

Dear Diary...

Dear Diary...Series

Book 2

By L. M. Reed

Smashwords Edition

Copyright L. M. Reed 2009

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The Dear Diary...Series is available on most e-book platforms.

Check out all the books in the Dear Diary...Series by L. M. Reed

The Eyes Have It

Dear Diary...

Finding Mrs. Wright

For Richard or Poorer

One Knight Stand

Take Your Mark

Keeping Count

Christmas Spy

And coming soon...

Judging a Book

Also, check out the Agent Jack Knight spin-off series...

Agent Jack Knight: The Beginning

Agent Jack Knight: China

And coming soon...

Agent Jack Knight: Russia

Dedication

To my daughter Michelle.

I thank God every day for sending you to enrich and bless my life.

You are truly an exceptional child.

I love you more than I can reach.

Acknowledgements

I would like to take this opportunity to thank the three people who have helped me through the entire process of writing and publishing my book: My oldest daughter Autumn for putting together my cover and proofreading my novel over and over, my youngest daughter Michelle whose cute turn of phrase has inspired many of my best scenes and funniest lines, and my spouse Cary whose technical expertise kept my laptop running and kept me from pulling out every last hair on my head.

This novel was definitely a group effort.

Thank you.

Chapter 1

Dear Diary,

Another appointment. I hate summer.

CeeCee

Glancing at my watch, I decided I had a little time to kill before we needed to leave for the appointment. I didn't want to go, but I had no choice. Mom had been very clear on that point. During the school year, they couldn't very well pull me out of classes every time Dad had something scheduled, but summer was different.

Not for the first time, I futilely wished for Mark.

Idly, I glanced at my most recent diary entry. Like all of the others, it was short and to the point. I'd begun writing in my diary when I was eight, continuing because I was a creature of habit, plus the fact that it reminded me of a list—a long list of my life's events—and I lived for lists.

Suddenly curious, I flipped back to the first entry I had ever written and almost laughed out loud...something I hadn't done in a long time.

Dear diary i am CEECEE i want a puppy not you

I remembered my fury at receiving a silly empty book instead of the puppy I wanted so badly. Mom tried to explain the whole diary concept to me, but it somehow got lost in the translation.

I thought she'd called it a diarrhea, and I had no idea why anyone would want to write to that. Then when Dad suggested that if I didn't want to write in it I could doodle in it instead...well...the visuals that conjured up in my little eight year old mind weren't pretty.

Deciding that rereading my diary was as good a way as any to waste time—I hadn't glanced through my diary since...well, never actually—I turned the page.

I needed a good laugh.

A few pages later, I found an entry that wiped the smile off my face and I no longer felt like laughing. No matter how many years passed, it was unlikely that I would ever find that one amusing.

Dear Diary,

Teacher called me Elsee. I hate 5th grade!!!!!!!

CEECEE

How well I remembered that day...the day kids started calling me Elsie the Cow. I so wished I hadn't been named Elsee. Anything would have been better than that.

I begged my parents to change my name. I even suggested quite a few possibilities. Heather...I had always liked that name. Michelle was cool, a nice French-sounding name. Susan...now who could find anything to make fun of there? Even Mary, a nice unobtrusive name, would have been preferable.

The list of good names went on and on, but no, I was named after a COW! Actually, technically speaking, I was named after my Scottish grandmother, but in the good old US of A., Elsie was a cow, even if mine was spelled with 2 E's.

I learned a valuable lesson that first day of 5th grade. From then on, I always made sure I talked to the teachers privately before they got to the part where they called our names out in front of everybody.

In a weirdly reminiscent mood, I continued my sentimental journey. Another entry caught my eye.

Dear Diary

We have to move.

CeeCee

How well I remembered the summer after my eighth grade year.

Dad had been having health issues for a while, and seemed to be getting worse, but no one had a diagnosis for him.

My parents had moved to a small town in West Texas after Mark was born and before I came along. Originally hired as a junior high coach, my dad had managed to work his way up through the ranks to the head high school football-coaching job.

Midland was the closest city so of course that was where Mom ended up taking him when the local doctor couldn't figure out what was wrong with him, merely suggesting that Dad was simply tired and depressed then told him to get more rest and prescribed him some type of anti-depressant. Mom knew better than to believe that.

Even though the doctors in Midland couldn't figure out what was wrong with him either, at least they ran some tests, and eliminated some possibilities. After that, they suggested we take him to Houston or the Dallas-Fort Worth area for more tests since we wanted to keep to Texas.

After a lot of discussion—my parents always had "heated discussions" not arguments—my Mom finally convinced Dad to quit his teaching/coaching job, which had become too difficult for him to handle.

Meanwhile, Mom began applying for jobs in the Dallas-Fort Worth area to be close to Baylor, which is where my parents decided to try, since the doctors in Midland warned us that it might take quite a while for an actual diagnosis. Mom wanted to stay in Texas to teach because she didn't have the time or energy to do what was necessary to get teaching credentials in a different state.

I was upset—what an understatement—about having to start over in a new place my first year in High School, but what could I say? Dad needed a diagnosis, which we obviously couldn't get living where we were.

Flipping through the pages of my diary again, I wondered idly if anything good had happened to me over the past few years. Funny how it looked like I only wrote in my diary when I was upset about something. Freud would certainly have had plenty to say about that.

Wait, oh yeah, there was a good entry in my diary sometime during my freshman year at the new school. I thumbed through my diary until I found what I was looking for...an entry I'd written right after Christmas that year.

Interesting, one of the only happy entries, and it was actually longer than the others. I practically babbled when something made me happy. Who knew?

Dear Diary,

Met Coach Miller while I was out running today. Going out for the track team this semester and cross-country next fall.

CeeCee

I ran a lot. Running made me feel free. Dad had taken me jogging with him for as long as I could remember. Even when I was a baby, Mom told me he would put me in a backpack type carrier and take me along with him. As I got older, and he realized I loved running, we never missed a day...until he started getting sick.

I still ran. Every morning and every evening, no matter the weather, found me out running. There was a walking/jogging park not too far from our new house, thankfully, and I felt very safe there...the well-lit park populated just enough to have a secure feel to it.

I had been on the junior high track team back home, but didn't think I was good enough to be on my new high school's team because it was so huge...a 5A school.

Coach Miller, the girls' track coach and a dedicated runner herself, ran across me, no pun intended—or maybe the pun was intended, I'd always had a weird sense of humor—while out training for a marathon. She recognized me from one of her P.E. classes, and asked if I wanted to run with her.

Apparently, she was impressed that I could keep up with the pace she set, and convinced me to be on the team. With our financial situation, it was probably a very good thing that she did. I needed a scholarship in order to help pay for college.

Money was tight for my parents, and I didn't want to have to ask them for anything. That was also why Mark had to work so many hours, even though he was a full-time college student, and didn't get to come home much.

The next thing I had written still had the ability to make me sick to my stomach. It wasn't even a week after meeting Coach Miller that my roller coaster of a life headed down again.

Dear Diary,

Dad has MS.

CeeCee

We had a diagnosis: multiple sclerosis. The doctors diagnosed him during the last semester of my freshman year, and although Mom was relieved to finally have a name for what was happening to my dad, it wasn't good.

I only caught a few of the general details, since I usually tended to stick my fingers in my ears and yell "too much information!" Well, figuratively anyway, literally I would put my headphones on, crank up my music, and proceed to ignore anything and everything going on around me.

I had listened to enough to know that the doctors said he would have remissions—remissions sounded promising—but that each time he redeveloped symptoms he would probably get worse. That sounded not so promising.

We kept waiting for a remission, but he just kept getting worse. Apparently, there were different types of MS, and even then, people within each type could differ greatly.

Eventually, the doctors realized that my dad must have the worst kind, the progressive kind, without any remissions. He wasn't going to have any of the "ups". It was fairly rare to be that severe, but, ironically, less likely to cause cognitive problems than some other forms of MS.

The doctors all acted like it was a good thing that dad could still think clearly. I thought it stunk. I personally wouldn't want to know. Sometimes ignorance was bliss.

CeeCee Wilson..."Queen of Denial".

By the end of my sophomore year, a wheelchair had become a necessity and by the end of my junior year, Dad could no longer get into or out of the wheelchair without help.

My mom, predictably, refused to think about putting him in a home of any kind. After many fights with our health insurance company Mom was finally able to get them to agree to pay for four visits a day from a home health agency.

The agency sent out some sort of male aide to help mom transfer dad between his bed and wheelchair. There was no way she could do it herself. Even though Dad had lost weight, he was still around 6 feet tall and close to 180 pounds.

The aide also helped with other more personal things, but I didn't even want to think about what those might be.

I guess Mom was finally able to convince the insurance company that paying for a little help would be cheaper than having to put Dad in a home. Dad had always teased her about "never knowing when to quit". That was Mom in a nutshell.

Anyway, after the aide left in the morning, our neighbor, Mrs. Murray, would come over and sit with dad all day while mom was at work. Mrs. Murray was a very nice lady in her 50s, whose husband had died of cancer a few years before we moved there.

Mom was always apologizing to her for having to leave, but our neighbor would reassure her that she was happy to do whatever she could to help out, that she'd had so many people help her when her husband got sick she was glad to be able to give back a little bit.

Mom showed her how to feed dad through some sort of tube or something under his shirt and Mrs. Murray was all set. I definitely didn't want to know too many specific details about that.

There were a lot of things I felt I didn't need to know. Thankfully, my mom understood my squeamishness.

Dad's speech eventually slurred so badly that it was impossible to understand what he was saying, even for Mom, who had been able to decipher his words for longer than anyone else had. At first, my mom was so frustrated that she was on the verge of tears most of the time just trying to understand what my dad was saying.

I had a hard time watching that—big surprise—so I was very thankful to have been required to read the Count of Monte Cristo for English. There was a man in the book who had a stroke or something, and he used blinks to communicate with people. Who knew you could actually learn something useful in English class?

Mom was certain Dad was still in there, trapped in a useless body, but all there mentally, so she was thrilled when I mentioned what I had read about communicating with blinks. Even though mom was a teacher, her field was home economics; English literature had never been one of her strong points.

She had me bring home a copy of the novel so she could read the relevant parts and spent a lot of time on our computer searching online for whatever she could find about communicating with people like my dad.

Even though he could no longer see very well, he could still blink. It was a slow process, but both of my parents were very relieved to be able to talk to each other again. They were best friends.

I, however, had a hard time being around him. As long as I stayed away, I could just ignore the facts, pretend that none of it existed.

In the beginning, when we had hopes for a remission, I had been able to fool myself into thinking that it would all go away. If we could just wait for him to get over the "down" part, he would return to fairly normal again. Then, who knew when the symptoms would reappear. That was how it worked for most people with MS.

Since that never happened, I had to readjust my strategy. I could no longer convince myself that things were going to improve so I decided that none of it was real. I began avoiding my parents, unwilling to hear or see anything that would force me to accept that everything wasn't normal, that nothing would ever be normal again. I especially avoided being anywhere near Dad...I couldn't even look at him.

I fixed all my own meals when I was sure they were busy elsewhere, left early to run in the mornings, stayed at school as long as possible, ran in the evenings, and stayed in my room with my door shut and my headphones on when I was at home.

Mom never even noticed, as preoccupied as she was with trying to keep up with everything that she had to do, but the few times that my eyes accidentally met dad's eyes, I knew that he knew exactly what I was doing, and he didn't like it.

I guess what it boiled down to was that I just couldn't accept that the man in the wheelchair was really my dad. My dad was a runner, a coach, a PE teacher. He was strong and healthy. He was just so...alive!

That lump of humanity sitting in that wheelchair was not him! It was all a mistake; none of it was really happening to me...to us. Not my dad! It had to be some sort of mistake, or a nightmare. That was it. I just needed to wake up. Not my dad! Things like that happened to other people, not to me, not to my family!

According to the pamphlet my school counselor Mrs. Blackstone had given me, I was in denial...the first stage of the five stages of grief. Her idea of counseling was to hand out a bunch of literature and then dismiss the student with a wave of her hand and a, "Let me know if you have any questions" parting line. In her defense, it wasn't really her fault. From what I had seen through the years, school counselors were there to test and schedule, which they did very well, not to handle emotionally out of control teenagers.

On a positive note, she had given me a list. I liked lists. They were a nice, neat, orderly way to compartmentalize things.

Although I didn't want to give up the life I was living in the lovely land of denial, my parents rather forced my hand.

Dear Diary,

Got a handicapped van today; I hate driving it.

CeeCee

Being only eight years old when I began writing in my diary, plus the fact that my participation was extremely sporadic, I never thought about dating any of my entries. Looking back, though, I suppose I could pinpoint fairly accurately the week that anger became my predominant emotion kicking denial to the back burner...the last week of June in between my sophomore and junior years, with three weeks of summer already gone.

I tried to stay out of the house as much as possible, spending most of my time at the library or out running; so much so that even my mom began to notice. There wasn't much that my parents could do about it, so they just let it slide. The only thing they did require, since it was summer and I was out of school, was for me to drive them to Dad's doctor appointments. I had been excited about having my license...until then.

At first, people from the church where we attended would take turns picking Mom and Dad up and driving them to his appointments. Getting my dad from one place to another was not easy, even before the wheelchair, but once he became so incapacitated that he needed a wheelchair full-time, it became even more difficult.

Having a general idea of our financial situation, the people at church decided to help us out with our dilemma. Since one of the members owned a used car lot, he had connections and managed to find a used handicapped van at a hugely discounted price. The van was 20 years old, had a raised roof, a hydraulic wheelchair lift that came out the side doors and down to the ground, and it was painted a hideously conspicuous shade of bright blue.

I wasn't sure which I hated worse, driving that thing, or being in an enclosed space with the man in the wheelchair. Hmm, the pamphlet hadn't said anything about being angry and in denial at the same time. I was beginning to wonder just how accurate that list was.

So that was the week my anger began in earnest. I don't know if that's what started it, but I do know that was when it started.

I hated all of it. I hated my parents for making me participate and I hated them for making me hate them. I hadn't asked for any of it. I hadn't signed up for it. I didn't want anything to do with it. That wasn't my life!

People always talked about suffering in silence like it was a very brave and noble thing, but sometimes silence can be very loud and clear. I was sure my parents knew exactly how I felt about having to drive them anywhere. I'd never been an overly vocal person, preferring to keep most of my thoughts to myself, but I knew they could tell what I was thinking, I wanted them to know—my body language was practically screaming it at them—and that was just the start.

On Sunday mornings, I flatly refused to go to church. I had been going to church every stinkin' Sunday since before I could remember...I had done my part, praying hard, hoping against hope, with absolutely no results.

If God was up there, He wasn't listening to me. Ah, finally, somewhere I could direct my anger. It was God's fault. I yelled at God in my mind over and over. How could He do something like that? Was He even up there? Maybe there was no God, no all-powerful supreme being, watching over all of us. Maybe it was a joke, a hoax, and someone was having a laugh at my expense.

Or maybe, if there really was a God, He was the one playing tricks on us. He couldn't possibly care about any of us or He wouldn't have let it happen. What kind of God was He, anyway? There was no rhyme or reason to anything in the world He created. The good people got sick and died, and the bad people did whatever they wanted and got away with it.

My anger knew no bounds. Every time I heard someone saying, "God's will be done" or "it's in God's hands" or "God is good," I felt like throwing, hitting, or kicking something; Any type of explosion would surely help, because keeping everything all bottled up inside of me was excruciating.

The darkness inside of me overwhelmed me, coloring everything. I couldn't find any light to help me figure out what direction to turn. It all looked the same...black, dark, everything closing in on me. I wanted to scream and cry and...escape. Mostly I yearned for escape; I just couldn't find an exit. I ran towards every little bit of light and hope, fast and furiously, only to discover it had either disappeared or been an illusion. I had finally given up, lost all hope of ever escaping. I felt trapped...and I was incredibly angry.

My parents decided after a few months of watching me walk around like a thundercloud, that I needed help.

Go figure...

On the surface, I didn't think I was any worse than most other teenagers. I didn't have any good friends at school, but I kind of hung out with other members of the track team at lunch, and from what I could gather of their behavior towards their parents, I was right on target for being a normal teenager. Sure, I was suddenly grouchy all the time when before I had been pretty easy-going and even-tempered, but grouchy seemed to be a general requirement for a teenager.

Deciding that it was more than just the normal teenage hormonal thing, my parents suggested getting "help," but I immediately rejected it. After the "first date" incident, they decided to take matters into their own hands, making me an appointment with the counselor without telling me about it—well, mom made the appointment—and then forcing me into going.

A fat lot of good that had done, I thought angrily.

Well, at least I had my pamphlet. I was beginning to doubt the pamphlet's accuracy, but it was a list, and I loved lists.

Thinking about the "first date" incident sent me once more flipping back thru the diary. I realized I had missed one of my more excited entries—another good one—at the end of my 8th grade year, the summer before I was to start my new school.

Dear Diary,

Mark is going to teach me self-defense. Mom said it was ok.

CeeCee

I smiled slightly as I recalled Mark's concern that I was about to become a freshman in high school while he was leaving home to attend college. He wanted to make sure I could defend myself against any unwanted advances.

He had been taking karate lessons since he was 10 years old, and decided that he would teach me self-defense after promising our parents that he would only teach me how to defend, not attack. They didn't want their little girl to become a killing machine, I suppose.

Of course, they didn't realize once I started learning I would like it so much that I would continue teaching myself with whatever material I could find...dangerous.

I knew I wasn't ever going to need to fight off a passionately inflamed male so it really amused me that anyone would think it was that important for me to know self-defense. However, since I had always wanted to take karate and my parents wouldn't let me, I was determined to learn anything and everything Mark was willing to teach.

It was lots of fun. Mark always made everything fun. I missed him so much.

Thumbing forward thru the pages again, I found the next entry leading up to the "date incident," another good one. I was on a roll.

Dear Diary,

Craig Telson asked me to the homecoming dance. Just...WOW!

CeeCee

I had my first date the fall of my junior year.

With the District cross-country meet just two weeks away, I'd begun spending extra time in the school weight room. I happened to be lifting weights the day Craig Telson and some of his football buddies were in there pumping iron and talking about the upcoming Homecoming dance the following weekend.

I used to get so excited back home during that time of the year.

The football games were thrilling because Dad would let me stand on the sidelines, as long as I stayed out of trouble, however since Dad's illness I had avoided anything to do with football like it was the plague.

Lost in my own thoughts while I was bench-pressing, I didn't notice right away that Craig was suddenly standing next to me. Startled, I almost dropped the bar. He grabbed it, laughing, and helped me steady it again.

"Thanks," I said a little breathlessly.

"You know you're supposed to have a spotter, right?" he asked sternly.

"Yeah, but none of the other girls were available."

I was strangely embarrassed for some reason I couldn't quite fathom, so I tried to avoid his eyes.

"Well, I'm not a girl, but will I do?" he asked confident that I wouldn't turn him down.

"Th...that's ok," I stammered, "I was just finishing up anyway."

I carefully put the bar back on its stand, got up from the bench, and picked up my backpack.

"Wait...you're CeeCee right?"

I nodded, having no idea why the senior quarterback of the football team would know my name—even though I paid no attention to football in general, I would have been hard put to find anyone who didn't know who he was—as I was basically a 'nobody'.

"My girlfriend and I split up," he seemed to assume that I would know him—after all who didn't—and all about him and his girlfriend, "so I was hoping you would go to the dance with me."

"The Homecoming Dance...?" I asked in amazement.

"That's the one," he replied coolly.

"Um...I'm not a very good dancer," I hedged, not sure why he was asking me.

Was it just a joke...with me as the punch line? Something he and his buddies could laugh about once I said yes. I wasn't sure what to do, how to act. Nothing like that had ever happened to me before.

"That's ok. I'm not much into dancing myself. We could have fun together," he said coaxingly. "Come on, say yes. You know you want to."

That was the problem, I did want to...badly.

Still, I had grown cynical since the incident with Serena...I quickly shied away from that memory...and I knew there were other girls still available that were a lot more attractive than I was...like pretty much everyone else...so why was he asking me?

Darn it...why did I have to analyze everything to death?

"I don't think it's a good idea," I said reluctantly.

"Please," he turned to pleading mixed in with the coaxing, "like I said, I just got dumped, and I'm feeling a little low. You seem like a really nice girl, I just thought you could take my mind off of...things."

I began to feel badly for him, and issued a cautious "okay". I was determined to control myself; he simply hadn't wanted to go to the dance alone, and I happened to be in the right place at the right time.

I knew that was all it was, but, despite all of my good intentions, I was excited. I never thought any guy would be interested in someone so very ordinary, especially a guy who was so popular.

My mom was thrilled. She had a few dresses that she used to wear on special occasions with my dad when he was "normal," and she and I worked every evening for a week, with Dad looking on, to redo one of them...just enough to transform it into something a teenager would wear to a dance.

She was 2 inches shorter, but since the trend was "above the knee," it was the perfect length, and once Mom adjusted the side seams to accommodate my hips, looked like it had been tailor-made for me. My mom was a genius with a needle and thread, which was a good thing since, with my dad no longer able to work and my brother in college, Mom's teaching salary was all we had.

Thankfully, we were able to splurge on shoes since my old church shoes no longer fit well. Granted we bought them from a discount store, but I was happy.

The night of the dance was a perfect fall evening. I was so excited and so very nervous. My redone dress had spaghetti straps, a fitted bodice, and a straight skirt with one slit on the right side.

I had a momentary twinge of sadness as I remembered Mom wearing the same dress...the same, yet different. The look in Dad's eyes as they had rested on her...it was as if no one else existed for him. I felt an unnamed longing, an ache, deep inside of me at the memory.

By the time my mom had my hair curled and helped me with a little bit of her makeup, I didn't even know myself in the mirror. I felt almost pretty. Everything was perfect and wonderful and so very cool!

Craig Telson arrived at the front door promptly at six in order to take me out to eat before the dance at eight. Thankfully, Craig was a good 3 inches taller than I was, because my new shoes had just a little bit of a high heel. I wished I'd had time to break them in, they were a tad uncomfortable, but since it was just one night, I was sure they would be fine.

Craig wore a black tux, and his sandy blonde hair was slicked back and perfect. He wasn't the best looking guy in school, but he was handsome enough in his own way.

His nose was a little bit crooked, probably broken playing football, and he didn't smile much which gave him a rather intense look. I decided that meant that he was very serious and mature for his age.

I was such a good judge of character: NOT!

We rode in a rented limo with two other couples. Craig's introduction was a tad bit lop-sided. His "This is CeeCee" made it clear to me that I was supposed to know all of the others. If I were a "normal" teenager, I would have. I hated not being "normal".

By paying close attention, I was able to determine that the two guys' names were Philip and Mike, and they were on the football team with Craig. Philip was there with Cindy, I was fairly certain I had seen her flitting around school in a cheerleading outfit, and Mike was there with Courtney South. I knew her at once because she and her campaign committee had plastered her face all over the school while running for student body president the previous year.

I didn't know anything about their backgrounds, but I did know that Craig's parents were wealthy. His father ran the bank where we did all of our banking, so renting a limo was no big deal for Craig. It was a big deal for me.

I had no idea getting into a limo was an art form, and I felt like the klutz of the year. At least they didn't laugh at me too much when I literally fell in. I watched the other girls get out when we got to the restaurant and tried to copy them, but without much success.

Once in the restaurant, I silently thanked my mom for all of the training she had forced upon me while I was young. I had endlessly complained about having to learn how to set a formal table and what fork to use—after all, who needs more than one—but all of that saved me from major embarrassment.

I could feel the other girls' eyes on me, watching to see if I would make a mistake and humiliate myself, but unlike in the limo, the restaurant was familiar territory. Craig nodded his head approvingly at me as I chose the correct flatware every time...and I glowed.

After we ate, we headed to the dance. Again, I tried to copy the other girls as they "entered" the limo. As I awkwardly collapsed into my seat once more, I decided I would never be any good at it. I only had the one night to learn, and it was highly unlikely that I would ever get another opportunity to practice.

The high school gym was decorated so heavily that if I had not known it was the gym, I wouldn't have recognized it. There was a disco ball in the middle of the huge ceiling throwing sparkly lights on all of us, and streamers hanging from the rafters stretched in every direction. Balloons were everywhere.

All of a sudden, I was having visions of a book that I had read about a girl and a prom that hadn't ended well. When it came out as a movie, I had refused to go see it. The book alone scared me silly.

I shuddered, hoping I wasn't experiencing psychic vibes.

Craig was every girl's dream date. He never left my side, except to get me more punch, which I didn't like very much, so I kept pouring it into the trash can whenever he wasn't looking.

He danced with me all night—well swayed is really a more fitting description...I wasn't much of a dancer—never even looking at another girl, and I was in hog heaven.

We stayed until about eleven, and one of the other guys, I think it was Philip, suggested we all go somewhere and continue the party. I didn't want to leave the dance, but everyone else did, so I finally gave in and agreed.

We ended up at Craig's house and it looked like a mansion to me.

The limo pulled up to the front door and Craig told the driver to wait there. He then led us through the house to the back where there was a swimming pool and hot tub.

Craig, saying he would be right back, disappeared into the house. When I turned around the other four were gone, too.

I heard voices coming from a small building standing just off from the pool area and I realized they were changing into swimsuits. I didn't know what to do; no one had mentioned bringing a suit.

Glancing around, I noticed a patio table with chairs, so I pulled one out and sat down. It was a little chilly, so I wasn't surprised when they all came out in white terry cloth robes. I watched them, idly wondering where Craig was, as they reached the edge of the pool and started disrobing.

My face was suddenly red hot with embarrassment. They hadn't told me to bring a swimsuit because none of them were wearing one!

Quickly averting my face, I heard them getting into the pool, laughing and splashing each other.

About that time, Craig came out of the house. He, too, was dressed in a robe and was pushing a serving cart filled with snacks and beer.

Oh my gosh! I thought panicked, what have I gotten myself into?

Craig was clearly confused when he saw that I was sitting there still fully clothed.

"CeeCee, there's a robe in there for you, too. Go ahead and change, I'll wait for you."

You have got to be kiddin' me! I thought wildly.

Aloud all I said was, "That's ok; I'm good."

Walking over to me, Craig pulled me out of the chair and wrapped his arms around me.

"Come on, CeeCee, loosen up. There is nothing to be embarrassed about...you have an awesome body. That's the first thing I notice about you in the weight room the other day."

His hands began roaming freely, and I started to panic.

"No, I can't," I refused, trying to stop his hands without much success.

"It's no big deal, I promise. We won't do anything you're uncomfortable with," he assured me.

Hello, what planet are you from? I am uncomfortable just being here, I wanted to scream at him.

Don't panic, stay calm, I told myself sternly, but I must not have been listening as my alarm grew.

"I'm sorry, but I just can't," despite my efforts to stay calm, that last word came out as a squeak.

"We're just going for a swim," his voice was coaxing, "What's wrong with that?"

What...did he want a list?

Number 1: I was already self-conscious enough fully clothed

Number 2: I was raised to believe you "save it for marriage"

Number 3: I wasn't about to take off my clothes in front of a guy I had only known for a few days even if he wasn't expecting anything else to happen, which I seriously doubted.

"I just can't," I repeated desperately.

I was only verbose in my head. Aloud, I was barely more than monosyllabic.

I could see that he was losing patience.

"How could anyone drink as much punch as you did and still be this uptight?" he asked angrily.

"Punch...?" I asked in confusion. "What about the punch?"

"Oh come on! You can't be for real. Don't tell me you didn't know the punch was spiked. You were downing it like there was no tomorrow."

I had never tasted alcohol before, so I had no clue that's why I didn't like the punch, but it was clear to me that Craig had known all along exactly what was in it. He obviously, however, had no idea that I had dumped most of it in the trashcan whenever he wasn't looking, and so expected me to be rip-roaring drunk by that point.

As much as I tried to stop them, tears welled up in my eyes, and threatened to spill over. I suddenly couldn't talk around the lump in my throat.

Seeing the tears, and misinterpreting them as a sign of weakening, Craig changed his approach. He was nothing if not persistent. His hold on me softened into an innocent hug, smoothing my hair with one hand and gently squeezing my waist with the other, while he reassured me that it was all okay, no big deal; I didn't have to do anything I didn't want to do.

After a few seconds, he moved smoothly to neck nibbling, and from there proceeded straight to the zipper in the back of my dress. I had relaxed thinking maybe things could work out after all...more fool me.

As soon as I heard and felt the zipper go, I yelled "NO" and began struggling in earnest, trying to push him away. I'd had enough. I could feel the anger building up inside of me.

This is why I'm here? I fumed silently. His girlfriend dumped him, and he isn't getting any?

He just wanted to use me. He had no clue about who I was, and couldn't care less. I just happened to be the right gender and body type. I was nothing to him.

At that moment, every stinking life-changing event that had ever happened to me, the unfairness of it all, just overwhelmed me, and I wanted to hurt someone. No, correction; I wanted to hurt Craig. He represented every helpless, frustrated, out of control feeling that I had experienced over the last two years.

Someone should pay; Craig would do.

In my defense, I did try to give him fair warning that I would have to hurt him, but he just laughed.

He was holding my body too tightly against his to be able to use any of the fairly innocuous things that Mark had taught me, like stomping on his foot with my heel, or kneeing him in the groin so I had to resort to more violent methods.

At least, that was what I told myself anyway...the stark truth was that those were way too tame for the way I was feeling by that point.

Leaning my upper body as far away from him as possible, I felt the sudden urge to break something, which I did.

Craig was definitely a free bleeder. In my defense, it really did look like he had already broken his nose at least one other time, most likely playing football, so it wasn't like any great shock to his system or to his looks to have it broken again.

I left him, holding his bloody nose, and calling me all manner of names, out by the swimming pool.

Running through the house, holding my partially unzipped dress up with both hands, I only had one conscious thought; I have to get out of here. If the other two decided to help Craig, I would never be able to fight them all off. I made the front door, yanked it open, and headed down the driveway. I could feel the stare of the chauffeur as I sped past him.

The straight skirt of my dress was hindering my stride, it only had a small slit up one side so, at the end of the driveway, I decided to risk stopping to fix the problem.

Since the guys were all in their birthday suits, immediate pursuit seemed highly unlikely. I managed to zip up my dress and grabbing the two pieces of material on each side of the slit, I pulled it apart viciously.

That should do it, I thought with satisfaction.

I seriously pondered taking off my shoes, the heels were starting to annoy, but I was afraid I would step on something dangerous in the dark.

What I wouldn't give for a pair of running shoes right about now; I thought wistfully.

It took me about an hour to find my way home.

My parents were in their bedroom when I arrived, and Mom got to the bedroom door just as I was heading upstairs. I waved and whispered "Night" just loud enough for her to hear. I knew she would want to know everything, but I was in no shape to talk to anyone.

I was safe once I reached my room, and gave way to the shaking and crying that I had valiantly fought off on the long trip home. Dad was usually asleep by ten, and Mom never left him alone, so I knew no one would be coming to check on me.

I decided against telling them anything, thinking that Craig would never admit that a girl had injured him, but the next entry reminded me of why that had been a poor decision.

Dear Diary,

Craig's parents called.

CeeCee

CeeCee Wilson: The Friendless and Dateless Wonder!

I sounded like a freak show at the circus. I felt like one, too. You would think that people would understand that a girl should defend herself when being assaulted, however, the story that circulated around school made me into the villain instead of the victim.

Apparently, I was young, innocent, scared, and had, in a blind panic, broken Craig's nose when he tried to kiss me goodnight. That was news to me.

It made perfect sense that no one would believe me, given the facts:

1. He was the star quarterback of the football team.

2. It was five against one, since his friends backed his version of the story.

3. He was the one that ended up with a profusely bleeding nose.

My major mistake was in not telling my parents right away, thinking I could spare them. Craig's parents had no such inhibitions. The threatening phone call that followed made it clear to Mom that they were considering pressing charges and possibly even a civil suit.

If I had told Mom and Dad my version of the events that night right away I might have stood a chance of them believing me but, with my track record, they would assume that I had let my anger outweigh my common sense, and was too ashamed to own up to it.

Arguing with them about it wasn't going to get us anywhere, but I was fully committed to making sure that Craig and his parents weren't going to get away with making me into a criminal, or suing my parents. I wasn't going to take that lying down...pun definitely intended.

After agonizing for a couple of days over what to do, I decided I would confront Craig in the cafeteria in front of as many witnesses as possible. I made no secret of my destination...straight for Craig's table. I knew exactly where he would be, the same table he and his cronies always occupied at lunch.

As I made my way over to him, I could hear the murmurs beginning; I ignored them. I had already heard it all: Amazon woman, She-Ra Princess of Power, Wonder Woman...they weren't even very original.

Stopping directly in front Craig, daring him to maintain eye contact, I leaned over, placed both hands on the table between us and came straight to the point.

"My legal advisor suggested that I demand a polygraph, you know what that is right, a lie detector test, if your parents continue to pursue their current course of action."

I paused a little, presumably for dramatic effect, but in reality it was because I needed to take a deep breath in order to remain calm. I had decided to use every highfalutin' phrase I had ever seen, heard or read to make myself more convincing.

"We have absolutely no doubts about who will pass that test and who will fail it. I would think about that very carefully if I were you. Right now, I'm the only one that knows you and your 'witnesses' for the liars that you are, but after that test..." I straightened, and added, "Well, I think you get the picture."

I allowed myself a small smug smile. Craig might have had enough confidence in his own ability to pass a polygraph, but I seriously doubted he would want to place his suddenly precariously balanced future in the hands of someone else, especially someone as ditzy as Cindy the Cheerleader.

Turning away, I walked as calmly and slowly as I could manage over to the vending machines, picked out something to eat and drink, having absolutely no idea what I was buying, made my way over to an empty table, and proceeded to force myself to eat every bite.

I was glad I'd thought to buy a drink, because in order to get the food past the lump in my throat, I had to wash it all down with copious amounts of liquid.

I needed to appear totally under control in order for my plan to work. It had to work. I had a legal advisor all right, but it wasn't a lawyer; my 'legal advisor' was a book. Story of my life, I'd read about it in a book. Sticking to books was probably the safest way for me to live.

It was a monstrously huge bluff but thankfully, it worked. I wasn't sure which part of what I said convinced Craig to give up or what exactly he told his parents in order to stop the lawsuits, but I honestly didn't care. Craig was a jerk. I planned to forget he even existed.

The next week made forgetting him extremely difficult. For the first time since I could remember, I had to cut back on my running schedule. The blisters I had developed from running in my new high heels made any type of movement extremely painful. Our district cross-country meet was the following weekend and, needless to say, I didn't perform well. Stupid football jock!

The next entry almost made everything else worth it...almost.

Dear Diary,

Felicia Howell is my new best friend.

CeeCee

One positive thing resulted from the incident; Felicia Howell and I became good friends...best friends...because of it. That was a very good thing, since no one else at school would even talk to me any longer. As I was sitting alone that day, trying to force down the vending machine "food," Felicia simply sat down at my table and introduced herself.

She, too, had been burned by Craig. The year before, because she had rejected Craig's "advances," he and his buddies had spread rumors that she was "easy" with hints of prostitution involved. It had escalated to the point where the administration had become involved. Due to the pressure from the other cheerleaders' parents, Felicia finally quit the cheerleading squad.

UGH! Slamming my diary shut disgustedly, I jumped up from my chair and stalked over to the window. I stared blankly at the street below. Life was so stinkin' unfair. The good got shafted, and the bad...

Where is the justice? I sighed.

Why did I continually insist on searching for explanations, desperate that everything should make sense, when obviously nothing did?

Felicia was so good for me. She never dwelt on things if she could help it. Even though she was upset about her predicament, it made me angrier than it did her. That wasn't unusual...I was the angriest person on the planet.

We were total opposites in most ways: Vivacious vs. solemn, outgoing vs. loner, optimist vs. pessimist, trusting vs. cynical, beautiful name vs. cow name.

Felicia, now that was a name.

It was no wonder that she usually had a smile on her face. She loved life, always looking on the "bright side". She was beautiful on the outside, also. She had the naturally blonde hair that I had always wanted, the beautiful blue eyes, and, ever since she was fifteen years old, the hourglass figure; definitely blessed in ways I never would be.

At 5'5" she wasn't too short, or too tall...she was just right and with such nice even features even her freckles were cute. Truly, having her for a best friend was the one bright spot in my life.

Felicia insisted that there were things about me that she envied, but I couldn't see it, assuming she was just saying that to cheer me up. There were so many things that I hated...like my height. She was always trying to make me feel better about that telling me I could be a model, what a laugh, but at 5'8," the only positive thing I could say about it was I would always be able to see who was going bald before anyone else did. Speaking of hair, or the lack thereof, I was pretty much gypped there, too. There wasn't much I could do with my thick, straight brown hair other than put it in a ponytail 24/7, which was exactly what I did.

I had my dad's nose, which of course looked great on him, on me, not so much. It was a very nice, straight, narrow nose; there was just too much of it. Between my nose and my height, the phrase looking down my nose at someone took on a whole new meaning. I was also very tired of the nicknames I seemed to have attracted ever since I had hit my growing spurt in junior high, like string bean and stick woman.

My one redeeming quality...my eyes....they were bright green, almost peridot, my birthstone, and my lashes were very thick and dark, which were the only things of which Felicia could possibly be jealous.

Being blonde, her lashes were very light in color, and she was never without her mascara close by, lamenting her "washed out" look. I would never need any, not that I ever wore makeup, except that one time... as it seemed like such a waste of time to put it on and have it all melt off when I was out running.

Sighing heavily as I drug myself back to the present, I walked back over to my desk, pulled out the right hand drawer, and put my diary back in its customary place.

I missed Felicia terribly. Every summer she and her parents took the whole summer off to have a family vacation. Her dad was an author and her mom an artist so they were on their own schedule. She wouldn't be back until the week before school was to start...our senior year.

Big whoop I thought sarcastically.

My parents were probably ready and waiting for me downstairs. I hated Dad's doctor appointments.

Picking up my key ring, I locked the desk drawer. I couldn't stall any longer...time to leave.

Resignedly, I turned around, picked up my backpack, and headed to the stairs.

Chapter 2

Dear Diary,

I've been a jerk.

CeeCee

"I know you don't like driving the van," Mom began as soon as I got downstairs, "so what if I drive today and you sit with your dad."

"I'd rather drive," I replied curtly.

As much as I hated driving that thing, I would rather drive than have to sit in the passenger seat and try to avoid the eyes of the man in the wheelchair. Since all of the seats, other than the two in the front, had been taken out of the van in order to accommodate the hydraulic lift and the fasteners in the floor for the wheelchair to ride securely, the van had been modified so that the front passenger seat was facing the rear of the vehicle.

Mom liked that because she could sit facing Dad the whole time, communicating with him; I hated it for the same reason.

He always looked at me so intently, as if he needed to tell me something, and it made me uncomfortable. Whatever it was, I was sure I didn't want to know.

Perhaps I was in the anger stage, but I wasn't totally through with denial yet. I could barely handle my own thoughts and emotions, much less anyone else's. I had my doubts as to whether I would ever be "through" with any of those five stages; I didn't care what the pamphlet said. I hated messy lists and that one was getting messier by the minute.

Grabbing the handles of Dad's wheelchair before Mom could reply, I headed him out the door. We had some modifications done to the front porch in order to have a ramp for the wheelchair, but it was fairly steep since there hadn't been enough room for the correct pitch. It had taken some doing, and quite a bit of extra money, but we were finally able to find someone who would build what we needed as opposed to what the city required.

The fact that the ramp was so steep, as well as my being so much stronger than my mom, gave me a built-in excuse to be the one behind the wheelchair pushing it, allowing me to avoid the dreaded eye contact once again.

I always had a reason for my seemingly inconsistent behavior.

After wheeling him onto the lift, I left him with Mom, and walked around to the driver side of the van. Mom finished loading Dad into the van, while I spent quality time adjusting my seat and mirrors, especially the rearview mirror. Didn't want to accidentally see anything I was working so hard to avoid.

Traffic was light, so we made the appointment in good time. While Mom unloaded Dad, I reached into my backpack and pulled out my MP3 player. Putting on my headphones, I cranked the music up as loud as it would go. That was my stop, all that I was required to do; I was done.

I would never—under any circumstances—go into one of Dad's appointments.

As soon as they were clear of the van, I locked the doors, reclined my seat, and tried to concentrate on nothing but the music. My only two musical requirements were loud and pointless. Anything else would necessitate thought, which I wanted to avoid at all costs. The '70s had been good for that, and had been my music of choice for quite a while.

My dad had kept some of the LPs and eight tracks from the '70s that he'd acquired while he was in junior high and high school, and once I figured out what they were, I kind of got hooked on some of the singing groups from that decade.

It was a big joke between my parents that Dad was a packrat, and kept tons of stuff from his childhood. My mom's philosophy was the total opposite; if it wasn't being used then throw it out, give it away, or burn it, depending on what it was of course.

They had come to an agreement, which pleased me greatly; for every eight track that Dad agreed to throw out, Mom would replace it with the CD. He flatly refused to give up any of his LP's, but eight tracks tended to ruin eventually on their own, so he wasn't really losing anything by agreeing to throw them away. I was excited to be able to use the CD's on our computer in order to put them on my MP3 player.

I was in between songs when I heard a strange beeping sound. Taking off my headphones, I quickly sat up and looked around trying to identify it. The noise seemed to be coming from outside the van and to my left.

Two spaces over, a white minivan, also parked in a handicapped spot, was beeping as the tailgate opened all by itself. I felt a twinge of envy as I took in the sleek, new look of the van compared to our old monstrosity.

Fascinated, I watched as a man and a woman emerged from the front seats, and the sliding passenger doors rolled back automatically revealing a teenager and a young girl.

Now that's a cool van, I thought wistfully.

The man moved to the back of the van and began unloading a wheelchair while the woman, who had been driving, came around to his side of the van presumably to help the young girl.

The van began beeping again as the tailgate closed slowly and the man brought the wheelchair to a stop as he reached the woman. From inside the van, the teenager was handing something to the woman, who in turn handed it to the man. It was some sort of oxygen container, connected by some clear tubing to the young girl who was still in the van.

The man hung the oxygen thing on the wheelchair by the shoulder strap. The woman moved out of the way while he lifted the young girl and gently placed her in the wheelchair.

The tubing appeared to be attached to her throat. She had one of those trach things the doctor had told us Dad might need sometime in the future in order for him to breath.

My stomach felt funny, but I couldn't tear my eyes away.

Peering through the open door of the van, I could see the teenager's door on the far side sliding slowly shut. I wondered grimly if, like me she was done for the day, having had enough.

I was surprised to see her coming around the van to stand by the wheelchair, a book in one hand and a cup with a lid in the other. The teenager handed the cup she was carrying to the young girl who smiled her thanks. The teenager lovingly smiled back.

While the man was buckling the seatbelt on the wheelchair, the woman reached back into the van and brought out a big, dark blue bag. He added that to the back of the wheelchair, hanging it on the handles and then both adults began carefully rearranging the oxygen tubing between it and the back of the wheelchair. The oxygen tubing came loose from the little girl's neck while the man and woman were adjusting it, and fell to the ground unnoticed by the parents.

Panicked, I quickly debated whether to roll down my window to tell them about the run-away tubing, when I saw that the older girl had seen the same thing I had. Handing her book to the younger girl to hold, she took the end of the tubing that had come loose and gently reattached it to the little girl, calmly taking her book back when she was done.

How can she do that, touch that? I wondered in awe. Didn't she want to run screaming from them in horror?

Totally unaware of what had just happened, the woman reached into the van once again, hauling out a huge maroon bag, handing it to the older girl who took it without complaint. I was angry for the teenaged girl who looked to be only a couple of years younger than I was. Hadn't she done enough? There were two of them, two adults, why were they making her do any of that?

The man and the two girls moved toward the sidewalk while the woman pushed a button on her remote closing the sliding door. A couple more beeps locked the van and they were all moving as one on the sidewalk in front of me towards the hospital.

Watching them, I felt like I was watching a well-rehearsed play; it was obvious they had done the same thing many times before.

The teenager said something and they all laughed together, even the child in the wheelchair, the picture of a happy family.

I searched their faces desperately as they passed no more than five feet in front of me, looking for the signs of stress, anger, and resentment that I knew must be there, especially in the teenager. I found none.

How could that be?

The child had probably been in a wheelchair her whole life with no hope of ever getting rid of it, plus a lot of other medical problems, yet they could actually laugh. At least Dad had been normal for most of my life; at least I had that. What did they have? They were acting like it was all normal, like she was normal.

That was not normal!

My parents returned after about an hour, an hour I spent pondering what I had witnessed earlier, uncharacteristically forgetting all about my MP3 player.

I watched dispassionately, as my mother wheeled my dad towards the van. I hadn't noticed before that Mom was looking tired...exhausted actually...and had lost weight. She used to have the same happy laugh and vivaciousness I had seen in the woman's face.

My dad used to be able to lift heavier things than a wheelchair without batting an eyelash and suddenly he couldn't even lift himself out of a wheelchair. I hadn't seriously looked at either of my parents in a long time.

Mom had always been...curvaceous was the word that sprung to mind...and at 5'6" and around 130 pounds, she had the weight distributed in all of the right places. No one would have guessed that she was over forty years old.

It irked me that I took more after my dad than my mom. Instead of Mom's blonde hair, I had gotten Dad's brown hair. Instead of Mom's curves...Dad's angles. The fact that I inherited Dad's green eyes was some compensation. Mark was the one who had inherited Mom's gorgeous blue-eyed blondeness. What a waste. He didn't care what he looked like; not like I did. I guess it was a girl thing.

Looking at Mom, I could see that her face was thinner, and her clothes were a little baggy. She was still beautiful, but instead of her usual healthy glow, she was pale and definitely wearing more make-up than was normal. Hiding dark circles under her eyes maybe. I felt an uncomfortable pang of conscience.

Mom had been debating about whether to get a summer job as soon as school was out to bring in extra money, but decided to stay home with Dad all day and save the money that she insisted on paying Mrs. Murray during the school year. Mrs. Murray told Mom she was fine with whatever we needed to do, she would have helped us out for free if Mom had allowed it.

I guess I had been so busy avoiding Dad that I hadn't been paying any attention to Mom. She looked so...sort of fragile. She had never been the robust athletic type like the rest of us, but she had always looked so animated and alive. The contrast between her and the woman from the other van was marked.

How had I missed a change that big?

Since she was with my dad most of the time, avoiding him was the same as avoiding her.

I felt like a rat; a sewer rat; a selfish, uncaring, insensitive, irresponsible, sewer rat.

I stuffed my headphones and MP3 player into my backpack, got out of the van, and helped Mom maneuver the wheelchair onto the lift. When mom smiled at me, grateful and weary at the same time, I decided I was lower than low.

How could I not have seen how very worn out my mother was becoming. She was always so bright and cheerful for everybody. I had never even seen her shed a tear over Dad's predicament, although, knowing how much she loved him, I suspected that the tears were close at all times. I supposed that she felt like she had to be strong for all of us. I sure hadn't been any help to her.

"Mom...um..." I hesitated "if you want to drive, I'll sit with Dad," I offered.

Surprised but pleased, Mom smiled gently at me and said, "I think your dad would like that."

I handed her the keys and opened the passenger door, while mom walked around to the other side of the van.

"So, uh, how did the...you know...appointment go?" I asked tentatively, as Mom started the van.

"It was good," Mom replied. "The doctor decided to change up some of his meds, try something new."

"Oh, okay...that sounds good."

I wasn't quite sure how to reply so I just stuck with a generic answer. I was out of practice making conversation, not that I had ever been any good at it to begin with.

I turned around to look at Dad to make sure he was okay, and I saw something that just about did me in. There were huge tears welling up in his eyes.

For a second, I thought he was in pain, that something we had done while helping him into the van had hurt him. Never having helped before, I hadn't really known what I was doing.

I was about to panic and yell for Mom to look, but then I noticed his eye movements. He almost looked like he was watching a tennis match. His eyes were slowly moving back and forth between Mom and me, as if he needed me to understand something, something important. I watched uncomprehendingly until it dawned on me that I was the reason for the tears...it was something I had done.

Reviewing the past few minutes frantically in my mind, trying to figure out what I had done or, more likely in my case, what I hadn't done that I should have, I drew a blank. What could I have done so wrong while I was helping Mom...what?

That was when it hit me, it wasn't something I had done wrong that was causing the tears...it was something I had done right for once. I had finally done something for my parents without being asked.

Glancing back at Dad again, and seeing the gentle, loving look in his eyes, I suddenly saw quite a few things in a different light. How stupidly selfish could I be? I did one semi-kind-of-nice thing for my mom, and my dad was eternally grateful. I had made him cry. How sick was that?

How in the world, could they have put up with me for so long, living in my own little world ignoring...no...even worse...going out of my way to make sure they knew I was ignoring everything and everybody but myself.

The difference between me and the helpful teenager from the white van was like night and day.

Selfish...selfish...selfish...I couldn't even find the words to describe how horrible I had been. The most galling part was that my parents didn't blame me.

They should have.

Maybe not in the beginning, but after I'd had time to assimilate what was happening, I should have been held accountable for my behavior. They loved me, and were hurting for me too much to do anything other than try to make things easier for me.

Suddenly, I could see everything through Dad's eyes. With his personality, that of a giver...a protector...he would have a hard time accepting all of the things other people were doing for him...especially my mom.

He had always been the one to take care of her, to shield her from anything that could possibly hurt her, and he was the reason she was hurting. That had to be killing him. I knew without a doubt that she was the most important person in his life...knew that he would have done anything for her.

And there he was, having to accept all kinds of help...not only from my mom, but from other people.

Besides the caring, selfless devotion of my mother, there was the hard-working, never complaining attitude of my brother, who would have, at a moments notice, dropped out of college and come home to help us if my parents would have let him.

On top of that, there were the kind, generous people at church; our sweet neighbor, Mrs. Murray...the list of wonderful people was unending.

Guess what. I wasn't on it.

No problem accepting anything from me, I wasn't giving.

With startling clarity, I realized that my dad was not worried or upset about the way I was treating him, his only concern was how my behavior affected my mother. He understood how hard it was for me to see what he had become, and I knew he didn't blame me for feeling the way I did, but it pained him to see how much my behavior had been hurting my mother.

All of that made me realize that I had been blaming my parents for the twist my life had taken, as if it was their fault. Talk about unfair. Instead of helping the situation, I had made it a hundred times worse.

All of that flashed through my mind, and I saw recognition in Dad's eyes that his spoiled-rotten child—my words not his—was finally getting a clue. I saw Dad's face move just a little bit and I knew that if he could he'd be smiling.

With tears in my own eyes, I silently mouthed the words: I love you. One long slow blink and I knew Dad was saying "Ditto Kiddo". That was what he always used to say to me. Whenever I would say, "I love you, Daddy," he would always reply "Ditto Kiddo".

I missed hearing that. My dad had never been much of a talker...I guess I inherited that from him...but whenever he had spoken, it was always important.

By that point, I just hoped to make it home before I totally lost it and started bawling. Mom wasn't the only one who hadn't allowed herself to cry over the past few years, and I was afraid once I started I wouldn't be able to stop.

I decided that looking at Dad was not conducive to dry eyes, but I didn't want Mom to see me crying either. We had just gotten on I75, which was always an accident waiting to happen, and Mom needed all of her concentration to drive.

I shot Dad a teary-eyed apologetic smile then bowed my head to stare down at my hands. I didn't know where else to look. Gazing out of the windows on my side of the van or out the back tended to make me carsick, and my parents were both on the other side of the van so I couldn't very well stare out that side.

I needed time to think. Even though, to an outsider, what just happened might not have looked like much, to me it was actually life changing.

I wasn't sure where to go from there, how to redirect my life, but I finally realized that something had to change; and that something was me.

How did I go from being me to being the teenager from the van who had obviously accepted that life wasn't fair but somehow managed to find happiness and contentment anyway? I knew it wouldn't be easy to make that big of a change, but I needed to find a place to start.

Traffic was a little heavier on the way home since it was lunch hour traffic, making the trip a bit longer than usual, so, needing something to concentrate on, I spent the time making a list in my head of things that I could do differently.

1. Help Mom around the house more.

2. Communicate with Dad.

3. Figure out the hydraulic lift.

4. Spend more time at home.

5. Go to church.

6. Try to be friendlier to people in general.

Number 5 was going to be harder than the others were, because I was pretty ticked at God for allowing bad stuff to happen. I had a lot of anger, and I needed somewhere to direct it. God still seemed the most likely candidate for that.

The last one was going to take a lot of work because silent and sullen with an occasional glare thrown in had become a semi-permanent part of my demeanor.

I was not going to be able to go into any of Dad's appointments, but I could try to make them easier for Mom by helping out with more things and by being supportive. I thought of how that teenage girl, without saying anything, had been able to let her parents know that she was there to do whatever they needed her to do, even if it meant just being there for them emotionally.

She hadn't even drawn attention to the fact that she had done something amazing and that, without her, the young girl would have been without oxygen. I decided that as soon as we got home, after I helped Mom as much as I could with Dad, I would go write my list down, and perhaps add some specifics.

Mom never talked when she was driving in major traffic, which was pretty much all the time in the DFW area, and I was certain that Dad understood why I only glanced up at him every once in a while. I still wanted to be able to check on him to make sure he was okay, but I had a lot of thinking to do, and didn't want to have to deal with any more tears; mine or his.

By the time we arrived at home, I was more under control.

I helped Mom unload Dad and get him into the house. Instead of immediately running upstairs to my room as I usually did, I stayed downstairs and fixed sandwiches for lunch while Mom took Dad into the bedroom to take care of some 'things'.

I had to draw the line somewhere. It was hard enough fighting my natural instinct, which was to escape, run as far and fast as possible, there was no way I would ever be able to help with those 'things'.

Hearing the doorbell, Mom called out from the bedroom "CeeCee, could you let Frank in please?"

"Okay," I answered willingly...that was something I could do.

Frank was huge; there was no other word for it. I had heard Mom tell Mrs. Murray one time that Frank was a former pro football defensive lineman—I remembered feeling sorry for any quarterback unfortunate enough to have to face him for four quarters—but injuries had forced him to quit after a couple of years.

My mind boggled trying to imagine anyone big or tough enough to take him out of the game. Ironically, he was one of the nicest men I had ever met. There was always a grin lighting up his dark face, and he was one of the few people who could actually make me want to smile.

"How's Coach doin' today?" he asked as I stepped back allowing him to enter.

Once he found out that Dad had played UT football in his college days and had coached for years, he had begun respectfully addressing him as Coach.

If he was surprised that the hermit from the attic had answered the door, he hid it well.

"He had an appointment today," I replied. "Mom said they were going to try some different meds. They're in the bedroom, you can go on in."

"Thanks," he grinned at me and I grinned back in spite of myself.

I heard him knock and enter the bedroom, beginning his customary running monologue on the future possibilities of the different college and pro football teams by saying, "Hey Coach, did you hear the latest news about that stupid trade the Cowboys made?"

Frank shut the door and his voice became a constant humming noise. Every once in a while there was silence and Frank would then let out a roar of laughter. A few minutes later, Mom came out of the bedroom. She looked at me in surprise.

"I thought maybe you would be hungry, so I fixed some chicken salad sandwiches," I explained a little embarrassed.

Mom didn't reply...just walked over, hugged me, and sat down to eat.

After a bit, she seemed to recoup her energy and began chatting about nothing in particular: the weather, school, Felicia, whatever popped into her mind. She apparently needed an outlet, so I nodded and murmured appropriate responses occasionally.

Eventually, Frank opened the bedroom door and whispered, "He's out like a light," to Mom. "Gotta remember that new joke he tole me; the guys'll love that one."

She smiled and, getting up, walked him to the front door. I could hear them talking in low tones, but couldn't make out what they were saying.

I put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher and snuck out the back door. That was all I could handle for one day. Everything was going to be harder than I realized, but I knew I had to make an effort to rejoin the family. I couldn't continue hiding from life, no matter how much I wanted to do just that.

Chapter 3

Dear Diary,

Dad's in the hospital.

CeeCee

Things were getting better, well not everything, but I was doing so much better.

It looked like I was finally to the bargaining stage, the third stage of the five stages of grief according to the list...a definite improvement over the other two stages, I thought.

I was trying so hard not to be angry with God; it left me feeling so alone and empty, and...dark. My side of the bargain was to stop yelling at Him, go to church, help as much as I could, and just generally be a better daughter, a better person. God's side was to, according to my bargain, let things stay...well...just stay.

I didn't know quite how to explain it to Him, but I figured since He was God He would know what I meant. I was tired of one surprise after another. I simply wanted to be on an even keel for a while, with no waves, no major wind, just a nice gentle breeze filling the sail.

I was feeling closer to normal than I had in a very long time...at least I think I was. It had been so long since anything had even slightly resembled normal it was sort of hard to tell. I realized that I was precariously balanced, but I was hoping to be able to keep things balanced long enough to become better at the 'normal' thing.

The past few days, since the 'revelation,' I had made every effort to be good. It was very difficult at first, trying to think of someone else besides myself for a change because I was so out of practice, but I could tell that both of my parents appreciated the effort. Kind of pathetic, really, that they could be so grateful for any little, and I do mean little, effort on my part. A sewer rat had nothing on me.

Watching Mom, I was amazed to see how much she did every day, and without so much as one complaint. I mean, good grief, the woman walked around with a smile on her face. Granted it was a very tired smile, a shadow of what her smile used to be, but still...a smile.

What was lower than a sewer rat? Have to think about that one. Since I was out of school for the summer, I had plenty of time for thinking...and other things.

Instead of running during Mom's breakfast time in order to avoid her, I got up an hour earlier to run so I could be home in time to take a shower and fix Mom's breakfast.

She had lost a lot of weight, so she obviously hadn't been taking care of herself in that department. I used to love cooking with her when I was young.

She always made it seem so fun. Mark inherited that ability from her.

By the time I was in sixth grade, I could whip up a pretty mean omelet. Good thing, too, because when I began looking for ingredients to make anything, I realized we were pitifully short. Eggs, bread, and milk were about all we had.

Because she was always in a hurry to get home to Dad, and I never showed up for meals anymore, Mom had resorted to grabbing a bunch of frozen dinners at the grocery store that we could pop into the microwave whenever we felt like eating. Our cupboards were bare.

Instead of spending all day at the library, I asked Mom for some money to go grocery shopping. She smiled at me, of course, and handed over forty dollars. Since we were on a tight budget, I had to keep a tally in my head as I put things in my cart, and I had to buy things I would know how to fix. It was cool, in a weird way, to play Suzy Shopper.

I only had one tearful episode, and that was on the cereal aisle. Glancing around for some new type of cereal that would appeal to us, a box grabbed my attention and immediately I froze, shocked, as a flood of memories assailed me.

Suddenly I was five years old again.

"Mom, PLEASE!" I practically screeched.

"CeeCee," Mom replied patiently, "I bought you some frosted cornflakes last week and you haven't finished them, yet. You know the rules, no new cereal until you finish the one you already have."

"But Mom, this one has crunch berries!"

"I see that, and it will still have crunch berries next week when we come back, after you've finished your other cereal."

"But Mom..."

"CeeCee, if you keep this up, I am going to buy plain corn flakes next week, and the next week, and the week after...."

"But..."

"CeeCee," Mom warned in her serious voice.

"Yes Ma'am."

I had given up at that point. None of us ever argued with Mom's "serious voice"; that was a losing battle indeed.

As I stood there in the middle of the cereal row, I found myself fighting tears.

I missed Mom's serious voice. I missed Mom. I missed my denial stage.

It was ridiculous how often tears had threatened to spill over since my 'revelation'. It was like the dam burst, and though I kept desperately attempting to patch it, I couldn't.

I rushed thru the rest of the shopping, trying not to dwell on any one thing.

Why hadn't I brought my headphones and some extremely loud, obnoxious music with me?

I spent the next day doing Mom and Dad's laundry. I had been doing my own for years, but I had never volunteered to do theirs before, as that would have blown my whole avoidance/denial thing.

Keeping busy around the house appeared to be the thing to do. I was being useful and spending some time with Mom and Dad.

I have to admit, though, by the time Frank arrived in the afternoons I was always ready for a little alone time. Participating in life again was more of a strain than I had anticipated, and I needed some recuperation and rejuvenation time.

But overall, things were going okay; at least I thought they were.

~ * * ~

Jerked awake by lights and sirens that sounded like they were coming from right outside, I jumped out of bed and made it to the window just in time to see a gurney being unloaded from an ambulance and wheeled into the front door of our house.

By the time I had thrown on some clothes, Dad was already strapped onto the gurney, and Mom was dressed and walking alongside him. Dad laid there, eyes closed, while one of the EMT's helped steer and bag him at the same time.

Mom noticed me standing there at the foot of the stairs frozen in place.

"Stay here, don't call Mark yet, I'll phone you from the hospital," she practically barked out the instructions as she disappeared into the back of the ambulance.

After the lights and sirens faded in the distance, I tried to pull myself together. Glancing at my watch, I noticed that it was just after five o'clock in the morning.

To say I was disoriented, would be putting it mildly. I knew who I was, but that was about all I could claim. My disjointed and confused thoughts—probably as much from lack of sleep as from the shock of what had just happened—made focusing difficult.

We only had two phones in the house so, with an unnatural outward calm, I searched for and found one of them to take upstairs in order to hear the ring when Mom called.

Two hours later, sitting at my desk dazedly staring at the cordless phone in my hand willing it to ring, the numbness in my mind was finally wearing off and I wasn't sure that was a good thing.

In my mind, I screamed and screamed and screamed.

Why can't everything just stop! Stop moving, stop changing, just...STOP!

I was so tired of life throwing things at me. I wanted peace, quiet, rest...

When the phone finally rang, I nearly fell out of my chair even though I was expecting it...waiting for it.

"Mom...?" I ventured anxiously, "How is he?"

"He's unconscious," she replied tiredly. "They finally got him into the ICU and are running tests."

"What happened?"

"His breathing became raspy around 4:30 and it woke me up. I took his temperature and it was 105. I gave him medicine and tried to give him a sponge bath to bring down his temp, but it didn't work. I couldn't get him to wake up so I called the ambulance. They're going to let me know when the tests are done. Right now, I'm in the waiting room."

"How did this happen?" I asked in anguish.

"He may have picked up a virus or something at the doctor appointment a few days ago," Mom answered tiredly, "The timing would be right, but honestly they don't know. Some of the medicines he's been on over the years have basically destroyed his immune system, so it could be anything."

"Do you want me to come?"

"No...call Mark, and let him know what's happened—his new number is by the phone in the kitchen—but tell him not to come until we know more," Mom ordered. "Oh, and we aren't at the main Baylor hospital. This one was closer. It's between I75 and the Tollway, just off the Turnpike."

"Okay, let me know..." I began but Mom had already hung up.

I dialed Mark's apartment, wondering if I would be too late to catch him before he left for class since it was already after seven. The phone rang quite a few times, and I was about to hang up and try again later when someone finally picked up and an unfamiliar deep voice said, "Hello."

"I'm...uh...looking for Mark Wilson," I began tentatively.

I hadn't paid attention, big surprise, to Mark's living arrangements, so I had no idea who was on the other end of the call.

"He's already left for class," the voice said briskly. "Can I take a message?"

The voice sounded in a hurry.

"Could you have him call home?" I didn't know how much to say, but I wanted the voice to know it was important. "Dad's in the hospital."

"CeeCee?" the voice asked, suddenly concerned.

"Y...yes," I answered with some trepidation.

The voice chuckled and identified itself, "I'm Nick Barrett, Mark's new roommate. How's your dad doing? Is it serious?"

"He's unconscious," I replied with a catch in my voice, "Mom said his temperature was 105. They don't really know anything yet."

"I'll let Mark know as soon as I can get a hold of him," Nick reassured me.

"Thank you," I whispered and hung up.

I couldn't stay on the phone any longer. Nick's unexpected kindness and concern had tears welling in my eyes.

Once again, I found myself sitting at my desk, dazed, waiting for the phone, anxious for Mark's call. I wanted to ring the hospital to check on Dad, but Mom hadn't left me a phone number, and I didn't know the name of the hospital, just the location.

I picked up the phone on the first ring.

"Mark?"

I didn't even bother saying "hello". It had to be Mark.

"CeeCee, Nick said you called here looking for me. What's going on?"

I could hear the underlying stress in his voice.

"Dad spiked a 105 fever around 5 AM, so Mom had to call 911. The ambulance came and took him to a hospital."

I probably wasn't doing any of it very well, but I was too upset to stop and think about what I was saying, or how I was saying it.

"Mom rode in the ambulance with Dad, but wouldn't let me go. She couldn't get him to open his eyes...."

My voice broke, and I had to stop to catch my breath.

"CeeCee, it's okay. Take your time. Is Dad more stable now?"

"No," I whispered, still unable to control my voice.

"So what are they saying? How is he?"

After taking a few deep breaths, I was able to continue.

"I don't know, they were still running tests on him when Mom called. They got him into the ICU and were having to do the tests in there, so she was in the waiting room. She didn't want me to worry you until we had more information, that's why I didn't call earlier this morning, she wanted me to wait until she called," I continued in a rush, "Oh Mark, I've been so awful, and I was finally doing better, and Dad and I were talking... communicating again...and I even started trying to help Mom more, and..."

"CeeCee," Mark interrupted, "it's okay; you were doing your best. I know it's been hard on you," he acknowledged, and then added more to himself than to me, "I should have come home to help, no matter what Mom and Dad thought."

"No, I haven't been doing my best, that's just it, I've been really rotten, and you know it. I..."

Mark broke in again, "Listen, we'll have to beat ourselves up later, right now I need to get a few things taken care of and then I'll head that way. I should be there in about...four hours, okay?"

"Thanks, Mark," I said gratefully, "Oh, they didn't take him to the main Baylor hospital, it was too far. He's at the one between I75 and the Tollway, just off the Turnpike, not too far from here. And, um, just so you know, Mom told me that when I did talk to you I was to tell you not to come, so I'm telling you not to come, got it?"

"Understood" Mark replied and I could hear the grin in his voice. "Love you, Sis."

"Love you, too. Be careful, and NO TICKETS!"

"I'll try my best," again with the grin in his voice.

Just knowing that Mark was coming calmed me down enough to think at least semi-rationally. As much as I wanted to go straight to the hospital, I knew there were a few things I needed to do at the house; otherwise, Mom would think she needed to do them.

First things first, Mark would need a place to sleep.

Our new house was a lot smaller than our last one. Being limited by price and handicap requirements, we didn't have many choices. We managed to find one with the master bedroom and bath downstairs, but we had to have the bathroom modified, some doorways widened, and all of the carpet downstairs removed to accommodate the wheelchair.

The rest of the house consisted of a very small half-bath downstairs for company, a living/dining room combo, eat-in kitchen, and a detached one-car garage where we kept our compact car. When we moved, since Mom was the only driver in the house, we sold Dad's SUV so we only had the one car.

When we got the handicapped van it had to stay parked in the driveway; it wouldn't have fit in the garage anyway. Thankfully, my parents hadn't owed anything on our other house, having moved there before I was born, so there was enough money leftover for modifications after buying the new house.

The problem was that even though the house had two bedrooms upstairs, one for me and one for Mark whenever he came home to visit, Mark's room was also the "storage room" for anything that didn't fit anywhere else in the house.

Mark seldom came home, and he never stayed more than a night or two, so each visit required some "rearranging" of stuff. Going through the bathroom that connected the two bedrooms, and opening the door to the spare room—I doubted I could have opened the hall door to the bedroom since we thought of that area as "free floor space" and used it as such—I temporarily allowed myself to be depressed by the sight that met my eyes.

There was no way he was going to be able to get to the bed or sleep in the bed without major removal.

What is all this stuff anyway? I asked myself in disgust. We're a bunch of pack rats.

It wasn't packed to the ceiling in every part of the room, but a rather large percentage of it was.

The bed, I groaned quietly, where's the bed? Okay, get a grip, you can do this, I scolded myself severely. Mark is coming home, there's motivation for you.

He hadn't been home since Christmas, and that was only for one night, so he had slept on the couch downstairs. Had he ever slept in that room? I think he had the first year or so after we moved in, but the room just kept filling up with junk.

I had a sudden flash of memory, something about a girl who wouldn't take the garbage out, and all of the trash ended up taking over everything. That seemed appropriate to our situation, only it wasn't garbage; at least it wasn't supposed to be.

For a moment, my nerve failed me. What was so bad about sleeping on the couch anyway? I sighed, maybe the fact that the couch was less than 6 foot in length while my brother was over 6 foot in height. I could give him my room, and I could sleep on the couch.

EW!

That was all the motivation I needed. Squaring my shoulders, I got to work. The main things were to:

1. Clear a path to the bed from the bathroom as well as the hallway door; I didn't want him to have to come through my room just to get out of his room.

2. Make sure the bed was junk free.

That would give Mark a place to sleep for the night, and maybe he and I could work on the rest together if we had a little time. He would have to use my closet if he wanted to hang anything up. His closet...I shuddered, it didn't bear thinking about.

After deciding on a plan of action—basically moving everything I could into my room to stack into the one corner of my room that was, I hesitated to say empty, but more empty than any other part of the room—it took me about forty minutes to execute said plan. I was definitely sweating by the time I finished.

After making sure there were clean sheets and pillowcases on the bed, I jumped into the shower for a few minutes to cool off, got dressed, ran down the stairs, and grabbed some bottled water out of the fridge.

Glancing at the clock on the stove, I decided to head to the hospital to see if there was any news. Part of me wanted to wait until Mark could be there, too, for moral support, but I had to know what was going on.

Locking the door behind me, I headed for the car.

Chapter 4

Dear Diary,

Mom hates me.

CeeCee

Arriving at the hospital a couple of hours before Mark was due, a nurse buzzed me into the ICU. I found Mom sitting by Dad's bed, holding his hand. Dad was still unconscious. They had him hooked up to all sorts of things, and there was an oxygen mask over his face.

Mom looked up and smiled at me, the same weary but determined smile she had worn every day for...forever.

I walked over to the bed and she got up to hug me.

"How is he?" I whispered.

If I'd thought about it, whispering would have seemed kind of silly. I mean, if we could have done anything to get Dad to open his eyes, we would have, but the whole atmosphere of the place had a general air of solemnity; whispering seemed appropriate. The only sounds in the room were the monitoring machines they had Dad hooked up to, and his labored breathing.

"I...he..."

Never in my life had I seen Mom at a loss for words. Sure, I had seen her struggling in recent years to keep up the vivacious, warm-hearted chattering that had always been second nature to her, but never anything like that. I knew things were as bad as they could get.

"He's not going to recover from this is he?" I asked tentatively.

"No he's not."

I could tell she was having a hard time not breaking down.

"Isn't there something that they can do? I mean, they have all of this technology and different medicines. There has to be something," I finished desperately.

As hard as it had been to watch him deteriorate the past few years, never seeing him again was unthinkable.

Watching Mom, I could see she was having some sort of struggle. On her face I could see indecision and misery all mixed in together along with some other things I didn't recognize.

What was going on?

"Mom...what...?"

My voice was still a whisper, but a more forceful one.

"They...won't be able to do anything," she replied with finality in her voice.

"What do you mean 'won't be able to'?" I asked carefully.

"Just what I said," Mom replied, "There is nothing they can do."

"No," I contradicted, "You said "won't" not "can't".

"Just let it go, CeeCee," Mom pleaded.

"No, tell me the truth, there is something they can do isn't there?" I insisted. "Why won't they? What's stopping them?"

Closing her eyes against the pain, Mom replied, "Your father is."

It took a few minutes for that to sink in. In my defense, I hadn't been asleep long before hearing the ambulance arriving at the house, having stayed up too long in order to finish the book I was reading, so my brain was a bit fuzzy to begin with.

"Dad is?" I repeated incredulously. "Mom, in case you haven't noticed, Dad is lying there unconscious."

"I realize that," the impatience in Mom's voice was uncharacteristic to say the least, "nevertheless, it is your Dad preventing them from taking what they call "heroic measures" in order to buy him some time, which is all that they can guarantee at this point."

She paused and took a deep breath, then continued. "When your dad first starting having...issues, he wanted to make sure I knew what he wanted me to do in case something like this," her hand gesture encompassed the room, "happened. I think he had an inkling that his problems were more serious than either of us chose to believe and wanted to make sure his wishes would be carried out. He made an appointment with Mr. Forsythe at church, you know, the lawyer, right after we moved here, and signed some papers in front of witnesses while he could still write. Those papers are the reason that the hospital can't do anymore than what's being done right now."

"You are telling me that because Dad signed some papers a couple of years ago, they have to let him die?"

I saw Mom flinch on that last word.

"Yes," her voice was barely even a whisper.

"You have to do something!" I insisted. "We can't stand around and do nothing! I just found him again. I can't lose him like this! I won't!"

My voice was steadily climbing higher. I had the attention of the nurse sitting at her station outside Dad's room.

"CeeCee, please..." Mom tried to put her hand on my arm, but I jerked it away.

"How could you?" I practically screeched the question. "You claim to love him, and you're just going to let him die! Do you want him to die? That's it, isn't it, you want him to die. That's why you won't do anything. You don't want to take care of him anymore. I'm helping now, please, I'll do whatever you want me to. You're his wife. Just tell them to do something. They have to do something if you tell them to! Tell them...to do...something!"

Ending on a sob, I had no more breath left. I had nothing else left. I saw thru a haze that the nurse had left her station and returned with reinforcements: Security.

"Miss, you need to come with us."

One of the security guards had a grip on my arm and was non-too-gently, guiding me from the room.

"You will have to leave the unit."

The guards escorted me through the double doors of the ICU and left me there. Watching the doors close, I tried to pull myself together, to think coherently. As they clicked into place, locking me out, I knew that I wouldn't see my dad alive again, and I was sure my mother would hate me for all eternity for the things I'd said to her.

I couldn't blame her. I hated me, too.

After leaving the ICU, I made my way down to the parking lot. I didn't know what to do, but one thing I knew for sure...driving would not be safe in my condition.

So, I started running.

My normal mode of dress in public usually consisted of t-shirt or blouse, jeans and running shoes, the only type of shoe I was ever comfortable in, so running in my clothes was no big deal. The jeans would get itchy and annoying after I started to sweat, but I almost welcomed the thought of any kind of physical hardship to take my mind off my mental and emotional discomfort.

I had no idea where I was going...I just needed to go.

I didn't recall finally making it home later that evening, but when I got there so was the car. Good thing Mom carried a set of car keys in her purse at all times.

Since I couldn't bring myself to go into the house yet, I sat outside on the porch for a while. I wasn't sure how I would react to actually hearing the words and knowing for sure that Dad was gone.

As long as no one said them aloud, I could live in the land of denial for a little while longer. I should have never tried to leave it. Real life hurt too much.

Sitting on the porch, I turned over in my mind all of the possible ways I had come up with to commit suicide while I had been out running. None of the possibilities appealed to me.

I wondered in a detached way whether I would ever have the courage or cowardice to actually do it. Was it brave to take my own life, or was it just a cop out because I didn't have the guts to face the hard stuff? I had heard it debated both ways, and before that day I would have said it took courage to commit suicide. However, I was no longer so sure.

Thinking over my life the past three years, I was suddenly certain that it required more courage to keep on living...that suicide was taking the easy way out.

Life was painful and living was hard. Death was easy.

After giving it some serious consideration, I had to admit that even though a lot of people might contemplate suicide, I wouldn't be able to do it.

Although I wasn't 100% sure whether heaven and hell did or didn't exist, I knew that if hell did exist and it was worse than my life at that moment, I certainly didn't want to go there.

From everything I'd been able to gather from my church attendance, suicide was final, and it was a sin. Put all of that together and you had 'The Final Sin'. So, just in case, I decided that suicide was definitely out. That meant I had to figure out a way to deal with the mess I was making of my life.

Groaning, I buried my face in my hands.

Remembering how I had treated Mom at the hospital caused me actual physical pain. Would I ever learn to control myself? I doubted it.

Gathering the little courage I had left, I opened the front door and let myself into the house. Mark was sitting in the darkened living room.

"Decided to join me?" Mark asked.

"You saw me."

"You owe me cab fare."

He was surprisingly nonchalant.

"I do?" I asked in confusion. "Why would you take a cab? Where's your pickup?"

"My pickup is currently parked in the garage. I left Mom's car in the driveway behind the van so we could use it since it gets better gas mileage. I had to take a cab back to the hospital in order to get both vehicles home," he finished.

"Mom..." I began.

"Still at the hospital; I didn't leave the car for her because she shouldn't be driving right now."

"Mark..." I had no idea what to say, "I'm sorry about..."

"Mom is the one you should apologize to, according to the nurse. Mom, of course, wouldn't tell me anything other than you left the hospital running." Mark interrupted me to say.

"How did she...?" I began in surprise.

"She made it to the main entrance of the hospital just in time to see you take off," he cut in again. "I called the hospital to let her know you were safe when I saw you on the porch."

"Thanks, Mark," I said sheepishly, "I don't deserve a brother like you. Or parents like..."

I broke off as the sobs I had been trying to suppress all afternoon rose up in my throat threatening to overwhelm me.

Mark took me in his arms and just held me while I cried. He didn't try to stop me or soothe me, just let me cry myself dry.

Mark knew me better than anyone did. It was good to have him home again even if it was for a stinky, rotten and totally unfair reason.

Chapter 5

Dear Diary,

I hate funerals.

CeeCee

Sitting at my desk, chin in hand, staring out at the gray skies, I hoped the rain would at least let up while we were at the cemetery.

Preferring to wait in my room for the limo to arrive, I figured Mom and Mark were downstairs, blonde heads close together whispering about me, wondering if I was about to snap...again.

Glancing out of my window, I noticed the limo had pulled up to the curb, and I reluctantly headed toward the stairs. Mark was halfway up, choosing to come and get me rather than having to yell. None of us had the energy or inclination to project anything much above a whisper.

I shot Mark a grimace that was supposed to be a smile. Mark grimaced back. We needed no words...understanding was immediate. Being there for Mom was the most important thing to both of us so we would try our best, even if we weren't able to make it easier for her, at least not make it any harder. I had done enough of that already.

My main frustration was that Mom wouldn't let me apologize. Every time I tried, she would cut me off with a tired smile and change the subject. Finally, when I couldn't stand it any longer, I unloaded to Mark. Surprisingly, I received no support from him.

"Just drop it, okay? Mom is barely holding it together as it is, and I don't think she could handle an emotional scene from either of us right now."

Translation: behave yourself and stop causing trouble.

I dropped it.

Getting into the limo wasn't any easier for me than the last time I'd tried. I would never get the hang of it. Mom, on the other hand, was incredibly graceful and looked like she had ridden in limos all of her life.

If I had known that before, I would have asked her for tips on limo entrances and exits. I still wouldn't have done it justice, but perhaps it would have prevented me from falling into and out of the limo every time.

Mom was absolutely gorgeous. True she had lost quite a bit of weight, and her skin looked extremely pale with no sign of the healthy tan she used to have in better times, still there was no denying that she was beautiful. She wore a lot more makeup than she used to in order to cover up the dark circles under her eyes that had become even more pronounced while Dad was in the hospital.

Dad had always said that she was the most enchanting creature he had ever laid eyes on, and makeup only detracted from her natural beauty. He was right. Lipstick was the only cosmetic she had used for as long as I could remember.

I knew that she only wore so much makeup for other people. Mom hated for anyone to feel uncomfortable around her so makeup was an important part of her mask. She used it and her personality to hide most of her grief and pain from outside eyes.

Regrettably, most people had no idea what to say or how to act around victims of tragedy, but somehow Mom always seemed to know just what to say or do to ease others' discomfiture. People loved her because she always knew how to make people feel good even under the most rotten of circumstances.

Mark and I were determined to be whatever she needed us to be realizing that it was the best way to help her. I certainly owed her that much, and more.

The funeral was at the church building, and the auditorium, which seated close to three hundred people easily, was more than halfway full and still filling up by the time we arrived. Even though we had only lived in the DFW area for three years, Mom had a way of drawing people to her.

There were many church members, of course, but also most of Mom's fellow teachers, quite a few of her students, and Frank. For some reason seeing big, strong Frank with tears in his eyes was almost my undoing.

The biggest surprise of all was the people from our old hometown. Teachers who had taught with Mom and Dad, former students, parents of former students, and members of our old church had loaded into chartered buses to attend the funeral. Mom couldn't help the tears that filled her eyes at the sight.

Right before we got to the door of the activity center where we would wait until time to walk in, I heard someone calling "CeeCee!"

It can't be, I thought as I turned my head toward the sound, she's in Canada on vacation.

It was!

"Felicia! What are you doing here? I thought you were in Canada!"

We were hugging and laughing, and it felt good.

"Dad left our number with Mr. Forsythe in case of an emergency; he's my parents' lawyer, too. He let us know your dad was in the hospital not doing well. We didn't know he...we didn't know about...the funeral...until we got home," she finished hesitantly.

"I am so glad you're here. Can she walk in with us, Mom?" I asked as we entered the activity center.

"Of course she can, if her parents don't mind," my mom smiled at Felicia warmly and squeezed her hand.

"Thanks, Mrs. Wilson," Felicia returned the smile.

My parents had been overjoyed when Felicia had become the friend I needed so badly and had a soft spot for her.

Actually, I had always thought that Felicia looked more like my mom's daughter than I did. Interesting how that didn't bother me. If it had been anyone else, it would have. Sad that I was so obsessed with physical beauty; obviously envious of what I didn't have.

"I'm Mark, in case anyone is interested," he casually introduced himself to Felicia. "Nice to finally meet you," he added.

"I am so sorry. I forgot you hadn't met," I said apologetically.

"I'm always gone when you come in for a visit, and you always leave before I can get back home," Felicia reasoned, "but I know all about you from CeeCee."

"Well, that can't be good. Hope you'll give me the benefit of the doubt anyway," Mark teased.

"I'll try to keep an open mind," Felicia promised solemnly.

The funeral director showed up to lead us into the auditorium at that point.

I was relieved to know that Mark and Felicia seemed to like each other. I had regaled Felicia with Mark's many, many dates, and Felicia had occasionally made snide remarks about guys who date that much.

Numerous "dating machines" had asked her out in her short dating career, and they'd never turned out well. Although she was not a cynic by nature, that would be me, she generally avoided those types of guys.

The funny thing about Mark was that usually girls asked him out, and he was just too nice to say "no" and risk hurting their feelings. Because he had been raised a gentleman, he also insisted on paying, but warned them up front that it would have to be an inexpensive date, since he was having to help pay for his college education. The girls never seemed to mind.

Another unexpected arrival interrupted the short walk between the main building and the activity center.

"Mark!"

We all looked around at the owner of the new voice; it sounded vaguely familiar.

"Nick!"

Mark and the new arrival locked in a bear hug, pounding each other on the back. They looked about the same height, but Nick was burlier than Mark.

"Mom, this is my roommate, Nick Barrett. Nick this is my mother, Allison Wilson," Mark introduced them.

"It's a great honor to meet you, Mrs. Wilson; I feel I already know you from talking to you on the phone as well as all the things Mark has shared with me."

He held my mom's hand and looked deeply into her eyes. Mom's weary smile brightened just a bit.

"I've heard good things about you, too, Nick. James and I..." my mom's voice cracked just a bit from mentioning my dad's name, "We were very grateful that you offered Mark the chance to share your apartment. It's helped him out so much."

"I would be hard put to find a better roommate," Nick assured her, "a win-win situation."

I cringed, trying to hide behind Felicia, which was very hard to do since I topped her by a good three inches.

I'd liked Nick on the phone, but it suddenly dawned on me that if Mark had told Nick about us then Nick had heard as many bad things about me as he had heard good things about Mom.

Mark, being the loving brother that he was, would try to sugar-coat me, but even with tons of sugar-coating, I would come out sounding an extremely bitter pill. I was mortified thinking about the things Mark might have told him. There were so many from which to choose.

Thankfully, we had no more time for introductions. Since Felicia looked more like Mom and Mark than I did...maybe he would think that she was me. If he didn't stay long, maybe I could get away with it.

I was such a cop-out.

I could see him giving me the once over, maybe wondering who I was, then glancing at Felicia.

Turning my back on him, I determinedly decided not to care. Who was he to judge me anyway?

As we entered the auditorium, my bravado left me and I felt a twinge of sadness. There were only the three of us.

Mom never talked about her family and Dad had no family in the states, his mother having moved to the U.S. from Scotland with her parents when she was around five years old.

She'd died right before I was born, which was why I'd been named after her, Elsee Caitrin Wilson.

I was glad that, even though my mother loved her dearly, she realized that I would be teased my whole life if Elsee was the name I went by, so she came up with a compromise, a nickname, for which I would be forever grateful.

Taking the last syllable of Elsee and putting it together with my middle initial had truly been an inspiration. She had seen her mother-in-law sign her name Elsee C. Wilson so many times that her signature, along with Mark's childhood name for our grandmother, had given her the idea.

Mark had always called her Gramsee so Mom had decided that CeeCee would be an acceptable variation and a nickname she could live with. My dad usually let Mom have her way, which I thought a wise move on his part. He had definitely been the peacemaker in the family.

The service was mostly a blur to me. Mark and Mom walked in together first, then Felicia and me, and Nick, because Mom asked him sweetly to join us, brought up the rear. He couldn't resist Mom's charm anymore than anyone else could.

I tried not to listen to what the preacher was saying, I figured that was the only way I was going to get through the whole thing dry-eyed, and I did pretty well, I thought, until they played Dad's favorite song.

The song "I Can Only Imagine" had gained quite a bit of popularity, and played all the time on the Christian radio station Mom and Dad listened to frequently. Mom had informed us the previous night that since it had been one of Dad's favorite songs—he liked to "imagine" that we would, one day, all be up in heaven together with his mom and dad and his brother Michael who died before he was born—she'd warned us that she requested that song be played during the funeral.

Forewarned should have been forearmed, and I did control myself through the first part of the song, but I couldn't stop the tears from falling freely down my cheeks about half way through. I was squeezing Felicia's hand so tightly I was sure she was losing all feeling in her fingers, but I couldn't stop. I kept thinking how mortified I would be if I lost all control and began blubbering uncontrollably. Unlike Mom, I was not a silent crier.

The service finally ended, and lines of people filed past us as well as the open casket while background music played. Everyone stopped to hug Mom. They mostly shook hands with Mark and me, murmuring condolences, but Mom was special. She was the reason they were all here; if she had loved the deceased, then he must have been incredible.

People back home had known Dad well and loved him, but after we moved, no one had been able to actually get to know him because he was already slurring his words and having major muscle spasms by then.

Even so, they all felt like they knew Mom. The phrase one-in-a-million had been created specifically with her in mind.

After what seemed like an eternity, we were escorted to the limo. Unlike the stretch limo I had ridden in before, the funeral limo—for lack of a better term—had two bench seats facing each other so it could seat six people.

Felicia agreed to ride with us—I envied the style with which she and my mother gracefully entered the limo—but Nick decided to take his own vehicle. I was glad for the slight reprieve. I could tell the one time our eyes had met, that he didn't think much of me, and was waiting for the right moment to tell me so.

I usually wasn't so easily intimidated, but there was something about him...I couldn't put it into words, and I realized I wasn't going to emerge from any encounter with him unscathed.

The rain had temporarily turned into a fine mist, which was much better than the downpour we could hear during the funeral service, and we all heaved a collective sigh of relief. At least the graveside service might not turn out as miserably wet as we all had expected earlier in the day. Even if half of the people from the funeral attended, there would be a mass turnout, and only a few of us were going to be able to fit under the tent at one time.

In deference to the weather, the preacher didn't dally over the graveside service. Mom had decided against opening the casket again, so it was basically a scripture reading, a prayer, and then more hugging and crying.

Mark suggested I give Felicia my house key so she and her parents could go help Mrs. Murray get things ready for the meal, which I thought was a great idea. Mrs. Murray and the Howells were some of the first to leave with whispered promises of 'taking care of things'.

After everyone else had departed—except Nick who was waiting in his pickup, not knowing where we lived—Mom had the director open the casket one last time so we three could say our final goodbyes before we left Dad there...forever.

I wasn't sure Mom would be able to leave. I wasn't sure I would be able to leave.

How could anyone do that? Just abandon someone they love lying in a casket knowing they were about to be trapped forever in that small container? Lowered into the ground and buried? Underground? With all that dirt on top of them? Unable to breathe?

Even though I knew he was dead, Dad looked like he was just asleep, that if I reached over and shook him gently he would wake up.

I desperately wanted him to wake up.

How can I just walk away and desert him? I wondered frantically.

In a sudden panic, I knew there had to be some mistake. He couldn't be gone, there had to be something...a reset button...or an undo button...where was the undo button? Everything else had one, there had to be one for life. Death was so...so...irrevocable...so final, too final for there not to be an "out" somewhere.

I would never see him again...never hear him again.

This just can't be right! I wanted to scream. I can't do this!

I shook my head to clear it, trying to swallow around the lump in my throat that was preventing me from uttering any sound. All I could do was stand there, crying. Desperately, I reached for Mark's hand, and felt his gentle squeeze. He was silent, and I wondered if he was feeling the same overwhelming emotions that I was experiencing.

Mom, deciding that Mark and I had spent enough time there, told us to wait for her in the limo. I didn't want to go, couldn't take my eyes off of Dad lying there, but Mark tugged at my hand and gently managed to lead me away from the gravesite. I kept turning around, gazing longingly back towards the casket, as we made our way to the limo.

Neither of us wanted to go, I could feel Mark's reluctance as if it were my own, despair filling me at the prospect of the emptiness in my life, the big hole left by Dad's death no one else would ever be able to fill.

By leaving him there, I was admitting that he was truly gone...there would be no more "Ditto Kiddo" ever again...and I couldn't do it.

I turned back towards the gravesite, unable to stop myself, but I felt Mark's hand on my waist, pulling me backwards against him, wrapping his arms around me as he buried his face in my hair, preventing me from intruding on Mom.

We watched Mom touch Dad's hands, his face, his hair, leaning over him, her hands straightening his jacket adjusting his pocket, her lips moving the whole time. We were too far away to hear what she was saying, and I, for one, was glad I couldn't lip read.

Whatever it was, I was sure it would be heartbreaking to hear, and I couldn't stand anymore heartache than what I was already suffering at that point.

Mark concluded that she had been out there alone long enough and after firmly installing me in the limo was about to go get her when we saw her motion to the director that she was through.

While he closed the casket for the last time, she made her way, a little unsteadily, towards us. Mark moved to meet her and helped her negotiate the uneven ground between the grave and the limo...tears streaming silently down her face.

None of us said a word.

By the time we arrived at the house, Mom was composed again. She had invited everyone to come to join us at the house to eat and she knew she'd have to face them all.

There had been a steady stream of people bringing food for two days, and we were never going to be able to eat it all ourselves. A lot of it wouldn't fit in the fridge, and Mrs. Murray had kindly offered to keep the overflow at her house, but even so, it had to be eaten or most of it would spoil, there was that much.

I took a deep breath, stumbled out of the limo, and followed Mark and Mom into the house. Excusing myself in order to change clothes, I ran upstairs and shut the door.

After donning my standard sleeveless, fitted blouse and jeans, I stood at my bedroom window staring blindly out at the rain. How appropriate, I thought morosely, it hadn't rained in...I couldn't even remember the last time it had rained...but it had poured buckets since early that morning.

I supposed it would be too corny to think that the skies were crying over my father's death, but that was how it seemed to me.

As usual, I was stalling. I should be downstairs with all the guests...Mom and Mark would be expecting me to help...but I wanted to stay up in my room, hiding.

Sighing heavily, I headed to the stairs.
Chapter 6

Dear Diary,

Will this day never end?!!!

CeeCee

Hours later, and still the last of the stragglers lingered. Felicia and her parents had left about fifteen minutes earlier, trying to help us out by making a big production of it in order to give others the hint, but, honestly, some people had no clue. I'd had more than enough, and needed to escape.

On the one hand, I felt badly about leaving Mom and Mark to handle the rest of the guests, on the other hand, if I had stayed down there one more second, I would have screamed bloody murder.

Granted, that was a most effective way to clear a room, but I didn't relish the thought of spending time in a straight jacket locked in my own private, padded cell. My family didn't need anymore reason to think I was losing, or had already lost it, than I already had given them. There was plenty of evidence around to support that theory without my deliberately adding to it.

Throwing myself on the bed, I picked up my MP3 player, put my headphones on, cranked up the sound, and closed my eyes.

A short time later, I awoke with a start to find a pair of golden brown eyes watching me. Taking off my headphones, I sat up quickly. Nick was sitting on the edge of my bed and I didn't need three guesses to figure out what he wanted. I was about to be raked over the coals.

Seeing how easily he interacted with all of the guests downstairs, I noted that he certainly wasn't shy about approaching people. Although he had been the soul of kindness on the phone when I told him about Dad, he obviously knew more about my past sins than my comfort zone allowed.

I'd spent the whole time downstairs trying to avoid him, but every time I looked around, he was making a beeline for me.

By that point, it was fairly obvious that I was Mark's sister and not Felicia. For the most part, I had managed to evade him, but I noticed him casting speculative glances at me all afternoon. Assuming the worst, I decided that he was trying to figure out how to get me alone to take me to task for past—and possibly present—behavior.

Belligerently, I'd returned his glances with defiant glares of my own, not planning on being an easy target. Let him deal with that.

"What are you doing in here?"

"Your brother sent me to check on you," Nick answered amusedly.

"Ever heard of knocking?"

"Ever heard of answering?" he matched my question with a question. At my confused look he continued, "I did knock, but you had your headphones on, sound asleep. I decided not to disturb your beauty rest."

"Very funny," he was definitely beginning to irritate, "you've checked on me, I'm obviously still alive and kicking," or about to, I added silently, "So you can leave now."

"Not very hospitable," Nick reproached me. "Your mother would be horrified at your manners, or lack thereof."

"I doubt she would be surprised. I doubt that you are surprised," I returned smartly. He was really starting to tick me off. "Now if you don't mind..." I looked pointedly at the door.

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you. Since you were determined to evade me downstairs, now seems like a good time."

Oh great, I thought sarcastically, here it comes.

"Well, since I'm having no luck getting rid of you, you might as well go ahead and get it off your chest. I await with bated breath."

I scooted back to lean against my headboard, drew up my knees, and locked my arms around my legs pretending avid interest. Since I tended to reveal too much when I was 'over the top' angry, I was determined to stay calm and not let him get to me. I had a feeling that he could easily put me there.

Nick's eyes held mine for about a minute, as if searching for something, then seemed to make up his mind.

"So, I hear you have a wicked right cross," he began with an amused look.

That was the last thing I expected him to say. My surprise must have shown on my face.

He continued, "Do you always react that way when a guy tries to kiss you?"

"Do you always believe everything you hear?" I asked in turn, deciding suddenly to answer his questions with a question hoping to put him on the defensive instead allowing him to force me into a defensive stance.

"Are you denying it?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

Hmm...interesting, we were both doing the question thing.

"Does it really matter?"

And ball in your court, I thought smugly.

"You answer my questions and I'll answer yours," he replied.

Aw rats, he changed the game. Guess he realized it wasn't going to get him anywhere.

"But I am only asking my questions to keep from answering yours. I couldn't care less about your answers," I replied a little nastily.

"You do have quite a temper. Poor guy, just wanting a little kiss, and gets a broken nose instead. You are definitely a danger to all mankind," he finished, shaking his head.

"He wasn't trying to kiss me; he was trying to undress me!" I snapped. "But you are certainly welcome to believe whatever you want," then muttered, "everyone else did."

Shoot! And I was going to stay all calm, cool, and collected and ignore the jerk. I had to get my temper under control.

"So why does everyone, including your family, think that you just overreacted to a goodnight kiss?" he asked, intrigued.

"Because that is what I do, overreact to everything, and because when the odds are five against one, people tend to believe the five," I replied truculently. "I've answered your original question, now go away and leave me alone."

"I would like to know one more thing."

"Sorry, I'm all out of answers for the night."

"Well, it's not really in the form of a question, although it might be considered one I suppose," he said as leaned toward me. "It's really more of an experiment."

Placing his hand on the nape of my neck and pulling me gently forward, his lips brushed mine in a featherlike kiss. My eyes closed involuntarily and I could feel my lips quivering.

"Hmm, very nice, and no broken nose," he murmured softly from barely an inch away.

By the time I recovered from the shock and opened my eyes, he was out of the room and the door was already closing behind him.

What was that?

I touched my lips with my fingers gently, wonderingly. There were strange feelings floating around inside of me. As his lips touched mine, every nerve ending in my body had...screamed. I hadn't even known that I was in possession of that many nerve endings. Then, immediately afterwards, my stomach seemed to disappear, like riding in a car and unexpectedly hitting a huge dip in the road.

I sat in shocked wonder for at least a minute, then without conscious thought, jumped off the bed and ran to the door. I yanked it open just in time to hear Mom saying, "Bye Nick, thanks for coming. Be careful going back."

Gone...groaning quietly, I slowly shut the door and leaned against it, drained as if I had run a marathon. I sank to the floor and stayed there, replaying the kiss over and over in my mind. I had never felt like that before...ever. It was scary and thrilling all at the same time.

I wouldn't allow myself to wonder why he did it or what it meant, that might ruin the whole effect for me, I just wanted to remember it, savor it, dream about it...it...my first kiss.

I compared it to the neck nibbling that Craig the jerk-face had subjected me to that night almost a year ago, but there was no comparison. Craig had just been an irritating annoyance, much like a mosquito buzzing around, landing, and biting, then buzzing around again. I had to swat him.

Thankfully, he'd never made it to my lips.

Nick, on the other hand, had annoyed and angered me verbally, but physically...against my will, I had to admit that I was extremely attracted to him, another reason he had so easily made me angry and my true motive for avoiding him all day.

According to Mark, Nick was around twenty-five or so and in his last year of Veterinarian school at Texas A&M doing clinic stuff—whatever that meant—in Austin. I knew he was way too old for me, and I didn't want to develop a schoolgirl crush on him.

Felicia and I always made fun of the girls at school who had unrealistic crushes on people like movie and music stars, and having a crush on someone like Nick would have been just as unrealistic. I was nothing if not practical.

Startled out of my thoughts by a knock on the door, I jumped up as if I'd been stung. Taking a few deep, steadying breaths, I opened the door.

"Can I come in?" Mark asked.

"Sure. Is everyone finally gone?"

"Well...there were a few who wouldn't leave, so I chopped them up in little pieces and hid them in the freezer," he grinned wickedly. "Snack for later."

I laughed, just as he meant for me to, and rubbed my tummy, "Yum."

Mark could always make me laugh; he just hadn't been around much in recent years to make sure that I got my daily dose.

The realization that he would have to leave again soon propelled me into his arms.

"Whoa!" Mark exclaimed, surprised.

His arms automatically went around me squeezing me tightly and, smoothing my hair with his hand, he asked, "Not that I object, but what brought this on?"

Burying my face in his neck I mumbled, "It just hit me that you have to leave soon. I'll be miserable without you."

"I'll miss you, too," he said, gently taking my face in his hands and pulling my head back where he could see me. "We still have tomorrow and part of Sunday, and I promise I will be back for your eighteenth birthday in a couple of weeks."

"Then I hope the time flies," I said fervently.

"It will," Mark assured me, "in the mean time, I need you to keep an eye on Mom. She seems to be handling things well on the surface, but you know Mom, she always projects that image. You and I both know she's going to have a rough time. Oh and there's another thing I was going to tell you, here," he held out a small black object, "take this."

"A cell phone...?" I asked incredulously, "How did you get Mom to spring for a cell phone?"

I had been begging for one for years, well at least one year, but Mom wouldn't budge. There was no money in the budget for luxuries.

"Mom didn't, I did," Mark said abruptly, "I got her one, too. She didn't want to take it, but I finally convinced her. The phones were free, they aren't anything fancy, I just have to pay a monthly fee for the service, and we are on a plan that allows us free cell phone to cell phone calling."

"You mean I can talk to you as much as I want?" I asked enthusiastically.

Laughing at the look on my face, Mark nodded, "That's the idea," Then added soberly, "with great discretion of course. I don't want to get a phone call in the middle of class unless it's an emergency. I'll give you my fall schedule as soon as I sign up for my classes, along with my work schedule as soon as I figure out my hours. How does that sound?"

I nodded, too excited to speak.

"I've already programmed my cell phone number into your phone, as well as Nick's, in case something urgent pops up and you can't get a hold of me."

I hoped Mark didn't hear my sudden sharp intake of breath at the mention of Nick's name. That was going to get embarrassing, reacting like that every time Nick came up in conversation...and frustrating.

"Thanks, Mark," I reached up and gave him a peck on the check. "You're the best!"

"I know, modest, too! See, I'm blushing," he teased and then added in a more serious tone, "Be sure that you take that phone whenever you're out running. Your little disappearing act from the hospital the other day is how I convinced Mom to take the cell phone."

"Again, sorry," I hung my head in chagrin. "I don't suppose you would want to go running with me tonight?"

He'd turned me down the past couple of nights saying he was too busy.

"As long as you slow down your pace a bit, I wouldn't mind a good run," Mark agreed.

"No problem, I'll meet you downstairs in ten minutes."

Mark was already headed thru the connecting bathroom to his room when I added, "Be sure and bring your cane and have your rocking chair and afghan ready for when you get back, old man."

"Very funny," I heard him mutter as he shut the door.

Chapter 7

Dear Diary,

First day of school...again.

CeeCee

My senior year...I wasn't quite sure how I felt about that.

Most of my mixed feelings were due to the fact that I hadn't been able to convince Felicia to go to UT with me. She'd become such a huge part of my life since that fateful Craig incident, that I couldn't imagine it without her. Her grades, as well as her SAT's, weren't all that great, so she felt that college would be wasted on her.

We were lying by the pool at Felicia's house—Felicia's parents had a swimming pool, which they seldom used since they were usually gone on vacation for most of the summer, but coming back early for Dad's funeral had caused them to change their plans—and I tried to casually steer the conversation toward college. However, Felicia picked up on what I was doing at once.

"You know I don't like studying, CeeCee," she had explained to me with exaggerated patience, "and I am no good at it even when I do try to study. Everything comes so easily to you, you just don't understand."

"We could be in all of the same classes, and I would help you study. Come on, Felicia, we have to stay together," I pleaded. "I've only had you for a year, I need longer."

"Maybe I could just move to Austin and get a job," Felicia said hopefully.

"It wouldn't be the same," I argued, "You know it wouldn't."

"What would I major in, Stupid 101?" she asked a tad mockingly.

"Now that I can help you with," I told her excitedly, "I have a pretty good idea of what your major should be."

"Do tell," the sarcasm was more marked, "I can hardly wait."

"Before I do, answer me this," I demanded, "What did you spend all last spring doing...and enjoying, I might add?"

Felicia looked confused for a moment, then her face cleared and she said, "Redecorating my room, of course, but you can't major in that," she declared emphatically.

"Can't you?" I asked facetiously. "I believe they call it interior design."

"CeeCee, you are so naïve" she shook her head in exasperation. "Just because I can decorate my room the way I like it, that doesn't mean I would be any good at professional decorating."

"You idiot," I teased, "I'm not that stupid. Well, maybe I am, but that's not the point. Your parents let you decorate practically the whole house. It's a showplace and you know it. It should be in a magazine. Everyone who comes to your house says so, not just me."

"But I don't know that much about what other people would like, just what I do."

She was so stubborn...like I should talk.

"The whole point of majoring in something is to learn how to do it. My point is that you have the 'underlying skills necessary to become an interior designer'. You enjoy doing it, you have style, you're better with color coordination than anyone else I know, not that I know that many people," I admitted laughingly, "and you have great taste. I got all of that straight off of a website, by the way, so you can't argue with it," I warned her. I was feeling smug and she knew it. "Please, just apply and give it a chance. One semester is all I'm asking. We can be roommates, take classes together, and I promise I'll help you study."

"I'll think about it," she hesitantly agreed.

"That will do for now," I conceded.

That was more than I had anticipated getting from her, so I could afford to be patient. She would come around.

~ * * ~

After the whole Craig/Dance fiasco the year before, Felicia started picking me up for school and, as I waited for her the morning of our first day back, I made a conscious decision not to mention college again unless she did. I had no wish to alienate her.

Sighing in resignation as I watched Felicia stop in front of our house, I grabbed my stuff and headed reluctantly down the stairs.

Every time I saw Felicia pulling up to the curb in her shiny red Mini, I couldn't help but wish she'd picked a different...I would say car, but I wasn't sure that tiny thing would qualify.

Although I would have rather ridden to school in Mom's car, she always left too early for me to be able to get in my run, breakfast, and a shower. Her favorite part of the day was before the students arrived. I could understand that.

It wasn't that I didn't want to ride with Felicia, I did; I just didn't appreciate her preferred mode of transportation. Although Felicia loved that car, and it got great gas mileage, it just wasn't built to house a person of my...altitude, or attitude for that matter. I always felt like a little cockroach about to be smushed whenever I rode in it. Of course, I didn't want to hurt her feelings, so I kept those paranoid fantasies to myself.

"Hey," I greeted Felicia, as I folded myself into the tiny car.

"Hey yourself."

"Oh, before I forget to tell you, even though my birthday is Thursday, we won't have the birthday bash until Saturday. That way Mark can come. Will you be able to make it to lunch on Saturday? Mom's going all out for the meal. It's been a long time since she...well, anyway, she's a great cook," I finished lamely.

Although every day seemed to get a tiny bit easier, it was still so hard not to think about...things. I needed to be under control, to make it through school every day without constantly losing it, which meant avoiding certain topics. Felicia understood.

"Of course I'll be there. What time?"

"We'll eat at noon," I replied gratefully, "that'll give Mark time to get here."

"He seems nice," Felicia offered hesitantly, "I was sort of expecting someone more...well, stuck on himself from the way you described him."

"I told you, he just doesn't like to hurt anybody's feelings," I reminded her reproachfully, "He is too good-looking for his own good." Then added, "And he would be genuinely shocked to hear me say that." Unlike some guys, he never thought about things like that. "I think any girl would be lucky to have him. I just hope he ends up picking someone I like. Otherwise that would be the pits."

"It must be nice to have an older brother," Felicia sighed wistfully.

I understood her disappointment; she was an only child.

"It is," I admitted laughingly, "most of the time."

"So what is Mark planning to do after he graduates next semester?" Felicia asked in a matter-of-fact voice.

"He's hoping to get an entry level job in an architectural firm there in the Austin area so he can make enough money to start working on his Master's degree," I replied excitedly. "That's one of the reasons I'm so psyched about UT. We will finally be living in the same town again. How cool is that?"

"Nice," Felicia commented speculatively, "very nice."

I was a bit curious about her tone of voice, but since we had arrived at school, I didn't pursue it.

By the end of the first day, Felicia and I both agreed that being a senior was definitely a step up. We had already been able to pre-register for our classes, and ended up having three periods together: Government/Economics, third-year Spanish, plus one free period we could use for studying. We even had the same lunch.

The fact that I was on the Cross Country and Track teams, as well as a different graduation plan, by definition, meant that the rest of our classes had to be different, but we were happy with our schedules.

On the way home from school, Felicia surprised me by bringing up the college thing herself.

"Um...if I were to...uh...want to apply to UT, would you help me fill out the...you know...application?" she seemed to be having trouble getting the question out.

"Are you crazy?" I practically screeched at her. "Try and stop me!"

I thought my heart would leave my chest...it was pounding so hard. That meant I could keep my best friend!

"Thanks, I was hoping you wouldn't mind."

I knew I had the biggest, goofiest smile of all time on my face, but I couldn't help it. She had just made my day, my year, my decade. By the time we got to my house, I had pulled myself together enough to speak coherently again.

"You won't regret it," I swore to her, "I promise I will help you with your classes and everything."

"I'm counting on that," she replied a little nervously, "I think I might try that interior designer thing. Sounds like fun."

"The whole thing will be fun...now," I replied with confidence. "You'll see. We'll have the best time, and anything we don't know, we can ask Mark."

"I'm counting on that, too," Felicia repeated with a huge smile on her face.

That was more like.

Chapter 8

Dear Diary,

I'm 18 today.

CeeCee

Although I had no idea what she had in mind, I let myself be talked into skipping school the afternoon of my birthday. I was a little nervous about it, never having done anything like that before, but Felicia said she had a surprise birthday present for me. She, however, absolutely refused to give me a hint as to what she had planned.

The day had definitely gotten off to a good start. About to head out the door for my morning run, Mark called to wish me happy birthday. I explained about Felicia's surprise, and told him I would call him later that night when I got the chance, not knowing what my schedule would be.

On the way to school, she warned me to be at the car as soon as the lunch bell rang.

Butterflies flitted around in my stomach all morning. I might as well have called the whole day a loss, because I didn't catch anything in any of my classes.

As soon as the bell rang for lunch, I practically sprinted to the car. I beat Felicia by fifteen seconds—she never ran anywhere if she could help it—and I heard her hit the button on her remote keyless entry when she was still fifty feet away, the unexpected sound scaring me to death.

"Get in," she called out as she approached, as close to running as I had ever seen her.

I managed to squeeze myself into the Cooper just in the nick of time. Felicia threw herself in, and we were off. Once we were clear of the parking lot, we glanced at each other, and burst into peals of laughter...the hint of danger making us light-headed.

"So, where are we going?" I asked curiously.

"You'll see," was all she would say.

After a few minutes, I figured out where we were heading.

"What's at your house?"

"Parts one and two of your surprise."

"How many parts are there?"

"Three. Now, no more questions; All shall soon be revealed," she said mysteriously.

I decided to give her a break, and stop asking questions.

We pulled into the garage, presumably to hide the car from any curious neighbors, and went into the house. Mrs. Blanton, the Howell's housekeeper, was in the kitchen putting dishes in the dishwasher.

"There you are," she smiled at us. "Everything is ready in the Media Room. Have fun!"

"Thanks for your help," Felicia returned gratefully.

"My pleasure," she replied, then added, "And happy birthday, CeeCee,"

I added my thanks, and turned to follow Felicia.

"Media Room...you have a Media Room?" I asked dazedly. "I don't remember that."

"It's new. We had men working on it while we were away on vacation. They just finished up this week. Come on, let's get started."

"What...?"

"Come on," she interrupted and grabbed my arm to pull me along.

The Media Room was awesome—there was no other word for it—even to someone as theatrically challenged as I was. Basically, it was a mini-movie theater. The seats were even stair-stepped, and the projection screen was huge.

Felicia motioned me over to one of the two recliners in the very back. In between those two chairs was a table, and on that table, there was all manner of food: Pizza, popcorn, cookies, brownies, potato chips, dip, hoagies...it was truly amazing.

I was about to ask about drinks, when I noticed Felicia pointing at something against the wall...fountain drinks with six different choices and an ice dispenser in the middle, just like in a fast food joint.

I was speechless.

"You like?" Felicia asked smugly.

I found my voice at last, "What's not to like?" I asked incredulously, adding, "Your parents must be some kind of talented to be able to afford everything you've done to this house."

For a moment, Felicia looked confused and then I could see a light bulb go on in her head.

"I didn't realize you didn't know," she looked thoughtful as she continued, "since you didn't grow up around here, there was really no way you would know unless someone told you, and with you being the type that doesn't gossip..."

She was rambling and I was bewildered.

"What are you talking about?" I demanded.

"Ok, ok..." she hesitated for a moment, "let me think a minute, I've never had to explain this before, so I honestly don't know where to begin."

Giving her a chance to collect her thoughts, my own began to run rampant. What was it that everyone else knew? Surely her parents weren't like well-known criminals or anything, maybe so good at concealing evidence that people could only suspect, but not prove...nah, that was just ridiculous... but maybe...

Felicia's question interrupted my wild imaginings and quickly brought me back down to earth.

"Have you ever heard of Vance Industries?"

"No, should I have?" I asked wondering what that had to do with anything.

"Vance Industries was this big, well...gigantic actually, anyways...it was a corporation back in the '70s. I don't know a lot of details, but basically they manufactured a lot of things. The company was sold in the late '80s, and has changed names since then, but the former owners made tons of money off the deal. Not quite a billion, but very close."

"In case you hadn't noticed, Felicia, Economics is next semester," I teased as she paused again, presumably to decide how best to proceed.

"My mom's maiden name was Melissa Vance," she finished, watching me intently.

My reaction was all she could have hoped for as, mouth open, I gaped at her. After a few minutes, I recovered enough to stammer out a question.

"You...you're telling me that you're like multimillionaire rich?"

I mean, they had a nice house and all, but it was more like a doctor or lawyer's house would be, not like an 'I could buy a yacht, five cars, a couple of mansions, and do nothing but sail around the world for the rest of my life' kind of house.

"Well...yeah. My mom was an only child, and when both of her parents were killed in a yachting accident," ah hah...I knew there was a yacht in there somewhere, "she inherited it all."

"Then why the dog didn't you hire a hit man to take out Craig the jerk face Telson? You could have afforded the best."

What I really meant to ask was why she hadn't used her "resources" to do something to the jerk to pay him back for his treatment of her since they obviously had more money than the Telsons, but she knew what I meant.

"CeeCee," her tone was reproachful, she was definitely too good to be my best friend, but then she rather spoiled that impression by giggling and saying, "Don't think it didn't cross my mind at the time. You wouldn't believe the ideas I had. But you know, I'm actually glad I didn't do anything to him because he brought us together."

"Speaking of which, since today seems to be the day for revelations, there is something I've been dying to ask you, but I suppose I was afraid of the answer." Taking a deep breath, I plunged right in, "Why in the world did you pick me as your best friend? I mean, even with the rumors circulating about you and practically every guy in school," I teased to lighten the moment, "you could have had your pick of girls to be friends with...why me? Were you just feeling sorry for me?"

"Sorry for you?" Felicia repeated incredulously. "You are the last person I would feel sorry for. Sympathy—yes, pity—no. I admired you. You not only stood up to Craig, you punched him out! Even when everyone in school was talking about you behind your back and calling you names, you held your head high. I, on the other hand, skulked around trying to be invisible, cringing at the whispering I knew was going on, seriously thinking about making my parents move so I could switch schools, but all the time hoping, I am now ashamed to admit, that another gossip target would show up to take the spotlight off of me...and you did. I watched you for a few days, knowing how you were feeling, debating about what to do. I wanted to introduce myself, but wasn't sure if you would reject me. Your strength is what finally gave me the courage to approach you that day in the cafeteria. You faced everything and everybody head-on, looking people in the eye until they broke eye contact. I had to meet you. You give me the courage I lack." Pausing, trying to lighten the mood, she finished dramatically, "And the rest, as they say, is history."

Silently, I tried to digest all that information.

Ever since we'd met, I'd felt like our relationship was all lop-sided, that Felicia was doing all of the giving, and I was doing all of the taking.

Apparently, she'd been feeling the same thing but reversed. I wasn't sure I could explain how much she had given me, I wasn't as good at verbalizing my feelings out loud as she was, but I knew I had to try.

"I had no idea you...I thought...oh, how do I say this?"

I had to find a way. I began again.

"You make me a better person. When we're together I feel like the sun is always shining. Of course, in Texas it usually is," I joked, feeling a little embarrassed. "You give me..." I searched frantically for the right word for how I felt whenever Felicia was around, it was more than just happiness, suddenly a song from my childhood popped into my head, that was the right word, "...joy. Yeah, that's it!" I exulted, that was exactly it. "When we moved here, I had no joy. You gave that back to me."

Well, I would never win a Pulitzer, that was for sure, but I'd managed to get my point across.

We sat silently for a minute, each pondering the other's revelation.

"I have another question," I stated gravely.

"Okay."

I could tell she was wondering what other serious topic I was about to bring up.

"Is this food just to look at, or are we planning on eating it any time in the near future?"

Laughing in relief, we grabbed a couple of paper plates and starting pigging out.

A thought occurred to me a little while later and, in between bites, I asked, "So your parents really aren't an author and an artist? Is that just a cover or what?"

I thought Felicia was going to choke on her pizza. About to stand and administer the Heimlich maneuver, it took me a moment to realize that she was laughing with her mouth full and was attempting not to spit food on me.

Waiting patiently, well as patiently as I was able, for her to calm down so she could finish chewing and swallowing her food, I wondered if she was going to need a straightjacket and a padded cell as she continued laughing so hard tears were streaming down her cheeks.

A couple of minutes later, wiping the wetness from her eyes, she was finally coherent enough to attempt an explanation of her merriment.

"Sorry, you side-tracked me with your question and I totally forgot to tell you what I consider the best part of the story," she began, still having a little trouble controlling herself.

"So you're telling me there is something better than discovering you're filthy rich?" I asked disbelievingly.

"Money doesn't mean all that much to my parents. See, Mom, who would have been a starving artist if her parents hadn't been filthy rich, had fallen in love and married my dad, a poor, broke writer wannabe working at a coffee shop to make ends meet, against her parents' wishes, I might add."

From the little I knew about her parents, I could certainly believe that.

"My grandparents swore they would disown her, and they meant to, but never got around to writing a will. With her being their only child, when they were killed in the yachting accident, she got everything. She didn't expect it, but wasn't about to turn it down. She wanted to paint; Dad wanted to travel—he'd never been out of Texas—and write about it. Mom couldn't seem to sell a painting, and Dad's travel books were getting rejection slips on a regular basis, so they decided, since they had this huge windfall, to make their dreams come true."

She paused to make sure I was listening. I was on the edge of my seat.

"Go on, what did they do?" I asked impatiently.

"They bought an art gallery and a publishing house," she finished triumphantly biting off a huge chunk of pizza with great satisfaction.

"You've got to be kidding me!" I exclaimed.

"Nope," she assured me, talking around the pizza in her mouth. "Oh man, we're going to run late if we don't start the first movie now."

"First movie," I repeated in a daze.

"Oh yeah, did I forget to mention...this is a movie marathon birthday surprise. I can't believe you haven't ever seen an Agent Jack Knight movie. That is just nuts! They are the absolute best! So we're going to watch movies one and two here, then tonight I am taking you to the movie theater for the third one that came out during the summer," she said smugly.

"Of course you are."

I was completely shell shocked. I thought nothing else could surprise me at that point. I was wrong.

"Oh, by the way," Felicia mentioned with feigned casualness, "Did I tell you that my parents' publishing company is the one that publishes the Agent Jack Knight books?"

"Of course they do," I murmured dazedly.

"I don't know the author's real name, but I do know that I. M. Donne is just his penname," she tacked on.

"Of course it is," I said numbly.

Felicia took a long look at me and, without another word, turned down the lights, and started the movie.

Chapter 9

Dear Diary,

Mom hates me...again.

CeeCee

The two weeks after the funeral were much better than I'd anticipated because Mark had given me a lifeline: my new cell phone. Being able to talk with him once a day made everything right with the world, no matter how short the conversation.

Our arrangement was for me to call him each night in between my nightly run and bedtime. That actually accomplished two things:

Number 1: Mark could keep tabs on me, making sure I was home safely every night.

I had known all along that Mark was uncomfortable with my being out every morning and every evening, even though the place was well patrolled and there were call boxes placed strategically around the trails, but there was nothing he could do about it. That was the main reason he came with me whenever he was home; running wasn't his favorite type of exercise. Because of my routine phone calls, he slept better at night because he knew I was safe, and I slept better at night because I got to talk him. We were both happy.

Number 2: I could keep him up-to-date on Mom.

The week after the funeral had been full of teacher workdays and in-service. Instead of taking any days off, which everyone would have understood, Mom was at school every day from dawn until dusk getting ready for the new school year. She even worked on Saturday and Sunday that weekend, skipping church, which was a first for her.

Occasionally, in the past, she would miss church, but always because Dad couldn't go. Even after he was wheelchair bound, once Mom got the handicapped van, they tried never to miss. Although I hadn't been attending faithfully—alright I had flat refused to go—it felt so wrong for Mom to miss like that.

Assuming she would want to go, and not go alone, I had invited Felicia to come with us. After Felicia had gotten over the surprise, I hadn't gone to church since she had known me, she agreed.

Then Mom ditched us.

Every day during that first week of school, I would finish my after school weight training and look for Mom's car in the parking lot to see if she was still there. She wasn't. I assumed she would be home, but there was no sign of her there either.

Felicia and I would do homework, grab some supper, and then finish whatever homework we had left. If there was anything interesting on the tube, which didn't happen very often since we only had a handful of channels available through our antenna, we would watch a little of that, then Felicia would head home, and I would head out for my nightly run.

By bedtime, I would be so worn out that I couldn't keep my eyes open, no matter how hard I tried. In the morning, there would be a note on the fridge saying that she had already left for work. Even Thursday, when Felicia and I had skipped school, and not gotten home until after 11 pm, she was still out somewhere.

Friday, my plan was to call Mark, as usual, after my run, and see what he thought. Should I try to stay awake to catch Mom or wait for him on Saturday?

When I returned home from running, however, I was shocked to see that Mom was already there. I was fully unprepared for that, which would probably explain why our conversation started badly and went downhill from there.

"You're home."

Good CeeCee...nice start, I berated myself.

"Did you want something to eat?" she asked casually as she opened the fridge, the same fridge that had housed the only communications from her all week, that same rotten note every morning that simply said "already left for school" and nothing else.

"Do I want something to eat?" I repeated in disbelief. "Do I want something to eat? I haven't seen you in a week, I have no idea where you've been, or what you've been doing, and you ask if I want something to eat! You have got to be kidding me!"

"I suggest you change your tone of voice," Mom warned.

"Change my tone of voice? That's all you've got to say for yourself?"

"No, change your tone of voice and stop repeating everything I say."

"Okay...I will stop repeating, and change my tone of voice when you explain where you've been all stinkin' week."

"I am the parent, you are the child. I suggest you go to your room and cool off before we both say something we will regret."

Through the red mist of anger that seemed to be covering my eyes, I saw her go into her bedroom, and heard her firmly shut and lock the door.

I could barely see to get upstairs, angry tears poured uncontrollably out of my eyes. Slamming my bedroom door didn't seem to help, either.

Throwing myself on the bed, face down, I let myself bawl until I had no more tears left.

After the crying jag was over, I rolled onto my back and lay there staring at the ceiling, calling myself all kinds of stupid. The stress of not knowing what was going on with Mom all week must have affected me more than I realized.

That was a pretty weak defense, and I knew it. I dreaded telling Mark about it...I sat straight up in the bed, Mark...

The phone rang.

Honestly, I didn't want to answer it, to own up to what I had done, but my need to talk to Mark outweighed the guilt over my behavior.

Would I ever get anything right? I wondered despairingly.

"Hey," I could barely talk.

"CeeCee...? Are you ok? What's going on? Is Mom ok? Why haven't you called me?"

I don't think he even took a breath in between questions. I must have had him extremely worried.

"Everything is...fine," I tried to reassure him.

Of course, he was too smart for that.

"What's wrong, CeeCee?"

I knew I was going to lose it again. Trying to take deep, calming breaths didn't help. I burst into tears.

"CeeCee! Answer me," he demanded, anxiety clearly the overriding emotion in his voice, "is someone hurt?"

"Nooooo," I bawled.

"At least there's that," he replied heavily. "Let it all out, and we'll try again."

There was silence on his end while I tried to collect myself. I was thankful to have such a patient, understanding brother. I didn't deserve him.

"I'm okay now," I sniffed. "We're both fine...physically. Oh Mark, I feel so awful. I blew up at Mom again."

"Should I head that way tonight?"

"No, I don't want you driving this late," I sighed. "It'll keep until tomorrow."

He was just as worried about Mom as I was, but he would have handled it better than I had.

"I'm sorry, Mark. I really was going to wait until you got here. I didn't expect her to be home. I should have known I would blow it. I always do." I finished morosely.

"Don't beat yourself up, Sis," Mark said soothingly, "I'll be there as soon as I can tomorrow. Love you."

"Love you, too," I whispered, too drained to do otherwise.

After we hung up, I lay on my bed staring wearily at the ceiling, so worn out that it wasn't long before I was sound asleep, not even bothering to undress.

Dear Diary,

Mark is coming!

CeeCee

When I awoke, I felt absolutely disgusting. I thought about taking a shower before my run, since I had missed it the night before, but decided to get out of the house as quickly as possible in order to avoid accidentally running into Mom before Mark could get there. I didn't want a repeat of the previous night, and I wasn't sure I would be any less angry if faced with Mom's nonchalance again. I could still feel traces of it...not good.

When I got back to the house, I snuck in quietly, not wanting to wake up Mom, or at least that was what I told myself. I was such a coward sometimes...okay, most of the time.

After my shower, I was in much better shape to face the day. I knew I should go downstairs and eat breakfast, but I was stalling. I wasn't in that good of shape.

I would have called Felicia, but she always slept in until ten o'clock on Saturdays. Since she was my only friend, I hesitated to alienate her by depriving her of her beauty rest, not that she needed any.

Beauty rest, that phrase conjured up other memories, memories I had been trying to shove in a closet somewhere in my mind.

That closet door must have burst open, because suddenly I was remembering golden brown eyes, a deep sexy voice—even thinking that word embarrassed me, but it definitely applied—and a soft, sweet, earth shattering kiss...STOP!

I groaned and covered my face with my hands. I had been able to suppress those thoughts and emotions, for the most part, over the past two weeks, but whenever they surfaced, they seemed to take over.

While Felicia and I were watching the Agent Jack Knight movies on my birthday, there had been so many women constantly trying to seduce him the poor guy that it was hard not to think of...well things like that. I had never been much of a moviegoer, always preferring to read and interpret the books myself, rather than having movie directors shove their version down my throat, but I had to admit, those three movies were fun.

Felicia loved saying, "I told you so." She had been bugging me about those first two movies for a year. She was the movie buff of the century.

Anyway, seeing those movies sparked a desire in me to read the books. The titles themselves cracked me up. Agent Jack Knight: The Beginning was, of course, the first one. After that, it was Agent Jack Knight: China and then Agent Jack Knight: Russia. They were all like that.

Then there was his penname: I. M. Donne. It had to be more than a coincidence that it sounded like I Am Done. From reading the books, I could tell that the author had a sense of humor very similar to mine.

Funny, as much as Felicia loved the movies, it would never cross her mind to read any of the books. In her opinion, books were the spawn of the devil and, being the total opposite of me in almost every way, had probably never read a whole book in her life that wasn't required for school and it was very possible she had never finished one of those either. She always seemed to be able to find a movie version and use study guides to get her through her English classes.

Hearing a pickup pulling in the driveway, I flew to the window in excitement. Mark must have gotten off about the same time I got up to run, because he was much earlier than I had anticipated.

Looking out the window I suddenly froze. Wait, that wasn't Mark's pickup, but it did look vaguely familiar...oh no he didn't! He couldn't be here.

NO! I screamed silently. I don't want him here. He'll ruin everything! I don't have any idea how to even act around him...not today of all days.

I was so panicked I didn't notice Mark waving up at me from the front yard at first. I quickly waved back, and stepped away from the window, careful to avoid looking in Nick's direction.

What do I do? What do I do? I asked myself repeatedly.

I wanted to run down and throw myself in Mark's arms as I usually did, but I wasn't sure how Nick's presence would affect my behavior.

Breathe, just breathe, I told myself desperately.

There was nothing for it but to go down and act as naturally as possible.

Taking two more deep breaths, I reluctantly opened my door and slowly descended the stairs into Mark's waiting arms.

Chapter 10

Dear Diary,

Mom got me a laptop.

CeeCee

After I finished hugging Mark, I was relieved to notice that Mom was already there, welcoming Nick. I relinquished my hold on Mark reluctantly so Mom could get her hug, and determined to be as normal as possible with Nick, I turned toward him to say hi or something.

That was a mistake.

As soon as I saw the amused...smirk was the only word I could come up with...on his face, the greeting died in my throat and my hand twitched, itching to slap it off his face. He knew exactly what I was feeling, why I was feeling it, and was laughing at me.

"Still have that temper I see," he murmured quietly, so only I could hear. "I wouldn't try it if I were you; I wouldn't be as easy a target as lover boy obviously was."

He had apparently seen my hand twitch.

Problem solved...at least I knew how to treat Nick. I glared, then turned my back on him and tried to concentrate on what Mom and Mark were saying.

"Okay, that sounds good. We can go right now and be back in a little over half an hour," Mark agreed.

"Where are you going?"

I must have missed something.

"Mark is going to drive me to school to pick up a few things," Mom was all sparkly, not at all like last night, "We'll be back shortly."

"I could help, too," I offered eagerly.

Please don't leave me here alone with Nick, I begged silently.

"Thanks, but we'll need all of the room in the back seat for the...stuff,"Mom substituted at the last minute.

Before I could protest, they were already outside.

I was still staring at the door, not wanting to turn around, when that hated voice said, "Well, looks like it's just you and me."

I whipped around to face Nick.

"No," I contradicted, "it's just you. I have things to do in my room."

I started toward the stairs, but halted abruptly when I heard Nick laughingly say, "That's fine with me, I'm sure I'll enjoy this visit to your room as much as I did the last one."

"You...are...not...invited," I slowly enunciated every word in case he was too dense to understand.

"I'm beginning to think you don't like me," Nick said in fake amazement.

"What gave you the first clue?" I asked sarcastically.

"You know, you are the hostess, so it's your duty to entertain me," Nick reminded me.

"Apparently, I already do," I retorted angrily.

"True, I should probably rephrase," Nick conceded. "You are the hostess; therefore I shall follow wherever you lead."

Evaluating him through narrowed eyes, I decided he meant what he said. I had no desire to have him in my room, or maybe I should say I had a strong desire to have him in my room, but I didn't want to want him in my room. I was so confused.

"Oh alright, we can sit in the living room and flip through the few channels we have on TV," I conceded ungraciously.

"I have a better idea," Nick took my hand and led me to the door, "let's go for a walk."

"I don't want to go for a walk with you."

I yanked at my hand in a desperate attempt to free it from his grasp.

"Come on, don't be a spoilsport," he coaxed.

"Fine," I gave in, quickly, "you can give me back my hand now."

He chuckled, adjusted his grip, and had me out the front door before I could say anything else. I fervently wished that I wasn't enjoying said grip.

"What, so you can run off as soon as I let go?" he asked knowingly, adding, "I don't think so."

We walked side by side silently for a few minutes and I was even beginning to enjoy it. Maybe he did like me a little bit.

My head was suddenly filled with "The Kiss," only it went further, he wasn't stopping; he wasn't leaving; we were locked in a passionate embrace. The image took my breath away. I was eighteen, after all...

Abruptly intruding into my daydreams he said, all humor gone, "You need to cut your mom some slack."

That was what the whole thing was about...the walk, the hand-holding, admittedly it was more like hand imprisonment but still...it was mortifying. Tears quickly sprang to the surface. I seemed to have lost all control over my tear ducts since...

Don't go there, I warned myself sternly.

I will not cry, I will not cry, I kept repeating it over and over in my head, determined not to let him see how disappointed I was, how I had, in spite of my best efforts not to, started to build fantasies around him in my head.

I felt like an idiot. I was an idiot.

Nick watched me speculatively, waiting to see my reaction. I would give him a reaction, all right.

But no...I couldn't give him the one I wanted to, I would have to come up with one I could live with, one he wouldn't be expecting, a toned down version to show my maturity.

Maturity, ha, that was a laugh. What I yearned to do was stick my tongue out at him, call him names, and run away.

Great, CeeCee, very mature, I chided myself.

I might not be a mature adult on the inside, but maybe I could project one on the outside.

"You need to butt out of my business," I told him loftily, with barely a hint of anger. Eyes straight ahead, careful not to look at him, I added, "You know nothing about it."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his eyes narrow for a split second.

"Actually, I know more about it than you do," he contradicted smoothly.

"What are you talking about?" I asked facing him in angry confusion.

"Mark called your mom last night after he got off the phone with you. You can ask him when he gets back. Suffice it to say, I know more about your mom's situation than you do, and I am telling you to back off and give her some space."

How dare he? Who did he think he was, telling me how to treat my own mother?

Once again, desperately yanking at my hand, I knew I had to get away before I made a complete fool of myself in public by taking a swing at him and that was when it dawned on me...he had been counting on that, the fact that even I wouldn't attack him in public. That was why he had suggested, no...ordered was more like it...that we take a walk.

I was beyond furious.

He tightened his grip again, commanding in a low tone, "Behave your self, CeeCee."

Children playing in the front yard of one of the houses stopped their game of tag to watch us.

"Take...me...home," I demanded between clenched teeth, "Now!"

"I will," Nick agreed, "As long as you promise to play nicely today."

"I despise you!" I hissed.

"I can live with that," he calmly assured me. "Your promise...?"

"Fine," I huffed, "I promise," I threw at him childishly.

"Good, your mom has worked hard to make today special for you so I expect you to show the appropriate amount of appreciation."

"Whatever," I had no idea what he meant. How could my mom have done anything when she hadn't been home all week? "I want to go back now."

Releasing my hand at long last, Nick turned back in the direction of the house. Forgetting all of my good intentions, I behaved exactly like the child he obviously thought me to be. Rubbing my hand where his grip had turned it red, I muttered "Jerk" under my breath, just loud enough for him to hear, stuck out my tongue, and ran.

So much for maturity...

Felicia was waiting on the porch when I got home. We hadn't locked the door, so grabbing Felicia by the hand I practically flew into the house dragging her with me. I hustled her up the stairs and into my room before she even had a chance to catch her breath.

"What was that all about?" she asked breathlessly.

"Nick's here," I replied shortly.

"Cool, I thought I recognized the pickup outside. So where is everyone?"

"Mark and Mom had to go to the school to pick up some things."

"And Nick...?"

"He's around someplace," I replied vaguely.

"So why did you drag me up here like someone was after you?" she asked bewildered.

I suddenly didn't want her to know what had just happened. I had to admit that it didn't put me in a very good light. Searching furiously in my mind for a logical, believable answer to her question, I hit on one.

"I wanted to tell you about last night," I hedged.

"Oh yeah, what happened with your mom?" she asked curiously.

"She was too tired to talk last night," true enough, even though I hadn't been in any condition to notice at the time, "So Mark was going to ask her today." Also true, as far as I knew. "I thought I would give you a heads up before they got home that I am still in the dark, but it's okay, I am just going to forget about it right now and enjoy the day."

There...that should do it; it was the truth, even if not all of it.

"That sounds like a good plan," Felicia enthused. "Should we go down and wait for them?"

"I guess," I reluctantly agreed.

As we descended the stairs, I found myself wishing the day already over.

Mom and Mark were pulling into the garage by the time we got downstairs, and Nick went out to help them unload. I could hear them going in and out of the back door to the kitchen, presumably bringing in whatever it was they had gone to get.

Wanting to avoid Nick as long as possible, I waited at the dining room table and sent an eager Felicia into the kitchen to see what was happening. She was gone a long time, and when she came back, she wouldn't tell me anything.

We sat there waiting, not talking, until finally Mark came to get me.

"We're ready now," he said as he pulled me into the kitchen.

Mom had gone all out.

There were balloons floating around, streamers hanging from the ceiling, and a huge banner spread across the tops of the cabinets that read, Happy 18th Birthday CeeCee! There was also a happy birthday tablecloth and a birthday cake with a little running figurine on it with the words Happy Birthday CeeCee! We love you! Someone had already lit the eighteen candles on the cake and the table surrounding the cake was fully loaded down with food.

By the time I had taken everything in, they were almost through singing happy birthday to me. Mom had invited Mrs. Murray from next door, Felicia's parents, and Mrs. Blanton their housekeeper.

She was throwing me a party.

Suddenly it came to me...I knew what was lower than a sewer rat.

I was the excretion from a sewer rat.

I couldn't let everyone stand around watching me cry, so to lighten the mood, after they'd finished singing, I managed to say in a joking voice, "I don't know about you, but I'm starving! Let's eat."

They insisted the birthday girl go first, so I grabbed a plate and dug in. I had no idea what I'd piled on my plate, I was too busy trying to listen to everyone talking to me at once, but it didn't matter, I knew Mom would have fixed all of my favorites.

As soon as I had filled my plate, I surreptitiously searched for Mom, located her standing by the sink waiting to hand out drinks to people, and casually made my way over there. Setting my plate on the counter, I gently put my arms around her and squeezed. I didn't care if I made us both cry...I needed her to know I was sorry...sorry about everything.

I whispered, "I love you" in her ear, and she whispered "I love you" back.

Releasing her, I picked up my plate, and made my way into the dining room to sit at the table. Thankfully, no one else had finished filling a plate yet, so I had few minutes to pull myself together.

After we had all stuffed ourselves, Mom decided I should open my presents. That was guaranteed to make me feel guilty; I knew I didn't deserve anything.

Nevertheless, I couldn't get out of it, so I gritted my teeth and started opening gifts.

The first one I picked up was from Mark, and it was about the size of a man's shoebox. I eyed it suspiciously and then eyed Mark even more suspiciously. He had frequently, over the years, given me a gag gift, holding the real gift back until later, just to see me react. One year he had even gift-wrapped some flies...live ones.

As soon as the box had opened, out came the flies. Mom was furious with him that year. They went straight for my cake.

Noticing my suspicious glare, he put his hands up in defensive gesture as if to say, "What did I do?"

What indeed!

Carefully taking off the wrapping paper, I noticed that he had taped the box up so heavily it would take me years to get into it.

"Um, anyone have a pocketknife handy?" I asked innocently.

"Need it to open the box?" Mr. Howell asked sympathetically as he handed me his.

"Nah, actually I was going to use it to murder my brother," I contradicted, "You don't mind do you?" I puckered my brow as if that hadn't occurred to me, adding, "I'll make sure to clean off most of the blood before giving it back."

I heard a few appreciative chuckles.

By the time I had cut through half of the tape, people weren't just chuckling, they were laughing heartily.

Glaring at Mark, I warned, "There better not be any flies in here."

Of course, people wanted to know that story, just as I knew they would, so Mark had to explain about his gag gifts.

I finally managed to lift the lid on the box, grateful that people were still engrossed in Mark's stories, and carefully peered inside. If he'd given me a gag gift, it wouldn't be nearly as embarrassing if people weren't all focused on me and my facial expressions. Thankfully, it wasn't.

I saw Mom heave a sigh of relief. I grinned at her and she grinned back. That felt good.

Mark had gotten me the whole set of Agent Jack Knight novels, eight in all. That was fast! I hadn't told him I was even interested in them until our Thursday night phone call.

Of course that also meant he had waited until the last minute to figure out what to get me...classic Mark...the procrastinator.

The movie had let out around ten, and I'd called him while Felicia drove me home. I did go out for a short run after the phone call, but no one knew that, and I didn't plan on enlightening anyone. I smiled at him and mouthed my thanks.

He was still in the middle of one of his gag gift stories...seeing as I'd had seventeen other birthdays, there were a lot of them.

I picked up the next gift, and saw that it was from Mrs. Murray. Apparently, it was my day for shoeboxes. Lifting the lid on the shoebox, I was thrilled to note that there were actual shoes in it. Wow! They were the running shoes I had asked Mom for a month ago, right before...I stopped myself short pushing the rest of the thought out of my mind.

Mom must have told Mrs. Murray about them, knowing I was not an easy person for which to buy. I got up and gave Mrs. Murray a hug.

Mark had finished with all of his gag gift stories by then, so people had regrettably refocused their attention on me.

The next present was in a brightly colored gift bag, with ribbons swirling around the handles, and matching tissue paper stuffed artfully inside the bag. I would recognize Felicia's handiwork anywhere.

I had told her not to buy me anything since she had furnished everything on Thursday—it hadn't been an inexpensive day—but apparently she hadn't listened to me.

Returning my reproachful look with a sheepish grin she said, "In my defense, that gift is from my parents and Mrs. Blanton, too."

They all nodded their agreement.

Reading the card, I realized she was telling the truth. All their names were there. Muttering under my breath about "loopholes," I pulled a box out of the sack.

Swallowing hard, I asked, "Is that just the box you wrapped it in, or..." I couldn't finish my question.

"Open it and see," Felicia replied smugly.

Felicia had been teasing me for ages about my old, outdated, MP3 player, threatening to buy me a new one for my birthday, but I had made her promise not to do it.

Well, she had definitely kept her promise; it wasn't a simple MP3 player.

I sat staring at the small black box in my hand wondering how she had managed to get me one when they weren't even out yet, wouldn't be for a couple of weeks when Felicia whispered quietly in my ear "You can't tell anyone until they come out next month."

I nodded speechlessly.

After what seemed ages, but in reality was only a few seconds, I was able to get up and go hug Mrs. Blanton and the Howells.

When I got to Felicia's hug, I murmured, "Better learn to sleep with your eyes open."

She was shaking with laughter when I released her. By the alarmed look on her parents' face, they must have thought she was having some type of a seizure.

I sat back down and picked up the smallest box on the table. Reading the card, my whole body froze. I had been studiously ignoring Nick, refusing to even acknowledge his existence, but I couldn't avoid opening his gift.

Taking a few deep breaths without appearing to do so, I slowly peeled off the wrapping paper and lifted the lid on the box.

Inside, nestled against black velvet, was the most exquisite silver charm bracelet I had ever seen, with a pair of miniature running shoes dangling from it.

I lifted the bracelet and lay it across the palm of my hand, examining the tiny shoes...gorgeous.

What do I do? I panicked.

I had hugged everyone else, except Mark, and I would make up for that later, but Nick...?

There's nothing else for it, I decided sourly. I'm not going to get out of it, so I might as well get it over with.

While everyone else was oohing and aahing over the bracelet, I got up and, avoiding Nick's eyes walked over and hugged him. Nick wouldn't release me until he had put his two-cents in.

"Now that wasn't so bad was it," he teased softly, directly into my ear.

"Matter of opinion," I muttered resentfully.

Pushing myself away from Nick, I returned to open the last gift...the largest. I had saved it for last—knowing it was from Mom—probably from guilt.

Whatever it was, I didn't deserve it. I knew Nick would agree.

Stop thinking about him, I scolded myself severely.

Determined to obey my own command, I picked up the gift and tore the wrapping paper off it. There was no way...it couldn't be...she must have picked the box up at school or something...tell me it wasn't...

"I wasn't sure which one to get you, CeeCee, but if you would rather have a different one, you could go with me to pick it out yourself," Mom said anxiously, when I didn't immediately say anything. "Mark thought this would be the best one for you."

"You...bought me...a laptop?" was all I could get out.

I couldn't handle it, I had to go; I didn't want anyone to see me totally lose it.

Not able to think straight, just reacting, I jumped up, ran out the front door, and kept on running.

No one would understand. The only other person who could have understood was dead.

Instinctively, my steps took me to the one place I could always count on to calm me. No one was out jogging...the temperature was in the high '90s...so I found a bench, curled up into a ball, and let myself cry...and remember...

"But that is so unfair!" I wailed.

"I'm sorry sweetheart, but we can't afford to buy you both one, and your brother needs it for college," Dad replied apologetically.

"I need it for high school," I countered tearfully. "Everyone else already has one."

"In a couple of years..."

"A couple of years...!" I shrieked. "I could be dead in a couple of years."

My dad's lips twitched at that, but he hadn't meant for me to see it.

"You're laughing at me!" I accused, "Just like Serena will be laughing at me, laughing and making fun of me because I don't have a laptop."

"CeeCee, not everyone has a laptop."

"All my friends do," I returned haughtily.

"Then I am sure your friends won't mind if you borrow their laptops sometimes," Dad reasoned.

"It doesn't work that way," I replied scornfully. "We all have to be on at the same time so we can IM."

"IM...?"

"Instant Message, don't you know anything?"

I should have realized that was going too far, even for my easy going dad, but I was, as usual, wrapped up in my own selfish world. Sadly, I hadn't changed much.

"That's enough, young lady. You may get a laptop when you are about to go to college...if you're lucky. At this rate, you will be fortunate if I don't ground you for a month...a year. Now go to your room, before I decide to give you the spanking I think you deserve."

It was difficult to make my dad angry, but I had succeeded. Cringing, I forced myself to watch the rest of it replaying in my head...the part that ripped my heart out every time I thought of it...the part I regretted more than anything else I'd ever done in my life or probably ever would do.

"I hate you! Do you hear me? Hate you! I wish you were dead!"

Night had fallen as I sat there, remembering and crying.

After a while, I finally rose and made my way back home again. All the cars were gone except for Nick's pickup. At least that meant Mark hadn't left yet. I wondered how they had explained my abrupt departure to the guests.

I quietly made my way upstairs to my bedroom.

All of my gifts were there, sitting on my bed. I groaned. I didn't want any of them. I especially didn't want the laptop. It would be too...painful.

Every time I looked at it, I would hear those horrid words I had thrown at my dad. I tried to remember why a laptop had been so important to me, but it just seemed silly in the face of everything else that had happened.

Not wanting to touch the things on my bed, I sank to the floor.

How do I explain it to them?

They would think I was crazy that a laptop could set off that type of reaction, but I figured they already suspected I was a candidate for the nuthouse.

I was an emotional mess; I knew that.

What I didn't know was how to fix it.

Looking back, I could honestly admit that I had been well on my way to becoming a spoiled brat by the time we moved. I'd been a junior high track star, all my friends were the popular kids in school, and I resented having to leave and start over in a new place where I knew no one.

Meeting people had never been easy for me. Living in the same town my whole life up to that point, there hadn't been a need for me to develop that skill. Remembering back to junior high I knew I had been guilty of treating new kids pretty much the same way I had been treated my freshman year at the new school...like I was invisible. Even though my freshman year we all started a new school at the same time, most of the other students already had their cliques from whatever junior high they had attended.

I didn't know anyone.

Instantly, I'd become a loner.

Suffering through school each day, eating lunch alone, and just trying to survive, I'd kept my head down and trudged along...Invisible seemed a better option than other possibilities.

Once I joined the cross-country and track teams, I found I had a place to eat lunch but, even though I sat with the team, I still didn't participate much.

Between my dad's disease, and the rejection I had suffered in high school up to that point, happiness had become a fairy tale. Allowing myself to become a nonentity those first two years in high school, my self-esteem had plummeted to zero.

Things might have turned out differently if I hadn't overheard the conversation between my old 'friend' Serena and some of my other "friends" right before we moved to the new place.

Serena Abbot, the undisputed leader of the 'populars', had invited me to join her group at the end of my seventh grade year, which explained my popularity.

I did wonder at first why those girls would suddenly take an interest in me when they had ignored me all the way up through and including 6th grade and most of 7th, but I had shrugged it off, not wanting anything to spoil my chance to be with the "in" crowd.

My parents decided not to tell me we were moving until I'd finished eighth grade. They realized it would really upset me, and they didn't want to ruin the end of the school year for me.

As usual, I reacted badly, and ran out of the house in tears headed straight for Serena's house in need of sympathy. What I got was an earful.

One of the maids answered the door, and directed me upstairs when I asked for Serena.

The Abbots were one of the richest families in town. Their house was huge, and they hired live-in maids from somewhere...no one was exactly sure where...to keep the house spotless. Mr. Abbot's family had been ranchers for generations, not rich, but doing okay for themselves, but Mr. Abbot's father, Serena's grandfather, had gone in a different direction. Investing heavily in drilling equipment, he began searching for oil on his land, and struck it rich. Serena's dad had joined the new family business, but insisted on building his house in town. He hated the ranch.

I heard the girls talking before I made it to the top of the stairs. Confident that they would understand and sympathize with me, I reached to push the slightly open door the rest of the way, but froze as their conversation and laughter reached my ears, suddenly feeling sick to my stomach.

"...the cow."

"I can't believe we wasted all that time on her," Kathy complained.

"Yeah, Serena, you promised us it would be worth it," Chelsea chimed in.

"How was I to know they would be moving before we got into high school," Serena defended herself. "Besides, I got to be on the sidelines with the players at one of the high school football games."

"You did, but what about us? We were supposed to get something out of it, too," Kathy again "letting her trail after us all the time was a pain."

"Yeah," agreed Chelsea.

"Look, the new football coach may end up having a daughter our age," Serena soothed them, "and I did get to know a couple of the junior players. They'll be seniors next year."

I hadn't stayed around to listen to anymore. Getting down the stairs wasn't easy with the blinding tears, but I made it out the front door without anyone realizing I had been there. I doubt Serena ever talked to the servants, that would be beneath her, so she would probably never know...or care.

My first two years in the new high school might have gone much differently if I hadn't overheard that confidence-destroying conversation, but at least it had stopped me in my tracks. I had been in danger of becoming a "Serena Clone".

Instead, I had turned into one of the invisible "new kids" that had only been noticed when Serena needed them to make herself feel better by becoming the butt of her jokes; the jokes I had laughed at...ironic.

Again, I wondered what I would have done if Felicia hadn't come along. She changed all of that. I had to believe that I was a better person...I needed to believe it.

I guess I should start proving it, I sighed.

Standing up, I made a decision. Mom and I need to talk and as soon as possible.

Chapter 11

Dear Diary,

Mom and I are okay.

CeeCee

After making up my mind to talk to Mom right away, I headed downstairs in search of her. I found Mark and Nick sitting in the living room discussing their plans for the next day.

"CeeCee!" Mark jumped up to hug me. "What were you thinking, running off like that without even taking your cell phone?"

"I'm sorry, Mark, truly...sorrier than you know, but right now I need to talk to Mom," I smiled at him apologetically.

I ignored Nick. I hadn't 'played nicely'. Add breaking promises to my growing list of sins.

"She's in the kitchen."

Mom sat at the kitchen table, staring at the undisturbed birthday cake. I didn't know exactly how to begin, how to fix the massive mess I'd made, and I certainly wouldn't blame her if she couldn't forgive me, but I had to try.

"Mom...?" I began tentatively.

"Do you remember the year you wanted a puppy for your birthday?" Mom asked in a curiously dead voice, still staring at the cake.

"My eighth birthday," I replied in bewilderment.

"You never knew why you couldn't have one."

It was almost like she didn't have enough energy left to inject any life in her voice.

That scared me. It was even worse than I had expected. She couldn't bring herself to even look at me.

"Dad told me he thought I was too young to be responsible for that big of a commitment," I reminded her.

"That wasn't the true reason. I was the reason you didn't get a puppy," she paused and then asked, "What year was the bike?"

"My ninth birthday," I responded carefully, not sure where the conversation was going. "Dad said he didn't see anything wrong with the old one and painted it for me."

"I wouldn't let him buy you a new bike, either...the laptop?"

"The end of my eighth grade year," the conversation was getting weird. "Not enough money."

"I was the reason for all of those, plus some I probably don't even remember, but I'm sure that you do," she paused again. "Your father would have bought you anything you ever asked for, but I wouldn't let him."

"Is this the part where I ask why?"

I could feel anger building in me, but I tried to subdue it.

"Only if you want to know the answer," Mom had injected a bit more life in her voice, "there's no reason to hide the truth now that James is gone.

"Okay, I want to know the truth, I want to know why Dad was always taking the brunt of my anger, while you were hiding in the wings," I demanded, more than a little upset.

"First, I'll explain my reasons for denying you what you wanted; after that I'll explain why Dad always took the blame. They are two totally different things," I was impatient for her to get on with it, but she seemed at a loss for a moment.

After a few minutes she continued, "I am deathly afraid of dogs...not just scared, literally terrified, because I was attacked by a neighbor's Chihuahua when I was very young. I still have the scars. Your father didn't know about that until he mentioned that he had promised you a dog. I went ballistic. That's why he changed his mind, went back on his promise to you. I didn't want him to buy you a new bike because the only reason you wanted one was to keep up with, um, what was that little girl's name?"

"Serena," I supplied.

"Yes, that was the one. I never liked her. She was a snobby little girl...malicious and manipulative, just like...anyway, I didn't want you to be like her. The laptop thing was similar, but it was more than that. Mark had to wait until college to get one and as much as your dad wanted to give in and get you one, too, I thought you should have to wait. Your dad gave into you more than I wanted him to and you were becoming spoiled. I was all for moving. I just prayed it wasn't too late to keep you from becoming another Serena."

Mom stopped and rubbed her forehead as if she had a headache. She probably did...my fault again, no doubt.

"I understand now that I was spoiled, but I didn't see it at the time. Everyone I hung around with always got whatever they wanted, and that made it feel...normal. I was too young to see how bad it was for me, but I still don't see why Dad was always playing the bad guy."

As much as I understood her reasons, I wasn't about to let her off the hook for being a coward.

"Your dad was always a little...protective of me. There are some things your dad and I never told you, things about when we first met, but they have a lot to do with the fact that your dad refused to ever let me 'play the bad guy' as you put it."

"Dad wouldn't let you take responsibility for your own decisions?"

Why was I not surprised? Dad had always been overprotective of Mom.

"When we first met, your father hurt me...emotionally, not physically. Then, because I fell in love with him, some other people caused me physical as well as emotional pain. For whatever reason, he blamed himself for all of it. I can't go into details..."

I interrupted, "Can't or won't?"

Mom looked at me for the first time since I had entered the kitchen.

"Okay, won't then. I was in bad shape for a while, and your dad was never able to forget that, or forgive himself for it, no matter what I said. He vowed to himself that he would protect me from hurt. He never wanted to see me in that much pain again."

I was catching her drift and I didn't like it.

"Dad felt he had to protect you from me?"

"CeeCee," Mom's voice gentled, "How many times did you tell your father you hated him?"

Tears filled my eyes at the question.

"I never meant it."

"I know that, and deep down so did Dad. You've always been very intense; you get that from him. I told him it was just a type of manipulation you had learned from your...friends, but he... well, he became very good at heading you off before you could make it to me," she smiled, "You know he would have given you the moon if I had let him."

"I loved him," I said tearfully.

"He knew that," Mom assured me, "You told him frequently."

"More often than I said...the other thing...?"

I was almost afraid to ask.

"Try to count the number of times he said 'Ditto Kiddo' to you and that should tell you something," Mom smiled. "You know he only said that to you when you told him you loved him first." Mom gave me a second to digest that. "You just resorted to the 'other thing' when he refused to give you something you wanted, which was not often, mainly when I put my foot down. You get your intensity from your dad, but your temper is all me." Mom even chuckled a little at that. Soberly she added, "I had to work hard at not taking advantage of him myself because he could never deny me anything I wanted either. I couldn't even wish out loud for something the way most people do for fear that your dad would kill himself trying to get it for me."

"I'm sorry I've been so...awful," I couldn't possibly think of a word terrible enough to describe the way I had been acting, so I had to settle. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I didn't mean any of what I said at the hospital."

"Did you know that your dad wanted me to put him in a facility?"

Mom looked pained.

"He wanted that?"

"If you stop and think about it, CeeCee, you will see that it makes perfect sense when taken in context with everything else I've told you," Mom stopped and looked at me expectantly.

"He was worried about you," I concluded.

"And you," Mom added.

"Me!" I exclaimed in surprise. "But I wasn't the one wearing myself out taking care of him, you were."

"That was exactly his point. I was so busy having to take care of him that I neglected myself and you." She shook her head sadly. "He was right, you know. I neglected you."

"You're not going to blame yourself for my idiotic behavior," I told her angrily. "I am responsible for that."

"Well this last week I didn't help much."

I couldn't argue with her on that one. She continued.

"I managed to get all of your birthday preparations done while I was at school, but I dreaded coming home to an empty house every evening so I found some volunteer work to do. I didn't want to tell you because I...well I didn't want to admit my reasons even to myself, much less to you," she admitted sheepishly. "I've had so much to do for so long, I didn't know what to do with my free time, and if I had let myself just sit around I knew I would start feeling sorry for myself. I developed guilt feelings for abandoning you this week so I went a little overboard with your party."

"The party was great, Mom, I just had such a shock when I saw the laptop. It reminded me of the horrid things I had said to Dad because he wouldn't let me have one years ago."

I wasn't sure I wanted to admit anymore to Mom, but since we were communicating for the first time in a long time, I didn't want anything to be left unsaid.

"I told him I wished he were...dead," I finished on a whisper.

Mom stood up and hugged me then.

"CeeCee, you know you had nothing to do with Dad getting sick and dying."

I couldn't help it. I let loose with the crying again. When I was through, I noticed that she was not dry-eyed either. We smiled at each other through our tears.

"Guess we should go join Mark and Nick," Mom decided, blotting her eyes and leading the way. "They're probably wondering what's going on in here."

I hesitated a moment, swiping at my own eyes with the back of my hands then followed her into the living/dining room.

They were indeed wondering, I could tell by the looks on their faces, but they didn't ask.

"I hate to talk and run," I paraphrased, avoiding their eyes, "but..."

"Go," Mom commanded, then smiled to let me know it was all good.

"If you don't mind giving me a few minutes, I'll go with you," Mark offered.

"That would be great!"

I smiled at him gratefully, making sure he knew I wanted him to come. We needed to talk.

Chapter 12

Dear Diary,

Felicia and I have dates.

CeeCee

By the time we finished our run, Mark had been fully informed about everything I wanted him to know. I couldn't tell anyone about the weird mixed up feelings I was having about Nick, especially Nick's roommate, brother or not.

When we arrived back at the house, the mixed up feelings were even more indecipherable. Mom and Nick were sitting on the couch laughing and talking as if they'd known each other for years. I wanted to cry, throw up, and shake them both, all at the same time.

Instead, I said goodnight, smiled—probably more of a grimace—and headed upstairs to take my shower. Mark would just have to wait for his.

While standing under the spray, I replayed our "running" conversation in my mind. After regaling Mark with my fascinating tale, he had informed me that:

1. He and Nick were spending the night. Nick had an inflatable mattress that he was going to put on the floor in Mark's room.

2. Church attendance in the morning was mandatory.

He'd already invited Felicia for me; I didn't argue. The first one was totally out of my control, and the second one was something I needed to do anyway. I had a lot to answer for.

After cleaning off my bed, I fell asleep almost immediately, worn out from the day's emotional upheavals.

I slept like a log.

Up at 5:30 as usual to run, I felt more refreshed than I had in a long time. As I reached the front door, I realized I had forgotten my cell phone. Turning around quickly, I ran into a brick wall.

"Whoa," the brick wall whispered, holding my shoulders to steady me.

"What do you think you're doing?" I hissed furiously reacting violently to the feel of his hands and shrugging to dislodge them.

"Following you," Nick replied calmly releasing me, "or I was until you decided to turn around and ram me. Did you forget something?"

"My cell phone...not that it's any of your business," I answered rudely, "and why were you following me?"

"I jog every morning," as if that explained everything.

"So?" I asked belligerently.

"You know where the jogging trail is," he explained with exaggerated patience as if I were a child he had to humor.

"Fine," I huffed, "but don't expect me to slow down for you."

"I doubt that will be a problem," he replied in amusement, and as I attempted to get past him, he added, "I have my cell phone, don't worry about yours."

With that, he spun me around and shoved me out of the house.

Without waiting for him to close the door, and trying not to think about how muscular he looked in his white t-shirt and jean cutoffs, I took off running.

I always did my stretching up in my room before starting out, but I spitefully hoped he hadn't.

Serve him right if he got a cramp, I thought angrily, pushing himself on me like this.

As a general rule, I ran to the jogging trail in the mornings—which was approximately a mile away—and counted it as part of my run, but sometimes at night, in deference to my parent's idea of safety, I used to drive.

My mom had, unintentionally I was sure, taken away that option by being gone in the evenings—I certainly wasn't going to drive that blue monstrosity that was sitting silently on the grass next to the garage—but since I preferred to run anyway, I was glad to have the excuse.

Surprisingly, Nick stayed even with me the whole way there. I figured he would run out of steam, kept hoping he would, but he wasn't breathing any harder than I was, and his legs were longer so he was taking fewer steps. I found myself hoping I would be able to keep up with him.

Thankfully, he was silent.

With Mark, I usually kept up a stream of chatter the whole time. There were a few reasons for that:

1. I had to slow my pace for him; he wasn't much of a jogger, so I had extra energy for talking.

2. I hated to waste any of my precious time with him...he was home so seldom.

3. He always said my chatting distracted him from the pain that the running was inflicting on him, equating it with Chinese torture.

Running with Nick, it was all I could do to hold my own. Talking was out of the question.

Suddenly, it was very important that I didn't fall behind. The one thing that I did well, my one talent, and it was as if Nick was testing me. I was not going to give up the first time I had any real competition, especially since it was Nick.

I had been so disappointed in my performance the previous year on the cross country and track teams. The blisters on my feet from the whole "dance incident" had made running so excruciating that I hadn't even placed at district cross country.

Then, of all things, I caught some sort of stomach thing right before the district track meet that spring and didn't even get to compete. Felicia and I had it at the same time so in order for Dad not to catch it I was sent to stay at Felicia's house until I wasn't contagious any longer. Mrs. Blanton had taken very good care of us both, even though we had run her ragged. She was a very patient lady.

Whenever I drove to the park, I always ran the whole five-mile length of the trail, but I would use the three-mile cutoff point if I were also running the two-mile roundtrip from the house.

We reached the three-mile cutoff point and, as much as I wanted to see if he could last the whole seven miles, I wasn't going to make it. Without a word, I took the cutoff, and he followed suit.

By the time we returned home, I was exhausted, panting furiously, and drenched with sweat. We hadn't said a word since leaving the house.

"Do you want to shower first," I asked politely, trying not to sound too out of breath.

"Ladies first," he answered just as politely and disgustingly not out of breath...either that or he was better at faking it than I was.

That thought lifted my spirits a bit.

I grabbed a cold water bottle out of the fridge and headed upstairs to take my shower.

Mom was cooking breakfast by the time I got downstairs: eggs and bacon. As I put bread in the toaster, we chatted easily about nothing in particular.

Nick came down first, and I could hear Mark in the shower. I seldom took a hot shower since my goal was to cool off after running, especially in the summer heat, but even so, our fifty-gallon hot water heater would be taking a beating.

"Good morning, Allison," Nick greeted her cheerfully. Since when had he started calling her Allison? "Anything I can do to help?"

Brownnoser, I thought resentfully.

"Why don't you get some plates down?" Mom answered, pointing to the correct cupboard, "To the left of the sink."

I put the buttered toast on the table, and started with the silverware. Being a home economics teacher, my mom thought it vitally important that I knew how to set a table properly and had trained me from a young age.

I used to grumble under my breath about it, wondering who would ever care about where the silly fork should go but, once again, I was thankful for Mom's training.

Mom and Nick carried the conversation...I was suddenly tongue-tied. With all of us working together, we had everything on the table by the time Mark got downstairs.

As we sat down to eat, Mom asked Mark to bless the food. Whenever we had eaten together in the past, Dad or Mark would always say a prayer before the meal. We hadn't eaten together in so long that just thinking about it brought a lump into my throat.

Then my stomach started doing somersaults as I realized that Mom assumed that we would also carry out the other part of the tradition...all holding hands.

She reached for Mark's hand first, then Nick's.

I had no choice. Placing my hand in Mark's, I felt Nick take my other one and my face suddenly seemed to be on fire. I fervently hoped everyone had their eyes closed; I had mine closed so tightly I could feel the beginnings of a headache. Good, I hoped that would distract me from the strange feelings in my stomach as well as my whole arm.

Nick's thumb began absentmindedly rubbing gently across the back of my hand...not helping!

As Mark ended the prayer and released my hand with the customary squeeze, he gave me a quick, questioning look. I had been squeezing the life out of Mark's hand without realizing it, while desperately trying to keep my other hand limp in Nick's...a fine line to walk.

I ate very little. I seemed to be having difficulty swallowing. Downing a whole glass of orange juice since I was inexplicably dry-mouthed, I quickly excused myself to get ready for church. I needed time to pull myself together.

I tried to stay as far away from Nick as possible for the rest of the morning.

Mom insisted that she and I sit in the back seat of the car in order for Nick and Mark to have as much legroom as possible.

After picking up Felicia and squeezing her in between us, we headed to church.

We arrived in plenty of time for Mom to visit a bit, and I was happy to note that she had a bit more sparkle...greeting people, stopping to chat, and asking after everyone. While she was meeting and greeting, Felicia and I found seats in the auditorium.

A small group of girls, probably somewhere in their twenties, waylaid Mark and Nick. Although Felicia and I rolled our eyes at each other, my insides were twisting into knots, and I was angry. I should have been glad, hoping that those girls would convince Nick to sit with them, but instead I was angry with him for stopping to talk to them.

Mark must be the reason, I told myself firmly.

That was it...I didn't want anyone trying to take him away from me when we had so little time together. Yeah, sure, that was it. It had nothing whatsoever to do with Nick. It couldn't have anything to do with Nick. I didn't even like him.

Mom sat down by me, and patted my hand. Mark and Nick showed up, finally, right as the service began. Mark slid in next to Mom and Nick took the aisle seat.

Being two removed from Nick, I could actually concentrate on the church service.

I loved singing. I hadn't inherited the beautiful soprano voice of my mother's, but I had learned how to sing alto. I secretly thought that alto was much more fun than soprano, but I did envy Mom's voice at times; it was so sweet and clear.

Although she never talked about her childhood, she had let slip that her mother had required her to take voice and piano lessons for years, which was why she never wanted to force me into that. I had allowed her to attempt to teach me piano, but I had barely made it to intermediate.

Mark wouldn't touch the piano. He had a nice tenor voice, though. Mom and Dad had insisted that he learn enough about music to be able to sing. He hadn't inherited Dad's deep bass voice, but I loved singing with him.

Dad...I missed that bass voice. I missed him. That was one of the many reasons I'd refused to go to church; not hearing Dad joining in the singing had been too painful.

Ironically, the sermon was about forgiveness. Grimacing to myself, I admitted that I could certainly use a lot of that. The preacher said that we were saved by grace, that nothing we actually did was going to get us into heaven, but we should always try our best to follow the Bible and do "good works." At least that was my interpretation.

I was going to need a lot of grace because I had no good works.

He continued with his sermon, but my thoughts took a side road.

Thinking about all of the things I needed forgiveness for reminded me of the pamphlet I had tossed into one of my desk drawers. I remembered the first three stages of grief; denial, anger, and bargaining but was drawing a blank on the last two. I had lived in denial and anger for so long it would be impossible to forget those, and I had just reached the bargaining stage when Dad died so that one was etched into my memory, but I couldn't remember the last two.

The very last one had to be the stage everyone wanted to get to, so it must have something to do with thinking everything was hunky dory, but the fourth one, that was going to bother me. I couldn't remember what it was.

Suddenly I was impatient to get home and look at that pamphlet.

What stage am I in?

I knew I shouldn't rely so much on lists, but I just couldn't seem to help it. Lists helped me identify and categorize things, and I felt lost without one.

Was that the fourth stage, feeling lost?

I still got angry—as long as Nick remained anywhere in the vicinity I knew that wouldn't be going away anytime soon—but I wasn't angry at the whole world. I could see other teenagers with their parents, like at church, and not feel as resentful.

I had to admit that was another one of the many reasons I had stopped going to church. Seeing all of the happy families and comparing them to my family had caused such violently angry feelings inside of me that I just couldn't handle it.

School had been okay because it wasn't a family thing, but church was all about families. Sometimes the pain and resentment I felt when I would see kids with normal parents were so intensely overwhelming that I could barely breathe. I would have to excuse myself to the bathroom and hope no one was in there.

Once I regained some semblance of control, I would begin mentally yelling at God—I did admit it was only some semblance of control—but at least I could breathe again. I winced, hoping that the "grace all sufficient" the preacher expounded would be sufficient for me. Somehow, I doubted it. Apparently, I needed more than my fair share.

Once church service ended, the single girls immediately surrounded Mark and Nick again. I hadn't seen Nick interact in a group other than after the funeral, and I had a hard time tearing my eyes away from him.

Mark came across as quietly amusing, in a wicked sort of way, and was the classically better looking of the two, but Nick held the girls' attention. He had them all in stitches, laughing at his witty remarks.

Felicia and I exited the pew in the other direction—neither of us wanted to see or hear them flirting—and Mom decided to follow us, since the group blocked the path to the middle aisle.

Although Felicia and I made it outside without being waylaid, Mom wasn't so lucky. Some people stopped her in the foyer to chat.

Glancing around, trying to decide what to do next, we noticed a small group of three high school boys approaching us. Two of them looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place them.

"Hi!" one of the familiar ones greeted us. "I'm Allen. I'm in your Government class," he said, watching Felicia intently.

Allen wasn't very tall, about 5'9" or so, but he was very good looking. He had black hair and dark eyes.

Looks a bit like Mario Lopez, I thought hiding a smile, without as much muscle.

He certainly seemed interested in Felicia.

"Oh yeah," Felicia acknowledged, "You sit a couple of rows over. I'm Felicia, and this is CeeCee."

What...? Felicia had noticed a guy and not told me?

She will pay for that one, I vowed. Then, thinking about Nick, I laughed at myself, like I should talk.

"Yeah I know" Allen admitted, "I've been trying to work up the nerve to introduce myself since the year started. I saw you here last Sunday, but you left so fast I didn't have time to introduce myself."

The guy next to Allen nudged him with his elbow.

"Oh sorry, this is Michael and that's Lance, Michael's brother."

He indicated the boy standing to the side of Michael and slightly behind.

"Lance is a sophomore," he added as if that explained something.

The one named Michael had been watching me through the whole Allen/Felicia interaction, but I wasn't sure why, and it made me extremely uncomfortable. I wondered if my hair was sticking out all over the place. Church was one of the only times I didn't put it all up in a ponytail and since I hadn't been to church in a long time, I felt self-conscious about it.

"This is my best friend CeeCee," Felicia began only to be interrupted by Michael.

"I know, we're in the same honors English class," Michael said not taking his eyes off me.

Ah, that was it, he recognized me.

"Nice to meet you," I offered politely.

He seemed disappointed about something.

"I sit two desks behind you," Michael prompted hopefully.

That was it. Felicia had noticed Allen so Michael had been waiting for me to claim to have noticed him. I wanted to tell him that since I walked around in a daze most of the time he shouldn't take anything I do or say personally, but I thought that might be too much information on such short acquaintance.

"We were wondering if you two would be interested in a double date," Allen began, "with us," he added as if he hadn't made himself clear.

Felicia and I exchanged a quick glance, each wondering what the other was thinking, but before we could answer, Mark and Nick were there, telling us it was time to go. I glared at Nick, angry that he could spend all his time chatting up a bunch of single girls, but the moment I started talking to a guy, it was suddenly time to go.

Making a decision, I turned to Michael and Allen and said in a defiant tone, "That sounds like fun. Why don't we make plans tomorrow at school?"

We said our goodbyes and I headed towards the car. I could feel Nick's anger as I walked away. I wasn't sure how I knew he was angry, I just knew.

Mark was confused.

"What was that about?" he asked curiously.

"Just some guys from school asking us out," I replied airily, like it was something that happened all the time.

"I think it would be safer if you said no," Nick suggested solicitously, then ruined it by saying, "Safer for the guy anyway."

Mark chuckled, and I glared at both of them.

"We haven't told them a definite yes yet," Felicia glanced at Mark hopefully.

I recognized that look...it was the same one Michael had worn when he mentioned sitting behind me in English.

Felicia likes Mark! How could I have been so blind!

Of course, with me it was easy, I had to admit, since I lived in a constant state of oblivion.

Mark didn't seem to notice. Apparently, obliviousness was hereditary.

"Sounds like you would have fun," Mark commented, then added, "Double dating would keep it honest."

Felicia, valiantly trying to hide her disappointment in Mark's comment said, "No reason not to say yes, then."

Mom met us at the car, finally able to break away from all of her friends. We drove to Felicia's house to drop her off, and I got out with her.

"I'll stay and ride with Felicia," I decided.

"That will be fine," Mom agreed. "Lunch will be ready in about thirty minutes. Don't be late," she warned.

"We won't be," I promised.

Sitting on Felicia's bed a few minutes later, we looked at each other and both burst into spontaneous laughter.

"What was that?" Felicia asked.

"Our irresistible beauty at work of course," I answered facetiously, then demanded, "You best start 'splaining, girl."

"What?" Felicia asked suddenly wary.

"Oh you know what!" I insisted. "You have been holding out on me...twice!"

"Twice...?"

I could tell she was stalling, and I wasn't about to let her get away with it.

"Not only did you notice this Allen guy in class, and didn't tell me, you've been crushing on Mark, and didn't tell me," I accused. "Don't bother to deny it. For me to notice it had to be pretty obvious."

"Okay, okay," Felicia held up both hands in front of her as if to stop my onslaught. "I did notice Allen the very first day of class. He was staring at me, so I thought he might be interested."

"You thought he might be interested and you didn't tell me?" I asked in exasperation.

"Well you didn't tell me about Michael in your English class," she counterattacked me.

"I would have if I had known. You know me, I don't notice squat!" I defended myself. "Now about you and Mark..."

"Alright, I admit, I have a huge crush on your brother," she admitted, "but he only sees me as his baby sister's best friend. Otherwise he would have reacted more like Nick did about you going out with Michael."

Darn it, she was too observant.

"I don't know what you mean," I replied stiffly.

She was trying to sidetrack me, and it was working.

"I'm not blind or stupid, CeeCee," Felicia protested. "I can see that there is something going on there, but I'll back off if you don't want to talk about it."

"It's not that I don't want to talk about it," I hesitated, "I just don't know what it is."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, at times I almost hate him, then other times I have these weird feelings in the pit of my stomach."

I sounded like a cheap dime novel.

I moaned, "I don't know!"

"Sounds like you have your first big crush," Felicia suggested.

"If this is a crush, I absolutely refuse to ever fall in love," I decided. "It's too confusing and painful.

"We'll make it through this," Felicia promised, "together."

"So what do you do when you have an unrequited crush?" I asked. "Do you have any ideas?"

"Well, the first thing we are not going to do is sit around moping over those two," she said firmly.

That sounded good.

She continued, "I say we make definite plans with Allen and Michael as soon as possible."

"You really think that dating other guys will help?" I asked dubiously.

"Yes I do!" Felicia replied confidently. "Don't you think Michael looks like a young Paul Newman?"

"I have no idea what a young Paul Newman would look like. You are the movie buff," I replied in exasperation, teasingly adding, "but Allen could definitely pass as a Mario Lopez look-a-like."

"That's exactly what I was thinking!" Felicia agreed, surprised, "but how would you know what Mario Lopez looks like? You never even watch TV."

"I used to watch "Saved by the Bell" reruns at a friends house when I was young. I had the biggest crush on him, all the girls did."

I didn't add that we all did because Serena had. Felicia knew nothing about Serena; it was still too painful to relive.

"Well, you can't have Mario, he's too short for you anyway," Felicia teased, "You'll have to settle for Paul."

"Deal," I agreed laughingly, "we'll work it out with them tomorrow. I can't mess up my running schedule, so if we are going to double date, we'll have to work around it."

"Agreed."

"And we have to help each other avoid any embarrassing situations with Mark and Nick."

I certainly needed all the help I could get.

By the time we got to my house, Mom had lunch all ready. We promised to do the dishes, since the guys had set the table. Even though we knew we were getting the rotten end of the deal, we realized it was our own fault for staying at Felicia's house too long.

Besides, Felicia and I didn't really mind. It kept us out of trouble. The thought of trying to make small talk with the objects of our crushes, well, it didn't bear thinking about.

Reluctantly we made our way out to the living room. We'd stalled as long as we could, but there was absolutely nothing else to clean, put away, or rearrange.

Thankfully, Nick and Mark were getting up to leave.

For a moment, I was resentful of Nick and Felicia. Because of them, I had given up precious Mark time, but unlike other times, I was able to let the resentment go. Sometimes sacrifices had to be made in the interest of sanity...mine.

With their things already loaded into the pickup, all we had left were the goodbyes.

Mom hugged Nick goodbye while I hugged Mark.

I was definitely getting my share of questioning looks from Mark. I must have squeezed him longer and harder than usual.

Please tell me that Nick doesn't expect me to hug him, I anguished as I held onto Mark as if he were my lifeline. I just can't.

As I finally released Mark and stepped back, I felt a jolt of lightening rip through me as I watched Felicia hug both Mark and Nick goodbye.

Felicia! What are you thinking?

I risked a quick glance at Nick's face and saw that he had that same amused smirk that he always wore when he was secretly laughing at me.

I glared at him, but he was probably so used to my glares that he most likely assumed it was a permanent facial feature.

"CeeCee, I haven't gotten a goodbye hug from you, yet" Nick pointed out innocently, the smirk gone.

I fumed.

He knew full well that I couldn't refuse to hug him, or everyone would wonder why. He loved torturing me. I tentatively took a step toward him. Closing the gap between us quickly, Nick put one hand in the small of my back and pulled me toward him.

I didn't know what to do with my hands. I set them lightly on his shoulders as he pulled me close. I could feel the muscles under his thin cotton dress shirt and my hands flinched as if burned but, if he noticed, he didn't give any indication.

Instead, he whispered, "You're not wearing the bracelet I gave you."

"I forgot," I hissed defiantly.

Not for the world would I admit I had been too embarrassed to wear something so feminine that he had given me, especially in front of him; it was way too personal.

"Have it on next time I see you," he ordered as he pushed me away from him.

I stood there gaping after him...speechless.

By the time I had recovered enough to respond, he and Mark were already getting into Nick's pickup. He was so bossy, and obnoxious, and annoying, and...and...words failed me at that point.

Felicia and Mom waved them out of sight, but I was too busy yelling at Nick in my mind to notice. He always managed to have the last word.

Nick was so frustrating!

Chapter 13

Dear Diary,

We're getting rid of stuff.

CeeCee

Mom and I decided to make Saturday mornings and Sunday afternoons our "family time". I ran early in the morning as well as after dark on both of those days, and Felicia met us at church on Sunday mornings, but the rest of that time was ours to be alone together.

Determined to get rid of as much junk as she could, Mom convinced me to help her start on Mark's room, which was a nightmare. It was hardly fair to call it Mark's room, since most of the stuff in there had nothing whatsoever to do with Mark, but calling it the storage room didn't seem right.

Mark had to belong somewhere in the house.

I agreed to help simply because, if Mom had her way, everything would be history and there were some things I wanted to keep. Even though I had always accused my dad of being the family packrat, I had to admit the apple hadn't fallen very far from the tree.

The next Saturday, immediately after breakfast, we started on the room. Neither of us realized how hard it was going to be emotionally.

The first few boxes weren't that difficult; they contained some of my old toys. Opening the first box, we found three Barbie dolls and a Ken I had refused to give up. One of the Barbie dolls was minus a head and the Ken was missing both arms. Searching through the box, we weren't able to find the missing body parts, just clothes and accessories. Mom and I laughed. I had been a strange child, and I hadn't changed all that much

Some of the other boxes weren't so easy.

I was in the middle of digging through a box full of old clothes, when I noticed that Mom was no longer talking. She and I had kept up a running commentary on the funny things we found, but she had gone strangely silent.

Glancing over at her, I noticed her shoulders shaking. Alarmed, I jumped up and rushed over to see what was wrong. She was crying. I noticed she was holding what looked like a small scrap of paper in her hand.

"Mom...?" I queried tentatively.

She couldn't answer me. Gently I took the scrap of paper from her hand. It was a ticket stub for some concert. Handing it back, I sat down on the floor and put my arm around her. I didn't understand, but I didn't have to...I just needed to be there for her.

After the storm of weeping passed, and she was able to speak again, she said, "The ticket stub..." she hiccupped before continuing, "I met your dad at that concert."

The light dawned: The Allison Box.

How well I remembered the day I first learned about The Allison Box. I was in fourth grade, and had written a paper—the teacher called it a paper but in retrospect it couldn't even be considered a paragraph—an assignment for class about who we admired most in the world. We hadn't known what admired meant, so she had explained it to us as the one person in the world we most wanted to be like.

That was easy: Mom.

Every time we had a class party, field trip, or any special event, Mom would take a day off from teaching to be there for me. All of the kids in my class were envious that I had the best mom. She was fun, pretty, smart, and a great cook; her chocolate chip cookies were legend. How could I not want to be just like her?

I couldn't remember exactly what I wrote, but it made Mom cry and I had been horrified. My dad was finally able to get me to see that she was crying in a good way.

Although I still didn't understand it, I was relieved that he wasn't angry with me. He hated seeing my mom upset more than anything. He then asked if he could have the paper to put in The Allison Box. He explained to me that he had a box where he kept all of the special things that reminded him how thankful he was to have met Mom, and that she had chosen him.

I was very proud of myself. Something I had written was going into The Allison Box.

I wasn't sure Mom would be able to handle delving into that box and, apparently, she agreed with me. Putting the ticket stub back, she closed the lid and stood up.

"I think we've done enough for today," she stated firmly.

Picking up the box, she made her way downstairs. I heard her bedroom door shut.

So much for that, I thought to myself sadly.

Not knowing whether Mom would come out of her room for lunch, I decided to fix it myself. I was in the mood for tuna so I boiled some eggs, cut up an apple, and added some relish and mayo. By the time I was done, Mom had returned to the kitchen and seemed to be her normal cheery self. We ate lunch together—sandwiches and chips—then I went upstairs to get ready for my date.

I decided to leave Saturday afternoons free for dating, which left Mom time to go off and do her volunteer work. Mom had chosen to volunteer at the hospital, in the children's ward.

Her first effort at volunteering had been with hospice, and the night I had confronted her in the kitchen, the woman she had been sitting with every evening that week had just died, which explained why she had gotten home earlier than usual.

Mom had been attempting to act as normally as possible for me, even though she was very upset, according to Mark, but like an idiot, I had made everything even harder for her...no big surprise there.

So, that Saturday afternoon, Felicia dropped by the house to pick me up for our double date as she and I had decided we would meet Allen and Michael, rather than relying on them to get us home safely. We were both gun-shy about dating at all, so we thought that would be an acceptable compromise. They had been surprised, but agreeable.

We met at the AMC Theater right after lunch. I was not about to give up my running schedule for a guy, but I was a little concerned that Allen and Michael might object to afternoon dates. I needn't have worried. They were more than happy to pay matinee prices rather than shell out the big bucks for an evening movie.

"Hey," Allen greeted us enthusiastically and I noted with amusement that he couldn't seem to take his eyes off of Felicia.

"Hi," Michael chimed in, "Glad you could make it."

"Hey guys" Felicia responded cheerily.

I just smiled. My smile was feeling less like a grimace all the time.

"We thought we would go see the new Agent Jack Knight movie," Allen offered tentatively, "unless there's something else you would like to see."

"No, that's great," Felicia reassured him. "I love Agent Jack Knight movies."

She didn't add that we had already seen it, that she'd actually seen it multiple times.

"Good deal. Do you want anything to eat or drink before we find a seat?" Michael asked.

"No, we're good," Felicia answered for both of us, while I nodded my agreement, having just eaten lunch.

Felicia took the lead, and I was glad.

When Felicia and I first met, we seemed to click right away, and I had no problem talking to her like she was an old friend, but the first few times we were in a group of people she was shocked to discover that I was actually very...reserved...in public. I'd never felt comfortable chatting freely with strangers.

Felicia had no such problem; she'd never met a stranger. That was one of the things I liked best about her...I was even a little envious. She and my mom were very similar in a lot of ways.

I was extremely thankful for Felicia's outgoing personality. She and Allen kept up a steady stream of lively conversation the whole time, even through the movie previews until the movie actually started. There were only about twenty-five other people in the theater and we were all spread out so thinly that no one objected.

Other than Michael asking me what time it was about every five minutes, he and I occupied ourselves by listening to their chatter. Michael, it seemed, was about as talkative as I was.

I shuddered to think how the date would have gone if Michael and I had been alone. I could picture it, both of us staring off into space, unsure what to say, each hoping the other would break the awkward silence. It didn't bear thinking about.

The movie was every bit as fun to watch the second time around. I watched it with new eyes because I had already finished reading the first Agent Jack Knight book and was half way through the second one. The first two movies, the ones Felicia had shown me on my birthday in her new media room, followed the first two books with surprising accuracy and I was looking forward to reading the third book.

After the movie, the guys suggested we go grab a bite somewhere. A fast food place a few blocks away sounded good to all of us and we agreed to meet there. We still weren't ready to give up our only means of escape, just in case.

Because the lines were a little long, the guys found us a table and went to order the food, both of us choosing the Number One combo meal to make it easier on them. I didn't like fizzy drinks very much and preferred water, but when Felicia ordered a diet soda I went along with it. I figured I could pretend to drink it and toss it when we were through.

We hadn't had a chance to say much in the car since Felicia needed to concentrate on her driving, so we were glad of a chance to be alone for a few minutes to talk.

"So?" Felicia asked, leaning across the table towards me.

"So?" I repeated, stalling.

"Come on...tell me what you're thinking."

"You and Allen seem to be hitting it off," I replied deliberately misunderstanding her.

"What about you and Michael?"

"We don't talk much."

"CeeCee!"

"Alright, alright," I held up my hands in surrender, "I think he's really nice."

"Do you really?" she asked relieved. "Do you think you would want to...you know...go out with him...like...by yourself."

Ah, I finally understood, she wasn't pressuring me to find out if I liked Michael, it was because she liked Allen and was hoping I wouldn't be offended if they wanted to... what was it called?... single-date.

"Absolutely," I reassured her. "I don't think either of our dates could be compared to Craig the jerk face. They're really nice guys."

"Oh, CeeCee, I am so glad you think so," she gushed, relieved. "Oh, here they come."

The guys slid into the booth with us and began distributing the food and drink. Once again, Allen and Felicia led the conversation. Michael contributed to it every once in a while, and periodically asked me what time it was, but overall seemed content to let them have it.

I wasn't paying much attention to what was being said, so I was shocked to realize that everyone had suddenly become silent and were watching me expectantly.

Embarrassed to admit I had no clue what they were talking about, I frantically searched for a generically acceptable answer.

"Okay...?"

I hadn't meant it to sound like a question, but apparently none of them noticed, well, almost none of them. Our dates accepted my answer with obvious relief so I knew I hadn't totally blown it.

"CeeCee and I would like to wash our hands," Felicia announced, looking pointedly at me, "so if you will excuse us?"

"Of course," "Sure," they replied letting us out of the booth.

As soon as we hit the bathroom, Felicia burst out laughing, and then tried to stifle it behind her hands. Bathrooms tended to echo...loudly.

"You have no earthly idea what you just agreed to, do you?" she asked incredulously.

"No," I answered crossly, "but I'm sure you're about to regale me with the details."

"Michael is going to take you home in his car, and Allen is going to ride with me to my house," she informed me smugly.

"That's silly, how is Allen going to get home?" I asked wondering how I had missed so much.

"After Michael drops you off, he'll swing by my house to pick up Allen," Felicia answered reasonably. "Are you okay with all of that?" she asked, still a little anxious.

"Sure," I responded quickly.

I was very glad Felicia liked Allen.

Maybe she would get over her crush on Mark more easily that way. Not that I wouldn't have loved for her to one day be my sister-in-law, but I knew Mark pretty well, and our nightly conversations were enough to convince me that her hopes in that direction were in vain. He only saw her as his baby sister's best friend, and I didn't want to see her get seriously hurt. I wouldn't wish that on anybody.

Once we were alone in his car, Michael seemed more disposed to talk. We chatted about our latest Honors English assignment; memorizing the first eighteen lines of the Canterbury Tales. Reciting it in Middle English instead of the modernized version was worth quite a few extra credit points, and Michael was all for working on it together.

While we were trying to figure out our schedules, I discovered that he was the editor of the school paper. I made a mental note to start reading it. It was still too early in the relationship to try explaining my total oblivion to all things not pertinent to my immediate survival.

While Michael and I talked, the A/C in the car kept blowing my hair around my face. Felicia had talked me into wearing it down instead of up in the customary ponytail, so I found myself continually shoving it behind my ears. As I reached up with my both hands to move the offending strands, the bracelet on my wrist caught Michael's attention.

"Nice bracelet," Michael commented.

Despite my best intentions to leave it in the box, I'd worn it to school everyday. Although I refused to wear it in front of Nick, especially after he had made it into an order, I loved it.

Even though I possessed a jewelry box filled with quite a few baubles—mostly from my time in junior high that the packrat in me refused to throw away—none of the pieces interested me...not since the Serena fiasco. My only adornment over the past few years had been sports watch to time my runs.

I had never been, nor ever would be, the frilly type, but I had to admit I liked the feeling of femininity that the bracelet gave me. Whether that was due to the fact that it was the most beautiful piece of jewelry I had ever owned or more due to the source of the gift, I told myself it didn't matter.

"Thanks," I responded, tensing.

"I noticed you wearing it this week," he continued, not daunted by my monosyllabic answer. "I haven't ever seen you wear jewelry before."

Rats, he had been watching me more closely than I realized. My stomach churned with an unidentified emotion.

"Um...it was a birthday present," I offered hesitantly, suddenly inspired I added, "My birthday was last week and we had a family party on Saturday. It's really too bad we didn't know each other before last Sunday, because I would have invited you. I got all sorts of cool gifts. My mom bought me a laptop, and Felicia's family got me an i...a handheld device to play my music and it says I can do all kinds of applications, whatever those are, and internet and movies...all sorts of stuff. I haven't figured everything out yet. Do you know anything about what they call syncing?"

I had to pause to catch my breath. I wasn't used to babbling out loud, and it took a lot out of me. My awe for Felicia and my mom knew no bounds. How in the world did they keep that up all the time?

Thankfully, it worked. Michael was totally distracted from the bracelet conversation. I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Movies...internet...applications...? You mean you got an i...?" he began incredulously.

"Oh no...!" I exclaimed, horrified at what I had revealed. "I wasn't supposed to tell anyone."

"They aren't even out yet," he continued in amazement.

"You can't say anything, okay. I'm not sure how they got an advance one, but it's supposed to be a secret. I can't believe I..."

"It's alright, CeeCee," Michael grinned. "Mum's the word. I'd love to get my hands on it though, if you'll let me, and I'll help you sync it with your new laptop. I assume you have internet at your house...?" he looked at me questioningly.

"Just dial up," I admitted ruefully.

"That's okay, we can still do it," he assured me. "It'll just take a while."

The rest of the drive was taken up with Michael discoursing on the advantages and disadvantages of the various devices available. I couldn't have come up with a better distraction. Michael was an undemanding companion.

Since Mom wasn't home yet, I couldn't invite Michael into the house, so we sat on the front porch for a bit. He didn't seem to be in any hurry to leave.

We were quiet for a while, and then Michael suddenly asked, "What time is it?"

That was going to get annoying; someone needed to buy the guy a watch.

As soon as I told him, he asked abruptly "Do you want to go out?"

"I thought we just did," I replied flippantly.

"No, I mean, yes we did, but I mean just us...by ourselves," Michael stammered.

"Oh, okay, that would be nice," I replied reluctantly, unable to come up with a good reason to say no.

"Great," he enthused, "I better go pick up Allen before he starts thinking I forgot about him."

With that, he got up off the porch and practically sprinted to the car.

Turning around, he called, "See you at church tomorrow."

I waved back, and watched as he drove away. Guys were weird.

At church the next day, Michael and Allen asked us to sit with them. I wasn't about to desert my mom, so Felicia, understanding perfectly, offered to let them sit with us instead.

I sat next to Mom, and Michael's brother Lance managed to squeeze in between Michael and Felicia. The guys were going to kick him out, but Felicia and I wouldn't let them.

For one thing, Lance wore a watch so I was hoping Michael would ask him what time it was instead of constantly asking me and, for another, Lance was sweet.

I could tell he had a huge crush on Felicia, and I sympathized with him...crushes were hard.

Felicia and Allen were still talking when Mom and I headed home. Michael waved forlornly as he watched us leave. I had explained to him that Saturday afternoon was the only time I had for dating.

We could spend some time together studying during the week when Felicia and I weren't doing out homework together, and it would be great if he didn't mind helping me sync my handheld and laptop, but we would have to play it by ear.

Mom had stuck a roast in the oven so it would be ready by the time we got home from church, for which I was grateful. I was starving.

I noticed, while I was stuffing my face, that Mom was quieter than usual. Actually, she had not been her usual talkative self at church either. Alarmed, I wondered if she was sick or something. There were all kinds of diseases she could pick up doing volunteer work at the hospital.

What if something happens to her? What would I do?

Get a grip, I silently berated myself. Just ask her.

"Mom, are you okay?" I ventured carefully.

"What?" Mom turned unfocused eyes toward me.

"Are you okay? You seem...distracted."

"Oh, I'm fine, sweetie," Mom assured me. "There is something I need to talk to you about though. I've been debating how and when to bring it up."

"You don't mind me dating do you?" I asked anxiously. "I promise it won't be like last time. Michael is..."

"No, no it's not that," Mom hastily interrupted me. "I trust you. This is something else." She hesitated as if unsure how to proceed. "I haven't explained why I want to clean out Mark's room."

"Well, after all, Dad was the packrat. I just assumed..."

I wasn't sure how to put the rest of it into words so I just shrugged. Mom had no problem figuring out what I meant.

"There's that, too, of course, but the real reason is that... I'm planning to put the house up for sale," she finished in a rush.

I felt Mom watching me carefully for my reaction, but I had no idea how to react. Unidentified emotions were rushing all through my body. I was a little dazed, unsure if I wanted to identify any of them, but knowing I needed to. I closed my eyes, attempting to sift through all of the conflicts inside of me.

Mom knew me well enough to know that I hated change. On the other hand, it would be a relief to be able to get away from the constant reminders that plagued me every day. The whole downstairs screamed "wheelchair".

A horrible thought occurred to me.

"Would I have to finish my senior year some place else?"

"No," Mom said decisively. "I've already put a deposit down on a two bedroom/two bath apartment at the complex a few blocks from the school. It will be vacant and ready to move into the beginning of January. That should give us plenty of time."

Relief was absolutely my primary emotion at that point. Then the depression set in.

"So soon...?"

"Yes, there's no reason to stay here," she sighed. "I think it will give the workmen enough time. I want to put the house up for sale in March."

"Workmen...?"

"We need to get rid of the ramp in the front, it isn't code, and they will also have to fix a few problems...nothing to worry about. The main thing is that you and I have to use all of our spare time to get everything done. Mark and Nick are going to spend some weekends here helping us."

I was in a blind panic by the time she finished imparting that tidbit of information.

"Can't we handle this move by ourselves?" I asked urgently.

Mom gave me a funny look. I tried again.

"I mean, it'll cut into Mark's work time and everything," I offered lamely.

"Oh, that," Mom said dismissively, "Mark won't be working quite as many hours."

"He won't...?" I asked, confused. "But what about paying for school and everything?"

"Your dad had money in his teacher retirement that I had to withdraw, plus a small insurance policy. If you add that to whatever price we can get for the house, since we don't have a mortgage to pay off, it's enough for me to help Mark...and you next year...pay for college."

I could see that Mom was becoming emotional.

"Dad and I talked about it, and he wanted me to use his money to help you both. That is how I was able to afford your laptop. I know it's what he would have wanted."

By the time she finished, there were tears running down her cheeks.

Reaching over, I took Mom's hand and squeezed it gently.

"Whatever you decide to do is fine with me, Mom. I've caused you enough stress over the past few years; I won't do that to you again. Just tell me what you want me to do."

"Thanks, CeeCee," Mom said gratefully, "I love you."

"I love you, too," I whispered emotionally.

That week we spent almost every free minute going through, not only Mark's room, but every room in the house deciding what would go with us to the apartment and what would stay.

Felicia helped when she could, but she was spending a lot of her free time with Allen. I still got to see her at school, so I didn't mind. I had too much to do, anyway.

Michael volunteered to come over and help, but Mom said no. In a way, I was glad. I liked Michael, but as a friend. I suspected he wanted more.

Mom explained that, while she didn't mind Nick coming, he felt like family already—to her anyway—she couldn't stand the thought of a stranger touching my dad's stuff. I understood.

Since I had already promised Michael I would go out with him the next Saturday, Mom insisted that I keep the date. Mark and Nick would be there, so she wouldn't be working alone. She tended to try to lift things she shouldn't be lifting, so I needed to warn Mark to keep an eye on her while I was gone.

Mark and Nick planned to arrive early Saturday morning and would stay until Sunday evening in order to get as much done as possible. I kept telling myself I could handle Nick's presence, but deep down I had my doubts.

At school, although Felicia and I usually ate lunch alone at the table where we first met, that week, for the first time, we weren't alone.

Felicia invited Allen to join us, and he brought an entourage.

Michael, of course, was part of it, but there were also five other people. I didn't catch all of their names, because I was late getting there on Monday.

Coach Miller caught me in the hall and wanted to go over my running schedule for the week since she was going to be out of town for a couple of days. She planned to leave right after lunch so it couldn't wait.

By the time I arrived in the cafeteria, our customary table was unrecognizable.

I didn't have much time left to eat anything, so I just grabbed some things out of the vending machines. Michael noticed me right away, and came over to take my hand—which surprised me—and led me to the table. I noticed one of the girls already sitting there eyeing our clasped hands in displeasure.

Wow, I was really getting better at the paying attention thing. First Mom, then a girl I didn't even know. I had to admit that it was good knowing when something was bothering Mom, but I could have done without the knowledge that the girl at the table was shooting daggers at me with her eyes. Guess I would have to learn how to pay selective attention.

Something else I noticed; Felicia practically glowed. I was happy for her.

Although I didn't see Felicia much outside of school that week, Michael and I met after my weight training session every day to work on our English assignment. He drove me home most days so Mom didn't have to wait for me after school, and stayed for supper a couple of times.

I felt I owed him at least that much since he was also helping me with my electronic stuff—I was technologically handicapped—and he was unfailingly polite, even told my mom she was a much better cook than his mother, which made her smile.

After he left, Mom and I would work on the house stuff until time for my run. I had found an acceptable balance between the different parts of my life. Things were looking up.

I still called Mark every evening before bedtime, we had lots to discuss, but Thursday night's phone call threatened to ruin my new found balance. He started out more abruptly than usual.

"Mom said you were seeing this Michael guy almost every day."

"We do have a class together," I reminded him, confused by the controlled anger in his voice.

"You know what I mean, after school, at the house...alone."

"We aren't alone, Mom's always here," I defended myself, unused to Mark playing the heavy. "Besides, we're just studying and working on my laptop."

"You were already in the house before Mom got home today," he contradicted.

"Okay, today for fifteen minutes, we were alone in the house," I admitted dutifully. "I thought Mom was here. She usually is."

"Fifteen minutes is all it takes," Mark said angrily.

"What are you talking about," I asked, bewildered.

"Did you learn nothing from your near escape from that football jerk last year," he demanded.

"Michael is not like that. He..." I began defensively.

"All guys are like that," he disagreed hotly.

"Wait a minute," Mark was sounding suspiciously like... "This isn't about a kiss, is it? Nick told you," I accused angrily.

"You should have told me yourself, instead of letting us all believe that jerk was telling the truth," Mark said angrily. "I shouldn't have had to hear it secondhand."

"I didn't mean to tell Nick, I just got angry and it slipped out. He had no right to..."

"He had every right to tell me, especially when we found out from Mom that you'd been alone in the house with a guy," he interrupted. "That won't happen again...and I want to know the truth about what happened that night, CeeCee."

"It happened a long time ago, Mark. Just let it go," I pleaded. "I have."

"I can't believe you allowed me to go on believing a lie all this time."

I could tell under the anger that Mark was genuinely hurt that I hadn't told him the truth. I never intended to hurt him; I felt awful.

"Can we talk about it when you get here," I begged, "I don't want to do this over the phone."

Mark was silent for a minute.

"Okay, but you will tell me the truth," he said in warning, "No more lying."

"No more lying," I conceded wearily.

"CeeCee, you know I love you," Mark said as gently as he could.

"I love you, too," I whispered.

I hung up and let the tears fall.

Chapter 14

Dear Diary,

Nick is unbelievable!

CeeCee

I found myself full of excitement and dread at the same time. While I wanted Mark to come, I had no idea how he was going to react when I told him the whole truth about that night.

That he would pull it all out of me, I had no doubt. Mark wasn't like me...he always wanted to know everything about, well...everything...and then deal with it all accordingly.

Personally, I would have just ignored the whole thing, hoping it would go away, if Craig's parents hadn't threatened mine with lawsuits. Once I got Craig to back down on that, I decided to let the whole thing die a natural death. Telling my parents the truth at that point would have just added fuel to the fire. I doubt that they would have let it go so easily.

I knew Mark wouldn't have.

Craig was playing football for some out-of-state college, so at least Mark couldn't hunt him down and kill him or break his nose again. That was a relief; Mark had a black belt.

Friday, I asked Mom to wait to give me a ride home after school. I wanted a chance to talk to her before Mark got there. She was full of curiosity, but contained it until we got into the house.

I wasn't sure exactly how to begin. My throat was parched, I was so nervous. I went into the kitchen to get a glass of ice water, partly to stall and partly hoping that it would help my throat.

Mom followed me.

"CeeCee, what's wrong?" Mom asked worriedly.

"There's something I need to tell you and I'm not sure...I don't know how you're going to take it," I said hesitantly.

"Just tell me."

"I never...I didn't...you don't know the whole truth about the dance incident last year," I finally got out.

"Ah, there was more to it."

Mom visibly relaxed.

"Yes," I said, surprised by her lack of surprise.

"I always suspected there was," Mom admitted. "Even as angry as you were about...things, I didn't think you would actually break someone's nose over a goodnight kiss."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I decided to trust you," she answered simply. "I have been wondering about one thing, though."

"What's that?" I asked dazedly.

"How did you get the Telsons to drop the lawsuits?"

"I caught Craig in the cafeteria at lunch in front of witnesses and told him that our legal advisor had suggested that we fight the lawsuits, and to require all five of them to take lie detector tests."

"You talked to Mr. Forsythe?"

"No," I admitted sheepishly, "I read it in a book; that was my 'legal advisor'. Never underestimate the power of the written word."

Mom laughed and I joined her.

"If you want to tell me what really happened, I'll listen, but I want you to know that it isn't necessary," Mom said soberly, "I don't have to know the details. I assumed that Craig tried something with you, and you let him know you weren't that kind of girl."

"That pretty much covers it," I agreed, "he just didn't know how to take 'no' for an answer, so I had to make it loud and clear."

I grinned at Mom and she grinned back. I was so relieved that she understood and didn't blame me.

"I was just sorry you and Dad had to be put through all of that."

"Dad didn't know anything about it," Mom informed me.

"You..."

"I never told him," Mom interrupted me. "That would have..."

She couldn't finish. I hugged her tightly.

"I'm glad he didn't know anything."

"Thank you for understanding."

"Now if I can just make it through Mark..."

"What does Mark have to do with it?"

"Mark knows."

"You told him?"

"Not exactly," I hedged "but he found out and now he's furious with me for not telling him."

"I'll make him leave you alone if you want," Mom offered, then added smiling "I am the mother."

"I appreciate the offer, but I'll take care of it myself."

"Your call," Mom conceded.

"Thanks," I returned gratefully. "Hey, I have an idea. Why don't we order pizza?"

"Not a bad idea," Mom said approvingly. "It's Friday...let's splurge. Why don't I invite Adele?"

"Great," I enthused, "Girls' night out...or in."

I called and ordered two large pizzas while Mom went next door to invite Mrs. Murray to join us. After hanging up the phone, I ran upstairs to change into my customary hot weather running attire of shorts and a tank top. I figured I would need to take off running as soon as the movie was over in order to be back in time to call Mark.

By the time I got downstairs, Mom and Mrs. Murray were already there debating which movie to watch.

Mrs. Murray could have given Felicia a run for her money as a movie buff. Her collection of VHS movies was impressive. Eventually her VHS tapes were going to go the way of the 8-track, but she stubbornly refused to switch. She mostly collected old black and white classics. I prayed our VHS machine wouldn't eat one of her videos.

We finally decided on Bedtime for Bonzo. Mrs. Murray said it had the former president Ronald Reagan in it and was hilarious. That was a good thing, none of us needed a tearjerker; we were already living one of those.

After watching it, I had to agree that it was one of the funniest things I'd seen in a long time. Of course, as few movies as I'd watched in my lifetime, I wasn't a good judge of such things, but I couldn't remember the last time I had laughed that hard.

Once the movie was over, I left the two of them crocheting together on the couch while I went out to run. I was a little late getting started, but I made sure I had my cell phone with me in case Mark called before I could get home.

It was hot! I could hardly wait until August was over. During the summer, it didn't cool off very much in the evenings, so I had to slow my pace and carry a water bottle most of the time. Mornings were more bearable, but still, cooler weather would certainly be a welcome change. I was always soaked in sweat by the time I got back to the house.

Strange Mark hadn't called. I was already a half hour later than usual. I would probably need to ring him before my shower. That would give me an excuse to shorten the call. I didn't want to continue the discussion he'd started until we could do it in person.

Opening the front door, I could hear voices inside. Mom and Mrs. Murray were still visiting.

Nice for Mom to have a friend so close by, I thought.

I walked into the living room, smiling, and stood stock-still. It took me a minute to process...it was so unexpected. Mark and Nick were there, sitting on the couch eating leftover pizza. I hadn't even glanced over at the driveway, no reason to; they weren't supposed to be there until morning.

My mind was a blank. I was not the type that enjoyed surprises, pleasant or unpleasant, and I never handled them well.

Mark and Nick were both watching me cautiously, gauging my reaction.

Were they expecting my head to explode or something? I wondered crossly.

At that moment, it came to me...I could control the atmosphere. Instead of waiting for them to take the lead, and then simply reacting, I would go on the offensive. The idea appealed to me.

"What? They don't feed you in Austin, you have to come here and eat my pizza?" I asked indignantly.

Taking his cue, Mark replied, "Hello...poor college students," with a big grin on his face.

"Well, if you're expecting me to do your laundry, you have another think coming," I bantered.

Elbowing Nick in the side, Mark said out of the corner of his mouth, "I told you she wouldn't fall for it. Guess we'll have to do our own."

Mom came in from the kitchen carrying a couple of glasses of iced tea.

"Oh, CeeCee, good...you're back."

"Yeah and I am sweating like a pig, so if you don't mind, I'm going to jump in the shower," I said, giving myself a small reprieve, deciding their attack could wait.

Nick spoke for the first time, "Pigs don't sweat, you know."

Leave it to Nick to find something to argue about no matter what I say, I thought irritably.

"Fine...a dog then," I substituted in exasperation.

"Sorry," he grinned unrepentantly "wrong again."

"Alright Mr. Future Vet of America, what animal can I use?" I asked sardonically.

"A horse can work up a pretty nice lather," he suggested in amusement.

"Just forget it...I'm sweaty and in desperate need of a shower not an in-depth discussion on gross animal bodily fluids, so if you'll excuse me..." I stomped up the stairs.

"Don't worry, we'll still be here when you get back," he called after me.

Only he could make that sound like a threat.

"Oh goody!" I muttered facetiously from the top of the stairs, "Fun times!"

The cold shower was refreshing. I stood under the spray taking deep breaths and trying to calm myself. A list...that was what I needed...a list. I would recite a list of the events of that night in a calm, unemotional tone, ensuring that I could make it through without breaking down and bawling.

1. He knowingly supplied me with spiked punch.

2. He tried to convince me to skinny dip.

3. He unzipped my dress.

Short and sweet...that should do it.

I dressed slowly, stalling had become second nature to me, and considered my list carefully to see if there were any highlights that I'd left out.

Maybe Mark wouldn't ask how I had gotten home that night. Or maybe that was exactly what he would ask. I sighed; I would only cross that bridge if we came to it.

Taking one last deep breath, I headed down the stairs.

Hugging Mark seemed the logical thing to do first. I hadn't wanted to get him all sweaty before, besides being totally distracted, so I had foregone the usual hug. I made up for that.

"You definitely smell better now," Mark shuddered. "I was worried you were going to spread the wealth around."

I playfully slugged him in the stomach.

"Very gentlemanly of you," I replied sarcastically. "Where are Mom and Nick?" I asked looking around.

"They tactfully retired to the kitchen."

"Mark..." I began as I flopped down on the couch.

"No, let me go first," Mark interrupted, joining me on the couch. "I had a long talk with Nick last night after you and I got off the phone," he paused for a moment while I panicked.

What else had Nick told him?

Mark continued, "He convinced me to drop it."

"Nick did?" I asked disbelievingly...ironically, Nick never dropped anything. "So you don't want to know what happened."

"Selfishly, I do want to know," Mark admitted, "but for your sake, I'm not going to pressure you to tell me. Nick made me realize that reliving what had to be one of the worst nights of your life might hurt you more than it would help. I love you too much to want to put you through that." He added with a hopeful grin, "Of course if you're dying to tell me, I'm all ears."

Leaning over, I gave Mark another hug and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thanks," I whispered gratefully in his ear.

"I just need to know one thing for my piece of mind," Mark began tentatively. "He didn't... I mean...you weren't..."

"No!" I interrupted him, realizing what he wanted to know. "Thanks to you, I was able to 'take him out early in the game' as Dad used to say."

"CeeCee," Mark said reproachfully, "I didn't teach you how to break someone's nose."

"True, but you got me started. After that, I found every bit of literature I could dig up about incapacitating someone. I found it absolutely fascinating reading," I added playfully.

"Nick was right," Mark returned only half teasing, "You are a danger to all mankind."

"Remember that," I intoned, "and be afraid...be very afraid."

Chapter 15

Dear Diary,

I am so stupid!

CeeCee

We were all pretty much worn out from the day, so it wasn't long before we made our way to our bedrooms, but I couldn't sleep. I had been so distracted I hadn't drunk nearly enough water, and my throat was absolutely parched.

I hated drinking bathroom water, for two reasons: Number one was obvious...IT WAS BATHROOM WATER! YUCK! And number two, the water running through the pipes in the summer was too warm for me to drink. I liked it ice cold.

Assuming that everyone else was tucked up in their beds fast asleep—or at least headed that way—I felt my way down the stairs to the kitchen to grab one of the water bottles I kept in the fridge. Every time I bought bottled water, I kept the bottle, refilled it with tap water, and stuck it in the fridge for a quick get-a-way when I needed to take one on a run. I preferred ice water when I was home, but I didn't want to risk waking Mom up with the noise of the ice, since her bedroom was so close to the kitchen.

I was about to open the fridge when I heard what sounded like...crying. Quietly, I moved closer to Mom's bedroom door in order to hear more clearly. Was she all right?

Putting my ear to the door, I heard music. I wasn't into classical music, but I knew that piece. It was Mom's favorite...Bach's Air. When we were young, after Mark and I were put to bed, she and Dad used to sit on the couch in the living room in front of the fire, wrapped in a blanket, drinking hot cocoa—at least that was their story—playing different versions of it repeatedly.

As I listened, the piece ended and another version began. In the silence between the two, I heard sounds of muffled sobbing. Mom was crying.

Instinctively I raised my hand to knock on her door. I couldn't bear to witness that much pain without doing something about it. Suddenly, there was a steel band around my waist and something hard clamped over my mouth. I tried to scream and break free, but I wasn't strong enough.

As my captor hauled me into the living room, a voice hissed in my ear, "Be quiet!"

Of course it's him, I thought viciously.

I quit struggling, but held my body stiffly until he let me go.

Turning on him furiously, I demanded, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Saving you from making a big mistake," he answered calmly. "Keep your voice down."

"Keep my voice down?" I screamed in a whisper, not even realizing that was possible until that very moment. "That is my mother in there and she's in pain. She needs me."

"She needs to be alone to grieve."

"How would you know?"

"Because I'm not all wrapped up in my own selfish universe," Nick replied bluntly.

"She...I...you..."

I was so angry, spluttering was all I could manage.

I let out a frustrated, high-pitched yelp and turned to leave. I had no set destination in mind—my main focus was to get as far away from Nick as possible—so I wasn't paying attention to my direction.

Nick saw me heading back towards the kitchen and must have assumed the worst; that I was still determined to see Mom. The same steel band roughly encircled my waist from behind again. Nick was furious.

"You spoiled little brat!" he hissed at me.

"Let go of me," I yelled, way past quiet.

I managed to turn towards him, hitting and kicking, trying to free myself, but Nick crushed me against him, pinning my arms down, so I couldn't move. Speechless with anger, my frustration grew as I struggled to get free while at the same time attempted to make painful contact with some part of his body to return some of the emotional pain he was forcing on me. I found no such outlet.

Eventually my strength gave out, and I stood quietly in his arms. My anger subsided, leaving only the ache. With a sob, I buried my face in his neck. It felt like I would never be happy again. Dad was gone, Mom was miserable, Mark was about to graduate college, and I had an extremely painful crush on a man at least seven years my senior.

I wasn't trying to be a spoiled brat, but I didn't know how to handle any of those things. Life was painful, and I had no clue how to deal with my hurt. As I soaked Nick's shirt with my tears, everything seemed to close in on me, suffocating me, as I desperately tried to gulp in huge amounts of air.

After what seemed like hours, but in reality was probably only a few minutes, my sobs lessened and strange sensations began to take over.

I hadn't bothered to dig out my robe—I never used one, and I wasn't even sure my old one would fit—so I was wearing only my camisole top and pajama shorts. With Nick's arms around me, holding me against the length of his body, I suddenly needed something more, but I didn't have the experience to know what.

My hands, which I'd kept close to my face, trying to hide from Nick as well as muffle the sounds of my sobs, seemed to have a will of their own as they slowly crept around his neck. I felt his arms tighten, drawing me closer, and my lips involuntary brushed the side of his neck. He smelled so good.

Nick jumped away from me as if he'd been burned.

Gasping in shock at what I'd done, I was too confused to think. Instinct, perhaps self-preservation, took over and I found myself in my room a few seconds later, my back leaning against the shut door, panting wildly.

I was too humiliated to allow myself to think about what had just happened, how I had...shame washed over me in waves. How could I face him again? He knew. As inexperienced as I was, even I realized that I had given myself away with a vengeance. Of all the stupid, idiotic, moronic things to do...Why had I done that?

I blamed my teenage hormones. That was it...that had to be it. I hadn't dated like a normal teenager...that would explain it. I needed to get out more.

Michael and I had a date the next afternoon, well technically, it would be later the same day since it was already after midnight, and I planned to allow him to kiss me. I had been putting it off—not really into it—but apparently, I needed it.

Getting into bed, I firmly decided to stop beating myself up over Nick.

Maybe Michael was the answer. We would kiss and I would forget all about Nick. That was it, I assured myself sleepily as I drifted off, trying to picture Michael kissing me. If I could just get the picture in my head to stay Michael...

~ * * ~

"Ow," I complained sleepily.

Something painful had awakened me, but I couldn't get my eyes to open in order to see what it was. Rubbing my behind, I decided I must have been dreaming it. I turned over to go back to sleep.

"Ow!"

That was no dream. My eyes jerked open to see an angry Nick standing over me.

"If you must set your alarm for 5:30 in the morning, the least you could do is wake up and shut the stupid thing off before it wakes up everyone else," he looked rumpled and grumpy, like he hadn't slept much.

Actually, neither of us had.

"Sorry," I mumbled trying to ignore my smarting bottom.

I never took naps, but it would probably be a good day to start. I could barely open my eyes. Nick didn't look any better.

By the time I was out of bed, he was gone.

Stretching took me a lot longer than usual. I was lethargic. Whether through lack of sleep or depression over the recent turn of events, the result was the same. I had no energy.

In the kitchen, I pulled a water bottle out of the fridge and headed to the front door. I jumped as a dark figure got up from the couch.

"You have got to stop doing that," I hissed at him angrily.

"Doing what," he asked innocently.

"Appearing out of nowhere," I replied irritably. "I thought you went back to bed."

"I tried," he replied testily. Taking my water bottle from me, he asked, "Got anymore of these?"

"In the fridge, knock yourself out," I informed him, trying to take back my bottle.

"Great. I'll wait on the porch while you go get yourself one," he said as he turned and went out the front door.

I stood there a moment, too tired for anger, then slumped back to the kitchen to get another bottle out of the fridge. I took a couple of swigs, and headed towards the front door...again.

I ignored him and took off running as soon as I hit the ground.

Once again, we were silent running partners.

My lack of energy slowed me down considerably; I was barely jogging, much less running. Nick seemed content to stay with whatever pace I chose. I decided to test that theory by varying my speed. Nick stayed right with me the whole time. Maybe he hadn't been the one setting the fast pace the first time we ran together; maybe I had with my determination to not let him get the best of me.

Interesting...

When we arrived back at the house, I suggested that he go ahead and shower. I was feeling a little dehydrated, so I decided to stay in the kitchen and drink some water first. With all of the distractions the night before, I was upstairs before I realized I had forgotten the water, the reason I went downstairs in the first place.

As soon as I heard him get out of the shower, I headed upstairs to take mine. The cold water revived me a little bit, but I was still worn out, so I decided to relax on the bed for a while.

I woke up a few hours later to sunshine streaming in the window. I stretched lazily, and lay there staring at the ceiling, no particular thought in my mind. Then my stomach growled.

So much for relaxation, I thought grumbling, as I got out of bed.

Breakfast was over and everyone scattered by the time I got downstairs. I poured myself some raisin bran and milk. I was halfway through, reading the back of the box for something to do, when Mark came out of Mom's bedroom.

"Hey lazybones," Mark teased. "Get enough beauty sleep?"

"You tell me," I retorted, "You're the one that has to look at me."

"You and Nick may have to take a nap today," Mark suggested. "Nick was a regular grouch this morning."

"It was probably because we got up and ran early this morning after we all had such a late night," I reasoned.

"Ah, that would explain it," Mark nodded. "I heard the shower running, and Nick's bed was empty, but when I woke up later, Nick was sound asleep. People who run in the mornings need their heads examined," he said with mock seriousness.

"I'll make an appointment as soon as possible," I promised. "What are you and Mom doing in Mom's room?" I asked.

I could hear her still moving around in the bedroom.

"I was helping her go through Dad's clothes and stuff," Mark answered, all joking gone from his voice. "Mom thought I might want to keep a few things."

I nodded.

Was Nick still asleep? I wanted to ask, but didn't want Mark to think I was interested. Or maybe by not asking, I was giving it more importance than it deserved. Maybe I should ask casually; that would be only natural wouldn't it?

Oh my gosh! I thought to myself. This is getting ridiculous. Am I ever going to figure out how to act around him?

Getting up to rinse my bowl, I asked as nonchalantly as I could, "So, is Nick still asleep?"

"No," thankfully, Mark didn't seem to think the question was out of line, "Mom sent him to the store for a few things."

Putting the bowl and spoon in the dishwasher, I said, "If Mom doesn't need me down here I thought I would clean out my closet. I'm thinking there are some things I should get rid of in there."

That would be useful and keep me out of Nick's way at the same time.

"Sounds good," Mark said over his shoulder as he headed back to Mom's room. "I'll let Mom know. I'm sure she'll call you if she needs you."

I spent the rest of the morning cleaning out my closet, bathroom, desk, and dresser.

Mark and Nick visiting so much, and spending the night, had pushed me into finding new places to keep the potentially embarrassing personal items I usually kept in the shower and, after checking under the sink and in the small linen closet, it shocked me to discover that so much stuff had accumulated.

I had major work to do in the bathroom.

My dresser wasn't in too bad of shape. I had been 5'8" for the past two years, although I had gained a few pounds, and since, unlike Felicia, I wasn't much of a clothes horse, I didn't have that much to go through. I hadn't bought anything new in a while.

My closet was a different story. It looked a lot like Mark's room. I only had a few dress clothes hanging up, preferring casual jeans and shorts to skirts and dresses, so most of the closet consisted of boxes and sacks literally piled to the ceiling. I groaned.

Changing my mind, I slammed the closet door shut and went to work on the desk. It had to be easier than the closet.

Pulling open the side drawer, I saw it.

Worthless pamphlet, I thought in disgust.

About to toss it in the trash, I changed my mind and decided to give it one more chance. Lists were important to me, even if they weren't always as cut and dried as I wanted them to be. I had been relieved to know what to expect when the counselor had first given me the pamphlet, but then all the stages seemed to merge in to each other, and sometimes instead of progressing, it looked like I was regressing.

I had no clear idea of what stage I was in, and I was terribly confused.

Examining the pamphlet, I decided maybe it was the fourth stage, depression, but I couldn't recall living the third stage except the short time in between the memorable doctor appointment trip and Dad's hospitalization when I had asked God to leave things the way there were while I became the good daughter.

I supposed that meant that I wasn't much for bargaining. Or maybe bargaining didn't work for me because I had given up on God for a while. At any rate, I was going to church on a regular basis, and trying to make up for all of my horrible thoughts that God had heard me think. Since I'd been yelling my thoughts at Him, I doubt that He could have missed them.

Perhaps I was in the bargaining stage, just didn't realize it. My goals involved getting back into God's good graces. Hmm...so...how about I would be nice to everyone, except maybe Nick, if God forgot what a rotten, horrible human being I had been.

According to the preacher on Sunday, all I need to do was be sincerely sorry, ask for forgiveness, and change my ways. Was that considered bargaining? I wasn't sure. I hoped whatever it was...it would work. Even though, on the surface I had questioned God's existence, deep down I believed in hell and didn't want to go there.

In retrospect, I was of the opinion that I had been alternately depressed and angry, however, not being one-hundred percent sure that particular depression counted towards the five stages, I worried that a major depression was in my immediate future.

I was incredibly sad that Dad died, and regretted living in denial and avoidance for so long that I lost valuable time with him, but once he was actually gone, I had almost felt...relieved...mostly for him, but also for me.

I loathed having to admit that, even to myself, but it was true.

I knew without a doubt that he hated being that way, helpless and dependent, and how frustrating it was for him to watch Mom struggle and not be able to do anything about it. For him, death was a release and I was glad for both of us as his emotional pain had been too much for me to watch.

Since I wasn't sure I truly understood all of my conflicting emotions over Dad's death, and I knew I would never be able to correctly explain it to anyone else, as usual, I kept it all to myself.

I wasn't depressed over his death, not like I had been over his last few years of life. I figured, looking back, it would be safe to say that since I had already gone through some of the grieving stages while he was still alive, the impact of his death had been lessened by a least a tad. I didn't believe that anyone who hadn't gone through the same type of thing would understand, but I'd lost him years ago, the true essence of the man I remembered.

I was mostly upset for Mom, because I knew she would have kept him with her always if she'd had a choice no matter how hard it was for her, regardless of the mindless accusations I had thrown at her in the hospital. Admittedly, I was also a little sad for me...the fact that I had just rediscovered that he was still him and then lost him again.

However, I would never be upset for Dad. He had to be happier; I needed to believe that. For that reason alone, there had to be a God and a heaven. The alternative was unthinkable. Surely, Dad had suffered enough.

At times, I wondered if I was finally at the last stage, acceptance. While Dad was alive, I realized, I would have had a very difficult time reaching that stage. I doubt I could have ever convinced myself, "Hey, this is just how it is; get over it."

With Dad gone, I had closure to all of the emotions that had run amuck inside of me for years. As long as he was alive, there was always something worse waiting around the corner to jump me. I lived on the edge, always listening for the other shoe to drop. The stress inside of me that accompanied his progressive disease had grown in direct proportion to the growth of the disease.

Looking back, I understood that denial was my only defense against the constant onslaught of shattering events that were totally out of my control. I couldn't stop anything, so my brain shut down and refused to accept what was happening.

My anger had surfaced when my brain could no longer deny what was going on; when I had been forced to face things I hadn't wanted to face. I'd been angry with everyone, even myself, because I couldn't make sense of all the bad things that seemed to come out of nowhere.

However, understanding the motives behind my behavior didn't preclude me from suffering the consequences of those actions.

My main reaction to Mom was guilt. I was driven to make up for the way I had treated her and Dad. That was why I'd wanted to comfort her when I'd heard her crying...guilt....and I felt guilty about feeling guilty. I just couldn't win.

I still had anger, but it wasn't the same as it was before. I was mostly angry with Nick. He had forced me to take a good long look at myself in the mirror, and I didn't like the view. I hadn't been angry because he called me a spoiled brat, but because I knew he wasn't wrong.

Nick had been right to stop me from barging in on Mom, whatever his reasons. He had also been correct in accusing me of not paying attention to anyone but me. I was selfish, but I was unreasoningly angry with him for pointing it out.

Well, at least I was admitting my anger was unreasonable. Maybe that was a good sign. I could only hope.

"CeeCee," Mark called, knocking at my door "lunch time."

"Okay, I'll be right there."

Changing my mind about tossing it, I placed the pamphlet carefully back in the drawer. I still wasn't sure that it fit me very well, but it was a list, and I needed something to cling to...sad testimony to my life.

With a sigh turned groan, I resigned myself to the fact that I had to face Nick sooner or later.

May as well get it over with, I grumbled, and headed for the stairs.

Chapter 16

Dear Diary,

I kissed Michael.

CeeCee

Lunch wasn't as bad as I expected. Nick was back to normal—as far as I could tell since I chose to ignore him to the best of my ability, which was considerable...I'd had a lot of practice—and I even managed to choke down some lunch without too much difficulty.

When Mom began making plans for the afternoon, having cancelled her volunteer work at the hospital for the day, I reminded her I had a date with Michael.

"Oh dear, I had forgotten about that," Mom frowned. "I was really hoping to finish up in Mark's room today since he isn't sure when he will be able to come back to help with classes starting this next week, and Nick has generously offered to let us load up his pickup with the things we want to give away. I found a church-related donation center in Lewisville that accepts donations on Sundays, so if we can finish up today, we can leave Nick's pickup in the garage tonight, and he can drop off all of the stuff tomorrow before he and Mark leave for Austin. "

"I'm sure he will understand you having to postpone the date," Nick said smoothly.

"I am not postponing the date," I glared at Nick...so much for ignoring him. "Mom, I told you about the date a few days ago and you..."

"Yes, I know I did, CeeCee, but I don't want to give away anything you want to keep," she explained, "So I need you to be here."

"Why don't you invite Michael to help," Mark suggested.

"He offered to help, but Mom turned him down," I replied sourly, "It's hardly fair to him to cancel at the last minute."

Not to mention, I might chicken out if I didn't let him kiss me while I was so decided.

"Invite him to help," Mom said in resignation.

"Mom..." I began.

"You heard your mother," Nick interrupted, "go make the call."

I glowered at him. He was getting on my last nerve.

Getting up from the table, I said stiffly, "If you'll excuse me, apparently I have a phone call to make."

Picking the cordless phone up off its base, I left the kitchen in a huff and walked over to the living room window, dialing Michael's number. Thankfully, he hadn't left yet.

"Michael? CeeCee," I debated about just canceling altogether, but didn't want to hurt Michael's feelings or give Nick the satisfaction of being right...or thinking he was anyway.

"Hey, I was just heading out the door to pick you up," he sounded enthusiastic.

I swallowed hard and said, "There's been a little change of plans. I..."

"You're canceling, aren't you?"

Michael sounded as dispirited as he had enthusiastic a moment before. I didn't have the heart to disappoint him.

"It's not that," I assured him. "I was just hoping that you might agree to stay here at the house and help with some packing up and giving away. My brother and his roommate are here and Mom wants to get as much done as possible while they're available. I know it's not much of a date, but I would really appreciate it."

"No problem," the enthusiasm was back. "I don't mind at all. I'll be right over."

"Thanks Michael," I said gratefully. "Oh, and you won't want to wear good clothes, it's kind of dusty."

"Thanks for the warning," Michael said ruefully. "I'll go change first."

He hung up.

"I told you he wouldn't mind," I jumped, not expecting Nick to be right behind me.

"That was a private conversation," I said between clenched teeth, turning to give him an icy stare.

"The next time you decide to have a private conversation, you might want to consider doing it in a more private room," Nick suggested, the amusement plain in his voice as well as on his face. "Oh, and unless you want to drive the poor boy wild, I suggest you go change into different clothes," he eyed me in disapproval, "preferably baggy ones."

I was infuriated. There was absolutely nothing wrong with my shorts and tank top. They covered everything. He was the rudest, most overbearing, obnoxious, bossy...I couldn't think of any more adjectives that were noxious enough.

Mark and Mom chose that moment to come through the doorway leading from the kitchen. Mom could tell something was up by the look on my face.

"CeeCee, is something wrong?" Mom asked in concern, "Was Michael angry?"

"No, Michael was just fine...he's on his way over."

I put distinct emphasis on Michael's name to let them know there was a problem, but with someone else. Mark of course picked up on it at once.

Grinning at Nick, Mark asked, "So what has Nick done now?"

"He is not going to tell me what I can or can't wear."

I didn't even try to disguise the anger in my voice.

"Oh, okay, I'm not touching that one," Mark put his hands up in the air as if surrendering.

"What do you mean?" I asked suspiciously, "Is there something wrong with the way I'm dressed?"

"Tell her," Nick directed, "She isn't going to believe me."

"Tell me what?" I demanded irritably.

"Well, I...you see..." Mark stuttered, having no idea how to continue.

"Oh, good grief," Nick said in exasperation, "What your brother is too embarrassed to tell you is that in outfits like that you leave very little to the imagination. Your date," he said the word with obvious distaste "is too young to have that level of self control."

I was stunned. They couldn't be talking about me. There wasn't even much to imagine. I wasn't shapely like Felicia or Mom...I was practically a walking stick. The shock must have shown on my face.

"CeeCee," Mom said gently, "you are a very attractive young lady, and I've been guilty of not paying attention."

"Mark?" my voice had turned pleading, I couldn't help it.

"It's true, CeeCee," Mark admitted. "You grew up while my back was turned. In my defense, it's not something a brother would notice."

I was shocked, angry, sad, depressed, confused...too many feelings at one time. I didn't know how to react. How did normal teenagers deal with all of the excess of emotions rampaging through their bodies all of the time?

I was a lousy excuse for a teenager.

Tears welled up in my eyes. Pulling me gently into his arms, Mark kissed my forehead and held me, smoothing the loose strands of hair that had worked out of my ponytail back behind my ears.

"It's so unfair. Let's just add another thing I can't control."

I tried not to think about the other set of arms that had held me crying the previous night; that would certainly ensure that I would totally lose control and start bawling. At least I had only shed a few tears. I wished I could stop overreacting to everything, but life kept throwing me curves when I needed straight balls for a while. Another thing I had been totally oblivious to. I didn't want to know if there were other things that were escaping my notice.

"It seems like you barely got to be a kid," Mark agreed. "I'm sorry, so sorry."

After a few minutes, I managed to pull myself together.

I moved back from Mark and said, "Not your fault. Life happens. I'm just not so good with change."

I threw him a watery smile then, looking around, I noticed we were alone.

"I certainly know how to clear a room," I half-joked.

"Nick went outside to stall Michael and..." Mark started to explain.

"Michael's here...already?" I asked alarmed, rubbing at the tears on my face with both hands.

"Don't worry, he just pulled up," Mark assured me. "Go upstairs and fix yourself," he grinned, "and change into something of which Nick would approve."

In order to show the proper appreciation of his attempt to lighten the atmosphere as well as my mood, I stuck my tongue out at him. We both laughed, and I ran upstairs. I needed to hurry; there was no telling what Nick might say to Michael.

Frantically searching in my dresser drawers for something "of which Nick would approve," I failed...miserably. I hadn't done my laundry for the week, I usually did it on Sunday afternoons, and it was slim pickin's.

I finally found a pair of jeans—not 'baggy' because I had no jeans that were, but they would have to do—and an old red t-shirt of Mark's that I liked to wear around the house sometimes, quickly pulling it on over my tank top. The neck was huge, it had stretched way out of proportion, which was why Mark was going to throw it away, but with the tank top under it, it was decent. It definitely qualified as 'baggy'.

Tying the loose bottom of the t-shirt in a knot on the left side of my hip to keep it from flapping everywhere, I hurried downstairs.

Mom was nowhere to be seen, but Nick and Mark had poor Michael cornered in the living room and were grilling him. They had obviously asked Michael about his family, because he was telling them about his two brothers.

My eyes were naturally drawn to Nick as I came down the stairs, I couldn't help it, and I could see his eyes taking in my new ensemble. He frowned and shook his head at me.

What? I thought glaring at him angrily.

Deciding that there was just no pleasing him, I rolled my eyes, and turned my attention to Michael. He definitely needed rescuing.

"Sorry I wasn't ready when you got here, lunch ran a little long."

He looked very relieved to see me. I frowned at Mark, showing my displeasure. He shrugged as if to say, "Don't look at me." I knew who the real culprit was, but my angry glances just bounced right off of him.

"Where's Mom?" I asked Mark, pointedly ignoring Nick.

"She went over to Mrs. Murray's house for a few minutes," Nick answered anyway, "She wanted to take her some pie."

There had been chocolate meringue pie for desert, but I had missed out because of my phone call. Another black mark against Nick...chocolate meringue was my favorite.

As if he could read my mind he said, "Don't worry, she saved you a piece."

I really wished I was strong enough to wipe that perpetual smirk off his face...irritating man.

"Michael, I have an idea; why don't you and I go sit on the front porch and chat while we wait for Mom?" I suggested sweetly.

"That sounds great," he jumped up so quickly I wondered just what Nick had been doing to him before I arrived.

I led the way, and we sat on the side of the porch facing the garage.

After spending the better part of last week with Michael, there was no doubt his favorite topics of conversation all had to do with to electronics, so with that in mind I asked him what brand of DVD player he would recommend.

Mom had casually mentioned while we were watching the movie with Mrs. Murray that we could look for one, and I knew that once Michael started expounding on the virtues and drawbacks of each brand, I wouldn't have to contribute much.

Honestly, I couldn't have cared less about DVD players, but I desperately needed time to think.

While Michael droned on about the merits of a regular DVD player versus Blu-Ray, my mind was in turmoil.

What was Nick's problem? I had changed into jeans and my shirt was definitely baggy. Michael didn't seem to be having any self-control issues.

I wished Felicia were there; she understood those kinds of things better than I did. My clothes were a little tight since they were a couple of years old, but really, it wasn't like I was blessed or anything...not like Mom and Felicia both were. The way Nick was acting anyone would think I was some kind of femme fatale.

Michael started in on the AV connections, whatever those were, and I nodded, and said "Really?" a lot, which seemed to please him.

I wondered how Michael saw me. Was there a way to ask him without him realizing what I was doing? I thought about it for a bit, and came up with an innocuous enough sounding question.

I forestalled Michael as he was about to move on to the remote control functions by casually saying, "Oh, Michael, I was wondering if you thought I was dressed okay to go out and grab something to eat afterwards."

I crossed my fingers hoping that I wasn't being too obvious and that he would elaborate; he always did with electronic related topics.

"You look incredible."

Although there was no doubting the sincerity in Michael's voice, what did it mean?

I laughed, trying to keep the mood light, but ferret out more information at the same time.

"I hardly think an old ratty t-shirt would qualify me as incredible, but I appreciate the thought."

"On you it looks..." his eyes were trailing along the neckline, which had skewed to one side as usual, hence the tank top underneath.

"Can I kiss you?" he blurted out.

Not much finesse there. Oh well, it was what I wanted, at least I thought I did.

"Michael..."

I decided I'd better explain that being in full view of the living room window was not a such good time for that type of thing, but if he didn't mind waiting...

However, before I could say much of anything, a familiar and hated voice rudely interrupted.

"CeeCee," I could hear what sounded like controlled fury in Nick's voice. "Your mom is upstairs waiting on you."

"Okay, okay," I answered him impatiently. Mom must have used the back door. "I'll be there in a minute."

Folding his arms, Nick made himself comfortable, leaning on the doorframe making it all too clear he wasn't going anywhere.

"Fine," I muttered getting up from the porch. "Happy now...?" I murmured sarcastically as I passed Nick.

"Ecstatic," he returned in the same tone.

Something had to be done about that man; he was like some crazed, overzealous guard dog. Mark and Mom obviously didn't feel the need to do anything about him, they were always taking his side, so it was up to me.

I began to fantasize about different ways to dispose of him.

Method 1—Poison his food. Problems—I didn't possess enough chemistry knowledge to do that without getting caught. Jail time didn't appeal.

Method 2—Throw him off the nearest overpass. Problems—How to get him there and, once there, how to get him close enough to the edge so that my 125 pound frame could force his 200 pound frame over the railing. Again, jail time loomed in front of me.

Method 3—"Accidentally" run over him with the car. Problems—we only had the one vehicle, the van didn't count, and Mom wouldn't think very kindly of me if I totaled it. I was pretty sure Nick's thick skull alone would crush the whole front end.

There were other ideas floating around in my head, but they all pretty much ran along the same lines as my first three. Short of violence, there was no way to rid myself of the demon.

Even though they were all useless ideas, and I was just basically blowing off steam, the mental pictures alone put me in a better mood. I was almost smiling by the time we got to Mark's room.

It was a long afternoon, but by suppertime Nick's pickup bed was loaded down and closed up inside the garage.

Although we were all starving, Mom didn't feel like cooking, so we agreed sandwiches and chips would be fine. It hadn't been as rough on her as the first day finding The Allison Box, but it hadn't been easy either. A lot of the stuff belonged to Dad.

I thought she was holding up fairly well, but it didn't feel right to bail on her, so I caught Michael alone and asked if he would mind taking a rain check on supper. He was filthy and wanted a shower badly, so he was more than agreeable.

I walked him to his car and, deciding I would rather be in control of the situation than waiting for whatever he chose to do, put my hands on each side of his face and kissed him. Remembering how Nick's feather like kiss had totally stunned me, I tried to imitate it for Michael.

By the look on his face when I drew back, I'd succeeded.

"Thanks for your help," I whispered softly.

I quickly turned and ran back to the house. As I opened the front door, I glanced back. Michael was standing exactly where I'd left him. I smiled, poor guy...I knew exactly how he felt.

I walked into the house and straight into another confrontation with Nick.

"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

"I don't know what you mean," I countered belligerently.

I looked around wildly for Mom and Mark. I needed backup.

"You know exactly what I mean, and don't think anyone is coming to your rescue, they're taking showers."

I would swear the man was reading my mind.

"I don't need rescuing from you," I denied scornfully, lying through my teeth. "My life is none of your business."

"Someone needs to knock some sense into that hard head of yours," Nick growled, "and apparently neither your mother nor Mark is up to the challenge."

"My hard head," he was unbelievable. "What about your thick skull? What Michael and I do is between us, stop butting in!"

"I will stop butting in when you quit making a mess of your life and everyone else's," Nick retorted. "You're using that kid to test out your new found femininity, and I won't have it. He deserves better."

That stopped me in my tracks.

Was that what I was doing? Using Michael...? I hadn't looked at it that way.

Although it was a hard pill to swallow, Nick was probably right. Michael was a nice guy, and I liked him a lot, but I knew there wasn't ever going to be more to it than that. I had been using him not only as an experiment, but also as a distraction to take my mind off Nick.

I felt my face growing hot. Nick could never find out about that last part. I would die of embarrassment and shame, if that were humanly possible.

I had to think, but I couldn't very well do it with Nick standing there, watching me. I made a move in the direction of the stairs, and without a word, Nick moved out of my way.

He had made his point.

Chapter 17

Dear Diary,

I hate myself.

CeeCee

As soon as I heard Nick get into the shower, I headed downstairs. Grabbing a water bottle, I stuck the note I had written in plain sight on the door of the fridge where Mom would see it.

I made it out the front door without meeting anyone, and took off running. I didn't want any company; there were too many things I needed to think about, and running always seemed to clear my mind.

After escaping from Nick, I'd changed into my running clothes and bided my time. I knew that Nick would want to shower as soon as Mark was out, and that Mark wouldn't want to go run after cleaning up.

Personally, I was too upset to eat anything; I would eat later. The note was a courtesy to Mom who, I knew, would wait supper for me if she thought I was still upstairs.

I was able to think more clearly by the time I reached the jogging park.

Dealing with Michael was not going to be easy after what I had done to him. I had to be honest with him, well as honest as I could be without giving away too much. He would most likely be angry, and I deserved it. That stupid kiss probably had him thinking that we were a 'thing'. I hoped his feelings weren't as involved as mine were with Nick.

Nick...I could hardly bear to think about him.

Michael's reaction to my kiss was like a carbon copy of my reaction to Nick's kiss...an incredibly earth-shattering moment for me. I wanted the comparison to stop there, but I was fairly certain it didn't.

When I kissed Michael it had been nice, but nothing to write home about. My fear was that Nick felt the same exact thing about kissing me. I understood, more clearly than before, that a kiss could mean nothing or everything, but not necessarily the same thing at the same time to the two people involved.

As nice as Michael was, he wasn't right for me. I wanted Nick, but he was too old for me and only saw me as a pesky younger sister. I had to believe that there was someone out there waiting for me...I just had to find him.

Nick had unintentionally awakened me to the fact that I had all of the passions and desires of a normal...well...as much I wanted to say woman, the smirk that I knew would have appeared on Nick's face at the term stopped me short, and I substituted female instead.

Because of him I had experienced, and apparently was still experiencing, the pain of a first crush—I refused to call it love, it was nothing more than an infatuation—as well as the awareness of the potential pleasure that could be mine in a true relationship.

I wanted that...wanted it so badly that it was like a constant ache inside of me...and I wouldn't settle for anything less. Well...maybe I would settle for less of the pain part.

I sighed, that meant hurting Michael. My feelings for him were nothing like the turmoil Nick could stir in me just by hearing someone mention his name.

The older I got, the more complicated life became.

I yearned for the early days, the days when Dad was normal, and I hadn't a care in the world. He would carry me on his shoulders and I was his little princess. If I got hurt or disappointed, he was always there to make everything better. There was no problem so great that he couldn't fix it for me. I was protected and safe.

I missed Dad...missed my childhood.

Growing up was pure agony.

By the time I arrived back at the house, I knew what I had to do. Michael might not understand, but I had to make him see that we weren't right for each other.

I would concentrate on the district cross-country meet in October, and forget about the male part of the species...at least temporarily. They were nothing but trouble. Maybe when I'd matured a little I would be ready for a relationship with the right guy. I hoped so.

I could hear everyone out in the kitchen, so I headed upstairs to take my shower. The cool water was exactly what I needed. Feeling almost human again, I made my way downstairs to join the others.

"You're very lucky Mom is watching out for you," Mark informed me as I refilled my water bottle and stuck it in the fridge.

"Okay, I'll bite," I returned playfully. "Why?"

"That last piece of chocolate meringue pie would be history by now if she hadn't been guarding it for you."

I'd forgotten about the pie.

"Thanks Mom," I said gratefully. "I know how dangerous that must have been for you holding your own against these two hardened criminals."

"I did have to get out my wooden spoon and splat their hands a few times," Mom admitted, laughing. "I'll pull out the sandwich stuff for you."

"No, that's okay," I stopped her. "I'll get what I need. Then...the pie."

While I fixed my sandwich, I wondered what had gotten into Nick. He had been talking and laughing with the others before I came in, but he had fallen strangely silent.

Mom and Mark were discussing the schedule for the next day, but Nick only participated whenever they directed a specific question at him.

I risked a glance at him as I sat down at the table. He was watching me. Our eyes met...mine questioning, his searching. What was he looking for? Mentally shrugging, I tried to ignore him and do justice to my sandwich. I didn't have the energy to decipher him.

"I'm going to bed early tonight," I announced to no one in particular as I ate my pie. "I'm beat."

I wasn't enjoying it much, but I didn't want Mom to know that after she'd worked so hard to save me the last piece.

I actively avoided Nick's eyes—he saw too much—as I rinsed my plate and put it in the dishwasher. Grabbing a cold water bottle out of the fridge, I said goodnight to everyone and high-tailed it up to my room. I wasted no time getting ready for bed, wanting my lights out before anyone came upstairs.

No more confrontations for the night...I was done.

My alarm went off at 5:30 as usual, but I had turned down the volume before going to bed, not about to risk a repeat of the previous morning. Determined not to wake anyone, I took every precaution, trying to mute every sound.

After I finished stretching, I hurried down to the kitchen and set my empty water bottle on the counter by the sink. I would fill it later, when I could make more noise.

Reaching into the fridge for a cold one, I noticed I only had one left. Before bedtime when I had taken one out, I thought there had been two.

Okay, it was official...I was losing it. Nothing new there.

Part of me knew it couldn't be that easy, getting out of the house without Nick. I wasn't even surprised when the dark figure rose from the couch.

"The mystery of the missing water bottle solved," I whispered.

"Not surprised to see me?" he asked. "I could tell you were trying your hardest not to wake me up...how considerate."

"In case you can't see in the dark, this is me rolling my eyes at you," I said and took off running.

As usual, he stayed with me the whole time, running silently beside me, letting me set the pace. He was actually a very good running companion...it was the only time I felt completely relaxed with him. Of course, that was probably due more to the fact that we didn't try to talk than anything else.

Back at the house, I insisted that he shower first again, saying that I needed to drink more water.

As soon as I heard the shower start, I picked up the phone and called Michael. He'd been bugging me all week about making it to Bible class on Sunday mornings, and I was about to take him up on the offer of a lift. He was excited and told me to be ready by nine o'clock.

That gave me about two hours...plenty of time.

I pulled out my trusty box of raisin bran and had a bowl of cereal. Cleaning up after myself, I noticed the note I had written the night before still on the fridge. I threw it away and replaced it with a new note letting Mom know I had already eaten breakfast. The shower stopped, and I headed upstairs to get ready.

Standing in front of my closet after my shower, I examined the contents. I only had a couple of outfits suitable for church. Mom was going to force a shopping trip on me soon...I could feel it.

After Nick's revelation the day before, I knew it was unavoidable, but maybe it was a good thing. I hadn't paid much attention to my appearance over the years because I didn't think I had much to work with, but apparently I'd been wrong.

I would never look like Felicia, but maybe in my own way, I could be attractive, too. Mom's dress sense was undeniable, and I had confidence that she would know what to do with me.

Uncharacteristically, I suddenly found the idea intriguing.

I donned a sleeveless white fitted blouse, my usual fare, and short black straight skirt—they were both somewhat snug, I just hadn't realized it before—and surveyed myself in the mirror. I was a bit curvier than I remembered but, not having spent much time examining my reflection, hadn't noticed.

I was almost fully dressed and ready to go when I heard a knock.

"Come in," I said distractedly, sitting on the edge of my bed and bending over to put on my shoes.

The only dress shoes I had were the ones from the "date incident," but at least they were well broken in.

"Breakfast is ready," Nick informed me.

"Didn't Mom get the note I left her?" I asked glancing up in confusion.

"No, I threw it away before she saw it."

"It wasn't intended for you," I said crossly.

"When did you eat breakfast?" he asked, ignoring my statement.

"While you were in the shower," I replied as nicely as I could. "I didn't want anything heavy, so I had cereal."

I was determined to keep calm, not let him upset me. He was just so...so...I couldn't even think of a word frustrating enough to describe him.

"Your mother takes great pleasure in feeding people," Nick remonstrated, "Don't take that away from her."

I knew he was right, and I didn't want to be upset when Michael picked me up, so I gave in...not gracefully, but still, I didn't argue.

"Fine, I'll come down and have a piece of toast."

I tried to step around him.

Closing his fingers around my elbow, he turned me towards him. "Where's your bracelet?"

"In my jewelry box," I answered irritably, "where I keep it."

"Put it on."

I glared at him defiantly...I couldn't help it.

Keeping his hold on my elbow, he hauled me over to the dresser and opened my jewelry box. The bracelet he had given me was lying on top. He raised his eyebrows at that, but didn't say anything. Since I never wore jewelry, as far as he knew it could very well be on top simply because it was the last piece I'd acquired.

"There," he commented as he fastened the bracelet around my left wrist, "that's much better."

I usually wore it on my right wrist, since my watch normally occupied my left, but I hadn't had time to put my watch on yet. I could do without it for one morning.

Although I didn't want to admit it, I wanted to wear the bracelet. I just couldn't bring myself to do it voluntarily with Nick watching.

Standing there so close to Nick, his hands holding my wrist, I suddenly had to fight a strong urge to put my hands on the sides of his face as I had Michael last night, and...I flinched, shying away from the rest of my thought. I turned toward the door, and Nick dropped my wrist, following me downstairs where Mom and Mark were already eating breakfast.

"We waited for you like one pig waits for another," Mark joked, his mouth partially full.

"Oink, oink," I returned lightly. "Oh wait! Maybe I have the wrong animal. Let's ask the resident expert," turning to Nick, I raised my eyebrows in mock interest.

"CeeCee," Mom looked at me in surprise, "You're already dressed and ready to go."

"Sorry, I forgot to tell you," I pulled out a chair avoiding all eyes "Michael is coming to pick me up in about forty-five minutes. He asked me to go to class with him, and I told him I would."

"I wish I'd known you wanted to go," Mom said a little reproachfully. "I would like to go to class again. It was too hard to get James there that early so we usually only made it to worship service."

She sighed.

"There's no reason why we can't be ready to go in plenty of time, Allison," Nick assured her.

"Wonderful," she smiled at him gratefully. "Come sit, both of you, and eat."

I ate a piece of toast, just as I had promised, downed a fairly large glass of orange juice to help force the toast down, and then excused myself to brush my teeth.

I would have taken off the bracelet while I was upstairs, but I did want to wear it, and Nick had given me the excuse I needed.

After a cursory check in the mirror to make sure I looked okay, I decided to wait for Michael in the living room. I certainly didn't want Nick answering the door.

When I got downstairs, the others were already in their rooms changing for church. I stared blankly out the front window, not seeing anything, my mind having trouble focusing.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when two hands began gently massaging my upper arms. Thinking it must be Mark, I leaned back, relaxing against him, and closed my eyes.

"Break it to him gently," Nick whispered in my ear.

I stiffened and jerked away, turning to face him in the same movement.

"You...Mark...I..." I stammered.

"There he is," Nick nodded towards the window. "Remember to be kind."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I denied indignantly.

Not for the world would I let him know he was right about what I planned to do.

"He's infatuated with you," Nick's sober words followed me as I practically ran to the front door.

Michael was halfway out of the car by the time I got to him. I could see he wanted a repeat performance, but I faked oblivion, and got in. I wished I were still oblivious, witnessing other people's pain was not something I enjoyed.

Clueless about how to do what I had to do, I wondered whether I should wait until after church. How would he take it? Nick thought he was infatuated with me. Could that be possible? Would it hurt him even more than I suspected?

"What?" I asked absently.

Michael had been talking, but I'd only caught the tail end, lost in my own thoughts.

"I asked if you wanted to go out for lunch after church," Michael patiently repeated himself.

"Michael," I began tentatively, "We need to talk."

"Nothing good ever follows those four words," Michael joked.

"Michael..."

I hadn't a clue how to begin.

"CeeCee...?"

It suddenly dawned on him that something was wrong.

"I can't see you anymore," I blurted out.

Good CeeCee, I thought angrily to myself, could you be any more clichéd and melodramatic.

"What do you mean?"

"I just want us to be friends, not...dating or anything," I tried to clarify my previous statement.

"But last night...you...we..."

Michael, face frozen in shock, had obviously been expecting a very different conversation.

"Maybe you should pull over while we talk," I suggested, pointing to a deserted parking lot.

Pulling into the lot, Michael stopped and put the car in park. He sat there, staring out the windshield, dazed.

"Michael, I'm sorry..."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to hurt you."

"No, why are you breaking up with me?" he asked dully.

"We weren't actually going together."

"We were together almost every day this last week, and you kissed me last night," he reminded me.

"I know, and I'm sorry," I apologized, miserable.

"I just want to know why."

"I need to concentrate on cross-country and I don't have time for anything else."

My pathetic excuse sounded lame, even to me.

"I haven't interfered with your running schedule, and I don't mind dating whenever you're available," he offered turning to me eagerly, hope in his eyes.

"It wouldn't work."

"Why not? I've never felt about anyone else the way I feel about you, CeeCee," Michael pleaded. "Please just give us a chance. It'll work, we'll make it work."

"I can't, Michael."

"Just tell me what to do, what to change, and I'll do it."

"Michael..."

"I don't want to lose you."

"Michael..."

"What we felt last night was so incredible..."

"I'm in love with someone else."

I hadn't meant to say it—wasn't even thinking it—but somehow it had just slipped out.

"You're what?" Michael stared at me incredulously. "How can you be in love with someone else? You kissed me."

"I know, and I'm sorry, if I could take it back I would," I mumbled, miserably close to tears. "I thought maybe I could forget him, that kissing you might..."

I couldn't finish. Nick was right; I was messing up other people's lives. Tears began to roll down my cheeks.

"I'm so sorry, Michael," I whispered. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Michael put his fingers under my chin and lifted my face so he could look into my eyes.

"Is it someone I know?"

"I can't talk about it."

"He doesn't know, does he?"

"No," I admitted.

"We're quite a pair, aren't we," he looked at me ruefully.

"Michael, I know it's no excuse, but I've only had one other date, and I'm not very good at this type of thing. I'm just so stupid."

"Ah, the 'broken nose' episode," Michael smiled slightly.

"You heard about that?"

"Craig was a jerk," Michael said. "I never believed his story."

"Really...?"

"Really," Michael assured me, "and I certainly don't believe it now that I've gotten to know you."

"That's very generous of you considering the way I'm treating you."

Michael took my hands in both of his and smiled into my eyes.

"I admit I was angry a few minutes ago, but that was from disappointment. I can see I assumed too much. I'm the one who should apologize. I went a little overboard."

"You're so nice, and I am so very sorry."

"No more apologies," Michael admonished me. "I think we should get to church," he added looking at the clock on the dashboard.

"Oh no, we missed class and you wanted to go..."

"That's okay...we'll get there for services."

When we arrived, Felicia and Allen were entering the building.

"I'll see you later," I said as I opened my door, unsure what to do next.

"You're not getting away from me that easily," Michael warned as he hopped out and walked around the car, laughing at my alarmed expression. "CeeCee, I like you and I enjoy being with you. If you don't want to be friends I'll understand, but I just want you to know, I'd miss you."

"I don't deserve your friendship," I told him hoarsely, the lump in my throat making it difficult to talk.

"Yeah, I know," he teased taking my arm and leading me towards the front doors of the church.

Standing at the back of the auditorium, we managed to locate Felicia and Allen in the same pew as the previous Sunday. Lance was already next to Felicia.

Starting down the aisle just ahead of me, Michael didn't notice that I had been detained. The hand gripping my arm could only belong to one person. I sighed in resignation.

"Where have you been?" Nick whispered furiously in my ear.

"Michael and I had a stop to make," I told him airily.

"You chickened out, didn't you?"

"Butt out!"

I twisted away from him as I said it.

I needed to find a new phrase to use on him as he obviously didn't understand the phrase 'butt out'.

Hurrying down the aisle, I scooted into the pew and sat next to Michael just in time. He'd noticed I wasn't behind him and was about to come looking for me.

Ignoring the question in his eyes, I greeted Felicia, Lance, and Allen, thinking that I would need to get Felicia alone to talk...and soon.

I felt Mom slide in the pew next to me. Turning to smile at her, my smile disappeared as quickly as it had come.

"Nick, what do you think you're doing? That's Mom's seat."

He shrugged nonchalantly and replied quietly, "Explain your disappearing act, and I might be convinced to switch seats."

I huffed at him, and turned around to talk to Michael. Just my luck that Michael would pick that moment to ask me what time it was. I automatically looked at my wrist just as I remembered that I wasn't wearing my watch.

"Hey, you're wearing your charm bracelet on your left wrist today," he commented. "Is your watch broken?"

Maybe Nick hadn't heard, or maybe he wouldn't realize the significance of the seemingly innocent statement. I could only hope.

I heard Nick suck in a breath, then felt him shaking. Turning to him in alarm, I wondered what in the world was wrong with him, but my alarm soon turned to fury.

He was laughing at me and trying hard to stifle it. Not only had he heard, but he knew exactly what it implied. I elbowed him in the ribs, but he didn't respond.

With a muffled "Excuse me," he finally got up and left.

"What's with him," Michael asked curiously.

"Who knows?" I responded irritably. "Ignore him. I do."

"Interesting," Michael said thoughtfully.

He started to say more, but decided against it...thankfully.

Mom sat down by me and Mark slid in after her. She patted me on the knee and I smiled at her.

"Have you seen Nick?" Mark asked. "He left during class, and didn't make it back."

"Yeah, we saw him," I answered vaguely. "I'm sure he's around here somewhere."

Nick showed up just as the service was beginning. He was under control. I was not.

My dominant emotion was a toss up between anger and embarrassment, but both were borderline unbearable.

Nick wasn't stupid; if he bothered to put all the pieces together, he could easily figure out that Mark's annoying little sister was madly in love with him. I'd given him plenty of clues.

Life just keeps getting better and better, I thought sarcastically.

Although I was ashamed to admit it, I had no idea what the sermon was about. My mind was a complete and total mess.

Afterwards, Felicia leaned past Lance and Michael to whisper urgently in my ear, "Back me up".

I nodded slightly to let her know I understood.

As we exited the auditorium, I could hear Allen pleading with Felicia about something, but she was adamant. Allen gave up and made his way over to me.

"CeeCee, you wouldn't mind if Felicia canceled on you today would you?"

Although I could see the desperation in his face, and I felt for him, I had a feeling his days as Felicia's boyfriend were numbered and there was nothing either of us could do about it.

"I'm truly sorry Allen, but today is especially important to me."

I wasn't lying. I needed Felicia. We hadn't spent much time together and I missed her.

Allen's shoulders visibly slumped as he went to join Michael. Felicia came over to me, smiling gratefully.

"You owe me big," I murmured out the side of my mouth.

"I know," she whispered back. "We need to talk."

"Nothing good ever follows those four words," I quoted Michael from earlier.

Felicia gave me a strange look.

"Will Michael mind if you ride with me? I told Allen to catch a ride with him."

"Michael is fine with whatever I want to do," I assured her.

"Wish I could say the same about Allen," Felicia complained.

"Are you coming over to eat lunch?" I asked her hopefully.

"Actually, I was hoping to take you out for lunch," she countered. "I don't want to be in a group today," a phrase I never expected to hear coming out of her mouth.

"Fine with me, I'll go check with Mom and make sure she's okay with it."

Mom was still feeling badly about ruining my date the previous day, so she was more than happy for me to go. I found Mark already by the car in the parking lot and told him my plans, asking him what time he was leaving.

"We're planning to leave right after lunch to give us enough time to drop off the stuff in Lewisville. Guess I won't see you again before I leave," he hugged me tightly. "You behave yourself. I'm not sure when I'll be back with classes starting next week, but it will be sometime in September. Call me."

"I will," I promised. "Love you".

"Love you, too," he echoed.

I turned away from Mark and ran straight into Nick. His arms went around me, and mine crept up around his neck of their own volition.

"No more experimenting on impressionable youths," he warned softly.

I suddenly had no voice. All I could do was shake my head. He released me and stepped back. I was going to miss them both terribly.

Trying to hide my tears, I couldn't look at either of them. Turning away, I sped across the parking lot to Felicia's car. She took one look at my face and, without a word, started the engine.

~ * * ~

"Okay, spill," I demanded, sitting in the middle of Felicia's bed.

"I will if you will," Felicia countered.

"Alright, but you first," I acknowledged, "Since I had to rescue you."

"I broke up with Allen last night."

"But you rode together this morning," I pointed out.

"That was your fault."

"My fault?"

"Michael was supposed to be Allen's ride to church."

"Michael was..." I began, "with me," I finished, comprehension finally dawning.

"Exactly," Felicia said smugly. "You owe me."

"But wait...Are you telling me Allen had no other way to get to church?" I asked in disbelief.

"Allen's parents don't go to church, and aren't all that thrilled that Allen does," Felicia informed me. "Michael started inviting him a couple of years ago, when they first became friends. Allen could have ridden with Michael's parents, but decided to use it as an excuse to call me and beg a lift."

"So Allen was hoping to spend time with you today and get you to change your mind," I concluded.

"That pretty much sums it up," Felicia agreed. "I told him you and I had plans."

"Liar, liar pants on fire," I chanted.

"So what's up with you and Michael?" Felicia asked, ignoring my teasing.

"I'm not exactly sure how to put this," I hesitated. "Michael seemed to think we were a 'thing', and I didn't want to be a 'thing', so..."

"You dumped him," Felicia finished for me.

"It's not really dumping if you weren't going together in the first place," I objected.

"You dumped him," Felicia asserted.

"Okay, I dumped him," I allowed, giving up. "Why did you dump Allen? I thought things were going great."

"I got tired of him," was the surprising answer.

That didn't sound like Felicia at all; it sounded too...hard-boiled. I wasn't sure how to respond to that, so I decided to skim over it.

"Where do you want to go for lunch?" I asked instead.

"I had an idea," Felicia said, her usual enthusiasm back in her voice. "Why don't we raid the fridge and watch the first two Agent Jack Knight movies in the media room. You said you wanted to see them again once you finished reading the books."

"Great!" I replied. "You don't mind?"

"Would I ever turn down a chance to watch that gorgeous hunk of manhood on the big screen?" Felicia asked.

"Mitch Hunter is something," I agreed. "Wonder where they found him?"

"Mom told me that he wasn't even an actor. The only thing the public knows is that he was a ranch hand. Mom told me he was managing a ranch in one of those big states up north, like Wyoming or Montana, for some bigwig in Hollywood who used it as a "retreat". The producer or director, I forget which, had been searching for almost a year for someone to play the part and had just about given up when he was invited to the ranch for a holiday. As soon as he saw Mitch Hunter, he knew he was the guy, but at first Mitch refused to do a screen test. It wasn't until after he met the author that he finally agreed to try out for the part."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure," Felicia admitted. "I know part of the problem had to do with publicity, he doesn't like it, but I'm not sure of the details. That's all Mom would tell me."

"Well, let's not keep the gorgeous hunk of manhood waiting," I suggested.

"Let's not," Felicia agreed wholeheartedly.

Chapter 18

Dear Diary,

I don't want to date.

CeeCee

Deciding that we had jumped into deep water too quickly with the whole dating thing, Felicia and I came up with an acceptable compromise we could both live with.

Felicia would make Friday and Saturday nights her date nights, and I wouldn't date at all.

Although she argued with me about it, I was adamant. Until I was over Nick, I refused to treat anyone else as I had treated, or mistreated, Michael. As much as I hated to admit it, Nick was right...experimenting only caused heartache for everyone involved.

Spending time with Felicia again made me realize how much I'd missed her. The week we were 'seeing' Allen and Michael showed us that nothing could replace our 'girl time'. Once again, Felicia became my ride to and from school, and we spent the afternoons and evenings doing homework and talking.

I couldn't bring myself to tell Felicia about everything that had happened with Nick for a couple of reasons.

1. It was too agonizingly fresh in my mind to talk about easily.

2. I was ashamed to admit my feelings were strengthening not weakening.

I'd never told Felicia about the kiss or any of the details of my relationship with Nick. She only knew that I had a crush on him, and I decided it was best to leave it that way for the time being. I felt much too embarrassed to think about some of the things I had done, much less relive them by talking about them.

I continued to run every morning and evening, varying the speed and amount according to my coach's instructions, determined that nothing was going to get in the way of giving my best at the district cross-country meet at the end of October.

Although I no longer worried about scoring a scholarship—Mom assured me that she would be able to pay for my education—I didn't want to miss out on any opportunities.

Lunchtime was interesting. Even though Felicia and I were no longer dating Allen and Michael, they continued to sit at our table, along with their entourage, and poor Allen lapped up any bit of attention that Felicia threw at him.

Every week in September seemed to add a new face or two to the group.

Felicia was in her element. She was lively, witty, friendly, and everyone gravitated towards her. I was no exception.

At first, Felicia tried to drag me into the limelight with her, but I resisted. I think she felt guilty for hogging all of the attention...I wanted her to hog it.

Michael insisted on sitting by me at lunch every day. I tried to convince him to ask out Angela, the girl who had tried to stab me with the daggers in her eyes the first time she had seen Michael holding my hand, but he showed no interest. I could relate to that. I hoped that, after a while, we would both be able to date other people, but I wasn't holding my breath.

I mostly wished that Angela would chill with the stares and the glares. If looks really could kill, I'd be dead.

Some days, I took my laptop to school so Michael could help me figure out what I was doing—since I was a certified technological idiot—other times we would just sit and watch Felicia at work. I was in awe of her endless energy and witty conversation. We all were.

September passed in a blur of school, homework, running, and cleaning out the house. I called Mark every evening, as usual, but he and Nick were extremely busy once the semester started and weren't able to visit at all during September.

By the end of the month, the weather finally cooled off a bit and the fall storms began.

Mom hated the fact that I still ran, rain or shine, but I promised to stay home during intense thunderstorms. Of course, I was out the door as soon as the worst had passed, which didn't please her, because I needed to keep up my running schedule.

She offered to buy me a treadmill, but I cringed at the thought.

Felicia and I attended Bible class every Sunday morning. The youth minister, a man in his mid twenties named Eric Finley, was very easy to listen to because he didn't preach at us, simply led the discussions. I was sorry I hadn't gone sooner; it might have helped with a lot of my emotional baggage.

Most of the teenagers in the class had been there a while, and were comfortable sharing things about their personal life. Eric didn't allow the discussion to become too involved on Sunday mornings, but invited us to join one of the 'huddle groups' that met on Sunday nights. Our church back home had something like that for high school teenagers, but I'd been too young to participate at the time.

On the first night we met with the huddle group, I discovered that I wasn't the only teenager in the world suffering.

One of the girls in the group, Mary, had tried to commit suicide the year before and another girl, I think her name was Sylvia, was a drug addict, and then there was a boy named Phil who'd been abused by his dad.

There were others, but I didn't remember everything that was said, there was too much to take in all in at once. I couldn't believe I ever thought everyone else's family life was normal. I'd spent the last few years of my life thinking that I was the only one in the world...no...the universe...that had been touched by tragedy.

How could I have been so blind to everything going on around me? Even though Felicia and I had become good friends, we still lived in our own little world. It wasn't until Allen and Michael forced their way into our lives that we began to look around us and notice other people living their own problems.

My life hadn't been easy, but I'd been wrong in assuming that everyone else's was.

No wonder Nick was so hard on me. Having some distance between us, I was able to look at things more objectively—by things, I meant, of course, my violent reactions whenever he was around—and I had to admit my interpretations were actually misinterpretations the majority of the time.

From the start, I felt like Nick was being critical of...well pretty much everything about me...and although I didn't want to care about what he thought, I couldn't help it. It also irritated me that he was always right. I knew, logically, that mind reading wasn't possible, but at times it felt like he was doing exactly that. Maybe I was just predictable.

His timing was terrible...showing up at the worst possible period of my life. There was no way he was ever going to think well of me, I had seen to that, but I could turn my life around, be a better person...but how? I needed a list, no surprise there.

After a few days of pondering I came up with what I thought would be a good place to start. The list wasn't all inclusive, but I could always add things as they came to me.

There were a few obvious places to begin like:

1. Paying attention to others

2. Listening

3. Willingness to help

4. Caring

5. Getting involved at church

None of them sounded difficult, but for me they would be. The first one alone was so alien to my nature that training myself was going to take some determination.

The key to the whole thing, I decided, was number 5. If I got more involved at church, the rest might fall into place naturally. It was worth a try.

As September turned into October, I slowly began to feel better about myself. Felicia and I became deeply involved in the huddle groups, and I even spoken up at one. Although it may not have seemed like much to the others, for me it was huge step.

I added something else to my list:

6. Opening up to people

We always started and ended every session with a prayer, and the one chosen to lead the prayer would go around the group and take prayer requests. I asked them to pray for my mother, explaining that my father had died in July and, as tears filled my eyes to hear someone praying specifically for Mom and me, I realized what an incredibly uplifting experience that was.

Once we discovered that quite a few of the kids from church went to school with us, Felicia began inviting the ones with the same lunch hour to join us at our table. Our small group was definitely growing by leaps and bounds.

One problem developed as I became better at the things on my list: boy trouble.

According to Felicia, I had been rather unapproachable before. I was pretty sure she was being tactful. To put it bluntly, I scared the male population to death.

As I opened up a little and paid more attention to other people, guys began to ask me out. They noticed I hadn't broken Michael's nose, so I guess they thought I was safe.

The problem was that none of them appealed to me. It was too soon, and I was still too obsessed with Nick. My heart sped up alarmingly whenever I allowed myself to even think about him—which wasn't often...I wasn't masochistic—and I knew it would be wrong for me to date anyone else while I was feeling that way.

My usual excuse was lack of time, which was true, but the real reason was lack of inclination. Felicia had no such inhibitions. She went out with a new guy every weekend, having learned her lesson with Allen.

To be fair, she made sure that every one of her dates knew she was not going to be exclusive with any of them, and was definitely not interested in anything more than a goodnight kiss. The guys still lined up to date her, each one hoping he would be the exception. She allowed them a Friday and Saturday night and that was it...on to the next one.

I envied her lightheartedness.

By the first week in October, panic began setting in. With Homecoming only two weeks away Felicia had been asked by every guy she knew as well as some she didn't, to be their date to the homecoming football game and dance, but she hadn't made a decision.

To my complete surprise, a couple of guys attempted to ask me, but I managed to figure out what was going on and head them off before they were able to finish the actual question. I realized it was only a matter of time before I would be forced into answering, and I didn't have a good excuse ready. I just knew I didn't want to go.

Lack of time didn't qualify for the major event of the semester, especially since I had attended the previous year. I didn't want to go, but I wanted to avoid hurting anyone's feelings. Sensitizing myself to other people opened me up to a lot of heartache.

I had never noticed before how clearly emotions could show in someone's eyes. I had very rarely looked at anyone, actively avoiding eye contact for the most part, but suddenly I couldn't seem to help it.

I found it extremely uncomfortable.

Someone cornered me on Friday, the week before the dance, and if I hadn't seen Coach Miller come into the cafeteria at just the right moment, I would have had a date to the dance whether I wanted it or not. Thankfully, I was able to excuse myself in the middle of the question, explaining that I needed to talk to my coach.

There were a lot of reasons why I couldn't bring myself to agree to go to the dance, but the main one was the fact that the weekend following the dance was the district cross country meet and I wasn't about to stupidly risk my chances as I had for Craig the jerk face. I was still beating myself up over that one.

That night on the phone Mark could tell something was bothering me. I hesitated to bring up something so inane, but it was one of the very few things I couldn't talk to Felicia about since she thought I was nuts, telling me it was no big deal, just one dance, and I should simply pick somebody and go have fun.

Making up my mind, I reluctantly admitted, "I do have a small problem. Don't laugh, okay?"

"I'll do my best," Mark promised, but I could already hear the amusement in his voice.

"Alright, I'm not telling you," I huffed. "You're already laughing at me."

"I'm not, I promise," Mark said solemnly, and then ruined it by adding, "but you do tend to over-dramatize things."

"Not helping."

"Okay, okay, I solemnly swear not to laugh," Mark said, keeping his voice as serious as he could which, I hated to tell him, wasn't saying much.

"I don't believe you, but I'll tell you anyway," I sighed heavily. "I don't want to go to the Homecoming Dance."

"I can understand that, after the fiasco last year," Mark said reasonably. "Don't go. Problem solved."

"Yeah, it would be if it were that easy," I said morosely.

"What's the big deal?"

"It's easy to decide not to go, but it's harder to think up a good reason to turn someone down."

I hoped he would catch on without my having to explain in great detail as it was a little embarrassing. I had zero experience with that type of thing, and I hated having no idea how to handle it.

"Oh, I see," I could almost hear Mark nodding to himself. "Someone has already asked you."

"Actually three someone's have attempted it, but as soon as I figured out where the conversation was heading, I made up some excuse to leave," I admitted. "I don't want to hurt their feelings, but I refuse to go out with someone just because they asked me and I couldn't say no."

"Not interested in any of them?" Mark asked curiously.

"No," and that was all the answer he would get out of me about that.

"When is this dance?"

"Next Saturday, a week from tomorrow," I replied mournfully. "Do you have any suggestions?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," Mark said, sounding suspiciously mischievous.

He paused, presumable for dramatic effect.

Now who's over-dramatizing, I thought resentfully.

That remark had stung.

"Well..." I prompted impatiently.

"Tell them you already have a date," he suggested.

"Yeah, right, and when I don't show up to the dance I will be a known liar as well as a nose breaker," I said scornfully. "I could have come up with that on my own."

"Ah, but you won't be lying," Mark said mysteriously.

"Will you just spit it out already?"

"I'll be your date," Mark offered. "I haven't seen you or Mom in over a month, so I think it's time for a visit anyway."

"I appreciate the offer," I told him, and I did, "but I would hate knowing I'd forced you into something like that."

"You're not forcing me," he contradicted, "I'm offering. There's a difference."

"You really wouldn't mind?"

"I wouldn't have volunteered if I minded."

"I accept," I said quickly, "so too late to change your mind now."

"Have Mom buy you a new dress when you go clothes shopping tomorrow," he suggested. "I wouldn't want to put you to shame."

"As if," I snorted.

We hung up laughing. Suddenly, I looked forward to the next weekend.

Chapter 19

Dear Diary,

Life is...good.

CeeCee

Mark wasn't answering his phone on the Friday night before the Homecoming Dance. Worriedly, I kept calling every fifteen minutes, desperate for a response. Almost an hour later, he finally picked up.

"Are you alright? Where have you been, I've been calling for an hour."

"I'm fine, CeeCee, thanks for asking," was the smug reply.

"Nick? What are you doing with Mark's phone? Is something wrong? Why hasn't he been answering? Is he there?"

"Slow down, CeeCee," Nick chuckled. "I can only answer one question at a time. I just got home, but my guess is that Mark forgot to take his cell phone with him. It looks like he was charging the battery."

"Thank goodness," I sighed in relief. "Sorry I bombarded you with questions. I was a little worried."

"A little...?" Nick asked in amusement.

"Okay, a lot," I admitted. "Could you do me a favor? I was going to make sure Mark knew to get here between 7:00 and 7:30 tomorrow. The dance starts at eight."

"I will make sure he gets the message," Nick promised. "I hear the next weekend you have a cross-country meet."

"The district meet," I replied. "All the others were just practice meets."

"How did you do at those?"

It sounded like he was interested, and I was more than happy to stay on the phone talking to him. We weren't even arguing.

"I won all but one of them," I said more than a little embarrassed—it sounded too much like blowing my own horn—but rather proud of myself at the same time. "I lost the first one because I let someone else set the pace, and didn't have anything left at the end, so a girl passed me right at the finish line."

"Sounds like you have a good chance of taking first place next weekend."

"I hope so."

I would be crushed if I didn't, but I could hardly say that.

"Guess I better get to bed," I said reluctantly afraid Nick would get bored if I kept him on the phone as long as I wanted to. "Five-thirty comes early."

"I remember," Nick replied ruefully, adding softly, "Sleep well, CeeCee."

"Night," I whispered, the thrill of hearing him say my name in that caressing way robbing me of my voice.

I slept so deeply I didn't hear the alarm right away. I woke up and stretched as I hit the snooze button. Lying there remembering another morning not too long ago when I had slept through my alarm, I couldn't stop the smile that spread across my face. Nick had been furious.

Enough of that, I told myself sternly and, hopping out of bed, prepared to run.

The day passed infuriatingly slowly. Felicia called me a couple of times, making sure I was still going to the dance, and I wondered idly if she had gotten over her crush on Mark. We hadn't talked about it since that Sunday at her house when we had decided to help each other deal with our unrealistic crushes, but she'd turned into a dating machine, so she must be over it.

Wish I could say the same, I thought wistfully.

By six o'clock, I was having a hard time not calling Mark's cell phone to see how close he was to arriving. I didn't want to bother him while he was driving, but I was anxious to see him, and I'd been dressed and ready to go for over an hour.

The shopping spree at the outlet mall in Grapevine the previous weekend had yielded a beautiful peridot dress that Mom insisted I get because it matched my eyes almost exactly.

Of course, then we had to find shoes to go with it. Mom bought white satin ones and then set about dying them to match the dress. She was truly amazing.

Then, because I had never worn a strapless dress before, we needed a strapless bra to go with it. After that, Mom insisted on picking out some makeup for me instead of borrowing hers as I had the last time.

Shopping wore me out...exhausting work. By the time we added in buying some school and church clothes, I felt like I had run two marathons in a row.

I would rather have run the marathons.

Gazing in the mirror at my unfamiliar reflection, I decided I didn't look too shabby. At least Mark wouldn't put me to shame. He would always be the better-looking one, but I would at least be able to hold my own.

I wasn't deliriously excited as I had been when Craig had asked me out, but I was...happy; something I hadn't been able to say in a long time.

Carefully sitting down on the edge of my bed with the fifth Agent Jack Knight novel, I tried to concentrate on the words. After about fifteen minutes, I gave up.

Once again, I found myself in front of the mirror.

Although I usually avoided looking at myself, what I saw there was so different from what I was used to seeing that I couldn't help but stare.

My green eyes glowed as if they had a light all their own, and my hair, which Mom had curled for me, although I refused to allow her to use hairspray, fell in soft curls around my shoulders.

I didn't have any cleavage, but that was fine with me. I would have been too embarrassed to leave the house if I had. The dress was form fitting with what Mom called a sweetheart neckline and a straight skirt that stopped just below the knees, but had a slit up the back so I could walk.

My shoes had two inch heels, which was a risk since I wasn't used to wearing that much heel, but I figured I could hold on to Mark when I needed to; he wouldn't let me fall. Mark topped me by a good four inches which was good because I dreaded the thought of showing up somewhere looking like the Amazon woman with her little man-slave in tow.

The doorbell rang at 7:05. Wondering who on earth it could be, I carefully made my way downstairs. I knew it wasn't Mark because he had a key, unless of course he had forgotten it.

Mom had already left for the dance since she'd volunteered to be a chaperone. I hadn't told her much about the dance incident the previous year, but I thought it was important for her to know that the punch had been spiked.

She'd definitely given the administration an earful, and then demanded that they schedule teachers to monitor the punch regularly during the dance. Mom knew how to get things done.

I was about five steps from the bottom, carefully navigating the stairs in the unaccustomed heels, when a movement caught my eye. Risking a glance upward, I saw Nick, a corsage box in his hands, standing at the foot of the stairs waiting for me.

Shocked, I completely missed a step and started to fall. My life didn't flash before my eyes, but I did see myself in a hospital room with my two broken legs strung up high above the bed, totally missing out on the cross country meet.

Nick was up the stairs and catching me before I even had a chance to make a noise.

"Stinkin' high heels," I muttered to cover my humiliation at Nick literally and figuratively catching me in such an awkward position. "Sorry," I said as I disentangled myself from him, "I wasn't expecting you," as if that explained everything. "Where's Mark?"

"Something came up," Nick murmured vaguely. "I know I'm not Mark, but I was hoping I would do instead."

Stupid tears...they always seemed to appear at the most inconvenient times. I couldn't risk using my voice, no telling how it would have sounded, so I simply nodded. I was just beginning to realize how nice Nick was.

He gently took my elbow and helped me make it safely down the last few steps. After releasing me, he opened the box and pulled out a wrist corsage, white with light green accents, which strangely enough matched my dress. Mom must have told Mark what color I would be wearing.

Since Nick's bracelet was on my right wrist, I held out my left one for the corsage. I had decided against wearing my watch; it didn't look right with the dress.

After fastening the corsage, he dropped my left wrist and reached down for my right one, fingering the bracelet without saying anything. I felt the warmth of his touch seeping through me, mesmerizing me. I was in no hurry to go anywhere.

Releasing his hold on my wrist, he held out his arm and asked, "Shall we?"

I place my hand in the crook, and let him lead me to the front door, afraid to say anything, afraid the dream might end. I knew he was there as a substitute for Mark, but I was going to live every minute of it to the fullest realizing the chance might never come my way again. I wasn't about to waste it.

As corny as it sounded even to me, for one night I fully intended to be Cinderella at the ball.

Nick led me to a car parked in the driveway.

"Where's your pickup?" I asked in surprise.

"I feel like a teenager admitting this," Nick said sheepishly, "but I borrowed my parents' car."

I laughed and Nick joined in.

"Well, you are going to a high school dance, after all."

"True," Nick agreed. "I thought you might have trouble climbing up into my pickup so..."

"Straight skirts are definitely not made for climbing" or walking either I added silently struggling to shorten my stride within the confines of the dress.

I was glad it was only for one evening because wearing that dress, as pretty as it made me feel, was going to get old quickly.

Nick helped me into the car, and walked around the front to get in. I couldn't take my eyes off of him in his dark suit, white shirt, and maroon tie...more used to seeing him in the Dockers and button-down shirt he always wore to church.

Although he was definitely what Felicia would call a gorgeous hunk of manhood no matter what he wore, I had to admit, in a suit he was the very definition of 'wow'. I yearned to have him all to myself instead of spending the evening in a crowd of teenagers, but what I really wished was for him to want that, too.

I directed him to the school, he hadn't been there before, and pointed him toward the gymnasium. The parking lot was already so crowded, however, that we ended up parking by the track field and walking quite a ways.

I didn't mind since Nick, ever the gentleman, came around and helped me out of the car and offered me his arm again.

I could get used to this, I sighed wistfully, then admitted, wishful thinking.

It was almost eight o'clock by the time we entered the gym, and it looked like the dance was already in full swing. We'd won the Homecoming football game the day before, so every one was in major excitement mode and apparently couldn't wait to get the party started. The gymnasium looked suspiciously familiar, and I decided that they must have recycled the decorations.

I didn't care...with Nick there the earth could have opened up and swallowed us whole and it wouldn't have mattered.

We spotted Mom by the punch, and made our way over so Nick could say hi. Mom gave Nick a hug and then took my hands to pull me over into what little true lighting there was in the whole gym.

"Let me look at you," Mom insisted. "You are absolutely gorgeous; wouldn't you say so, Nick?"

"Yes I would," Nick agreed.

I was beet red. I gave Mom a hug, more to distract her than anything else, and asked how the punch patrol was going.

"Everyone knows better than to mess with me," Mom declared and I believed it. "Oh, Nick, your corsage goes perfectly with the dress. How fortunate you could get one on such short notice."

Nick bought me the corsage, and Mom knew about it.

"My mother loves flowers and is on a first name basis with practically every florist in the whole Austin area," Nick grinned.

"Well, you two run along and have fun," Mom directed, looking past us and narrowing her beautiful blue eyes. "I think I see a suspect."

With that, she took off toward the punch bowl ready to do battle. Nick and I looked at each other and burst out laughing. Mom could be scary.

"CeeCee!" Felicia squealed from behind me.

I turned too quickly to greet her, and Nick put a hand on my arm to steady me.

I muttered "Stupid heels" under my breath before greeting Felicia.

Although I probably should have stuck with my customary one-inch heel, it was a bit too late to change my mind.

I didn't recognize the guy with Felicia. He was extremely good-looking with his black hair and black mysterious eyes, but quite a bit shorter than Nick and much slimmer. I didn't think he went to our high school. Even someone as oblivious as I was would remember a gorgeous guy like him. Where did she find them all?

"Hey, CeeCee," her date grinned at me or maybe he was just trying not to laugh at my klutziness.

"Er...hi," I replied uncertainly.

"I'm Nick Barrett," Nick broke in smoothly holding his hand out.

"Sam Franklin," Felicia's date replied, shaking Nick's hand enthusiastically.

Okay, so his name was Sam. I was fairly certain he wouldn't make it past the weekend, so I didn't think it was that important to remember his name, but just in case I repeated it to myself a few times.

"I though Mark was bringing you," Felicia whispered under the cover of Nick and Sam's polite conversation. "What's up?"

"Mark couldn't make it," I murmured blushing, thankful for the darkness of the gym.

"Well at least you came."

Felicia seemed a bit put out about the absent Mark, but I couldn't imagine her wishing for Mark when she had Sam there.

"I told you I would," I reminded her. I took a good look at her for the first time and wow! "You have got to be the most beautiful female in the whole place."

"But you are striking," Felicia complimented me.

"Oh, not yet, that part comes later in the evening," I said keeping a straight face.

I heard Nick chuckle appreciatively.

Felicia looked blank. After a few seconds, she started to giggle.

"You are so bad," she accused. "Watch out for her, Nick, she's dangerous."

"So I've heard," he replied. "Forewarned is forearmed."

"Come on, Sam," Felicia turned to the guy with her, "this is a dance so..."

Nick and I watched as Sam expertly twirled Felicia to the middle of the dance floor. I could see why she had picked him over all the others...he was an awesome dancer. She'd been keeping secrets again.

"Would you like to dance?" Nick asked, holding his hand out.

Reluctantly, I put my hand in his and nodded. When we reached the dance floor, Nick slid his hands around my waist.

Noticing my hesitation, he bent down and whispered in my ear, "You've put your arms around my neck before, CeeCee. Don't go all bashful on me now."

I laid my hands on the tops of his shoulders, it was the best I could do, and held myself stiffly away from him...too self-conscious for anything else.

I whispered back, "I'm not very good at this dancing thing."

"Neither am I. We'll just stand and sway to the music. I don't think anyone will notice."

He smiled at me, and I smiled back, beginning to feel more comfortable.

By the second song, I could feel my body relaxing, the music flowing through me almost hypnotically, by the third song my body seemed to have developed a mind of its own as it pressed up against Nick, and by the fourth song, I had my arms all the way around his neck with my head resting on his shoulder.

If that night was going to have to last me the rest of my life, I needed to make it good. I knew I shouldn't be taking advantage of his generosity in taking Mark's place, but I couldn't seem to stop myself. I was very careful not to do anything totally inappropriate, like nuzzling the side of his neck or nibbling on his ear, settling for semi-inappropriate instead.

Quite a few guys tried to cut in, but Nick, realizing that I didn't want to dance with any of them, apologetically told them no. I noticed Nick getting quite a few wistful glances from the female population, and I wondered if he was sorry that he was stuck with me. There was one young and rather pretty teacher in particular who seemed to be trying to get his attention. He was polite and friendly, but showed no overt interest in her.

After about an hour, I felt claustrophobic. As much as I loved being in Nick's arms, the gym was too crowded, and a bit on the warm side.

"Do you mind if we go outside for a while?"

The music had changed from the canned romantic love songs that had been playing to the live band that had been late getting there—well actually they were right on time, but the dance was already in full swing having begun earlier than planned—and I had to practically yell in his ear for him to hear me.

"Please," Nick pleaded.

Taking his hand, I led him out through a side door that someone had propped open in the hopes that it would allow more air circulation; I could have told them it wasn't working.

My steps, automatically conditioned to move towards the track, ended up at the metal bleachers surrounding it.

We found a breezy place to sit, and both sighed in relief.

"This is much better."

"Thank you," I said gratefully, "For the dance, the corsage, being a perfect gentleman...everything."

"It's my pleasure."

"I appreciate you saying that," I smiled at him, "whether it's true or not."

"I don't lie, CeeCee," Nick said gravely, "I have enjoyed being here with you tonight."

"I'm sorry I've been...rotten to you since we met," I had to get it off my chest, especially since I didn't know when I would see him again. "I know it's no excuse, but I'm not very good at dealing with...things."

Darn tears. They were pooling in my eyes again. I fought them back. Nick probably already thought me no better than a leaky faucet.

Reaching over to take my hand Nick said, "You've had a rough time the past few years, and you take things harder than most people because you care so much. Mark says you get your intensity from your father."

"And my temper from my mother," I said in resignation. "Apparently I am quite the combo."

"This last month's been good for you."

I glanced at him in surprise, wondering how he knew that.

He laughed and said, "I keep up with you through Mark, and I can tell you're very different than you were the last time I saw you."

"I made a list of things I could do that would make me a better person," I admitted sheepishly.

"Ah, yes, Mark told me about your propensity for making lists," Nick laughed. "It must work for you. You've grown up a lot in two months."

"I've been trying to," I sighed, "But it's pretty painful at times."

"Growing up always is," Nick agreed.

"Do you think...?" I broke off, wanting to ask, but afraid of the response I might get.

"Do I think...what?"

"I just wondered if...well...since I'm..."

Nick watched me intently, patiently waiting for me to finish.

"Could we be friends?" I finally blurted out.

Nick looked thoughtful for a moment and then turned to face me.

Looking straight into my eyes he replied, "I would very much like to be your friend, CeeCee."

I couldn't tear my eyes away from his. I knew he meant it. I smiled tremulously...it was a start.

Gathering my wits about me I asked, "When do you have to go back?"

"Tonight," he replied lightly.

"Tonight?"

"Mark's not here, it's just you and your mother," Nick explained. "I don't think it would be appropriate for me to stay the night."

"You're right," I admitted adding grudgingly "As usual."

Nick laughed, and I said defensively, "You try hanging around someone who's always right; it's exasperating."

"Sorry," Nick said unrepentantly, "one of these days I'm sure you'll be right and I'll be wrong," he added soothingly "and then you can stick you're tongue out and say 'so there'."

I elbowed him in the ribs and accused rudely, "Patronizer."

"Ow," he rubbed his rub tenderly, faking pain. "This is where you become striking, right?"

"Right," I growled then continued more seriously. "If you're driving home tonight, you should leave soon. I wouldn't want you to fall asleep at the wheel."

"Are you sure you're ready to go home?"

"I've had enough school dance to last a lifetime," I assured him. "I made an appearance, so I'm good."

I wasn't about to admit that I wasn't ready to go home because it meant he would be leaving and I desperately wished he could stay. Truly, I wanted him to be safe more than anything. The idea of being friends with him tantalized me, and I didn't want to lose that chance before we'd even begun.

Once we got to the house, he produced a key, let us in, and went to check the house to make sure it was safe.

He had Mark's key; that explained why he was already in the house by the time I got downstairs. I felt sure he'd rung the doorbell in order to get me to come downstairs without his having to come up, knowing we were alone in the house.

My respect for him grew.

Nick came back from his inspection, satisfied that the house was fine. I was unsure what to do next, but Nick had no such problem. He came straight over to me, pulled me into his arms, and held me there for a few minutes. As he released me, his lips brushed my cheek.

Neither of us said anything as I followed him to the front door in order to lock it behind him. From the living room window, I watched him get into his parents' car and drive away.

Chapter 20

Dear Diary,

Something's up with Mark.

CeeCee

Mark was impossible to reach the week after the dance. I left messages on his voice mail a couple of times, but no response. I would have been worried sick if Nick hadn't answered Mark's phone on Tuesday night. Mark had forgotten it again.

"Hey CeeCee," Nick must have noticed my name on Mark's caller ID.

"Hi Nick," I replied happily, glad we were on friendly terms, "I haven't heard from Mark in days, is everything okay there?"

"Mark's fine," Nick answered cautiously, "just busy. I haven't seen him much myself."

"Is he working different hours or something?"

I was confused. Mom told me Mark was working fewer hours so I couldn't imagine him working so late at night.

"No," Nick hedged, "he's not at work."

"But you're not going to tell me where he is," I stated matter-of-factly.

"I would, CeeCee, but Mark is planning on telling you and your mother himself."

"Could you leave him a message, since I'm not sure my voice mails are getting to him?" I asked with a touch of resentment in my voice.

I was trying hard not to feel that way, but it was a struggle.

Mark has no right to do this to me without at least letting me know that calling him is a waste of time, I fumed, hating the feeling that I was nothing but a pest.

"Sure," Nick assured me, "I will personally deliver the message."

I was silent for a few minutes, trying to think of what to say without coming off as the selfish spoiled brat Nick had once accused me of being. Nick waited patiently, understanding that I wanted to be careful with my wording.

"Just tell him to call me when he wants to talk," I said finally, deciding that the least said the better.

"Do I take that to mean you won't be calling him in the evenings?" Nick asked carefully.

Hearing Nick actually putting my unspoken thought into words brought a lump to my throat. I always knew that someday things would change, that Mark might no longer have time for me...I just hadn't expected it to be so soon. I guess I should have, he was about to graduate from college and begin life as an adult, so it made sense.

The thought that we were already growing apart saddened me. We had just begun to feel close again.

"CeeCee, are you okay?" Nick asked anxiously when he got no reply.

"I have to go," I whispered hurriedly and hung up before I started blubbering in his ear.

I tried to stem the flow of tears that filled my eyes and quiet the sobs that rose up into my throat, but I couldn't.

A few deep breaths later, my cell rang. It was Nick, of course, calling from his own phone. I debated about answering, but knew I owed it to him to pick up.

"Hi," was all I could get out.

"CeeCee," Nick said gently, "You don't have to hide your tears from me."

"I...I'm...sorry."

I was doing the crying hiccupping thing that I hated so much because it always made me feel like such a baby.

"I have an idea that might help."

"R...r...really...?"

"Yes really."

I could hear the slight amusement in his voice and it was so familiar, so Nick, that I was able to breathe again. Ironically, it used to anger me.

"I'm sorry," I said again in a stronger voice. "I know I'm being a baby about this, but I just miss talking to him so much."

"I understand," Nick reassured me, "I know Mark plans to tell you what's going on, but he hasn't...gotten around to it."

I could tell by the hesitation in Nick's voice that he agreed with my earlier assessment that Mark owed it to me to tell me something. That alone, knowing that Nick didn't blame me for being so upset, was enough to make me feel better.

He continued, "But until he does, why don't you call me in the evenings."

"I don't want to bother you."

I would love to bother him, but I didn't want to be more of a pest than I could help.

"I'll be fine," I said firmly.

"We're friends now, aren't we?" Nick asked reasonably. "I know it won't be the same as talking to Mark, but I can reassure you that everything is fine here, and you can reassure me that everything is fine there. Somebody needs to see that you make it home safely every night."

"Nick, I appreciate the offer, but you don't have to do this," I tried to sound like I meant it. "I'll be fine, really."

"If you don't call me then I guess I'll have to resort to calling you each night," Nick warned.

"Well, we wouldn't want that now would we," I replied lightly.

Funny how it was the bracelet thing all over again; I wanted him to call me, but I didn't want him to think I wanted him to call me. Could I be more confusing?

"Mark said he programmed my number into your cell, so all you have to do is remember to call mine instead of his," Nick said easily.

"Okay," I capitulated, "as long as you are sure you don't mind."

"CeeCee," he said sternly.

"Alright," I knew that voice, "I'll call, and thank you."

"You're welcome," he returned simply, "now...go to bed. Five-thirty comes early."

"Yes sir, will there be anything else, sir?"

I would have saluted but he couldn't see me.

I heard the laughter in his voice as he said "Just one more thing. Sleep well, CeeCee."

Although I missed Mark terribly, it was wonderful to be able to talk to Nick every evening.

There was so much I wanted to know about him...like what he did during the day. When he told me that he was actually treating animals, I jumped on that and continued with questions about what types of animals he treated.

"Right now I'm working mostly with pets, like dogs, cats, and even an occasional snake."

"A snake," I repeated in wonder. "You actually treat snakes? What if they bite you?" I asked suddenly horrified at his career choice.

"Actually, the one I worked on last week was a boa constrictor," I could hear the smile in his voice "Strictly non-poisonous."

"A boa constrictor!" I exclaimed. "Oh yeah I can see how that would be so much better." I continued sarcastically, "Sounds much more fun to get squeezed to death by a giant snake than to be poisoned by a smaller one."

"It wasn't a giant snake," Nick replied mildly, "This one was only eight feet long."

"Only eight feet..." I said in amazement, "You should get hazard pay. I didn't even know they taught you how to treat snakes in vet school."

"They don't spend a lot of time on it," he admitted, "but it is covered. Snakes are very popular pets, although I have to own up that in order to treat the boa I had to do a little research."

I laughed and asked, "How do you research treating a snake? Google...?"

"You would be surprised," he laughed with me.

"So what was wrong with it?" I asked curious in spite of myself.

I had three horrible phobias, and snakes topped the list.

"Believe it or not, the snake had a cold," he replied in amusement.

"You're kidding me...right?"

"Serious as a heart attack."

"How do you treat a snake cold?"

"Well, in this case they simply needed to keep the snake in a warmer place," he explained. "The people were keeping their house temperature in the 70 degree range and the boa needed a toastier environment. Boas tend more towards the eighties."

"Wow...so how's the snake doing now?"

"According to the follow up phone call, cold's all gone."

"So do you actually like snakes?"

"They're not my favorite," I could hear the shrug in his voice, "but I don't mind them."

"What is your favorite animal? "Do you have one?"

"Hang on, CeeCee," Nick stopped me. "If you're going to bombard me with questions, you have to answer some, too."

"But you know everything there is to know about me," I objected.

"No, I don't," Nick contradicted. "I know very little about your childhood."

"It's not that interesting," I assured him. "You've lived so much longer I'm sure your life's story is way more exciting than mine."

I was amazed that I could tease him so easily about the difference in our ages when it usually pained me to think about it.

"And you will pay for that remark when I see you next," Nick threatened.

"I'm scared," I replied feigning fright.

We both laughed, and I agreed to answer one question for each one he answered.

Over the next few days, I was able to find out about his family and discovered that he was one of four children, all boys.

Nick laughed when I commented on how sorry I felt for his mother assuring me that she was more than capable of taking care of herself. One of his brothers, Daniel, had actually introduced Mark and Nick during one of Mark's first summers in Austin, having met through a common interest in karate, and had taken an instant liking to each other.

Daniel, like Nick, attended Texas A&M so he was gone during the school year, but Mark and Daniel hung around together during summers and holidays.

Because Nick was finishing up his fourth and last year of Vet school doing his clinical rotations in the Austin area, he was able to move back to Austin. He found an apartment and decided to take Mark on as a roommate once Daniel explained to him that Mark was being kicked out because one of the other guys had a brother beginning UT that fall and they needed Mark's room for him.

David and Josh, Nick's other brothers, were identical twins and had just turned sixteen.

"So why do all your brothers have Bible names?" I asked curiously. "Was that a coincidence?"

There was silence for a few minutes, and I wondered if we had somehow lost our connection, assuming Nick was in his car and had no reception.

"Nick, are you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here," he replied heavily.

"What's wrong?" I asked anxiously. "Did I say something?"

Frantically replaying the last few minutes of our conversation, I couldn't think of anything I'd said that would cause that type of reaction.

"No," Nick replied reluctantly, "You didn't. My parents did use Bible names for all of us."

"All of you?" I asked in puzzlement. "I don't remember a Nicholas in the Bible."

"That's because there isn't one," he admitted. "My given name is really...Nicodemus."

"I see," I said, trying not to jump for joy.

For the first time ever, I realized that I wasn't the only person in the world who hated their given name—something we had in common—and I was thrilled, to put it mildly.

"If I hear a laugh or even a chuckle," he threatened, "I will hunt you down like a rabid dog and make you pay."

"Okay, listen to me and listen very carefully; there is no possible way that someone whose name is Elsee Caitrin would ever laugh at anyone else's name."

"Elsee Caitrin?" he asked incredulously, "how did you manage to extract CeeCee from Elsee Caitrin?"

"The last syllable of Elsee and my middle initial," I replied automatically, "You didn't know my full name?" I asked suspiciously.

"It never came up."

"Well, I'll make a deal with you," I said playfully, "You keep my secret and I'll keep yours."

"And no laughing," Nick added in warning.

"Of course not," I replied, and ironically we both laughed.

"Why Nicodemus...?" I asked curiously. "Surely there were other Bible names they could have chosen."

"More normal ones you mean," Nick commented sourly.

"Okay 'normal' then," I conceded.

"Apparently, my mom was a big Sir Laurence Olivier fan and he played Nicodemus in some movie or series or something," Nick said in disgust. "She was eating chocolate, her one pregnant craving, and watching him on TV when she went into labor. She had a hard labor, high blood pressure and all of that, and was still on muscle relaxants, not fully awake when they came in to ask for my name in order to put it on the birth certificate. She mumbled 'Nicodemus' and when they asked for my middle name, she said something about "Ask Jonathan," but all they heard was the Jonathan part. My dad was with me in the nursery and didn't know anything about it. They put Nicodemus Jonathan Barrett on my birth certificate. My dad has never let her live it down, the fact that she was dreaming of Olivier first and him second after the birth of their first child. I couldn't very well be called Jonathan, too confusing what with it being my dad's name, so Dad considerately shortened my name to Nick." He paused then asked, "So how did you get your name?"

"My mother decided to name me after my dad's mother," I replied. "Mom actually met her before she met my dad and loved her dearly, but she died right before I was born so I never knew her."

"Well at least your parents had a good reason for your name," Nick said morosely.

"That didn't help when the other kids starting calling me Elsie the Cow," I said lightly.

I couldn't believe I was actually joking about my name; that was a first.

"Okay you win," Nick teased, "Yours is worse."

"Gee thanks."

"My pleasure."

Nick spent most of his question time asking me about my childhood. I had no idea why he thought it was such a fascinating topic, but it was very possible that he didn't want to know anything about me and was just grasping at straws to be polite.

Sometimes I cried when a sudden memory made me think of Dad, while at other times I expected it and could skirt around the emotional parts.

Nick was always patient with me, and refused to let me hang up, saying he would just call me right back until I answered. Eventually I'd regain control, and we'd continue.

He laughed at my diary/diarrhea episode, commiserated with me on my lack of a pet, and somehow managed to extract just about every story I had worked so hard over the years to keep hidden out of me; even the Serena one, which I'd never told anyone.

Most of our conversations became lopsided, with me answering more questions than I asked, but I never realized it until after we hung up. Nick had a way of pulling information out of me whether I wanted him to or not.

The Friday night before the District cross-country meet, I was extremely nervous, and had a hard time concentrating on our conversation. Nick suggested we cut it short, understanding that I was having difficulty pulling my thoughts together. He wished me luck, I thanked him, and we hung up.

Normally, I was very careful not to daydream about Nick, knowing that it was highly unlikely that anything would develop from our friendship and not wanting to build myself up for disappointment, but I needed something to distract me from my nervous dread of the meet the next day. I was practically shaking. My junior year, I'd been in so much pain from my feet that I hadn't given it much thought, but I had no such distraction as I lay awake full of questions.

What if I'm still not good enough? What if I'm just as bad as last year, but this time I have no excuse? How important is all of this to me?

Self-doubt filled my mind. I wanted to quit. Running had always been fun for me, but suddenly it was just plain scary.

Deciding that I would never get to sleep with all of the things running through my mind—I laughed to myself at my unintentional pun—I lay on my bed, closed my eyes, and allowed myself to think about Nick.

I began imagining what it would feel like for Nick to really kiss me, like he meant it.

He would look deeply into my eyes, pulling me gently toward him. I would put my arms around his neck as I had when we were at the dance, and run my fingers through his beautifully casual sandy brown hair...I'd always wanted to do that. Our lips would meet and...and... rats!

I had no idea what would happen then, with no experience to draw from, and not being much of a TV/movie watcher. Even though I'd read a lot of books, trying to picture that only took me so far.

The dance—that was it—I would replay the dance in my head. I could recreate the feelings that Nick I'd had that night and enjoy them again. I sighed in relief...that would work.

Closing my eyes as a contented smile touched my lips, I fell asleep dancing the night away in Nick's arms.

Chapter 21

Dear Diary,

Mark's got a girlfriend.

CeeCee

Not only did I win district, I beat everyone by at least ten seconds. I was the only one that came in under eleven minutes. Granted, it was barely under, but still...it was an amazing rush.

The best part was Nick waiting for me at the finish line. I couldn't believe he had driven over six hours round trip just to see me run a race that hadn't even lasted eleven minutes, well at least for me it hadn't.

As soon as I was free, I ran over and practically jumped into his arms, totally oblivious to the fact that I was sweating like a horse—I managed to keep my animals straight—and probably smelled worse. He swung me around a couple of times before setting me back down on the ground.

Even though he couldn't stay long, it was incredible having him there. I talked a mile a minute, which was quite unusual for me, and he listened with at least pretended interest, for which I was eternally grateful. It was going to take me some time to come down from the high I was riding.

Right before he left, he reminded me to call him later.

My embarrassment that night as I recalled my behavior after the race had me doubting whether I'd be able to call him. I was actually holding the phone in my hand, debate raging in my head, when it rang. It was Nick.

"Hi," I said in a subdued voice.

"Hmm..." Nick's voice was thoughtful, "I must have the wrong number. No way that's the same girl as the one I saw earlier today."

"Nick..." I began contritely "about that..."

"Don't you dare apologize," Nick said sternly. "I suspected you'd react like this. You weren't going to call me were you?"

"I...was...thinking about it," I admitted in a whisper.

"I told you to call me."

"I know but..."

"No 'buts', CeeCee," he interrupted. "I've known you now...what...about three months, and I've never seen you as excited as I did today. You needed that, and I'm just glad I was there to see it. You were amazing. Don't apologize for being pumped. I was pumped for you."

"Really...?" I asked uncertainly

"Really," he assured me firmly.

"Thanks for coming," I had to force sound around the lump in my throat that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Maybe he wouldn't notice. "It meant a lot to me that you were there."

"You're welcome," he replied simply. "Now get some rest, you sound tired. It's been a busy day."

"Yes sir," I said smartly "anything else, sir."

I could hear the amusement in his voice as he responded with "Just one more thing."

"Whatever you say, sir," I said, determined to keep the mood light.

"Sleep well, CeeCee."

It was the same thing he said at the end of every one of our nightly calls in the same soft, smooth, sexy, incredibly heart-stopping tone, which always managed to send shivers up and down my spine.

"Night," I replied unoriginally, my mind in its usual incoherent state after hearing my name spoken in what I always thought of as his 'bedroom voice'.

I blushed every time I thought those words, but I couldn't stifle them. I'd heard them used in one of the Agent Jack Knight movies—they must have been added in the movie for effect since they weren't in any of the books I'd read up to that point—and those words popped into my head the first time he'd said that to me and stubbornly refused to leave.

Especially since he'd admitted once that he'd been lying on his bed reading a fairly interesting book right before I'd called and, from that moment on, I'd pictured him that way during every phone call.

Of course I made sure to picture him fully clothed, unlike the woman whose voice Jack Knight had used that phrase to describe when he had discovered her naked in his bed, waiting for him. That one hadn't turned out so well, since she'd apparently been waiting around to kill him.

Still, I liked the phrase, despite the extreme embarrassment I would have felt if anyone else ever found out, which I fully intended to make sure never happened.

The next week passed in a blur of homework, weight training, running, and phone calls. Felicia understood that I was concentrating on extra workouts, and adjusted her schedule in order to help me out.

I ran in the mornings, got in some extra weight training at lunch and after school, bummed a ride home with Felicia so we could finish our homework together, ate supper, digested for an hour or so, and took off running again.

Although I still had no idea what was going on with Mark, my phone calls to Nick made that a whole lot easier.

I was a little afraid that by the time Mark finally decided to talk to me about what was going on with him, I would be so angry I wouldn't listen. I hoped not, but I had a rotten, unpredictable temper.

The Regional cross-country meet, the weekend after the District meet, was in the Lubbock area. The team left town early on Friday morning in order to have time to check into a hotel and familiarize ourselves with the course before the race.

Sleeping in an unfamiliar bed in a hotel full of noisy high school girls was not the best way to get a good night's rest before an important race, but I took my handheld and earplugs and managed to get some sleep. I finished the race in just under eleven minutes again, less than one second in front of the second place girl. I was ecstatic.

And there was Nick, waiting for me at the finish line. I'd been afraid to hope, desperately wanting him to be there, but knowing it was a long way to come for one race. Once again, I couldn't stop from throwing myself into his arms.

He didn't seem to mind the sweat that was pouring off of me, and I was on such a high I didn't think it was possible to bring me down.

I was wrong.

The next week, I worked even harder, determined to do well at the State Meet. I was confident that Nick would be there for that one, since it was at Round Rock just north of Austin, but I warned him that he would have to not only pay five dollars to park at the Dell Diamond, but had to pay an extra five dollars to get in to watch the race. Thankfully, that didn't faze him, and he promised he would be there.

Despite Mark's silence, I hoped that he would make it too, knowing how important it was to me.

Mom felt guilty about not coming to any of my meets, but I understood. Being the head football coach in a small town, Dad had also been in charge of the high school track team, and my mom had never missed one of Dad's events, but my meets were just too similar and it was too soon for her to be able to handle it.

One of my main goals in life was to cause Mom as little pain as humanly possible, having done enough of that already, so I made sure she understood that it was no big deal and I was fine with whatever she needed to do.

Coach Miller and I left for Round Rock on Friday morning. Since I was the only one that had made it to State, it was just us.

The plan was to get there, eat lunch, check into the hotel, and then run the course sometime after two-thirty. After that, I had my own plans.

Beyond tired of waiting on Mark's agenda, I decided to make something happen.

Because Mom felt so badly about missing my meets, she'd given me quite a bit of money for each trip, just in case I needed something. I'd saved it with no real purpose in mind, thinking I might need it for later.

It was 'later'.

After I won the Regional meet, a plan began slowly evolving in my mind and I meant to act on it.

Knowing I would be so close to Austin, I had to see Mark. From his lack of response, I suspected he wouldn't even try to make it to my meet and since simply thinking about Mark was beginning to cause my stomach to tie up in knots, I needed to find out what was going on.

If Muhammad wouldn't come to the mountain...

Using the internet, I looked up how much a cab would cost to get me from Round Rock to Mark's apartment...a hundred dollars round trip including a tip.

Mom had given me twenty-five dollars for District and fifty dollars for Regional so I was expecting fifty for State. She didn't disappoint; in fact, she handed over seventy-five dollars for State. I was glad to have a little extra. I wasn't sure how much to tip a cab, but I didn't want to be short.

Since Coach Miller would have to find somewhere to eat supper, I'd decided that was when I would make my move.

After running through the course at Old Settlers, I asked Coach Miller if we could stop at a fast food drive-thru somewhere in Round Rock. I was hungry, but more importantly I didn't want to have to accompany her to supper.

She was more than willing to get me whatever I wanted with the school footing the bill for my food. I ordered a hamburger meal with a chocolate shake figuring that would keep me until breakfast. Coach Miller was a health food nut so I was fairly certain I could count on her to go out to eat. I'd finished everything but the shake by the time she dropped me off at the motel and saw me into my room safely before driving off.

Getting out my cell phone, I called the cab company number I'd found on the internet—the number already saved in my phone—and ordered a cab. They told me it would be about twenty minutes so, having no time to waste, I grabbed a quick shower and changed into clean jeans and a blouse. By the time the cab showed up, I was ready...albeit a bit nervous. However, I wasn't about to chicken out.

According to Nick, Mark still worked in the afternoons and usually made it back to the apartment around 5:30 or so for a quick shower before heading out to wherever it was that he spent most of his time. I arrived in plenty of time and, as no one was home when I knocked on the door, I sat down to wait.

I didn't have to wait long. A little after half past I heard voices...one of them Mark's and the other a woman's voice I didn't recognize. The woman was talking as they came around the corner.

"Stop it, Mark," the voice commanded, "You know I don't like you touching me when you've been working."

I could hear the distaste in her voice when she said the last word.

"Sorry, Laticia," Mark sounded resigned, "It won't take me long to shower."

"Good," Laticia said smugly, "Mummy and Daddy are meeting us at the club for supper before the concert, and I don't want to be late."

At that point, I fully expected Mark to say "Yes, Dear" from the henpecked way he was acting, but he noticed me before he had a chance to answer.

"CeeCee," he gasped in surprise, "What are you doing here?"

"CeeCee...?" Laticia asked eyeing me in displeasure "your sister? What is she doing here?"

She turned to look at Mark, ignoring me.

I could see why Mark hadn't wanted to tell us what he'd been up to...he'd obviously been trying to hide the fact that he was dating the snob of the century. He knew Mom would never approve. She'd made it perfectly clear over the years how much she hated snobs.

"CeeCee...?" Mark repeated, prompting me to answer.

"Since I was in the neighborhood..."

I left it hanging there.

"In the neighborhood...?"

Mark's face was a blank.

"The State cross-country meet tomorrow...?"

I made it a question, basically asking him if he remembered. I knew for a fact that Nick had told him in person, even if he hadn't gotten any of my voice mails.

"Is that tomorrow?"

The guy standing in front of me was not the Mark I knew. He looked...shell-shocked was the only word I could use to describe his expression.

"So I decided to drop by to see you while I had the chance," I added lightly.

Laticia's eyes sent daggers my way and my heart sank. She was nothing like the type of girlfriend I had always pictured for Mark.

There was no doubt she was absolutely gorgeous. The type of gorgeous in fashion magazines. Long thick, wavy black hair and matching black eyes under perfectly shaped eyebrows surrounded by luscious, dark eyelashes, accompanied by full red pouty lips, a curvy hourglass figure incased in a bright red halter top dress showing off her beautifully tanned skin. She looked like a model even though she was extremely small—barely five feet tall, making me feel like Bigfoot in jeans—but she was cold and hard.

There had to be something good about her because the Mark I'd always known would never fall for anyone that didn't have some redeeming quality besides just beauty. Whoa! My thoughts ground to a halt for a moment as I realized that I'd just admitted that beauty was not as important as other things. Wow...I was changing.

Mark unlocked the door to his apartment while I pondered my revelation. I was pretty proud of myself, truth be told.

"Um...CeeCee, why don't you and Laticia get to know each other while I take my shower," Mark suggested.

I was about to answer when Laticia turned to Mark with her million dollar smile and said soothingly, "What a good idea." She gave Mark a peck on the check and said in a sultry whisper, "Don't be long, Darling."

I'd always wondered about that phrase whenever I'd read it in a book, how a sultry whisper actually sounded; I didn't have to wonder any longer.

The puppy dog look on Mark's face turned my stomach. I thought I was about to taste my meal again, and I figured it was a pretty safe bet that it wouldn't look or taste nearly as good the second time around. Picturing it landing on Laticia's obviously expensive leather shoes had me smiling, though.

Laticia's eyes followed him as he left the room. He got his things together in the bedroom and then waved as he ducked into the bathroom. She didn't turn around to face me until we heard the shower running. Our conversation wasn't going to be pleasant, I could tell by the look on her face.

"You should have stayed away," she hissed at me.

Aha! That's what she reminds me of, a poisonous snake waiting to strike.

I wondered idly whether Nick had a book on how to handle those types of creatures.

"Mark is my brother," I replied as calmly as I could, "It's only natural that I would visit him."

"If Mark wanted anything to do with you, he would have returned your voice mails," Laticia countered.

Something about the way she said that...

"If he ever got them," I suggested suspiciously, eyeing her carefully.

Her reaction was all I could have hoped for...I was sure Mark hadn't gotten any of my voice mails. Not that the Mark I'd just met would have returned them if she told him not to, so that was probably irrelevant.

"You have no idea who you're messing with," she returned viciously. "Mark belongs to me now, and I do not plan on sharing him. Fight me and you will lose."

"Mark will have something to say about that," I replied vehemently. "You aren't going to get away with this."

Not very original, CeeCee, I scolded myself, corny even...with a side of melodrama.

Although I knew I'd come off sounding a lot like a line in one of the low budget films Felicia loved, it was all I could come up with on such short notice. I sincerely hoped I was right about Mark, that he wouldn't back her up, but I had my doubts. By the look on his face, she had him wrapped around her little finger...tightly.

She must have agreed with my silent assessment because she just laughed heartlessly and said, "Let him know I'll be waiting in the car." Turning back as she reached the door, she looked me up and down distastefully and added, "I'm sure you won't keep him long."

As soon as she left, I sank into the nearest chair, drained. I heard the shower stop and a few minutes later Mark came out, his blonde hair still damp from the shower, dressed in what looked like a very expensive suit. I gaped at him.

Glancing around the room he asked, "Where's Laticia?"

It was disheartening. I hadn't seen Mark in months, but all he cared about was Laticia.

"In the car."

"It's good to see you, CeeCee."

"Is it?" I asked disbelievingly. "Excuse me if I find that a little hard to believe."

"I'm sorry I haven't called, but I've been busy," Mark said defensively.

"Too busy to return even one of my phone calls...?" I asked bitterly.

"What calls?" he asked "You stopped calling me."

"I did not," I denied hotly. "I called every night until Nick finally answered because you'd left your phone plugged into the wall charging. I left tons of voice mails asking you to call me back."

"Look CeeCee, we're both busy so it's okay if you're too busy to call me," he sounded...patronizing. I didn't have to wonder where he'd learned that from. He continued, "But please don't lie to me and make out that it's my fault we haven't talked."

"I'm not lying," I denied furiously. "Your girlfriend has obviously been deleting your voice mails."

"Come on, CeeCee, that's ridiculous. What reason would she have to do that?"

"Oh, I don't know," I answered sarcastically "Maybe because she doesn't like me and wants me out of your life."

"Give her a chance," Mark replied testily, "You've only met her once."

"And if she has her way, it won't happen again," I muttered.

"CeeCee," Mark remonstrated, "There is no need for you to feel jealous or threatened."

"That's what you think this is?" I asked incredulously. "You think I'm jealous?"

"Laticia said you would feel that way."

"Laticia did, did she? And did Laticia also tell you that she was planning to tell me to stay away from you?"

"You must have misunderstood her," Mark said dismissively.

"Oh it's pretty hard to misunderstand the phrase 'Stay away from him' even for someone as stupid as I obviously am," I retorted.

"You know, she said you'd react like this, but I didn't believe her," Mark said angrily. "I guess she understands you better than I do."

"Oh, she understands alright," I agreed sardonically. "She is a manipulator and obviously very good at it."

"She is not manipulating me. I love her and I'm going to marry her. You can either accept that or stay out of my life."

Mark slammed out of the apartment.

I sat there frozen for a long time, waiting for him to come back, but eventually I had to admit he was gone...literally and figuratively. Laticia had won. I hadn't even put up much of a fight, had actually played right into her hands. I was in way over my head, going up against a pro. She'd anticipated everything I said and even fed me some of the lines. Mark had been primed and ready.

I'd lost so much already, it just didn't seem fair that I was going to lose Mark, too. The most frustrating part was that I knew Mark would never be happy with that witch. The wicked witch of the west...actually southwest would be more accurate. I tried to laugh, but it hurt and turned into a sob. One sob quickly followed another until I was crying in earnest.

"CeeCee...?"

I'd been crying so hard, I hadn't even heard Nick come in. He pulled me out of the chair and forced me to meet his eyes.

"What's wrong? Why are you here? Are you hurt?"

I couldn't stop crying. All I could do was shake my head. Nick pulled me close and held me until I had cried myself out.

"Better?"

I nodded and he released me.

"Sorry," I sniffled. "I always seem to use your shirt as a tissue."

"I don't mind," Nick smiled.

"I met Laticia."

Nick stopped smiling.

"I should have never promised Mark I wouldn't tell you," Nick muttered angrily raking his fingers through his hair. "I didn't think he would let it go this long. I'm so sorry you had to find out this way."

"It doesn't matter," I said dully. "The timing is irrelevant."

"What do you mean?" Nick asked narrowing his eyes.

"Why bother?" I shrugged, talking more to myself than Nick. "I need to get back to the motel."

I reached in my backpack for my cell phone.

"You're not leaving here until I get the whole story," Nick said gently taking the cell phone from me and leading me over to the couch. "Start at the beginning and don't leave anything out."

"Nick..."

"From the beginning, CeeCee," he reiterated firmly. "How did you get here? Did Mark pick you up?"

I knew he wasn't going to like the part about the cab, and I was right.

"You did WHAT?" Nick exploded.

"I called a reputable cab company," I said defensively.

Nick took a couple of very deep breaths and seemed somewhat calmer. so I continued with my story leaving nothing out. When I got to the end where Mark stormed out, I felt the tears threatening again.

Somewhere in the middle of the story, Nick had taken both of my hands in his and was absentmindedly stroking the back of my hands with his thumbs. I was grateful for the distraction as it took my mind in another direction temporarily.

"So he didn't believe you."

"With my track record, do you blame him?"

"Are you jealous?"

"No!" I was adamant about that. "I've always wanted a sister, that's why Felicia and I are so close. I even hoped that she and Mark..." I had such a feeling of loss, but I wasn't sure if I would be able to explain it. "I know it was selfish on my part to expect Mark to marry someone who would see me as a sister, but mostly I just want him to be happy. I could stand losing him if I thought he would be truly happy, but she's not interested in his happiness."

I was a hundred percent positive about that if nothing else.

"I have to admit that I only met her once so I have nothing to base any personal observations on, but..." Nick began.

"You don't believe me either," I interrupted trying to pull away from him.

Inexplicably his doubt hurt even more than Mark's had.

"CeeCee, stop," Nick demanded tightening his grip on my hands. "I believe everything you've told me."

"You do?" I asked in amazement. "Why?"

Nick chuckled and asked, "Is there some reason I shouldn't believe you?"

"No, I just didn't expect..."

I stopped abruptly. I suppose it was part of my make up that kept me from thinking anyone would believe me over someone else. I mean, why should they? Had I ever done anything that inspired trust and confidence?

"CeeCee, I trust you."

"Thank you," I whispered tearfully.

"You're welcome, and now we need to get you back to the motel before your coach finds out you're gone and has a heart attack," Nick said getting up and pulling me with him. "No more cabs," he ordered.

"Okay," I consciously pulled myself together and readily agreed, "No more cabs."

He drove me back to the motel and walked me to my room. I didn't see the coach's car in the parking lot so she hadn't returned, thank goodness. Our rooms were right next to each other with a connecting door, so it would have been highly unlikely that my little adventure would have gone unnoticed otherwise.

Nick insisted that I give him my room card, checked my room to make sure it was safe, and then handed it back to me. It was nice to have someone taking care of me.

"Try to behave yourself for the rest of the night," Nick teased. "You do have a race tomorrow."

"Thanks for everything Nick," putting my hands on his shoulder, I reached up and kissed him on the cheek.

Pulling me into a gentle hug he murmured, "Sleep well, CeeCee" in my ear, released me, and was gone.

I closed the door, locked and bolted it, and peeked out the window just in time to see his pickup pulling out of the lot. I watched until it was out of sight then let the curtain drop.

~ * * ~

My race was at 1:20 the next day, but I had to be there an hour before the race started in order to pick up my timing chip. Once that was done, I stretched some more and tried to find some energy.

My lack of sleep the night before was telling on me. Suddenly running was such an effort I didn't know if I could do it.

Against my will, I had replayed the scene with Mark over and over in my head all night, I couldn't help it, and I remembered seeing three o'clock, hopelessly wondering if the night was ever going to end. I wasn't sure what time I finally fell asleep, but I woke at six feeling like I hadn't slept at all.

At 1:20 on the dot, the gun went off, and I mechanically began running, but somehow I got tripped from behind before we'd gone very far.

If I had been more alert, I might have been able to save myself from falling or at least been able to compensate and keep my injuries to a minimum but, as it was, my reactions were so sluggish that I flew forward landing almost flat out on the ground.

I heard the gun go off again, signaling the runners back to the start, and realized that we hadn't even gone 100 meters.

I felt hands turning me over and heard Coach Miller asking me if I was all right. I was a little dazed—whether from the fall or my sleepless night I didn't know—and had trouble concentrating enough to form an answer.

I sat up and examined myself cautiously. Although I was dirty, my right arm bleeding at the elbow—it seemed to have taken the brunt of the landing—and my right knee scraped up, overall it didn't look too bad. I thought I'd still be able to race.

Hands reached down to help me up and that was when the pain hit. My ankle...I couldn't put any pressure on my ankle. I cried out and suddenly Nick was there gently lowering me back down to the ground. I hadn't seen him arrive.

After that, I had to wait until the standby ambulance arrived to move me, not yet sure if my ankle was broken or just sprained. I heard the restarting of the race from the back of the ambulance, lying on a gurney, foot elevated and totally obscured by all the ice packs attached to it.

I couldn't bring myself to care.

Nick and Coach Miller were arguing somewhere close by, and I strained to hear. Even though they were talking in low tones and I couldn't make out what they were saying, I was pretty sure it was about me.

"Nick?" I called out anxiously.

He hopped up into the ambulance, squatting down next to me.

"How're you feeling?"

"What are you and Coach Miller arguing about?"

"Nothing you need..."

"It's about me and I have a right to know."

"You do," Nick sighed heavily, "Let me go get your coach."

He left and returned in less than a minute with Coach Miller.

"How's the ankle?"

"Not too bad," I answered. "Sorry about the race," I said apologetically, "The girl behind me must have accidentally tripped me."

"Right, accidentally," Coach Miller said sarcastically.

"Coach," Nick warned. Turning to me Nick said, "Coach Miller wants to take you to the hospital emergency room to have your ankle x-rayed."

"NO!" I wanted to stay as far away from hospitals as I could. I added more calmly, "I'm sure it's not broken, just a bad sprain."

"But we shouldn't take any chances," the coach argued.

"I want to go home," I stated firmly. "Mom can take me to the emergency room there if I need to go."

"But..."

"I've had a sprain like this before and I know what it feels like," I interrupted her. "I am eighteen, I'll sign whatever you need me to sign, but I don't want to go to a hospital when I know it's just a sprain."

"What about your mom?" she asked still anxious.

"Hand me my back pack."

Before the race, I had given it to Coach Miller to hold for me.

She passed it to me and I pulled out my cell phone to call Mom's number. She answered immediately.

"CeeCee...how did the race go?"

"I sprained my ankle," I replied bluntly. "I need you to tell Coach Miller that it's okay for me to come home without having to get an x-ray here."

"Are you alright?" Mom asked anxiously.

"It feels just like last time, you remember, in junior high when I had that bad sprain," I assured her. "I do not want to go through what I had to go through with that one. Please don't make me."

I knew I shouldn't play on Mom's guilt, but I had no intention of going to the hospital emergency room. Mom had insisted on making a huge deal of my sprained ankle then, insisting it was broken, taking me for x-ray after x-ray until Dad finally put his foot down.

He'd known all along it was just a sprain, but Mom had panicked.

"I won't, I promise," Mom replied.

"Thanks...here...talk to Coach Miller," I handed her my phone. Coach Miller listened for a bit then said, "Okay, I understand. There's someone else here who wants to talk to you," she handed the phone over to Nick.

"Allison, I'll make sure CeeCee gets home alright if you can clear it with her coach," he listened for a bit then gave the phone back to Coach Miller.

I was getting dizzy. It was like watching a tennis match.

"No problem," Coach Miller said into the phone. "I'll call and check on her tomorrow. Bye."

The phone finally made its way back to me. I was a lot of trouble.

"If you'll find someone to let me in, I'll go get my pickup," Nick suggested.

"I'm on it," Coach replied and left.

"I'll be right back," Nick squeezed my hand and was gone.

Although it took some doing, and quite a bit of time, I finally found myself installed in Nick's front seat, leaned back as far as I could go, with my ice-wrapped foot elevated on the dashboard. Surprisingly, I was comfortable.

I knew it wouldn't be long before sleep took over, but there were some things I wanted to find out first. I waited until Nick had merged onto I35 before I bombarded him with questions.

"Does Coach Miller really think that girl tripped me on purpose?"

"Your coach could find a conspiracy at an Easter Egg Hunt," Nick replied in disgust. "The girl was just inexperienced and overeager. She was in tears over what happened."

"Poor thing," I commiserated with the absent girl.

"You don't seem that upset about not finishing the race," Nick commented frowning. "Why?"

I shrugged lethargically. "There are a lot worse things in the world. Speaking of which, have you talked to Mark since..."

I trailed off, too tired to think of a word to describe the previous day's fiasco.

"No, he was out late and still asleep when I left this morning," Nick admitted. "I'm not sure when I'll see him next, since he's stopped going to church."

"He's what?"

I was shocked; Mark always went to church. I was the horrid sinner full of doubts who had refused to darken the doorway of a church building for a whole year.

That scared me. It was official; she completely controlled him.

"I'm sorry I kept things from you," Nick apologized again. "He knows deep down there's something wrong with what he's doing or else he wouldn't have hid it from you and your mom for so long. I thought he would come around by now, but it seems I was wrong. I plan to quit treating him with kid gloves from now on."

"Nick," I said in alarm, "Don't alienate him. It won't help. He's apparently ready to give up everything and everybody for that...witch. He needs you."

"I can't condone his behavior, CeeCee."

"I know, just...don't attack Laticia. I think that's where I made my mistake."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Good."

Suddenly, I couldn't fight my tired and heavy eyelids any longer. The rest of my questions would just have to wait.

Chapter 22

Dear Diary,

Felicia is all I have left.

CeeCee

With the State meet behind me, I decided to concentrate on Felicia's birthday present. Although I couldn't top what she had done for me, I had an idea. I knew it would take some time, but with my sprained ankle preventing me from running, I had nothing but time.

For the first couple of days, I stayed up in my room, not wanting to navigate the stairs. I had been sound asleep when Nick and I arrived home the day of the meet, but Mom explained that Nick had carried me up the stairs and laid me on my bed. His poor back.

After that, I slept solidly until ten o'clock, totally missing church.

Mom let me out of going to school on Monday, and I spent the whole time up in my room, working on Felicia's birthday present. Felicia loved the Agent Jack Knight movies but, so far, only three of the eight books had been made into movies.

She was dying to find out what was going to happen in the other ones, but hated reading so much she absolutely refused to try one. My idea was to use my laptop—which had a built-in microphone and had come with a pretty cool software program—to record myself reading the fourth book on a blank CD for her to listen to whenever she had the chance.

Even though it was nothing like what she had done for my birthday, I couldn't think of anything else to do.

Felicia begged the question, "What do you get for the girl who literally has everything?"

I hoped she liked it.

By the time I got back to school, I could hobble around fairly well, but the only thing Coach Miller would let me do was lift weights. She wasn't going to allow me to begin running again until she was sure I wouldn't permanently injure my ankle. She was definitely thinking ahead to track season. After a few days, she insisted on taping my ankle every morning before school, she was the proverbial old mother hen, but I had to admit it helped.

Nick and I continued to talk in the evenings.

So far he hadn't seen Mark much—we both suspected he was avoiding Nick—and neither Mom nor I heard anything from him, but after explaining the situation to Mom, suitably edited of course, we all tacitly agreed to avoid the subject altogether.

I was thankful that Nick and Mom believed my side of the story without question.

Felicia's birthday fell on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving and her parents threw her a gigantic party. She invited tons of kids from school and church so Mom spent a couple of evenings that week helping Mrs. Blanton plan and fix enough food to feed a small army.

The party was a huge success. There was almost every type of food and drink imaginable, loud music, dancing, and later in the evening everyone was treated to a special showing of one of Felicia's all time favorite movies, Princess Bride, in the media room. People turned green with envy at the coolness of Felicia's media room and there was much oohing and aahing. It was after midnight by the time the last person left.

I gave Felicia her gift, and she said she would listen to it right away. I had decided to do the other books for her if she enjoyed listening to it, but I refrained from telling her realizing that it might take me quite a while, not wanting to build up her expectations.

Thanksgiving Day was very quiet. Mom didn't have the heart to fix a turkey dinner with all of the trimmings and we were beat from the party the night before, so we ate leftovers that Mrs. Blanton insisted we take home. She appreciated all of Mom's help and the Howell's would never have been able to eat all the leftovers themselves. We invited Mrs. Murray over to eat, and she and Mom spent the rest of the day crocheting...another thing I'd tried and failed.

Holidays were the worst. It was bad enough that Dad was gone, but we'd lost Mark, too. I was glad when the long holiday weekend ended and school began again.

Coach Miller promised that I would be able to start back on a running program as long as I continued to let her tape up my ankle every morning. I had to build back up slowly so I decided to let the morning run go, since I didn't want to sleep with my ankle taped, and only run in the evenings. I was getting lazy sleeping so late every day, but it was kind of nice.

We only had a few weeks until Christmas vacation and I was dreading all of that empty time with nothing to do. I had cut out quite a few activities in order to concentrate on the cross-country meets, so I figured it was a good time to start adding them back into my schedule, if for no other reason than to take my mind off my depression. I rejoined the huddle group, and began eating lunch with the gang in the cafeteria again. It was a start.

On a positive note, for some reason I no longer had to deal with unwanted invitations from the opposite sex, which was a very good thing. Heading to my house after school the week before Christmas, I mentioned that to Felicia and she laughed and said no one wanted to compete with my "boyfriend."

I was confused, to say the least, I thought everyone realized Michael and I weren't a 'thing'. We spent some time together at school, but that was it.

"Nick," Felicia supplied with exaggerated patience.

"Nick?" I repeated stupidly. "What does Nick have to do with it?"

"Duh, he was your date to the Homecoming Dance," Felicia knocked on her head a couple of times. "Hello...anyone home?" She asked facetiously.

"I know," I said, "But he was just subbing for..." I stopped, waiting for the pain that always accompanied thinking about Mark to subside.

With instant understanding, Felicia continued, hoping to distract me, "Well, the way you were wrapped in each other's arms, I don't think anyone is going to believe that's all it was," Felicia observed, "Especially since he wouldn't let any other guy within ten feet of you."

"He knew I didn't want to dance with anyone else so he was just being gallant."

"If you say so," Felicia said doubtfully, "but if you ask me, he was paying an awful lot of attention to you for someone who was just being 'gallant'."

"We're friends," I said simply.

"Looked like more than 'friends' to me."

"I'm seven years younger than he is," I shrugged helplessly. "He thinks of me more as a little sister, probably because he only has brothers. It's a new experience for him."

"And you're okay with that," it was more of a statement than a question.

"I have to be," I whispered emotion choking me for a moment.

Realizing that was all I could handle, Felicia changed the subject.

As we reached my house, Felicia pointed and said, "Speak of the devil...that's Nick's pickup," adding curiously, "I wonder what he's doing here in the middle of the week."

"I don't know," I replied uneasily, "He didn't say anything about coming last night when we talked; although I know he's through for the semester."

"Well, I have to get back to the house before John shows up, we're studying for tomorrow's finals together," Felicia said knowing what I was about to ask and forestalling me.

"Traitor," I mumbled under my breath.

Felicia laughed and said, "Sorry, but you'll have to handle Nick on your own. Besides," she continued, "you said he treats you like a kid sister and you're getting along fine now so you should have no problem dealing with him."

"On the phone," I admitted, "and I'm glad; it has made it easier, but I still feel very uncomfortable around him sometimes. I can't forget that I..." I couldn't finish, but Felicia, assuming I was still talking about having a crush on him, thought she knew what I was talking about. I didn't disillusion her.

"He's never mentioned anything about it," Felicia noted thoughtfully "so he either doesn't know how you feel or he understands and doesn't care. I think you should just forget it."

"Easier said than done," I muttered as I got out of the car. "Thanks for the ride. I'll see you tomorrow. Last day of finals...Yay us!"

Felicia laughed and waved as she backed out of the driveway and took off. I was nervous as I made my way to the porch. Standing there for a few seconds, I took some deep breaths and opened the door. The living room was deserted, and as I headed toward the stairs in order to unload my stuff in my room, the sound of Nick's voice coming from the kitchen froze me to the spot.

"It's just a Christmas present," Nick was saying, "Not an engagement ring."

"No!"

I could tell Mom was upset.

"Allison, the age difference between us doesn't matter."

"It matters to me," Mom returned stubbornly.

"No," Nick disagreed, "it's not our age difference that's bothering you."

"Of course it is."

"No, it's something else, admit it."

"CeeCee isn't ready to handle something like this. It's too soon."

"CeeCee will be fine; she's matured a lot over the past few months. You're grasping at straws."

"Nick, please...I'm telling you she isn't ready."

"This is really about you, isn't it? You aren't ready and you're using her as an excuse."

"Nick..."

"Admit it, Allison; this isn't about CeeCee at all."

"Okay, I admit it, I'm not ready," she whispered, "It's too soon."

"Allison..."

"No! It's too soon!"

"Allison, be reasonable..."

"I don't want to be reasonable. I don't have to be reasonable."

"I'm not going to go away; you will have to deal with this sooner or later."

"I choose later."

"When, later?"

"I don't know."

"I'll be as patient as I can, Allison, but you have to throw me a bone here. I'm a starving man."

"I don't know."

"That's not good enough, give me something."

"Graduation, okay, you have to wait until after graduation to tell her."

"Done," Nick agreed instantly.

There was silence. I was rooted to the floor in shock. I knew I had to get out of there, but my legs wouldn't cooperate. I couldn't let them find me there, eavesdropping on their personal conversation.

In a blind panic, willing my legs to obey, I turned and ran for the door. Instinctively I made no noise as I exited the house.

How would I ever be able to face them? They could never know that I had been there, that I had overheard.

I felt no pain...yet...my whole being taken up with thoughts of escape. I hit the ground running and, ignoring the twinges in my ankle, didn't stop until I reached the jogging park. Funny how that place had become my escape hatch, my haven in times of unbearable pain...not funny ha-ha, but funny strange...at that point I didn't know if I would ever find anything truly funny again.

I ran deep into the park, finding one of the benches hidden among trees and overgrown shrubbery. Sitting down, I pulled my knees up to my chin and wrapped my arms around them.

I couldn't even cry, the pain was too deep. I had finally admitted to myself that my feelings for Nick were more than just a schoolgirl crush, opened up to him, trusted him, too late realizing that he was only being nice to his future stepdaughter.

I told myself over and over that he was just being friendly, that was all he wanted from me, but deep down I couldn't believe he didn't feel something for me, something more than just friendship.

NO! I screamed in silent agony. She's old enough to be his mother. They can't do this to me. What am I supposed to do? How can I face them again? I can't do it. I won't do it.

At least Mom had enough compassion to wait until I graduated in order to tell me. Oh no, what if they knew how I was feeling? Had I been that obvious? I'd tried to hide my feelings from everyone except Felicia. Was I that bad of an actress? Is that why there were discussing me...wondering how I would take it...because they knew?

And what about Dad? I thought she loved him. How could she? It had only been six months since his death, not even six months. Was she that fickle...that faithless? Were her nighttime tears for Dad, or for Nick? Is that why he'd stopped me from entering her room all of those months ago; the night I had thrown myself at him? No wonder he'd flinched as if he'd been scalded. He must have been horrified. My cheeks burned at the memory. I was so stupid.

All the signs had been there. In a strangely detached way, I began listing everything I had noticed over the past six months.

1. The way Mom lit up the first time they'd met at Dad's funeral.

2. The way their eyes seemed to communicate.

3. The easy camaraderie between them...the smiling, the talking, the laughing.

4. How quickly he had moved from "Mrs. Wilson" to Allison

5. How...I cringed at the word...intimate her name sounded on his lips.

6. The conversation I'd just overheard...the mention of an engagement ring.

Moaning aloud, I startling some birds that had been roosting in a nearby bush. Making a list hadn't helped; it served only to make everything more real, more undeniable.

I hated them both, and I loved them both. What a mess.

I had to think, plan, and decide what to do, but I couldn't. Nothing made sense anymore. Disjointed thoughts were floating around in my head, but they were just out of reach. I kept trying to catch them and fit them together, but with no success.

Just how much pain could one person take and not explode or in my case...implode?

Time passed, but I remained unaware.

It was almost dark before my cell phone rang. Mechanically, I reached in my backpack—I hadn't put it down when I was in the house, thankfully—and looked to see who was calling: Mom.

What should I do?

Answer it...? She would be able to tell from my voice that something was wrong.

Simply let it ring...? The police would probably be at my house by the time I got home.

I had no choice.

"Hi, Mom," I said into the phone, hoping to inject just enough life into my voice to keep her from being suspicious.

"CeeCee, where are you? I have been waiting supper for you for over an hour."

"Sorry Mom," I tried to sound sorry, but I don't think I succeeded, "Felicia and I had a snack before she dropped me off," I lied, feeling horribly guilty, "So I decided to head straight to the jogging park. I'll be home in a bit. See ya."

I hung up.

Well, at least she wouldn't be calling the police.

Suddenly I was angry...as angry as I had ever been in my entire life, and that was saying something.

I would show them that I didn't need either one of them. They could have each other, but they weren't getting me as well. I would start applying to some out-of-state colleges and as soon as graduation was over, I would be out of there.

I had a momentary twinge about leaving Mark, but he had already chosen his witch of a girlfriend over me, so I hardened my heart against him. Felicia and I had applied to UT, but maybe I could get her to go with me somewhere else. I hoped so; she was my lifeline, the only grip I had left on my sanity.

Total darkness had fallen before I made my way back home. For the first time ever, I walked the whole way, not having the energy to run. I could barely breathe. My heart was in pieces, and my lungs weren't functioning well.

I desperately needed something to take my mind off the scene I had witnessed.

A list...that was what I needed...a list of things I could do to give the appearance of being normal. Yes, lists were good. Okay, think...what would show them I was perfectly fine, a normal...yeah right...teenager.

I had nothing. My mind was completely and utterly blank. For the first time in my life, I couldn't come up with a list of any kind. There was nothing but emptiness inside of me. My limit of pain had been reached, and I couldn't process anymore.

The only possible way for me to survive was by embracing the emptiness, the blankness, making sure my mind was carefully devoid of any thought or emotion. That was the only defense I had left...my only form of protection, self-preservation, although at that point I wasn't sure what was left of me worth preserving.

Taking a deep breath as I opened the front door, I pretended as if it was the first time.

Chapter 23

Dear Diary,

I hate hospitals!

CeeCee

Christmas came and went in much the same way as Thanksgiving. I made it through the last day of finals, even though I don't remember anything about them, and vacation loomed in front of me. I spent a lot of time recording the second Agent Jack Knight book for Felicia.

Felicia's birthday bash had been so successful the kids at school and church convinced her to have a Christmas party. Of course, she roped me into helping plan it. I figured that was as good a way to waste time as anything else was.

Mom suggested that we start off by Christmas caroling at the local old folk's home. Felicia loved that idea. Then, instead of a regular gift exchange, Felicia opted to do a white elephant thing. To top it off she decided to show The Santa Clause in the media room. Mom and Mrs. Blanton began planning the food again, and they invited Mrs. Murray to join them. She was thrilled to help.

The party was, not surprisingly, a great success. How could it be anything else with Felicia in charge? Once again, Mrs. Blanton sent us home with tons of leftovers. Mrs. Murray and Mom made plans for us to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day together. Mrs. Murray was grateful for the company. Her one child, a son, was married and stationed overseas and she didn't get to see him often.

I gave Felicia the second Agent Jack Knight book on CD for Christmas, but hadn't started on the third one. I didn't have the energy.

Although Felicia knew something was wrong, I was fairly certain she put it down to the trouble with Mark, which I'd briefly explained to her, instead of having anything to do with Nick. I didn't disillusion her. I suspected that she might not be totally over the Mark crush so I didn't want to make her feel as badly as I did about my situation with Nick. I still couldn't talk about Nick, not even with her.

I survived each day by merely going through the motions of living automatically. I carefully kept my mind a blank, and tried not to think about anything if I could help it.

I was distant on the phone with Nick, cutting our conversations down to a mere five minutes of "Hi, how are you?" "Fine, you?" and I could tell he was puzzled, but there was nothing I could do about it.

Even though he was well aware that something was wrong, he had no clue what it was and thankfully something held him back from asking me directly. I didn't know how I would have handled that.

My carefully constructed calm crumbled the day before Christmas when I received a package from Nick. I debated about opening it, but my curiosity was peaked. Carefully tearing open the paper, I took out a small black box. Lifting the lid I saw a tiny charm, the most delicately shaped silver figurine I had ever seen and it looked like it was running.

Where does he find these things? I wondered in awe as I held it carefully in between my thumb and index finger examining it minutely.

It was perfect.

I hadn't worn Nick's bracelet since the 'day of discovery' in order to try to keep my mind blank and my emotions under total control, but as I held the delicately shaped object, a lump found its way into my throat again, and I knew tears weren't far away...so much for blankness and control.

From that point on, I lived with that stupid lump—which seemed to have taken up a permanent residence in my throat—a pain in my chest area that wouldn't go away, and a queasy stomach that rebelled against food.

Everything reminded me of Nick.

A couple of weeks into January I finally had to stop calling him in the evenings. I couldn't control my voice any longer. He tried calling me, but I refused to answer.

Mom was concerned; Nick had apparently called to ask her what was wrong since I had quit calling him and wasn't answering his phone calls. I told her I was fine, just busy, and I would call him later when things slowed down.

To prove my point, I began staying out longer during my nightly runs. I never in the mornings any more—I hadn't since I sprained my ankle—not wanting to wake up and face the day any sooner than I had to, so I tried to make up for it at night, especially since I needed to be exhausted in order to fall sleep anyway.

Sleep was elusive to say the least. When I wasn't thinking about Nick and Mom and the conversation I'd overheard, I was replaying the Mark fiasco in my head over and over again.

We began moving our stuff into the new apartment the first of January—I had almost forgotten that we planned to sell the house—and since Mark was no longer available to help, and neither Mom nor I wanted to call Nick, that meant we were on our own.

We loaded the small stuff ourselves in our compact car, and then paid a small two-man moving company that someone from church had recommended to move our furniture and appliances.

In December, Mom had donated the handicapped van to a local charity. We could have used it for the move if we'd kept it, but seeing that thing parked by the garage every day depressed us both so I was glad to get rid of it.

We hadn't discussed it, but I suspected Mom felt the same. It had been a painful, daily reminder sitting there so...alone and abandoned.

Anyway, thankfully, Mom had found us a first floor apartment. That helped a lot.

We only took our washer and dryer—since the other appliance came furnished with the apartment—and our bedroom, living room, and dining room furniture. Mom called the Salvation Army to pick up everything else.

At the last minute, she decided to give our couch away and have a sleeper sofa delivered to our new apartment, not quite ready to give up hope that Mark would come around.

I already had, but then I'd given up on most everything.

By the last week of January, we'd fully settled into the apartment.

The move had been hard on me. Boxes that I'd easily lifted only days before, seemed almost too heavy to lift and wore me out just carrying them the short distance from the house to the car and then from the car to the apartment.

I hadn't been able to bring myself to do any weight lifting during the holidays and, realizing how much ground I'd lost plus acknowledging the fact that I had to start back slowly, depressed me so I'd waited until school began again to do anything about it...and it showed.

Even once I returned to a weight training schedule, my heart wasn't in it.

Although the weight training gave me a good excuse to bow out of lunch in the cafeteria with the gang, I wasn't sure I wanted to race anymore.

Track season was scheduled to begin sometime towards the end of February or first of March, and I knew the coach was counting on me to run the mile and the 800-meter races, but none of that seemed important to me any longer.

Nothing did.

Thankfully, because Mom and Mrs. Murray had become such good friends, they spent more time together in the evenings and on weekends, giving me an excuse to be on my own. I didn't have anything to do; I just didn't want to hang around Mom.

As much as I loved her, she reminded me too much of things I wanted to forget. Even though Mom didn't regret moving, she did regret being so far away from Mrs. Murray, so it was nice for them to still be able to visit each other.

By the middle of February, I realized that Felicia and Michael were going to start questioning me about what was bothering me. I tried to be normal around them, but they knew me too well to be fooled, especially Felicia. I could attempt to convince her it was all about Mark, but I hated lying to her.

Although I tended to lie by omission frequently, I cringed at being what my dad would have called an "out and out liar" so I put them off by saying I couldn't talk about it yet. It was the truth, as far as it went.

Dad, Mark, and Nick—I was tired of loving men who deserted me. Dad had no choice...the others had no excuse. Technically, Nick hadn't deserted me, but falling for my mother felt like a type of betrayal so it qualified. I guess I was cursed, jinxed, or maybe just plain stupid. Maybe it was all of the above; it kind of felt like it.

School became exhausting. Even though I trained daily all through February, I still had trouble lifting anywhere near the weight load I had before, and I frequently had to stop and rest during my runs.

Right after we moved, I'd run out of vitamins, so I asked Mom to buy more thinking that would help. I hated swallowing pills—a leftover from when I was a kid and had to swallow Penicillin pills that left a terrible taste in my mouth no matter how quickly I swallowed them—so Mom always humored me and bought children's chewable vitamins for me to take. Unfortunately, the vitamins didn't help.

By the end of February, I felt even worse.

Sometime during the first week in March, I finally decided I must be coming down with something. I realized I'd have to give in and ask Mom to make a doctor appointment for me.

That Thursday night, I couldn't even run. I walked to the school, thinking I would do an easy jog, but I was so limp and exhausted by the time I got there that I turned right around and walked back home.

When I reached the apartment, my head was spinning and all I wanted to do was fall straight into bed. Gripping the doorknob, I stood for a moment, trying to find the energy as well as the equilibrium to open the door, to take another step...

~ * * ~

I couldn't open my eyes, but I could hear voices. Where was I? I remembered...what did I remember...think CeeCee; think...well at least I knew who I was, so it wasn't amnesia.

The last thing I remembered, I'd been out running, actually walking would be more accurate, and I was trying to open the door to the apartment. I was tired, but that wasn't unusual, I was always tired. My head started spinning then...nothing.

"CeeCee..."

I heard my name, but the voice wasn't familiar. No one was talking to me...they were talking about me. I tried to open my eyes, but failed miserably so I left them shut as I attempted to concentrate on understanding the words: dehydration...malnutrition...over-exertion.

Were they talking about me?

"We'll keep her overnight on an IV to begin replacing the fluids she's lost as well as for observation," the voice was saying, "but she should be okay to go home sometime tomorrow. I'll make sure you get a list of instructions to follow. She's in pretty bad shape, but luckily we caught it before it turned severe."

"Thank you, doctor," that was definitely Mom's voice.

I heard the doctor go out and Mom came over to me and took my hand. Again, I tried to open my eyes and say something but I was so tired...

~ * * ~

My head hurt and the voices were louder...angrier. I wanted to tell them to go away and let me sleep, but I was so exhausted it was too much of an effort.

"...were you thinking?"

Nick? What is he doing here?

"She seemed fine," Mom said helplessly.

"She seemed fine," he repeated contemptuously. "How could you not notice?" I could hear the anger in his voice and I cringed realizing that he was talking about me. "She must have lost ten pounds since I last saw her. I would have been able to tell something was wrong over the phone..."

"She's the one who chose to stop answering your phone calls," Mom pointed out defensively. "I had nothing to do with that."

"Maybe not, but you practically ordered me to stay away and I let you," Nick said in self-disgust. "I should have driven up here immediately and confronted her, found out what was bothering her."

"As you're so fond of pointing out, she's 18, an adult; she can pick and choose who she wants to talk to."

"Make up your mind already! Either she's an adult who can choose for herself, in which case I don't have to wait for graduation to tell her, or she's still a child who needs protection."

I'd never heard Nick so infuriated.

What have I done?

"Nick," I could hear the alarm in Mom's voice. "You promised you'd wait."

"I agreed to wait until graduation to tell her," Nick reminded her coldly. "I didn't agree to stay away until then."

"Okay," Mom's voice wasn't much more than a tired whisper, "I won't try to keep you away any longer."

"Go home and rest, Allison," he commanded. "I'll stay the night."

"No, I can't leave her."

"She'll be fine," Nick assured her in a kinder tone, "The doctor said there was no damage done, that they caught it in time. I'll call you if she needs you."

There was silence. All I could hear was their breathing and the sounds of monitoring machines. A memory flashed into my mind, a memory of similar sounds...and Dad...

The memory was so painful that I gasped and opened my eyes.

"CeeCee...?"

Nick grasped my hand, looking worriedly down at me. Mom appeared next to the bed slightly behind Nick, and level with my knees.

"Nick," I whispered...it was the best I could do. I hadn't noticed how dry my mouth was before. "Water," I managed to croak.

I sounded horrible.

"I have some ice here the doctor said we could give you," Nick reached over and picked a small piece of ice out of the cup and put it in my mouth. "He wants you to start out with small amounts and build up slowly."

The ice felt good.

"More...?" I croaked out again.

Nick smiled and continued to put ice in my mouth. He stood on my right side, still holding my hand in his, and using his left to reach for the ice. I tried to smile back, but failed miserably.

I finally shook my head, indicating that I was done.

"Better...?" he asked.

I just nodded rather than using my frog voice.

Mom hadn't said anything the whole time. I hated to think I had caused her as much pain as I had just experienced when my thoughts had flown back in time to Dad's final stay in the hospital. The sounds, the smells, everything had come together in that split second to remind me of the last time I had seen Dad alive. It had been so vivid, so excruciatingly real.

"Mom...?"

I decided that my whisper was better than my croak. Nick released my hand, reluctantly, and moved out of the way for Mom to come closer.

"Go rest."

Tears instantly sprang to her eyes.

"CeeCee..." she began.

"Please, Mom."

I had never been chatty but I would be extremely glad when I could put more than two words together again without sounding terrible and being exhausted.

"I'm sorry," she whispered taking my hand and squeezing.

She was blaming herself for my stupid mistakes. I couldn't allow that.

"My fault" and I was back to the croaking.

"I should have..."

"My fault!" I croaked loudly.

I'd been the one who had given up...the one who'd found it too difficult to swallow food around the constant lump in my throat and decided it wasn't worth the effort, who'd felt too queasy to even attempt eating more often than not, who frequently forgot to drink enough water. I had even continued to run out of habit, although I was too weak to do much more than walk a lot of the time. I had been guilty of neglecting myself, no one else, just me.

Mom had begun crying in earnest, the tears pouring out of her eyes. She bent down to hug me and somehow I found the strength to return it.

"I love you," Mom whispered in my ear.

"Ditto," I whispered back, all I could manage.

I didn't realize it would cause Mom to cry even harder. I should have, but I didn't. It was too similar to what she had heard Dad say to me for years.

When will I learn? Will I ever stop causing Mom so much pain? She doesn't need anymore. I have to stop!

"Go rest," I sounded a little better, "I'm fine."

I tried to be reassuring, but it was hard without the cooperation of my vocal cords.

"Okay," Mom straightened up and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue Nick handed her from my hospital table. "I'll be back in the morning. You can come home tomorrow."

She attempted a smile for me. Since mine felt more like a travesty than a smile, I just nodded. I was fighting to keep my eyes open, but...

~ * * ~

The room had darkened considerably while I'd slept, and I could hear whispering.

Does anyone sleep around here? I wondered irritably.

Actually, it sounded more like angry hissing. My fault, no doubt...it usually was...

"...ignored your family for months."

Nick was angry again. I wondered who the unlucky recipient was.

"I had no idea Laticia was deleting all of my voice mails."

Mark's voice sounded angry and defensive at the same time.

"Of course you didn't," Nick's said scathingly, "Because you would rather believe some beautiful, artificially enhanced, lying, scheming witch than your own family...or roommate. CeeCee and I both tried to open your eyes to the truth, but your obsession with this woman bordered on fanatical and your lack of faith in your sister crushed her spirit."

"Look," Mark began desperately, "If I could take it all back I would, but I'd never met anyone like her before and I didn't realize what she was doing to me. I just couldn't believe what you were both saying because it was impossible that someone that angelic looking was evil."

"And now...?" Nick asked bluntly.

"Everything you and CeeCee said was true," Mark confessed. "After I got your call, I checked my log of missed calls and saw that you and Mom had called at least five times today but no voice mail. All of CeeCee's calls over the past few months were there, also, I'd just never bothered to check. I totally bought everything Laticia was telling me. Once I confronted her about it, she finally admitted to deleting my messages."

"Did she say why?" Nick asked curiosity temporarily overriding his anger.

"Yes, but I have no clue what she was talking about."

"What do you mean?"

"She'd been trying to convince me to apply for law school for quite a while, but I didn't know why. She finally confessed that her dad was my uncle's partner in a law firm, and since my aunt and uncle had no sons, I was the only male Tate left to carry on the family tradition."

"What's so confusing about that?"

Nick was obviously bewildered and I was in complete shock.

What aunt and uncle...?

"Other than Mom and CeeCee, I didn't know I had any living relatives," Mark answered simply.

I wanted to stay still and hear more, but I was having a major bladder issue. I stirred in the bed so that they would think I was just waking up, and then called "Nick?"

Since he'd been there when I dropped off to sleep, I thought it would be only natural for me to assume he was still there.

"CeeCee..." Nick said in relief, immediately moving to my side.

"I need the nurse," I croaked, but a little more clearly than before.

"Are you in pain?" Mark asked anxiously hovering over Nick's shoulder. "Is something wrong?"

"Mark!"

No way was I about to let on that I'd been eavesdropping, so I pretended to be surprised that he was there.

"Fine," I assured him, "I just need to..." I trailed off a little embarrassed, but they picked up on it pretty quickly.

Nick reached over and pushed a button.

"The nurse will be right here."

"Thanks."

"We'll just go wait out in the hall," Mark offered.

"I'm glad you're here."

He looked as if he wanted to say more but the nurse came in at that point, turned on the lights, and shooed them out the door. She disconnected all of the monitors and helped me out of bed. I was a little wobbly on my feet at first, so the nurse let me hold onto her while she moved the IV with us.

When I was done, it was a relief to lie down again; I was exhausted but not as sleepy as I had been, so I asked if I could raise the head of the bed up for a while. She hooked up the monitoring machines again, showed me all the buttons to push to control the bed, and told me I could watch TV if I wanted. After putting the ice where I could reach it, she asked if I needed anything else. I told her no, thanked her for her help, and she left.

Mark came back as soon as the nurse cleared the door.

I looked behind him and I guess the disappointment was written all over my face because Mark said, "Don't worry, he hasn't gone far. He thought we needed a little time alone together."

I nodded, not sure what to say. I put some ice in my mouth and waited. I wasn't ready to talk yet. Although it sounded as if he and Laticia were history, I had really stepped in it before, and the result had been losing Mark, so I didn't want to want to risk that happening again.

"I want you to know how sorry I am I didn't believe you about Laticia," he began soberly. "I realize now she was playing me, but..."

He hesitated and I whispered insistently, "You believe me?"

"I should have believed you right away," Mark admitted, "but I didn't want it to be true. I'm sorry I deserted you and Mom. No woman is worth that."

"Mark..."

I reached out and put my hand on his arm. I had to get it out, no matter how tired it made me or how terrible I sounded. My voice was a weird combination of whispering and croaking.

"We both know that one day you're going to find someone who means more to you than we do," he began to protest, but I stopped him and continued, "And that's the way it should be."

I had to take a break and put more ice in my mouth. He patiently waited for me to go on.

"Whatever girl you choose may or may not like us, but I would like to think that she would be nice enough to understand that we're still family and need to be in each other's lives."

More ice.

"I would really like a sister though," I added mischievously.

Mark laughed in relief and gave me a gentle hug.

"I'll see what I can do," he promised.

"What made you finally dump her?"

"You did," Mark replied soberly.

"I did? What did I do?" I asked in my best imitation of an astonished frog voice.

"Once Nick got through to me on the phone, I told Laticia that I was going to go see you."

I could tell by the look on his face that the memory was not pleasant.

"She gave me an ultimatum. I had to choose: you or her. I chose you."

I would have had tears in my eyes at that point but, apparently, my dehydration was so severe I couldn't. Thinking back, it was no wonder I hadn't cried real tears in weeks.

"Thank you," I whispered.

Mark bent down to hug me.

"Is it safe?" Nick asked peering around the door.

Straightening up Mark turned to him and said, "Come on in".

"I called your mom," Nick informed him. "She's expecting you,"

"You should have let her sleep."

"I suspected she wouldn't be sleeping. She admitted that she hadn't even changed out of her street clothes, she's so worried about CeeCee," Nick said. "If you don't go there, she'll come here," he warned. "She's missed you."

"Okay, okay," Mark surrendered. "We need to talk anyway."

"Make sure she gets some sleep," I whispered my two-cents worth.

"I'll do my best," Mark assured me, "But stubbornness seems to run in the family."

"You should know," I retorted, the frog making an appearance again. Turning to Nick I said, "You go, too. I'm fine."

Selfishly, I didn't want him to leave, but I realized that he wasn't mine to keep and Mom might need him.

Totally ignoring me, Nick continued talking to Mark, "I'll walk you out and give you directions to the apartment."

I sat there in the bed fuming, waiting for Nick to return.

Ignore me, would he? He was going to get a piece of my mind when he...wait a minute, I was actually angry. I hadn't had the energy to feel anything that strong in a long time. Instead of the scowl I had planned for Nick's return, I was almost smiling.

"Glad you're so happy to see me back," Nick commented.

"Actually I'm so angry with you I could spit," my smile grew.

"And that makes you smile because..." he began my sentence for me.

"Because I haven't felt anything other than depression in months."

"Well if anger makes you smile, I'll have to stick around for a while," Nick decided. "At this rate, I should be able to infuriate you into a state of euphoria in no time at all."

"You have to go back and finish your clinical," I reminded him, relieved that my voice was sounding better and it didn't seem to take as much effort to talk.

"Since I haven't missed a day all year, I've been allowed to take tomorrow...today off," he laughed, correcting himself. "Guess you'll have to put up with me a little longer."

"Nick, you've been up all night. You need to sleep. I'll be fine."

"I have been sleeping," he pointed to the uncomfortable looking couch behind my bed. Craning my neck, I noticed a pillow and blanket thrown across it. "But I have to admit, your room is Grand Central Station."

"This is a hospital," I reminded him with mock severity.

"True," he replied ruefully "Very true."

"Nick..." I ventured hesitantly, "Thanks for...everything."

"You're welcome for...everything," Nick returned gently. "Now lights out while we attempt to get some sleep."

"Sounds like a deal," I agreed stifling a yawn.

I put my bed down until I was comfortable and allowed myself to drift.

Chapter 24

Dear Diary,

Mom has siblings.

CeeCee

I felt a lot stronger by the time the doctor allowed me to check out of the hospital the next day. Sitting on the edge of my hospital bed, fully dressed, I was anxious to get out of there. Noticing how baggy my jeans were, I smiled ruefully thinking that Nick would be pleased.

Apparently, hospital policy required me to ride in a wheelchair down to the front entrance, but no one warned me ahead of time and I almost came unglued when I saw it wheeled into the room. I froze from the shock of seeing it so unexpectedly and all I could do was sit staring at it whispering 'NO' over and over again.

I am not going to sit in a wheelchair. They can't make me. I can't do it, I can't do it!

I kept picturing Dad and all of the feelings that I had tried so desperately to bury came surging up to suffocate me. I became totally incoherent, unable to think or breathe, and then I began hyperventilating.

Suddenly, there were arms holding me tightly and soothing words being whispered in my ear and although I couldn't decipher the actual meaning—comprehension was beyond me at that point—Nick's voice finally broke through my panic and, along with the feel of his arms around me, calmed me down eventually.

Once he realized that I was improving, he reached over casually and picked up my cup of water, putting it to my lips, telling me to drink. I managed a swallow and was able to breathe a little better.

After a couple swallows, I felt a lot more stable and was able to process things better.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"You have nothing to be sorry about," Nick said soothingly. "Your mom is talking to the doctor on the phone right now at the nurse's station. She'll get everything sorted out."

"Thank you."

As much as I wanted to stay right where I was, in Nick's arms, I knew it wasn't a good idea so I straightened up and attempted a smile.

"I'm okay now."

I was reassuring myself as much as I was Nick.

Nick nodded and got up from the bed while Mark took his place next to me.

"I'll go check on your mom," Nick said and left the room.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered to Mark. "I just couldn't... I can't..."

"I understand more than you realize," Mark nodded his head thoughtfully. "I had a similar reaction when they brought it in. I didn't know if I'd be able to watch you sit in one of those...things."

He couldn't seem to say the word wheelchair.

"You didn't panic and hyperventilate though," I pointed out.

"No offense intended, but I think I'm in a little better shape than you are right now," he thought for a second and then gently teased, "I never thought I would be able to say that to you."

It was a release for both of us to be able to laugh. My voice still sounded horrible, but it felt good. Mom and Nick caught the end of our laughter as they reentered the room...the relief on their faces obvious.

I was able to walk out of the hospital with Mark and Nick on each side of me offering me their support and ready to catch me if I stumbled. Mom led us out to the car while the nurse followed with an eagle eye. Progress was slow, but anything was better than the alternative.

Mom sent me straight to bed as soon as we reached the apartment. I didn't argue; my energy level had plummeted to zero. I was asleep almost as soon as my head touched the pillow.

~ * * ~

Someone kept calling my name, but I couldn't open my eyes to see who it was.

"Maybe we should let her sleep," Mom suggested doubtfully.

"She needs fluids in her body," Nick stated firmly. "Now that the IV is gone, we have to make sure she stays on some sort of schedule."

I finally got at least one eye open to see three pairs of eyes leaning over me, peering down anxiously.

Crossly, I snapped, "A little too close."

And I was back to the croaking.

"I brought you some supper," Mom said lightly, straightening up and away from the bed.

My stomach churned unpleasantly at the thought of food.

Nick, noticing my distaste, added teasingly, "Don't worry...it's not what anyone in their right mind would call supper."

Mom stuck her tongue out at Nick. I barked out a laugh...or what passed for a laugh...but, apparently, it didn't sound like one because I was quickly the recipient of the six-eyed stare again.

"Laughing," I croaked at them in annoyance.

"The instructions say a liquid diet until you can stomach solid foods again," Mom informed me, "so I've fixed you chicken broth, Jell-O, and apple juice. You can have as much as you want," she continued as she placed the tray across my legs.

"Oh joy," I eyed the 'supper' less than enthusiastically. "You're such a good cook."

I hoped that a little teasing would get me out from under the microscope.

"Better watch out," Mark added playfully, "Nick and I are so hungry we might be fighting you for it soon. Although, on second thought, maybe not," he wrinkled his nose at my tray of 'food'. "We should probably eat out, if that's what's on the menu."

"The next person who makes an unwarranted comment about my cooking skills will be eating dirt for the duration of their stay," Mom threatened.

"That lets me out," I piped up after I'd taken a swallow of apple juice. "I can only have liquids. Dirt definitely doesn't qualify."

There was definitely a direct correlation between fluids swallowed and the frog effect. I downed another mouthful of juice.

"Weasel," Mark accused lightly.

We all laughed and I got to work on 'drinking' my 'supper'. I was hungrier than I realized and, amidst much ribbing, actually asked Mom for more. They were all pleased, I could tell, and I was glad to have done something right for a change.

"Is it okay if we go out in the living room?" I asked hopefully after finishing off the second helping. "I can tell staying in my bedroom is going to get old fast."

"As long as you allow one of us to help you," Nick qualified, "Just in case you get a little light headed,"

"Mark?"

I made it into a question and a request at the same time. As much as I would have preferred Nick, I had to start letting go sometime.

Once Mark had me comfortably settled on the couch with Mom, he and Nick sat in the armchairs. I turned to Mom and, before I could lose the small amount of nerve I possessed, asked, "Do we really have an aunt and uncle?"

Mom and Mark exchanged a quick glance. "Maybe now isn't the best time..." Mom began.

"I'm not made of porcelain," I interrupted irritably. "I admit I messed up, which really shouldn't come as a shock to anyone here, but I'm not going to be stupid enough to let myself get into this kind of shape again, no matter what the provocation. "

As exhausted as my little speech made me, it was a huge relief to get it all out in the open.

In a tired voice I asked, "Could I have some ice water and an explanation...in that order?"

"I'll get the water," Nick offered, getting up from his chair.

"Mom...?" I prompted.

"I guess now that Mark knows, it's only fair that I explain it to you," Mom conceded in resignation.

I accepted the water from Nick absently, my full concentration centered on Mom. She waited until Nick took his seat again before beginning her story.

"I was born in Austin, the youngest of three children, to Lowell and Violet Tate. My brother Phillip is almost fifteen years older than I am and Brittany is around twelve years older. My father was a lawyer and became a judge right after your dad and I married. He was a partner in the family law firm Tate, Williams, & Preston. My parents were...not very nice people. I wasn't allowed to be friends with anyone they didn't approve of and they had already planned out who I was to marry."

I gasped.

"What...like an arranged marriage?" I asked incredulously.

Mom smiled wearily, "My brother and sister were already married off to the 'right people'. Phillip married the oldest sister of my best friend Natalie Preston—their father was one of our father's law partners—and Brittany married a plastic surgeon who was considerably older. There were no eligible males old enough the law firm partners' families for Brittany to marry, so my parents married her off to someone wealthy who projected the right image. I was 'lucky' that one of the partners' sisters had a son for me. Richard and I were the same age so it was always assumed that we would marry eventually."

"And you agreed to this?" I asked having a hard time reconciling that with the woman I had known for eighteen years.

"Let's just say I didn't overtly disagree with any of it. There's a difference," she pointed out. "Arguing with my parents would have accomplished nothing, instead I made a deal with them; if they would pay for my college, I in turn would do everything I could to help my father become a judge. I went to every event escorted by Richard, behaved with decorum, and managed to present the image of the loving daughter."

Mom shuddered.

"My parents weren't even going to allow me to go to college until I convinced them that a Home Economics degree would be just what I needed to be the perfect wife to Richard. My plan was to graduate in three years by taking as many courses as I could as quickly as I could. They had no idea that I was getting my teaching certificate. I was going to give everything back to them as soon as I graduated, my car, my apartment, even most of my clothes and get a job to support myself."

"So how did Dad figure into all of this?" I asked fascinated by the peek I was receiving into my mother's early life.

"I met your dad's mother at a craft shop. I was helping the owner out whenever she was shorthanded. She was a friend of a friend starting out in her own business, and since my parents absolutely refused to allow me to get a job, I volunteered to help her in my spare time. Your grandmother came in one day and she reminded me so strongly of my old nanny whom I'd loved dearly that I couldn't let her go without finding out who she was and where she lived. I drove her home the first day we met. Stupid of me I know, but she wasn't a stranger, I felt like I'd known her forever. We just clicked. I met your dad at a Christmas concert on campus about a month later. Elsee loved classical music so James bought tickets for her as a Christmas present. I was with Richard, Natalie, and a few others. When our eyes met..." Mom's voice broke. We all waited in silence for her to continue. "Your father didn't want to fall in love with a 'poor little rich girl' as he put it, so he rejected me."

"No way!"

I couldn't believe that my father would ever have rejected his Allison.

"Yes way," Mom smiled reminiscently. "I was devastated. He had to do a lot of groveling before I gave in." Mom laughed softly, "Not really, I didn't stand a chance against his green eyes."

She was lost in the past for a moment remembering things we didn't want to intrude upon.

"But I digress," she continued after a bit. "James wanted to be upfront with my parents about his desire to marry me, but I wouldn't let him. I knew my father would find some way to hurt him or his mother if I refused to cooperate. They found out from one of my 'friends' anyway, so it didn't matter in the end."

"Surely your father wouldn't have tried to do anything to hurt any of you," I objected, "I mean, he was your father!"

"Thankfully, 'father' means something different to you than it did to him. He did try, but Elsee's boss, a very nice woman who disliked my father intensely, and with good reason, had something on him that held him in check. My father wanted to be a judge very badly, and the evidence she had would have destroyed that chance once and for all. I graduated after my third year and got my first teaching job there in Austin, James and I married, and then he graduated the next year. My father ended up allowing me to keep my car as a wedding present. He would have given us money, but I refused to take anything from him. He was only doing any of it in order to look good to the public, and I hated being a party to that any longer. The car was already in my name, so I finally agreed to keep it. It was a rather nice red BMW convertible."

She smiled reminiscently.

"Wow!" I exclaimed, beyond impressed.

My mom with a convertible...go figure.

"What happened to it? I don't remember a red convertible."

"We sold it and bought a mini-van when you were born. You probably remember that one...we kept it for a lot of years."

I laughed...I had to.

"You traded in a BMW convertible for a mini-van."

I shook my head in disbelief...only my mother.

"If you are quite through," Mom looked at me pointedly.

"Sorry," I grinned, "it's just so..." I couldn't even think of an appropriate word so I gave up, shaking my head again. "Go on, I'm listening."

"After your father graduated, he took the coaching job in west Texas making sure there was a job for me, too. James wanted me to stay home and take care of Mark, he was born right before we moved, but I was hooked on teaching. I loved it. We convinced Elsee to come live with us to take care of him while we were both at work. She helped us buy our house with what she had been able to save since James had a football/track scholarship and she'd been a live-in housekeeper with no rent to pay. She was one of the two sweetest women I have ever known."

Mom closed her eyes, smiling.

We were silent for a moment, allowing Mom to relive parts of her past without interruption. She had such a happy expression on her face all of us wanted it to last. Tears pooled in my eyes. Life had been so unfair to her. She didn't deserve all of the unhappiness she'd suffered.

Making up my mind right then and there, I decided that if Nick was what she needed in order to regain some of the happiness she'd lost, I wouldn't stand in the way. I was no longer angry with either of them for something they couldn't help, only at me. No matter how many times I told myself to stop causing Mom pain, it didn't seem to help. I needed to start putting other people first and quit being so selfishly self-absorbed.

There was one more connection I needed to make. I hesitated to ask, unwilling to cause Mark any more pain than he had already suffered, but I felt it was important for me to know. Apparently, causing us pain didn't bother our 'relatives' so I wanted to be armed and ready if something like that happened again.

At the risk of being accused of spying on a private conversation between Mark and Nick at the hospital, I had to know. The aunt and uncle discussion had been towards the very end, so it was only natural that I would have heard that part, but the rest...

"So what's the connection between your story and Laticia?" I asked Mom while watching Mark cautiously out of the corner of my eye.

"You were eavesdropping on our private conversation," Nick frowned.

I should have known he would be the one to make the connection.

Why did that sound so familiar? Remembering back to a similar conversation where I had accused him of the same thing, I decided to throw his own answer back in his face.

"The next time you decide to have a private conversation, you might want to consider doing it in a more private room" I smiled smugly...let him deal with that.

He glared at me. I couldn't believe it. I had finally managed to get under his thick skin. I tried to wipe the gloat off my face, but I failed miserably. Turning my attention back to Mom, I attempted to focus on what she was saying.

"Richard, the man I was supposed to marry, apparently married my old friend Nat...Natalie Preston. I still can't believe Richard became a lawyer," Mom shook her head in amazement. "His dad was all set for him to go into the banking industry; even had a job lined up for him as soon as he got his degree. I never thought he'd be able to convince him," she murmured more to herself than to me.

"The law firm is now named Tate, Williams, Preston, & Stover," Mark supplied.

"He's a partner?" Mom became thoughtful. "You know, it's funny, I always told him he should be a lawyer. He could talk people into just about anything. I remember how much he hated the idea of going into banking, but his father was a very stubborn man."

"Mom...Laticia?" I reminded her.

"Oh yes, sorry," she came back to the present with a start. "Laticia's last name is Stover. From what Mark told me, Richard and Nat...Natalie are her parents. You know, I can truly believe that Natalie knew about this all along, she could be vicious, and Phillip and Brittany never cared about me anyway, but I have a hard time picturing Richard sanctioning any of this. I realize that he was disappointed when I chose James over him, but he...I..."

I wished I hadn't asked about Laticia. I hadn't meant to upset Mom.

"I'm sorry," I began, "we don't have to..."

"No, it's alright," Mom assured me, pulling her self together. "I should have told you this before, but I had no idea that either of you needed to know about my...family... in order to protect yourselves."

"Mom, this wasn't your fault," Mark growled. "None of this was your fault; I'm the one that fell for a shallow, vain, self-centered, manipulating..."

"You and CeeCee keep saying that none of this is my fault, but it's entirely my fault," Mom said with tears in her eyes. "It's my job to watch over you and protect you and I have failed you both miserably."

I reached over and took one of Mom's hands while Mark squeezed himself next to her on the couch and put his arms around her.

"We are both adults," I reminded her, "Even though we haven't been acting like it. I for one am going to be more responsible from now on."

"We both will," Mark agreed. "I love you both too much to ever want to lose you," he added reaching around Mom to put a hand on my shoulder.

"I don't deserve either of you," Mom sniffed.

"You're right," I agreed, "You deserve better—much much better—and that's what we're going to try to do...be better."

"I've decided to go pay the Stover family a little visit," Mom said firmly. "I think it's time I looked up my 'old friends' and had a little chat."

"Mom," I said in alarm, "I think we should stay as far away from them as possible."

"You and Mark should stay as far away from them as possible," Mom agreed, adding, "But I'm going to go to Austin over spring break and confront them."

"You and CeeCee can stay at the apartment with Mark," Nick offered. "I'll crash at my parents' house while you're there."

"That's very generous of you Nick," Mom said thankfully. "We'll take you up on your offer."

"But Mom..."

I was afraid for her. Those people sounded scary. I never thought anyone like that could possibly exist outside of books and movies.

"She needs to do this CeeCee," Mark interrupted me. Turning to Mom he said, "I want to go with you."

I could tell Mom's first instinct was to say no, but she thought better of it and nodded her head.

"Yes I think that would be best."

"Mom," tears filled my eyes...I wasn't as dehydrated as I had been.

Mom pulled me toward her and hugged me close.

"I'll be fine, CeeCee. I don't like the idea of leaving you alone at the apartment, though."

She glanced over at Nick.

"Don't worry, Allison," Nick grinned wickedly at me, "I'm sure CeeCee and I will be able to find something to do."

"Nick!"

Mom sounded shocked, and I glanced at her in surprise.

"We'll play cards or monopoly or something equally innocuous," he assured her.

"I'm not sure..." Mom began.

"We'll be fine," Nick interrupted impatiently. "I think it's time for sick little girls to go to bed. CeeCee's eyelids are beginning to droop."

As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. I was feeling worn out. I nodded at Mom and Mark helped me off the couch. I gave him a weak hug—it was all I could manage—before heading into the bathroom. He waited for me to come out and then tucked me into bed like I was five years old again.

"I'm glad you're back," I whispered.

"I'm glad to be back," he responded softly.

He kissed me on the forehead, turned out the light, and shut the door firmly behind him. They were going to talk, most likely about me, and didn't want to be overheard. I was too tired to care.

Sleep came easily.

Chapter 25

Dear Diary,

And back to school...

CeeCee

Mark and Nick stayed the weekend, sharing the sleeper sofa Mom had purchased. I felt for them, it couldn't have been comfortable. I would have offered them my room but I only had a twin bed, and I doubted that they would have let me in any case. Neither had thought about bringing the inflatable mattress Nick had used before as it had been a spur of the moment trip for both of them, and so they suffered in silence.

Because I had fallen asleep so quickly, I had no idea how long the rest of them stayed up but, apparently, it was long enough to make firm plans for the following weekend. If it hadn't been for me, I knew Mom and Mark would have gone right away to confront Laticia's parents in Austin, but they couldn't very well take me in the shape I was in, and leaving me with Nick was out of the question. For a day, maybe, but overnight...so it was decided that Mom and I would head that way the next weekend on Friday, after school, which coincided with the beginning of spring break.

Nick planned to pick me up from his and Mark's apartment that Saturday morning and take me to his parents' house for the day while Mom and Mark paid their visit to Mom's old acquaintances. I was relieved. There was no telling what stupid thing I might do if Nick and I were to stay alone together all day at the apartment.

Mom and Mark planned to join us that evening for supper since Nick's mom was going to cook a big meal for all of us. Nick said his dad and all three of his brothers would be there, and I had to admit I was nervous about meeting his whole family.

Mark and Nick kept an eye on me on Saturday while Mom went to the grocery store to stock up on some things for me to eat since I was starting back on solid foods. There weren't many foods I could tolerate...mostly scrambled eggs and toast and one of my all time favorites: tomato soup—made with milk, not water—and Zesta saltines crumbled into it.

Nick informed me that I would be taking naps twice a day, and for once I didn't argue.

Man, he's bossy, I thought grumpily as I drifted off, but I knew he was right...again

That irked me even more.

Saturday evening all four of us played spades. Mom and I were partners, but we were totally outclassed. I would have thought we'd be the perfect partners, Mom always tended to overbid, while I was more likely to underbid, but we went set more often than not. To be fair, Mom was a bit distracted and played a few hands totally wrong. We were good losers though, and there was a lot of laughter. I hadn't laughed that much in a long time.

Felicia called during the game to check on me. I told her I wasn't going to be allowed to go to church, but she could come visit me afterwards. We hadn't seen each other since Thursday, the day I had passed out, but she'd called every day to check on me. She wanted to come in the afternoon so we made plans for her to visit around four o'clock.

After the last hand, I went to the bathroom and then straight to bed, leaving the rest of them still deciding who should go to church and who should stay home with me as I closed my bedroom door. I'd futilely tried to convince them I was fine by myself, but none of them would listen to me so I'd finally given up.

Let them duke it out, I thought wearily as I fell asleep.

When I awoke on Sunday morning it was late, already ten o'clock and I wondered groggily which prison guard I had. My guess was that it would be Mom. She had the advantage of being the Mom and a female. The guys could hardly argue with the fact that I might need some embarrassing type of help at some point of the morning. I planned to take a shower, and I had no desire to have one of them coming to my aid if I passed out or something. I found it amusing that they were arguing over getting to stay with me instead of being able to escape. Some people were just gluttons for punishment.

I gathered my stuff together and headed to the bathroom. Mom stood at the stove with her back to me and it smelled like she was in the middle of cooking lunch.

Even though I usually took cool, quick showers, I stayed under the spray until I had used every bit of hot water available. By the time I got out of the bathroom, it was already 11 o'clock.

After dropping off my things in the bedroom, I went out to visit with Mom before the others got back. Neither of us wanted to discuss anything too emotional, but I wanted to feel her out about my going to school the next day. I brought it up while I was eating the scrambled eggs and toast she had all ready for me.

"I'm not sure you're ready to go back to school," Mom said doubtfully.

"What if I just go to the classes that I have before lunch?" I asked reasonably. "Those are my important ones then, and I don't want to fall behind."

"That's true, I could bring you home at lunch and you could nap."

I was making headway.

"Or Felicia could bring me home," I suggested, "Since we have the same lunch period. We're only a few blocks from the school," I reminded her, although I knew better than to suggest I walk home.

Even I admitted I didn't have the strength or stamina for that.

"Felicia is a possibility," Mom agreed.

"I only have Economics, a free period, and Track in the afternoon so I won't be missing much," I reassured her. "Felicia and I have Economics together so I can use her notes to keep up."

Felicia usually used my notes, but I hoped the teacher might consider letting her use something to record the lecture. I didn't want to flunk anything in the last two months of school and Felicia's notes usually left a lot to be desired.

"You can try a half day tomorrow," Mom said reluctantly, "But I will drive you to school and bring you home at lunch. If you aren't doing well, I will take a half sick day and stay home with you."

"Sounds good to me," I nodded.

"If you start feeling badly, go straight to the nurse's office and have her call me out of class," Mom said firmly. "I don't want you overdoing it."

"Who's overdoing it?" Mark asked walking in on the last part of Mom's sentence.

"I told CeeCee she could try a half day tomorrow if she promises not to overdo it," Mom enlightened him.

"It's too soon," Nick said flatly.

"I'll be fine," I lifted my chin defiantly.

I knew he would object...that was why I'd wanted to have the conversation over with before they returned from church.

"I'm with Nick on this one," Mark agreed.

Great, now they're ganging up on me.

I could tell Mom was already changing her mind about letting me go.

I didn't even bother to try masking the frustrated sound that escaped me. With a glare that included both of them, I huffed off to my room, slamming the door behind me.

"Well, she seems to be almost back to normal." I heard Nick say in a loud voice—no doubt wanting me to hear him—followed by the sound of laughter.

Angrily putting on my headphones, I cranked the music up and threw myself down on my bed, regretting it instantly as my head began pounding immediately. I must have drifted off because when I woke up, Felicia was sitting on the end of my bed watching me.

I sat up with a start asking, "What time is it?" and then closed my eyes and held my head between my hands until the exploding lights stopped.

"Are you okay?" Felicia asked anxiously.

"Fine," I replied through gritted teeth. After a moment, I was able to resume some semblance of normality. "What time did you say it was?"

"It's after four, sleepyhead," she answered smiling and obviously relieved I was all right. "You looked like you needed the rest, so I didn't want to wake you."

"Where are Nick and Mark," I asked in a panicked voice.

"They left a couple of hours ago," Felicia said sympathetically. "Your mom said they peeked in on you, but decided to let you sleep."

"Oh," I knew I sounded disappointed but I couldn't help it. "I wanted a chance to make up for being angry with them earlier."

Laughingly Felicia said, "Surely they're used to that by now."

"Probably," I admitted trying not to smile. "I'm doing better, though."

"Oh, how's that?" she asked disbelievingly.

"I only exploded once in the three days they were here," I said virtuously. "That's good for me."

"Very true," Felicia agreed. "So your Mom said you weren't going back to school yet."

Felicia jumped as a laugh burst out of me.

Mom knocked on the door asking, "Are you alright in there?"

"Fine, Mom," I answered quickly.

"Okay, but now that you're awake you need to eat and drink something," she reminded me.

"We'll be right out," I assured her.

"Are you going to explain your psychotic episode or do I have to guess?" Felicia asked eyeing me suspiciously.

"Sorry," I said apologetically. "That's what I got angry about." Felicia looked more confused than ever. "I had Mom all convinced to let me go to school tomorrow for the first half of the day until Nick and Mark got home from church. Now I'm stuck here all day. I have no idea why I laughed when actually I find it extremely depressing."

I strongly suspected it was more of a hysterical reaction than anything.

"At the risk of incurring the wrath of CeeCee I have to say I agree with them," Felicia said cautiously. I frowned at her and she continued quickly, "According to your mom they used the term 'dead to the world' to describe you when they looked in on you and you weren't much better when I got here a couple of hours later."

"I was tired," I admitted grudgingly. "It doesn't take much to wear me out."

"I'm sorry I wasn't much help..." Felicia began.

"Don't you start, too," I interrupted her abruptly. "This whole thing was my fault, and there was nothing anyone could have done to prevent it. I just let things get to me and gave up for a while. I won't let it happen again. Believe me, I've learned my lesson."

"I know you were trying to spare my feelings by not talking about Mark too much," Felicia confessed, "and I was selfish enough to let you get away with it, but I should have done something."

"Listen, Felicia," I began reluctantly, wanting to tell her enough to prevent her from feeling guilty, but not sure how much I could handle, "Mark was only a small part of what happened to me."

"Nick?" she asked with immediate understanding.

I nodded, "I wish I could say it was just a crush and dismiss it, but I can't."

"Is it...are you...do you love him?" she asked in amazement.

Miserably I nodded, looking down at the bed, unable to meet her eyes, not wanting her to see the tears in mine.

"And he...how does he feel?" Felicia asked hesitantly.

"He's in love with someone else," I answered as bravely as I could. "So that's that," I finished firmly wiping the tears with both hands. "I better go eat something before Mom comes in here ready to do battle."

I looked up then, attempting a smile.

"Are you sure?" Felicia asked perplexed. "I could have sworn..."

"I'm positive," I stated emphatically, "I overheard a conversation I wasn't supposed to hear."

The sympathy in Felicia's eyes was nearly my undoing.

Standing up, I said briskly, "Let's go eat, I'm starved...hmm, poor choice of words considering my condition."

I attempted a half-hearted laugh, but Felicia didn't join in, silently following me from the room.

Chapter 26

Dear Diary,

Nick's family is cool.

CeeCee

Although I would have never admitted it to anyone, least of all to Nick, it was probably a good thing I stayed home on Monday. I slept a good part of the day, and felt much improved by the time Mom got home from school in the afternoon. She checked on me at lunch but, apparently, I was 'dead to the world' again.

I wished people would stop using that phrase to describe me...it was beginning to creep me out.

Mom agreed that I could go back to school on Wednesday if I felt up to it. I snidely wondered if she had called Nick to make sure it was okay with him, but I kept my uncharitable thoughts to myself knowing she didn't need anymore grief from me.

Guess I was starting to feel more normal because I was having a few anger issues again, mostly with Nick and his propensity for being bossy and right at the same time. It irritated the dog—or whatever the appropriate animal was—out of me. I was sure Nick would know, being Mr. Know-It-All, but I wasn't about to ask him.

I promised Mom I would eat three square meals, although why anyone would describe a meal as square was beyond me, and drink two quarts of water a day. If I concentrated on that and school to the exclusion of everything else, I might even be able to make it to the end of the school year without hurting myself or anyone else.

Felicia brought my schoolwork to the apartment on Tuesday after school and we did our homework together. She agreed to pick me up the next morning for school. Even though the apartment complex where we lived was only a few blocks from the school, Mom adamantly refused to let me walk that far.

I wondered desolately whether I would ever be able to run again. My own stupidity had taken the only avenue of escape that I'd ever had away from me. Desperately, I fought off the wave of depression that swept over me at the thought, determined not to let it get the better of me. My fight against depression was going to be an uphill battle, but I resolved not to give in to it.

Wednesday morning went fairly well and although I received a lot of curious looks, I made it through all four of my morning classes without a problem. I waited for Mom outside her classroom as soon as the lunch bell rang, limp as a wet rag.

Although she allowed Felicia to drive me to school each morning after insuring I ate a good breakfast, Mom insisted on taking me home at noon so she could keep an eye on me and make sure I didn't skip lunch. After feeding me and extracting my promise to go straight to bed, she would returned to school. I knew I deserved her distrust, had earned it, so I didn't argue. I was just glad to be out of the apartment for part of the day.

Thursday was a carbon copy of Wednesday. After my afternoon nap, Felicia dropped by so we could finish our homework. Once Mom got home from school, Felicia left for her own house, and Mom fixed and watched me eat my third meal of the day.

I felt like I was in a fish bowl with everybody gathering around straining to get a view of the fish wondering if it would sink or swim...or maybe float to the top belly up. It was an unpleasant experience, which I knew would drive me totally nuts. As a measure of prevention, it would have been hard to beat, convincing me that I should never allow myself to get into that kind of shape again.

The official word at school was that I had overexerted myself trying to get into shape for the track season and hadn't been eating or drinking enough and I supposed some people believed it. However, the general theme of most of the rumors circulating seemed to be focused around the idea that I was anorexic.

Felicia alone knew the truth, but I realized I'd have to deal with Michael sooner or later. Sure enough, he cornered me Friday after school and asked pointblank what was going on.

"And don't try that 'I'm fine' business with me," he said angrily. "You're obviously not fine and I don't buy any of the stories I'm being fed by gossiping classmates."

"I'm sorry, Michael, but I don't have time right now to talk," I said hurriedly grabbing my books out of my locker and slamming it shut.

Michael caught my arm in a viselike grip, turning me to face him.

"You haven't been right since Christmas and like a fool I let you push me away instead of forcing you to tell me what's going on. That's not happening this time."

"I'm sorry," I shrugged helplessly. "I know it was wrong of me, and I promise we'll talk, but I really don't have time right now."

He eyed me suspiciously for a moment and then released my arm sighing in resignation.

"I plan on holding you to your promise," he warned.

I nodded briefly as I turned towards the Home Economics department to meet Mom.

Any other day, I might have worried about what I was going to say to him, but I was too nervous. Mom and I planned to leave for Austin as soon as she got home from school, and the following day she and Mark planned to confront her 'old friends'.

As if that weren't nerve-racking enough, I had to spend Saturday with Nick's family and I was all kinds of stressed wondering what they would think of me. I had no idea what Nick had told them.

Felicia didn't stay on Friday, just stopping by long enough to let me know we didn't have any homework in the one important class I was missing in the afternoon, and then zooming off to get ready for her date that night. Since it was the start of spring break, only our Spanish teacher had given us homework.

I was packed and ready by the time Mom showed up. We decided to get on the road and pick up something to eat at a drive thru on the way out of town for supper. We grabbed a couple of burritos and Mom ordered me a large lemonade. By the time we were clear of the Metroplex, I was stuffed, had downed more than half of the lemonade, and my eyes were drooping. I'd thought it would be okay to skip my nap, but I was wrong.

The next thing I knew we'd stopped and Mom was gently shaking me awake. As I forced my eyes open, I recognized the parking lot of Mark's apartment complex from my last unfortunate visit.

I couldn't believe we were already there. I had only been asleep for a few minutes, or at least it felt like it, and I couldn't seem to wake up.

My eyes had trouble focusing, but I could make out two rather large figures walking towards us before my eyes closed again. I managed to force them back open, but I was so tired I barely acknowledged Mark and Nick and, even though I heard conversation going on around me, I could only make out bits and pieces. My eyelids were so heavy; I finally gave up fighting sleep, ready to spend the night in the car, and let my eyes stay blissfully closed.

Hmm, Nick's arms were around me and he was holding me closely to him, whispering how much he loved me in my ear. I was nuzzling the side of his neck like I had before, but this time he wasn't pushing me away, wasn't jumping as if scorched. Instead, he was pulling me ever closer...closer...until our bodies were...

"CeeCee..."

"Hmmm..." I sighed as slowly returned to consciousness.

I felt deliciously warm and comfortable as Nick murmured in my ear. Snuggling deeper under the blankets, I started to drift off again, happier than I'd been in a long time.

"CeeCee!"

The voice in my ear was Nick all right, but something was wrong. It didn't have anything like a loving tone in it by any stretch of the imagination. Instead, he sounded...impatient.

The illusion dissipated as reality took over. I moaned "No" as I pulled the covers up over my head and tried to go back to sleep. It had been a dream. Of course it had. Things like that didn't happen in real life...in my life anyway.

"CeeCee!"

There was definitely an edge to his voice. That part was real.

Suddenly, I had no more blankets.

"Hey, I was using those," I complained loudly grabbing at them.

"Get out of bed," he ordered. "Mom will be waiting lunch for us."

"Lunch...?" I asked in confusion, my eyes popping open.

"You slept more than twelve hours," he informed me, "Which wouldn't have happened if you'd taken your afternoon nap yesterday like you were supposed to."

"Stop treating me like a child," I muttered angrily.

"Then stop acting like one," Nick replied testily.

I glared at him through sleep-blurred eyes.

"In case you haven't noticed, your sullen looks have no effect on me," he said as he turned to leave. "You have twenty minutes," he threw over his shoulder as he left the room, closing the door behind him.

"Dictator!" I yelled after him and thought I heard a chuckle coming from the other side of the door.

Looking around the room, I had no clue where I was or how I'd gotten there, although I was fairly certain it had to be either Mark or Nick's room. I didn't even remember getting undressed for bed, but I must have unless Mom had done it for me.

Please let it be Mark's room, I prayed fervently.

I had no idea why that was important to me, but it was. Desperately seeking out clues, I searched the walls and furniture trying to find anything I recognized. There wasn't much, but with a sigh of relief I noticed two picture frames propped up on the dresser.

Getting out of bed, I padded over for a closer look. The pictures were of our family, all four of us, the only two family portraits that I ever remembered having taken. I'd been in fifth grade for the first one and Mark a freshman in high school. We all looked so incredibly happy.

I picked up the more current one, taken during my eighth grade year. Mom had insisted on having us all sit for it before Mark left for college. I felt the sting of tears and, carefully replacing the frame on the dresser, took a couple of deep breaths hoping to keep them in check.

Glancing at my watch, I noticed that I had already used up almost five of my allotted twenty minutes, and I hadn't even gotten into the shower yet. I found my suitcase sitting next to the door, picked it up and cautiously peeked out into the living area.

There wasn't time to open the case up and try to figure out what all I would need to take to the bathroom with me so, not wanting to forget anything, I decided to take everything.

I knew Mark's bathroom wasn't connected to his bedroom from the last time I had visited, but I also knew Nick was out there somewhere, and I wanted to avoid him if at all possible.

There was no one out in the living area, so I ducked quickly into the bathroom.

I would have used the rest of my fifteen minutes in the shower if I could have, it felt so good, but I knew Nick meant what he said: twenty minutes. He would drag me kicking and screaming out the door if need be. I wasn't going to risk it.

Combing out my long, wet hair took up most of the rest of my time. I put it up in its customary ponytail and threw on some jeans and a sea green sleeveless blouse, pleased that I hadn't taken anymore time than I was allowed.

Although it would have been easier to have short hair, I couldn't bring myself to have it cut. I complained about it being in the way at times, but secretly I loved the feel of having long hair. Not being the frilly type didn't necessarily mean I didn't enjoy being feminine.

Putting my suitcase back in Mark's room, I jumped at the voice behind me.

"Not bad, only three minutes over the time limit."

I whirled around to see Nick leaning on the doorjamb.

"You'd think I'd be used to you sneaking up on me by now," I retorted acerbically.

"It's not my fault you're oblivious to everything around you," he commented. "You look much better now by the way."

"Gee thanks," I replied trying to hide my embarrassment at how awful I knew I'd looked earlier.

Staring at myself in the bathroom mirror, I had been mortified at my appearance. My hair was all over the place, my eyes were sleep encrusted, and there had been a line on my face where I must have been sleeping on a wrinkle in the pillowcase.

At least I hadn't drooled, or not that I'd noticed. I consoled myself with the thought that he never saw me as anything more than a child anyway and, although it wasn't much consolation, it was all I had.

"Anytime," he grinned straightening up. "Ready?"

"I guess," I replied nervously.

"There's no reason to be nervous," his grin widened. "My mom's dying to meet you."

"After all of the things I'm sure you've told her about me do you blame me for being a little anxious?" I asked accusingly.

"I've only told her good things," he assured me. "Scouts honor," he promised holding up three fingers.

"Were you really a boy scout?" I asked suspiciously.

"No," he admitted hanging his head in mock shame, "you got me."

I laughed, just as he knew I would, and he joined in.

We made our way out to his pickup and he helped me up into the seat before walking around to the driver's side. I wondered idly as I watched him if he automatically helped every female into a vehicle or if it was just me because I was either wearing the wrong type of clothing, deathly ill, or seriously injured every time I rode with him.

I'll probably never have the opportunity to find out, I thought sighing heavily.

"I should have made you eat breakfast," Nick said as soon as he got in, "but Mom promised to have lunch ready as soon as we walk in the door."

"How long does it take to get there?"

"About thirty minutes on the weekend."

I knew what he meant. During the week, the workday traffic in the Metroplex could double and even triple the time it took to get anywhere. I doubted it was any better in Austin.

"What's your mom like?"

"She's very outgoing and outspoken," Nick answered and then laughingly added, "Most people think I take after her."

"Oh, surely not," I said facetiously, "You...outspoken? I'm shocked...shocked I tell you!"

"Very funny," he returned dryly.

"Sorry," I grinned unrepentantly, "Please continue."

He gave me an old-fashioned look, "Okay, but no more comments from the peanut gallery."

"I make no promises."

"I think you should meet her and see for yourself," he decided, "safer that way, for me at least, the way you're shooting arrows at me today. You must be feeling better."

"Chicken," I said accusingly. "Okay then, tell me about your dad."

He was silent for a moment then said, "Dad is a quiet, kind, thoughtful man. At least that's how I usually hear him described by other people."

I couldn't resist, I knew I shouldn't say it, but controlling my tongue was beyond me for some reason.

"Wow, you really do take after your mom."

"And you had better watch your back today," he warned. "I intend to have the last laugh."

"Oooh, I'm scared," I shivered in mock fear.

Or maybe some of it was real. It was stimulating to be sure. I never teased like that with anyone other than Mark, and it was...fun.

"As you should be," he said approvingly.

"If I swear to make no more obnoxious comments will you tell me about your brothers?" I asked trying hard to behave. "I don't really know anything but their names and ages."

He glanced at me suspiciously.

"I'm not sure you can refrain from commenting on anything I say today," he suppressed a smile. "I've never seen you quite so frisky before."

"You make me sound like a cat," I laughed at the idea. "Do my claws hurt?"

"More like a playful kitten," he amended. "Don't worry I don't mind you sharpening your claws on me. I know how to fend them off."

He laughed aloud at the irritated look on my face. Feeling an unaccustomed twinge of jealousy, I wondered just how many female claws he'd fended off. I pushed that thought out of my mind ruthlessly. I couldn't go down that path.

"So, about your brothers...?" I prompted.

"Oh no you don't," he shook his head. "You'll just have to meet everyone and form your own opinions. We're almost there anyway."

I looked around, but had no idea where we were. Once we'd left I35, I was lost. I noticed that it was beautiful country...very green.

"They live out in the country?"

"My grandfather had a ranch out here," Nick explained, "but Dad, being an animal lover, didn't want to breed cattle to sell for slaughter so he became a vet instead. He sold off most of the acreage, keeping just enough to have space for his practice and some horses."

"You have horses?"

"Only four at the moment," he answered. "Mom and Dad never replaced theirs when they died, but David and Josh each have one and they take care of mine and Daniel's for us since we're not home." He paused then asked, "Do you ride?"

"I've never been on a horse before," I admitted. "They're so big I think I'd be scared."

"I could teach you."

I wanted so much to be able to say yes, but I knew I wouldn't be around to keep it up, besides the fact that spending that much time with him would be stupid.

My heart ached.

We rounded a curve and a house came into view.

Thankful for the distraction I asked eagerly, "Is that it?"

"Yes it is," I could hear the pride in his voice, "at the risk of sounding corny, welcome to the Barrett Ranch."

"It's beautiful."

I wasn't exaggerating; it was perfect.

The house was a white two story with a wrap-around porch and dark red tin roof. White fencing was everywhere and contrasted perfectly with the flawlessly manicured green grass.

Over to one side was a low roofed white stucco building with a roof that matched the roof of the house and in front of it a sign that read "Barrett Veterinarian Clinic". Beyond the clinic was a monstrously large metal barn...its color perfectly matching the two tin roofs. As we drove past one of the white fenced fields, I noticed four horses grazing.

My mouth dropped open. The whole scene was like a picture postcard.

Nick pulled up in front of the house and turned to look at me, suppressing a smile.

"What do you think?"

I was speechless. All I could do was shake my head in amazement.

"It didn't always look like this," he said reminiscently. "My brothers and I put in a lot of back breaking labor replacing all the old fencing. Thankfully this fencing doesn't require any painting."

"You did all of this yourself?"

"Being the oldest, Dad put me in charge. According to my brothers I am a ruthless dictator," he said ruefully, "So you and my brothers already have something in common...your opinion of me."

My door flew open and I gasped in surprise as I looked around.

"CeeCee," two voices shouted gleefully pulling me from the truck.

"Be careful," Nick warned, "I told you she hasn't been well."

"Lighten up Nick," one of the boys replied.

"Yeah you're worse than an old mother hen," the other chimed in.

I laughed—I couldn't help it—at the buoyancy of the two pulling me out of the pickup who were no doubt the twins, David and Josh. I would never be able to tell them apart. They were identical.

Nick appeared beside me to introduce us.

"These uncontrollable idiots are David and Josh," Nick said in exasperation indicating each one in turn. "You can let go of her arms, she isn't going anywhere."

"We want to take her to see our horses," the one Nick had pointed out as David said eagerly.

"Yeah, maybe she could go riding with us," Josh added.

Even though there was only a two-year difference in our ages, they seemed so...young. The boys were a couple of inches taller than my 5'8," but as thin as a rail...or two rails in their case.

I smiled at their little boy excitement. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt any type of childlike thrill. My smile faded just a bit as I felt a strange hollow feeling in my stomach at the thought. Nick noticed the change in my facial features right away of course.

Taking my arm and leading me away from the twins, amidst their objections, he called over his shoulder, "First we feed her."

"Lunch!" the boys exclaimed simultaneously following us into the house.

The front hallway was a little dark after the brightness of the day, and it took a minute for my eyes to adjust. By the time I could see again, we were already past the entry way and making our way through a gorgeous dining room with an amazing crystal chandelier hanging down from a box ceiling over a set of rich looking mahogany table and chairs.

I didn't have much time to take anything else in before we entered the largest kitchen I had ever seen in my life...my mom's dream kitchen.

The woman at the sink turned with a welcoming smile on her face. She was about Mom's age, a bit older, but that was where the resemblance ended. I could see where Nick had gotten his sandy brown hair and golden brown eyes.

"CeeCee," I was quickly enveloped in a hug. She smelled pleasantly of vanilla. "I am so thrilled to finally get to meet you."

She held me slightly away from her keeping a firm grip on my shoulders. We were almost eye-to-eye.

"Let me look at you. Such gorgeous green eyes, but you've lost weight," she shook her head at me. "We'll have to see what we can do about that."

"How...?" I began.

"Oh, I've seen pictures of course," she explained as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Now, come sit," she pulled me over to the massive table in the middle of the kitchen. "Everything is ready, oh, and your dad said not to wait lunch for him," she said turning to Nick and his brothers. "He didn't know how long he would be. Someone showed up with a hurt dog, so he's out in the clinic taking care of it."

David and Josh sat on each side of me, and my stomach lurched as I saw Nick frowning slightly at them. If only his expression meant he wanted to sit next to me...I quickly squashed that thought.

"David, it's your turn," Mrs. Barrett said as we all joined hands.

David led a prayer and as soon as he was finished, Mrs. Barrett began filling my plate for me.

"Do you like potato salad? How about some of this coleslaw? Here is a nice piece of ham for you."

She kept up a running commentary as she helped me fill my plate, and it was all I could do to nod or shake my head. I wasn't a picky eater, but I really disliked beans of any kind so when she offered me the baked beans I shook my head so violently it made me dizzy.

"Mom, I think she has plenty now," Nick said with an amused smile.

"I gave you ice water, since Nick said that was your favorite thing to drink, but I have tea or milk or soda, whatever you would like," Nick's mom said anxiously.

"I'm good, thanks," I smiled. "Everything smells wonderful."

I was starving, so I picked up my fork and took a bite of potato salad. Closing my eyes, I savored the taste. It was so good and I hadn't eaten since the burrito the night before. I opened them to find everyone except Nick staring anxiously at me.

"Is something wrong?" I asked worriedly.

Was I not supposed to eat yet? Did I have food on my face? What?

Nick laughed, "Everything's fine. I come from a long line of worry warts...it runs in the family."

At my confused look he continued, "My family is concerned about you. You'll just have to put up with it for the day."

I smiled in relief, glad I hadn't committed some type of faux pas.

"I would hate to abuse your hospitality by passing out or dying or anything like that while I'm here," I said gravely. "I'll try to wait until tomorrow. That would be the polite thing to do."

I immediately wondered if I should have waited to reveal my warped sense of humor until they knew me better. David and Josh finally figured out I was joking and burst into laughter. Mrs. Barrett smiled, glad she hadn't offended me, while Nick rolled his eyes at me. I would have stuck my tongue out at him, but I didn't want to give Mrs. Barrett the wrong impression...or maybe the right one.

David and Josh vied for my attention during the whole meal. I didn't have to say much, just respond appropriately, reminiscent of my conversations with Michael. That I could handle.

"You all look like pigs at feeding time," a pleasantly deep voice interrupted us.

"Jonathan," Mrs. Barrett said with obvious pleasure. "How's the dog?"

"He'll be fine," Mr. Barrett came over and kissed his wife on the top of her head. "Had a thorn in his paw the owner couldn't get out. Don't get up, I'm going upstairs to wash up and then I'll be down to eat. You must be CeeCee," he smiled at me.

"Nice to meet you Mr. Barrett," I said smiling politely in his direction.

"Don't let those two talk your arm off," he nodded to the twins.

"Too late," Nick assured him. "The one they didn't talk off they pulled off earlier fighting over her. You'll have to reattach them both later."

David and Josh howled with laughter; I could see they were easily amused. Sighing wistfully, I knew I would trade places with them in an instant. They loved life and found joy in everything. I was envious.

"He's just jealous because CeeCee likes us better than him," David informed his dad, eyeing Nick mischievously.

"I might be jealous," Nick replied loftily, "If it were true."

My heart, which had begun doing flip-flops at his first statement, sank to my feet once I realized he was just teasing his brothers. I looked down at my plate, knowing I couldn't let anyone in the Barrett family see tears, ever.

Mr. Barrett left the room as the phone rang.

"Could you get that Nick?" his mother asked.

"No problem," Nick got up and walked over to the kitchen phone.

The twins were fighting over which of them I liked best, so thinking I was safe I glanced up to watch Nick and my gaze locked with Mrs. Barrett's who was eyeing me speculatively. As soon as our eyes met, I quickly lowered mine to my plate.

I had a feeling she was too perceptive; I would need to be careful around her.

"Are you through, CeeCee," David asked a little impatiently.

"Yeah, we want to introduce you to our babies," Josh agreed.

"You have babies?" I asked bewildered, but glad for the distraction.

"Our horses silly," David teased.

"Yeah silly," Josh repeated.

I could see that David was the leader and Josh the little follower and since I had never known any twins before, I found them to be highly entertaining. Nick came back to the table the same time his dad reappeared.

"Who was on the phone," Mr. Barrett asked seating himself.

"Daniel," Nick replied, "He's only about five minutes away.

"Oh wonderful," Mrs. Barrett clasped her hands together. "Has he had lunch?" she asked, getting up from the table.

"No," Nick grinned, "He told me to be sure you set a place for him."

"Aw, do we have to stay here and wait for him?" David asked in a whiny tone.

"Yeah, do we?" Josh seconded.

I revised my earlier thought and decided that after a while their twin act was going to get old.

"No you don't," Mr. Barrett said kindly. As they jumped up and started to grab my arms he added, "But you will leave CeeCee here. I haven't had a chance to talk to her yet."

The twins sat back down deflated.

I smiled at Mr. Barrett gratefully, careful not to let the twins see my relief. Mr. Barrett winked at me covertly. He was exactly as Nick had described him, a kind, considerate man, and Nick looked so much like him that my heart swelled with emotion. He may have his mother's hair and eyes, but he had inherited his father's size, build, and good looks.

"So you're Mark's sister," he searched my face. "You don't look anything alike."

"No," I sighed in resignation, "Mark inherited Mom's looks and I got Dad's."

He leaned toward me conspiratorially, his dark brown eyes looking into mine and whispered, "I'm rather partial to green eyes."

Sitting back in his chair, he began filling his plate.

"Anybody home?" a faint voice called from the front of the house.

"Daniel," Mrs. Barrett started to get up from the table.

"Lydia," Mr. Barrett said mildly, "Your plate's still full. Are you planning to eat?"

"Oh, who needs to eat with so much excitement going on?"

She stopped short and there was a shocked silence at the table as they all realized what she had said and were watching me to see how I would take it. Desperate to relieve the tension, I glanced around the table and slowly raised my hand in the air smiling, as if in answer to her rhetorical question.

Daniel walked in and asked "Did somebody die or something."

Lowering my hand I said, "No, I promised I wouldn't do that until tomorrow."

The twins were the first to burst out laughing, followed quickly by everyone else with the exception of Daniel who stood in the doorway wondering if we had all gone stark raving mad.

Mrs. Barrett hugged Daniel and led him to his seat between Nick and Mr. Barrett. The twins spent their time trying to explain the laughter to Daniel and Mr. Barrett since he hadn't been there for my first lame attempt at a joke. Mrs. Barrett tried to apologize to me for her comment, but I just shook my head and told her I wasn't that easily offended.

She smiled and tried valiantly to eat something off her plate.

Her whole family was together and anyone watching her could see the happiness shining out of her eyes. Food could wait. I so wished Mom could look like that again. I felt the familiar lump in my throat at that thought and knew I wouldn't be able to eat anymore.

Thankfully, Daniel distracted me. He had managed to fill his plate and eat part of it in between everyone talking to him at once—I gathered that he hadn't been home in a few weeks—and decided it was his turn to ask questions.

"CeeCee," I was startled hearing my name from an unfamiliar voice. "I've heard so much about you over the years, I feel like I already know you."

I looked into his dark brown eyes, inherited from his father, and smiled at him.

"Mark's told us a lot about you, too."

Mark had known Daniel quite a while before meeting Nick.

"I'm really sorry about introducing him to Laticia," Daniel looked pained. "I had no idea..."

"You know Laticia?" I asked in a shocked voice.

"No one told you?" the surprise in his voice obvious.

"I live on a need to know basis," I grimaced. "Too much information isn't always a good thing."

"I can understand that," Daniel said sympathetically.

"How did you meet Laticia?"

"We were in high school together...although we didn't really know each other," he grinned. "She was a member of the rich and snobby society besides being younger than me. I didn't even realize she knew who I was," he admitted puzzled.

"I'm certain that Laticia's family researched Mark thoroughly enough to have found the connection between you two and it would have been a very short jump to investigate you and exploit the tenuous connection she had with you from high school in order to make it appear a casual meeting instead of the planned one it obviously was," Nick concluded.

"What a monster!" Mrs. Barrett exclaimed in horror.

"I just want you to know we all tried to talk some sense into him," Daniel said. "Mark told me how close you two have always been; I'm sorry it was so hard on you."

"It's not your fault," I wasn't going to add another person to the growing list of people who wanted to take the blame for my idiocy. "I honestly didn't realize what I was doing to myself. You can ask Nick, I don't always pay attention to important things."

"She does seem to live in the state of oblivion more than anyone else I have ever met," Nick concurred with an amused look on his face.

"And here I thought you were from the state of Texas," Daniel shook his head.

Predictably, the twins howled with laughter.

"Well, I think it's time for dessert," Mrs. Barrett said, changing the subject.

She brought out a chocolate meringue pie first. My eyes were wide. I looked up to find Nick watching me. He nodded at the question in my eyes.

I mouthed the words, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he mouthed back smiling.

"CeeCee, you get the first piece since you're company and this is your favorite," Mrs. Barrett put a large piece on a dessert plate and handed it to me.

"Thanks," I said as I took the plate.

"Hey, do the rest of us get anything?" David demanded.

"Yeah," Josh seconded, "we want some dessert."

"I thought you were through eating," Mr. Barrett couldn't resist teasing them.

They rolled their collective eyes at him.

I concentrated on eating my piece of pie, afraid to look up in case anyone noticed I was teary eyed again, and calling myself all kinds of an idiot.

So he had his mom make my favorite type of pie...no biggie. Why was I making such a huge deal about it?

I felt a deep yearning that was becoming all too familiar. I knew it was hopeless, but I couldn't stop myself from wishing he loved me the same way I loved him...I'd even settle for half as much. I forced myself to finish my pie and then asked where the bathroom was, needing desperately to get away from the table.

David triumphantly led me down the hall, making a big production out of being the one I had asked. I probably should have asked Josh because I felt like kicking David in the shin and telling him to pipe down. I didn't think that would go over too well with the family.

When I saw the figure waiting out in the hall for me as I opened the bathroom door my heart jumped, I just knew it was Nick, but instead, Daniel turned around and smiled at me. I tried to keep the disappointment off my face as I smiled back.

"Can we talk?" he asked hesitantly.

"Sure," I replied, frowning at his serious expression.

"Are you up for a short walk?"

"I'm sure I'll manage."

I had to smile at his obvious concern.

Daniel led me out the front door, and we walked down the road toward the horses. When we got to the field where they were grazing, he stopped and leaned on the fence watching them. They started ambling over to us, and I was a little scared—okay, I was thoroughly terrified...never having been that close to one before—so as the horses reached us and put their heads through the fence, I backed off a little.

"It's okay," he reassured me. "They won't hurt you."

He took my hand and placed it between the eyes of one of the horses.

"This is my horse Tex," Daniel said proudly. "He's a Quarter horse."

Tex lifted his head until my hand was close to his nose; it was surprisingly soft and velvety.

"See, they love people."

I giggled in relief. As long as they stayed on their side of the fence, I would be fine.

"CeeCee," Daniel turned towards me and said earnestly, "I feel really horrible about what happened to you. I wish I could turn back the clock and change what I did, but I can't. If there's anything I can do to make it up to you, I will."

He looked so miserable, I had the sudden urge to give him a hug and console him. Since I didn't know him that well, I settled for taking one of his hands in both of mine.

"Daniel," As usual, I wasn't sure how to say what I needed to say, but I knew I had to say something, "Laticia would have found a way to meet Mark with or without you. What Mark allowed to happen to him was his fault, not yours. What I allowed to happen to me was my fault, not yours, not Mark's, my fault. Hopefully we've both learned from our mistakes and won't make the same ones again." Wanting to lighten the atmosphere, I added mischievously, "But if you insist on reparation, I'll take your first born."

For a moment, there was no response and then Daniel let loose with a loud laugh, as much from relief as humor...I really needed to work on my delivery. Nick and Mark were the only people who ever caught on immediately. I knew I had a warped sense of humor, but what did that say about them, I mused.

"Here come the marines," Daniel muttered under his breath.

Confused, I looked around to see Nick bearing down on us with a scowl on his face. Self-consciously, I realized I was still holding Daniel's hand. I tried to drop it, but Daniel had turned his hand, grabbing both of mine and showed no signs of letting go. I looked up questioningly and saw Daniel wink at me. What was he up to?

"What do you think you're doing?" Nick demanded.

That question sounds vaguely familiar, I thought bemused.

Turning toward him about to answer I realized that he wasn't talking to me.

"We were just taking a little stroll in the moonlight," Daniel said flippantly.

"It's the middle of the afternoon," Nick pointed out sourly.

"Semantics," Daniel replied airily.

"CeeCee get back to the house," Nick ordered. "Mom has a room ready for you."

Usually I would have argued that I wasn't ready for a nap, but one look at Nick's face as he glowered at Daniel was enough to convince me that it wasn't a good time to disagree with him about anything.

"Um...Daniel...I'm kinda gonna need my hands back," I said glancing between the two of them as they glared at each other.

Daniel lifted my hands up to his lips and planted a kiss on the top one, never taking his eyes from Nick's. I gasped aloud. Risking a quick look at Nick, I was surprised there wasn't smoke coming out of his ears. I had never seen his face look so red, the veins bulging on his forehead as his eyes drilled into Daniel's. I practically ran for the house as soon as Daniel released my hands.

Mrs. Barrett stood in the front door as I made the porch. I was out of breath.

"Are you alright my dear?" she asked in alarm.

I nodded, glancing back at Nick and Daniel in concern. I could tell by their body language that they were arguing.

"I'm sorry," I could feel the tears prickling. "I didn't mean to cause trouble between them."

"My boys are always fighting about something," Mrs. Barrett reassured me. "Don't let it bother you. Nick won't hurt him."

"Nick? I thought Daniel was the karate expert," I said in confusion.

"Daniel only started karate because he was trying to keep up with Nick...as usual," she informed me. "I have a bed all ready for you to take a nap. Come with me."

She gently put her arm around my shoulders and led me into the house and up the stairs.

"This is the guest room. The bathroom is through that door. Call me if you need anything." She smiled reassuringly before she left, closing the door behind her.

The beautifully decorated room was a tasteful mix of powder blue with white accents from the blue walls, bedspread, and accent rugs to the white molding, tile floor, and painted wrought iron bed. I found myself wishing Felicia could see it. She loved blue and I was sure it would have been the perfect setting for her.

As much as I hated to mess up the bed, I knew I wouldn't feel comfortable sleeping on top of the bedspread. Taking off my shoes, I gingerly pulled back the coverlet and slipped between the sheets.

Knowing I would never be able to sleep if I dwelled on the scene earlier, I tried desperately to clear my mind. Half an hour later, I was still trying to get to sleep. There was only one thing I could do, even though I was well aware it would make things more painful later. Closing my eyes, I allowed myself to remember...

~ * * ~

"CeeCee," Mom's voice cut through the fogginess in my brain.

"Mom...?" I forced my eyes open. "What time is it?"

"Six, almost time for supper."

"How did it go?" I asked hesitantly, sitting up, not sure if I wanted to know.

"We'll talk about it later," Mom hedged as she walked to the door. "Come on downstairs when you're ready."

That can't be good.

I was beginning to recognize when something was seriously bothering her; something was. I decided to wait and ask Mark. Mom in that type of mood, I was certain, would not be very forthcoming.

Hurriedly, I rushed through my ablutions and made my way downstairs, anxious to talk to Mark.

David and Josh rushed me as soon as I hit the bottom of the stairs and led me to the kitchen, chatting the whole way. They were disappointed that I'd slept so long, but were valiantly trying to hide it. I promised them I would go see their horses after supper, telling them I had already met Tex.

"That's Daniel's horse," David said dismissively. "Ours are much cooler."

"Much cooler," Josh echoed.

I nodded in agreement—although they had all, with the exception of the black one, looked alike to me—not wanting to hurt their feelings.

Mrs. Barrett, with Mom's help, already had supper ready. We were eating in the dining room, but the food was all in the kitchen, buffet style. I was apparently the last arrival, which of course caused guilt feelings, but no one seemed to mind.

"Allison you and CeeCee go first since you're our guests," Mrs. Barrett urged us toward the plates. "Mark has been here so many times he's learned to fight his way through like the rest of the boys."

"I certainly want to be out of their way," Mom agreed teasingly, "they look hungry."

Putting her hand behind my back, Mom urged me forward. Not wanting to hold up the line, I grabbed a plate and started piling it with food. I knew better than to argue with anyone about eating.

Mrs. Barrett handed me a glass of ice water, and directed me to a chair in the dining room. The table had already been set with the silverware and napkins.

Mom sat down beside me, and the rest of the table gradually filled up. I was hoping Mark would sit on my other side so I could quietly ask him some questions while everyone was talking, but to my surprise, Daniel pulled out the chair next to me and sat down.

"You look much better than the last time I saw you," he teased. "Must have needed that long nap you took. David and Josh have been antsy all afternoon waiting for you to wake up."

"Speaking of the last time you saw me," I whispered, "what was that stunt you pulled with the hand kissing?"

Laughing quietly, he whispered back, "A little competition is a healthy thing."

"Well, I'm so glad we got that all cleared up," I hissed at him in irritation.

What was it with Barrett males? All of them were so frustrating.

Except for the dad, I qualified silently.

"Don't look now but big brother is watching," he murmured in my ear.

Nick was indeed watching from across the table with an extremely grim look on his face. I wasn't exactly sure what was going on, but I knew Daniel was egging Nick on, so I whispered back furiously, "Behave your self."

"Aw, don't spoil my fun," he whispered pleadingly. "I've never been able to get under Nick's skin before, I'm rather enjoying it."

That I could understand, but I still hated to see Nick so angry. We were friends after all and it was in his nature to be bossy and overprotective, so I couldn't find it in my heart to fault him for that.

"You'll have to do it alone," I muttered, "because I'm not playing."

The rest of the evening, I tried to avoid Daniel's persistent badgering, but at times, he was so hilarious I burst out laughing; I couldn't help it. Nick hardly said a word all night.

When supper was over, Mom insisted on helping Mrs. Barrett with the dishes while David and Josh drug me out the door to meet their horses, which had been stabled in the barn for the night.

Three gorgeous border collies greeted us as soon as we opened the doors. I fell in love with them immediately. Sam was the normal black and white type of collie, but Missy had gold and white coloring.

The third dog, however, was the most gorgeous dog I'd ever met in my life. David told me her name was Daisy. She had the most beautiful orange-red coloring and was so adorable I couldn't resist burying my hands in her fur.

The twins explained that Nick had mentioned to their parents about Mom's fear of dogs, and so the poor things had been installed in the barn for the duration of our visit. That was considerate of them, but I felt sorry for the dogs.

David and Josh were impatiently waiting for me to meet their horses, but seeing how hesitant I was to leave the dogs, said the 'mutts' could come with us.

I hid a smile. Obviously, the dogs didn't rank nearly as high in their affections as their horses, because I'd never seen any dogs that looked less like mutts.

I had never seen the inside of a real barn and I was amazed at the cleanliness. The horses were in stalls and I spent time with each of them. Both of the twin's horses were Quarter horses like Daniel's, whatever that meant. I knew I'd never be able to tell one type of horse from another.

David's was named Honey and Josh's was named Lady, and the two were determined to tell me everything about them.

I had to admit, I felt more comfortable petting them because Daniel had introduced me to his horse Tex earlier. The twins even let me feed them a treat, which scared me to death, afraid the horses would take my hand off, but I was proud of myself for going through with it.

The black horse, my favorite though I wouldn't have told the twins that, was Nick's and David told me offhandedly that he was named Diablo. He was apparently a thoroughbred and was more 'high strung' than the other horses, although he was apparently mellowing a bit in his old age.

"Wish Nick was," David grumbled.

"Yeah," Josh agreed. "He's no fun when he's being an old mother hen like today."

I must have grown up a lot in the past few months because I found myself totally disagreeing with the twins when not too long ago I would have agreed whole-heartedly.

By the time we got back to the house, it was already dark and Mom and Mark were ready to go. The Barrett family stood on the front porch to see us off...everyone except for Nick. I casually glanced around trying to locate him without seeming to, but he was nowhere to be seen. Everyone else hugged and kissed me goodbye.

"You can stop pretending you're not looking for him," Daniel murmured in my ear as he hugged me with unnecessary force.

"I don't know what you mean," I said haughtily pushing at him ineffectually, still unsure what he was up to, but not about to participate willingly.

Chuckling he kissed me on the forehead.

"I'm sure he's watching, though," he said as he finally allowed me to push him away. "See you tomorrow at church."

He sauntered away whistling, his hands in his front pants pockets while I shook my head in confusion.

I was glad it was dark in the car and that I was sitting in the back seat alone as we drove away. Nick never showed up to say goodbye and I was so upset the tears flowed freely down my cheeks.

Knowing I only had thirty minutes to pull myself together, I closed my eyes and frantically searched for something to take my mind off Nick. I had nothing.

I let the tears flow and managed to get them mopped up as we arrived back at the apartment.

Chapter 27

Dear Diary,

Mom's family is a nightmare!

CeeCee

"Well," I said impatiently, "give."

Mom was already in bed in Mark's room. She'd taken a couple of ibuprofen tablets as soon as we arrived, saying she had a headache, and needed an early night.

Having slept on the couch the night before, apparently not feeling any more comfortable with the idea of using Nick's room than I, Mom finally agreed to take Mark's room. Mark had insisted, realizing that she needed to be alone after the emotionally wearing day she'd been through.

As much as I wanted to, spending the night in Nick's room just didn't feel right so I'd parked myself on the couch as soon as we arrived back at the apartment and stubbornly refused to leave it. Mark continued to try to persuade me to take Nick's bedroom, but I was sure I could convince him that being near the ice and kitchen water was the most important thing for me. Sometimes being the invalid had its advantages.

Mark sat on the couch with me and we spoke as quietly as possible in order to avoid disturbing Mom.

"It wasn't pleasant."

I could tell Mark didn't want to talk about it, but I was determined.

"I didn't think it would be," I replied dismissively. "What happened?" Still he hesitated. "Just give me the highlights, I don't need all the gory details."

"Okay, here it is, Mom confronted Richard and Natalie and discovered that Richard had no idea what his wife and daughter were doing. He's still in love with Mom."

I gasped, "After all this time...?"

I felt a kindred spirit to the unknown Richard. That would be me in twenty years, still in love with the unattainable.

"Yes, and realizing that Mom was a widow, he would have left his wife for her in an instant if she had given him any encouragement, especially after he found out what Natalie and Laticia had been up to."

Mark's face clouded, and I knew he was beating himself up over it again.

"Did he say that in front of his wife?"

"It was no surprise to her, she already knew how Richard felt," Mark looked as stunned as I felt. "The marriage was arranged by their parents after Mom ditched Richard for Dad."

"More arranged marriages," I shook my head. "You'd think it was the dark ages."

"It gets better, or worse, depending on how you look at it. Apparently, Mom's brother Phillip was in on this whole thing from the first. He and Natalie had been having an affair for a long time, and they cooked it up between them knowing that there were no more Tate males left to carry on the lawyer tradition."

Mark shook his head in disbelief. We were both having a hard time believing that people like that existed. I was beginning to understand why Mom had felt the need to protect us from that world.

"But isn't Phillip the one that's married to Natalie's sister?" I asked in confusion.

"Apparently Natalie had been in love with Phillip for years and that was one of the reasons why she pretended to be Mom's friend," Mark said in disgust. "She's the one who told Mom's parents about Dad before Mom was ready. Well, she told Phillip so he could tell his parents. She used it as an excuse to get Phillip alone and that's when their affair began."

Mark shuddered and seemed momentarily at a loss for words.

"So you're telling me that Phillip and Natalie have been sleeping together since before you and I were born?" I asked incredulously. "Did Richard know?"

"He knew when he agreed to marry Natalie," Mark informed me. "He was more than willing to continue his own little exploits on the side to keep him happy."

"They're monsters!"

I had to work to keep my voice down.

"That's not the worst of it," Mark admitted. "Can you guess who Laticia's real father is?"

"You can't be...are you serious? But that would make her our cousin, your cousin. Oh Mark, I am so sorry. You didn't...I mean...nothing...happened did it?"

"No, I didn't sleep with her if that's what your asking," Mark was angry, but not at me. "She tried, thinking that would be the final push that I needed, but I couldn't brush off all of my years of religious beliefs like that, even though I'd stopped going to church."

"But you were planning on marrying her," I said bewildered. "Surely they wouldn't have let things go that far."

"Richard's name was on the birth certificate, not Phillip's, so without a paternity test there was no way anyone would have the slightest idea that we were first cousins."

"She must take after her mother. She doesn't look anything like us."

"Laticia has had so much plastic surgery done to her face as well as other parts of her body that there is no telling what she's supposed to look like. She also inherited her mother's dark coloring, so that didn't cause any speculation. If she had turned out a blonde, Richard would have been suspicious. Natalie and Phillip were the only ones that knew and they wanted us to marry," Mark said in disgust. "Poor Richard, the one time that Natalie seduced him it was because she knew she was pregnant and didn't want him to know whose child it was. It was quite a shocker when Natalie admitted it to him today. In a way, I think he was relieved, though, because he never was able to feel anything for Laticia and had always felt a guilty about that."

"Your children...they could have been..." I couldn't finish my sentence.

"If there had been any obvious problems, Laticia would have had no compunction about aborting them."

I could tell Mark was as horrified by that thought as I was.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered again with tears in my eyes. "I can't believe we're related to those people."

"That's not all," Mark said reluctantly. "Mom's father died a couple of years ago, but her mother is still alive. Mom's siblings put her in a nursing home here in Austin. She...isn't normal."

"What do you mean...isn't normal?"

I wasn't sure I wanted to hear anymore, but I had asked.

"When Mom left Austin with Dad, her mother was devastated. She became almost a recluse, but it happened so gradually, that her husband didn't even notice at first."

He couldn't bring himself to call Mom's father by the title grandfather. I didn't blame him. He was probably the one directly responsible for the warped way his family had turned out.

Mark continued, "She had been quite the socialite and took Mom with her almost everywhere to show her off to everyone. Mom was her pride and joy, her greatest accomplishment in life. When Mom left, she lost the will to live. Mom had no idea. She didn't think her mother had any feelings for her. All she remembers is being dressed up and paraded around like some china doll. Mom's father was all that stood between her and an institution apparently. When he died, both of Mom's siblings decided to put her in a home. Now Mom feels responsible."

"Of course she does," I acknowledged dully. "Mom blames herself for everything. Look how guilty she feels about us."

"We went to visit her today," Mark shuddered again. "She knew her Allison right away, but she thought I was Phillip. Apparently, I look a lot like him. Mom said she and Phillip were her mother's favorites since they both looked like her. She talked the whole time about things that had happened when Mom lived here in Austin as if it was yesterday. It was weird."

"No wonder Mom was over-stimulated at supper," I nodded in understanding. "She was desperate to hide her emotional distress from everyone."

"I offered to bring her back here and skip supper, but she wanted to meet Nick's family," Mark said shaking his head. "She didn't want to disappoint anyone."

"That's Mom," I agreed.

"I believe it's time for you to be asleep," Mark said changing the subject. "You look all in.

"Mrs. Barrett made sure I took a nap this afternoon, but I have to admit, I'm beat," I agreed.

"It would make me feel better if you took the bedroom," Mark insisted walking into the kitchen and pulling an empty container out of one of the cupboards. "I'll make sure to leave a pitcher of ice water in there for you."

I could hear him filling it up with ice and then water from the sink.

"I think it's important for you to have the bedroom with the bathroom connected to it," he continued as he moved into Nick's bedroom carrying the pitcher and an empty glass. "Mom says you usually get up quite a few times in the middle of the night and if you stay out here you might keep Mom awake all night using the bathroom."

He had me there and he knew it. If Mom had noticed my many nightly visits in our apartment with the whole living room between us, there was no way she was going to miss them with the second bathroom right outside her door and sharing a wall with her room. The fact that I hadn't moved at all the previous night was due to my skipped nap and traveling the day before. I doubted I would be so lucky again.

"Talk behind my back much?" I asked lightly as he returned to the living room.

I knew they did, and I knew they knew I knew that they did; there was always plenty to talk about...I made sure of that, albeit unintentionally.

"Nothing I wouldn't say to your face," Mark said truthfully taking my hands and pulling me gently but firmly off the couch. "Take the bedroom."

"Okay," I surrendered "you win."

"I usually do," he admitted smugly.

I playfully punched him in the stomach.

"You really are weak," he teased. "I barely felt that one."

"Just wait until I get my strength back," I warned, "You'll regret your lack of respect."

"I'm looking forward to it," he replied fervently.

I gave him a hug, picked up my suitcase which I had retrieved from Mark's room before Mom took over his bedroom, and made my way to Nick's room.

Stopping at the door, I turned around and said, "Love you".

"Love you, too," he returned. "Sweet dreams."

He had no idea.

I flipped the light switch on, shut the door, and looked around the room. I hadn't been in Nick's bedroom before and it was tantalizing.

However, as difficult as it was to do, I managed to resist opening his closet door and dresser drawers. If he had any secrets, he deserved to keep them to himself.

Instead, I satisfied myself with examining only what was out in the open. The walls were bare, not even any curtains on the window just mini-blinds, and there was a king-sized bed in the big middle of the room covered with a plain dark blue bedspread.

I threw my suitcase on it.

Continuing my investigation, I noticed one of the nightstands held a lamp and a book. Curiously, I walked over and picked the book up, glancing at the title.

How funny, I thought, He's reading the Agent Jack Knight books.

I wondered what he thought of them. I could ask him at church in the morning, but I decided it was better if I didn't know we had things like that in common, as it would just make everything that much harder.

The other nightstand had a framed picture sitting on it. From a distance, it looked like a family portrait. I crawled across the bed and reached over to pick it up, then gasped aloud. My hand flew up to my mouth and I glanced nervously at the door, hoping Mark hadn't heard me.

My eyes were irresistibly drawn back to the picture frame. Obviously, it was a family portrait but what had surprised me was the photo stuck in the bottom right hand corner of the frame.

I vaguely remembered someone at the Homecoming Dance snapping pictures of couples, but I hadn't paid much attention to them; being too preoccupied with Nick. I stared at the picture unable to take my eyes off the smiling couple looking back at me. We looked so good together. I felt the familiar lump in my throat, the ache in my chest, and the churning in my stomach.

That had been one of the best nights of my life, correction, the best night of my life, and I was thankful to Nick for giving it to me. I tried to quell the hopelessness that rose up inside of me, threatening to overwhelm me as it had in the past as I yearned for the impossible, but gazing at the picture it almost felt like it was possible, that it was so close if I just knew what to do, how to reach it...

I forced my gaze away from the picture and, crawling over to my suitcase I opened it and began getting ready for bed.

As much as I wanted to dwell on it, I couldn't allow myself to wonder why Nick would have that picture by his bed. That path led to disaster. Mark might have done the same thing with the picture if it had been him; it meant nothing.

Being in Nick's room brought the night of the dance into clear focus...how Nick's arms felt around me and how our bodies had touched...

Stop it, CeeCee! I told myself in panic, remember Michael!

The kissing experiment with Michael had clearly shown me that two people could see and feel totally different things about the same experience. Just because I had been drowning in my feelings for Nick that night, it didn't necessarily follow that Nick felt the same way.

Angry with myself for dredging up things better left buried, I moved into the bathroom in order to finish getting ready for bed. I refused to look around; I didn't want to see anything else that might set me off again.

As soon as I was back in the bedroom, I put my suitcase on the floor, turned the picture frame face down, flipped off the light and got into the middle of the bed. I tossed and turned for a while, and then gave in.

I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep unless I occupied the side with the lamp and the book.

Instinctively, I knew that Nick slept there. Lying with my head on one pillow, I grabbed the other and held it in my arms, pretending it was Nick. Smiling to myself, I was asleep almost immediately.

Chapter 28

Dear Diary,

I know what I need to do now.

CeeCee

Mark had never actually driven to the church building where Nick's parents worshipped, the church he attended was close to the campus, so Nick volunteered to meet us at the apartment to make sure we didn't get lost.

I was dressed and sitting on the couch—everything but my toothbrush already packed into the suitcase on the floor next to me—nervously wondering what his mood would be, when the front door of the apartment opened and Nick entered carrying a duffel bag. Shutting the door, he tossed the bag on the floor and started toward the kitchen before he noticed me.

"You're up early," he said in surprise.

"Someone made me take a nap yesterday," I reminded him.

"Must be a highly intelligent person," he decided, "Because you're in much better shape this morning."

"Gee, thanks for reminding me how hideous I looked yesterday morning," I retorted sharply.

I definitely didn't want him to remember.

"Wouldn't want to forget that," I added acidly.

"No problem," he grinned.

He seemed to be in a much better mood, and I decided to risk his anger.

"So what happened to you last night?"

"I was around," he answered casually. "Did you miss me?"

I shrugged, not about to touch that one.

"I'm sure Daniel more than made up for my absence," he continued. I frowned, puzzled by his tone. "You two seemed to be hitting it off at supper."

"He's...okay," I said carefully, not wanting to set Nick off, "I don't really understand him," I confessed.

"His intentions seemed very clear to me," Nick frowned then changed the subject. "Where's everyone?" he asked glancing into his obviously empty room.

"Mom's getting ready in Mark's room," I replied, "and Mark decided to make a donut run.

"Ah, gotta love those apple fritters and cinnamon rolls," Nick said, practically licking his lips.

"You know all that sugar and fat will kill you," I pointed out disdainfully.

"But what a way to go," he responded. "You could use a little sugar, maybe it would sweeten your disposition."

Thankfully, Mom chose that moment to emerge from the bedroom. If I had let any of the things I was thinking slip out, it would only have proven his point.

Nick made himself comfortable on the couch next to me while Mom took the armchair. I leaned back and allowed their conversation to float over me. Predictably, it was about Nick's family. Tuning them out, not wanting to watch the easy way they talked and laughed together, I focused on what Nick could have possibly meant about Daniel.

I realized that Daniel possessed a wicked sense of humor, possibly even more warped than mine, and that trying to antagonize Nick seemed to be a favorite pastime of his, but what I didn't understand was why he was using me to bait him...or why it was working. Daniel gave every appearance of being interested in me, chasing me, but I knew it was just a front; he had admitted as much to me. The only thing I could come up with was that Daniel was too old for me, and Nick felt protective because of his feelings for Mom. I didn't like that idea at all.

The arrival of the donuts interrupted my unpleasant thoughts. I used that as an excuse to escape to Mark's bathroom to brush my teeth. I heard Mom explaining to Nick that I wasn't much of a donut eater and had fixed myself some scrambled eggs and toast earlier. Closing the bathroom door firmly, I stalled as long as I could.

Nick was in his bedroom getting ready, Mark was waiting to get into the bathroom to brush his teeth, and Mom was in Mark's bedroom packing up her suitcase when I finally emerged.

We were planning to eat with the Barretts after church, drop Mark and Nick off at their apartment after that, and then head home. I put my toothbrush in one of the outside zipper compartments and sat down to wait for the others.

Once everyone was ready, Mom asked Nick if we could take our car—it was a gas saver as well as easier to climb into for those of us in skirts—and handed him the keys, seeing as he was the only one who knew where we were going. He took the keys and got into the car as I made myself comfortable in the back seat directly behind him. If Mom decided to sit in the front with him, I didn't want to be able to see his face every time he looked at her.

Mom insisted on Mark taking the front passenger seat as usual, which relieved me greatly, however, my relief was short-lived and only lasted until I looked up and met Nick's eyes in the rearview mirror.

The shock in my eyes was so apparent I could see Nick having trouble suppressing his laughter. I couldn't believe I hadn't thought about that stinkin' mirror. Knowing his vision of my face was limited, and that sticking out my tongue would have accomplished nothing, I narrowed my eyes at him instead and then turned my head to look out the window, pointedly ignoring him.

The trip took a little over thirty minutes and I resolutely kept my gaze fixed out the window. The result was a major crick in my neck, but that couldn't be helped. I wondered desperately why God had sent Nick to torment me so.

David and Josh were waiting in the parking lot for us to arrive. They yanked open my door, much as they had the previous day, and attempted to haul me out of the car.

"I don't think CeeCee would appreciate two dislocated shoulders," Nick said irritably. "Let her get out of the car by herself."

"Sorry CeeCee," they said simultaneously releasing my arms and standing back grinning while I swung my legs out and stood up. "We're here to take you to class."

I returned their grin, reaching a hand out to each of them and said, "Take me to your leader."

Predictably, they roared with laughter as they grabbed my hands and whisked me away.

Also predictably, Nick called after them, "Slow down!"

The twins slowed their steps imperceptibly, looked at each other, and then took off again. It encouraged me to realize that I could keep up with them without being exhausted. Hope rose up in me for the first time in months; maybe I could get back to normal. I was feeling a little better every day.

Suddenly, I had the urge to run. I wondered how long it would be before I would be able to start building myself up again. Realizing I would have to begin slowly, I decided that I would try to work out a schedule as soon as possible.

My doctor appointment was the following Thursday and I hoped that he would okay me to start working out if I had a reasonable plan in place and could show him how much improved I was. I was determined to get back to normal as soon as possible. I felt restless and needed to run.

The high school class met in what they called the Activity Center, which was not connected to the main building. There looked to be about forty high school students already there standing around eating donuts and drinking hot chocolate.

Not donuts again, I groaned to myself.

I was introduced so many times I couldn't possibly remember everyone's names. The twins were apparently quite popular.

Politely, not wanting to hurt anyone's feelings, I refused the donuts generously offered by quite a few different teenagers, but accepted the hot chocolate David handed me. I had to admit, it was good stuff.

The youth minister, a man in his early thirties who was about my height, but quite a bit heavier, had moved to the middle of the circle of chairs motioning for everyone to take a seat. The twins pulled me over to the chairs and sat me down between them. I tried not to squirm in my chair at the youth minister's first words.

"We have a visitor today, I see," he began as all heads swiveled around to look at me. "David, Josh, would you like to introduce your guest?"

David and Josh stood up, pulling me with them.

"This is CeeCee Wilson. She's a senior from the Dallas area," David announced proudly.

"Her family is visiting us," Josh added not to be outdone.

The whole group said "Welcome" in unison and I made an embarrassed, little waving motion with my hand.

"We're glad you're here CeeCee, my name is Randy and I'm the youth minister here," he introduced himself as I sat down. The twins quickly followed suit. "We've been studying in First Corinthians the last couple of weeks so if all of you will open your Bibles to the thirteenth chapter, we'll begin there."

I was a bit embarrassed that I hadn't thought to pack my Bible, but David and Josh were more than happy to share with me. Each of them kept shoving theirs over toward me while trying to push the other's book out of the way. Once again, I hid a smile; they were so young.

As Randy read from his Bible, I ignored the twins and closed my eyes in concentration. I remembered Eric, our youth minister back home, calling it the love chapter.

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrong...It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.

Those words hit me hard. I claimed to love Mom, Mark, and Nick but I had failed them. I was none of those things; in fact, I was the exact opposite of most of them.

"When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me."

I was eighteen years old, considered an adult, but I wasn't acting like it. Instead, I was being a selfish, self-centered spoiled rotten kid. The whole world didn't revolve around me, even though I frequently acted like it did, and Mom, Mark, and even Daniel blamed themselves for things that were totally my fault, that I should have never allowed to happen on top of the fact I had been unforgivably rude to the one person who had tried his hardest to help me. It was a wonder that Nick hadn't given up on me a long time ago.

"And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love."

I suddenly thought of Dad. He had embodied the whole spirit of love. Even at the end, his pain had been the pain of loving all of us and being unable to protect us from the hurt his disease caused us.

In sudden inspiration, I wondered if that was how God felt about all of us, His children; knowing better than anyone how much pain we lived with on a daily basis, but unable to do anything for us unless we let Him. He had to know what it felt like to have to deal with unbearable pain; after all, He had given Jesus for a sewer rat like me.

I had shut Dad out of my life until the end—not realizing how much it would have helped the whole family if I hadn't—how much he could have helped me...how much he had helped me the last couple days of his life once I let him.

Not for the first time, I wished fervently that I hadn't been so wrapped up in what I was going through, completely ignoring the rest of the world, and my family in particular. Shutting everyone out had been my way of trying to protect myself from life and the pain that inevitably accompanied it.

The problem was that it hadn't worked. Hiding from the world hadn't mitigated any of the pain, and was obviously not the answer.

Thoughts swirled around in my head, too many to deal with all at one time. Should I go away to college? Was that too cowardly? How would Mom and Mark react? Was that being selfish? Could I stay and watch Mom and Nick together? Was I strong enough? Would I ever be able to find anyone to replace Nick in my heart?

Maybe I was destined to be alone.

But I wanted someone, and not just anyone, I wanted Nick.

Stop it, I told myself firmly.

Nick was offering friendship; that would have to be enough. It was better than nothing.

With a start, I realized that class was over. I quickly shoved all of the confusing questions to the back of my mind, determined to pull them out later when I was alone.

I had some tough decisions to make, and I wanted plenty of time to think them through before making any major changes in my life, realizing that I needed to consider how they would affect everyone, not just me.

That's a start, I thought nodding to myself, trying to put others first.

I knew God would approve.

After class, I allowed David and Josh to drag me to the auditorium. Their exuberance was contagious. I found it hard not to smile whenever I was with them. It was nice.

Nick was in the foyer when we arrived there and, frowning at the twins, he commanded, "I order you to release your prisoner into my safekeeping."

The twins were hard put to keep their laughter under control—after all, we were in a church building—as they literally put my wrists into Nick's out-stretched hands. Nick rolled his eyes at me and chuckled. I shook my head at him, returning his smile as I took my wrists back.

"You survived?"

"There was only a little torture involved," I assured him. "Don't worry; I gave them my name, rank and serial number...nothing else."

His chuckle turned to a scowl as I felt two hands encircle my waist from behind.

"Hmm, you smell good," Daniel said softly in my ear. "Come sit with me," he urged as he pulled me with him toward the auditorium.

I only caught a glimpse of Nick's face as I was hauled off, but I could tell Daniel had managed to anger him again. I sighed.

"Why so glum?" Daniel asked knowingly, dragging me down the center aisle. "Have no fear; Nick doesn't give up that easily."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I replied in exasperation, trying to remove his arm from around my waist, "but I wish you would stop trying to infuriate him."

"Making him insanely jealous is just too hard to resist," Daniel laughed as he allowed me to get rid of one of his arms. "I've never seen him like this, and I plan on enjoying every minute of it."

"He's not jealous," I contradicted. "He's just being a little overprotective."

I wish, I thought to myself dully.

"If you say so," he said agreeably, as we arrived at the pew where his parents were sitting.

The twins were at the end of the row closest to us, Mr. Barrett was next to them with his arm around his wife's shoulders, and Mom was sitting next to Mrs. Barrett engaged in an animated discussion with her, both gesticulating with their hands. I smiled; they were a lot alike.

Mark was on the other side of Mom watching us curiously. Deciding that I wanted to sit by Mark, I turned to tell Daniel and felt myself being torn gently from his grasp.

"I'm sure you'll understand if CeeCee wants to sit by Mark," Nick said smoothly to a surprised Daniel as he put his arm around my waist and led me through the empty pew in front of his family's row to the other aisle.

Gesturing that I should go first, we entered the family pew and I sat down next to Mark with Nick sitting on the other side of me. Daniel took the spot on the other side of Nick.

"Smooth move, bro," he congratulated Nick as he winked at me.

Frowningly, I shook my head at him and turned to talk to Mark who was wearing a bemused look on his face.

"I think you've made a hit with all of the Barrett brothers," he whispered in my ear.

"I guess they figure since they don't have a sister of their own, they'll have to make do with yours," I whispered back in exasperation. "I need protection and you're falling down on the job."

"Sorry," he replied unrepentantly, "With you, I need all the help I can get."

I elbowed him in the ribs as the service started, and as he attempted to disguise his laughter as a cough, Mom pulled a cough drop out of her purse and offered it to him. He shook his head, coughing harder. I grinned at his discomfort; served him right. Nick and Daniel were eyeing us curiously, but I ignored them both; trying to decipher Daniel's actions and Nick's reactions were making my head hurt.

The singing was great, and I enjoyed hearing Mark's tenor next to me; it had been so long. I hadn't heard Nick sing before, he had always been on the other side of Mom and Mark, and I was shocked to hear a deep bass voice that reminded me of Dad's. Perhaps his singing voice had triggered something for Mom starting the whole thing between them.

I wondered if Nick's mom knew or suspected anything. She loved Nick enough to want him to be happy, but I couldn't help thinking she would be a little disappointed in him marrying an older woman, no matter how much they had in common and how well they got along. Maybe I wasn't the only reason Mom and Nick were keeping their feelings for each other a secret.

Selfless love, selfless love, selfless love, I kept repeating over and over in my head, I can do this.

I would have to pray hard and give myself a good talking to every once in a while, but I knew I wasn't alone. I had alternately yelled at God, questioned his existence, blamed him for everything, and questioned his existence again—that was quite the contradiction, accusing a non-existent being—but I had never truly been able to convince myself that God didn't exist.

I needed Him to exist, needed to know there was some order in the universe, something that made sense, some all-powerful being in control. I was just beginning to realize that I wasn't going to be able to figure everything out, that sometimes there would be things that made no sense to me no matter how many lists I made. However, if I grasped tightly to the belief that there was someone, somewhere, who understood what was going on, who was in control, things would be alright in the end. God had to be there. Otherwise, I might as well give up.

"Faith, hope, and love," I would hold onto all three of those, realizing how important they were, knowing I had almost lost them.

"And the greatest of these is love."

Chapter 29

Dear Diary,

Finally, a trip to the zoo!

CeeCee

I pretended to be asleep for the first part of the trip from Austin to Dallas. Mom didn't mind, she had her own private worries.

I could tell she didn't want to talk to me about what had happened with her 'friends' the day before, simply asking me if Mark had explained. I nodded and she seemed satisfied. I felt for her, but there was nothing I could do to make things any better except be there when she needed me.

Maybe I was growing up. Mom and Mark would be relieved.

Thinking about Mark brought a smile to my lips. He had taken me at my word and with a vengeance. From the time church let out to the time Mom and I got into the car to leave for home, he hadn't left me alone for a second claiming a brother's privilege. The twins were disappointed not to have me to themselves, but Daniel smiled at me knowingly, not fooled for a second.

As the four of us squeezed into Mom's car after lunch to drive back to the apartment, Daniel whispered in my ear, "Big brother won't always be around to run interference," he glanced pointedly at Mark and Nick, "either of them."

I wasn't sure what he meant, but I was sure it wasn't good and was bound to end up ticking Nick off...royally.

Sighing quietly, I wished that I could transfer my affection to Daniel. I might have stood a chance with him. Not that Daniel wasn't attractive, he was every bit as good looking as Nick, but we were closer in age, and he was much less complicated.

After we'd dropped Mark and Nick off at their apartment, I settled down to get some shut-eye. I needed a nap—I had promised Nick I would take one in the car on the way home—so I gave up trying to figure anything out, and concentrated on the only thing that ever helped me get to sleep.

As I was drifting off, I was back in the arms I loved, swaying to the music...

~ * * ~

"CeeCee...please wake up."

"Mom, where are we?" I asked groggily.

"We're home and I've been trying to rouse you for the last ten minutes," she said with relief in her voice. "I thought you were unconscious again."

"Sorry," I said in chagrin. "I must have been really out of it."

Smiling once she knew I was okay Mom teased, "Good thing you woke up, otherwise you'd be sleeping in the car. Nick's not here to carry you in like the last couple of times."

"He's carried me more than once?"

I knew about the time he had brought me home from the state meet, but I didn't remember any other time.

"He carried you into their apartment Friday night," Mom said getting out of the car "and I helped you get undressed. You were dead to the world."

I hated that annoying phrase.

"His poor back," I said sympathetically.

I was no lightweight, even though I knew I still weighed quite a bit less than normal. No psychic needed to see that a chiropractor loomed in his future.

I got out of the car and met her around the back so we could get our suitcases out of the trunk.

Mom laughed, "He didn't seem to mind."

I felt all kinds of guilty. Mom had no idea how I felt about him or she wouldn't have taken it all so lightly.

We took our things up to the apartment and I headed straight for my bedroom saying, "I'm still beat, think I'll have an early night."

"Good idea," Mom stifled a yawn, "I'm glad we have all week to recover from our trip. I'm not as young as I used to be," she added with a tinge of sadness.

We said goodnight in the living room and went to our respective bedrooms.

I set my suitcase on the floor and threw myself on the bed. I hadn't been lying, I was exhausted. Closing my eyes, I decided to rest them for a bit before I unpacked.

Opening my eyes much later, I looked at my watch and was surprised to see that it was six o'clock in the morning. I stretched and yawned and then, making a decision, I changed into my running clothes, grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge, and quietly let myself out of the apartment. Standing on the sidewalk in front of our building in the crisp spring morning air, I felt more alive than I had in a long time; it was a good feeling.

Turning toward the school, I began to walk. Running was still out of the question, but I needed to do something. Making sure I drank the whole bottle before I returned to the apartment, I walked to the school grounds and back again.

Even though it was only about three blocks, it was enough. I was satisfied. I could feel the strength returning to my limbs, and knew it would only be a matter of time until I could run again.

Mom was fixing breakfast when I got back to the apartment. She looked up in surprise when I came in the front door. Noticing the water bottle, she eyed me in consternation.

Before she had a chance to speak, I quickly reassured her, "Everything is great, Mom, I just walked to the school and back."

Sensing her doubt I continued, "I'm feeling so much better, I had to do something. I promise I won't start a running schedule until the doctor okay's it."

She looked slightly mollified and I wondered if she would call Nick the minute my back was turned to see what he thought. I never realized how much Mom had relied on Dad's calming presence and common sense. She needed someone strong to take care of her. I wanted that for her, I just couldn't help but wish that 'someone' had been anyone but Nick.

After we ate, I went to my room and rested, there wasn't much else I could do, and waited until after ten to call Felicia knowing she would finally be awake. Between her sleeping in and my afternoon naps, we were going to have a hard time squeezing in girl time. We decided that she would come over at four o'clock every day, and then stay to eat supper with us.

At noon, Mom called me out of my bedroom for lunch. I could tell something was bothering her; she was distracted, not even paying attention to what I was eating, much less what she was.

"Mom...?" I ventured uncertainly after having a short debate in my head, trying to decide the right thing to do and making a conscious decision to take things slowly instead of jumping in headfirst and regretting it later.

"Hmm...?"

Mom was off somewhere else.

"Is something wrong?"

"Oh, no not really, I was just thinking," she paused a moment, "What would you think about making a trip to Austin every weekend?"

I was startled. I guess I should have been expecting something of the sort, but I hadn't.

"You mean both of us?" I asked carefully.

"I wouldn't like leaving you here by yourself," Mom said, "So yes I was thinking both of us. You had fun with Nick's family these last few days didn't you?"

"Sure, but I don't want to do it every weekend."

I searched for the right tone before continuing, "But you should go if you want to, I know I can stay at Felicia's house while you're gone."

"I'd thought of that, too," she admitted. "Still...you could come with me whenever you felt like it."

"That's fine, Mom."

I was relieved it had been so easy to convince her to go without me...probably because she hadn't wanted me along in the first place as I would just end up being the third wheel.

"I got up early this morning, so I'm going to go ahead and take my nap now if that's okay with you. Felicia is coming around four and I want to be wide awake this time."

Mom nodded, distracted again.

I needed to fall asleep right away if I planned to be awake when Felicia got there so I didn't even bother pretending I was going to do anything other than play the all too familiar scene in my head. I closed my eyes and heard the music beginning...

The next few days developed into a pattern, I would wake early, go for a walk, eat breakfast, rest until lunch, take a nap, visit with Felicia, eat supper, talk to Mark on the phone, and then go to bed. I missed talking to Nick, but I had no excuse to call him since Mark was available again.

Thursday morning the routine changed to include a doctor appointment in the morning. After he completed his exam, I showed him the schedule I had written up for resuming my running and he agreed it was reasonable. As long as I continued to eat and drink enough he said I could start Friday. I was ecstatic. Mom was hesitant, but the doctor assured her that everything looked fine.

That was enough to convince Mom that she could leave for Austin without me on Friday morning. She and Nick hadn't been able to spend much time together the weekend we were there and I was sure they would want to make up for lost time.

Felicia had already made plans for Friday night, but she gave her date an ultimatum...either they moved the date to the afternoon or she would have to cancel altogether. He agreed to move the date. She assured me she would be over to pick me up between five and six that evening.

Friday morning mom was packed and ready to leave by the time I was back from my run/walk. She waited anxiously for me to return, but I was absolutely exhilarated. I never realized just how important running was to my well-being.

Mom gave me a quick hug and kiss, told me breakfast was on the table, and, grabbing her suitcase, hurried out to the car; she wanted to beat the morning rush hour, which was always a nightmare on I75 as well as I35.

After taking my shower, the whole day stretched ahead of me. I hadn't opened my laptop in over a week so I went in the bedroom and brought it out to the dining room. One of the advantages to apartment living was high-speed internet. I could plug into a jack in the wall, or use their wireless.

Although I was having problems getting a good signal with the wireless, we were too far from the main building, I could directly plug into the jack at the built-in desk in the dining room. The difference in speed from our old dial up was amazing.

I decided it was time to apply to some out of state colleges. Filling out some online applications, I applied to a couple of colleges in Colorado and California. I had waited too long for a definite acceptance for the fall semester but there was still a possibility that I could get in; I would just have to wait for a spot to open.

That was fine with me; I wasn't ready for anyone to know what I was doing. Felicia and I had already been accepted at UT, and I would love to go there, but I wasn't sure I could handle being that close to Nick yet. I could just stay in the DFW area, there were a lot of choices, but there was no need to worry about it until I knew what Mom planned to do.

Startled out of my thoughts by the sound of the doorbell, I got up from the desk and hurried to the door to look out the peek hole, wondering who it could be.

What is he doing here? I wondered in exasperation as I opened the door.

"Hey beautiful," Daniel greeted me as he strolled casually into the apartment.

Surprised, I stood there with my mouth open, frozen to the spot.

"Are you going to stand there all day with your mouth and the door open?" he teased.

"What are you doing here?"

"I figured since your mom was staying at my parents' house this weekend, you might be lonely," he answered with mock concern.

"Does Nick know you're here?"

"I didn't relish the thought of having a black eye or a broken nose, so that would be a no," he replied. "Speaking of broken noses, I'd enjoy hearing that story. Did you really break a guy's nose for trying to kiss you?"

"Daniel...you shouldn't be here."

"Chill, CeeCee," Daniel said breezily, "I'm not planning on seducing you or anything. I enjoyed being with you last weekend so I thought that maybe we could do something today. I promise to leave by the time your friend comes to pick you up."

"Really...?" I asked suspiciously, not sure whether to believe anything he said.

"Really," he assured me. "I was kind of hoping you might want to go to Six Flags with me. I haven't been in years."

"That actually sounds like fun," I answered reluctantly, torn.

"Hey, I'm a fun guy."

I had no doubt about that; I just wasn't sure he was a 'safe' guy.

"So if I say yes, we go to Six Flags and then you go home."

"Well, I probably need to bring you back here first," he said playfully. "Unless you want to come home with me."

"No that's okay, I think a day at Six Flags will be quite enough of your company for a while," I replied firmly. "I'll go get ready. Stay here and try to behave."

I heard him laugh as I shut the door.

Pulling off my shorts and tank top, I threw on some clean jeans and a white sleeveless blouse. Sticking my cell phone and driver's license in my back pocket and some cash in my front one, I went out to the living room to rejoin Daniel.

He clicked his tongue at me and shook his head.

"What?" I demanded.

"Nothing...it's just that I was quite enjoying your other outfit."

"You would," I muttered. "Are you going to behave yourself today?"

"Scout's honor..."

"That doesn't count since you weren't actually a boy scout," I told him sourly, assuming since Nick hadn't been one Daniel hadn't either.

"How did you do that?"

"I'm psychic."

"Look CeeCee," Daniel said with uncharacteristic sincerity, "I think we could have a lot of fun together today and I promise to behave myself. Friends...?" he held out his hand for me to shake.

After a slight hesitation, I gave in.

"Friends," I agreed shaking his hand.

I had to stifle a laugh when I saw Daniel's red pickup shining in the sun. I should have known, I thought ruefully; it matched his personality. I preferred Nick's black one...it was less flamboyant.

Daniel proved to be a lighthearted companion, which I had to admit, I needed. He tried to pay my way into the amusement park, but I refused. I was not about to let it turn into a date...just two friends spending the day together.

We rode every even remotely scary ride in the whole park. Daniel seemed to crave adventure. He insisted on riding the Shock Wave twice. We ate and drank indiscriminately, which was probably not a good idea when riding on things that turned people upside down, but I was having a blast.

By early evening, I was tired and it was getting late. I had missed my nap, but Daniel was loath to leave. I finally convinced him that if I passed out he wouldn't like having to face my family or his for that matter, and he quickly agreed it was time to go.

I slept the whole way back to the apartment and awoke with a start to the feel of a pair of lips on mine, although I could easily tell they weren't the same ones as in my dream.

Opening my eyes, I saw that Daniel had moved over to my side of the pickup and was not behaving as he had promised. My eyes widened in surprise and I began pushing at him leaning as far away as possible against my door, which suddenly flew open. Gasping, I fell backwards out of the pickup into another pair of arms.

"What the devil do you think you're doing?" Nick demanded.

"Nick," Daniel said in shock, "What are you doing here?"

"What do you think I'm doing here?"

I only thought he was as angry as he could get the other day, but that was nothing compared to the red-hot fury in his eyes as he glowered at Daniel.

"I couldn't get CeeCee to answer her phone; I called Felicia and discovered that she couldn't even find her. Of all the irresponsible, immature, idiotic things..."

"Nick," I tried to turn around to face him, but he was gripping me too tightly. "It was my fault, too, for agreeing to go with him, and you're cutting off the circulation in my arms."

He immediately released me.

"Time just got away from us," I said in a placating voice. "We didn't mean to cause anyone to worry."

I felt horrible that he had driven three hours because of my irresponsibility.

"Get inside," he said peremptorily. "I'll deal with you next."

I didn't have it in me to argue. I went. Daniel was going to have to fight his own battles; mine was going to be tough enough to deal with.

I changed clothes, longing for a shower, but I knew that would take too long and I didn't want to do anything else that would set Nick off. Pulling my cell phone out of my pocket, I discovered the battery had discharged. No wonder I hadn't heard it ring or felt a vibration.

About five minutes later, Nick came through the front door. He was practically growling. I was going to take whatever he saw fit to dish out, knowing I deserved it.

"Are Mom and Mark angry with me?" I asked with uncharacteristic timidity.

"They don't know," he replied abruptly.

"But how did you...?"

"I told you, I have been trying to call you all day," he replied tersely. "I finally gave up and called Felicia. She dumped her date early to try to find you. Neither of us could get you to answer your phone, so here I am."

"I should call Felicia..." I began.

"I already did," Nick interrupted me. "She's on her way here."

"Nick, I'm so sorry," I said disconsolately, "I just didn't stop to think. My cell phone battery apparently died and I didn't know it."

"You should have known better," he said in disgust. "I don't expect any better from your boyfriend. Responsibility has never been high on his list of priorities. "

"He's not my boyfriend," I denied vehemently. "We're just friends," I mumbled, realizing how lame that sounded.

Nick looked like he wanted to continue on his rant but changed his mind, his face softening.

"CeeCee," Nick said gently, "If you needed a friend, why didn't you call me?"

"I didn't call him," I looked up in astonishment, "He just showed up this morning. I know I shouldn't have gone, it wore me out so badly I slept all the way back here, but I hadn't done anything like that in a long time and it was fun."

Nick looked thoughtful for a moment.

"What would you think if I stayed the night here in the apartment and tomorrow we do something a little less strenuous but just as fun," he asked with a smile in his voice as well as on his face.

"But don't you think you should get back home?" I asked, wondering how he would explain his absence to my mother.

"I don't have anything planned for the rest of today," he assured me. "How about it?"

"I'd love that," I responded without thinking. "Could we...?" I stopped abruptly.

"Could we...what?"

"Nothing, I...you'll think I'm silly," I mumbled in embarrassment.

"You are a lot of things, CeeCee," Nick teased, "But I have never known silly to be one of them. What were you going to say? You know I'll get it out of you eventually so you might as well surrender now."

"I've never been to a zoo," I said quickly, not meeting his eyes, "I just wondered if..."

"As afraid of dogs as your mom is," Nick responded, "I'm not surprised. Hmm, I'm thinking the Fort Worth Zoo would be best, it's my favorite in this area and it will be easier for you. The Dallas one has a lot of uphill walking."

"You don't mind?"

"CeeCee," Nick said in exasperation, "Veterinarian," he continued pointing to himself then qualified, "well in a month and a half I will be. My dad took us to every zoo in the state, and quite a few out of state ones, while we were growing up."

I laughed. I hadn't thought of that.

A knock interrupted us. Felicia let me have it as soon as I opened the door.

"You had better not ever scare me like that again!" she reprimanded me severely.

"Sorry."

I was sorry, but I was also having a hard time not laughing. Felicia in full spate was quite a sight to see.

"Where is this Daniel? I want to give him a piece of my mind!"

"Sorry to spoil your rant," Nick said apologetically, "But I sent him home."

"A good thing, too," Felicia huffed, "Or else you might have been minus a brother."

"I can see that," Nick smiled. "You look like me about fifteen minutes ago."

"Felicia," I said soothingly, "I'm sorry I didn't know my phone battery had gone dead, but I'm fine and I would greatly appreciate you not having a stroke."

Felicia took a few breaths to calm down and then looked a little sheepish.

"Sorry," she apologized in turn, "I was just so worried about you."

"CeeCee has promised never to do anything like that again," Nick assured her.

"And she needs to stay miles away from that Daniel character," Felicia declared. "He just better pray that he never meets me!"

~ * * ~

Nick picked me up at Felicia's house on Saturday morning and we made it to the zoo just as it opened. I felt like a little kid. My parents had made many attempts to take me to the zoo when I was younger, but something always seemed to come up; I woke up with the chicken pox, someone at church died, Mark came down with the flu...the list went on and on.

Nick thought it was hilarious that I was eighteen years old and had never been to the zoo.

Felicia couldn't go with us; besides the fact that she never got up before ten if she could help it, she had moved her Saturday night date to a lunch/afternoon date since I was staying the night with her, so her day was pretty well accounted for. I quietly got ready to go, trying not to wake her, but I shouldn't have even bothered. A full-blown tornado couldn't have roused her, she was such a heavy sleeper, giving me new insight into that overused and much hated phrase 'dead to the world'.

Unlike Daniel, Nick wouldn't let me get away with insisting I pay for my own admission. Nick taking his future stepdaughter to the zoo; I would have laughed at the irony of the situation if it hadn't made me want to cry so badly.

Still, the zoo with Nick was ten times better than anything else with Daniel. I loved animals and Nick knew more about them than anyone I had ever met. His comments at times were so funny that I laughed until my sides ached.

None of our conversations were earth shaking or deep—I probably wouldn't even remember the details by the next day—but everything was so lighthearted and fun I admitted to Nick that I felt like a little kid. He laughed and bought me cotton candy, which I promptly demolished.

Also, unlike Daniel, Nick made sure I was back at the apartment by mid afternoon in order to take a nap. He needed to get back to Austin, but made me solemnly swear I would stay put until Felicia picked me up after my nap. I assured him that I had learned my lesson.

He laughed and murmured, "That'll be the day," in my ear as he hugged me goodbye.

I felt bereft as I locked the apartment door behind him. Glancing down, I noticed I was still holding the miniature gazelle he had purchased for me at the gift shop on the way out. They were my favorite animals because they were so graceful and I loved to watch them run...no big surprise there.

I put the gazelle on my desk where I would be able to see it clearly from the bed, then changed my mind and picked it up again. Even though I realized it might poke my eye out while I was sleeping, I decided to risk it anyway.

I fell asleep with the gazelle in my hand and a smile on my face.

Chapter 30

Dear Diary,

Why didn't I think of Michael before?

CeeCee

Every weekend during the months of April and May, except for one, Mom packed her suitcase and headed to Austin; sometimes leaving on Friday evening and sometimes waiting until early Saturday morning. Daniel called me on most Saturday mornings, but didn't show up unexpectedly again. I was almost sorry, knowing that if he had, Nick would have been right behind him.

Daniel spent a lot of time trying to convince me to accompany my mother on some of her Austin trips, but I wouldn't budge.

Nick must have kept the weekend adventure to himself because neither Mom nor Mark ever mentioned anything about it. Daniel's parents, however, according to Daniel, let their displeasure be felt by threatening to cut off his allowance if he pulled a stunt like that again.

Until Daniel graduated in May and was able to get a job teaching Ag in the fall, he was still under his parents thumb more or less because they were paying his way through college, his pickup was in their name, and he was too lazy to get a job. He moaned about that a lot. I couldn't believe he and Mark were the same age.

Felicia refused to make any more dates on the weekends while I was staying with her. I tried to convince her that I wasn't going to do anything stupid, that I had truly learned my lesson, but she wouldn't listen to me. The only exception she planned to make was for prom, and since that was the weekend Mom would be at home chaperoning again, it didn't matter. Felicia had a whole list of possible escorts to choose from but, by the first of May, she still hadn't come to a decision.

I spent a lot of time consciously making an effort to eat and drink enough. Rediscovering running made all the difference to my attitude toward life in general. I realized just how much I had to lose by not taking care of my body's requirements, and I was determined to do a better job of it. Plus, I knew I would have to answer to Nick if I slipped up. Since the Daniel disaster, he called me every evening to check up on me as soon as I hung up with Mark.

His conversation basically consisted of him asking me how much running I was doing, how much I was eating and drinking, and whether I was sleeping enough.

I didn't even try to argue with him, just gave him the information like a dutiful child. Once he was satisfied with my answers, he would say in his normal, shiver-inducing voice "Sleep well, CeeCee" and hang up.

I sorely missed our former, more relaxed and intimate phone calls, but I had blown our previous relationship by violating any trust he had in me. I supposed something was better than nothing.

Although I managed to avoid Michael's inquisition through April—I was still on half days until the end of that month—he managed to catch me alone as I came into the cafeteria my first full day back. He wasn't about to be put off again. I explained to him, although not in any great detail, about Mark's defection and he sympathized, but was upset with me for keeping it to myself.

"We are still friends," he reminded me reproachfully.

"I know," I said apologetically. "I'm sorry."

"So how are things coming with Nick?"

"What do you mean?" I asked in surprise.

"I mean it was pretty obvious back in October that you two were...involved," he hesitated on the last word.

"No, we're not," I disagreed, wondering if everyone knew how I felt about Nick because of the dance.

"I know he's the one you're in love with," Michael said confidently. "Is he still in the dark? Haven't you told him yet?"

"No and I don't plan on telling him," I replied irritably, "Because he's in love with someone else."

"Are you sure?" Michael asked in disbelief, "Because from where I was sitting it looked..."

"I overheard a conversation between them," I interrupted him before he could finish, "between him and the one he's in love with," I added in clarification.

"Wow, bummer," Michael shook his head in sympathy. "Well, since he's out of the picture how about you go to prom with me."

"Sorry," I said abruptly, "I'm not going anywhere with anyone. It just wouldn't be right."

"We could go as friends," Michael suggested.

"I appreciate the offer, but I think I'll pass," I said firmly, adding, "There are tons of girls out there just waiting for you to look their way, I wouldn't want you to disappoint them."

"Yeah, right," he mocked, "they're just lining up at the door."

"Pick the prettiest girl you can think of, and then ask her to the prom."

"I just did and she turned me down," he said sourly.

I laughed, I couldn't help it, and after a moment he joined in.

"Okay, the second prettiest girl then," I amended shaking my head at him.

"That would be Felicia, but I'm sure she's already taken," he said morosely.

"Actually, just in case you're interested, she hasn't accepted anyone's invitation yet," I said slyly.

Why hadn't I thought of it before? I wondered incredulously. They would be perfect together.

He shrugged and said, "I could give it a try, but I doubt she would be interested in someone as boring as I am."

"We're not boring," I objected, "Just because we aren't as outgoing as Allen and Felicia it doesn't mean we're boring."

"So you would put us together in the same category?" he asked thoughtfully. "Interesting, I hadn't thought of it that way."

"Still waters run deep you know," he had no more self-confidence than I did. "Now if you don't mind, I'm not allowed to skip lunch," I teased him.

"Sorry," he said absently and let me to lead him to our table.

Felicia was in the middle of a dramatic story, but managed to give me a questioning look while not even breaking her stride. I just smiled and shook my head; she would find out soon enough, hopefully.

I knew Nick wouldn't be happy with me, but I only had time to get bottled water and a package of peanut butter crackers out of the vending machines before the bell rang and everyone started breaking up to get to class. Since I had a free period later, I put more money in and pushed the button for some peanut butter cookies, too, promising myself I would eat a healthy snack as soon as I got home.

I noticed with some satisfaction that Felicia and Michael were walking out of the cafeteria together. Life was good.

Felicia shot me strange looks all through Economics. I wondered if Michael had found the courage to ask her. I hoped so. I scarcely paid any attention to what the teacher was saying, I was so anxious to get to our free period so I could ask her what was going on. As soon as the bell rang, she grabbed my arm and hauled me over to our lockers.

"What's wrong?" I asked worriedly.

"You tell me and we'll both know," she answered cryptically.

"I'm afraid I haven't got a clue, all I know is that you're upset with me for some reason."

"Why did you tell Michael to ask me to the prom?"

"I'm sorry," I said taken aback, "I had no idea you would be angry with me. I just thought you two would be good together."

"So do I but I wanted it to be his idea," she huffed.

"Wait a minute," I said a smile involuntarily curving my lips, "You like Michael!"

"Well I've been hinting to him for weeks but he is so like you...oblivious," she finished in frustration. "Then for him to finally ask me and say it was your idea like I was some charity case...I was furious," she admitted ruefully.

"Did you let loose at him?" I asked in horror.

He would never forgive me.

"I'm afraid so," she said sheepishly, "I told him I wasn't interested in being asked by someone who didn't want to go with me, just to make you happy."

I groaned.

"I'm sorry I didn't warn you first, the idea just popped into my head and it sounded so good at the time..." I couldn't continue, visions of Michael bearing down on me in revenge filled my head. "He admitted to me that he had thought of asking you, but figured you already had a date."

"So he does want to take me?"

"Yes he does," I said firmly, "or did. He just needed a little boost of confidence which I gave him..."

"And I demolished," Felicia finished for me.

"So are you going to say yes to him?"

"If he'll even listen to me after my vicious attack."

"I'll make sure he does."

"Oh no," she quickly nipped that idea in the bud, "You stay out of this, you've already done enough."

"True," I agreed, "this is me, butting out."

We were late getting to our free period, but as much as I had missed, the teacher just nodded at us and went on reading her book.

In between sneaking bites of my vending machine food, Felicia and I worked like fiends to get our homework done so she would be free to talk to Michael after school. I told her I would walk home from school, but she had to call or come by after she and Michael talked because I would be dying to know what happened. She agreed and we split up to get to our last class of the day.

Once I got home, needing a good snack, I settled down in front of the TV with an apple and a glass of milk. Even though we lived in an apartment complex with cable furnished I very seldom watched it, but I was too restless wondering how the Felicia/Michael thing was going to settle down and concentrate on anything else. I needed mindless entertainment.

I must have fallen asleep on the couch because the next thing I knew Mom was home and Felicia was right behind her.

Dragging her into my bedroom and shutting the door I demanded, "Spill it!"

"I have a date for the prom," she replied primly.

We burst out laughing, Felicia in excitement, me in relief.

"You're sure you don't mind," Felicia asked suddenly after our laughter died down.

"Mind...? I am through the roof ecstatic," I said blissfully. "Two of my favorite people...wait a minute," I narrowed my eyes at her as an extremely unpleasant thought crossed my mind. "You aren't going to dump him after the prom, are you, like you've done everyone else?"

"Not a chance," Felicia replied dreamily, "I think we may last a while. He kissed me, and it was like...Wow!"

"He already kissed you," I screeched, "No way!"

"It was the sweetest kiss I've ever had," she admitted. "Just barely there, a featherlike touch, but it was magic."

I almost choked trying to hold back my gasp of surprise. Thankfully, Felicia didn't notice anything still lost in the memory of the kiss, the kiss I had learned from Nick and used on Michael as an experiment. I wanted to laugh out loud, but Felicia could never know where Michael had learned that kiss, it would ruin it for her.

Deep down I was extremely glad that I could help Michael snag Felicia, even if it didn't last long. On the other hand, maybe they would be telling their grandchildren the story some day. Stranger things had been known to happen.

As the prom drew closer, Felicia stopped trying to convince me to go, for which I was eternally grateful, but I did agree to go shopping with her to pick out her prom dress and matching accessories and I had to admit, she and Mom were two of a kind when it came to fashion sense. She was going to be absolutely stunning.

Michael was a very lucky guy and he knew it; a few days before the prom he stopped me in the hall and gave me a huge hug.

"What was that for?"

"That's for helping me find the courage to ask the love of my life to the prom."

"I am so thrilled for both of you," I responded, tears pooling in my eyes remembering how I had unintentionally hurt him.

"I just wish there was something I could do to help you."

"I'm absolutely fine," I assured him. "The best thing you can do for me is have a blast at the prom."

He gave me another hug and hurried off to class. I watched him go in wonder. The ache I always felt in my heart whenever I thought of Nick muted just a bit as the glow of warmth from the love I felt for two of my best friends radiated in my chest.

There was something to the whole selfless thing. I was happier than I had been in a long time. I hoped when the time came to be self-sacrificing about Nick I would be able to rise to the challenge. I planned to continue working on it.

Mark and Nick both had their graduation exercises the second weekend in May as well as an after graduation party for both of them at the Barrett's house, but I had begged off going pleading tiredness, and Mom had once again gone without me. None of them could argue with that although they did both give me grief over it.

Nick was particularly displeased saying he had been expecting me to be there. I was doing so well I didn't want to risk it and I knew that seeing Nick would just make everything that much more difficult. Our phone calls were almost impersonal so I managed to handle them, but a face-to-face meeting was entirely different.

Mark already had an entry-level job lined up at an architectural firm starting the first of June and Mom was going to help pay for him to go to graduate school part time beginning in the fall. She wanted him to go to school full-time, but Mark convinced her that he wanted to get a job and get his feet wet, as he called it, so she gave in.

Nick had his degree and immediately joined his father's practice, which had been the idea all along. His dad was relieved to have help. His practice had grown steadily over the past ten years because of his excellent reputation and he hadn't had a true vacation in ages. Nick told me that his dad was hoping to take his mom on an Alaskan cruise as soon as Nick felt confident he could handle things alone for a short time.

Mr. Barrett could have brought in another vet at any time, but Nick had always known what he was going to do with his life and his dad had preferred to wait for him to join the practice rather than bring in an outsider. I was glad it was all working out for them.

The weekend of the prom Mom tried to convince me one last time to go with her but I was adamant. I had refused to allow her to mention the prom to Mark or Nick and she had unwillingly complied. Although she was doubtful, I finally managed to convince her that I was too worn out and didn't need that kind of stress. I laughed humorlessly at the thought of my mom going to my prom while I stayed at home...oh the irony.

I used the night of the prom to study for the upcoming finals. My grades had slipped during the months of January, February, and March and I needed to do well on my finals in order to bring up those two six-weeks worth of grades. I hoped it was enough to get me into one of the Colorado or California colleges if an opening became available.

I hadn't said anything to Felicia about not attending UT because then I would have had to explain the whole Nick/Mom thing and I still couldn't talk about that besides the fact that with her current relationship going so well it was possible that she might decide to go to Texas Tech with Michael. I knew I shouldn't try to influence her plans anymore than I already had. I constantly practiced selflessness, although some situations were admittedly harder than others.

Felicia and Michael were inseparable after the prom. She was breaking all of her self-imposed rules, spending most of her time with him, and I was a little sad because I missed her, but happy for them both at the same time.

We all three got together a couple of times to study for finals, but it was too weird for me, watching them make goo-goo eyes at each other. I was glad for them, but I didn't like being a captive audience to their attraction.

I mentioned in passing when Felicia and I were alone that I would understand if she wanted to apply to Tech, but she seemed strangely reluctant to take me up on it. I shrugged it off and let it go. At least she knew how I felt; it was her decision.

With graduation only a couple days away, I began having depression problems again. I knew what was coming and I dreaded it. I didn't know how soon they would tell me about their relationship, but it could be anytime after graduation.

Up until then, I had been able to fool myself into believing that maybe Mom and/or Nick would change their minds, or something earth shattering would happen to convince them that it would never work, but Mom continued her Austin visits religiously.

I felt hopelessness threatening to engulf me again. I forced myself to eat and drink knowing it was especially important since I was back to running my regular five miles every morning. I wasn't sure I would ever get back to running twice a day, but I needed my morning run, it was my favorite.

The day of graduation, I was so nervous I couldn't concentrate on anything. I was as edgy as a cat on the prowl, unable to sit down or keep my focus for long. Mark and Nick were driving in from Austin right before the graduation and I was in major stress mode realizing that the time had arrived; Nick would shortly be telling the world and me in particular about the love of his life.

I found myself moaning out loud every time I thought about it, which was most of the time. Mom kept shooting me funny looks so I asked her if she would mind if I went over to Felicia's house to get ready for graduation. She agreed with relief. I could tell I was making her nuts.

I called Felicia and she was over within twenty minutes to pick me up. We carefully made sure I had everything I needed and she convinced me, against my better judgment, to wear my Homecoming Dance dress and shoes for graduation under my gown; since I didn't own any other nice dress there wasn't much choice.

As we drove back to her house, I was full of mixed emotions about wearing it. On the one hand, it had been the best night of my life, on the other it mocked me with the knowledge that Nick was in love with my mother.

Felicia was able to take my mind off everything while we did each other's hair, nails, and makeup. Technically, Felicia did almost everything for both of us since I had two left hands when it came to that type of stuff, but she didn't mind; she was an expert.

We had to be at the auditorium an hour before the ceremony in order to find our correct positions according to alphabetical order so Felicia and I made sure we left the house in plenty of time. I wasn't the only nervous graduate, but I was positive that everyone else's reasons were far different from my own.

People were hugging, kissing, laughing, and crying; the excitement was palpable.

There were so many of us that it took practically the whole hour for us to be put in order, and even then some of the graduates had to be herded back to their places when they were caught wandering over to talk to someone in a different part of the alphabet. The whole procedure would have been comical any other time, seeing the teachers looking so harried and harassed, but I was finding it difficult not to burst into tears desperately wanting the night to end.

The principal was frantically trying to get everyone's attention without much success so one of the football coaches put his fingers in his mouth and let out a piercing whistle indicating that it was time.

Closing my eyes, I practiced some deep breathing while I waited for my turn to enter the auditorium.

You can do this, I told myself as I took one final deep breath and followed the long line of graduates down the aisle.

Chapter 31

Dear Diary,

Graduation!

CeeCee

It hadn't been as horrible as I expected, hearing Elsee Caitrin Wilson over the loud speaker. I walked carefully across the stage, self-consciously trying not to trip over my own feet.

Usually I wasn't worried about clumsiness, that just wasn't me, but I knew Nick was out there, in the darkened auditorium, watching me. That thought alone was enough to make me awkward and embarrassed.

I had specifically told him not to come, but as was his way, he'd ignored me. When I had casually mentioned to Mom that I might skip the graduation exercises altogether, she had gone all ballistic on me.

Well, the worst part was over. I'd made it across the stage and was the proud owner of an empty diploma holder—apparently they never put the actual diploma in the holder, it was always sent on later, just to make sure there were no mistakes made—the tassel was hanging from the other side of my hat, and all that remained was to wait patiently for the last few graduates to do the same. Taking a deep breath, I could feel the tension draining from my body.

I was way down the alphabetical list with my 'W' name, so my nervousness had grown in steady proportion to the amount of time I had to sit and stew before they called my name.

The funny thing about it was that by the time they called my name, most people weren't even listening to the man with the monotone voice droning on and on.

Ah, there was "Wolfe," the last one. The principal was making his closing remarks, almost over. A collective sigh of relief and it was done.

I made my way through the other graduates to find Felicia who smiled and chatted with everyone as she made her way towards where she knew I would be. We found each other and hugged, laughing delightedly.

"We did it," Felicia exulted.

"Yeah, I had my doubts about you," I teased.

"Hey, changed your mind about the party?"

"Nope, sorry; you know what a party pooper I am."

"You'd rather sit around and stare longingly at Nick?"

"I don't plan to stare longingly at anyone," I assured her. "I'm going to go for a run/walk. It's about time I started my evening schedule again. Mark will probably come with me and we can talk."

"Okay, but we are still on for the new Agent Jack Knight movie coming out next week, right?"

"Absolutely," I agreed enthusiastically, "you know it's your fault I'm hooked on those things."

"Guilty as charged," she admitted. "Oh, here they come now. I'll just say hi and then head to the party."

Felicia said a quick hi and bye to everyone, then left. She was going to the after graduation party with Michael. I was glad that he had ended up being the exception to Felicia's dating rules...they made a cute couple.

"CeeCee, are you sure you don't want to go to the party?" Mark asked in concern

"Because we all know what a party animal I am."

"Okay," he laughed.

"Would you like to go out to eat?" Mom asked, "We could go anywhere you want and make it into a birthday/graduation thing since we missed celebrating Mark's birthday."

"Allison, why don't you and Mark head to the apartment," Nick suggested without taking his eyes off me. "CeeCee and I will join you in a bit."

"Nick," there was definitely an apprehensive note in Mom's voice and the consternation in her face was obvious.

"I've kept my promise, Allison, and followed every one of your rules to the letter," Nick said still watching me while he was talking to Mom. "CeeCee has a right to know."

My heart sank to my feet. He was going to tell me about him and Mom right away...of course he wouldn't want to wait any longer than he had to. They had no clue I already knew.

I wasn't sure I was ready for it to be put into actual words, but I desperately wanted Mom to be happy again. She deserved to be happy. I had sworn to myself that I would do everything I could to keep from causing her any more pain and I meant it. I would get over Nick in time.

Keeping my distance, for the most part, the first couple of years might confuse Mom, but in the long run, it would be the best thing for me to do.

I hadn't told anyone that I was hoping to attend college in either Colorado or California, but I knew I wasn't strong enough to stay in Texas, especially in the same town where they would be living; Austin was definitely out.

"CeeCee...?"

Nick was going to allow me to choose whether or not to go with him, but I realized I would have to deal with it sooner or later. I was through living in denial and it would do absolutely no good for me to put it off.

"Let's go," I said abruptly.

Taking off my graduation robe and handing it and my graduation cap to Mom, I turned to follow him. Mom stopped me with a hug.

"I love you," she whispered, tears in her eyes.

Did she know? Had she realized how much pain I was suffering? Her "I love you" sounded more like "goodbye". I guess I hadn't been as good at covering up as I thought.

"I love you, too," I hugged her back.

Nick gently took my hand and led me to the exit. Once we hit the parking lot, he seemed in a hurry. His pickup was parked a long way from the door, and half way there I yanked on his hand and said, "Slow down already, I'm not wearing running shoes."

"Sorry," he apologized as he complied, "I'm feeling a little impatient tonight."

The pain that shot through me at that statement took my breath away. My chest felt tight, the all too familiar lump had suddenly appeared in my throat, and I had to fight back the tears. He obviously wanted to have it over with quickly so he could get back to Mom.

Suddenly, I didn't think I could go through with it...not yet, maybe not ever. It hurt more than I could say—I just didn't have the words—but I knew I couldn't go any farther.

"What's wrong?"

"I...can't," I whispered, unconcealed pain in my voice.

"Your shoes bothering you again?" he asked sympathetically.

I couldn't get any words past the lump in my throat, so I just shook my head and tried to pull my hand out of his grip.

"CeeCee," Nick's voice was gentle, "trust me."

I looked at him wordlessly for a full minute before nodding my head. I did trust him and I knew he would never have intentionally hurt me. He was about to break my heart in two, but I couldn't help myself. I loved him.

When we got to his pickup, he helped me up into the seat. I needed to stop wearing things with straight skirts; they had no maneuverability.

Neither one of us said a word. I had no idea where we were going, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

Over and over I repeated, like a litany, in my head:

You can do this, you can do this, you can do this...

But it kept turning into:

no I can't, no I can't, no I can't...

It took me a few seconds to realize we had stopped moving. Nick had already put the pickup in park and was watching me. I looked around and...

"Why are we at the church building?" I asked bewildered.

"Because this is where it all started," Nick answered ambiguously, "Stay there and I'll come around and help you out."

Darn skirt.

Nick opened the door, and I turned around in the seat. Putting his hands around my waist, he lifted me down.

I dropped my hands from his shoulders as soon as I was on the ground, although I didn't want to. I wanted desperately to have the right to leave them there, to let them...

I shuddered violently and Nick looked at me in concern.

"Are you cold?"

I shook my head and with one hand in the small of my back, he guided me over towards the activity center, stopping under the safety light. Turning me towards him, he encircled my waist with his hands.

"Do you remember the first time we saw each other?" Nick asked.

"Yes," I whispered.

I remember clearly how Mom's face had lit up when Mark had introduced them. Nick had looked deeply into her eyes. I guess I should have had some inkling then; maybe I had.

"I've waited a long time to do this...again," Nick bent down and softly touched his lips to mine.

I gasped in shock and tried to push him away.

What was he doing?

"CeeCee," Nick murmured, "I won't hurt you."

"What about Mom," I practically shrieked, "You're going to hurt her. She trusts you."

"I promise you, I did everything she asked me to do," Nick assured me, confusion in his voice.

"How could you kiss me? How could you betray her trust like that? You're a monster!"

I was practically hysterical, trying to break away from him before I lost control and gave in to him, returning his kiss with all of the passion I had locked up inside of me.

"She loves you and you're...you're..."

"CeeCee!" Nick's voice stopped me cold. "What the devil are you talking about?"

"You...and Mom...don't make me say it," I begged.

"You think your mom and I are...we're..." Nick was at a loss for words. "Are you crazy? She's my mother's age! Well, almost."

"Wait a minute," I could see the wheels turning and I knew what was coming, "Is that why you went off the deep end after Christmas? Because you thought...?"

I looked down, not wanting to answer him.

"CeeCee," grasping my chin between his thumb and the knuckle of his index finger he forced my head up to meet his eyes. "Mark wasn't responsible for it, was he? You were depressed because you thought that your mom and I were...that we...how could you think...? What could I have possibly done to give you that impression?"

Tears filled my eyes, threatening to spill over.

"But I heard you!" I accused him, finally finding my voice. "I heard you both talking about...about..."

"You were eavesdropping again. You know what they say about that."

"I didn't mean to," I defended myself hotly, "I didn't stay to listen, but I heard you both talking about your age difference, and that Mom wasn't ready..."

"You little idiot," Nick chuckled. "We were talking about you, and your mom not being ready to let you go."

"Me?"

"Yes you little nutcase."

Nick was trying to suppress his laughter.

"Stop laughing. This is so not funny," I fumed. "You might have given me a clue."

"You're right, this isn't funny, you ruined my whole planned speech, and...what d'ya mean a clue, you clueless wonder. I kissed you the very first day we met," Nick reminded me sternly.

"That didn't count," I disagreed. "You only did that to see if I would break your nose."

"I never said that."

"You said it was an experiment, and then you said no broken nose."

So there, I added silently. Maybe I haven't grown up that much after all, I admitted to myself ruefully.

"I was attracted to you the first time I laid eyes on you so the experiment was to find out if there was any chemistry between us...to see if you felt the same way. I desperately needed to know and since you wouldn't even let me get near you that day, I had to figure out something to do. The no broken nose thing was a separately stated fact."

"But the night I...you...why did you jerk away from me?"

I couldn't say the words out loud, I was too embarrassed, but I knew he would understand what I was talking about.

"You were in your thin, short whatever it is that you think passes for pajamas with your mom in the next room and Mark upstairs," Nick reminded me. "I'm not made of stone. Speaking of which, what about your picture that I keep by my bed...don't tell me you didn't see that. Mark told me you slept in my room the second night."

"Mark has a picture of me in his room," I objected. "It doesn't necessarily mean anything."

"Yes but does Mark hold it and stare longingly at it whenever he's talking to you on the phone?" he asked teasingly.

"You do?"

He nodded.

"Thankfully you weren't in my bed that Saturday morning when we were supposed to be at my parents' house and you couldn't seem to wake up," he smiled in remembrance. "I'm afraid my self control wouldn't have stretched that far, especially since you insist on wearing those practically non-existent pajamas."

I blushed, embarrassed at how I had looked that morning.

"I was horrified when I saw myself in the mirror," I mumbled looking down.

Putting his hand under my chin he forced me to look at him again as he said, "You're hair was all over the place," he smiled as his other hand moved to my hair caressing it, "and incredibly sexy."

I was beginning to have coherency problems, but I needed more answers...months worth of answers.

"But Mom has been with you every weekend since spring break."

How well I remembered the pain I'd suffered thinking of them together.

"She was visiting her mother in the nursing home," he corrected me gently. "You know how your mom feels about family. She couldn't bear to think of her there alone and forgotten."

"She never said..."

"You never asked," Nick shook his head at me.

"I...you...but why would Mom object to my Christmas present? Don't get me wrong, it was beautiful, but..."

"That was a last minute substitution," Nick explained releasing my hair and pulling a velvet box out of his inside coat pocket. "This is the real gift. I've had it for months waiting for the chance to put it around your lovely neck."

My hands were shaking badly as I reached for the box. Nick, taking pity on me, helped me lift the hinged lid.

"Your Mom guessed how I felt about you at the dance."

He took the necklace out of the box and turned me around while I automatically lifted my hair so he could fasten it. He planted a kiss on each side of my neck, which sent shivers all through my body.

"It was glaringly obvious to everyone; well, everyone but you," he amended. "I wasn't sure you felt the same way until the weekend you met my family. At first, I thought you were interested in my brother, and I felt like all kinds of a fool for introducing you. I even threatened to beat Daniel within an inch of his life, and I still may do it if he doesn't leave you alone, but Mom convinced me that I was the one you wanted."

I dropped my hair and fingered the pair of intertwined diamond hearts. Of course I wanted him, had wanted him from the first. Could it be true? Did he really want me? Why would someone as wonderful as Nick choose me?

My thoughts were all mixed up, I couldn't focus. I was so confused. How could I have misunderstood everything so badly? Months of convincing myself I could live without him, desperate to find a way to do so, praying for the strength to be able to let go...

Could I believe it wasn't a dream...that it was real?

"Now admit it; even you would have figured out how I felt about you if I had given you that as a Christmas present," he said as he gently turned me back around to face him. "I couldn't believe it the night of the dance when you asked me if we could be friends after I had just spent the most blissful hour of my life with you in my arms."

"You were always on my case, treating me like a child," although the words were accusatory, my tone was full of wonder.

"When we met you were only seventeen and trying to deal with too much at once all by yourself," he said softly. "I wanted to help, you wouldn't believe how much I wanted to be able to help ease your pain, but you resisted me every step of the way," he chuckled. "That's why I forced my annoying presence on you every chance I got. You about killed me that first time we ran together." He added more seriously, "When we're married I won't let you keep everything all bottled up inside you like that. When I got your mom's phone call that you were in the hospital..." he broke off, unable to continue for a moment. "Let's just say, I never want to go through that again."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, feeling his pain. "Wait...married?"

"Don't you dare ask if we can be friends," he threatened me, laughing, "Although I want that, too. Seriously though, CeeCee, that is the other promise I made to your mother. I won't rush you. I realize there is an age difference between us, and that you're still very young. I want you to be absolutely sure before you agree to marry me, because once you do, I won't be able to let you go."

I only caught part of what he was saying...I was so stunned.

"You want to marry me?"

"I love you, CeeCee," all joking was gone and he was using his bedroom voice again.

"You...love...me?" I gasped out the question, searching his eyes for the truth.

Until he said the actual words, my brain wouldn't let me accept what my heart had known all along. Through all of the terrible misunderstandings and doubts that had plagued me, I couldn't prevent myself from believing deep down that we were meant for each other...soul mates.

I was no longer trying to protect myself from unbearable pain. I could feel myself opening up, becoming vulnerable, and I could finally see what was in his eyes, hear what was in his voice, what other people had already seen, what had always been there if I had just been able to accept it.

He truly loved me. It was unconditional; I didn't have to earn it or be afraid to lose it, it was mine forever if I wanted it. That was what he had been saying every night; instead of "Sleep well, CeeCee" it had been "I love you, CeeCee".

"You really are oblivious aren't you?" he said, the teasing note back in his voice. Soberly he added, "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you how I felt before, but deep down I agreed with your mother that you were too young to deal with the intensity of my feelings for you. I thought my actions were shouting it at you every time I was around you or talking to you on the phone and I admit to being insanely jealous first of Michael and then Daniel. Intellectually, in theory, I knew you needed to see other people so you would be able to have a basis for comparison, but in practice I wanted you to see only me."

"But you were right," I assured him, "I only kissed Michael to try to forget you. Daniel, on the other hand, admitted that he was playing with me in order to mess with your head. I think he's jealous of you."

"He succeeded," Nick grimaced in remembrance. Dragging his thoughts back to the present, he smiled lovingly into my eyes and said, "I love you and want to marry you, but I understand if you aren't ready for that type of commit..."

"I love you, too" I interrupted. "If you're asking me to marry you, the answer is yes."

I heard Nick's sharp intake of breath.

"Are you sure?" he asked almost roughly. "I don't want you to rush into anything. I'm a lot older than you are, and no matter how painful it may be for me, I need you to take as much time as you need and do whatever it takes to make sure you're ready before you say yes."

"I've never wanted anything in my life as much as I want to be your wife."

I held his gaze, willing him to believe me.

"When I thought you were..." I drew in a sharp breath as the familiar pain struck me, "Well, you were there, you know what a mess I was."

I cringed as a spasm of pain crossed his face.

"I've been preparing myself for months to try to live without you. I was even going to go out of state to college because I knew I wasn't going to be able to handle being so close to you and not..."

Once again, I felt the sting of tears as they began pooling in my eyes. I couldn't help it; the pain was still too fresh to have dissipated entirely.

"If I had only known," he groaned, "I would have never kept my promise to your mother."

I put my fingers on his lips, thrilled that I had the right, and said simply, "I needed to grow up and I believe I have." I continued, "Even though I had to experience a lot of pain to get to this point, I'll never be sorry...otherwise I wouldn't be ready to say 'yes' to you; and I am ready. Please believe me."

As we stood there, Nick searched my face for long moments. What he saw must have convinced him.

"So once again, from the top," Nick said in satisfaction as he pulled me towards him.

I didn't resist.

The End

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