Jenny kissed him, felt him lean against her. Recently sex had been more tender than usual, which she liked, but her need for him encompassed other levels of desire. Right then, she wanted to nail him good.

Sam's mattress remained in this room, used by Robert and Cliff. Jenny looked at the bed, freshly made after their guests had gone. "Sam, you uh..."

Pressing into him, she giggled as he moaned. "Oh yeah. And she's sleeping?"

Jenny peeled off her nightshirt, clad only in her underwear. "Yeah, she's out."

Sam fondled her breasts, no longer sore or heavy. They walked backwards, bumping into the mattress before falling into it together.

On Halloween Chelsea and Will trick or treated at the Smiths', then were taken to town by their Auntie Rae to visit the rest of the family. Sam and Jenny sat in Tommie's living room, Alana and Scott in the dining room doing homework.

Tommie sat on Jenny's left, Sam to her right. Sam held her hand and she clasped Tommie's, absently stroking his gnarled fingers and thumb. They were watching a movie, listening to the mild argument between Tommie's youngest daughter and Sam's nephew, something along the lines of a girl Scott had been flirting with and Alana had about had enough.

Tommie turned up the volume, but Jenny and Sam strained to hear the commotion. Finally Jenny stood, going for the bathroom. Voices dulled as she passed the dining room, then picked up again once the bathroom door was closed.

Sam looked around, missing Jenny and his children. Tommie's place was a second home, where Sam would be married in less than two months, in this very room where he had watched Jenny in sleep, observed her in sorrow. This house contained many memories; where they first met, where he had learned she was pregnant with Chelsea. Where he had discovered other things, and where he had shared his own grief. On that Halloween night bickering teens sounded a bell, but Sam allowed no unpleasantness. His life was only for good things.

Jenny came out, a smile on her face. She retook her place, then whispered to each of them, "What'd I miss?"

"Nothing," Sam said.

Tommie nodded in agreement.

The movie caught their attention as the conflict had ended. Then Tommie stood, making a few gruff sounds. Suddenly a chair squeaked across the floor. Tommie went into the kitchen and Alana emerged, looking flustered. Scott didn't follow her.

Jenny and Sam smiled but Alana didn't glance at them as she went upstairs. It was the length of the commercial break before Scott slipped out. He hollered _goodbye_ to Alana, then called _goodnight_ to Tommie. Before he closed the door, Scott offered the same to his uncle and Jenny, then he was gone, Debbie's old car rumbling along the drive.

When Tommie came from the kitchen, he took the big chair, and looked toward the stairs. Then he sighed and found Sam's face. "That boy better be careful."

Jenny and Sam burst out laughing. "Yeah or Lana's gonna give him the boot," Jenny giggled.

"That or I will," Tommie smiled.

"They're just kids honey. Back and forth it goes," Jenny said.

Sam glanced up; Alana's bedroom was more to the side of the house. Then Sam looked at Tommie. Curiosity sat in those brown eyes, not for his youngest daughter's love life, but something else. "Tommie, Scott knows to behave," Sam said.

"I know he does. It's just that, well, Christ." His voice lowered. "She's my baby and Rae and I do want her to go to college. Maybe it's bust for the boys, but that girl's just like her sister, like their mother. Smart as a whip and I don't want her to just... oh hell."

Alana came down with a smile, snuggling next to Jenny. "When are the kids coming home?" Alana asked.

"Should be soon." Jenny put her arm around Lana. She looked like Rae, but not hardened, how Rae must have been when Tommie met her, Jenny thought.

She noticed Alana calling them kids, meaning Chelsea and Will, how Jenny considered Tommie's children, still kids. Just how close were Alana and Scott getting? Maybe Sam needed to chat with his nephew. The last any of them needed was another trip to Portland.

Jenny felt chilled, then saw Tommie's eyes on her. He couldn't know, no way for him to know. Debbie wouldn't tell anyone, and while some things did get around in this small community, only they were aware. Jenny stared at Tommie, whose face now held such love for his youngest, the one child he'd seen born from his wife, their last. Jenny smiled at him, felt it returned, but in ignorance. No, Jenny was sure. Tommie had no idea.

On Thursday, the first of November, Jenny woke alone to the sound of typing. Then she turned over and went back to sleep.

An hour later Sam woke her and they made love with abandon. Getting up to pee, Jenny saw it was only six; how early had he been awake?

She returned, nestling against him. He was growing out his hair again and Chelsea was delighted. Jenny's was settled in a comfortable length just past her shoulders. She could put it up in a small bun if necessary, but Sam liked to run his fingers through it, _Jenny Cope_ spilling from his lips as he lay on her, whether they were done or nearly there. She called him _Sam Cassel_ , then he would giggle, _Jenny Cassel_ slipping from his tongue.

The wedding was next month on the twenty-first; by then they would hear a heartbeat. Jenny was feeling fine, and now that Will was walking and starting to talk, a small window had been closed. Her children hadn't inherited any mental deficiencies, a concern that had nagged at Jenny since Bonnie told her that Alvin had been born retarded, and that Jenny needed to get an abortion.

"Honey, you okay?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"You felt cold, like you had a chill."

"I'm fine Sam. Just fine."

He nodded, moving closer, but he was nearly on top, how much closer could he be? Jenny felt a hard shove against her leg, then she smiled. "Please," she whispered, and Sam acquiesced.

That night Rae called, asking if they would like to come for dinner on Friday. It was short notice, but Jenny didn't have any plans set, and said they would be there. If she felt like making oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, Rae added, that would be wonderful.

Jenny spent Friday morning baking as Sam typed. The kids had been collected by Sylvia, who had gotten into the habit of taking them on Fridays, giving Jenny a moment to relax. Also time with Sam; as soon as she had the last batch out of the oven, they would go to bed. Racks of cookies cooled; Jenny would fill their jar, taking the rest to Tommie's. Setting the timer, it would only be ten minutes.

From the kitchen Jenny couldn't make out Sam's work, but if she stood at the bottom of the stairs, it was almost indiscernible, in tandem with the timer's ticking. She didn't recall making cookies for that first Easter dinner, when Alvin had wanted her to join the Smiths for that meal, the first time she met Sam. Jenny wasn't thinking of that at all when the phone rang.

It was Sylvia; did Jenny mind if the kids stayed for the afternoon? No, Jenny smiled, not at all.

The timer buzzed and Jenny took out the last batch. There was just enough room on the last wire rack for that dozen, and she gave them a few minutes to set. With the old metal spatula, she loosened each one, then placed them along the rack, making straight lines. Rows of cookies, over five dozen, stared at her. There was no other noise except for her small humming.

Jenny washed her hands, then made sure she had turned off the oven, leaving the door open, warm air filling the room. As usual the day was gray and she turned on the heater before she went up. The gate was open, no need for it to be hitched with the children gone.

As she took the stairs, the heater rattled, something they needed to replace. Max and Steve were looking for houses now that vehicles had been purchased. Sam was leaning toward a Chevy van for themselves, probably after the new year. Inhaling the chocolate's sweetness, Jenny thought about how new cars smelled. Some of her old boyfriends had driven newer vehicles, but she preferred the scent of cookies, drifting along the walls.

"Sam, you up there?" she called, reaching the landing.

"Yeah. You done?"

"I am. Are you?"

He stepped from the room. "I am."

She smiled. "Well then get down here."

"Yes ma'am," he chuckled.

Jenny waited for him just outside their door. He wrapped her close, where she felt great peace and incredible longing. They kissed there and she smelled her man, cookies, and rain. Rain was falling and she laughed.

"What?" He caressed her cheek, then led her into their bedroom.

"Just all my favorite things. You, chocolate, rain, all together."

"Uh-huh, all here, just us."

She smiled. "Yeah, just us."

Sam sat on the edge of their unmade bed as Jenny took off her jeans, how she noticed the dampness. Had she spilled something; maybe water splashed on her while washing her hands.

She never smelled it, hadn't felt it. She hadn't realized she was bleeding until Sam gasped, then screamed her name, but not her whole name, only _Jenny_. Sam's wail at the blood streaked along her legs was how Jenny learned something was wrong.

Chapter 13

When she thought about it later, Jenny mistakenly assumed she'd lost her baby at the same time the hostages at the American Embassy in Tehran, Iran, were abducted. Jenny miscarried on Friday, the second of November, but the hostages weren't taken until Sunday the fourth. By then, Jenny was already home recovering.

Over time, those few days blended into a weekend that upon reflection was difficult to separate, how it had been when Will was born, right after the Peoples Temple mass suicide. Then days later Harvey Milk and George Moscone were murdered; Jenny clearly remembered holding both newborn Will, as well as a sobbing Robert Tucker, in her arms.

Now Sam's ashen face, driving from the farm, stuck with her, waves of fear and panic as if it was her father returning, shooting her at point blank range. Jenny knew all Sam's thoughts from the moment he screamed in their bedroom.

The miscarriage at nine weeks was traumatizing and debilitating. Then Jenny took stock; Chelsea, Will, and Sam remained, Tommie, Rae, and the rest. Unlike how she dealt with her father's assaults, Jenny was older. She had lost her family, Alvin, and now a baby. Of those three, a fetus was surely the least painful.

Jenny only said that to Tommie and Sylvia. She would never tell Sam.

By Friday night, Arkendale General Hospital was again a way station. Jenny's family didn't loiter in the emergency room, but down the hall, some in the small lounge, a few in Jenny's room. She could have gone home, but Sam wanted her in a medical facility that first evening. Tommie and Jacob's kids fanned out, Keith among them, the elders with Jenny offering love and condolences. Chelsea and Will were mostly ignorant; Chelsea was told her mother wasn't feeling well, no mention of the baby.

Will wouldn't have known any better, but Chelsea had been aware. That night she was cared for by Alana and Scott. Those teens took the Harris children to the Smith farm, yet, most were still in town, although there was little for anyone to do. No actual service would mark this short, small life; Jenny and Sam's baby was mourned and memorialized at Arkendale General Hospital.

Rae told Jenny that Chelsea and Will were at the farm. Jenny understood, but was groggy. She had never felt anything so miserable carry so little physical pain. An IV provided fluids and a sedative, but other than her heart, which ached deeply, her body didn't hurt. It would, as her uterus reverted to an organ with no immediate purpose. But in a bed surrounded by family, Jenny didn't feel all that bad.

Not until she looked at Sam, propped by his brother and Tommie, or sitting at her side. Then Jenny's soul was dredged, theirs together, but Sam would stay with her once everyone had gone.

Tommie was the last to say goodnight. It was eight thirty and Jenny was nearly asleep. Sylvia had just left, that woman a huge help as Rae was useless, Debbie not much better. Sylvia had sat with Jenny when Sam couldn't and when Tommie needed a breather. Jenny hadn't expected him to stay, but he wouldn't go, and yet, just when Tommie felt his legs about to slide under him, Sylvia patted his shoulder as if she was his mother, easing him from Jenny's side. Sometimes Jenny cried, not as much as most might think, and Tommie knew exactly why. For her this wasn't the be-all end-all. For Sam, it was. Tommie accepted that, so did Jacob. Jenny did too; as Tommie kissed her goodnight, she tried to lift her head. "Look after him."

"I will honey. You just get some sleep."

She nodded, closed her eyes, then rolled over.

Tommie set the blanket over her shoulder, then turned to Sam in the big chair. Rae had sat there when able. Or she was outside or down the hall, not that close. This for Rae was too close.

"You ready?" Tommie whispered.

Sam moved his head further down. Tommie extended his left hand and Sam gripped it as if drowning. He stood, then Tommie let go. They left Jenny's room together, only Tommie looking back.

Nothing was said as the men walked along the short corridor. As Jenny had pulled up her jeans, Sam had raced downstairs, calling Tommie. By the time Jenny was at the bottom step, Sam had his keys and wallet, and they were in the Buick, down the road, Tommie's new truck on their heels. They had reached the emergency room together, Rae on her way. When she entered the back cubicle, Sam and Jenny were in tears, Tommie holding her hand. It had happened with little pain, little fanfare. A baby had been conceived, but hadn't survived.

During the day, Tommie noted a few odd moments. Rae's aloofness was expected, but not Debbie's. Max and Liz seemed set apart, but Steve had been there for Sam as Sylvia was for Jenny. Otherwise all was as Tommie might have predicted, if this could have been foreseen. There hadn't been any warning, no problems. Jenny hadn't even felt any pain.

Not within her body. Her biggest anguish concerned the father and Tommie hoped Jenny wouldn't feel guilty. He didn't think she would, but Sam was barely breathing. As long as Jenny could separate what had happened and not blame herself, after time she would be okay.

Watching Sam slump into the Buick, Tommie had no idea as to that man's future mental state.

Tommie followed Sam as far as the Smith driveway. Sam had driven as Tommie expected, not in a hurry, as Jenny was sleeping when they left. The Buick ambled along the road, turning at the sign for Alvin's farm. Tommie watched until he couldn't see Sam's taillights. With a load of cars in his own driveway, Tommie went to console his wife.

Rae was on the couch, Will asleep in her arms, wrapped in one of Jenny's blankets. The afghan she had made for Tommie and Rae covered them, Rae drenched in dark blue, deep red, and pale yellow yarn. The fire popped and with Alana on one side and Debbie on the other, Rae swayed with that baby in her grasp.

Jacob had the big chair while Max, Steve, and Scott were drawn around their parents. Marcy and Liz could be heard in the kitchen and Tommie smelled coffee.

"Decaf, I hope," he said, as his youngest daughter stood.

"Yeah," Alana sniffed, giving him a hug.

"Good. Anyone call Lexi?"

"I did," Steve said. "Says she'll drive up in the morning."

"Okay." Tommie nodded to Jacob and they went into the dining room.

Tommie wanted to sit next to his wife, would do that as soon as he spoke to Sam's brother. "He's at the house. Why don't you go check on him?"

Jacob shuddered. "I've never seen him look that goddamned bad, not even with Lillian."

"I know."

Rejoining the others, neither man wished for a drink, which surprised them both. Only some coffee, without caffeine. No need to stay up this night, nothing to wait for.

Tommie took that open seat next to Rae as Marcy and Liz brought coffee to all. After one quick sip, Tommie leaned back and felt Rae start to relax.

"Lana, take him. I think he's ready."

Rae's voice was altered, but Tommie was sure no one else noticed. Nobody understood what this meant to Rae Smith. Not even Debbie knew.

Alana collected Will, but didn't set him over her shoulder. He looked like a sacrifice in her grasp, and Scott followed her up the stairs. On Halloween Tommie had been glad Alana went up alone. Now he was equally relieved Scott was on her heels.

"Listen, when Jacob gets back, we'll go. She's going home tomorrow, right?"

Tommie leaned over Rae's head, looking right at Debbie. "Yeah. She could've come home tonight but..."

"Good she's there, good for them both," Rae said.

Tommie patted her leg. "I think so too."

Alana came down first, Scott right behind her. "Mom, I'll meet you and Dad at home."

"Okay honey. We won't be long."

Alana walked Scott as far as the front door, then turned to her parents. "I'm going to bed. See you all in the morning."

Tommie nodded, but Rae was motionless. Both Max and Steve stepped up, three siblings holding each other tight. Max's arm hung limp, then it jerked. Tommie saw that twitch, but Max said nothing, and Tommie didn't mention it.

Lana kissed Tommie's cheek. Then she squeezed her mother's hand, not even calling goodnight to her sisters-in-law. It was strange, but then, the whole day had been wrong.

Marcy and Liz remained in the kitchen, Tommie hearing their small conversation, about Jenny, Sam too, but mostly about the mother. Unaware of Sam's loss, they only thought of Jenny. Steve and Max didn't know either, but they stared anxiously at Rae.

Should they know, Tommie wondered. They were married now, but so damn young. Tommie had only been twenty when Rae miscarried, hardly any older than his sons. Maybe he would tell them, so Rae's behavior wouldn't seem so odd.

Then Jacob returned. Tommie hadn't expected him back that quickly, but as soon as Jacob was through the door, Debbie stood. All were ready to end this day.

"He's getting a few clothes together, for her too. Said he'd be heading back there real soon."

Liz heard her father and came through, Marcy behind her. "Is he gonna be okay?"

Jacob gave a stilted nod. "Yeah, after time."

Time; Tommie thought about that as Debbie got her coat. He pondered time as some great healer while Jacob said goodnight, then considered time being a cure-all as Steve and Max kissed their mother, taking their wives home. Then in silence, Tommie allowed that perhaps yes, time might ease Sam's agony. He helped Rae off the sofa, led her to their room where both undressed and got into bed.

Perhaps, Tommie sighed, as Rae turned away from him. Maybe time might alleviate some of Sam's pain.

It took a few minutes for Sam to gather the necessary clothes. Not for his children, only two children, but items that Jenny would need. Sweatpants and new underwear, a clean bra, socks, and a sweater. Those were packed in a small duffel, waiting on the couch. He had taken care of that first, before Jacob appeared.

Jacob knew he was hurting, was there for him, how Sam knew Jacob wasn't going to get drunk. Tommie might, Sam had thought, but looking at Jacob's eyes, loving and concerned, Sam's brother would remain sober.

After Jacob left, Sam had one more task before going to the woman he loved. She didn't have his child inside her, but he loved her, seemed to love her even more. When she had gripped his hand in the emergency room he had wondered for only seconds; once that baby was gone, would he still love her as much as before?

It was her eyes, those brown, open eyes, and yes, Sam did still love her. Not that Jenny had changed, but perhaps he had stepped back in order to save himself. No, Sam hadn't done that.

Nor had he diminished Chelsea and Will, clinging to them on and off once Sylvia brought them to the hospital. He had needed to hear them call him Daddy or Da-da, filling his empty heart with some tiny piece that mattered. Sam was attempting to walk the plank that his life mattered.

It did, barely. In Jenny, Chelsea, and Will, Sam still was needed. He no longer cared about the farm, the trees, this house. Not stocks or news or Tommie Smith. Not even his brother, Sam had thought, until Jacob arrived. Finding he was sober and would stay that way allowed Sam's sibling back into the fold. Otherwise, everything else could go to hell.

Including his writing; Sam had gone up all the stairs after Jacob left, ripping the unfinished page from the carriage bar, then collected the rest of his manuscript. Except for the three chapters Keith Baxter had, all Sam had written since returning to Arkendale sat in his hands. Then sheet by sheet it landed in the fireplace, burned to ash as Sam lit matches against the brick.

When he returned to the hospital, Jenny was restless, and only as he settled against her did she calm. He hadn't cried yet, but in smelling a mix of her and disinfectant, Sam shuddered.

"Baby, oh Sam honey!"

She turned to him as he hid in her blanket. She felt warm, soft, and empty. Sam began to cry.

"It's okay baby, we're alone now. Sam, I love you. Just let it out."

He wept, wondering how they might step forward. He felt her embrace; only her arms held him together. Then she paused.

"Sam, what's that smell?"

He wanted to say it was her, how she smelled during her period, but it was a miscarriage. Their baby had been miscarried. Instead he shrugged.

"Did you build a fire?" she asked.

"No," he muttered.

"Baby, I love you. We'll get through this. We will honey, we will."

Sam Cassel sobbed in silence.

Chapter 14

Jenny went home on Saturday as if the surroundings were different. Sam stared at the road. She reached for his hand, then felt eased.

When she stepped through her front door, steadied by Sam's arm, a fire crackled, soup bubbled. Then Jenny heard her daughter, followed by her son.

Sam led her to the sofa where he voiced quiet admonishments; Mama was still tender, Mama needed soft touches. Jenny thought Sam needed the easy hand, but as children cloaked her from the truth, Jenny closed her eyes. She heard Sylvia's voice, Tommie's too, Jacob and Steve but not their wives, or Keith or Rae. Then Jenny imagined _what if?_ Opening her eyes, with Sam next to her, she knew. There was never a _what if_ ; not when her father had left her bed, not when Alvin died, not now.

"Mama, you okay?" Chelsea asked, sitting on Jenny's right side.

Will clung to his mother. She hadn't seen them since yesterday afternoon, then only for a few minutes. Jenny imagined Will didn't remember that and later, when they were alone, she would see what Chelsea had stored away.

"Oh Chelse, I'm so much better for seeing you."

Jenny didn't note tears shed or worried glances exchanged between those present. All she saw was her lively, blonde children and a haunted, frightened man.

Sounds slipped in her ears during those initial moments back home. She had spent a week at the Smiths after Alvin died, but now she returned to her house within a day. Only a day ago she was pregnant. Things changed and as she stared at Sam's withered countenance, Jenny inhaled the soup, probably chicken, also finding the scent of burning wood. Then she remembered how Sam smelled when he came back to the hospital last night; smoky, but not this warm woody aroma. Sam had smelled hollow, cold, angry.

That was how he looked in front of her, and how Tommie had appeared when drunk months ago. Stepping back into her life, Jenny stored details for later examination. She usually wasn't so introspective, but because of her past, this loss wasn't as brutal as she imagined. Or it wasn't as bad for her as it was for others.

Jenny had never lost a baby. She had lost her family, her lover. Her childhood had been stolen, she'd been violated in the most abusive and inhumane manner. This loss wasn't trivialized, but as Sam had just told her, shit happens. Looking into his beaten, dispirited eyes, Jenny felt a strange flicker. All kinds of shit had happened to Jenny Cope, but she wasn't alone. Sam wasn't dead. He was close to it, but still breathed.

"We'll let you get settled. If you need anything, you can pick up the phone."

Jenny nodded, Tommie's voice as if nothing horrible had occurred.

"Honey, that soup's done, just simmering."

Sylvia kissed Jenny's cheek, then caressed the children's heads. She left Sam alone, gathering her things from the table by the door.

"Thanks Sylvia," Jenny said.

Sylvia gave a small smile and took her leave.

During that goodbye Jacob and Steve patted Sam's shoulders. Jenny waved their way, then heard Tommie's footsteps.

He knelt in front of all four, getting kisses from the kids. Jenny blinked away tears, wishing he could stay, but knowing he needed to go.

"We love you. Ring if you need anything."

"We'll do that." It was the first thing Sam had said since they came home.

Jenny squeezed Tommie's hands. Then he was up and out the door.

Throughout the day Jenny paused at various moments, remembering she wasn't pregnant, having seen what she assumed was Sam doing the same. Chelsea had been told the baby was in heaven with her papa. She asked a few questions, then seemed to forget her mother was ever expecting another child. Jenny had mixed feelings about that, but said nothing.

By bedtime, the children were whiny. After they were put to bed, Chelsea even dared to sneak down the stairs. She found her parents huddled on the couch under a blanket, both in tears. Usually Chelsea might get spanked for getting out of bed, but this time she was tucked into their arms and smothered with kisses.

Once she was asleep, Sam spoke. "Now I know why you needed her so much after he died."

"They're a tonic."

Chelsea stirred with their voices. "Mama?"

"What honey?"

"Where's the baby?"

"In heaven with Papa."

"Where's heaven? Will I go there?"

Jenny waited for Sam to answer. He said nothing.

"Yeah Chelse. We all will."

"Okay."

Chelsea nestled against Jenny while Sam stroked her cheek. "You ready for bed Chelse?"

The girl nodded and Sam climbed over the back, then came around, collecting his daughter. Jenny sat up, taking in the small pops from the dying fire.

Sam didn't return right away and Jenny got up slowly, everything done that day in sluggish, halting movements. She had painkillers to take, but didn't wish to be in a fog. She needed to be quick, or at least clear-headed. Sam needed her attention.

He still hadn't come down and she locked the door, placing the grate in front of the fire. By the time she reached the stairs, he approached, looking tearful.

"You okay?" she asked.

He shook his head. "You ready for bed?"

"Yeah."

Together they walked up and after Sam secured the gate, they went in their room. Neither had slept there since Jenny had pulled down her jeans. She was already dressed in her nightshirt and all she had to do was take down her sweatpants.

She felt self conscious, the first time with Sam. Not that they could have sex, not for several weeks, then no attempt at conception for another two months. Another baby; her baby had only been dead for one day. Could Jenny even contemplate another?

Sam waited in bed. She looked at him, the small side light on. He couldn't meet her face.

Removing the sweats, she felt far more naked than if she'd been nude. She walked with care to her side of the bed, pulled back the blankets, then sat. A thick pad lined her underwear; she had only changed it an hour before. Maybe in the middle of the night she would need a new one, but all she wanted was to lie down, close her eyes. Set this day to the side, another day of firsts.

"Jenny, I love you."

She turned to him, those gray eyes all over her.

"I love you too."

"Lay down honey."

And she did. Then he was beside her and while they couldn't make love, they lay close, their legs tangled, as well as their hearts.

By Sunday night an international incident was in the works. Iranian university students had stormed the American Embassy in Tehran, taking over sixty hostages.

Jenny watched the evening news all week, absorbing an event similar to ones that occurred this time last year, in places far away that had little to do with her own life. Yet, she was caught up in the siege, feeling perhaps her baby had been swept away alongside embassy staff and soldiers on duty. It seemed to take Sam's mind from their loss, as he and Steve talked about it when Steve came round.

That first week Jenny and Sam had made a few decisions. One was about their wedding. It was still on, but postponed. Instead of the twenty-first, they would marry on the twenty-eighth, then spend that weekend in Eugene celebrating the new year. The main reason to move the ceremony was personal; Jenny and Sam could have sex if they waited the extra seven days.

Jenny wished they could make love now; it might hasten the healing process. If she could reach Sam in that manner, maybe he wouldn't be so... Miserable, depressed, not suicidal, but as low as Jenny had ever seen him. She told him these thoughts in the middle of the night when they woke, needing the other. Sam hadn't had an erection since the miscarriage and Jenny didn't feel aroused, but as she had wished for someone with whom to cuddle after Alvin died, she wondered if that sort of recovery would do Sam some good. He wasn't writing, which surprised her. He hadn't gone up to the third level since Jenny came home, staying close to her and their children. Tommie had dropped off some milk and bread, in addition to meals Rae made, but Rae hadn't accompanied.

In addition to the change in the wedding date, Sam announced he didn't want to put in any new trees. "Why don't you want to expand the orchard?" Jenny asked after lunch on Friday. "I thought we decided this was the way to go. Didn't you already pay for the trees?"

"I can tell Jeff to stop the check or hell, I don't know."

Jenny pulled her chair close to him, but didn't reach for his hand. "Sam, what's going on?"

"I just don't give a fuck! It doesn't matter now."

"Of course it matters. It's for us, the kids. Sam please, don't do this!"

She had made him promise to not hold things inside, that they would talk about whatever he wanted, or if nothing else, that he wouldn't lie to her. This felt like a huge untruth and they had told each other everything.

Jenny knew Sam didn't blame her; he didn't necessarily blame himself either. Abandoning the expanded orchard was one way for him to shut down just as he had lived in Portland, out of the way, avoiding his family. The grieving process couldn't be rushed, but to summarily dismiss what he had been planning for a year...

"Honey, if this's because you want more time to write or you just don't wanna be a farmer, okay, but..."

"I'm not writing. Not anymore."

"Sam, maybe not now, but I mean..."

"Jenny, I'm not gonna write anymore, period."

"Why?"

He stood, then moved to the sink, looking at a day cloudy and cold. "Because I don't give a shit about it."

"But honey, you might. You might change your mind..."

"Jenny, I burned every single fucking page. It went up the chimney, all of it!"

His angry, bitter tone startled her more than his volume or language. She approached him slowly, wondering if he had felt this way after Tracy and Lillian had died. He was so young then, but now he was an adult who felt cheated and deserted, a man who couldn't produce his own progeny.

His work had gone, for what did it matter? Jenny stood within a foot; if she was that close Sam always touched her, brought her to him. This time she reached for his hands, chilled all through. "Sam, you matter. You matter to me, to the kids, our kids. Their father's dead, the one who made them. He climbed a stupid tree when he _knew_ I was coming home to tell him we were having another baby. But instead Alvin went up that fucking beech and fell out, and why'd he do that? I have no idea, just like I have no idea why I lost our baby. Neither makes any sense, but I can hold your hands, look at you. You're alive, here, with me. I made a baby with you, but guess what Sam? You didn't die. Neither did I. We've both lost ones we love, but even if Tracy hadn't died, Lillian still wouldn't have made it."

She hadn't meant to go that far, but some buried irritation toward Alvin meshed with Sam's daughter. If someone wanted to keep score, Jenny had a pencil and paper in hand.

"I know this's gonna take time, I know that. But baby, you can't start throwing away pieces of your life, pieces of yourself like it'll hurt less. That's what I did for twelve years, then I found myself here. I was nothing more than a shell, yet, you fell in love with me, Alvin did too. The two of you found _something_ worthwhile within me, I don't know what in the hell that was, but you did. There's so much inside you Samuel Eric Cassel, or else I wouldn't marry you next month. But I'll tell you this, don't start throwing away the man I love. I lost one and damnit Sam, I am _not_ gonna lose another!"

Her greatest fear, since realizing her baby was dead, had come upon seeing Sam's disheveled face, wondering if he could take this news. Jenny could, she had suffered worse. She loved him, would stand by him to the end as long as she knew he wouldn't fall away. He could fall apart and she would put him back together. But he could _not_ disappear.

Then arms came around her, a voice in her ear, her name long, fluid, whole. In saying _Jenny Cope_ , Sam grasped for his life. Jenny nodded, hoping she would be enough.

Chapter 15

First birthdays for the Harris children tended to be small affairs. Chelsea's had followed her parents' bitter fight about increasing their family and Will turned one year old on the heels of his mother's miscarriage.

Will and Chelsea knew nothing of what swirled over them, not their recovering mother, nor their father who had downed a few beers that afternoon. By five o'clock, Sam was loaded, in the men's care. Rae and Debbie kept Chelsea occupied, but as Will blew out his candle, Sam sat drunk in the big chair, Tommie behind him.

A brother and nephew stood at Sam's sides, but Jenny stayed away, annoyed he had chosen that day to lose it. For two weeks his moods had swayed, but he had stayed sober. As hostages remained in Iran, Sam was just as locked away, Jenny as helpless as if he was in the Middle East. The beech sported a large yellow ribbon as did many trees all over town. A few hostages had been released, but fifty men and two women remained imprisoned, with no imminent liberation in sight.

Jenny had made a cake, then spaghetti and meatballs, throwing out the last can of formula that morning. It was Monday the nineteenth and in addition to the news from Iran, the first anniversary of the Peoples Temple suicides hovered. Robert had called, checking on her and telling of vigils commemorating the assassinations of Harvey Milk and George Moscone. With all that, Jenny had a hard time dismissing a pervading sense of doom.

The only bright spot had been Will's birthday, but Sam had thrown a wet blanket on that. Their wedding was next and she wondered if the week's postponement would be enough. Maybe they would wait until 1980.

Maybe even longer, Jenny sighed, as Jacob and Tommie hoisted Sam's inebriated frame from the chair, heading to the stairs.

In the middle of the night, Jenny woke to the sound of someone vomiting. Her bed was empty and she rushed to the bathroom, finding Sam over the toilet. She knelt beside him, but there was no hair to hold back. He'd gotten a severe cut last week, irritating Chelsea. Jenny had commented that she liked it. Sam looked better with short hair, but she had warned him not to lose the beard.

He had smiled, said she was the boss. Now she felt anything but. After he was done, she handed him some toilet paper. Sam wiped his mouth, then leaned against the wall.

"You need anything?" she asked.

He shook his head, then nodded. "Water."

Jenny returned with a glass, but the bathroom was empty. So was their bedroom. The nursery door was mostly closed, but noise on the third floor led her upstairs.

She set the cup on his empty writing desk, then sat on the bed, the room dark except for small light in the break of curtains. Jenny watched Sam's outline, heard his breathing.

He reached for her hand and she gripped him, then loosened her grasp. He tightened his and she responded. They clutched, then released the other, until Sam pulled her beside him.

Vomit, beer, and sorrow mingled, a heady scent hinting to much held below. Jenny wondered if it was too late for Sam to take a bath. It could wake the children, but might be worth it.

"Jenny, I'm sorry."

"I love you. We just gotta take each day as it comes."

"No, I mean, for fucking up Will's day. God, what a bastard he's got for a father."

"At least you're alive."

It popped out and Jenny smiled. She wondered if Sam could see it, was there enough light? Was he even looking at her?

There was enough light and he had been looking at her. She knew because he giggled.

"Not alive by much," he said, swallowing a chuckle.

"No, not by much. Enough though." She snuggled against him, even though he smelled.

"Honey, I'm really sorry. I mean it. You take pictures?"

"Yeah. You'll see them when I turn them in."

He coughed, then spoke; "Jenny, you still wanna, you know..."

"What?"

"Marry me. You still want to get married?"

Jenny sat up, finding anxiety in his eyes. "Well yeah. You think you can get out of it by turning into Tommie or your brother?"

She inhaled. Family was family, her lover included. "You proposed to me, Sam. If you've had a change of heart, too bad."

"Jenny, I can't live without you. Jesus, this hurts so goddamned much!"

Like all her silences as her father lay over her, deepening the horror; she had implored Sam to be honest with her. No matter what he had to say, Jenny knew he needed to say it.

"Tell me Sam."

She stroked short hairs along his temple, a few grays recently appearing. She didn't think it was since they lost the baby, but with less hair, now they stood out, accentuating of his biggest fears; he was too old, time was against him.

Gray littered his beard; Sam wasn't young, in his mid-thirties. Alvin had always seemed youthful, but Sam was an adult and Jenny set her hand on his chest. "Honey, the silence is the worst. Maybe you heard that when Lillian died, I always heard it with my father until he was done. Then he told me to be quiet, to just go to sleep. Baby, don't numb this, don't try to blot it out. I know it hurts, I know it's shitty. Please, I love you, all I want is to help you."

Sam had offered similar advice when she and Alvin were apart, then again after he died. Jenny wished there was no need for it, but here they were in a strange bed where Sam had written words he'd not shown her. Now he needed to tell her, not hide.

His breathing relaxed, maybe he would go to sleep. She would give him tonight, as many nights as he needed, but not ones where he was the drunk being helped into bed. Jenny would not sit while her husband drank himself into near oblivion.

Sam seemed unconscious and Jenny thought about after Alvin had died, longing for the one she loved. Maybe if she hadn't suffered that loss, she would be less patient now.

Now Jenny would wait, even if Sam did tie one on now and again. That she could take; truthfully she would take whatever he could manage, for she knew the other side. Jenny never wanted to feel that again.

She would leave Sam here tonight, give him space. Before she could move from the bed, he turned to her, an erection pressing into her leg.

"Jenny please, don't go."

Tears fell, for the request and his stiffness; he had been flaccid since she lost the baby. She hadn't felt anything either, but had considered loving him again. On their honeymoon, Jenny would be physically healed and while she didn't need to come that night, she wanted Sam to.

"Baby, I'll stay, whatever you want."

What did he want, she wondered, feeling him scoot away as she laid down. "Sam," she began, but then stopped, not wishing to pressure him.

"Jenny Cope, you remember how we first made love?"

"Uh-huh. Sam, take off all your clothes."

That was exactly what she had said to him after the Baxters' party, after she undressed to her half-slip, and after she had taken off most of his clothes. Jenny had told Sam to lie down, get naked. She watched as he did the same there in that bed they had just used a few weeks before.

Running her mouth along his torso, she heard no words, only the slippage of pain. Reaching his erection, Jenny inhaled, sorrow absent from this part of him. He smelled as he had before and as she took him in her mouth, a great gasp left his lungs. Jenny stayed where she was until another release emerged.

After that, Sam no longer drank. He was still moody, but Jenny knew that would last a long time. Maybe not until they had another baby, but that she kept to herself.

He wasn't writing, but had started running again. As Will took a few stairs at a time, Jenny pulled boxes of Christmas decorations from what had been Alvin's bedroom on the third floor. She sorted the items she wanted to display, foremost being the nativity.

She told Chelsea and Will why the Baby Jesus wasn't set out with his parents until Christmas Day. "That's what your papa told me," she said.

"Is Baby Jesus with Papa and the baby?" Chelsea asked.

Sam held his daughter and Jenny saw him wince as Will reached for the remaining figures.

"Yeah Chelse," both Jenny and Sam said at the same time.

"Oh well, that's good."

Jenny stroked her daughter's cheek, moving Will from Mary and Joseph. Then she wiped Sam's tears, ones his children didn't see. "Yeah it is honey. It sure is."

Thanksgiving was at the Smiths, but the Baxters weren't coming, instead heading to California. Sylvia hadn't wanted to leave, but Jenny insisted. In a way, it was easier without them, although Jenny missed Sylvia's loving words. Keith still had Sam's first three chapters, another tender issue with Jenny's lover.

The day was mostly jovial, although Jenny felt distanced from Max and Liz. Lexi was clingy and Jenny appreciated so many who loved her; never in her past had that been the case.

Men clustered in the living room watching football. Will was in Rae's grasp, but she said little to Jenny one-on-one, chatting about Christmas and general wedding tidbits. Then it hit Rae; what was Jenny going to wear?

Before it had been assumed something with a maternity flair. Now Jenny could choose whatever she wanted. It hadn't been high on her list of priorities but once Rae mentioned it, Jenny considered looking in Albany or Salem. She didn't want a white gown, only something soft, comfortable, a dress Sam might like.

"Rae, I haven't even thought about it. I guess any old dress will do."

Will laughed as if aware how his aunt might respond.

"Any dress will do? Did I hear that right? Jenny, for God's sake, this's your wedding! Any old dress will certainly not do."

It was Rae's usual tenor, which Jenny hadn't heard since the beginning of the month. She knew why, but from the looks around her, she was the only one.

"Well, I mean, if it was warmer, I'd just wear the one you made me for Sylvia's party."

"Jesus Christ girl, it's your wedding! I know it's just here, no big hall or anything, but, well, what's Sam wearing?"

Jenny and Sam hadn't discussed it. "Well, let me go ask him."

Amid a plethora of males, Jenny approached Sam, who sat alone in the big chair. "So Rae wants to know what you're wearing to our wedding."

She didn't know a touchdown was imminent and her words stopped all attention to the TV, except for Max, who tried to ignore anything Jenny said.

"What? She wants to know what?"

"Sam, what're you wearing to our wedding?"

"How 'bout his birthday suit?" Tommie grinned.

Jenny gave a teasing smile as Max tried to stifle a giggle.

"Can't you talk about this in the kitchen?" Jacob groaned. "We're watching football!"

"Jacob Cassel, you stay outta this!" Rae's boom traveled from the hallway.

On Sam's face sat some small pleasure and Jenny wished he knew about Rae's miscarriage. Then he would understand how retained sorrow ruined a person.

The banter came thick as Rae moved to the living room and Sam reached for Jenny, taking her on his lap. His touch felt healing. Jenny knew a great emptiness inside her, but it was tempered when she faced Sam's hurt.

By dinnertime, Jenny had chosen a frock from Rae's patterns. Sam would wear a dress shirt, nice slacks, but no tie. Not for all Rae's cajoling would Sam be moved.

That night Jenny felt the first signs that Sam might return to his old self. It wouldn't be without some alteration, as she wasn't the same Jenny Cope since Alvin's death. Another layer was being added to them both, but Jenny didn't want it to be the hard shell Rae sported. That night, Jenny would talk to Tommie, see if he minded if Sam knew the reason.

It wasn't until after pie that Jenny got a minute alone with her brother. He had gone to the barn and Jenny found him peering over a gate where cattle rested quietly. A few _moos_ emerged and Jenny was glad he hadn't asked Chelsea to come with him. Not only would she be unable to ask her question, but they would have been there all night.

He motioned for her. "Hey honey, you bored or just trying to escape washing up?"

It broke the ice, as Jenny had barely done a thing all day. All had been in far more capable hands, or at least ones that held little upset. Liz had given Jenny a hug, then shed a few tears, and things between them were smooth after that. Max, however, was still frosty and Jenny wondered if Tommie had noticed.

"Just getting a minute with my favorite brother," she smiled as his right arm enveloped her.

"Your only brother, thank you very much."

"My one and only."

He kissed her cheek, then Jenny rested her head on his shoulder. He had been a sounding board the last three weeks, three weeks since... "Tommie, I wanna ask you something."

"Honey, first I need to tell you something. I told the boys about their, well, about the miscarriage. Mine and Rae's."

Jenny pulled back, saw a man freed, or half-free; he'd only told Steve and Max. "Why?"

"Because Rae's been, oh God. Since you and Sam, well, shit. She's just been, well, worse."

Jenny hadn't expected Rae to be chummy, maybe others had. "Tommie, my god! How'd they take it?" How did Max take it, she wanted to ask.

"Well, they were surprised, I mean, I didn't say anything to Lexi or Lana, just the boys. They're married now, hell, could have their own kids." Tommie sighed. "They see how she is, maybe it was time for them to know why."

"Are you gonna tell the girls?"

He sighed again, then kicked the wooden slat near his boot. One cow turned its head, then gave a long _moo_.

"Maybe Lexi. Not Lana, not for a long time. I suppose they have a right to know, and well, yeah, I should tell Lex, maybe tomorrow."

"I came out to ask if I could tell Sam." Jenny felt like smiling, but held back. "I had no idea you'd said anything to Steve or Max. But Sam's mentioned that Rae seems, well..."

"Honey, you do that. Then he'll see what happens when shit doesn't get sorted."

It was the harshest Jenny had ever heard Tommie speak about his wife. She nodded, then moved closer to him. They said nothing, but soon voices found them, Chelsea coming in a run.

"Cows!" she squeaked.

The bovines mooed as if on cue.

"I love cows," she answered, trying to climb the wooden gate.

Tommie picked her up as Sam approached with Will.

"How'd you pry him from his auntie?" Jenny asked.

"Needed his diaper changed," Sam smiled.

"Well, I hope you did that before you brought him out," Tommie laughed.

"Actually Lana did it."

"You have to pay her?" Tommie grinned.

"Said you'd give her a buck."

"A dollar? My God, talk about inflation!"

Jenny listened to them chat as if life was always this carefree and innocuous. As her daughter called for the cows, Jenny leaned against Sam, feeling his familiar warmth, smelling only the animals and a freshly diapered baby.

That night in bed, Jenny told Sam about Tommie and Rae, and that Steve and Max were aware. Sam was stunned with both pieces of news, then shared with Jenny what happened after she and Tommie left the house.

Will had indeed needed his diaper changed, Rae passing the stinky boy to his father, holding Will at arm's length, but not just from the smell. That was as close as Rae could get to Sam. Everyone laughed, assuming the former, but Steve and Max had stared at their mother. Then Max stood abruptly. Taking Liz's hand, he left for the dining room.

Sam was more concerned with changing Will before anything spread. As Alana took the baby, Sam watched a shift occur, women and men in the living room, but the younger couples left for the dining room. The door was closed, and after Lana brought Will back, Sam took his children to find their mother.

"I wonder if the boys told their sisters, I mean, Tommie said he'd only said something to Steve and Max. I don't even know if Marcy and Liz are aware."

Sam shrugged, then leaned Jenny's way. "Honey, I love you. I wish, oh Christ!"

"Baby, all you can do is take it one day at a time." Jenny held him, then decided to push the envelope. "Sam, can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"I uh, all I want is you to be honest. If you can't answer me, that's fine, but honey..."

"Jenny, I dunno."

The question was plain in her voice. In the spring, she wanted to try again. Jenny was sure another attempt wouldn't end as this one had. She hadn't lost Will, and he was fine, no matter what Bonnie Carmine might have assumed.

"That's okay honey, I just want you to be honest."

They were quiet as light rain hit the roof in places Jenny felt Alvin had known, at one time or another, that man unable to keep his feet on the ground.

He was out there, and her baby was with him. Was there a heaven, some place over their heads? Or was it closer; in her dreams Alvin had told her things, some which she remembered, one piece just past her grasp, like he was. But Jenny was sure Alvin cradled that lost child.

Was that why he died, she considered in the stillness, a quiet punctured by Sam's sigh.

She knew that sound, prefacing some comment he had to make. "Yeah honey?"

"Probably," was his answer. "Probably Jenny, probably."

Chapter 16

December was busy with doctor visits, dress fittings, a birthday party, and wedding preparations. Houses were purchased, Christmas cards sent, hostages detained, and throughout Jenny and Sam tread lightly around the notion of more children. For all that month did include, thoughts of a subsequent baby were barely mentioned.

Hard to squeeze that in when making hotel reservations for their short honeymoon, viewing properties, buying presents and a new car. Instead of purchasing a Chevy van, Sam chose a Honda Civic station wagon, claiming the Buick was too old and wasted fuel. Sam confided to Tommie that he hoped to get Jenny behind the wheel in the coming year; perhaps she would feel more comfortable in a compact car. It was the Cassel-Cope's Christmas present to each other, but soon, they would both be Cassels.

Jenny wasn't eager to get her license, but she liked the new vehicle. She drove on their deserted lane, remembering the feel of a clutch, noting her children right behind her in the back seat. Yet she left it to Sam when they went places as a family, checking on either Steve or Max's new homes, or even to the Smith farm. Jenny had no urge to get her license, no reason.

On Friday the fourteenth, Jenny and Sam dropped off the kids at Sylvia and Keith's, then saw Dr. Fisher, who pronounced Jenny in good health. Reminding the couple to wait until March before attempting another conception, he asked if they needed birth control and Sam said no. Two boxes of Trojans remained in his upper drawer, what they would use on their honeymoon. Not because Sam was hoping to make another baby in the spring, but only due to Jenny's intolerance of birth control pills. After all she had suffered, Sam wouldn't add to her woes.

Since Will's birthday, Sam only had a few sips of beer with Grant and Eric Schumacher right after Thanksgiving. Grant seemed restless but there was nothing for Sam to offer him, and now Grant pined for spring. The Schumacher brothers were sad to hear the planned orchard additions were being reconsidered, but Sam assured Grant that come March, there would be chores needing willing hands. Grant seemed placated and after he went in the house, Eric thanked Sam once again. If Grant had a goal, the next few months wouldn't be so hard.

Sam wondered about those next few months, driving Jenny from the doctor back to their house. Sylvia and Keith would return the kids that afternoon and Jenny would wrap presents while they were out. The tree waited in the living room and she would decorate it tomorrow, Tommie's birthday party that evening. It wasn't going to be a big bash, for in two weeks the Smiths would host another party. More elaborate was a wedding reception, even if the ceremony was small.

When Jenny and Sam arrived home, the quiet seemed odd, but the smell of pine filled the downstairs, and Sam stoked the fire. Jenny had been subdued at the appointment and he couldn't gauge her mood. She hadn't started her period, Dr. Fisher noting it might be another few weeks. By spring, she would be on a normal schedule and Sam endured the bland, colorless language as Jenny's doctor pronounced her out of danger. Sam tried to focus on that. Jenny wasn't in any danger.

She didn't want to drive, not wishing to raise any suspicions of her whereabouts, things Tracy had _not_ done. Lately Sam had been dreaming of his late wife, but instead of going upstairs and typing his thoughts, he had lain next to Jenny, listening to her breathe.

While she made lunch, Sam brought in firewood. On his last trip, Max Smith drove up, his white pick-up splattered with mud. Sam smiled, placing logs on the ground, walking to where Max parked.

"What's up?" Sam asked as Max stepped from the truck. He wore a heavy coat, keeping his lame arm out of the sleeve. The jacket was zipped closed and Sam realized Max had been wearing it that way since cold weather hit.

"Just making sure you and Jenny are coming down tonight. Mom was, uh, worried."

"Yeah, we'll be there. Five, right?"

"Yeah."

Usually there would be talk of the Seahawks or other light conversation. Since having learned of his parents' loss, the wind seemed knocked from Max's sails. He had recovered most of his spirit after his accident, but other issues had intruded, wearing down this newly married young man.

"So, having a pretty good year up in Seattle," Sam said.

Max couldn't hide his pleasure. "Yeah, I mean, not bad at all."

For five minutes they spoke of football, excitement returning to Max's voice, even his body. His left arm gestured the news; Seattle was looking to finish above .500 in only their fourth year in the league. Who knew they could turn things around so quickly?

The back door rattled, Jenny calling for lunch.

"Be there in a minute," Sam hollered. "Max, you wanna join us?"

"Oh, I should be going."

"Okay."

Max turned to his truck. Before he opened the door, he looked back. "Sam, tell Jenny..."

"Yeah?"

Max looked at the beech tree, then to the ground. Was he trying to spot where Alvin had fallen? Max stared at the dirt, no snow yet that winter.

"Tell Jenny that I'll be around soon. I need to tell her something."

That night Tommie received few gifts, but plenty of ribbing about his age. He complained that Jacob was already forty-three and no one had bothered him.

"Well, he looks it," Sam said. "All that gray hair."

"You've got a few white ones poking from your scalp, Sam. Don't think that short cut's gonna hide them."

Tommie's voice brought laughter, most setting aside a reason Sam might be looking older. It was nearly Christmas, Lexi was coming home next week, and Sam and Jenny's wedding was a fortnight away.

The talk moved to that ceremony; Sam hadn't seen Jenny's dress. It was a surprise, Rae huffed, at least one traditional element to this rather thrown-together affair. In her arms Will babbled in agreement, bringing laughter from all. Sam noticed how Jenny said little. She looked tired and he moved toward her, passing by Rae and his son, giving each a kiss.

Will said _Da-da_ , but Rae looked flustered. Once Sam reached Jenny, they moved from the room. He placed his hands on her face and shoulder. "You okay?"

"I feel crampy. Maybe we can go home."

Sam nodded, the doctor's plain words running in his head. Maybe she wasn't one hundred percent and if there was any reason at all, Sam would run her to the ER.

"Let me just go to the bathroom," Jenny whispered.

"Okay."

He remained in the hallway, hearing Christmas wishes. He had been hoping to hear his child's heartbeat by now. Instead a small Honda sat outside Tommie's house, no need for a multi-passenger van. Sam swallowed hard, wished for a beer, then heard the toilet flush. Jenny stepped out, small relief on her face.

"What?" he asked.

She touched his thick beard, which contrasted with his short hair. Then she set his palm to her belly, the first time since early November Sam's hand had been there.

"I'm finally starting my period," she sighed.

That night Sam slept about as well had he had the last few weeks. Which was poorly, but without a reason to go upstairs to type, all he did was lay next to Jenny. She was bleeding, but this time, it was all right.

She had been glad to get home, change her underwear, but she wasn't using tampons, the doctor advising her to use pads during this first cycle. Sam was a modern man and it was almost 1980, but even there in the doctor's office those terms had seemed discomforting. Since Sam had come home, Jenny had been pregnant, then nursing. She'd only had two cycles since giving birth to Will, then she was pregnant again.

Now she was a menstruating woman, bleeding only because of Eve. Sam smiled, women cursed since the beginning of biblical time.

Since 1965 Sam felt had cursed; if Lillian had lived, been normal, she would only be a little younger than Alana and Scott. If the baby hadn't been lost, Will and his younger sibling would be eighteen months apart. Now at least two years would sit between... Sam shuddered. Was he actually contemplating another child?

Jenny was, from their short conversation after Thanksgiving and the few noises she had let slip. Chelsea occasionally asked about that baby and Jenny had said one day she would have another little brother or sister. No more than that was stated, but it was enough to stick in Sam's heart.

As things were sticking with Max, who seemed aloof that night, but Liz was friendly. Sam didn't think she or Marcy knew about Rae's miscarriage, but Steve had pulled Sam to the side and said he was sorry for Sam's loss. Then Steve had gazed at his father.

Steve wasn't a boy anymore but Sam hoped he wouldn't age faster than necessary, not like Max. In that one gray eye Sam saw something akin to what he'd known, far more than what a kid of eighteen should have to realize.

Max's arm hung at his side, or was tight in Liz's grasp. They had married with that over their heads; did they think love would heal it? Was youth blind to what age and perspective held, that some things were just screwed? Sam hadn't thought Tracy's father would come after her, didn't think Jenny's father would track her either. Jenny moved, gave a small moan. She had taken some painkillers before bed, but maybe they were wearing off.

Sam went into the bathroom. A bottle of aspirin stood on the shelf and he put two in his hand, then filled a cup with water. When he returned to the bedroom, Jenny was turning as if trying to get comfortable.

"Here honey, take these."

She opened her eyes, looking pained. Sam sucked in his breath.

She was hurting, but swallowing the pills and water, she smiled, then rolled back over. The miscarriage hadn't been as hard on her as he'd thought, but she had paid deep prices, maybe to allow for this sort of loss. And here she was warm, whole, in his bed.

Sam slipped back under the covers, considering that some things happened with no good reason obvious at the time. Tracy and Alvin had been battered, bloodied, then silent, and why? So that years later Sam could love this woman, not even counting all Jenny had endured. Why did life work that way, but she was here, he was too, they were together and, and...

Then their baby died. Sam stumbled on that sentence every time.

A week passed, Christmas just days away. Jenny wanted Christmas Eve at their house, had a present for each in her family. Sam didn't know what her traditions had been as a kid, she didn't say. Maybe this was all new, something for her Oregon relatives.

They received a few cards from some of Sam's former colleagues. Those from Arkendale included Marcy's parents, Tank and Gladys Miller, Ann and Ray Gardner. One California postmark from Robert and Cliff, but the rest were strictly family. Jenny placed them along the mantle, the nativity in the center.

Every time Will was lifted he grabbed for those figures as Chelsea spoke of the Baby Jesus waiting for Christmas Day. Then she sighed; she was waiting for Christmas too and couldn't they open one present early?

"On Christmas Eve you can," Jenny said.

Chelsea had been caught shaking a box and had gotten a spank. She left them alone after that, but Sam knew it was hard waiting, and he felt it more so after Jenny's period ended. She was so perceptive of his needs and Sam felt guilty. His libido had returned, but hers seemed muted, or maybe she was waiting for their wedding night. He wasn't sure, wanted to ask her, but so much swirled.

Over the weekend, she cooked, cleaned, visited with Lexi and Ricky, but they were called away by Rae, who needed them for the same tasks, not only Christmas, but the wedding. There was money to hire someone, but when Sam brought that up, Rae looked mortified. Tommie had laughed that they would need to clean before the cleaning lady came. Sylvia had ordered a cake and a florist had the bouquet arranged. Robert and Cliff were coming for the ceremony and Sam wondered how their presence would be accepted.

That had been a last minute decision, one taken after the miscarriage. They were driving up on Thursday, staying with Jenny and Sam, and would keep an eye on the house Friday night, returning to the Bay Area on Saturday, not wanting to miss New Year's in San Francisco. Sam only wanted to spend that night in bed with his wife.

Jenny was going to be his wife and after they returned from Eugene, the paperwork would be filed for the adoption. By the end of January, Chelsea and Will would legally be Sam's children.

He rolled that in his head on Christmas Eve and by the time guests arrived, he was comfortable that in starting the New Year, he would have two children. So much hit him at different times and in funny places; as he considered that, his eyes found Rae.

She laughed with Sylvia and Debbie, steering clear of Jenny. Usually Jenny stood with those women, but she spoke with Marcy, Lexi, and Liz. Alana toted Chelsea, Scott beside those girls, and the rest gathered as expected. The men chatted, Keith and Jacob with their heads together. Jacob looked grayer to Sam; maybe it was due to the man with whom Jacob stood.

Then Jacob walked away and Sam stared at Keith. Sam knew this was coming, but Keith had no idea the only remnants of Sam's writing were what Keith possessed.

"Merry Christmas Sam," Keith said, extending his hand.

"Merry Christmas," Sam answered as if nothing had changed since giving this man those papers.

As they made small talk, Sam wished anyone would rescue him. No one did.

"So Sam, I've been meaning to say something about those chapters..."

"Oh you know, it was just a wild hair. You can burn them if you want."

Sam wanted to pound a beer, then chase it with three or four shots of whisky, blot out all he had typed and what the last several weeks had wrought. He looked up, wearing a false smile, but didn't see Keith's earnest face. Instead he saw Jenny.

She held Rae with Will between them. Debbie, Sylvia, and Lexi were close and Tommie was on his way. Then Sam heard Keith's words.

"My God, you've got to be kidding me. It's rough, no denying that, but you've got a voice. There's plenty to rework, but your voice rings so clear. That's rare, you know, a gift. I'd love to see the rest of it."

Sam's eyes and ears were completely separate; he couldn't see Keith's admiration, or hear what Rae and Jenny said to one another, although it looked like an apology.

Then Keith's words circled; a voice, so clear, a rare gift. Needs to be reworked, he wants to see the rest of it.

Sam glanced Keith's way. "I burned the rest. All that's left is what you have."

Keith gasped, but Sam didn't linger, walking toward Rae Smith and Jenny Cope. For four more days she would be Jenny Cope, but no longer did she dwell just within Sam's imagination.

Chapter 17

The room was hushed as Sam and Jenny stood beside each other, Tommie having just given her a kiss, placing his sister next to her betrothed. A few days back the space had been noisy, Christmas with all in attendance. Dinner had been turkey and the typical accompaniments. That day a different meal would be served, but first came a wedding.

Rae stood next to Jenny, Jacob to Sam's right. Tommie had taken his place near his children on the bride's side of the family.

On Sam's side waited Debbie and Scott, Max and Liz. Fewer for the Cassels, so Max had filled in numbers, as behind Jenny stood the Baxters, Chelsea and Will, Robert and Cliff. Their appearance had been coolly received until Tommie completed the peace begun by Alvin. Tommie approached Robert, Chelsea in that man's arms. Cliff toted Will, the children content with relatives they knew almost as well as everyone else. Once Tommie shook Robert's hand, then Cliff's, fences were mended, but more; they were accepted into this family like all the rest, by hook and by crook and roads less traveled. Now they stood beside Keith and Sylvia as one couple on their own long path was joined.

A justice of the peace said words heard in churches as well as living rooms. They were gathered to celebrate the union of one man and one woman seeking the bonds of matrimony. Jenny stood in a long cream dress that fit all along her waist, then flared out, just hiding the small belly from her offspring. The sleeves were long, but not loose, yet they looked comfortable, offering protection from the chilly rain that had fallen all day.

The neckline came just below her collarbone, accentuating her slender shoulders, with no fancy ruffles detracting from Jenny's freckles. She held a posy of red roses, which matched Sam's boutonniere. His shirt was medium blue, his pants were navy. To Rae's chagrin, Sam had sported a navy tie that was discarded once Will drooled on it.

The twosome's hands were clasped together, their wedding bands in Jacob's pocket. Sam began his vows as people watched a couple that never let go of the other.

"Jenny Cope, will you be my lawfully wedded wife from this day forward, in sickness and in health, in good times and bad, until death do us part?"

"I will. Sam Cassel, will you be my lawfully wedded husband from this day forward, in sickness and in health, in good times and bad, until death do us part?"

"I will."

Rings were exchanged after Jacob almost dropped them on the Smith carpet. While the symbolism was explained, the couple placed them on the other's fingers, still holding hands.

"By the power vested in me by the state of Oregon, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Sam, you may kiss your bride."

Before Sam took his hands from Jenny's, he gave her one more squeeze. Reaching for her face, he set his lips to hers, feeling some long awaited breath finally taken. He started to laugh as he kissed her, for one didn't consciously breathe while kissing. As Jenny responded, it was no longer a static life Sam led. For the rest of his days, he would exist as the husband of Jenny Cope Cassel.

The wedding itself had been simple, but the party afterwards consisted of many. Jenny and Sam had become one couple, then turned to the contingent in the living room, asking all to embrace each other. The only man to answer that call in totality was Tommie, giving Robert and Cliff each a hug, but the women all took part and while tears were shed, they were as quickly wiped away. This was a day of celebration, no matter what had come before.

Jenny and Sam sat next to each other with their children on their laps, eating meat loaf and mashed potatoes Rae had fixed yesterday. Debbie and Sylvia had prepared salads, the wine from Cliff and Robert, then a cake of which the top layer was set aside to be frozen and enjoyed in a year's time. The rest was devoured, except two small slices which Jenny said she and Sam would take with them on the drive to Eugene.

Words had been shared by friends and siblings, relations by marriage and the simple bonds of love. A houseful was linked that day by Jenny, Sam, and Alvin, people now a strange but potent clan. In celebrating a marriage, all were reminded of life's various paths leading to that December afternoon. From as far as Idaho, California, and Colorado, or as near as houses in town, this was a group with stronger ties than biological associations. A motley crew, Tommie laughed, offering a toast, but sometimes it was best to have a well-rounded flavor.

"Hear hear!" Cliff agreed.

"Hear hear," Chelsea added.

Laughter followed as Chelsea ran around repeating _hear hear_ the rest of the day.

The children were staying with Tommie and Rae over the weekend. As Jenny and Sam readied to leave, they kissed their kids, then admonished them to behave. Will laughed as Chelsea nodded, then she was brought to a giggle by her Uncle Tommie's chuckle. "Oh, we'll be watching the cows, making sure they don't run away, right Chelse?"

"Hear hear!"

Jenny sighed. "What did Cliff start with her?"

"Nothing serious, I assure you," Tommie smiled. "All right you two go on. The weekend'll be over before you know it."

Jenny kissed Will, then felt Chelsea's arms around her neck. "Have fun Mama."

"Hear hear," Tommie smiled.

"Stop that," Jenny said.

As Sam led her out, she heard Tommie's laughter, and others', Robert and Cliff visiting with Keith and Sylvia. They would get to Jenny's later on, but the newlyweds would be the first to leave.

To avoid the puddles, Jenny raised her dress, Sam insisting she wear it to the house. Their suitcases were packed and waiting. Jenny would turn on the old heater once inside, but over the weekend it was being replaced, Tommie and Steve overseeing the work. Jenny would return to a brand new unit, one upstairs too; best to get it done while no one was around, Sam had decided.

He opened her door, helped her out, then suddenly she was swept in his arms. "Sam, what are you doing?"

"Walking you over the threshold, whatdya think?"

"Oh good grief!"

She giggled the entire trip to the front door, then watched as he struggled to open it. Finally Sam crossed through the doorframe, then set her down with ease. "All right. Now it's official. You're Mrs. Sam Cassel."

She kissed him, then laughed. "So what was all that earlier today?"

"Oh, just something to make Rae and Sylvia happy."

A pleased tenor rang in his voice, a sound emerging since Christmas Day, but then hidden until Jenny woke with him in her arms that morning. They had almost made love, but would wait until they were in the hotel, a lovely charm for how inauspicious Jenny's sexual life had begun. She wanted to feel him as if she was a virgin, only for this man.

As the heater creaked and groaned, they went upstairs, changing into more relaxed gear. Jenny hung up her dress, then stepped into the nursery, toward the closet. In that small space her children's things rested, where her possessions had resided a few years back. She bent down as if looking for the silver flats Alvin had bought her, ones she had left behind when attempting to flee this farm. She would have gone to Portland; would she have found Sam there?

Scattered dust bunnies lay on the floor, Chelsea as neat in her bedroom as how she kept her toys downstairs. Jenny heard footsteps, then turned, seeing Sam in the doorway.

"Jenny, what?"

She stood, then moved to him. He was hard and she wanted to love him, even with condoms. Probably best, as it was initially how they came together. To know each other fully had been almost more than either could bear, yet, she had held his child. But as those flats no longer graced in the nursery closet, some things stayed. Some didn't.

"I love you. Sam, do you wanna wait?"

They swayed together and Jenny closed her eyes. Eugene was an hour away.

"Oh honey! What if Robert and Cliff..."

Jenny smiled. "Sylvia said she wouldn't let them leave too early."

"That woman, bless her heart."

"I agree." Jenny insinuated her hand along Sam's leg. "And I know something else too."

"What?" he croaked.

"Only this." She set her fingers along the front of his jeans, moving down his thighs. Sam backed out of the nursery, stopping when he hit the wall near their door. Jenny followed, finding his mouth. Then she giggled. "I'm your wife now Sam and I have certain needs. You think you're up to it?"

"Oh yes, Mrs. Cassel." He grasped her hands. "Quite certain."

Nearly two months had passed since they had made love and while Sam had known release in that time, Jenny had refrained. That afternoon, she returned to Sam with all her previous desires intact, and some unexpected.

In their bed, Jenny had cried, rendered immobile. Sam had made love to her first, tenderly building to a great passion that Jenny acknowledged with a scream. Then she lay quietly as Sam became one with her, not to conceive a child, but to consummate their union, fully accepted by them both there in that bed.

Even with a condom, Jenny thought it was some of the best sex she'd ever had. Probably due to how long it had been and the event for which it marked, for now Sam was her legally wedded husband. She was his wife; she had never been anyone's wife, not even Alvin's. But she was Sam's and how he had shown the significance of that event had been the biggest gift of all.

"You know," she giggled, "we don't have to go to Eugene."

"What?"

Jenny rolled on her side, lying naked beside her husband. Her husband; just the thought of those words made her smile. She played with the rose chain along her neck, a piece of jewelry that Sam insisted she not remove. She wore two rings and this necklace, all three a part of her.

"Honey, I don't wanna leave this bed, our bed. If I call Tommie, talk to Robert, I bet we can work out something."

"Don't you wanna get away?"

Sam looked eased, and older. Had Tracy viewed what Jenny did, a man having committed himself in front of witnesses, God even? A justice of the peace was enough for Jenny, but the sense of their vows offered inspection to any and all; did that include those dead? Had Alvin and Tracy been there, along with Maisie Cassel, watching the proceedings? Had Jenny and Sam's baby overseen the whole thing?

"Sam, this's my home. I ran for so many years, but honey, with you and our kids, I don't need to be anywhere else. I don't wanna be in any other place this weekend or for the rest of my life but right here with you."

"Baby, you sure?"

Jenny sat up, feeling a bit chilled. The kids could remain with Tommie and Rae, but even if the house was overrun by workmen, the fireplace remained and Jenny could bake up a storm. She wanted to ring in the new year at the farm, the only place she had felt loved, protected, wanted. First it had been with Alvin. For the rest of her life it would be alongside Sam.

For the rest of her life, and Jenny's tears fell, but not from sorrow. They were in relief and immense bliss. She had seen many parts of this country. If she never left Arkendale, Oregon again, that would be fine, as long as this man was with her.

"Sam, I'll call Tommie. Why don't you build us a fire?"

Within the hour Robert and Cliff collected their bags, would spend that night with the Baxters. As far as Chelsea and Will were aware, Mommy and Daddy were away. Jenny and Sam would have their honeymoon right in their own house.

The newlyweds had seen their short-lived houseguests for only a moment as Robert and Cliff whizzed in, then directly out. The house was left to the new couple, who then realized all there was to eat were the two slices of cake they had planned to snack on during the drive.

Jenny laughed, then heard a knock. Tommie appeared with a basket full of meatloaf and salads, mashed potatoes and an unopened bottle of wine. He smiled, gave Jenny a kiss, then said he'd be there in the morning to wait for the contractors.

Before Tommie left, Jenny hugged him. He hadn't required a long explanation; Jenny's moist eyes conveyed her heart. She didn't need to leave, this was home.

Jenny inhaled that as Sam added more wood to the fire. Her home had been this farm since the moment she stopped to read Tommie's sign. When Alvin took her inside for lemon pound cake in February 1975, Jenny Cope had been home.
The couple wore sweats, causal and warm. Loading two plates with meatloaf and potatoes, Jenny heated Sam's first, then her own, collecting silverware and napkins. It wasn't the fancy restaurant that Sam had wanted to take her, but all Jenny wanted.

They ate, saying little, each sipping a glass of wine. Then they sat in front of the fire, sharing memories of the day. Jenny noted how Tommie had included Robert and Cliff, Sam recalling Jacob's shakiness when taking the rings from his pocket. Both commented on how happy their offspring seemed, and that while neither child would recall this day, they would always know two parents who loved each other, being part of a family that while not at all conventional, was whole. Pieces from all over had made a solid, nurturing unit in which Chelsea and Will would thrive. Then Sam cleared his throat. "Jenny?"

"Yeah?"

"I, uh, wanna tell you something."

She rested in his arms, feeling heat from the flames. The last weeks had been some of the worst in her life, right alongside Alvin's death and when she was a teenager. All those terrifying moments were far in the past as she snuggled against her husband.

"What my beloved spouse? What do you have to tell me?"

His words were prefaced by a kiss near her eyes, then whispered into her ear. "I wanna make another baby with you."

She didn't flinch, could barely breathe. Not expecting that for months to come, she nodded, afraid if she moved, the spell would be broken.

Sam cleared his throat. "Maybe in March. If we tried again in March, what do you think?"

Tears ran down her face. They hadn't asked for wedding presents, nor had they chosen anything for each other, but into her heart Sam had laid the most precious gift Jenny could consider.

Even if it didn't work, even if something went wrong, Sam had found within himself enough optimism and desire. She nodded, then grasped his hands, placing them where their baby had lain.

Chapter 18

1980 began on a Tuesday. Jenny and Sam, Chelsea and Will were all in one house with a new heating system and snow falling outside their windows.

A cool stretch of weather began, indicative of how later in the year particles would still be drifting from the sky. In January it was only snow, which rested under the beech that Jenny pondered without the same heavy notion in her heart as this time last year.

In the middle of the month, all met at the cemetery, but this time flakes covered the plots. Will and Chelsea were bundled in snowsuits, walking where their papa was buried. Coming here on what would have been Alvin's forty-third birthday was how Jenny wanted to commemorate his life. With Tommie on one side, Sam on the other, Jenny wept tears she couldn't contain.

She tried to explain to her children, Will's small mittened hands tracing the wetness. She had loved their papa so much, but while he was gone, they remained. Neither child understood; Chelsea cried too until her grandmother spoke of a happy boy, always with a smile, forever loving and concerned. Jenny wept more with those words, felt within her heart a truth that needed to be shared.

She and Sam had talked of many things since their honeymoon, but the truth about Alvin hadn't been broached. A baby had been paramount, Sam's great fears that perhaps he wasn't meant to father a child coupled with what if something happened to Jenny. They had also spoken with Steve and Max, and while Liz and Marcy weren't involved, Liz hovered as a ghost. Max had a hard time reconciling their abortion with what Jenny and Sam had lost, as well as his parents. Lexi had been told, that girl quite shaken; she had always considered herself the eldest, but instead, she was a second child.

There was also Sam's unwillingness to plant more trees. Jenny didn't understand that at all, but he still seemed wary. Tommie was going to add to his herd and Steve mentioned he and Max would be kept busy, more Steve than his brother. Max wasn't that interested in farming, but as of yet, he hadn't shown any proclivity to what he might like to do.

The brothers had their hands full setting up houses and Jenny and Sam discussed that too. Over Christmas, Lexi and Ricky expressed an interest in living together; Ricky would move to Eugene as Lexi wanted to settle in a town much larger than Arkendale. If that was the case, once they were married, Jenny and Sam would offer a home to that couple, the same as they had done for Lexi's brothers. Alana couldn't stop talking of when _she_ would be off to school in Eugene, but Scott was quiet when she spoke of such things.

As a new decade began, Jenny sensed change for her and Sam, in addition to their newly married status. She wasn't sure what, but something waited on the horizon.

On the second of February, Jenny Cassel turned thirty-four. She received gifts and cards, flowers from Robert and Cliff, and from her husband. Also a small box from Sam. Inside sat another charm, that of a sun, and Chelsea loved it. "Mama, just like a flower," she squealed.

Jenny had tears, but felt strange about unhooking the clasp. It had remained for three years, not even her exuberant son ripping it from her neck. Jenny hadn't expected it to last, yet that necklace had endured.

"Honey, if you want, I can get a different chain," Sam said gently.

"Maybe," she muttered. Jenny looked at him, her thoughts varied.

"I just saw it, thought it'd be pretty, what with all the damned rain we get."

Sam had waited until their guests left to give her this and Jenny was glad. The children were drowsy and as Sam dressed them for bed, Jenny admired the roses from him alongside a mixed bouquet from Robert. Even two years after Alvin's death, she still found this time of year difficult.

Was it the snow that lay all over, cold weather recalling times she would rather forget? Jenny was no longer plagued by thunderstorms, but the chill was hard to budge. During the winters she had felt especially trapped in her childhood home, falling snow acting as silent shackles, allowing her father to haunt from outside, as well as attack her from within. Summer storms at least carried warning, lightning preceding that awful crackle and roar. Something about the snow made Jenny feel ensnared.

When Sam returned, both children walking down the stairs, Will's small hand in his father's, Jenny's tears returned. Two years before, Alvin would have held their toddling daughter, Will only under his mother's flesh. In 1978, Jenny was almost pregnant with Alvin's son, but 1980 offered a little girl chatty and bright, a small boy active and loud. Jenny approached them, the charm in her hand.

"Sam, unhook my necklace and add this to it."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded. "Time to add another link to the chain."

Turning from him, she lifted her hair from her neck. Before Sam found the clasp, his lips touched her skin. Jenny gasped, his fingers light and sensual along her flesh. Then she heard a small _click_.

Sam held the ends of the chain. Jenny turned toward him as the children watched.

That necklace had been in place since Jenny fastened it in 1977, Chelsea younger than Will. Sam slipped the new charm through one end. Together the sun and rose hung from the silver necklace and Jenny put out her hand.

Those pieces were set in her palm and she closed fingers around them. It was only a necklace, nothing magical, yet when she removed her digits, the sun shone, the rose looked alive. The chill had retreated and Jenny nodded. Then Sam put it back where it belonged.

Two weeks later Jenny, Sam, and the kids were at the store. Because she didn't drive, Jenny never went into Arkendale alone, and as a mother of two, it was easier for Sam to get their groceries. That day was a family outing and Jenny bumped into everyone she knew.

Gladys Miller said _hello_ and Ann Gardner offered a wave. Mary Ann Wheeler and Gloria Lewis were chatty as Jenny pushed the cart with Will in the seat, Sam and Chelsea down another aisle. Jenny stopped at the canned soups, but felt eyes on her. Looking up, she spotted Bonnie Carmine.

She had first met Bonnie in that same spot, canned fruit across the way. That day others had surrounded the women. Now it was only the two of them.

And Will, who called for his mother, then his father. Bonnie's cool gray-blue eyes were all over the little boy.

"Hello Bonnie." They might be alone, but there was time to be polite. Yet, Jenny didn't feel kind inside. This woman had wanted her to abort Will, at whom Bonnie couldn't stop staring. Will Harris Cassel was Alvin's spitting image, the same wide blue eyes, loving smile, and blonde hair that Jenny had recently trimmed.

Jenny noticed how Bonnie hadn't heard her, so absorbed in the small, laughing boy. Will was hell on wheels, Tommie liked to say, a climber just like his papa. In looks and agility Will was exactly like Alvin, but he loved to sit with blocks and books, would pay attention to Sam's easy cadence, absorbed in all his father said. Will had a voice, but preferred to listen, especially since trying to outtalk his sister was nearly impossible. Will was a mixture of both men, yet from one glimpse, he was all Alvin.

"Bonnie, you all right?" Jenny asked.

"What? Oh, yes, I'm fine, just fine. My, but he's grown."

Bitter words reached Jenny's tongue, but she swallowed them. "Yeah, he's a big boy."

"He looks just like, like..."

"Mama," Chelsea called. "We got ice cream Mama!"

Another Alvin lookalike ran past Bonnie, hugging Jenny's knees. Then Sam joined them, setting chocolate ice cream in the cart. "Hello Bonnie."

He stood behind Jenny as she picked up their daughter. That foursome stared at the gray-haired woman who still stood dumbstruck.

"Bonnie was just noticing how big Will's gotten. And how much he looks like your papa." Jenny directed those words to her daughter, but looked right at Bonnie.

"Papa's dead." Chelsea showed no trace of sorrow.

"Yes," Bonnie muttered. "Alvin's dead."

"Chelsea and Will just laid flowers at his grave last month. Remember Chelse, where you danced in the snow?"

Jenny's color rose, but as Sam touched her shoulder, she cooled. What Bonnie had done to Alvin was all in the past. She had no claim on Jenny or these children.

"Well Jenny, Sam, you have a lovely family. Congratulations to you. Both of you."

"Thank you Bonnie," Sam said.

Jenny watched as the woman attempted to hurl some insult. Others moved along the aisle, and time was fleeting. Jenny hadn't spilled a thing except to Sam. Might Bonnie feel obliged to offer more than just a congratulatory word?

Not on that day. Bonnie turned her cart around, leaving the aisle without taking a single item.

The third of March was a Monday and while Jenny and Sam had used condoms since their honeymoon, now they faced a decision. That it seemed to fall on this day was fate; that morning the couple felt like making love. Jenny's period had come and gone and for the last few days birth control hadn't been necessary. That day, number ten in her cycle, was the brink; either they were going to use a rubber or not, which meant one thing. Jenny was ready, time creeping up what with turning thirty-four and Will saying more than _Mama_ , _Dada_ and _Chelsea_. His vocabulary included _down, all done, more, out, cow,_ _chick,_ and _no_. He was easier to understand than Chelsea had been, and _no_ had become his word of the week. _No_ to this and _no_ to that and if Sam wanted to say _no_ to condoms, Jenny was prepared.

It was only five thirty, the kids still with an hour of sleep. Jenny had stirred on that second year from Alvin's death and one year from Max losing his eye and use of his arm considering both incidents. This time last year Will had a cold and she'd been nursing him. Sometimes she missed that, but maybe it was time to rectify the situation.

Sam was alert and erect, enough Trojans left over from last month for that morning. There were enough for the whole day, as children cut into quiet moments. Jenny was used to it, a quickie now, more time later on, if they were still awake after putting the kids to bed.

"Sam, what do you wanna do?" she asked, his warm hands all over her body.

"Make love to you."

She laughed. "I'm sensing that." Then she paused. "Honey, this's day ten."

"Oh yeah?"

"Uh-huh."

His hands rested where they were. "Sam, why don't you get a condom?"

She could say that word and not get angry, sad, or feel violated. It was only a small latex sheath allowing them to be intimate, not allowing for other things. Whatever Sam wanted to do, Jenny was fine. She really was.

It had been four months since the miscarriage and while Sam wasn't writing or preparing to expand the orchard, he was better. He was still tender, but wasn't as wrecked. A lasting ache faded every day, but Jenny was fine.

"Baby, I uh, I can if you want me to."

She inhaled. "Honey, I love you. It's your call."

Jenny didn't know if it was the ease of her words or had there been some conscious thought put into Sam's decision to eschew the rubber. Either way as they made love, Jenny felt him release another piece of grief. When they were done, the few tears she wiped from his face were all they noted.

Later that day Max and Liz came by. While Jenny made everyone hot chocolate, the couple engaged the kids as they had before, drawing laughter and squeals from Chelsea and Will.

"So, what brings you here?" Sam asked.

"Oh, just making the rounds. Liz had it off and we thought we'd drop in, see what you guys were doing."

Everyone knew this date, for both of its events. Yet, Max didn't look morose.

"Not doing much of anything." Jenny brought mugs to the table. Marshmallows sat in each cup, the children's drinks tepid. Cookies were set out, Jenny appreciating the pleasant mood. She didn't want anything heavy or sad on this day, for on this day she had learned she was expecting a baby. She looked at her son, who used a sippee cup, spilling drops on the tray. A cookie was clenched in his fingers; Will had a sweet tooth.

She caressed his face, then looked at Sam. They had been close all day and she wanted to make love to him again that night, their days of condoms having ended.

"Well, we've been seeing everyone today. A lot's changed since last year," Max said.

Jenny nodded and Sam did too. A year ago they hadn't even slept together, now they were married. Jenny reached for Sam's hand, then gave it a squeeze.

"That's true," Sam smiled. "We're glad you're looking so well."

Max nodded. "Yeah, feeling pretty lucky. I've got one good eye and a helluva beautiful wife."

Liz giggled.

"And," he continued, "an arm that's starting to move around on its own."

"What?" Jenny and Sam said together.

"What?" Chelsea mimicked.

Max stood, then laughed. "Dad noticed it a while back. I can't feel anything, I mean, can't feel that, but Liz's seen it, Mom too. I've got an appointment with a doctor in Eugene next week. Maybe there's something they can do."

His smile was infectious and Jenny was the first to embrace him. Sam was next, then Chelsea whined; she wanted to hug Max too.

"Oh honey, that's great. Maybe they'll figure out exercises you can do," Jenny gushed.

"Yeah, I mean, who knows? It's gotta mean something, that's what Lizzie and I figure."

The young couple spoke of their hopes, which at this point were just that. Maybe Max's arm might be numb for the rest of his life, but if there were movements, ones Max couldn't even feel, maybe after time he might have control over them. After months of uncertainty, Max felt somewhat in charge.

"Which is sorta ridiculous. I still can't move this arm." His face beamed. "But it's something to work toward. The only problem is..."

"What?" Jenny asked.

"The doctors are all in Eugene or Portland. I know you just paid for the house, but if I have to go to therapy, it doesn't really make any sense to commute."

"Have you told your folks yet?" Jenny directed that to both teens, who responded with nods.

"Mom's not thrilled," Liz sighed. "But they know Max needs this chance."

As Sam asked questions, Jenny saw a new start. Max's wrecked arm and their unwanted baby had weighed them down in a place Jenny loved. For Jenny it was home, but for others, Arkendale carried ghosts.

Chapter 19

Tommie stopped by that evening, wanting to see his sister and a man like a brother. As he sat at the kitchen table, milk and cookies close by, Tommie privately acknowledged another brother, the one who used to live in this house.

All day Tommie had thought about Alvin, especially when Max and Liz shared their news. That his son was living, with cognitive thought processes in his one-eyed head, made Tommie give thanks. That Max's arm just might respond to therapy would be an answer to other prayers.

Tommie still missed Alvin. Some mornings, at nine o'clock, Tommie wanted to call that number, but Sam or Jenny would have answered. He stared at them, seeing such happiness. "So there's gonna be this empty house and I'll tell you, Max feels pretty damned awful about that."

"It's nothing to worry about. We'll just keep it. Maybe they'll come back."

Jenny's voice held out hope, but Tommie knew his youngest boy wanted out of town. He wasn't sure why, didn't think it was all about Max's arm and the miscarriage. Not Jenny's but Max's own mother. There was that, yet Tommie wasn't sure about the rest.

"Well, for the time being, we'll hold onto it. I know they'll be coming back on his off days, but I did wanna apologize..."

Jenny held Tommie's bad hand. "Nothing to be sorry about."

As her fingers gripped his, he noticed her wedding ring. It was pretty on her hand and he was so glad they had married. The right thing, what Alvin would have wanted.

What he had desired, no _would have_ ; Tommie considered that, then felt his gums flapping. "You know, that's what he wanted, he wanted you to be together."

"Max?" Jenny asked.

Tommie swallowed. "No honey, not Max."

The room was still and Jenny's face went ashen. Tommie's left hand reached for hers and he leaned down and kissed it. "Jenny, in the ambulance, before he died, Alvin said he knew Sam loved you, said you belonged together. Jenny, Sam, oh God, I've been carrying this for two years. He wanted you to, oh Jesus Christ!"

Jenny began crying and Sam gripped her. "Tommie, are you sure?"

"As sure as sitting here. When he told you to take care of her, after he fell? It was like that. He knew he wasn't gonna make it and just wanted Jenny to be in the best arms. After his," Tommie added.

"Oh my god, oh good god!" Jenny cried.

"Shit honey, I'm sorry. Today probably wasn't the best time to tell you. But Jenny, he did love you, was always thinking about you, looking out for you and Chelsea. Why he climbed that damned tree..."

"Tommie, he knew. The night before, he knew I was pregnant. I was about to tell him and he said _not yet_. He knew why I was seeing the doctor, but god, I never thought he'd want to kill himself."

Jenny sobbed, but Tommie stood, pulling her to him. "Honey, now you wait right there! The last thing I could imagine was Alvin thinking something like that. It was only an accident, of that I'm certain. He never meant to hurt you. My God honey, he loved you!"

Tommie saw that Sam understood. He had been there, nothing premeditated about it.

"But why then? Why'd he climb that damn tree?"

"We'll never know, we just won't, but he knew who else loved you, who'd be here for you." Tommie stared at Sam.

Jenny wept hard, both men at a loss for how to calm her. Then she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. She gazed at Sam, then back to Tommie. "Well, if you're gonna spill a few things, there's something you should know too."

"What?" Tommie saw Sam trying to catch his wife's attention as if trying to stop this cycle of information. "Sam, Jenny, what?"

"Honey, wait. Not tonight."

Sam's voice was leery and Jenny looked down. "Tommie, when Bonnie came to see me, the day after he died..."

"Jenny, don't."

All gazed to each other, a small friction between the couple.

"Sam, you thought I should've told him last year, you thought it might..."

"Jenny, not now."

"Sam, what'n the hell is it?"

Again a hush fell and Tommie grew shaky. From the looks on their faces, it was as if Jenny spoke, nothing would be the same. "Jenny, Sam, if you've got something to tell me..."

Jenny took a deep breath; as she began to speak, Tommie's mouth dropped, his heart felt sunken. Her words were rushed, how Bonnie had spoken to Jenny, all of Alvin's life blurted in the Smith dining room behind closed doors in the time it took to clean a baby's messy bottom.

When Jenny stopped speaking, Tommie was gutted. Bonnie Carmine's awful, mean-spirited words had emerged one day after Alvin had dug a hole in Tommie's heart. His heart vanished that day, yet Will had stayed. His father was dead, but Will had remained.

"Good fucking God!" Tommie stood, then turned away from them, gripping his sides.

Jenny joined him. "Only Betsy, Alfred, Bonnie, Harold and the doctor knew. The accident, oh god, like some blessing for them I guess, how to explain why everything was getting so hard for him. Tommie, he'd always been slow, always."

"Are you sure? I mean, all you have to go on is what that bitch..."

"Tommie, Lorraine knew," Sam said.

"How?" Tommie demanded.

"Remember when she came to see me, right after Halloween? She started to tell me she had information, but I beat her to the punch. I don't know if she was trying to get money out of me, but she'd overheard her parents, that Alvin had been born that way. She knew, why she treated him so badly, I guess. My god, that family..."

Jenny stopped. She had told Tommie most of what Bonnie revealed, but not all. Then Jenny set arms over herself. Sam was at her side and she collapsed against him, crying.

Everything spun in Tommie's head; his best friend, his brother hadn't been damaged in some childhood accident. Alvin had been handicapped since birth! That was why Bonnie wanted Jenny to have an abortion, why Bonnie always treated Alvin like he was some goddamned retard. Bonnie had tried to use that to make Jenny get rid of Will. If that woman happened to saunter into Jenny's house, Tommie would throttle her dead.

Pieces fell into place; why Jenny had been eager to see her son walk and talk, confirming Will wasn't so much like his father. There had been a reason for Jenny's vigilance, also why she had wanted everyone to know she was pregnant from the get-go. She wouldn't let Bonnie insinuate anything was wrong with Alvin's children.

Tommie wanted a drink, just a whisky. Then a beer. Maybe another, and he laughed. Goddamned Bonnie Carmine had wanted to strip Alvin naked, leave him with barely a pittance because she thought he wasn't worth anything. He was just a stupid moron, and not from a fall but from the very beginning. The desire for a drink was overpowering. As soon as Tommie got home...

"Tommie, listen to me. Whatever you do, you can't get drunk."

Had Jenny read his mind? Tommie looked at her, tears still falling along her face. "You hear me Tommie Smith? Oh god, I had this dream, Alvin made me promise that you wouldn't take another drink, that you couldn't! Tommie, please, I know this's awful, but whatever you do, for me, for the kids, for your own son, please, don't let her win. She's had the upper hand all her life. If for nothing else, don't take a drink, please!"

Tommie trembled and he found a chair. He put his head down, then took long breaths.

"He never knew, did he?" he mumbled.

Jenny was on her knees in front of him. "No honey, he never did. The three of us are the only ones who do. That and..."

Tommie heard her being interrupted. And what, how much more was there? Bonnie Carmine needed to rot in hell for how she had treated that man, a good man, one of the best. He may have been thoughtless to climb that tree, but Alvin Harris had the best heart. It hadn't been the strongest, quitting on him in the ambulance. But it had loved Jenny to the end.

"Honey, not tonight," Sam murmured.

Tommie looked up; there was still something Jenny knew. Tommie had no more secrets, except from Alana. When she was a little older, he would tell her about one little baby that had come first. When Lana was married, then he'd tell her.

"What honey?" Tommie asked.

Glances were exchanged between husband and wife, so much weighing on Jenny. It had hardened her, Jenny's eyes seething with disgust. Not hatred, but contempt, great anger. What in the world could it be?

Her voice was soft, right in his ear. Once she was done, Tommie nodded, then erupted into tears.

She had made Tommie promise he wouldn't drink. Then he remembered his dream and they compared notes; Tommie recalled that things were coming which would be unpleasant. And as Alvin had admonished Jenny, Tommie wasn't to pick up a beer can again.

Things had been bad, Jenny and Sam's miscarriage, those hostages in Iran, and now this. Tommie's brain was too full; one beer would start to empty it out. His brain and his heart, which hurt more than Tommie thought was right. As much as Max in the hospital, as bad as Jenny and Sam's loss. Then Tommie gazed at Jenny, her exhaustion plain. Sitting in Sam's arms, she looked ready for bed.

"All right, I'm gonna go. And I promise, I'm not gonna take a drink. Nothing down there now except that wine from your wedding, too fancy for me."

Tommie stood, feeling weak, and he was glad for Sam's supportive arm. Jenny was on his other side and he stroked her face with that stump of a thumb. "Honey, I'm glad you told me."

"Oh Tommie, I should've told you last year, I just..."

"No, you had other fish to fry. I'm gonna go home and you two, well, there we are."

Jenny giggled as they reached the front door. "We'll all sleep well tonight."

"Hear hear," Tommie smiled, then stared at them. Their faces held something but not on the scale of what he had just learned. This was an issue innocent and lighthearted. Tommie laughed. "Oh Christ, you two aren't, I mean, you're not..."

"Not yet," Jenny said. "But we started trying today."

Tommie's laugh released all the craziness he'd just heard. "Well, goddamn! Oh honey, Sam, good lord. Maybe this's it."

"Maybe," Jenny said. "We'll let you know."

"You do that. All right, well, shit. That's about all this old farmer can take for one day."

They walked to the porch, Sam beside Jenny, the air cool. Spring was coming, daffodils poking through the ground. As Tommie reached the last step, Jenny let out a gasp.

"What?" both men asked.

"I remember what he told me right after he was dead. He repeated it in the second dream and now I remember, I remember!"

Tommie returned to the porch where Jenny trembled in Sam's arms. "Honey, what?"

She looked at them, then set their hands on her middle. "Eventually, he said. Eventually I'd have Sam's baby!"

As Jenny burst into tears, the men took her inside, and Tommie stayed until she was quiet.

"I thought about this all day," Jenny whimpered, looking at Sam. "That even if something went wrong, I didn't care. I've had two kids and I'd just keep trying. If you could take it, I know I could. But he hadn't even been dead one whole day and he told me Will would be fine, that I could understand. Then what he whispered, right in my ear, and I couldn't remember, you remember I told you that?"

Tommie nodded.

"I couldn't understand him, but then last year, after Chelsea's party, he told me that you couldn't drink." She pointed to her brother.

"Honey, I promise I won't."

She nodded. "And Sam, eventually, that was the word he used. Eventually we'd have a baby. Oh honey, I don't care if something goes wrong. He told me and he never lied to me, not ever!"

Rocked against Sam, holding Tommie's bad hand, Jenny repeated those words. "He never lied. Eventually Sam it'll be okay."

Chapter 20

Telling Tommie about Alvin freed Jenny to some degree. She had spilled all she knew about Alvin and Bonnie, but not what she knew about Max.

Max and Liz spent much of March in Eugene; Max's right arm was poked and prodded, X-rayed and examined. Doctors weren't sure if nerve damage was solely related to his brain injuries, which other than the loss of sight in his right eye, seemed minimal. There was no obvious trauma they could pinpoint the numbness and loss of motion onto directly and at the end of the month, Max and Liz returned to Arkendale.

In early April, Jenny and Sam were still attempting to conceive. She hadn't expected them to get pregnant immediately, and she wrote to Robert, informing him of more than just local gossip. Only he and Tommie were aware. Jenny couldn't share the news with anyone else.

Sylvia had hinted, but didn't press. Jenny and Sam made love with few words about what they were hoping to accomplish, a whispered hush floating about their daily activities. For Jenny it was the usual routine; running a household, caring for two small children and her husband. She was still stymied by that notion; Sam was her husband.

He was busy with the farm, and now with Grant's return, there was someone for him to direct. They tilled the garden plot, Sam increasing that space as Jenny wanted more vegetables. They had eaten most of what she'd frozen last autumn and with the strawberry jam nearly finished, Sam placed new runners along with corn and pickling cucumbers. Rae had offered to help with the canning and Jenny would give it a try.

She was willing to try that, in addition to making a baby, but only spoke about the pickles. Tommie wanted sweet, Rae wanted sour. Jenny wanted a son, more now than last fall, another little boy to tromp after Sam. Will wore boots, like Chelsea, and they trekked behind their father and Grant. With Max and Liz's return, another was added to the mix.

Max's gutted countenance told of his dashed hopes, yet Jenny had seen that limb move on its own. Max didn't sense anything unless his arm jerked with enough force to hit his leg. Then his face would momentarily light. It was fleeting, and still not of his control, wearing down Max's initial enthusiasm. The doctors in Eugene had said to give it time, just a year since the accident. Only hinted was the idea Max might one day have voluntary control over that limb.

He kept it active, telling Jenny that Liz exercised it nightly. It was smaller than his left arm, for now that limb did everything, but the right wasn't withered, only waiting, Max was certain, for his brain to get into gear.

Jenny felt the same with her body. As Rae had turned around and birthed four babies, Jenny was sure, as Alvin had said, eventually she would have Sam's offspring. She shared that with Max on an afternoon when Sam and Grant had taken the kids to the trees. Jenny hadn't mentioned the abandoned orchard, would let Sam reclaim that idea on his own. She thought he would change his mind about the trees, but wasn't so convinced about the writing, of which she didn't speak with Max. Only about parts of them that were, as Jenny put it, troublesome.

Max had seemed shy at first, but when Jenny finished, he spoke up. "Jenny, Liz and I told Lexi about the abortion."

"What'd she say?"

Max sighed. "Well, it came up talking about Mom, and you and Sam. Jenny, Lexi and Ricky, they uh..."

Small relief sat in his eyes. "Steve knows, I guess she told him right after it happened, in '78. God Jenny, I can't tell you, I mean, me and Liz, well, especially Lizzie. She and Lexi just started bawling, something they both really understood. And then it was like, you know, sometimes things just happen. Lex said that Ricky asked her to marry him, and she wants to, but didn't then, and not just because she was pregnant. She wants to finish school, get her masters. Said that someday she wants kids, and then we talked about Mom and Dad, and how they could never know. I mean, Liz was so glad she could tell Debbie. But my folks? No way!"

"Max, is this okay with Lexi, for you to be telling me?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I mean, she knew we were feeling guilty after you and Sam and I think she mostly just wanted us to know it was okay. I know some people think it's murder." Max's voice lowered. "Jenny, can I be honest with you?"

She squeezed his left hand. "Of course."

Max stood, looking out. "When you and Sam lost your baby, I felt like shit. Like what me and Liz had done was why you and Sam..."

"Max, it doesn't work that way."

He turned to her. "I know, I probably knew it then too, but man, I felt so bad for you guys after all you did to support us. Then I felt like, oh God, like what we did..."

Jenny stood, embracing him. "Oh honey, it wasn't anyone's fault!"

"I know, I mean, you're right. Lexi said she felt pretty bad getting rid of hers when you were pregnant with Will, but she knew she didn't wanna have it, and once I heard that, it helped. It was a really big help."

Max smiled, small and liberated. "Jenny, what I realized is that life's different for everyone. I grew up around Alvin, never thought he was all that different from anybody else, but when you moved here, and you two got together, then I heard people talking and well..."

She nodded. "I know Max."

"Yeah, but they didn't _know_ you and Alvin, not like we did. They didn't know what you meant to each other. And then I realized that no one really knows us except the ones we love the most. And sometimes," he sighed, "not even they do."

In Max's voice an adult emerged in his love for Liz, a limp arm, a sightless eye, and more. An understanding of that which lies beyond what even two eyes could comprehend, seeing with the heart.

"Anyway," he continued, "Lexi told me I could tell you, because she knew you'd wonder how I came to this all on my own." He laughed. "She'll always see me as her little brother, but you know, even us Smith kids aren't kids anymore."

"No, you're not," Jenny smiled.

Small shouts were detected, growing louder. The real children had returned, Grant toting Will, Chelsea hefted in Sam's arms. Jenny moved to the grass, waving them her way.

Max stood with her and Jenny squeezed his limp fingers, swinging that arm back and forth.

Pondering Max's words, Jenny wrote to Lexi. None of those kids, and Jenny did still think of them as kids, had ever questioned her and Alvin, accepting their love for what it was. Nor had any of them seemed bothered by the living situation she and Sam had employed once Alvin was dead. Jenny considered that, watching her children interact with Grant. He was good with Chelsea and Will, happy to feed the chickens with Chelsea's assistance, collecting the eggs. As spring bloomed in the colors of yellow and white daffodils and thickening green grass, that man and Jenny's children hooted and hollered around the farm. Jenny caught her daughter begging Grant to push her on the swing set, Will too. If there was a free moment, that's where Jenny and Sam would find them.

They stood together, Sam's arm around her middle, watching that trio. "I wonder if that's what Alvin would have been like with them," Sam whispered.

"I'm sure. Grant's slower, but it would've been similar."

Sam kissed her cheek, then his grip tightened. "I love you. How are you feeling?"

They had spoken of what trying for a baby meant; to Jenny it was what she did with the men she loved. She had no illusions: a high school dropout who'd been lost and loose in her youth. Then at twenty-nine, she had landed here, finding her place, men who loved her. That included Tommie, for not all men were about sex. She had learned that first; Alvin and Tommie were examples Jenny had never previously encountered. Sam and Jacob too, and she leaned against her husband.

Her children offered perspective, growing so quickly; if Tommie and Rae's kids weren't proof of how fast time went, Chelsea and Will were just as telling. Will jabbered constantly, still not up to Chelsea's speed, but everything needed to be identified. He was almost a year and a half old, growing taller, more agile, wasn't a baby anymore. Jenny was ready for that again and if it fell through, she would pick herself up and keep going.

"I'm feeling in love with you. Sam, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

He nuzzled her cheek, pressing against the back of her body. If it was anyone else playing with the kids, she knew he'd be tempted to go inside. Grant, however, needed constant attention.

He was the kind of man Bonnie had worried Jenny's children would be like and Jenny shook herself. "Sam, if, god forbid, something happens..."

"Honey, it'll be what it will be."

"I know, I mean, that's true. But what I meant is that if something happens, I know I wanna keep trying."

Turning to him, she felt him soften. "Sam, I just need to know if you feel the same."

He looked at the swing set, then to the ground. Jenny didn't try to tip his face her way.

"To be completely honest honey, I don't know. At this point, all I can do is be in this day."

She nodded as he glanced upward. "That's okay."

As his arms came around her, Jenny heard a small sigh, backed with the chorus of her children; "Again Grant, again!"

In the middle of the month taxes were due. Hostages remained in Iran and Jenny added yellow ribbons to the trees on the perimeter of the farm. There seemed to be no end to that stalemate and like the rest of her countrymen, she felt helpless except for that one act of solidarity. Chelsea had asked about the ribbons and Jenny explained that they were for men and women trapped in a place far away.

"Well, can't we get them out?" Chelsea asked as Jenny covered her with a blanket. It was nap time and Will was already asleep.

"President Carter's trying honey. We just have to wait."

Jenny kissed her daughter, but was surprised by Chelsea's response. "I'm gonna pray."

"You are?"

"Uh-huh. To Jesus."

Jenny had noted Chelsea's prayerful motions in the past, but hadn't acknowledged them. Now she was curious. "Chelse, who taught you to pray?"

"Daddy did."

Jenny stood, watching those small folded hands. No words were said and Jenny left the room, questions in her head.

Sam was in the trees and Jenny didn't get a chance to speak to him until bedtime. She had given the kids their bath, Sam busy with the checkbook. After Will's bottle, administered by his father, Jenny let Sam take them upstairs, and she waited for him on the couch.

"Well, that's done. That girl, I don't know how Will sleeps through all her carrying-on."

Sam relaxed against her, his body weary. Steve and Max were on their own farm lately, but Jenny knew Sam liked feeling more competent as his agricultural skills improved. At times he joked he wasn't much better than Grant, but that wasn't accurate. Sam had found a passion on that land, even if he was still undecided about expanding the orchard.

"Honey, Chelsea prays." Jenny blurted it, unsure of how else to bring it up.

"Oh yeah. I uh, I meant to say something to you about that."

It didn't bother Jenny, not as it might have last year after Sam's awkward attempt at grace. Jenny still didn't believe in god, but since losing her baby, she had felt some unexpected sense of providence. Was it a strange coincidence or was she only softening her feelings?

"Jenny, after we got married, I had to think about a few things. I mean, it still hurts."

"I know."

He released a deep sigh. "When I said _I do_ , it was like some sacrament." He laughed. "I know that's what marriage is supposed to be for Catholics, probably other denominations too. Tracy was Catholic, or her mom was, but we didn't have a church wedding, pissed her mother off to no end. I never gave it too much thought, but honey, when I married you, I mean, the actual ceremony, not only did I become your husband, take you forever, but something, I don't know. Something changed."

Jenny knew some of these things, those concerning Sam's late wife. The rest was new to her.

"After Alvin's birthday, I started praying again. I used to, everyone once in a while, then when you got pregnant, Christ, it was most days. Just because what we had..." Sam's voice cracked and he laid his head against Jenny. "Then afterwards, I had to wonder. Was there a God? Was that real? I'd been praying with the kids at night, you know, _Now I lay me down to sleep_. But Chelsea had started folding her hands, so that's what we did. Then I stopped and she didn't seem to miss it, not until after the wedding."

The couple enveloped the other, Jenny gripping Sam's fingers.

"Then after we went to Alvin's grave, it was like, look at all I have. Which is terrible, because I loved him too, I didn't want him to die." Sam sat up, holding Jenny's face in his hands. "Honey, never in a million years did I want that."

"I know Sam, I know."

He placed his head in the warm, soft crook of her lower torso. "All I wanted was for you two to be happy. And then just for you to not hurt. And for Will to be all right. That was all I wanted. For Will to be all right."

He wept quietly as Jenny stroked his beard.

"Maybe honey, maybe if something happens, maybe we can just keep trying, I don't know. I never thought, I mean, just that after everything else, how could something bad happen? When I got drunk on Will's birthday, I knew I'd left you alone, which wasn't right at all. You've had so much shit in your life and that was the last thing you needed."

Sam sat up, his face red, but not sad. "Honey, I'm sorry for that, and if you want, I'll stop praying with the kids. I know I said they could decide when they were older, but that's what Mom did with me and Jacob. Stuck with me," Sam laughed, "and I guess it's something for me to give them of the Cassels that isn't a drop-dead drunk."

Jenny trembled. Sam was offering a part of Maisie in addition to his beliefs. Jenny's heart pounded and she flung herself around him. "Don't stop Sam. I don't know what I believe, but I loved your mother and oh god! Don't stop on my account, okay? Okay?"

He nodded; she felt that, along with his clutching hands. Hearing nothing from their children, the couple stayed there, wrapped in the other's arms.

Chapter 21

On Friday, the twenty-fifth of April, President Carter addressed the nation, detailing a failed rescue mission for the hostages. Helicopters had encountered a sandstorm and some crash-landed in Iran. Not a single hostage was returned as eight servicemen were killed, the Carter Administration humiliated.

Jenny noted weariness on the President's face; she felt the same all through. His chances for reelection plummeted after the botched attempt and the next morning she tied yellow ribbons around every single rose bush.

Perhaps they weren't trees, but as Jenny had felt imprisoned by her father, she held great empathy for those trapped in a foreign country halfway around the world. Those who knew her history weren't surprised by her efforts, but it had nothing to do with overt patriotism.

For a few days Jenny was blue. Those close to her guessed the reason, but no one except Sam spoke of it. Jenny stewed inwardly. It was that, and something more.

The couple's baby would be due in a few weeks had it survived. Between that and the ongoing hostage crisis Jenny had a difficult time smiling. Chelsea and Will were a formidable combination and when Tommie and Rae came for lunch a fortnight later, they offered to take the kids for the afternoon.

"You look absolutely ragged," Rae said.

"I am just beat," Jenny admitted, taking her chair.

She had made pigs in a blanket and deviled eggs, and there was little left. Grant had joined them, but once finished, he returned to the garden. With only family, Jenny spoke her mind. "How long have they been over there now, six months? And our government can't even figure out a way to get them freed, not by big army missions or simple diplomacy. Makes me sick to my stomach!" She stood, rushing to the back door.

She threw up over the side of the railing, Sam and Tommie beside her. A glass of water came her way, then Jenny returned, her children looking frightened. "Mama, you okay?" Chelsea asked.

Jenny sat down. She did feel unwell, had for a few days. Too much in her head or maybe now it was a bug. She offered a weak grin. "Just got a bad tummy."

Jenny looked at Sam, whose face showed worry, as did Rae's. Then Jenny stared at Tommie, who sported the biggest smile. A shit-eating grin, what Tommie would say, if he could see it. "What?" she asked him.

"Jenny, you uh, you're not feeling well, right?"

"Yeah. C'mere and I'll give it to you."

He laughed. "Oh, I don't think I can catch what you've got."

"Oh really?" She still felt queasy, wished there was some way she _could_ give him a little taste of it.

"Well, yeah honey. I don't have the right equipment."

For a few seconds Jenny didn't understand. Then she saw Rae's huge eyes and slack jaw. Then Jenny gazed at Sam, who also seemed taken aback.

"What?" she asked.

"Jenny, shit!"

Tommie stopped there, usually keeping his mouth in check around the kids. He stood, then knelt down. "Jenny, what'n the hell have you and Sam been trying to do?"

She hadn't even considered it. Jenny counted in her head and sure enough, she was late. Several days late, if she remembered correctly. She usually remembered, marking the days on a calendar in their bedroom.

"Oh my god!" Jenny ran upstairs, Sam on her heels. It was the fifteenth of May and her calendar along the far wall was empty, no one in their clan with a birthday that month.

With Sam beside her, Tommie's footsteps approaching, Jenny took down the page from last month. Five X's were marked in blue ink on the middle five days of April. She'd been due to start last week, but had forgotten. No physical signs had reminded, only the attempted rescue of the hostages swirling in her head.

Counting the days, she reached thirty-two there on that Thursday, well past her usual twenty-eight-day cycle. Her stomach reeled; were they expecting a baby?

Another baby, Jenny thought, moving past her brother, who toted Chelsea. Jenny reached the toilet as the rest of lunch lurched up her throat.

The first thing Jenny did, after staggering from the floor, was embrace her husband. Then she brushed her teeth, kissed Sam, Tommie, and her daughter. Going downstairs, she coveted Rae's grip, but no words emerged. Rae blinked tears with Will in her arms.

Jenny called her doctor, but couldn't be seen until next week. They would have to wait until Wednesday before anything could be confirmed.

With Chelsea and Will in the playpen, the adults sat at the table, saying little. Jenny's hands were clutched by Sam and Tommie, her mind abuzz. A baby, and she hadn't even noticed! Her breasts had been sore, but nothing noteworthy, and until that very day she hadn't been at all sick. She'd been exhausted, but had chalked it up to her mental state. Now it was her physical bearing all questioned.

"I can't believe we have to wait until Wednesday," Rae sighed.

"Well, you look pregnant to me," Tommie grinned.

"Like I have a big sign on my forehead?" Jenny smirked.

"Something like that," Tommie chuckled.

Sam remained quiet and Jenny squeezed his hand.

"Honey, why don't I run to town, get a test?" Sam said.

"You mean one of those kits?" Rae asked.

Sam nodded.

"Are you sure?" Jenny's voice was soft, as was her hand on his.

"I know I can't wait till Wednesday."

Jenny didn't want to wait either. If she felt worse, she'd be more apt to accept what was probably true. She had been regular since the beginning of the year, but again nausea flared and she took a drink of water. "Well, I'd like to know too."

"Are those things that accurate?" Rae sniffed.

Jenny nodded. "Yeah, they are."

"Listen, why don't Sam and I go in, then no one'll know which of us it's for."

Tommie's eyes twinkled, but Rae grimaced. "I do not want people thinking you and I are having another kid!"

Sam chuckled. "No, that's okay. I'll go, won't take more than a minute."

He stood, gathering his keys and wallet. He gave Jenny a kiss, then was out the door.

It took Sam twenty-five minutes and he received some curious stares while inside Dougal's Drugs. Leaving with a small paper bag, anything could have been assumed, a prescription for one of the kids, pads for Jenny, condoms perhaps. But by the time hearsay had circulated through Arkendale, Jenny and Sam knew. So did Tommie and Rae, Jacob and Debbie and all their kids. Jenny called Sylvia and Keith herself, two that _hadn't_ been aware. Jenny was pleased to surprise someone. She hadn't even been the first to know.

Jenny had wanted to keep her next baby under wraps, but Sam seemed undaunted. It had been his decision to get the test and he saw no reason to conceal the news. Either the baby would hold or it wouldn't.

In Jenny's kitchen, Rae shed a few tears, her miscarriage no longer completely private. Except for Alana, all her children knew, Sam too. Rae didn't ask them to stay quiet, that was impossible. She told them to take it slow, not get too excited.

Sam nodded. "I don't know how to feel."

"Well, I feel lousy," Jenny smiled. "And I'm gonna go lay down."

She was in a good mood; not Sam's small fears or Rae's larger dread was going to spoil this day. This day she might have delivered a baby, instead she learned was going to have another.

"We'll see ourselves out." Tommie gave Sam a hug. "Shall we take the kids?"

"Nah. I think I need them close."

Tommie nodded, helping Rae stand. She had gone up the stairs to see the proof, but coming down made her leg sore. She moved slowly and Sam flanked her other side.

Once the Smiths were away, Sam closed the door. The kids had fallen asleep in the playpen and Sam left them there, finding Jenny in their bed.

He sat on the side, seeing joy in her brown eyes. Surprise too, for being caught out. Usually she was aware, but instead Tommie had known first.

"You need anything?" Sam pushed hair from her face, then leaned down and kissed her.

"Are you okay?"

She scooted to the middle of the bed and he lay beside her. "I'm shell shocked, to be honest. How do you feel?"

"A little nauseous. Oh god Sam! I just never, I mean, I'd completely forgotten, so weird. It's weird, that's what I think." She lay on her back, then kissed his hand, setting it on her abdomen. "But good. I'm ready for this."

Sam wanted to say: _Me too._ He leaned over, kissing her cheek.

They were silent, absorbing this unexpected news. Sam took a deep breath, then heard Will talking to Chelsea.

"I'll go get them."

Jenny nodded, but as he left the room, she sat up. "Don't tell them. Not yet."

"Okay," he said from the doorway.

For dinner, Sam fried hamburgers and potatoes. Jenny had a few bites, but Chelsea noticed her mother's slight appetite. "Mama, you sick again?"

"Yeah baby, a little."

Chelsea sat to Jenny's right and put her arms out to be collected. Jenny set her daughter in her lap. It made no difference to her stomach's woes and they ate their dinners as Sam took care of Will, who began to fuss, wanting to sit on his father's lap. Soon both children were coddled and the talk invariably began. "Chelsea," Jenny said. "What would you think if Mommy and Daddy had another baby?"

"That would be good," Chelsea said.

"You think so?" asked Sam.

"Yeah."

"What would you think if we had another baby maybe after Christmas?" Jenny said.

"When's that?"

"Oh, a long time from now," Sam said.

"How long?"

"About eight months," Jenny told her daughter.

"Hmmm. Does Santa bring babies?"

Both parents laughed. "Well no, not usually."

"Where do they come from?"

"From mama's tummy."

Chelsea looked at her mother, then poked at Jenny's belly. "Is one in there now?"

It was the girl's small voice, inquisitive and gentle. Her touch, soft but wondering. One had been in there before, but Jenny and Sam weren't sure what Chelsea remembered from last fall.

Jenny looked at Sam, who nodded while wiping his eyes. "Yeah Chelse. Right now in my tummy, in my womb there's a baby growing."

Chelsea lifted her mother's shirt. "Can I see it?"

"No honey, it's way deep inside. We can't see it yet either." They would all have to take it on faith. Whose faith, Jenny then thought.

Sam's face showed his hopes. Will was oblivious, but as Sam caressed that boy's head, Jenny knew what her husband wanted.

"Mama, you have a baby inside you?"

Jenny set her daughter's small hand under the navel. "Yeah honey, like I had you and Will, right here."

Chelsea pressed her lips near her mother's skin. "Hello baby, hello!"

Sam tried to suppress what Jenny knew wasn't going to wait much longer. As she had known Alvin's rhythms, Jenny knew her husband's, and how he was when she was pregnant. They had been pregnant before and in making love that night, it was confirmed as if she'd taken no test. It was how he touched her, Sam using new methods, but they were the same methods. It only felt differently.

Better, closer, more intimate, although, he was inside her as he'd been yesterday and the day before. Yet all was changed, returned to last fall and Jenny hoped this baby would develop, then emerge as most infants did, full term and squalling. Loud and cranky and breathing and alive; that was all Jenny hoped as Sam came, his contorted face expressing a great outpouring of his love.

He had loved her and left something behind. Not as Alvin had done, for Sam remained on Jenny that day they learned of their coming baby. He wasn't dead, but was pretty lifeless, and she smiled. He mumbled that he loved her and she swung her leg over his, her arms too. He wasn't getting away from her anytime soon.

Not for months, leaving a piece that Jenny would nurture and protect. She would do all she could to foster this baby, one she found herself coveting more than any of her previous pregnancies. Jenny had loved her children from the beginning, but this one was starting with even more affection, greater hopes. She wasn't sure if that was right or wrong, but she couldn't change it. This baby meant the world to her.

Staring at Sam, it did to him too. She had caught him wiping his eyes more than a few times that evening, but he'd been subdued with his words, maybe even a little wary. Jenny would take however Sam could be, much confusion in his eyes.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah. You?"

"Perfect."

He smiled. "It is, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Sam, I love you. Thank you."

She heard his sniffles. "Jenny, I, I..."

She waited, but he couldn't continue.

Silence floated where Jenny had slept with two men. Four babies with two men, Jenny thought as Sam wept, caressing her face.

Chapter 22

Jenny and Sam spent the next two days awed by what they had created. On Saturday night Rae made dinner, and everyone quietly congratulated the couple. Yet the news was so good, by the end of the evening no one, not even Rae, could stifle their joy.

On Sunday morning, Sam woke before his family. He had no desire to write, although notions teemed. It had taken only two months and Jenny was pregnant. She wasn't young, but had conceived easily, as she had with his first child and as with Chelsea. Will had taken longer, but Jenny's body knew the routine. Sam poured some juice and sat at the kitchen table. Now a miracle rested within his wife.

Sam and Tracy had been married when they got pregnant, maybe that was it. He finished the juice, glancing at the time. Only six thirty and he gazed outside, the weather clear. A beautiful day waited.

Even if rain had been falling, it still would have been lovely; Sam was trying to be rational, but it was difficult. He peered around the room, looking not as he remembered when Alvin lived here alone. The house had been devoid of the personal touches Jenny had added, even before Chelsea was born.

Then it became a place for family, baby paraphernalia strewn about in addition to all Jenny's blankets and framed pictures. Sam stood, moving to the doorway that led to the living room.

Chelsea's books sat at the end of the couch, an equal stack on the other side. They would read two or three a night, passing them from one end of the sofa to the other. That didn't include what was read during the day, Will eager for stories too. Half the time Sam came in, Jenny was reading to their children.

It was so domestic, a life he had ached to have with her for years. Only twelve months ago they had attended the Baxters' party, and all that had occurred since made his head swim. Good, bad, ugly; Sam swallowed, then heard his son.

William Alvin Harris Cassel looked nothing like Sam, would probably be a good three or four inches taller, possessing Alvin's face, coloring, and agility. Will might sit with his mother and sister on the sofa for a few books, but then he was off, up the stairs, all over. He had learned to scale the gate, using his toes to grip the plastic mesh. Jenny had to keep him in shoes and Will threw a fit, stuck on whatever level his mother had placed him.

That was Sam's son and he was starting to fuss. The gate was open and Sam dashed up, collecting that grinning boy, standing in his crib, waiting to be rescued.

"Daddy!"

"Hey Will." Sam kissed his small cheek, then laid him on the changing table, Chelsea unbothered in slumber.

They talked in soft voices; Sam told his son how much he loved him, and that Will was going to be a big brother. Sam wasn't sure how they would arrange the rooms, but Chelsea would be four at the end of summer, and maybe she would be content to sleep upstairs, especially if Sam convinced Jenny to put Will up there too.

Sam dressed his son, then they went down. Will was set into the high chair and Sam fixed scrambled eggs and toast, explaining why he hesitated expanding the orchard. What if the market wasn't right, then he shook his head. The market was doing fine, especially gold, skyrocketing after the hostage crisis began. Sam hadn't told Jenny just how much that eight hundred thousand dollars was now worth. Over triple that amount, but those people had been lost to their families for half a year. Sam felt no guilt with that stock increase, but understood Jenny's small obsession with yellow ribbons.

She had been imprisoned as Will in his crib, as those hostages were that very day. Another day of captivity for fifty-two Americans and Sam considered the four years Jenny had been a prisoner in her own home; how had she stayed sane? She had bruised herself afterwards and his heart ached, thinking of her at Liz and Lexi's ages, wandering from state to state and man to man with no home, family, or sense of belonging. Jenny ran away at seventeen and had never looked back.

"Done, Daddy! All done!"

"What? Oh you are, aren't you?"

Will's plate was empty and Sam smiled, ruffling his son's thick blonde hair. Sam wiped the tray and Will's hands, removing his child from the chair. Sam took him to the couch, turned on the TV, Will happy to snuggle. Feeling a chill, Sam pulled the green and gray throw over them, and leaned back, needing not much else.

"Jenny, honey. Jenny?"

"What Sam, what?" Waking to her husband's worried voice, Jenny checked her underwear. Her fingers weren't damp or red. "What is it?"

"Honey, Mount St. Helens exploded."

Jenny sat up, wiping her eyes, trying to focus. "What?"

Chelsea sat next to her mother. "Mama, the mountain blew up!"

"Sam, where's the baby?"

"He's here, c'mere Will." Sam set their son on the bed and Will got under the covers beside his sister. "Honey, we were watching TV and suddenly it said that Mount St. Helens had erupted."

"When?" Jenny wished to rest with her children. She had a feeling Sam wanted her out of bed.

"Around eight thirty. The whole side of the mountain's gone."

"Max and Liz were there just last year. They didn't say anything about it rumbling."

Sam sat on the edge and held her face in his hands. "Honey, there was a small earthquake, that's what they're saying. Somebody on the ground called it in, but then they lost contact."

"Oh my god! Sam, have they said, I mean..."

He nodded, Jenny not needing to ask in front of their children. She felt woozy, had been dreaming of Sam rocking their baby. Now she was awake and people were dead.

"Listen, let Mama get out of bed. You want anything?" he asked, taking Will and leading Chelsea from the room.

"Uh, some toast. And juice. Sam?"

He was out the door, but turned back. "Yeah?"

Jenny felt sick then and got out of bed. She opened their bedroom curtains, which faced north. To her horror a plume of smoke swirled, ash she assumed, already high in the air.

If they weren't outside staring at the growing tower, they were huddled around the TV. Tommie, Rae, and Alana came over as Jenny and Sam had a bigger living room and a better television. It was all over the news, but reports of confirmed casualties were spotty. Manning an observation post six miles from the volcano, David Johnston had radioed the first information. Since that initial warning, nothing had been heard from the young scientist, now presumed dead.

Loggers and campers were missing, along with an assortment of locals. As Jenny sat with her children or Tommie, she clutched her abdomen. Only two days ago they had learned she was pregnant, and now this.

With Alana's help, Sam kept an eye on the kids. After lunch, Chelsea and Will were taken up for naps. The rest sat in stunned silence or stepped outside staring at a flat gray sky, but not from an approaching storm. A billowing cloud of volcanic ash continued moving northward.

"Nothing's falling," Alana noted. "I wonder if we'll get any ash here."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Tommie said, looking at the television.

"I've been talking with a few friends in Portland, but nothing's fallen there yet."

Sam had spoken with former colleagues; as none had heard the blast there in Arkendale, no one in Portland had heard it either. Yet, the explosion had been noted from as far as Northern California and British Columbia. Why they hadn't heard it was a mystery.

It seemed most of the ash was being blown northeasterly and other than a huge tower of debris, the central part of Oregon appeared untouched. Still, Sam would take no chances. For the next few days he wanted Jenny and the children to stay inside.

She sighed. "Sam, nothing's in the air. It looks just fine."

"Please, for me?"

Jenny nodded.

By evening planes were diverted, some flights canceled outright. The ash was so thick in Seattle there was barely visibility to drive, let alone pilot a jet. Still nothing had descended in Oregon, but the massive explosion had devastated the surrounding area. Max and Liz brought their honeymoon pictures, Spirit Lake and what had been Mount St. Helens a pristine nature site. Now TV crews captured an area looking more like the moon, everything coated in dead-gray ash, smoldering from the lava. It would be days, weeks perhaps, until the extent of the ruin was realized, but over twenty people were confirmed dead, that figure expected to rise. Homes and bridges had been destroyed, roads and railways too.

Rae had fixed spaghetti, Sam forcing Jenny to eat. She seemed muted by the blast, or was it only morning sickness? Sam hadn't let the kids outside and they whined as Alana and Liz bathed and dressed them for bed. Others read stories and by eight o'clock, Tommie and Sam took the children upstairs.

Everyone else watched TV or stood out back, taking in the huge plume that had remained all day. It had been nearly twelve hours, most people sleeping or getting ready for church on an early Sunday morning. Tommie had been checking the cows when he noticed that tower rise from the north. The rest, except for Sam and Will, had been in bed.

"I wonder if we're gonna get any fallout." Steve and Marcy had spent most of the day watching in town with her parents. Now they sat on Jenny's sofa, Steve's eyes glued to the coverage.

"You'd think if we were, it'd be falling by now. Must be one helluva wind to carry it all north," Tommie sighed.

"East too Dad," Max added. "They're getting it as far as Idaho one report said."

"I bet it'll head further before it's over," Tommie said.

"Anything like this ever happen before?" Alana asked.

"Well now way back in the early part of the century Mt. Lassen in California blew, I read about that in school." Tommie stood, then set his right hand on Jenny's shoulder. "But I don't know if it was as bad as this."

"I think they said it was fifteen hundred times stronger than the bomb they dropped on Hiroshima." Steve sighed, then moved from his seat. "My God, can you imagine? And none of us heard it, what's that about?"

"I don't know son," Tommie answered.

Other than the earthquake which triggered the blast, there seemed to be no reason for such devastation. Less than two hours away, they had heard no sound or explosion, experienced no remnant from the plume as if they lived halfway across the country. Yet all they had to do was look north. There it was.

In the night, Jenny woke, then looked out their bedroom window. All she saw was darkness. She felt sick, but nothing emerged. She gagged, then peed, then went back to bed.

Sam stirred, then used the bathroom. When he returned, Jenny had the blankets over her ears. The room wasn't cold, but she shivered. "Honey, what is it?"

"I don't know. Sam, I won't go out, I promise."

"Baby, you okay?"

She cuddled next to him, wrapped in her husband and the bedding.

Mount St. Helens was on all lips, many unaware it was an actual volcano. On Tuesday afternoon Sam relented, letting the kids outside. No ash had fallen, but he was vocal about his reluctance to put in new trees. "I knew there was some reason," he told anyone close.

It had been his gut, some odd reaction to the miscarriage. Now he worried their small orchard might not have any crop that year, or the garden. New strawberries had been planted in addition to all the regular vegetables, an extra third of an acre having been tilled. If any ash fell, perhaps it would be quickly washed away.

Jenny was still shaky, but said she felt fine physically. On Wednesday they went to the doctor, the pregnancy confirmed. Due to Jenny's age and previous miscarriage, Dr. Fisher wanted to see her every two weeks, which pleased Sam. Jenny was agreeable, but Sam felt something was amiss. She only said she felt cold.

The weather was spring-like and on Saturday, the twenty-fifth of May, they had a barbecue, Sam's fears of being outdoors unfounded. Jenny seemed better, chatting with Lexi who was home for the weekend. Those two spent a long time near the roses. When they returned, both appeared tearful.

Rain threatened, but didn't fall until after Sam and Jenny were in bed. He heard the wind and asked if that bothered her.

"Sam, it's not. Honey, I just don't know. The hostages are still out there and now this. It feels ominous, like right after Will was born, some big dark cloud."

"I love you. It's gonna be okay."

She curled into him, placing his hands on their baby. "Sam, almost exactly one year ago, we made love. You realize that?"

He smiled. "Yeah honey, I remember."

She smiled, but it was qualified. "You mean everything to me, you, this baby, our kids. Fifty-two hostages are still over there and what's it up to now, over forty-five people dead from the blast? Sam, I, I..."

Sam cradled Jenny as she burst into tears. Hormones were to blame, he smiled, as her small, aching voice called for him. Discarding his briefs, Sam helped Jenny from her nightshirt. They made love, listening to the rain.

In the morning, Jenny woke first. She felt somewhat better, Sam's touch alleviating much of her discomfort. It was all mental, for she was feeling less sick every day. She used the toilet, washed her hands, then before getting back into bed, she peeked out the window.

At first, she thought her eyes were tired. She squinted, then rubbed them. Tiny particles drifted from the sky, covering the back garden.

"Sam, Sam!"

He woke stock straight, jumping from bed as Jenny pointed to the remnant of yet another blast, falling to the ground.

"My God," he said, holding her close.

Jenny trembled. "Make it stop! Make it go away!"

Chapter 23

Throughout June all of Arkendale lay under clouds of rain and ash. In late July, a column shot into the air, a tower surpassing the previous maximum height. A few days later Sam and Jenny heard their baby's heartbeat as no ash floated. Sam still had Jenny wear a mask and she didn't argue. That summer, Jenny didn't say much about anything.

She was animated listening to the child within her, Sam wiping tears as the stethoscope amplified rapid, steady beats quicker than Chelsea's speech. By then, Jenny was even starting to show and Sam couldn't keep his hands from his wife and their baby. The family spent time indoors, avoiding streams of floating particles. Sam and Grant used masks when doing chores, Tommie, Steve, and Max too. On the worst days Tommie kept baby calves in the barn, but rain washed grass and gardens clear before much could accumulate.

In early August another eruption raised a cloud eight miles high and later that same evening another blast pushed the tower even further. Two weeks later ash bounded into the sky, reaching a height of ten miles. Small collections of debris lay along the road, trickling along gutters. What went up had to come down.

Jenny's temperament was similar. Thunderstorms appeared and she didn't flinch, but something else had been altered, not just the mountain, no longer a formidable, majestic peak. Now a crater loomed, the surrounding area as if an enormous bomb had been detonated. Acres of land and trees were scorched by lava or erased from mudslides. How and when the area might return was anyone's guess.

How Sam felt about his wife; their baby showed no signs of being lost, but Jenny was slipping. Sam and Tommie knew, Sylvia, Jacob and Debbie. Rae too, but she pretended all was well. Jenny was fine, Rae said, but in her cool gray eyes Sam found a flicker of worry. Jenny wasn't fine at all.

In the middle of August, Sam and Tommie noted how the garden was thriving, the fallen ash a fertilizer none had anticipated. The apple trees flourished, but Sam was glad to not have planted more, this year an unplanned experiment. Tommie spoke of a barbecue celebrating Max and Liz's first anniversary. A date was set for Saturday, the thirtieth of August, right before Alana and Scott started their last year of high school.

Then talk turned from a get-together to Jenny. The baby was healthy and Sam spoke with no hesitation on that subject. His wife was four months along, had just felt the first movements. That had lifted her for a few days, then her malaise returned. She didn't know _why_ she felt down and Sam believed her. If Jenny could pinpoint her fears, Sam didn't doubt she would tell him.

Was it some reminder of her childhood, a return to memories from more than half her life? Jenny had left Colorado at seventeen. Now she was stuck in a rut, a volcano the trigger. The blast, compounded by the continuing crisis in Iran, had stirred Jenny's fears.

Was another piece their baby? She had been more eager than he, once they knew, then two days later Mount St. Helens blew. Jenny had shut down, but so slowly, not like when thunderstorms raged. That response was immediate and violent; Sam never forgot how she had fallen apart during storms. This was different, then Sam wondered aloud; was this how she had retreated as a teenager?

Tommie had no idea. She hadn't spoken to him and if she'd told Alvin, he hadn't said. None of them knew how Jenny was during those four years, or what kind of girl she had been before. Afterwards she was cold, cut-off, but so open, allowing any and all to do with her as they wished. She had discarded her heart after leaving home, but what had happened to it while she was still there?

In Colorado Springs, Jennifer Melinda Cope had been born and raised, then raped and held prisoner. It had been a strange captivity allowing certain freedoms, but not the most essential; the knowledge that she dwelled in a safe, nurturing environment, one loving, consistent, and honest. From the age of thirteen, Jenny never lived another authentic moment with her blood family.

Outwardly the Copes were a cohesive unit, two parents who showed no discord. Inside the atmosphere was never openly hostile, but never correct either. Jenny's father was a monster and her mother was... There Sam stumbled.

"She never said anything, but my God Tommie, how could she've not known? Tracy's mother knew, goddamn her, but never did anything. Tracy always thought her mother had been abused and didn't know any better. But Jenny's? I have no idea."

"Sam, could you ask? Maybe she needs to talk about it." Tommie wasn't sure, and said so. "This's way past what a simple farmer knows."

"Tommie, I've tried but now that she's pregnant..."

Sam was terrified to risk the baby. In the few words she had managed, Jenny shared that notion.

The men sighed, looking north, the sky clear. Rain had fallen and the earth looked as usual; green grass, flourishing trees, plentiful shrubs. The roses had exploded, one bright spot over which Jenny grew teary; Alvin would have loved all the flowers.

Sam wished Alvin was there, his gentle, simple ways having healed Jenny so well five years before. For the first time since their miscarriage, Sam felt utterly helpless. Jenny was his wife, but just as Tracy had been in harm's way, Sam felt disquiet and uncertainty. His baby was one part, but Jenny's anxieties were eerie. They should be thrilled for what was coming. Instead Sam knew a lingering dread.

Jenny worked light blue and yellow yarn; she thought the baby was a boy, hadn't said as much to Sam. Sexually she wasn't interested, as she had been when pregnant with Will. However, that hadn't been only a male inside her, but what was missing. Sam had been patient with her, in more ways than in their bedroom. Something was wrong; she considered all the possibilities, but beyond her miscarriage, Alvin's death, and her father, Jenny couldn't come up with anything that would account for her fears. Jenny was afraid.

Not for her child, one that moved and turned. She was eager for Sam to share those sensations, which would occur soon and her joy increased, along with desire. With the children napping, Jenny set her yarn in the rocker. Who knew how she might feel by bedtime?

She found Sam in the barn, having sent Grant home. "Honey, you okay?"

"Oh hey baby." Sam stood from a hay bale. "You all right?

She came close, kissed him, seeing the surprise in his eyes as they pulled from each other. "I'm horny. Thought we shouldn't waste the moment. Grant gone?"

"Uh, yeah," Sam breathed with difficulty. "You sure know how to surprise a man."

She giggled, which felt good. She felt like herself, then felt him. Sam was hard and Jenny kissed him again. If he wasn't careful, she would take him up to the loft.

She had made love up there a few times, three years since the last instance, when she had driven here after fighting with Alvin. After Sam's words, then a few from Tommie, Jenny had driven Tommie's old pick-up, then apologies had poured from Alvin's lips. Jenny found Sam's and soon they were all over each other.

"Oh God baby," Sam whispered. It had been two weeks, Jenny fully aware of time that had felt slow all summer, especially with a strangled libido. But now Sam was all she wanted.

His hands moved along her back and they leaned against a beam that ran from the ground to the loft. Their baby was a small hindrance and Jenny smiled. "Let's go inside."

They reached the porch, hearing no sound. Going up the stairs might disturb the children, so they went to the couch. Using the green and gray throw to preserve the sofa, Jenny undressed as Sam pulled the curtains.

Then he peeled off his shirt. Jenny undid his zipper, kisses shared throughout. Sam sat on the couch and Jenny fit over him. There was no hesitation, only rapture. And within a short time, it was over.

They didn't move, relishing the uninhibited nature and just being together. "Maybe I'm turning a corner," she smiled.

"Maybe." He kissed her face. "I've missed you."

"Me too, oh Sam!"

Her tears started as he pulled the edges of the blanket around her, then set his hands along the firmness of their baby. Jenny placed a hand there too, using the other to wipe his face. "It's okay Sam, really."

"You're not," he muttered.

She didn't move. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Baby, you don't have to be sorry. I just wish..."

"I know, me too. Why Sam, why?"

Stroking her face, then he returned his fingers to her belly. "Jenny, I'm gonna ask you something and if you can't answer, that's okay."

"What?"

His hesitation was followed by the most tender sound Jenny had ever heard. "Honey, can you tell me what happened before your father hurt you?"

She lay in bed with their children at her side. She hadn't spoken to Sam's query, but tears had poured; while words were stuck, memories were not, racing through her as soon as Sam's question ended. Even now, within her head, another explosion screamed. Yet for all her recollections, not one was voiced. Jenny knew her past, but not how to express it.

Only in her children did she find peace. In their happy laughter, small words, and loving touches they erased all her life before the age of thirteen. She was their mother who would die before anything or anyone hurt them. Jenny had to be a mother; to be a child was impossible.

Sam spoke to Tommie over the phone. A small breakthrough had occurred; before Jenny had known anything evil or wrong, a family had existed, good and whole. Her father had abused Jess and Jane for years, but Jenny had been ignorant. Faint memories from her purged childhood had been stirred; was it Chelsea no longer a baby, a reminder of being trapped? Maybe the silence of the blast, coming out of nowhere, similar to how Jenny's world had irrevocably altered after her father's attacks. Which of those held responsibility, Sam wasn't sure, but he recognized what needed to be addressed.

"Tommie, I think, and maybe this's being simplistic, but if we had some idea if her parents were alive or dead, even still together. He was gonna leave her mom and maybe if we could track them down, maybe her sisters might know."

"Yeah, maybe. Sam, you want me to go to Colorado?"

"Christ Tommie, yes I do. I can't leave her, but one of us has gotta find out what in the hell happened to them."

Sam would make arrangements for Tommie to leave as soon as possible. Then Sam asked if he wanted to go alone. Tommie hemmed and hawed.

"What if Max goes with you?" Sam offered.

"You know, that'd be good. Get him away for a bit. But what'll I tell him, I mean..."

Sam heard footsteps, those of his wife and daughter, Will in Jenny's arms. Her face wore temporary respite and she stood beside him, placing his hand on their baby. While Sam felt no movement, from her relieved smile, that child was off to the races.

"Tommie, you just clear things with Rae and pack a suitcase."

Sam ended the call, seeing questions in Jenny's eyes. "Where's he going?"

Sam took Will and set both children in the playpen. There was a small fuss, then Chelsea grabbed a book and began to read a story she knew from the pictures. Sam listened to her light voice, then he led Jenny into the kitchen and sat her at the table, clasping her hands in his. "Honey, Tommie's going to Colorado."

"To find out what?"

"Whatever he can. Baby, it's time. We need to know."

She nodded, then looked up, her eyes dry. "Is he going alone?"

Sam shook his head, then caressed her face. "No, but I'm staying here. Honey, I told him to take Max. And Jenny, I'll just tell Max that..."

"Tell him the truth."

Chelsea's voice wafted into the kitchen, Will asking questions.

"Are you sure?" Sam asked.

Jenny gazed to her babies. "Like you said, it's time. I don't wanna run anymore. My life's out there somewhere. Tell him Sam. Tell Max why."

Her tone was stoic, but she trembled. Sam hoisted her up, then held her close, hearing those words. "It's time. I can't hide anymore."

Chapter 24

Tommie and Max Smith had tickets to Colorado Springs for Saturday, August twenty-third, their return for Thursday the twenty-eighth, right before the barbecue. Those details were known, but not even Sylvia Baxter realized all that Tommie hoped to discover.

Jacob and Debbie knew, Rae too, then one other was informed. Sam and Tommie told Max he would accompany his dad and Max was thrilled. Then he was gutted, once he heard the reason.

They told him on Wednesday night. Only Rae was home and she remained in the kitchen while the men sat in the dining room with the door closed. Tommie began, but something about speaking of Jenny's father made him choke, reminding him of the innocent horror in his best friend's eyes. Incest had never crossed Alvin's mind, not even with his own experience of sexual abuse. As Sam continued where Tommie couldn't, Max's face filled with horror, disgust, then deep sorrow.

"Jesus Christ!" Max jumped from his chair, gripping his bad arm. Tommie could watch that, wondering if his son felt what he was doing.

Max's left hand was strong, his penmanship improving. That arm was now all he had and tears fell from Max's eyes. Tommie prayed it was due to Max's tenacious grip, but he knew the real source.

"She's okay Max, I mean, it was over half her life ago, but now it's hitting her in a place that needs resolution. All these years she's never known what happened to them, always lived keeping herself invisible but it's time for that to end."

Max trembled; only nineteen and to learn of such things? Tommie had been coming on forty when Alvin told him. Tommie had only known Jenny for a few months; now she was a part of this family. Max stared at his father and Tommie stood, joining them.

Max grasped Tommie, who wrapped that boy against him, feeling Max wanting to be completely enveloped. Sam lifted that limp limb, adding his body to the pile. As Max broke down, Tommie heard Rae just outside the door.

She didn't come in, but Max's cries were loud, like that of a child. Then he heaved a deep sigh. "Christ, she never had any family until she came here!"

"No Max, she never did," Sam said.

Max went to the door, then opened it, finding his mother in the hallway. "Mom, did you know about this?"

Tommie couldn't see his wife, but heard her tentative voice. "Uh, yeah honey. I did."

"Oh Mom!"

Stepping from the dining room, Tommie witnessed their embrace, Rae's eyes closed. He knew what was in her mind, that awful day three years ago when she too learned what Max now knew. What they would know, and never forget, for the rest of their lives.

The next morning Max drove to Jenny and Sam's, but not for work. Grant and Sam weren't around and Max knocked on the door, a small voice on the other side. "I'll get it! I'll get it!"

His smile emerged as Chelsea opened the door in boots, a skirt and tank top. "Hi Max!"

She looked just like her father and for a few seconds Max was glad she didn't look anything like her mother. Jenny wasn't a child, but someone had hurt her years before when she was younger than Alana. That had stuck in Max's craw and he'd pondered all the times Jenny had offered Liz a shoulder and loving words. He wouldn't say a thing to his wife, but Max would always know.

"Hey Chelsea. You uh..."

"When Daddy gets back I'm going on the tractor!"

"Chelsea, let Max in the door."

She ran into the kitchen as The Rolling Stones blared from the living room. Chelsea spun around as Jenny wiped Will's face, then the high chair tray. "Hey Max, how are you?"

Jenny faced her son, her voice no different, yet everything with Jenny was altered. Max inhaled, then sat in the closest chair. "I'm fine. How're you?"

"Doing okay," Jenny smiled, turning's Max's way.

He noticed her loose top, one of Sam's old work shirts. "I'm uh..." What he said next would set the tone for the rest of his life with Jenny. Max was aware of that, but not much more.

"Chelsea, will you sit with Will until Daddy gets back?"

"Yeah Mama."

"Just a minute Max," Jenny said.

He nodded as she took Will from the high chair, another Alvin clone. Chelsea's chatter filled the room and Will bantered in response, a stream Max didn't understand. Everything was dark and clouded, although the day was sunny and warm. Chelsea had to remove her boots before getting in the playpen, what he heard in her little-girl voice. She talked just as much as Alvin had, in a similar cadence, but only because she was young.

Jenny turned off the music, still speaking to her children in a soft tone. Once she stepped through the kitchen doorway, she closed the door behind her, leaving a small crack. From that opening, Max could still hear Chelsea.

He looked to the floor, hearing Jenny approach. She sat next to him, but left space. "Thanks for going with your dad. I'm not sure how Tommie'd be on a plane by himself."

She spoke as if it was something to do with the cows or Max's arm. Instead it was her past, her awful, horrible childhood.

"Jenny, I uh..."

"It's okay. I've been running and hiding all my life. We just need to know is all."

He nodded, wanting to look at her but unable to do so.

"It was a long time ago, but I'm uh, not doing so well this summer. Sam and your dad think it's time to find out what happened to them."

To her blood family, people Max had never considered. Not quite fourteen when he met Jenny, Max only recalled she was Alvin's roommate, then his girlfriend. Alvin had a girlfriend, but it was like they were married. Then came Chelsea, and Max had no sense for much beyond that until their big fight during the barbecue when it rained. Jenny stayed with them for a few days and their disagreement blew over as soon as it had arrived.

Pieces fell into place; why she didn't drive, why she hadn't discouraged them from the abortion, why she'd been so protective of Liz when Chad Lambert was trying to make his moves. That had almost killed Max, what had finally opened Liz's eyes to him. To Max Smith, whose one good eye was now too aware.

Jenny stared at the door. Her children waited behind that wall, safe and happy, even when stuck in the playpen. Had Jenny ever felt that way?

Max didn't know details, hadn't wanted that much information. There, in front of her, he was curious, only in comparing it to her kids. Had she been as young as Chelsea? His father had said she left home at seventeen, Alana's age almost, and Max had to stand.

"Honey, I know it's hard to hear that kind of stuff. I never think about it, it was such a long time ago, but holding all that in isn't any good. It's really not."

He nodded weakly, grabbing his bad arm. He felt a hollow, drained pain for her, for Liz years before, for his dad when Tommie's drinking seemed insurmountable. Yet, those last two had turned out all right.

Max turned back to her. "Jenny, I, I'm so sorry!"

"Me too honey. Me too."

She joined him, tracing his sightless eye. Then she took his bad hand, fingers not gnarled and broken like his father's. Jenny made them into a fist, then brought them out again. "Everyone's got something. Some are obvious, some no one knows about, sometimes not even the person. We try to hide, try to forget, but we can't. Not and survive." She tipped his head forward. "Just see what you can find out. I have two sisters there; he raped them too."

Her voice was plain and unashamed. Max nodded.

"I was thirteen, but he'd been at it with them for years. I've hashed all that out with Alvin and Sam, but now, I don't know. I keep thinking about how no one here heard the blast from Mount St. Helens. That and the hostages; we see the yellow ribbons, but what does that mean? They're still over there and no one can get them out. Pictures are on TV, ash falls, all those ribbons. So much ash and ribbons Max, but it's all so silent."

Jenny looked around the room. "All I feel is afraid, for me, Sam, for the kids. This baby too." She set his good hand on her small belly. "Max, thanks for doing this."

"Jenny, I, I..."

"And honey, maybe one day you can tell your dad about yours." Jenny sighed. "Not your mother, Rae would never understand. But Max, if there was ever a right time. Tommie loves you and I know how you feel."

She looked away and Max heard tears, which she removed with the hem of her apron.

He had wanted to be honest with his dad, even before this was known. Maybe Lexi would never tell their parents and Jenny was right. Max's mom would be crushed, but he didn't like keeping things from his father, had told him exactly how he felt when Tommie was drinking. It hadn't done a lick of good, but at least Max hadn't lied. Which was how he felt now, as if keeping a secret. Jenny had kept a secret when young and look what it had cost her.

"Just something to consider," she said.

"Uh-huh," Max answered as the children called for their mother.

Tommie and Max left on Saturday morning with their wives and Sam seeing them off. Jenny had wanted to come, but wasn't feeling well. Jacob and Debbie were driving them to Portland, Tommie and his son flying straight to Colorado Springs. They had a motel on the west side of town, near where Jenny was raised, and a rental car would be waiting at the airport.

Tommie had never been on a plane before, was a little nervous. He and Rae had made love that morning, just in case, she had said. That they'd also made love last night had been for the same reason, again Rae taking all precautions. Liz clung to her husband, a couple already missing the other. Two suitcases rested in the trunk of Debbie's car, Tommie noting Sam's anxious eyes on every face. All there but Liz knew the truth.

She shed a few tears, then released Max. Tommie kissed Rae, then shook Sam's hand. "I'll call you when we get in," he said to Rae, but for all. "Then tomorrow we'll get started."

"Sounds good," Sam said.

"All right, well..." Tommie couldn't think of any more to say, not without being overt. Even if Liz hadn't been there, he probably would have kept his mouth shut.

He led the way, Liz and Max still close, Rae at the back, chatting with Debbie. Tommie couldn't hear them, but it wasn't light talk. Before Max took the back seat, he gave his wife one more hug, another kiss too. As Sam shook his brother's hand, Rae came Tommie's way.

"Be careful, you hear?"

"I will. Don't have too much fun while I'm gone."

She wore a small smile. "Gonna sew. Not much else to do."

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

"Oh Tommie!"

Rae fell against him, the first time they would be parted for more than a few nights. Tommie gripped her. "It'll be all right honey. I'll be back in less than a week."

As she wiped tears, Tommie got in the back seat behind Debbie, putting on his seat belt. He heard the same click from Jacob, Max already buckled in. They said nothing as Tommie stared behind him until his wife, held by Sam, was no longer in view.

Sam kept his eyes on the clock all morning; once noon came and went, Tommie and Max would be on their plane. After they were in the air, Sam felt something would be eased, maybe only his mind. Maybe Jenny's. She had been quiet that morning, Will too, both subdued with a cold. Sylvia had come for Chelsea while Sam was at the Smiths and now Will was napping, Jenny as well.

Sam spent a few minutes picking up the living room, but little clutter remained. Chelsea was a big help, more than they knew, and with the coming baby, the little chatterbox would be even more necessary. Keeping her brother happy, organizing the toy baskets; Sam smiled, missing his lively daughter.

From the stairs, he heard Jenny move, and he met her just outside the bathroom door. She smiled, then went in, and he closed the nursery door most of the way. Sam waited on the landing and when Jenny emerged, she went to his arms.

In bed, Jenny said she didn't want to hear anything until Tommie and Max returned, didn't want to spend each day pondering what they might or might not have discovered. Chelsea's fourth birthday was right after they came back; the barbecue would be a party for her as well as an anniversary celebration for Max and Liz, an end to summer.

Sam's hands traveled from Jenny's face to their baby, then back to Jenny's hairline, where he stroked brown strands at her temples. Her eyes were closed, her breathing even. She'd been sniffly that morning, but had slept well, and now was peaceful.

If she initiated anything, he would make love to her. She seemed tired, but not sad. He caressed the baby, wishing to feel more of that child. In another few weeks, then Sam could rejoice.

"He's wiggling around in there," Jenny said. "Only needs to get a little bigger."

"I'm waiting, that's for sure."

She giggled. "Me too."

Jenny curled against him and all Sam wanted for her was to know release, no more pain. It was an unrealistic request, but he could want that for her. For all he wished to give her, peace of mind was paramount.

They had enormous blessings which Sam wouldn't discount, yet her long sighs, her restless nature; for that he sought change. Sam wanted her as they had been this time last year, or even six months ago. The miscarriage had been bad, but this with Jenny rocked Sam to his core.

"Honey, I love you." Her voice was faraway.

"Jenny Cope, I love you too."

"Jenny Cassel," she giggled.

"Jenny Cope Cassel."

"Jenny Cassel, who loves Sam Cassel."

"Good for me," he smiled.

"Good for both of us," she said, scooting toward him.

She was already close, but as their hips met, Sam didn't hide his erection.

"Baby, whatever they find, then we'll know." Jenny sighed. "That's all I want."

Her hands were tender along his back and Sam nodded.

"Sam, will you?"

"Yeah baby, oh Jenny Cope yes."

Sam hoped Will would nap for a few more minutes. As it was, that little boy slept for another hour, his parents no more than inches from the other.

Chapter 25

Tommie hadn't flown before, but from his calm demeanor, no one would have guessed. He sat in the middle of the row, allowing Max the window seat. To Tommie's left was a young woman a little older than Lexi, on her way to visit family, a trip for pleasure unlike the sojourn he and Max were taking. Tommie spent the entire flight gabbing with Brandy Cochran and never remembered takeoff or landing.

Max dozed, also his first time on a plane. He loved the sensation of leaving earth as the wheels lifted from the tarmac, the aircraft's nose tilting to the sky. After his ears popped, the last thing he recalled was his father talking about cattle.

When they landed it was four o'clock, allowing for the change to Mountain Time. Max was ready to stand, not having thought much more about this trip than Sam's initial invitation and Jenny's admonishments. She wanted Max to tell his dad about the abortion.

The plane taxied to the terminal and all on one side lay The Rocky Mountains, Pikes Peak foremost in view. Max's jaw hit the ground; quickly he picked it up, not wanting to appear that green of a traveler. His father continued talking, Brandy gabby like Max's dad. Once up to speed, Tommie could go the distance, maybe all those years of shooting the breeze with Alvin.

As they left the plane, heading for baggage claim, both stopped to use the restroom. Max noticed a different vibe between them, wasn't sure if it was due to the reason they were here or just that it was only father and son, the first time since Max's accident.

He felt people's stares, his eye patch and useless arm glaring. His father's hand was exposed for anyone to see. It too was worthless, but Tommie's arm was good for something. Max's limb hung without purpose and he'd talked with Liz about amputating what seemed to have no reason. She had been horrified and he'd said nothing more.

They reached the baggage carousels, near the rental car counters. While Max watched for their luggage, Tommie went for the rental car. Max spied his father, again in conversation, Tommie taking every opportunity that came his way.

Max smiled even as their purpose burned through his head. Jenny's father had raped her, and had done so for four years. It boggled his mind and had been difficult to keep from Liz. Jenny had told him to confide in her if he felt it was too much to carry alone, yet Max would never tell his wife. Not that it might change how Liz felt for Jenny, but that while Liz was resilient, it would be like telling his mother about the abortion.

He might tell his dad; during these few days Max would see what Tommie was like away from the farm. Depending on how things went in Colorado, maybe Max would test the waters, maybe.

From their motel, Tommie called Rae collect. In another day he would get a call from Sam, then they would discuss what Tommie had learned. Jenny had lived near downtown, what some people called Old Colorado Springs. Tommie and Max were staying at a bed and breakfast along North Nevada Avenue, near Colorado College. The landscape was strange to Tommie; flat and endless to the east, the Rocky Mountains usurped the entire western horizon. He loved how Pikes Peak jutted, but missed Oregon's expansive green. Here it was dry, high desert over six thousand feet above sea level; he wondered if he would get used to the lack of oxygen before they left. Tommie and Max had five days to track down Jenny's parents, but Tommie felt it would happen right away, or not until the last minute. The Copes were either around or long gone.

Colorado Springs seemed a transitory city, an army base at the southern end, the Air Force Academy to the north. Tommie felt chilled due to what happened to Jenny. Otherwise he'd think it a fine place.

She was born here, lived here until the age of seventeen. Lana would be seventeen in a few months and while she had a good head on her shoulders, she was still Tommie's baby. Jenny had been her father's youngest and Tommie felt queasy, wishing to purge what had been done to that girl. Maybe this trip could get the worst of it from her.

Jenny had said a little to him on Thursday night when he'd stopped by. She hadn't felt well, her nose runny not only from tears. Sam said she had slept all right when he came down that morning. Now, at nearly dinnertime, Tommie was far from his home, but so close to Jenny's.

Having spoken to Rae, there was only supper to consider. They had passed a diner, Charlie's Pit Barbecue, and Max was amenable.

Tommie drove, license plates looking strange. Had Jenny ever noticed all the different plates? Colorado wasn't anything like Oregon, probably hadn't looked like Florida or Georgia or New Mexico either. She had put miles between herself and this town, and while ordering dinner, Tommie listened to Max's few words, he too sensing a change.

Less oxygen to breathe, a huge mountain hovering, aspen trees which Tommie thought were charming; tall and thin with small round leaves shaking in the breeze as if silent wind chimes. What a sound they would make if true.

After dinner, Tommie was tempted by the cobbler, and both Smiths had a serving of cherry. Max was quiet, Tommie seeing much on that boy's mind, Jenny's past a lot to consider. After they finished, Tommie opened the doors, leading them into the light. The restaurant was cozy, red bench seats in the booths, a family atmosphere, yet Tommie still couldn't shake the feeling of being followed. The ghosts of Jess, Jane, and Jenny Cope screamed to be set free.

Were Jenny's sisters alive? She had no idea, but had given Tommie one photograph, the only scrap of family she had kept. They looked alike; long brown hair, similar eyes. Dressed in a straight skirt and plain blouse, Jenny looked about fifteen, but turmoil swirled in her dark eyes, in all three girls' dour faces. Tommie wondered who took this photograph; their mother or their father? He surmised it was their father. Their mother would have insisted they smiled.

Jenny's father had known those girls far too well to demand that sacrifice. In the picture Jenny stood with her blood family. She was Tommie's sister, but she was Jess and Jane's too.

That night Tommie dreamed that Jenny was a waitress at Charlie's. He didn't know where she had worked from the age of sixteen, but she served him cobbler, then brought the check. Then she set a gun on the table. "We'll go outside," she whispered. "Just one shot to the back of my head."

He sat bolt-upright, his son snoring across the room. Tommie saw where he was, then wished Rae was beside him.

He didn't go back to sleep, already after five, dawn filtering through the crack of the curtains. A Sunday morning, when usually he would be checking the herd, but this summer had been odd, what with ash falling, calves in the barn. Jenny was pregnant; she had been pregnant twice in summer, but not so quiet and fearful. She had given him the photograph on Thursday, then caressed that stump of a thumb. She'd said that she loved him, thanked him for going. Then she kissed his cheek, asked him to return. No matter what he found, all she wanted was for him to come home.

She had never gone back. Tommie wasn't sure even if he found her sisters would Jenny come back. Only one day in and Tommie was ready to do just as Jenny had asked.

By nightfall they had seen her house, far different from her description. The porch was expanded, a garage added to the left side. The large pine in front was gone, several aspens shimmering in the wind. Jenny had given Tommie the names of neighbors, but being it was Sunday, he felt funny about intruding. Yet, as he and Max explored the neighborhood, eyes were on him. As Tommie approached his car, a man his age came forth, looking friendly. "Can I help you?"

"Actually," Tommie sighed, "I'm here for a friend and I'm wondering about that house there." He pointed to Jenny's childhood home. "I know in the sixties it was owned by a family named Cope. They aren't still there by any chance?"

The man shook his head. "No, not Cope. But I've only been here three years. Jack Donnelly." The man stuck out his hand.

"Tommie Smith."

Small talk emerged; Jack Donnelly said his neighbor, Hugh Freshcer, might know, as Hugh had lived here longer than any of them. "But he's away until Tuesday."

"That's fine. Maybe I'll come round on Wednesday."

They exchanged details, Tommie with only the motel's number, but Jack seemed unbothered. "If he's home before then, I'll give you a call."

Tommie and Max nodded, more handshakes to follow. On the drive back to their place, neither said anything. Later that evening Tommie would speak to Sam, but father and son only commented on the weather, aspen trees, and what flavor of cobbler might be available that night.

On Monday and Tuesday Tommie and Max scrolled through microfilm at the library, but nothing was available from 1963 to 1966. A leaky roof was the culprit, the librarian sighed, all articles about President Kennedy's assassination lost. Tommie read through the following years, finding no mention of Jenny's family. Copes were listed in the phone book, but none of them carried Jenny's father's name, or either of his brothers. Her mother Wilma had come from Ohio, meeting Edwin Cope in Denver. They had married, settling in Colorado Springs, raising three daughters. Jenny's memories were few, but Tommie wasn't surprised.

He took another walk around the neighborhood on Tuesday evening, Max staying behind, waiting for a call from Liz. Uncomfortable thoughts swirled in Tommie's head; Jenny was home safe, but here she had been held captive, terrorized. On Sunday Sam had said she was pensive, but her cold was better. She had tried to speak of her childhood, managing a few sentences, then had fallen apart. Sam didn't want her to attempt anymore, it wasn't worth it.

How did one recover from such abuse? It was physical, the part Tommie couldn't stomach, but also emotional, the only bit he could contemplate. She had never felt safe, never known security, couldn't trust _anyone_. If her own father would perpetrate such evil, her mother silenced, who was left? How had Jenny let Alvin in, but Tommie knew it was the man, so caring and trustworthy. Alvin had been the most honorable person Tommie ever knew.

Alvin, then Sam; Jenny had lucked into them both, but Tommie wasn't sure luck was right. Blessed was more like it. Jenny had been brutally violated, but not all of a person's life could be so damned. She had been on her own for twelve years with no family to speak of, then Sylvia brought her to Arkendale, to Alvin, to all of them. Jenny had a home, those who loved her, would die to protect her. Tommie wanted to know if that was still necessary.

Was a man like Tracy's father scouring the contiguous states? Tommie stopped in front of Jenny's house, staring at the windows, the roof, the door. All were different from when she had lived here; did the owners know its history, should they? It was the 1980s, not the '60s. Time had moved on, but Tommie didn't know someone was watching him. So absorbed in that dwelling, Tommie Smith never heard footsteps until a man was right next to him.

"Can I help you?"

"Jesus Christ!" Tommie jumped. "My God, I uh..."

"You Tommie Smith?"

The man was older than Jack Donnelly, more to Keith Baxter's age, perhaps a few years past that. "Uh yeah. Yes I am."

The man sighed, then stuck out his hand. "Hugh Freshcer. I hear you're wanting to know about the Copes."

"Yes sir."

"You looking for a news story young man?"

"No sir, not at all. Actually, I'm here on behalf of a friend. I am looking for information, but it's nothing to do with a news story. Only personal."

"Jenny or Jane?" Hugh Freshcer asked.

"Yes," Tommie mumbled, noting the eldest Cope sister had been excluded.

The ghostly rustle of aspen leaves made Tommie shiver, or was it Hugh Freshcer's anguished face? Tommie swallowed, his stomach in knots.

"You have a minute, Mr. Smith?"

"I have more than a few and please call me Tommie."

"Tommie it is." Hugh Freshcer pointed to his house, across the street and down one door. "My wife's got some apple pie from a few days back. We were up in Boulder, visiting our daughter. She's Jane's age, if that's who you're here for."

Tommie had apple cobbler last night, but was prepared for more, and any accompanying information. "Apple pie sounds mighty fine sir."

Hugh Freshcer led Tommie down the street and they crossed in front of the Freshcer home. Hugh stared toward the Cope house, then shook his head. "Jess died four years ago," he said, somewhat to himself. "That girl never forgave herself."

Then he looked at Tommie, guilt etched all over Hugh's face. "But it was never Jess who needed forgiveness."

Nearly two hours later Tommie said goodnight to Hugh and his wife Sarah. Returning to his car, he had to pass the Cope house. No one in the vicinity knew the history and Hugh Freshcer wanted it to stay that way. Tommie had promised it was only going to Jenny.

Tommie's car sat at the end of the street and Max leaned against it. Tommie felt better having to pass the Cope household with his son nearby.

Trees loomed large, aspens dwarfed by larger pines that stood tall and menacing. Hugh Freshcer's words had set a heavy hand on Tommie's chest. The night was dark, but seeing Max come his way, it was nearly over.

"Dad?" Max called.

Tommie nodded. If Max was a year or two younger, he would have approached in a run. Instead they met just past Jenny's former home, embracing with vigor. Max's one-armed hugs were what Tommie now expected, and after pulling away, Tommie gripped that bad arm.

"You were gone a long time. You find out anything?"

"One of Jenny's sisters is dead, Jess, the eldest," Tommie whispered as they returned to the car. "You walk here?"

"Yeah. Lizzie saw Jenny today, said she was looking better, from her cold."

"Uh-huh." Tommie stood at the driver's door, again staring at the house. He wouldn't need to return, none of them would.

"Dad, what about the other sister? And her, uh..."

"Jane lives in Pueblo, south of here, the last Mr. Freshcer knew."

Tommie had enjoyed traveling by plane, probably good he'd had someone to chat with. He hoped that would be the case in two days when they left. Tommie might fly somewhere else one day, but he wouldn't need to return to Colorado.

He missed his son's question, then heard it the second time. "I uh, I'll tell you when we get back to the room Max."

"Okay. Dad, you want me to drive?"

Tommie stared at his son, then nodded. "Yeah. I've had some apple pie, but let's see if Charlie's is open. Maybe a cup of decaf before bed."

Chapter 26

On Wednesday Sam and Tommie spoke for more than half an hour. Jenny and the children were with Rae; neither woman wanted to be present during the men's discussion. Jenny sat on the sofa with Alana and Will on her right while Chelsea snuggled against Jenny's left side. Scott had been there for dinner, but now it was only Jenny and the Smith women. Rae's circle was small by choice; while Tommie had been an only child, Rae had an older brother and a younger sister. Yet she rarely saw them, family she had left behind when moving to Arkendale.

Not that they were estranged; Rae simply chose to associate with her husband and their children. Rae and Tommie's kids weren't chummy with those cousins, only to the Cassel kids, closer than Rae had imagined when all were little.

Alana and Scott were trying to be reasonable in that Alana was going to college in a year's time and Scott was staying home. He had spent all summer working with his father, was happy to live in Arkendale. Alana had confided that they were in love, a funny situation what with Max and Liz married, but the idea of leaving lingered in Alana's head. Even before Alvin's estate had provided funds for all the Smith and Cassel offspring, Alana had wanted to be a teacher.

She didn't mind coming home to work, telling her mother and Jenny that evening Arkendale wasn't just Jenny's base. Yet, five years apart from Scott might cause a rift.

Rae had held her tongue as Jenny noted that in five years Alana and Scott would be different people. Look at me, Jenny had smiled. I came here, met Alvin and...

Rae thought Jenny's laughter strange. Granted, she had two children, Sam and another baby coming, but unlike Jenny, Rae couldn't just let things slide. She had never been able to do that.
Alana seemed open to that idea and Rae would leave things to fall where they did. Scott Cassel was a good kid, a lot like Steve, not needing to run off, looking for other things. If Max's arm was fine... But Rae didn't ponder _what if_ or _what might have been_. Max and Liz were staying here too, how Rae wanted it.

Footsteps hit the porch, but Rae didn't move from the recliner as Chelsea opened the door. Sam stepped through, hoisting that little girl in arms always present, what she would remember from about now, Rae guessed. Chelsea was nearly four, wouldn't recall much before these days. She didn't remember Alvin except for what everyone told her; her papa was a good man who loved her and her mama, would have adored Will. The rest of Alvin Harris waited for when Chelsea could understand just what kind of man her papa was.

Not much like Sam from what Rae saw. She missed their similarities, instead noting their differences. Sam liked rock and roll, wasn't big on baseball. He preferred football and writing, liked to jog. He was quiet, not as tall as Alvin, with darker features. Sam had lived a darker life, as far as Rae would take it.

"So how are they?" she asked as if Tommie and Max were in Eugene, visiting Lexi.

"Fine. Been eating a lot of barbecue and cobbler from what it sounds like."

Rae snorted. "Well, he can have that here."

Sam sat next to his wife and Jenny leaned against him, both with brown hair, medium-sized eyes, although Sam's were gray, Jenny's brown. What their baby would look like was probably right in front of her, Rae guessed, only the eye color in question.

"Says he's ready to be home. They've had good weather, but says it's hard to breathe."

Alana offered her goodnights, kissing her mother and receiving one more hug from Chelsea.

"Mama, can I stay with Lana?" the little girl asked.

"Chelsea..." Sam sighed.

"Oh it's okay. I'm not doing much in the morning," Alana smiled.

The couple looked at each other, then to their daughter. "Sure," Jenny said.

"Not Will," Chelsea sniffed. "Only girls."

"Will's already asleep." Sam stood, then picked up his daughter. "But you be good or Lana'll boot you to the couch."

Chelsea frowned, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You can sleep with me," Rae said. "Tommie's left a big hole in our bed."

Her voice was light but truthful. She hadn't slept alone since his drinking days, missing him more than she would ever admit.

Chelsea seemed delighted with dual offers. "Can I sleep with you Auntie Rae?"

Rae stood slowly, then clasped Chelsea's small extended hand. "I'd love that honey."

Wiggling from Rae's grasp, Chelsea skipped around the room. To Jenny's nod, Rae gave a small smile.

As if his sister's absence left a chill in the room, Jenny tucked an extra blanket over Will. She found Sam in bed, making notes in one of his writing tablets.

Jenny dressed in a large nightshirt as the baby spun. She didn't question her husband while getting into bed, lying on her back, placing her hands on their child.

Sam set away the notebook, then joined her on that bump. "How are you?"

He hadn't given a single hint as to what Tommie had discovered, the men arriving home tomorrow around dinner. Jenny had tried to think of any other thing, from what to name the baby and yarn colors to the weather and baseball. "Sam, is it gonna be okay?"

"Yeah honey. You wanna know?"

She nodded, then immediately shook her head. "Is it gonna hurt?"

His hands left her belly, moving to her face. One stroked her hair, the other set around her jaw. "Yeah baby, parts of it. I love you."

She nodded, his breath right along her skin. Then his lips landed on hers, a soft, quick kiss. He owned no erection. Often he did, but not that night. Jenny scooted into him, placing his hand back on their baby. "Can you feel anything?" she asked.

"Not yet."

"Mmmhmm. Sam, how bad will it hurt?"

"Baby, you want me to tell you?"

She did, but not. Was her father still out there, for how much longer did she have to remain cloaked? Sam, Tommie, and Jacob would never let any harm come to her or the children, but Jenny was so weary of looking over her shoulder. Why she hadn't needed to leave their house on the honeymoon, why she preferred being at home for dinner, and she lost a few tears. "I've just holed up here like some kind of hostage. But I can't keep it all below forever. Look what happened to Mount St. Helens."

"Jenny Cope, I love you. You don't have to be afraid anymore."

He gave no details or evidence. Just as how Alvin had told her the same thing in her dream, Sam knew. Tommie and Max did as well, and in another day Jenny would too. That night, only her husband's assurance was necessary; she didn't have to be afraid anymore.

Jenny wept, then went to the nursery. Chelsea's bare mattress was an odd sight, but Will's sleeping form comforted. They needed to start easing him from the crib, Jenny unsure just where her two eldest children would go. But she didn't worry over her daughter's absence or that Will was alone. Sam said she didn't need to be afraid anymore.

On Thursday Jenny pondered that while baking bread. When it was done, they ate it fresh from the oven, slices spread with either butter or strawberry jam. Jenny and Rae had put up over four dozen jars, enough to last well into spring.

Jenny opened one, layering a thick coating over her bread. Chelsea was cranky, said her Auntie Rae snored louder than Will. She had enjoyed being with her aunt and cousin; Chelsea learned that Alana, Max, Steve, and Lexi were her cousins.

"Who told you that?" Jenny asked, taking a bite.

"Auntie Rae. She said Liz and Scott were my cousins too, just like Grandma says I have cousins down in LA."

Sam laughed. "LA?"

"Yeah," Chelsea said, jam smeared all over her mouth.

Jenny rolled her eyes, then reminded her daughter to lick around her face. "What else did Auntie Rae say?"

"That she loves me, Will too."

"Yes, she sure does."

"Yeah and she misses Uncle Tommie. A lot."

"He and Max will be home later today, probably for dinner," Jenny said. "But after all this bread and jam, I doubt we'll even be hungry."

"Auntie Rae said to come down there for dinner. She's making cobbler."

Both Jenny and Sam giggled. "Cobbler huh," Sam smiled.

"Yeah, cherry."

"Gonna be hyped up on sugar all day long." Jenny went for a rag, Chelsea's face still coated in jam. Will had eaten all his, only jam on his fingers.

"Chelsea, I think you need a bath. Will too. Shall I?" Sam asked his wife.

Jenny nodded. "You do that, I'm gonna clean up this mess."

Chelsea protested, having had a bath that morning, but soon both children were upstairs, leaving Jenny with a moment alone.

Chelsea and Will had several cousins, none by blood. Depending on what Tommie learned, there might be a few more. Jane would be thirty-six, Jess pushing forty. Had they married, did they have families? Jenny's children had nine cousins from the Baxters, another six here in Arkendale, more family than sometimes Jenny could count.

Heading to the stairs, she heard small squabbling, punctuated by splashes and Will's laughter; Chelsea didn't want her hair washed.

Reaching the bathroom doorway Jenny smiled. Will stood with a rag in his hand, cleaning the sides of the tub as Chelsea held a cloth to her eyes while Sam poured water over her head. She shook back and forth, spraying water everywhere, but Sam didn't flinch, and a few small tears streaked Jenny's face. She was sure her father had bathed her, Jess, and Jane at some point; why had he turned on them, becoming such a monster?

Jenny stepped to the toilet, taking small towels from the seat. Sam lifted Chelsea from the tub and Jenny enveloped her daughter, hearing a few complaints. That her hair didn't have jam in it, that really she was just fine.

For the rest of afternoon, Jenny sat under the green and gray throw, reading to her children. By five o'clock nothing had been heard from Tommie. Sam started grilled cheese sandwiches for the kids, and one for Jenny too.

The phone rang, it was Rae. The men were home and whenever Jenny wanted Tommie to come over was fine. Sam said after the kids were in bed, but Rae offered to keep the children with her, if Jenny was agreeable.

Sam set the phone on the counter, heading Jenny's way. "Honey, she wants to know when."

Jenny didn't turn. "Whenever. I imagine they're pretty tired."

Sam returned to the kitchen. "Rae, let me call you back."

He sliced the children's sandwiches, then set the kids' places. Jenny's dinner remained in the skillet and he turned the flame to low.

Gathering his son and daughter, Sam set them up, then stood in the doorway between the rooms. Jenny hadn't moved, only bringing the blanket around her.

"Honey, it's up to you. Rae'll watch the kids or we can wait until they're in B-E-D."

She nodded.

Sam removed the sandwich from the pan, then turned off the flame. The kids were busy with dinner and Sam returned to his spot. "Jenny?"

"Tell her to come get the kids. I don't want them here for this."

"Okay." Going to the phone, Sam stopped long enough to top up Chelsea's milk and ruffle his son's short hair. Then he dialed the Smith farm and gave Rae the news.

Chapter 27

At thirteen, Jenny Cope was sexually assaulted by her father, the third daughter to be so violated by that man. Jenny had lived the next twenty-one years of her life under the specter of that memory, and while she no longer consciously considered her father's actions, they remained within her, never forgotten.

What Tommie said first was that her parents, and her eldest sister, were dead. Jenny's father would never touch her, hurt her, come after her. Jenny had assumed her father might not be alive. That her mother and Jess were also deceased was a surprise.

Then came the revelation that Tommie had met with Jane. She had resided in Pueblo, forty-five minutes south of Colorado Springs, since Jenny ran away. Divorced, Jane lived with a boyfriend, but her maiden name was still listed in the Pueblo Yellow Pages. Hugh Freshcer had been correct; Jane Cope had never left the one town where she had found some solace.

Recalling the Freshcers, Jenny was shocked they still lived across the street, older people with no real tie to her past, how Jenny felt toward the couple. How they felt about her was very different.

Sam embraced her in the corner of the couch. Tommie had the other end, but wasn't far, grasping Jenny's hands. It was only those three, Rae and Max collecting the children. Max hadn't told his father about the abortion, Jenny finding nothing about it in Tommie's eyes. Tommie was quiet until Chelsea and Will were gone. Once the door was closed, he began to speak.

Jane didn't look much like the photograph Tommie had showed, claiming to be a friend of Jenny's, all he had said. Offering that picture of the Cope sisters, he paved the way for Jane's words, Tommie sharing that story first. "She was sure surprised you were alive, but then she seemed that way about herself too." Tommie sighed. "Here I was, bringing it all back up. Maybe she thought she'd never have to deal with it again."

"Does she have any kids? Did Jess?"

He shook his head. "Neither did, but she was glad to hear you had two little ones. I didn't tell her about the baby."

Sam nodded and Tommie continued. "Honey, that you were alive knocked her off her feet." He squeezed Jenny's hands. "She was really glad about that, I mean, she cried like a baby. Thank God her boyfriend was there; he seemed to know what in the hell had happened."

Jenny released a soft sigh. "What'd she say?"

Tommie inhaled, recounting their short conversation. Max had stayed in the car, Jane Cope unwilling to allow that young man's presence. Tommie hadn't needed to hear much, confirming what Hugh Freshcer had told him, and Tommie had Jane's address and phone number, if Jenny wanted them.

"Did she want me to contact her?"

"I don't think she would've given me all that if she didn't."

Later Tommie would tell Sam how thin the woman was, how her hands shook the entire time until the boyfriend, an older man named Craig, brought her a drink. Jane had downed it without hesitation, then it was refreshed. For the rest of their conversation, Jane's hands were steady.

Then she'd scrawled her telephone number and address. Tommie gave that paper to Jenny, having waited to present it upon her reaction.

She didn't shake, gazing at the small scrap. "Her handwriting looks sort of the same. Tommie, was she drunk?"

He caught Sam's eyes first, then his sister's. "Not in the beginning. Not at the end either, but she was getting there."

Jenny nodded.

After returning to Colorado Springs, Tommie and Max had eaten one last dinner at Charlie's. That night Tommie had called Rae, hearing Chelsea's voice in the background. "I was glad she wasn't alone," he admitted.

Jenny nodded, then twisted her fingers. "Tommie, what happened to Jess?"

Jane was an alcoholic, but that didn't surprise Jenny, who remembered her sister's method of coping. Jane had moved south when Jenny was fifteen and when she'd seen that sister, even that last time, once their father had left for his business trip, Jane had been tipsy. If it had been a few years later, Jenny imagined Jane would have been like Joni, getting stoned to forget everything. Jenny hadn't used those sorts of tonics, employing her body. What had Jess done, she wondered.

"Honey, four years ago she killed herself. She was living in Denver and all Hugh Freshcer knew was she and a boyfriend got in a fight and Jess shot herself. Jane couldn't talk about it, but Hugh had heard the details. I think he was keeping an eye on your sisters all those years."

"Not enough of one," Jenny huffed, leaning into Sam.

"Honey, he never came out and said it, but he and his wife, both of them, my God, the guilt on their faces."

Jenny nodded. Then she sat forward. "He say where she was buried, anything like that?"

"No. I assume in Denver somewhere. Said she moved up there for good after your parents were gone."

"Mmmhmm," Jenny mumbled. "Tommie, when did they die?"

A look passed over her head. Tommie had told Sam on Wednesday. Jenny had wanted to wait, but Sam knew, Sam, Tommie, and Max. Turning around, Jenny found Sam's eyes cool and wary. Then she saw the same in Tommie's. Detached brown eyes held closure, but it came at a price.

Always some price Jenny and her sisters had to pay for what their father had done. Jess was dead, Jane was a drunk, and Jenny had never felt so blessed for those who loved her. She clutched her baby. "Tommie, how did they die?"

"Honey, your mother shot him. She killed him, then herself."

When Jenny's father returned to find his youngest daughter missing, Edwin Cope's fury knew few bounds. Certain that his wife Wilma had spirited Jennifer away, Edwin silently fumed, his daughter Jess bearing the brunt. He hadn't touched that girl in years, meeting all his needs in Jennifer, why he had wanted to leave with her. Then no one would ever come between them, not his wife, nor his oldest daughter, whose continued presence had disarmed Edwin Cope since he had stopped sleeping with her after Jane turned twelve.

For three days Wilma was strangely quiet around her neighbors, and still no one had seen Jenny. Hugh Freshcer thought it odd how that family managed their affairs, what with Jess still at home, but Jane long gone. There were whispers of things not right, but until Jenny's absence, no one said anything overt. Once Edwin returned, voices loosened, rumors wafted, culminating on Friday, the twenty-first of June, when Jenny had been missing for nearly fourteen days.

When asked where they were on President Kennedy's death, most could give exact details. Hugh Freshcer only recalled he was teaching at Palmer High School. What he more vividly remembered were his whereabouts five months earlier as gunshots rang out in his own neighborhood.

Right across his street three shots exploded. Those came last. The argument between Edwin and Wilma Cope had been first.

"From what Hugh said, you weren't reported missing until the end of the second week, that when someone asked where you were, your mother said you'd gone to see Jane. But others had seen Jane leave, Jess too, that you were the only one at home, there with your mother."

Jenny nodded; her father had flown out on Sunday night, June ninth. On Monday morning Jenny had caught a Greyhound bus heading east, leaving her mother a note in a cookbook, the only message Jenny had left behind.

After seventeen years she recalled writing what her father had done to her, Jess, and Jane. That Jenny wouldn't go with him, that running away was all she could do to stay alive. Not necessarily sane, Jenny thought there in her house. Sam's face rested along hers, his hands on her. Jenny pressed against his palms, wishing he knew just how energetic their baby was.

Wilma Cope had never openly acknowledged her daughters' misery. Jenny sighed, then looked at Tommie. "Do you know if she saw the note?"

He nodded. "The Freshcers both said they'd spoken to Wilma once your father was at work that second week, asking if you really were with Jane. Your mother finally confessed she didn't know where you'd gone, and then they wanted to know why she hadn't reported you missing."

"Because she knew why," Jenny said without feeling.

"That's what they thought later. Either she'd known all along and could only then admit it, or she'd found your note."

"Or talked to Jess," Jenny added.

Tommie sighed. "Things were quiet and you never showed up, and then on Friday, the day they died, oh shit..."

"Just tell me." Jenny wanted to hold her breath, pretend it was some large pool into which she had to descend. If she stopped breathing, it would all be over.

Her baby wouldn't allow that and Jenny exhaled. "Tommie, please."

"Honey, Wilma found him with your sister."

"Oh good god!" Jenny cried.

"It wasn't consensual and Jess ran out of the house, heading to the Freschers. They called the police, but your front door was open, from when Jess fled, and everyone heard everything. Sarah was trying to console Jess but screams were coming from your house. Then, well, your mother shot him. She shot him twice, then herself. Hugh said it was _boom boom boom_ , no hesitation, no pause. He'd gone outside, waiting for the police, while they were still arguing, his wife staying with Jess. Then it got quiet, maybe a minute or two, not that long. Then those three shots. Once they stopped, Hugh went in, had to see."

Tommie moved toward Jenny, taking her in his arms. "He found them on the floor of the living room. Your note was near your mother's hand."

From the front door, Hugh Freshcer had seen bare feet, then a bloody torso. Two shots in the chest, but Edwin Cope wasn't dead when Hugh entered the house.

Wilma was, having shot herself in the mouth. Her body lay sprawled near the sofa, Jenny's note next to her mother's left hand. Once Hugh saw that, he returned to Jenny's father, dressed in tennis shorts and what had been a white polo shirt. Those bare feet reminded of what that man had been doing right before his wife came home.

Jenny's father gasped for air and Hugh knelt down, but didn't touch him. He heard sirens and while he wanted to leave a house that all had assumed was like every other on that street, instead Hugh bent close to Edwin's body. It was turning from a body into a corpse right in front of him.

Edwin Cope never said a word, staring into Hugh Freshcer's eyes. Then the look was vacant. Hugh didn't move until he heard voices approach, officers making their presence known. Hugh called out, said they were too late. They were all too late.

"Honey, it happened pretty fast. Hugh said your father didn't say anything."

Jenny remembered the floor plan; all the bedrooms were in the back, the living room cut in half by a wood floor leading to the back hall, the dining room and kitchen to the right. Going past those rooms, bedrooms lined the rest of the home. The parents' room was to the front, the girls' following, Jenny's in the furthest right corner. Her father had assaulted her there, the most distance between himself and his wife.

Edwin and Wilma Cope died in the front of the house and Jenny closed her eyes, trying to imagine her mother waving that note in his face. She had found it, but when? How many days had Jenny been gone, some or maybe all of them, and Jenny's mother only presented it after discovering her husband raping one of their children. Tommie relayed that Jess gave a full statement; her father had sexually abused her from when Jess was thirteen. For eight years, Edwin Cope had terrorized his offspring and no one on that street had known.

Both Hugh and Sarah still recalled Jess running to their door in nothing but a sheet and it had haunted Hugh's dreams for years, that and Jenny's disappearance. On that Friday in 1963, they all knew why. Edwin had been vocal about leaving his wife and when Jenny went missing, little bits came together. After June twenty-first, three broken, anguished girls had suffocated all who dwelled there. And Jenny had never returned.

After seventeen years, Hugh Freshcer had been so relieved she was alive. Tommie didn't reveal anymore than Jenny was safe, surrounded by people who loved her. Hugh and Sarah hadn't asked anything pointed, but in Sarah's deep tears, Tommie was grateful to put one ghost to rest. For that couple he had been successful. Looking at Jenny's ashen face, he wondered what had been presented to her.

"Honey, after that Jess moved to Denver. Hugh said sometimes he'd see her or Jane staring at the house. It was vacant for a long time, but finally someone bought it, that's when the porch was changed and the pine tree removed. They did all the alterations in the late sixties and it's changed hands a few times. Hugh said he and his wife were the last ones there who knew. Everyone else had died or moved away."

Jenny's breathing was steady and she hadn't cried. At several points she had gasped from great upheaval. Now she looked spent, but comfort rested within her eyes.

"Baby, you need anything?" Sam asked.

"I, I can't believe she killed him. She never acted like she could do anything against him. My god! I wonder if she knew?"

Jenny sounded young, but Tommie wasn't surprised. 1963 seemed a number of years away, but only because they sat in a new decade. "Honey, he's dead and can't hurt you ever again. Max and I went to the cemetery. They're not buried together; she's on one side, he's all the way on the other. I had to make sure and now I wished I'd brought a damned camera, but Jenny, I saw it, both of them."

"I just can't believe he's gone, that they've been dead all this time!"

As Jenny looked around the room, Tommie wondered what she saw. No ghosts, as her face wasn't fearful. Maybe it all seemed new, how she was when they returned right before Alvin's funeral. She moved from Sam, getting to her feet. Jenny didn't shake, but walked slowly around the back of the couch, looking up the stairs, then to her husband.

Then her gaze met Tommie's. "Honey, what is it?"

She took a breath, Sam joining her when she spoke. "Finally, after all this time, I'm free. He'll never hurt me or my kids." Her hands went to her baby, then to Sam, who took her in his arms. "Or you honey. He'll never hurt any of us again."

Chapter 28

On Friday morning Jenny woke to her husband beside her. Sam snored, his drones the only ones in the house.

Both Chelsea and Will had stayed with Tommie and Rae. Jenny didn't feel up to caring for her children, something she admitted after Tommie finished talking. She barely felt able to take in his news, crying in Sam's arms after making her declaration. Once she accepted her father's death, Jenny Cope Cassel broke down and bawled.

Tommie had stayed another hour, bringing her tea, helping Sam keep her upright, making sure she breathed smoothly. Once she was mostly calm, Tommie held her while Sam packed a few things for the kids. By the time Tommie left, Jenny had spoken a few words, thanking him for going there, telling him to kiss her babies for her. The last thing Tommie heard was Jenny telling her husband it was over. They were safe. No one was coming for them.

Jenny got up for the bathroom, Sam unmoving. She didn't bother with a robe; they had made love several times using few words, bodies relaying relief, affection, and ease. Sam, nearly as much as Jenny, was freed by Tommie's news. Once Tommie drove away, the couple came together there in the living room, a hurried release leading to more languid sessions all through the night. Jenny's libido returned at the end of August with no doubt to the reason. It had nothing to do with the gender of her baby, only in that her father was dead.

Returning to bed, she lay there as Sam slept, thinking of her sisters. Jess was dead too and Jane? She was as Jenny had been, numbing herself to keep that horror in the background. Jenny wasn't sure if she would contact her, perhaps best to let it be for a time, at least until the baby came. Jenny and Sam had celebrated more than her father's death. Since learning of their child, Jenny had known two short days of elation, then the mountain blew. Then an unbearable dread had descended. Now Jenny openly embraced her baby, her husband too. As if wary for them both, all fetters had been cast aside.

Jenny had forgotten how good Sam was to love and not having reached this far in their last pregnancy, how different it was making love with a small impediment. Not since Chelsea had Jenny known those limitations, but she didn't think of Alvin as Sam touched her. A husband and wife feted their unborn child as well as what had been thrown aside.

Jenny's father wouldn't come after her, could never hurt her again. For seventeen years that had lain in her head, and Sam had feared it too, an unspoken tremor that during the night was refuted. Jenny only felt the rapture of Sam's affections, no doubt or pessimism in the way.

She hadn't thought about that when she asked Tommie to keep the children. She just needed one night for herself and Sam, one morning to wake alone, as she had no idea how she would feel. She was sated, and exhausted, but only physically. Jenny's heart and mind were light and airy. There was no worry or anxiety, not even for her unborn child, and she wondered if Sam felt the same.

For the remainder of her pregnancy, Jenny wouldn't ponder this baby's fate. Whatever happened, Jenny would take it. She had accepted so much worse, and now the very worst would never occur. Her father would never appear, not harm her, Chelsea, or Will. Sam wouldn't lose her to an obsessive sexual predator, wouldn't see her die at the hands of an animal. Her father had attacked Jess one last time and Jenny was glad he was dead.

She wasn't sure how she felt about her mother, small relief that Wilma hadn't lived with the open knowledge of failing her daughters. Jenny supposed those last few minutes of her life were agony enough, finding her child being raped one more cross to bear. Jenny wouldn't give that woman much of her time. Wilma was gone, Jess was gone. Neither of them hurt anymore.

Sam stirred, but Jenny hadn't moved. She lay perfectly still, absorbing what she could of Tommie's news. There was so much to ponder, then Sam turned to her, his face red and weary.

He had wept too, mostly as they made love. Her face must look a fright, but Sam's wore years of spent anxiety. Both had been liberated, then Jenny wondered; did he still worry about the baby?

"How long you been up?" His voice was slow.

She stroked his beard. "Maybe twenty minutes. How are you?"

"Fine. I'm fine baby. How're you?"

She wanted to tell him all she had considered, but first she needed to know. "Sam, it's all gone, everything I've ever been afraid of. Just like Tommie came through with a huge broom and swept my head clear."

"Oh God honey, that's fantastic!"

"I know, I know it is." It was wonderful and Jenny felt it all through, but especially where her baby rested. "Sam, I want you to be honest with me. I know this baby's gonna be fine and I just wanna know if you, I mean..."

His smile was hesitant. Then it shone through his bearded face, and then that face moved to her belly. "All I can do is give thanks for this day."

The way he gave those thanks made Jenny shudder. Before he even got out of bed, Sam Cassel showed his wife how much he loved her.

Jenny took the first bath, Sam the second. She was cooking eggs and pancakes when he came down, moving slowly.

"You gonna be all right?" she smiled.

"My God, I haven't ached like this since..."

She laughed. "Yeah?"

"Since our honeymoon." He sat where utensils waited for him. "Jenny, is that why you didn't wanna go to Eugene?"

She turned off the flame, taking the last eggs from the pan. Pancakes were cooking, but had just been flipped. "Maybe. I never thought about it, but probably. I never went anywhere except to get away. Here I never wanted to leave, but maybe there was more to it."

She brought him a plate, then made her own. They said little, holding each other's hands. Sam asked when the children should come home and Jenny said as soon as he was ready to collect them.

They laughed over nothing to do with all that had been said yesterday. Not that it had been washed away, but in the lightness of their newly relieved hearts, there were other things to acknowledge, and it wasn't until the phone rang that their eyes left the other's face. Sam jumped at the sound and answered it. "Hello?"

Jenny swirled her last bite of pancake in syrup. She wasn't paying attention to Sam's words, instead thinking of her children, who would never be touched by the evil that was her father. Chelsea and Will were safe from that monster.

"Okay Tommie. Yeah. Thanks for calling." Sam returned to the table and once Jenny finished her last bite, he grasped her hands.

"What?" she asked, seeing surprise on his face.

"That was Tommie. Harold Carmine's dead."

Together Sam and Jenny went to the Smiths. Harold Carmine had a heart attack in his sleep, Bonnie waking to her deceased husband that morning. Ray Gardner had called Tommie himself, he and his wife Ann witnessing the ambulance's arrival, Bonnie a disheveled mess still in her robe. Mildred Winchester, the Carmines' other neighbor, had held Bonnie's hand, but Ray and Ann remained on their driveway, observing their long time nemesis' frozen stance. Bonnie didn't believe her husband was dead.

Rae seemed glad there was something else to discuss. Pervasive relief flooded her gray eyes, looking very much like Sam's, but in Rae's, angst remained. Sam carried none, not for Jenny or the kids, or their baby. At least not that day, Jenny accepted.

In speaking of Bonnie and Harold, Jenny could be in the same room as Rae, give her a hug. The men were aware of that accord and during the next hour and a half the Cassels chatted with the Smiths about the Carmines, ending with another thirty minutes about the next day's barbecue. Rae and Steve had that in hand and after Tommie excused himself to the bathroom, Rae revealed a surprise; Lexi was coming. She had gone back for school before her father left, but wanted to attend the party. Tommie emerged to a bevy of whispers and not much else.

As they readied to leave, Rae pulled Jenny close. "Honey, I love you. There's nothing to worry about anymore."

Jenny received a quick kiss on her cheek, then she looked at Rae's face, her usual edgy countenance laced with ease. Jenny squeezed Rae's hands, then went to the Honda, where Sam and the children waited. Jenny got in the front seat, buckling in for the short ride. She waved at Rae, who was held close to Tommie, as Sam headed down the driveway.

"You think anyone will go to Harold's funeral?" Jenny asked her husband.

It was late, the children bathed and sleeping. "Well, if I was a betting man," Sam smiled. "God honey, other than Mildred Winchester, who else'd go?"

They lay in bed, but hadn't made love, both still sore from last night, yet, Jenny couldn't be away from him. "I bet Sylvia and Keith will. I bet you a dollar."

Sam chuckled. "What, you talk to her already?"

"No, but they always do the right thing."

"They sure did by getting you here."

"Yeah, they sure did."

They held each other while falling asleep, taking in such restful slumber that Jenny woke the next morning still enveloped in Sam's arms.

On Saturday, the thirtieth of August, Jenny's family only needed to arrive at the Smiths', but she started a batch of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies to surprise Tommie. Grant came early, had heard about Mr. Carmine, and brought news that Bonnie had broken down after the ambulance left and had spent the night at Mildred Winchester's. The Schumachers weren't friends of the Carmines, but Grant hadn't missed the talk at his house. His parents were sorry for Harold's demise, but there was no love lost for Bonnie.

Standing near the barn, Grant's words emerged as Alvin's had, without premeditation or guile. Bonnie had insinuated that Grant got what was coming to him, driving like a maniac and getting stoned all the time. Grant said those words as if talking about another person, which made Sam wince. Yet Grant wasn't bothered; shit happens, he smiled. Then he went to collect the eggs.

Sam decided if Keith and Sylvia Baxter did attend Harold Carmine's funeral, they should be made saints. When he returned to the house, the smell of chocolate hovered, as did the clamoring of small children, both begging for a cookie.

"Not until after lunch." Sam collected his son, helping Chelsea to her chair. "Have you two been pestering your mama all this time?"

"All this time," Jenny giggled.

"Not _all_ this time," Chelsea said. "Is Grant still here?"

Sam sat beside Will, tickling that boy. "He is. Should be back in a minute with the eggs."

"I'll help!" Chelsea said.

"You're gonna sit right there and wait for lunch, okay?"

"Okay Daddy."

"Okay." Sam smiled and received one in return. Their lives were the same as before Tommie and Max had come home, but so different, and Sam didn't know how to describe it. Lighter, freer, but something else; the scepter of death had been removed. Immediate death, surprise death. Bloody, violent death no longer hung over Sam Cassel or his family. Death had occurred at Bonnie and Harold's, but not at Sam's domain.

Grant knocked and Jenny let him in. They sorted the eggs; when Grant was done for the day, he would take two dozen home to his parents. One carton would stay at Angus and Elaine's, the other going to Eric and his wife Paula. Sam asked if Grant needed a ride, but he shook his head. His dad was coming for him later.

"Grant, can you push me on the swing?" Chelsea asked.

"Chelsea..." Jenny sighed.

Sam laughed as Chelsea looked to the floor, Grant smiling as if they had hired him for only the chickens and children.

"Swing!" Will cried, wiggling in his high chair.

Kissing his wife, Sam led his children and a man just like one from the kitchen.

Only twice since New Year's Eve 1977 had dancing occurred at Tommie's, but that very evening Sam spun with his wife, Alana and Lexi, Liz and Debbie, then back to Jenny. Sam felt like Prince Charming. He had held Cinderella for over a year, but Jenny would never disappear. She was his for life, no one in their way.

Fred Hooper hadn't been invited and Sam was glad he'd not had the nerve to appear. Only close family and some of the kids' friends were in attendance. Lexi and Ricky's arrival brought tears to Tommie's eyes and while Lexi would return to Eugene the next day, that night was a reunion of sorts. The Baxters spoke to Rae, and Sam now owed his wife a dollar; Keith and Sylvia were going to Harold Carmine's funeral.

It would be on Thursday, Keith said. Then he had pulled Sam aside; did Sam want those three chapters back?

Keith didn't need an answer that night, for which Sam was grateful, what with so many things to appreciate. In between dancing with his wife, which he noted to Jenny was their first time as a married couple, then dancing with just about everyone else, Sam pondered those three chapters that had no ending, for he'd burned the rest to ash.

That ash had been different from what still floated through the sky. Bits here and there were seen all over town, Sam unsure if those pages Keith possessed shouldn't just go straight into the garbage. Sam wouldn't burn them, too much already flying through the air. They could be crumpled, one by one, then tossed in a can.

With Jenny in his arms, Sam needed nothing else. He had written about her, and a child they had made, but after their baby died, Sam couldn't stomach putting down another word. Now Jenny again held his baby, but only that. All her previous worries were gone.

It was late, but the children were still awake. Rae and Sylvia tended to Will while Alana and Liz fussed over Chelsea. Alvin's offspring were being raised in a family so different than what Sam or Jenny or even Alvin had known. His father had died when Alvin was a boy, and other than Tommie's parents Mitch and Alva, only Bonnie and Harold had supported Betsy. Now Harold was dead and if Sam could muster some charitable thoughts toward Bonnie Carmine, he would do it. His world was coming back together, no need to be stingy. Yet that woman had brought so much upon herself, and Sam couldn't, he just couldn't.

Instead he kissed his wife, pulling her close. They whirled around the yard to Elton John and Joni Mitchell, The Spinners and The Temptations, James Taylor, The Supremes, and Creedence Clearwater Revival. Nothing modern was played with Tommie at the helm.

Sam held Jenny's hand, kissing her face, so lost in the wonder of his life that he ignored the headlights approaching the driveway. With so many cars, it wasn't hard to miss one more, people parking down the drive, a few vehicles along the road. Sam only heard his wife's smooth breathing, then his hand was placed along her belly.

"You feel that?" Jenny asked.

He shook his head. "No honey. In another week or two."

"You sure?"

He pulled away from her. Jenny's face was earnest. Spreading his fingers all along the rise of her stomach, Sam closed his eyes.

He had heard the heartbeat twice now, fast and swift. As he was ready to move away, small, lively motions brought Sam to tears. "Jesus Christ, there is it! I can't believe it!"

He was lost to his surroundings, but everyone else thought he was reacting to the unexpected visitor crashing their party. Not Fred Hooper or anyone they might anticipate. Instead Bonnie Carmine stood in the middle of Tommie Smith's front lawn.

Sam looked up to equally stunned faces. "Hey everyone, I can feel the baby!"

Jenny hadn't heard Bonnie's words either, which weren't about the child Jenny carried, but the other two in loving arms. Jenny stared at Sam first, then to Tommie, who shook in disbelief.

"What?" Jenny laughed.

"My grandchildren," Bonnie announced. "I want to see my grandchildren!"

"What grandchildren?" Rae huffed.

Bonnie pointed to Chelsea and Will. "My grandchildren! Alvin was _my_ son and those are _my_ grandchildren!"

Chapter 29

Three people knew Bonnie's assertions weren't the grief-stricken ravings of a normally composed, tightly held woman. Sam, Jenny, and Tommie stared at each other, then took quick glances at Chelsea and Will. The rest eyed Bonnie Carmine, jaws slack or hitting the ground.

"Your grandchildren?" Rae boomed. "Bonnie, what in the hell are you talking about?"

Sam and Tommie moved toward the aching gray-haired widow, dressed in a navy pantsuit, one of the only times Jenny had ever seen Bonnie in slacks. Bonnie kept herself attired like older times, not at all modern like Sylvia Baxter. Sort of the antitheses of Sylvia, who grasped Will in her arms.

Jenny inhaled the entire moment. She had pondered that her father might be dead, but never had she dreamed that Bonnie would divulge this. What good could possibly come of Bonnie revealing what Jenny had known since the day after Alvin died; that Bonnie was his mother, not Betsy Harris. Alfred and Betsy had tacitly assumed possession of a tiny baby boy just hours after he was born. Once giving birth, Bonnie had never been Alvin's mother.

"Bonnie, let's talk about this somewhere quiet."

Tommie's voice was even, how he'd spoken to Jenny about her father, about Alvin, about Fred Hooper and going from Mr. Hot Shot baseball player to the bottom of the barrel. About loving his wife and losing their baby, an ease Tommie employed more than he needed to. Here it was again.

"Tommie Smith, those are my grandchildren and I want to see them. They're all I have left!"

Rae marched forward, but Max pulled her aside. Rae seethed a molten fury; for every smooth word Tommie offered, his wife held one equally vicious, waiting to spring.

"What in the hell are you talking about?" Jacob said, coming toward his brother.

All eyes were on her; could she not see it, Jenny wondered, standing alone but feeling no fear. Her father was dead and if Bonnie wanted this as common knowledge, Jenny wouldn't get in the way.

"Alvin was my boy. And now, now..."

"Alvin was Betsy and Alfred's son!" Rae yelled, pointing her finger.

Admission covered Sam's face and Jenny nodded in agreement, then stepped to where Tommie guarded Bonnie while Max restrained his mother. "Bonnie's right. Alvin was her son."

No lights shone, but dozens of wide eyes illuminated the darkness. Jenny wouldn't elaborate further until Bonnie spoke.

The children had been taken inside, but Jenny had seen her daughter's curious face. Her grandma was Sylvia, all Chelsea knew. Jenny looked at Rae, then to the Baxters. Then her gaze found Bonnie Carmine.

It had been over two years since they had spoken in Rae and Tommie's dining room. Jenny had to have an abortion, Bonnie stated bluntly. Alvin hadn't hurt his head in that fall, he was born that way, _born retarded_ , those words enunciated with so much revulsion they carried straight into Jenny's soul. She needed to have an abortion because Alvin had been born retarded.

Then: why, how? How did Bonnie know and what business was it of hers to come to Jenny with such abominable news?

Because I'm his mother, Bonnie had offered in that same disgusted tone. He was my child, I gave him to Betsy. We all knew, Betsy, Alfred, and myself. We knew and now you know. And you need to get rid of it.

Those words clamored in Jenny's head as had her father's voice telling her to be quiet, say nothing: _Go to sleep Jennifer._ The litanies seemed ageless, yet her father was no more.

Jenny took a deep breath. Alvin's mother, his real mother, had never cared about him, barely provided him a decent living, thought nothing of stripping from him all she could take. Now she wanted to lay claim to Alvin's children, Jenny and Sam's children, and Jenny approached Bonnie. Jenny's father was gone and Alvin was too; there was nothing more to hide.

"Bonnie, let's talk about this in private."

Jenny's tone was like her brother's and she reached for his broken hand, feeling the smallest movements from wrecked fingers.

"I want my grandchildren Jenny."

"Bonnie, please, not here. Not tonight."

Jenny moved to the side, Bonnie's gaze now to those in front of her. If she had come seeking only Chelsea and Will, her blue-gray eyes took in the still stunned crowd, mostly young people with no mind to keep something like this to themselves. Keith and Sylvia would be discreet, but teenagers wouldn't.

Bonnie began to sway. Sam ran around his wife, catching Bonnie before she landed on the ground. "Let's get her in the..."

"Barn," Tommie said.

"Right," Sam sighed.

With Jenny behind them, they carried the older woman's sagging frame, leaving a yard full of astounded voices, all wondering what in the hell had gotten into Bonnie Carmine?

Rae made her usual slow way to where shouts emanated from a woman Rae detested since Jenny settled in Arkendale. Rae needed to hear in Bonnie's own words this asinine idea that Alvin was her son. Bonnie must have snapped; no woman would treat her own child so atrociously, demand Jenny have an abortion, then have the unmitigated gall to march into a private party, throwing lies into all ears. And Chelsea had heard it! Chelsea had heard what was said.

"He's gone Bonnie, but that doesn't give you the right to come here and start demanding..."

Tommie's voice wasn't smooth like before, but Rae knew he wasn't close to getting started.

"They are my flesh and blood and I'll do whatever it takes to..."

"You will not have a single thing to do with my kids!"

That wasn't Jenny but Sam, and Rae nearly stumbled. Max propped her up as they reached the structure together.

"Chelsea and Will are mine and Jenny's, and you have no legal claim to them whatsoever. You practically made Alvin beg for scraps and there's no way in hell I'll let you even lay one finger on my children!"

From the barn's entryway, Rae noted Sam's raised fist and furious gray eyes. Jenny's bastard of a father might be dead, but Sam would never forget what happened to her, or to Tracy.

"Your children?" Bonnie huffed, hands on her hips.

Rae wanted to slap Bonnie cold. What in the world made her think she was Alvin's mother? As Rae took one step forward, her son gripped her shoulder.

"Mom, don't," Max whispered.

Rae fumed, but didn't move, as Sam pointed straight at Bonnie. "Yes, my children. And I swear if you even think about trying to insinuate yourself into Chelsea and Will's lives I'll..."

"You'll what Sam?"

Those words were followed by a heady laugh, how Rae knew Bonnie had lost her mind. Yes, she had just lost her husband, but now she was certifiable. As Max again squeezed Rae's shoulder, she clutched his lame hand, gritting her teeth in the process.

"Bonnie, it's over. Alvin's gone, Harold's gone. Yes, you're alone, but you gave Alvin up the day he was born, and every day since. Maybe it was for the best, maybe you never meant to hurt him. But the last thing he would've wanted was for either of his children to be within your sight, and as Sam said, they're our kids and there's no way you'll ever be allowed to see them, at least not while either Sam or I are living."

Jenny's words fell into Rae's ears in a voice so much like Tommie's that Rae understood why they thought of each other as siblings. For a few seconds jealousy reared in Rae's head. Then it was what Jenny said: _...you gave Alvin up the day he was born, and every day since._ My God, this was true!

Rae squinted, tears falling. She ignored them, concentrating on Jenny's unruffled face. Sam's was fiery, but Jenny fully accepted what Bonnie claimed, yet didn't permit her one inch. Jenny had never allowed Bonnie any of her time, not before and certainly not now.

Jenny wasn't afraid. She held her husband's hand and for how Jenny had complimented Alvin, Rae saw something else with Sam; Jenny was whole. Their baby wasn't obvious, then it was as Jenny placed her other hand on her small belly. With Bonnie Carmine, Jenny wouldn't budge.

"They're, they're..."

"Not yours Bonnie. They never have been."

Tommie's voice hit Rae square in her guts, staring at a woman realizing a similar truth. Maybe Bonnie was Alvin's biological mother, maybe, Rae would allow, but he'd been no more than a stone around her neck. A boulder bruised Rae's heart, but her son's hand kept her from falling.

"Mom, you okay?" Max murmured.

A weight on Rae's chest moved about. She nodded, then shook her head. "Help me back to the house."

She turned to a tall young man who looked mostly like his father and brother, but with her gray eyes. Now one gazed at her. "C'mon Mom, it's okay."

His voice wasn't a whisper and as Rae gave one last look to the quartet in the barn, Tommie's eyes caught hers. He mouthed _I love you_ and Rae nodded, that rocky, painful burden falling away as she stepped toward the house.

As Rae passed her daughters and other son, she glimpsed Chelsea and Will in the care of family they trusted and loved. With that assurance, Rae bid goodnight to all, then went to her room, the door shut with closure. No one saw any more of her that night.

Sylvia kissed Chelsea's cheek, then squeezed her husband's hand. "I'll be back," she told Keith and the rest, still in stunned amazement. She left the house, walking to Tommie's barn where voices were noted, a small light shining from the top of the structure.

"Let me drive you home Bonnie," Tommie said.

"I want to see my grandchildren!"

Sylvia heard that over and over, as if it was all Bonnie could say.

"No damnit! I've had enough of this shit. I'm calling the sheriff."

Sam stomped out, nearly running into Sylvia. "Jesus Christ! I'm sorry," he said, stopping where she stood.

"Sam, don't call anyone. Let me see what I can do."

The look on his face spoke of painful memories, but Sylvia didn't know about Sam's past. She didn't wonder about it either, only wishing this night to be diffused without further rancor.

"Sylvia, she's nuts! I mean," he sighed. "She's not nuts, we've known this. But there's no way in hell she's gonna..."

"Sam, let me have a minute."

"Good fucking luck," he muttered.

She left him with a small smile on her face. She'd only had daughters, but Keith swore on occasion, something men did when they were frustrated. As Sylvia entered the barn, Bonnie repeated her demands; Sylvia imagined Bonnie had never requested anything in her life.

"Tommie, Jenny, can we have a minute alone, just us older ladies?"

Jenny nodded, but Tommie looked wary. Another man, protective and worried. Sylvia gave another small grin, then stepped to where Bonnie stood.

That face was implacable, Bonnie's usual mood. They were of a similar age, Bonnie a little older, but within the same generation, one so different than what these younger people knew, even Tommie. He was over forty, but to Sylvia, he was still Mitch and Alva's boy, was going to be a ball player. "Tommie, just a minute. It won't take long."

"I'll be right outside." His voice was directed at the angry, bitter woman clenching her fists.

"Good. I'll holler if I need anything."

He moved away slowly, joining Sam in the middle of the lawn, Jenny having gone inside where the children waited. Sylvia understood that young woman's mind as she did those of the men who loved Jenny. Then she looked at Bonnie's pinched, aching face. Sylvia struggled, then found within her heart some small space that accepted even this human being.

Family knew Bonnie and Harold had cheated Alvin of what was rightfully his. Alfred had been dead for years but Sylvia recalled Betsy as a sweet woman, not hardened, only easily led. Alfred's death had nearly broken her, but four children needed their mother, and with Alvin not the most capable eldest son, Betsy had turned to the Carmines. Those women had been from the same town, on the eastern edge of Oregon. Bonnie and Harold had moved to Arkendale when Alvin was little and now some things were clear.

Yet Sylvia never would have guessed this woman could have produced such a loving, good-hearted man, slow but so much his mother, his real mother. Alvin was Betsy Harris all over, the other children not at all like their parents. Sylvia smiled, wondering if that wasn't just how things turned out. The one child not truly of Alfred and Betsy was the most like them.

"Bonnie, let Keith and I drive you to Mildred's. We're just about to leave."

"I am going to see those children!"

Sylvia moved close, wishing to take one of Bonnie's hands, both gripped in tight fists. "It's late and you need some sleep. Those children are already in bed and that's where you should be too."

"They're mine Sylvia, not yours!"

"They belong to Sam and Jenny and all with whom they share them. That's just how it is."

Bonnie's fury abated for a moment, then she stalked around the barn, her hands still clenched. "He was my son, Sylvia. I may not have raised him, but Alvin was my son!"

"Well that's fine, but Alvin's gone, and it does you no good to come make a scene. Only makes Sam more reactive. He's those children's legal father and it's up to him and Jenny..."

"They should have no say, no right! Alvin should've never..."

Sylvia sighed. "Bonnie, it's over. Let Keith and I take you to Mildred's and..."

"You, Sylvia Baxter, you brought that bitch here! You brought her here and let her move in with my son and now he's dead and all I have left are those children!"

Bonnie had marched right up to Sylvia's face. But Sylvia didn't flinch.

"You never gave that boy the time of day. Jenny was the best thing that ever happened to Alvin and the last thought he had was for her and those children. He knew about Will and the very next day all you wanted was for that little boy to be aborted."

Shock rang in Bonnie's eyes, but Sylvia didn't stop. "Yes, we know about that. And by tomorrow morning everyone in this town's going to know that you wanted nothing to do with him until the only one who _would_ put up with you was dead. Now, do you want a ride to Mildred's or not?"

The women were the same height, but Bonnie looked shrunken. She seemed to have something to say, but only stammered.

"Well?" Sylvia asked again.

"This isn't over. I'll talk to my lawyer in Salem and I will see those children!" Bonnie Carmine turned to leave, then offered Sylvia one last irate stare.

Sylvia watched her storm through the yard, coming close to Sam and Tommie, but saying nothing. Then Sylvia joined those men and all three held hands as Bonnie got in her car and charged back to town.

Chapter 30

Mount St. Helens, the hostages in Iran, and the looming presidential election were shoved off the map as Arkendale shuddered with the previously unknown, never considered idea that Bonnie Carmine was Alvin Harris' mother. Alana and Scott began their senior year of high school with that news, Scott on the football team, Alana busy with her studies. Leaving school, Alana swore she saw Bonnie in her Lincoln Continental. With Scott at practice most afternoons, Max or Steve collected their sister, but Bonnie never followed them home.

Sam had visited Jeff Wheeler on Monday, the first of September. Bonnie had no legal justification upon which to stand. She wasn't any more to Chelsea and Will than Sam had been before the adoption and as their legal father, Sam could take whatever measures necessary to protect his family. After all the worry about Jenny's father, it was slightly amusing that Bonnie would provoke Sam to such turmoil, but other than occasionally stalking Alana outside the high school, Bonnie made no further moves toward any of the Smith and Cassel residences.

Sam did receive a one-dollar bill from Jenny when the Baxters skipped Harold Carmine's services. Jeff Wheeler heard nothing from Bonnie's attorney in Salem; as far as the family was concerned, Bonnie had simply lost her usually coiled mind and was suffering in the worst way. Not only was she alone, now she was exposed.

Jenny felt some sympathy, a few weeks having passed and nothing more occurring. Chelsea had asked why that woman had come to the party, but it had made no lasting impression on either child. Bonnie had provided the most tantalizing gossip Arkendale had ever known, and while still pondering her own revelations, Jenny was glad no one cared a whit about her.

Sam's thirty-seventh birthday was a quiet affair at Jacob and Debbie's. Sam hadn't wanted any gifts, claiming no one could beat what his wife had presented him, the couple's baby now felt by everyone. At nearly five months along, Jenny wore one of Sam's work shirts buttoned until her belly protruded.

But a package was set into Sam's hands as Keith returned those three chapters. Sam nodded, then went for a drink. Only soda was served at Jacob's house; Sam would have loved a beer, but he drank Squirt, then walked the Baxters to their car. Giving Sylvia a kiss, Sam again thanked her for the cool head. Then he smiled at Keith, waving goodnight.

Driving home, Sam and Jenny spoke quietly, the children asleep. Sam held his wife's hand atop the gear shift, darkness concealing his writing, stuck in the back hatch.

Reaching their house, roses shined in the headlights, yellow ribbons tied to each bush. While the rest of Arkendale rippled with Bonnie's outburst, Sam wanted it forgotten. It had returned him to when Jenny first spoke of it, Tommie also staggered by the idea of Bonnie as Alvin's mother. He looked nothing like her and between the adults it was discussed that he must have taken after his father. Who that was Bonnie hadn't said, not to Jenny in the Smith dining room, nor at the party. Some anonymous man had given Alvin his height and blonde hair, those large, open eyes and loving smile. Bonnie shared none of those attributes with her son.

Then the talk had moved to the Carmines themselves. Bonnie never had any other children, perhaps Harold had been sterile. Why they had treated Alvin so badly after Betsy's death was a mystery, as well as why at Harold's death Bonnie had snapped. Now she was a recluse; except for pestering Alana, no one saw hide or hair of her. Ray and Ann Gardner said Mildred Winchester did all of Bonnie's shopping, which didn't surprise any of them. A private person, Bonnie had carried a huge secret. Now she was a pariah.

Jenny toted Will as Sam lugged Chelsea through the front door. These children were genetically related to a guarded, selfish woman, yet her son hadn't taken any of her traits, and Jenny didn't think her offspring would inherit Bonnie's lesser qualities. Jenny wasn't sure if Bonnie had any favorable characteristics, but at least she had been smart enough to give Alvin to loving parents who provided him with a stable, secure home. The rest of the Harris children might have fallen away, but Alvin had been a constant. Until, Jenny sighed, setting her son in his crib, he fell from a tree.

In bed that night, as they had for the last two weeks, Jenny lay naked with her husband. Sam's hands were all over her, always returning to their baby, wiggly and visible. Jenny wasn't sure if it was a boy or a girl and Sam didn't care. Even with Bonnie's ruckus, no one would impede upon their happy home. This family was one of joy and love. For all that had come before, the end result was a home based in peace.

In October, Sam started typing again, then made other noises. He wanted to move Will and Chelsea upstairs.

"I'll be there with them in the mornings," he began, his tone one of conviction and of wishing to convince.

"It's just so far," Jenny sighed. "We haven't even started getting Will out of the crib."

The move was necessary, no room for another child in the nursery. If they started now, by the middle-end of January when the baby was due, both Chelsea and Will would be used to it. The room Alvin had used was larger than the nursery, two twin beds fitting easily alongside dressers.

Jenny gave a grudging okay and both children were initially thrilled with the change. After the third night, Will cried and Chelsea wouldn't stay in bed. Even with Sam's presence it was difficult, but by the end of the month, Chelsea and Will had been accepting, tears and a few tantrums in the process.

Having battled that small skirmish, another project loomed. While baby blankets waited in the nursery, Jenny couldn't explain the idea of weeks to her children, so a chart was made, days ticked off while others in Jenny's family looked for answers.

Max hadn't spoken to his father in Colorado about the abortion. While the children napped, Jenny gently prodded, but Max wanted to keep his secret. He wasn't ashamed he said, only that it was over a year ago, his and Liz's private business. Jenny said nothing more, but noted uncertainty in his one eye. She also saw more movement in his right arm, but he ignored that too, offering pensive sighs, wishing they had remained in Eugene. Bored by small town life, Max said as long as Liz was happy here, he would stay.

Jenny and Max also spoke of Rae and the noticeable changes she had incorporated since the party. She seemed happier, Max looking around, making sure no one heard him. Jenny agreed; maybe something about Bonnie and Alvin had hit a nerve.

Concerning the coming elections, Max had no patience for President Carter. The hostages had been held for nearly a year and Max was sure if Ronald Reagan was elected, no way would the Iranian government wait to deal with that man. Too progressive to vote for Reagan, Jenny had smiled, but those fifty men and two women still preyed on her mind. She and Max chatted about other news, then Max cleared his throat. "Jenny, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

Sitting at the kitchen table, Max took off his patch. "I can hide this eye pretty well."

She gazed at the useless iris and huge black pupil. Max's eye was a mess, but Jenny looked right at him.

He set the patch back, then put his good hand around his bad arm. "I wanna cut it off."

"Oh Max! Why?"

"'Cause it hangs there with no purpose. Can't just throw a patch over it and I'm sick of waiting. Nothing's gonna change, nothing's gonna happen."

"Max, I've seen it move. Honey, if you amputate it..."

"Jenny, I'd rather live with one arm than this useless piece of shit."

His anger was plain; he wanted change and while a new president was probably in the cards, life in Arkendale wasn't what Max had planned. "Honey, if you do that, there's no going back."

"Jenny, the nerves are shot. There's nothing they can do."

She stood, setting that lifeless hand on her baby. "I never wanted kids, not before I came here, and while I never would've had a hysterectomy, if there had been a cheap way to get myself sterilized, I'd have done it. At your age, I was certain the last thing I would ever want or need was a baby."

Jenny felt small movements, wondered if Max noted them too. His good eye watered, but he remained stoic.

"Please honey, give it more time, another year at least. There's no rush. If you take such drastic measures, you'll never know."

Max sighed, then wiped his face with his good hand. Then he placed it on the baby, finding more than flutters, definite motion. With all his conscious strength, he tried to sense something with a hand that no longer moved on its own. He wished for a sign, but none emerged.

"Jenny, I don't think waiting another year is gonna matter."

"For me, Max, please? Will you wait for me?"

If he hadn't known her past, Max wouldn't have nodded. She had waited four years before leaving home, spending another twelve on the road. Only because Max Smith knew Jenny's history did he promise not to touch that bad arm.

On Wednesday, the fifth of November, Jenny and Sam woke to the news that an actor and former California governor would be their next president. Neither had voted for him, but in that small town they were a minority as Ronald Reagan was swept into office. Jenny hoped the next event would be the hostages' release, but that wasn't forthcoming.

They were disappointed with the outcome of the election, but not surprised. Carter had been in a poor position since the hostages had been taken and the ensuing twelve months had only piled onto a man who seemed powerless to render change. Not the change Jenny wanted and while she had voted for him, unresolved issues remained close to her heart, those of women's equality and gay rights. Robert Tucker called her later that morning in a foul mood. With Reagan in charge, homosexuals were looking at a bleak landscape when it came to attaining equal status.

And still the hostages didn't return. Jenny's yellow ribbons faded and she replaced them, wishing to take them down. She would burn them once this was over. It had to be over someday.

Her bleak mood was countered by her baby, which was now large and somewhat heavy. She went back and forth over the gender, one day sure it was the boy Sam still preferred, then sometimes it felt like a girl. Jenny wasn't to the point where she only wanted it _out_ , still two months to wait. She did wish to share her child with her husband. Sam was back to writing, and again, wasn't showing her a page.

In the mornings Jenny woke alone, taking in the sound of the electric typewriter, sometimes finding children next to her. Sam would tote them down, setting Chelsea on the edge, Will in the middle. Jenny recalled moments spent with only her infant daughter, Alvin on the other side. Now it was two children and their father was the man upstairs, making noise with a machine Alvin would have never gone near. Once Jenny made movements, Sam was down the stairs, and she wondered how he heard her, yet he always did. Then it was all four of them in bed, soon to be five. The baby was all Chelsea and Will noticed.

"Mama, you're so big!" Chelsea said.

"Baby come out?" Will asked.

"Mama, it is a boy or a girl?"

"Baby out now?"

On and on it went, Jenny and Sam wrapping all their children under the cream and black blanket Sam had wanted. Jenny had worked on it over the summer, completing it right after the election, her fingers flying to finish it before Will's impending birthday. Thanksgiving would be celebrated at the Smiths', followed by Christmas, also at Tommie's. If Jenny hadn't been so large, she would have hosted Christmas Eve, but all she wanted now was to take it easy. That and the hostages to be freed.

By Will's second birthday, still not a single person had been released. Rumors persisted that perhaps the Iranians were waiting until Reagan was inaugurated, that while Carter was still in charge, they didn't fear reprisal. Reagan hadn't minced words that once he was in office, policies would be enacted with force. Jenny wasn't sure if she liked that sound, but she didn't want those people to wait. Then it hit her while baking Will's cake. She didn't want to have her baby until they came home.

Not that it was up to her. Jenny's child would arrive in its own good time and as for the hostages, their fate was held between two governments, one so unwilling to bend, the other ineffective and neutered. Like Max's arm and Jenny shuddered.

She mixed cake batter, poured it into pans, then set them in the oven. Her sink was littered with measuring cups and spoons, still her tendency to use things for a defined purpose. It would be within her forever, too hard to change those sorts of ideas. So many other parts of her had surrendered, but Jenny had no illusions. Ayatollah Khomeini seemed perfectly happy to restrain Americans against their will, just as her father had done to Jenny.

Just as Bonnie had done to Alvin, building a mountain of money far more important than providing her son a decent wage and equipment to run the farm. Jenny remembered so many instances Bonnie could have improved things for him, her own son! Smelling Will's chocolate cake, Jenny shed tears, pondering hostages, her own years in captivity, and that Alvin's real mother had shunned him all that time.

That evening, Jenny said nothing about Max wanting to amputate his arm, but everything else tumbled forth. Once she was quiet, Sam told her how much he loved her, caressing their baby in the process. They had celebrated Will's second birthday with all their family and other than the upcoming holidays, all that remained was their baby.

Jenny fell asleep telling Sam she wanted the hostages freed first. Not that they had any recourse to affect such an event, but that she wanted those people to be home, then their child could arrive. His answer was a quiet _we'll see_ ; the next thing Jenny knew was the phone ringing.

Sam was next to her, not having gotten up to write. He did stir for the call, but by the time he reached the kitchen, the ringing had stopped. Unbothered, Jenny went to the bathroom. If it was important, the caller would try again.

Jenny heard the children upstairs. She wasn't used to that either, but again, it would be time in coming. From the top level she heard the phone ring, only once. She helped Will down the stairs, Chelsea much quicker. By the time Jenny and her son reached the landing, Chelsea was in the bathroom.

"Will, you need to go potty?" Jenny asked, his head nodding.

As her children used the facilities, Jenny listened for her husband. Maybe it had been Tommie. Yet it was so early and Jenny stepped onto the landing, hoping to hear Sam's voice.

Chelsea hugged Jenny's legs. "Did you wash your hands Chelse?"

"Uh-huh. Where's Daddy?"

"Mama!" Will called.

Jenny smiled. "You go down, we'll be there in a minute."

As Chelsea took the stairs, Jenny attended to her son standing on the small stool, trying to reach the soap. She dumped out the potty, flushed the toilet, then helped Will clean his hands.

When Jenny reached the kitchen, Chelsea was in her chair, Sam starting breakfast. Jenny had made raisin bread a few days back, something Alvin used to love. Smelling pieces of it in the toaster, she sat at the table as Sam put Will in the high chair.

Sam had only said _good morning_ , seemed reserved. "Honey, who was it?" Jenny asked.

"T-O-M-M-I-E."

"Mama, what's that spell?" Chelsea asked, getting drink of milk.

"Uh, surprise."

"Like for Christmas?"

"Uh-huh."

Jenny got up and Sam met her, then held her tight. "What is it?" she whispered.

"B-O-N-N-I-E," Sam spelled.

"Daddy, no secrets!" Chelsea giggled.

"Daddy!" Will repeated.

Jenny's heart pounded; what in the world could Bonnie want this early in the morning?

As their children chattered, Sam led her into the corner near the back door. "Baby what?" Jenny asked.

Sam sighed, then kissed her face. "Honey, she killed herself. Ray Gardner found her this morning in her car. She's gone Jenny. Bonnie's dead."

Chapter 31

At Bonnie Carmine's funeral, Jenny and Sam stood alongside Mildred Winchester and a lawyer from Salem. A few others attended, partly to pay their respects, mostly to see if the Cassels would show. Jenny went for Alvin, she told people. For Alvin, but not her children.

It was cool day and Jenny wore a long maternity skirt Rae had made her. Jenny donned the silver flats that Alvin had bought, the only comfortable shoes for her swollen feet. The shoes weren't warm and as soon as the pastor finished the last prayer Jenny and Sam walked to their car, not stopping to see his mother or Alvin.

Bonnie had been buried next to her husband, nowhere near her son. That Bonnie Carmine was Alvin Harris' mother was just starting to settle, news that would last for ages. Not so much for Bonnie, but Alvin, that man still in the thoughts of many, his figure a large one, for several reasons. One more had been added, but Jenny didn't allow it much room.

She had known since his death and so much had followed; the baby she carried was the next big event. Thanksgiving and Christmas too, but the arrival of her and Sam's child was all Jenny could contemplate. Now seven months along, her body reminded her, if by chance she could forget. She wanted to put Bonnie Carmine on a tall shelf, out of view, but Sam's baby was always with Jenny, a child she wanted with all her heart.

From the moment Sam told her Bonnie was dead, Jenny had been subdued. In less than three months she had learned her parents and sister were gone, then the Carmines. That Bonnie had chosen to blurt her long-held secret had been her choice; Jenny would have happily taken it to her grave. Instead everyone knew about Bonnie. Only a handful knew about Jenny.

In Colorado only Hugh and Sarah Freshcer recalled Jenny's family and once they passed away, no one on that street would know what had occurred. Small towns held information longer, but one day Bonnie and Alvin would be faint whispers in the trees, trees now holding yellow bows. One day the hostages would come home.

Sam drove to the Baxters where Chelsea and Will had spent the afternoon. Jenny didn't go inside, weary from the baby. The last year of her life had been crammed with so many ups and downs, but Jenny smiled as her children headed for the car. Not only the last twelve months, but for five and a half years Jenny's existence had been a roller coaster.

Sylvia and Keith stood on the front step calling to their grandchildren. Jenny would have never guessed when stepping on that Greyhound bus all that waited for her in Oregon. She waved to them as Sam buckled the kids in car seats, Chelsea chatting about their outing, Will babbling his share. Then the car started and the Cassel family headed home.

Three days later, Jenny received a call from Jeff Wheeler; there was something for her in Bonnie Carmine's estate. Jenny didn't want anything from that woman. Then she paused; Alvin had been from Bonnie. Jenny listened with half her attention, the other half watching Chelsea and Will in the living room.

Thanksgiving was the next day, but Jeff wanted to see her as soon as possible to tie up loose ends for Bonnie's lawyer. With nothing on the calendar for Friday, Jenny set a time for ten that morning.

Because of her size, Jenny wasn't taking anything to Tommie and Rae's, only her plus-sized feet, she had joked. Lexi was home and she and Alana were doing most of the cooking, Rae teaching her daughters the fundamentals of putting on a turkey dinner. It was all about the timing, Rae had smiled to Jenny. Plus hot, delicious gravy covered a multitude of sins. Jenny had laughed. Lexi and Alana had seemed fearful, but Rae had insisted, no time like the present.

Joining her offspring, Jenny considered that. There was no time but that moment. Sitting on the couch, she found her children begging for a story. Jenny had read the books on either end of the sofa so many times, she ached for something new.

"Mama, you tell us a story. Tell us about Papa."

"Your papa?"

"Papa, Papa!" Will added, slinging his head from side to side.

Blonde hair twirled around his face, motions Alvin had never made. Jenny hadn't met him as a young man in age, but in spirit he hadn't been much beyond her, or far past their children. "Oh your papa," she started. "He was such a special man."

"Why special?" Chelsea asked.

Having calmed, Will struggled to find a place on his mother's lap. "There's no room honey," Jenny smiled. "The baby's too big."

"Baby too big," he repeated, settling against her side.

"Mama, what about Papa?" Chelsea insisted.

In earnest and loving faces, Jenny saw a man from whom she had known such love, yet he couldn't match Sam's complete hold on her heart. But in coming here, Jenny hadn't needed overwhelming affection. All she had needed was Alvin.

"Well, when I met your papa, the first thing he did was tell me about this farm, and the sign, the one Uncle Tommie made. Then we came inside and he offered me some cake. Auntie Rae used to cook for him and you know how she loves making lemon pound cake."

"Did he live alone?" Chelsea asked.

"Oh yeah, all by himself. Then I moved in and that was it."

"Then you had me."

"Yeah Chelse. Then we had you."

"Then he died."

Jenny caressed her daughter's blonde head. "Yeah honey. But before he died we made Will and then Sam came home."

"My daddy!" Chelsea yelled, hearing not only her mother's words but her father's footsteps.

Chelsea ran off the couch, Will right behind as Jenny patted her belly. "Yeah, your daddy."

During the Thanksgiving meal, everyone heard about Bonnie bequeathing something to Jenny. No one could imagine what it might be, although privately Jenny and Sam wondered if she had left the identity of Alvin's father. Jenny didn't care, never considering anyone except Alfred Harris in that role.

She spent most of her time seated, eating in spurts, Liz on one side, Alana on the other. Sam was flanked by their children across the table.

Liz squeezed Jenny's hands several times during the meal, then offered a whisper after many of the group had left. "Thanks for making him keep that arm."

"Honey, he'll cut it off over my dead body," Jenny giggled.

They laughed as Max returned. "What?"

"Only conspiring against you," Liz said.

"When are you not?" he smiled. Then Max laughed, looking at Sam across the table. Everyone else had gone, football blaring in the living room. "You tell her?"

Liz shook her head. "You do it."

"What?" Jenny asked.

Liz leaned over, setting one of Jenny's hands on Liz's middle.

Jenny began crying. Soon Sam was at her side wiping a flood of tears. "What?" he asked.

Liz stood, then leaned to her uncle's ear. "I'm pregnant."

Sam's face was stark. "Jesus Christ! Are you sure?"

Max nodded at Liz's side. "This time we are."

He closed the door, sharing that his parents knew, as did Jacob and Debbie. They were going to tell everyone else that night, which by now didn't leave too many, but Max had wanted Sam and Jenny to know once the grandparents had been told.

"We just decided to try, I mean, I'm here, you know, for good." Max was circumspect, then he lightened. "And I'm not gonna cut it off," he smiled at Jenny, then his wife. "I promise."

A knock was heard, then Tommie's rumble. "Come on in," Max said.

"Hey, well, good grief! Jenny you okay?"

He came to her side, kneeling beside her. "I don't know Grandpa. You tell me."

Tommie's laugh was hearty. "Oh hey, they only told us last night." A few words were shared, then Tommie smiled. "Listen, give me a minute alone with Jenny, okay?"

Sam stood, patting Tommie on the back. "Congratulations, all three of you."

"Yeah well, you beat me, but not by much," Tommie grinned.

Sam laughed as Max led Liz from the room.

Tommie grabbed Liz's seat, then took Jenny into his arms. "Oh honey, it's okay. Gonna be someone for Junior to play with."

Jenny nodded, then looked into his knowing eyes. "Tommie..."

"Jenny, Max told me about last fall."

She sighed. "I wanted him to..."

"Honey, it's okay. I was pretty surprised, I mean, not exactly the kind of thing you want your kid to be doing, but it's their business. I just told him to never tell his mother."

"That's what we said."

Tommie looked to the door. "He's got a road ahead of him, but then so did I. Being a farmer wasn't what I had planned." Tommie gave a tired chuckle. "Wasn't thinking I was gonna be such a young grandfather either, but this's what we've got. I told him if they still wanna go to Eugene, it's up to them."

"Liz'll never leave," Jenny smiled.

"No she won't. Debbie won't want her too, neither will Rae." He laughed. "My God, I'm gonna be a grandpa!"

Jenny smiled. "Yeah you are. I wonder what Alvin would say."

They looked around as if that man was among them, only finding older pictures of Tommie and Rae, photographs that told of life moving not as one thought.

"I think he'd be pretty darned pleased." Tommie smiled, giving Jenny a gentle kiss. "About that and this too."

His gnarled hand went to the baby who moved with the slight pressure. Jenny's tears returned as the siblings embraced, feeling one more presence near.

That night Sam and Jenny spoke for a few minutes about Max and Liz's news. Jenny was exhausted from all her crying and her state at large, which was large, she told her husband. "And only getting bigger. Expect a whole lot more of this before it's over."

Sam laughed. "Baby, I'll take you anyway I can get you."

"Well right now you're not getting any." She kissed him, then turned over and went to sleep.

In the morning Sam let her rest, pondering Liz's pregnancy, such joy on those young faces. Rae and Debbie had been in tears as if hearing for the first time and Steve and Marcy mockingly thanked them; now her parents would be pestering them to get busy.

Alana and Lexi were thrilled, the evening ending on a high note. Liz's baby was due in July, with no murmur to what that couple had undergone last autumn. Jenny told Sam that Tommie knew, all agreeing that Rae should never know. That night she had wept more than anyone had ever seen her. Sam wondered if it was only due to becoming a grandmother.

He left Jenny to rest, then spent an hour typing. This story shared only the first three chapters with his previous work, having moved in a different direction. Sam didn't know what he'd do once it was done, didn't feel writing was his forte. He was a father and a farmer. Depending on how the trees did next year, maybe they would plant those fifty acres of apples, taking advantage of the ash-laden soil. The vegetables seemed to have benefitted from the nutrients and Sam would see what next year's crop produced. Rain fell now at a steady clip, pressing debris into the ground. What materialized was anyone's guess.

"Daddy?" Chelsea called.

He stood as she toddled from her room. "Good morning sweetheart." Sam picked her up, then returned to his chair. Occasionally a few pages sported random letters; Sam recognized it was better to give her a minute, then she was done.

"Daddy, are we going to Grandma's today?"

"Yeah. Mommy and I'll get you and Will after lunch."

Chelsea snuggled as Sam kissed the top of her head. She was quiet early in the morning and Sam wondered if Alvin had been that way.

Was nature or nurture the dominant force in a child's life, Sam pondered as Chelsea scooted from his lap, then lay on the bed, crayons and a coloring book waiting. Sometimes she wanted to go back to sleep and Sam would lift her over the gate, watching her scramble to their room. But that morning he was glad all she wanted was to color. Jenny needed to rest, no telling what they would learn in a few hours from Jeff Wheeler.

They dropped off the children at a quarter to ten, then arrived at the Wheelers' house minutes later. Tommie's truck waited and he got out as soon as they pulled next to him. Jenny had wanted him there for support and she stood between those men as they waited for Mary Ann to let them inside.

A light mist fell and they shook off rain in the entryway. Mary Ann took their coats, offering Jenny some water as Jeff came down the stairs, ushering them into his office.

Jenny took small sips as Jeff Wheeler pulled an envelope from a file on his desk. Instead of staying behind that barrier, he came around and leaned against it. "I have no idea what this is," he started, "but I'm supposed to give it to you, then another."

"That's a bit mysterious," Sam said.

"I agree, but that's all I know. Hector Elliot is Bonnie's attorney and he was given detailed instructions. This one first, then one more."

Jenny was chilled by such premeditation. "Do I have to be the one to open it?"

"That wasn't made clear, only that this one came first."

"Sam, you do it."

He nodded, taking the envelope from Jeff.

Jenny felt Bonnie's spite drifting from the grave. She set her cup on a side table, then held Tommie's good hand, feeling his squeezes. Then she heard paper emerging from the torn end of the envelope. Sam breathed evenly, no gasps or sighs.

"Well, what does she say?" Tommie asked.

"It was my stepfather."

Jenny took the paper. "It was my stepfather," she repeated.

As they looked to each other, all three felt the same chill. Jeff Wheeler stood outside their collective knowledge, even though he too knew that Bonnie was Alvin's mother.

Jenny stood at the same time Sam did, collapsing into his arms. She didn't cry, wasn't sure if Bonnie's cryptic note meant what ran through her head. As Sam told her he loved her, Jenny knew it was in his mind as well.

"Jeff, can I have the next letter?" Tommie's voice was somber.

The attorney already had it in his hand. "Here you are."

Jenny again heard the opening of the envelope, the rustle of paper. Then Tommie's mumbled hush, not even entire words, only sounds. Then an abrupt _Jesus Christ!_

She turned, finding his brown eyes soft and loving. "What?"

Tommie looked at Jenny. "It doesn't matter honey. He was only her stepfather."

The photograph from the second envelope was dated January 1936, one year before Alvin's birth. Bonnie stood with a tall, older man, but no last names were written anywhere on the picture, only the date alongside an inscription: _Bonnie with Daddy_. Bonnie looked vaguely familiar, but the man was a ringer for Alvin Harris.

A similar smile, fair hair, large eyes. The picture was black and white and Jenny couldn't tell if his were blue, but as if she held an image of Alvin in her hands, it wouldn't look any less like the first man she had loved with her body and her heart.

In the photograph, the man's arm hung over Bonnie's shoulder, his hand gripping her dress. He was easily a foot taller than her with a grin Jenny recognized. Large and affable, but unlike Alvin's open countenance, a secret was concealed, one needing admission.

Jenny recognized Bonnie's nervous gaze and Tommie did too, the look on all three Cope sisters in the snapshot he had taken to Colorado. One of lives restrained, breaths held. Bonnie and that man knew each other far more intimately than their innocent poses claimed.

After reading the note, Jenny had nearly been sick. Bonnie had possibly been raped by her father, Alvin the product of that union, why she had demanded Jenny get an abortion. The other note seemed to answer a different query. That man was only her _stepfather_.

With no other information, they kept the contents of the second letter from Jeff Wheeler's view. Jenny didn't dwell on what he might assume. Her head was full enough with what Bonnie had revealed.

They went to Jenny and Sam's where Jenny reiterated what Bonnie had told her; Betsy and Alfred had just married, but Arkendale was so far and Betsy was leery of leaving her childhood home. Bonnie was pregnant, begging Betsy to stay to see Bonnie through her confinement. Then Betsy could take the child to Arkendale, tell people it was Alfred's, that Betsy hadn't wanted to leave home without first having her baby.

The simple tale had fooled everyone, but Alvin was slow to walk and talk. Once mental retardation had been diagnosed, Bonnie and her new husband Harold moved to Arkendale. Jenny wasn't sure whose idea it was, but the women had mutually agreed that Bonnie would help Betsy with Alvin.

Jenny wondered if Betsy knew about Bonnie and her father, or rather, her stepfather. So many pieces were missing, things they would never know. How long Bonnie had been aware of that man's real identity wasn't clear. Bonnie's lawyer had been given the photograph over a year ago, but the note only after Harold had died. Had someone told her the truth? Had she known all along, only waiting to make sure Will was healthy? All Jenny knew for certain was that for many years Bonnie Carmine had thought her son was conceived in an incestuous union, and only recently she had learned that he wasn't.

"I don't think she knew, not when Alvin died," Jenny said. "Or else she wouldn't have been so adamant against me having Will."

"Yeah, I mean, it wouldn't make any sense for her to have known, but then said that to you." Sam drank his water. They were seated at the kitchen table, three glasses but no cookies.

"Honey, the main thing is she wanted you aware. She found out, knew it was important for you to know too. Chelsea and Will are just fine. How Alvin was born was just a fluke, but the kids are fine."

Jenny released a few tears. "I keep thinking about that. She didn't have to tell me it was her stepfather. She could've just given me the picture, then let me be terrified for my children. But she told me. She didn't have to, but she did."

She stood, looking around the room. "Maybe she couldn't love him and I understand that. My god, if my father had gotten me pregnant, I don't know what I would've done."

She gazed at Sam. "Honey, oh Jesus, I am so sorry!"

Sam nodded. "I know, me too."

Rae and Sylvia called, were told it would be a while. Jenny had broken down, and Sam wasn't in much better shape.

Tommie's head pounded. He wanted a beer, just one cold sip, then maybe another. He laughed; if he started it would be a long night, trying to sort out all they had learned. And that didn't even bring into account the last news Jeff Wheeler had given them.

All of the Carmine estate, which came to over half a million dollars, was left to Jenny. That had been amended to the will, Jeff told them, at the same time Bonnie gave her lawyer the note, right after Harold's death.

What they would do with that money, Tommie wasn't sure. They didn't need it, not with what Alvin's estate provided. The extra money Sam had made last year when gold rose through the roof went to a fund for the hostages' families. Jenny had wanted them to have it, but as for Bonnie's estate, who knew what would come of it?

"You know, it makes so much sense now. She couldn't love him, thought he was, oh god," Jenny sighed. "She thought he was slow because he was inbred. Still," she added, "I wonder if she ever told Betsy."

"I doubt it," Tommie said. "She never treated Alvin any differently than she did the rest of her kids. I mean, he was different, but she loved him, my God, she adored that boy."

"I bet Bonnie never told her. Probably only that she'd been unlucky," and Sam stopped.

"You okay?" Jenny asked him.

"Yeah, just that Tracy went through that three times, just goddamned sick and evil."

Sam stood, adding two large pieces of wood to the fire. Then he joined his wife on the sofa. "Honey, all I can say is it's over, it really is."

Tommie heard those words and nodded. Alvin and Bonnie were dead, so were Jenny's parents and Tracy's father. So many had been wounded in the process, but in late 1980, it was truly over.

Chapter 32

Tommie Smith turned forty-four on Sunday, the fourteenth of December. All his family watched him blow out that many candles, Will and Chelsea held aloft, offering their lung power too. Rae complained the house would be smoky for days, but Tommie's four children and their wives and boyfriends all wanted this birthday marked, Tommie's first as a grandparent.

Jenny noticed no flinching from Lexi, who had returned for her Christmas break. She was thrilled for her brother, the coming baby having settled Max's mind. He would be a father, his life spent assisting his family on their farm, offering that one good hand to Sam and Grant when they needed it. Jenny was five weeks out from her own baby's arrival and other than wishing her brother a happy birthday, she ate cake, felt hands on her, and like the rest listened to Liz throw up in the Smith bathroom. Jenny said it was a fine place as she had done it several times with all of her children.

A year ago she had lost a baby, but the one within her had little room for wriggling. Dr. Fisher had claimed the head was down. In all reality, Jenny could go into labor any day.

Alana asked Jenny and Sam when they wanted their baby. In a moment of weakness Jenny offered she wanted the hostages home first. The room went quiet, an awkward silence that to everyone's surprise was broken by Rae. She went to Jenny's side, crooning they would certainly be home before the baby came.

Later, the family wondered if becoming a grandmother had softened Rae, or was it Will, still the apple of his auntie's eye. Only a few knew why Rae had changed, but Tommie, Sam, Max, and Jenny said nothing to each other, for it concerned the ancient past. With hands so full, it was unnecessary to dredge up old tragedies.

After Tommie's birthday, Christmas lingered on all minds, especially Chelsea's. She was fully aware of Santa Claus, having sat on his lap at the Arkendale Christmas faire. Will had been skittish, but Chelsea stood in line, holding her father's hand, and a Polaroid was displayed on the refrigerator, Chelsea's smile as bright as Alvin's. Jenny had buried the memory of Bonnie standing with her stepfather; only Alvin owned that huge grin, those wide ocean-blue eyes, passing them to his children. Jenny stared at Chelsea's picture, noting a face not exactly the same as her papa, but rounder, more like Jenny's, maybe like her sister Jess. Chelsea still had Alvin's large blue eyes, but Will possessed Alvin's elongated face and his natural climbing ability. He couldn't conquer the third floor gate, but William Alvin Harris Cassel scaled whatever he could latch his nimble toes onto, a boy needing firm rules in the future. And when he and Chelsea were older, the truth of how their papa died.

Jenny would tell them, but other aspects of their history were better left to fade away. Both she and Sam felt their lives had restarted the day Jenny arrived in Arkendale and while it had been more immediate joy for Jenny than Sam, it wasn't a question of correct ratios of heartache to happiness. Only that at the end of 1980, with Christmas approaching, they had each other, two children, one on the way.

Once the hostages were freed, Jenny sighed, life would be perfect.

On Christmas, Chelsea and Will opened presents, overwhelmed by bliss. Their parents hadn't exchanged anything, but as Sam stood, throwing another piece of wood on the fire, he reached into the middle of the tree. "Hey, I think Santa left one more gift."

"Is it for me?" Chelsea asked from the floor amid Barbie dolls and crumpled wrapping.

"Hmmm," Sam smiled. "Well, there's no tag, but it's a pretty small box." He shook it.

"No Daddy!" Will yelled, sitting next to his mother on the couch.

They laughed. Will had been threatened with a swat since boxes went under the tree.

"You're right Will. No shaking or I'll get a spank."

Will found that hilarious and couldn't stop laughing.

Jenny giggled along with her son. "Sam, who's that for?"

"Well Mama, I think it's probably for you. No Barbie's gonna fit in this box."

Chelsea joined her father, next to her mother and brother. "Maybe Barbie shoes?"

"There's enough of those on this floor already," Sam teased, handing the box to his wife.

Jenny trembled and Sam steadied her. "Merry Christmas Mama. I love you." He kissed her, setting his palm against their child.

Unable to speak, Jenny took the lid from the box. Inside was another of crushed velvet.

"Mama, what is it?" Chelsea asked, looking inside.

"I, I don't know Chelse. You wanna open it?"

"Maybe it is Barbie shoes." The little girl carefully used small fingers to remove the case.

Sam helped his daughter open it and Chelsea squealed. "It's a ring! Daddy look, it's a ring!"

Jenny's tears fell as Sam handled a ruby and diamond band. "I didn't get it sized, thought we'd wait until after Junior."

She nodded as he slipped it over her middle left finger. It fit easily, but would later need to be sized.

Jenny stared at rubies encircling a diamond the size of her engagement ring. She wore neither that nor her wedding band, those pieces sitting on her dresser. This one would need to be altered, but for the next few weeks it was a good fit, and Jenny twirled it around her finger.

"My god Sam, it's beautiful. You didn't have to do this."

"Like hell I didn't," he laughed, smoothing her robe over the baby. "I think I owe you one for every finger."

She giggled. "You know, I told Alvin that rings were too bourgeois, something someone like..." She paused. "Like B-O-N-N-I-E would expect." Her hand went to her necklace, where she played with the charms.

Sam smiled as the children left the sofa for their toys. "Well, I suppose I could just take it back..."

His laughing gray eyes teased and Jenny squeezed his fingers. "I don't think so Buster Brown. Right now this's the only one that fits."

Sam kissed her again, then came close to her face. "Maybe I won't get it sized. We'll just leave it like it is for a while, see what happens."

"You thinking ahead?" Jenny grinned.

Sam's hands rested on their baby, but his kiss was more intimate. "I'm always thinking of the future."

On New Year's Eve the older couples gathered at Jacob and Debbie's as kids flitted in and out, Liz still unwell. Recalling those early days, Jenny smiled. Sam's Christmas present never left her hand, not that it could, she joked. Now it was stuck until the baby was born.

Chelsea and Will had been deposited at their grandparents, not that Jenny and Sam would be out late, but some of Sylvia's granddaughters had come after Christmas and were dying to see their cousins. They had hoped the new baby might come early, but as there was no change in Iran, Jenny didn't want her child to arrive. Sleep was obtained for a couple of hours at a time, heartburn noted daily. Jenny was either peeing or eating and having gained another pound and a half, she was up to an extra thirty. "He better not go late," she said from Jacob's sofa. "Or I will be big as a house."

That night memories were shared, of barbecues and Fourth of July celebrations, the Smith brothers getting married, Jenny and Sam too. Happy times edged out darker moments, implicit but not forgotten.

Sam quietly sat by Jenny's side. They held hands and when she fingered his ring, he felt a rush of exuberance. He had considered those lesser incidents and how long he had loved this woman, love unrequited. That Easter dinner back in 1975 seemed a long time ago, what with 1981 knocking on the door.

Over five years, coming on six, and within a few weeks he'd be toting their baby. Jacob and Tommie would be grandfathers next summer and Sam was just getting started. Yet, he'd been a father, but not for a long, long time.

Rae put on oldies they had listened to when Jenny and Alvin danced at the Smith barbecue, Sam having danced with her in this very room on New Year's Eve, 1975. She was pregnant then too, Chelsea a smidgen within her mother. A baby that was Sam's daughter, a little girl now four years old. Sam smiled; he had been a daddy since Chelsea was tiny.

Since she was less than two, when Jenny needed not a lover, only a friend. They had been friends first, his best friend now, as well as wife and mother to his children. Mother to _his_ child and Sam stood. "Jenny Cope, you wanna dance?"

She laughed. "Are you serious?"

The rest chuckled. "You're not gonna be able to get her offa that sofa," Jacob laughed.

"Might be your last dance as a mother of two," Sam grinned.

She moved to the edge. "Sam Cassel, if you can haul me outta this thing, I'm all yours."

Freddy Fender hit Sam's ears, the same song he had danced to with this woman five years before. Five years ago on this very night he had held her close, making sure his heart knew the cost. She hadn't been his; he thought she never would be. Using both hands, he pulled her up, then stood at her side. Wrapping his arms around her, Sam grew hard, for her loved her. He had loved her then, but this was different, healing abject wounds. Maybe they would make love later that night or maybe he would only hold her, his hands possessing not just their baby, but the most precious gift Sam could imagine. Moving to the music, Sam never noticed Tommie and Rae standing, Jacob and Debbie too, three couples floating to "Before the Next Teardrop Falls". Sam only knew the woman in his arms, the most beautiful treasure of all.

January seemed a miserable month with icy rain and hostages still lost to their loved ones. The only bright spot was waiting for the baby.

Waiting, what Jenny had done for much of her life. She had waited for men to be finished with her, waited on buses to take her to the next place, waited for something in her life to matter. Standing in the Las Cruces Greyhound station, an older woman had approached, asking where she was headed. Jenny's answer had been nowhere in particular. As if by fate, or by hook and yarn, Sylvia Baxter swept Jenny from her past, setting her down in the green fertile town of Arkendale, Oregon. Nothing had ever been the same.

Amid blustery weather, mild contractions came and went and Jenny had to wonder; would this baby take as long as those stuck in the Middle East?

She knew it wouldn't, boy or girl the only question left. Sam had finally let her read his story. A love story, he'd said, and it had made Jenny cry.

She had wept for two days while reading it, aware of not only the characters but the ghosts excised. Sam's story was an elegy to loss but more, an ode to second chances. He said it was probably the last thing he would write, that farming was enough for him.

"Sam, this is beautiful!" Jenny wiped her eyes. "My god honey, don't stop!"

"Oh Jenny, after that, what more needs to be said?"

She wasn't sure. Their pasts were gone, most of the pain too. Jenny still felt an occasional ache when Will looked at her a certain way, Alvin in that boy so strongly. She loved her husband, but Alvin Harris had been one of a kind.

A few days later, in mid January, Tommie and Rae came for lunch. It was the fifteenth and would have been Alvin's forty-fourth birthday. They hadn't gone to the cemetery that year, a sleeting downpour keeping everyone inside. Sam had done the cooking, Jenny waddling about, only able to sit, then stand, heartburn reaching the back of her throat.

Chelsea had her big-girl seat and Will sat in the high chair. "I need to see if I can find another chair for him like Chelsea's," Tommie said.

"That'd be great," Jenny smiled. Then she let out a large belch. Everyone laughed and Jenny grinned. "My god but it's time for this baby!"

Rae gushed over fabrics for her grandchild's crib bedding with little of her past cynicism, that having faded since Bonnie's announcement. Rae wasn't ignorant to _why_ Bonnie had nothing to do with Alvin; Tommie had told her. She'd been disbelieving that Bonnie could possibly be Alvin's mother, but with all details revealed, Rae had relented. Just in time, Jenny thought. Better for Rae to be eased with her own grandchild on the way.

Bonnie had been a grandmother when she visited Jenny after Chelsea's birth, but hadn't permitted herself to hold that tiny infant. Jenny had assumed it was because Chelsea was illegitimate, but a greater fear had existed, one so damning Bonnie couldn't even touch Chelsea.

All those years Bonnie had considered Alvin not only a bastard and the result of rape, but of incest, his handicap due to some amoral genetic integration. Yet, near the end of her life, Bonnie had learned Alvin hadn't been her son and her brother, only her child. Only a baby having grown into a man somewhat challenged, but with the most loving, open heart. And from him came two of Jenny's children.

Chelsea and Will possessed no mental deficiencies or physical abnormalities. That might change, but right then all their lives were blessed.

"Maybe there is a God," Jenny said, her voice airy. "Maybe there is something after this."

"What?" Rae laughed at Will, who threw his head from side to side.

Jenny moved to that boy, truly the spitting image of his biological father, even as he continued flinging his head, caught in rapturous laughter. Jenny had missed whatever had gotten into her son, but something was making him giggle like no tomorrow.

"Maybe," her hands slowing that frantic head, then finding those blue eyes, as wide and free as the largest body of water. "Maybe God does exist."

"Like Jesus?" Chelsea asked.

Jenny caught that face, still like her papa, but becoming more like Jenny's own. "Yeah honey, like Jesus."

"I love Jesus," Chelsea smiled. "Daddy and I pray to him every night."

Sam joined his wife, grasping her hand, saying nothing.

"Well, maybe tonight I can pray with you." Jenny gave Sam a squeeze.

She missed the nods between the Smiths, also missing Rae's unexpected tears, Tommie's more common.

"I'd like that," Chelsea said. "We can pray in your bed."

"Oh yeah Chelse." Jenny's voice cracked, then she smiled. "I'd like that too."

On Monday night, Sam Cassel's family said a small prayer in Jenny and Sam's room. Jenny's water had ruptured during dinner, causing a small fuss with Will, but Chelsea was ready for her new brother or sister. "Dear Jesus," she prayed. "Please let the baby come soon 'cause I'm tired of waiting. Amen."

"Amen," Jenny agreed amid escalating contractions.

The baby would arrive in the next day, perhaps before the hostages' release. Ronald Reagan was being sworn in tomorrow, news reports rife with rumors. Would the Iranian government dare provoke an attack if the hostages were still held with a new president in charge?

If Jenny wasn't trying to breathe through increasing pain, she might ponder that. Instead Sam called Dr. Fisher, who wanted Jenny to try for one more night's sleep. If her contractions were closer than five minutes apart, Sam should bring her in.

They decided to wait, Chelsea and Will put to bed in their own room instead of sleeping at the Smith farm. Jenny's eyes were hard to keep open, even with contractions making her wince. By ten that night, she had gone to sleep.

Six hours later Sam woke to a rough poke and an even sharper shout. "Oh my God! Sam?"

"What? What is it?"

"I think you need to call Tommie. I feel like, like..."

"Like what?"

"Like if you don't get me to the hospital, I'm gonna have this baby right here!"

Dressed only in his shorts, Sam bounded down the stairs and called Tommie.

Jenny had gotten out of bed by the time he returned. "Listen, they'll be here in a minute. Can you get dressed?"

She made a face and Sam helped her into sweatpants and a long sleeved shirt. "Oh my God, I'd forgotten how bad this hurts!"

"Baby, just breathe, okay?"

She nodded as Sam dressed. "Your bag by the door?"

"Yeah, oh my God!"

Tommie and Rae arrived by the time Jenny was downstairs. "Listen, we'll get the kids to our house. Alana can just miss school today."

"Call Sylvia," Jenny muttered. "She can keep... Oh Christ!"

Jenny doubled over and Sam held her. "Just breathe baby, just breathe."

Tommie laughed. "Just like she was with Will. Good luck Sam, you're gonna need it."

By the time Jenny was examined, Sam was certain the baby would arrive on the next contraction. Instead the nurse smiled. "Well, you're to five. Halfway there."

"Halfway?" Sam sputtered.

Jenny nodded. "Thank God. Are the hostages free yet?"

"What?" the nurse asked.

Sam smoothed Jenny's hair. "We'll find out, okay honey?"

He felt his hand being crunched within his wife's grip. "Yeah okay. Oh Sam!"

By mid-morning, the lobby was packed with family. Tommie visited Jenny for a few minutes, and she didn't look any different to when she gave birth to Will; sweating, weary, and loud. When Jenny had a baby, she wasn't a quiet woman.

Sam was sorry for her pain, but so excited, and Tommie took that news to the rest.

"How is she?" Max asked.

Tommie smiled, wondering how that boy would do with Liz in a few months' time. "They're nearly there."

The Baxters had brought Chelsea and Will. Rae slowly chased that boy, who was too fast for his auntie. Tommie thought about the last thing Jenny said to him, asking if the hostages were freed. It was a talisman for her; first those fifty-two men and women, then her baby. Not that any of them had much say. Reagan was being inaugurated as they waited and Tommie only wanted to see that baby.

Jenny's baby, but more importantly, Sam's offspring; Tommie needed to know that Sam's child was fine. Tommie smiled, watching Rae happily scoop Will in her arms. Sam had been a father years ago, was one that very day, but this was different, no way to deny it. Tommie wished Jenny would just deliver that baby.

If she was waiting on the Ayatollah, they'd all been waiting for over a year. Instead of doing the math, Tommie looked at his wife's face, free of sarcasm and bitterness. Rae had been restrained for over twenty years and now, with Will in her grasp, she went to where Max and Liz stood, handing that wiggly boy to Liz's waiting arms.

As Rae gave Max's bad hand a squeeze, Tommie noticed Max's wide smile.

"Son, what is it?" Tommie yelled across the lobby.

"I, I felt that! I felt Mom take my hand!"

"Jesus Christ," Tommie shouted, moving their way.

All surrounded Max and Liz, various pinches and pokes offered. Max felt enough that for the first time in months there was talk of another visit to that specialist in Eugene, maybe even a trip to Portland.

When Sam came through, most people's backs were to those double doors, all in a huddle around Max. From where Tommie stood, he saw Sam's smile, as bright as the sun. Tommie moved from the group, catching all attention.

"Well?" Tommie asked.

"A boy," Sam cried, dressed in scrubs. "Jenny had a boy!"

Now everyone turned, Rae and Jacob reaching Sam next.

Those brothers embraced as Sam wept. "We have a boy," he repeated. "Jenny had my son!"

Born thirty minutes after Ronald Reagan took the oath of office, David Thomas Harris Cassel weighed nearly nine pounds, his head covered in dark brown curly hair. Blue eyes were hesitant to open, but in his father's arms David found family speaking in quiet voices, his brother Will's soft touch along his tiny hand. Sitting on their mother's bed, Chelsea held the baby, Sam with Will next to them. Jenny supported her newborn from underneath, but Chelsea would always remember cradling her baby brother on January twentieth, 1981, the day fifty-two men and women were released after four hundred forty-four days of captivity.

Jenny and Sam named their son for the late scientist who reported the explosion of Mount St. Helens, one David Alexander Johnston. Jenny felt it fitting, and she liked the name David.

No one asked about the middle name. Tommie blinked a few tears as the baby was already being referred to as Dave by some, David by his parents. Tommie held that baby in his right arm, stroking a soft face with his good left hand. He called him David as well, but had given Jenny a look, one shared between those having achieved a lasting victory.

The same gaze had gone to Sam, who seemed on a cloud. Jenny had nursed her baby, then Sam handed his child to Jacob, then Rae, followed by Tommie and the rest. Then David returned to his father's arms and Tommie thought it good Jenny had already done this before. For Sam, it was all new.

By evening, only Tommie remained. He was about to leave, but Jenny and Sam asked him to stay. They had already given him a namesake of sorts, what more was there?

"Sit down farmer," Sam said.

"Good lord, what now?" Tommie grinned.

Jenny held the baby at her breast. If she wasn't nursing him, David would be in Sam's arms. Tommie flashed to admonishing Alvin about changing diapers, then smiled. Time moved on and here they were, Sam crowing over his own child.

In Sam's shining eyes, Tommie saw how much these two loved each other and this little boy. Tommie swallowed the memory of his friend, a man who had died with this on his mind. These two together had been all that Alvin wanted.

"Honey," Jenny began. "We want you and Rae to have the money from Bonnie Carmine."

Tommie nearly choked. "What'n the hell?"

"The way Jenny and I look at it, Alvin was your brother, and it should go to you, you and Rae both."

Nothing more strange could have been uttered in Tommie's presence. He stared at them, then to their baby. Not Alvin's child, but what did it matter? Now there was another to initiate into this clan. A family brought together in a most peculiar way, but were they serious?

"Listen, you and Rae have never taken a vacation, never gotten away from this town. Lana's almost out of the house and even with Max and Liz's baby coming, you can start doing stuff, just you two. The boys can keep an eye on things and hell, you've been on a plane now. The world's your oyster!" Sam smiled.

Tommie still had no words. He watched as Jenny moved the baby from her chest, handing David to Sam. The joy in that man's eyes took Tommie's breath and he choked again.

"C'mere Tommie," Jenny said.

He joined her as Sam sat beside them in the rocker. A few small burps had emerged and now that baby slept in his father's arms.

"Honey, you used to always tell me we had more time than money. Then, well, things changed." Jenny's voice was circumspect. "You and Rae take a vacation, fix the house, whatever you want. He was your brother honey, he would've wanted you to have it."

Tommie swallowed, felt like a cough was coming. Then he took a breath and reached for the baby in Sam's arms.

They had always said that, either walking in the trees or through the fields, time far more plentiful than anything in the bank, but they had been wrong. Tommie would give all that money, every bit of it, to just see Alvin one more time. He gazed at Jenny instead, then to Sam. Finally his eyes fell on a sleeping newborn not with blonde hair but dark curls, a little boy who might look like his daddy, a man Tommie thought couldn't get any higher.

"Are you sure?" he said, glancing at Sam, who grinned like a fool.

"Yeah. Talk it over with Rae, see what she thinks."

Tommie imagined Rae's response; a grumble at first, as it was Bonnie's. Then her mind would turn, thinking of a new sewing machine, maybe new carpets. Small things, innocuous things that money could buy, maybe making time slow down. He had a grandchild coming, Max's arm to see about. Maybe that boy might be okay after all.

And even if he wasn't, Tommie smiled, gripping Jenny's hand with his gnarled fingers, life was more than the parts. It was the sum, which was far longer in coming than what was known at nineteen or twenty years old. Tommie looked at Sam and Jenny, then he smiled.

"I don't have to start wearing a tie now do I? I mean, I don't have to go round dressing like Gabe Lewis or, God forbid, Harold Carmine?"

"You do and I'll never bake you another oatmeal chocolate chip cookie again!"

The baby stirred with his mother's vigorous statement. Or maybe, Tommie thought, it was the notion of not getting one of those delicious cookies. Tommie laughed, nodding his answer. "I'll talk to Rae, but I bet she'll not fuss."

As he spoke, David Cassel began making noise. "There, you said it," Sam smiled. "Give him to his mama. Right now cookies are the last thing on his mind."

"Well, not mine. When you're outta here Jenny, that's what I want. You bake me some cookies and we have a deal."

She set the baby to her breast and grinned. "You've got yourself a deal."

As they chuckled, the only sound was that of a newborn held by his mother, nestled in the best place a baby could be.

_______________

Look for _The Farm at Sam & Jenny's_, the fourth book of this series, in late summer 2012

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### Liner Notes

In November 2009, this novel was written for NaNoWriMo. It was the last in the original trilogy of _Alvin's Farm_ , it was also a relief. I'd never attempted such an encompassing series of manuscripts, and all I knew while writing was the end of the Smith, Cassel and Harris families. It was bittersweet and draining, especially considering all the novels that had emerged in the preceding months; I had been on a roll since starting _Alvin's Farm_ in March 2009. If I'd known how many were coming in 2010, including three more starring this cast of characters, I would have probably thrown up my hands in defeat.

This novel was written in quick bursts; I also wrote another novel that November, _A Right Turn At Jesus_. But this one came first, closing the 1970s for Jenny, Sam, Tommie and the rest. Alvin makes an appearance; he is never completely missing, and after I finished this book, I was drawn to return to the cast, leading to a second trilogy. But first was completing the initial tale, which hinged on the realization of Bonnie Carmine as Alvin's mother. In the meantime, Sam and Jenny got pregnant, suffered a miscarriage, then married. But Jenny's past lingered; what had happened to her family? The Mount St. Helens eruption was huge news in Oregon in 1980, triggering Jenny's malaise. With Tommie and Max's trip to Colorado, Jenny's parents were laid to rest, leaving Bonnie and Alvin. Closure for Rae Smith was also achieved, only the American hostages in Iran and Sam's baby left. I wanted to honor David Johnston, who reported the volcano's blast; David Thomas Harris Cassel carried that tribute, closing the novel on a high note.

My heartfelt thanks to Stephanie Kayne for suggesting Mount St. Helens, also to Julie K. Rose for her skilled editorial expertise. Kudos to The Usual Suspects, also to Brian for the cover design. And much appreciation for you the reader, without whom this would be for not.

### Sources

Carson, Rob. _Mount St. Helens: The Eruption and Recovery of a Volcano_. Seattle: Sasquatch Books, 2000.

### About the author

Anna Scott Graham was born in 1966 in Northern California. She is married, mum to several, and lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband and numerous hummingbirds.

Other ebooks by  Anna Scott Graham are available on Smashwords
