Jonathan sat on the bench watching them walk toward him.

They still held hands and that relieved him.  Alicia had been strangely quiet around Em, something unnatural for his expressive little sister.

Neither of them were speaking, but they seemed—comfortable with each other.

As for him?  Em made him uncomfortable.  She made him downright squirrelly.

This day had quickly turned into a farce, with him losing his grip on his mind.  Watching her at the railing of the ferry had undone him in ways that scared him.  He could actually feel the tethers he kept on his control slipping.

She’d looked so alive with her head flung back and her golden blond hair lifting on the breeze.  So content in the moment.

What was it about her that called to him on levels he tried to keep buried?  She didn’t come close to fitting the profile of the stylish, poised woman he wanted at his side.

The woman walking toward him had dead straight hair with absolutely no style.  As far as he could tell, her makeup consisted of a hint of lip gloss and maybe a little liner around her eyes.  No primping, no pouffing.  And her clothes.  She didn’t look like the bag lady wannabe of yesterday, but her simple shorts and T-shirt screamed bargain brand.  Not the he had a problem with her simple tastes; it was just such a shocking difference to what he considered the norm.

He thought of Deirdre, a friend and client.  They’d known each other for years, but over the last few months had spent a lot of time together.  He was at the point of suggesting a change in their relationship.  Something more serious.  With a view to something more permanent.

He’d given the matter much consideration and felt that they were a good match.  Not because of some flighty, ephemeral feeling.  His father had approached relationships and look where it landed him.  No, Jonathan had made his choice based on logic and common sense.   Deirdre being beautiful and well dressed was simply a bonus.

But she’d never started a flash fire in him with just a look.

He’d never looked into her eyes and had all of his senses sharpen to the point of near pain.

He’d never seen a wounded look shadow those eyes and want to shift time and space so he could take it away.

He knew he’d hurt her.  But she had a way of making him forget himself, and he’d been about to reveal things he shared with no one. Fortunately, his brain had started functioning again and he’d turned the conversation back around to her and her venture.  Except he’d got carried away and started firing questions at her.  And when he’d realized she obviously didn’t have any kind of real plan in place, that she’s just moved across the country on a whim, he’d been appalled.

It was so contrary to what he believed in.  What he tried hard to live by.

Had he made a mistake in bringing her into their lives?  He tried hard to teach Alicia to lead with her head, not her heart.  He’d always tried to provide her with a counterpoint to their father’s way of making decisions.

What kind of influence would Em be on his little sister?  On him?

Chapter Five

They trucked into the house just before six, and Estelle came out to great them.

“So, little Miss, did you get to ride the ponies?”

“Yeah! Two times!”

“Excellent.  Where’s my hug?”

M watched as Estelle carefully bent down to hug Alicia.  As she slowly returned to an upright position, she looked at Jonathan and said, “Have you eaten?  I know you told me not to worry about dinner, but I could still whip something up for everyone.”

Jonathan walked over and pressed a kiss to her forehead.  “Thanks, but you didn’t have to wait around.  Why don’t you go on home?  We can order in pizza, or maybe Chinese.”

“But…”

“No buts.  You’ve known me my entire life, so you’re well aware I can look after myself.  I want you to go home and put your feet up.  Relax.  Promise?”

Estelle pretended to grumble at him, but the mischief in her eyes belied her tone.

A few minutes later, she had her things together and Jonathan showed her out the door.  Once he’d closed it behind her, he leaned back against it, a wrinkle marring normally smooth forehead.

As he heaved a sigh and pushed himself away from the door, M said, “You’re worried about her.”

He pushed a hand through his hair.  “Yeah.  I have extra help that comes in a few times during the week to give her a hand with the heavier work, but she won’t let me do anything else for her.  She says she can handle it.”

“She’s proud.”

“Yeah, well, she’s also like a parent.  The only one I have left.  Anyway, let’s figure out what we’re going to eat.”

Installment 16 Coming Soon!

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M found herself struck by the need to laugh and cry at once.  Laugh at the fierceness with which this little girl tried to defend her big brother—okay, and the fact the letter L seemed to be missing from Alicia’s own personal alphabet.  And cry because this is what it should be like.  This is what she’d been missing in her life.  The love, the loyalty, the protection of family.

“I’m sorry, sweetie.  You’re right, I shouldn’t yell.  Sometimes grown ups forget the very things they try to teach kids.  Kinda crazy, isn’t it?”

“Uh huh.  Daddy and Jonny awways to’d me I’m not ‘upposed to yewh at peopoh, but sometimes they did it.”

“How about we all make a promise, okay?  We’ll all try hard not to yell at each other, and…,” M skewered Jonathan with a look, “We will try hard not to do are say things that makes somebody want to yell.  Does that sound fair?”

Jonathan, who’d been watching the exchange in silence, finally spoke.  “I think that sounds like a good idea, don’t you, kiddo?”

Now free of the pony, she skipped over to Jonathan.  “Uh huh.  Nobody can yewh.”  She cast a stern look at M.  “If you do, Jonny gets to give you a spanking.”

Oh honey, why?  Why did you have to paint such a picture in my mind?

M silently cursed her fair skin as she felt heat rise in her cheeks and knew it would be impossible for him to miss.

And like a fool, instead of turning away from him, she looked up at him.

And the heat spread.

Damn it, she didn’t even like him, and knew that even if he trusted her with his sister, he found her wanting in other ways.

Yet the innocent remark of a child stoked something in both of them.  The fire in his eyes left no doubt.  She wasn’t the only feeling this sudden breathless intensity.

For a moment, everything else faded away, and they were just two people lost in each other’s eyes, sharing a dialogue where words were redundant.  Asking questions, avoiding answers, until both of them had to look away to escape being sucked into something they both knew they shunned on the cognitive level.

His cell phone rang.

Thank God.  A distraction.

He looked at his call display, and sighed.  “I’m sorry, I was hoping this wouldn’t happen, but I’m going to have to take this call, and it could be a while.  Can you two amuse each other for the time being?”

M looked at Alicia.  “Whadya say, partner?  Shall we go find an ice cream cone?”

Alicia looked at her brother.

Jonathan squatted down.  “It’s okay. You go with Em, and when you come back I’ll be waiting on that bench over there, okay?”

She looked at the bench, looked at M, then back at her brother.  “For reow?”

He nodded.  “For real.  I’ll be here.”

“’Kay.”

M found herself surprised—and something else she couldn’t name—when Alicia took the hand she offered.

They set off together, both silent, both seemingly content in their silence.

The fact that Alicia seemed to be thawing towards her relieved her more than she cared to admit.  The frozen treatment would have made life difficult.  Not to mention Jonathan could very well have decided to axe the deal if Alicia didn’t like her.

They were eating their soft ice cream cones, on their way back to Jonathan, when Alicia stumbled and lost hold of her treat.

Cold ice cream landed on M’s foot, and she gasped at the shock.

Alicia froze.  Then she hunched her shoulders and backed up a step.  “I’m sorry.  It was an accident.”

Huge brown eyes stared up at M.  “Are you going to hit me?”

Oh God.  Oh God, oh God, oh God.  No, no, no.

She’d been afraid of this.

M closed her eyes, threw out a brief, but desperate prayer, begging for the guidance to deal with this.

She opened her eyes and looked at Alicia.  “No, I am not going to hit you.  Not now, not ever.”

She tried to grin when what she wanted to do was scream.

“But you know, sweetie, this is cold and sticky.  And it’s oozing between my toes, and feels yucky.  Could you help me wash it off?”

Alicia treated her to the same contemplative look she’d given her earlier.  “You promise you won’t hit me?”

M crossed her heart.  “Cross my heart.”

Another moment of silence, then, “’Kay.”

Once in the washroom, M sat Alicia up on the counter.  “Tell you what.  I’m going to take my shoe off, then stick my foot in the sink.  Can you wash it off for me?”

“’Kay.”

She kept Alicia up on the counter once her foot was shod and back on the floor.  “Alicia, I want to talk to you for a minute, and I want you to be honest with me, okay?”

A nod.

M swallowed.  Hard.  “Did Summer hit you?”

No answer.

“Alicia?”

“Wioh you be mad at me?”

“No.  I’ll be mad at Summer, not you.  Did she ever hit you?”

A nod.

Oh God.  When will it end? She’d promised herself that she’d never again apologize for her family, and how many times had she wanted—needed—to in the last few days?

She gently cupped Alicia’s cheeks and kissed her on the forehead.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so, so sorry.  Summer should never have hit you.  Didn’t you tell your daddy or Jonny about it?”

Alicia slowly swung her head from side to side.  “She said she’d hit me more if I to’d them.  She said she’d hurt Daddy too.”

Her chin dropped to her chest and M had to strain to hear the rest of her words.  “I never to’d no one, but she hurt Daddy anyway.”

I am not the product of my environment.  I am not the product of my environment.  Even if Summer was, I am not!

“I promised I’d never hit you.  Will you promise me something?”

“What?”

She picked Alicia up, intending to set her on the floor, but instead held her, hugged her.  “I want you to promise not to keep secrets from Jonny.  If someone hurts you, or makes you scared, promise me you’ll run as fast as you can and tell Jonny.  Even if someone says something bad will happen, okay?”

“Even if it’s you?”

M squeezed her eyes, desperately trying to contain her tears.  “Yes.  Even if it’s me.”

“’Kay.”

The tears leaked through when she felt small arms wrap around her neck.

Go to Installment 15

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After he paid for ride passes, she asked, “Do you need to pick up a brochure and a map?”

“Nope.  We know this place like the backs of our hands, don’t we, Allioop?  Which way from here?”

“This way!”  She pulled on his hand, leading them to the left, along a pathway that hugged a channel of water separating Centre Island and another small island.

The amusement park itself proved to be charming—except for the faint odour emanating from the petting zoo at the far end.

“All right, kiddo.  This is your show.  What do you want to do first?”

Alicia didn’t hesitate.  Bouncing up and down in front of her brother, she bellowed, “Pony ride!  Pony ride!”

M winced.  She hated to admit it, but she did feel a measure of satisfaction at the return of the loud kid of yesterday.  If, one day, Alicia made M’s ears bleed, she’d rather the noise stemmed from joy, not some form of angst.

Moments later he had her astride, and he headed back to stand beside M.  She couldn’t control the surge of alarm that shot through her.

“Ah, shouldn’t you stay beside her?  What if she falls?”

He started to laugh when he saw her expression, but suddenly his look of merriment changed to one of reflection.

He tilted his head.  “You really are worried about her, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes.  She could hurt herself if she falls.”

“Take a look at her.  Look closely.  Does she seem afraid?  Unsure?”

M took a deep breath and concentrated on Alicia.  “Um, no.  I guess not.”

“She’s fine, and she doesn’t need me hovering.  My father and I had her on a horse a year ago.  She’s a natural.  The pony is nothing.  Are you afraid of horses?  Or ponies?”

She let her breath out and shrugged.  “I wouldn’t know.  I’ve never been around them.”

As a child, some of her schoolmates rode or took lessons, but not her.  She’d been lucky if her parents put food on the table; forget about forking over the cash to pay for riding lessons.

“Then we’ll need to make sure we change that.  Alicia has been begging for her own horse for a year now, but it’s not going to happen.  At least not when we live in the city and would have to stable it elsewhere.  But we’ll go riding sometime again in the fall, and you can come along.”

She decided to ignore the last comment.  “Are you thinking about moving out of the city?”

“I think about it occasionally.  I have some ideas…”

He shut his mouth, visibly drew himself in, and changed the subject.  “What about you?  Why did you move here?”

Keeping her eyes on Alicia, she answered.  “I want to start my own business here.  I needed a place to stay, and Summer had told me I could stay with her—maybe—if I ever needed a place.  I quit my job, sold my car for some extra capital, and moved out here.”

“What kind of business?”

She glanced down at the ground, shrugged, then returned her gaze to the pony rides.  “I’m a chef.  I’d love to open my own restaurant, but…”

“But?  I guess you know how difficult the restaurant business is.  I’m a CA, and some of my clients are restaurateurs.  The statistics for new restaurants are frightening, aren’t they?”

“What statistics?”  Damn, she hadn’t meant to voice her question.  But as her mind grappled with his disclosure of being a Chartered Accountant, it slipped out.

Her first impression of him yesterday had been uptight and humourless.  Dry and boring.  The Accountant news fit that impression.  But the more time she spent around him, the more she realized something quite different lurked underneath.

His voice brought her back to the present.  “There’s a high failure rate for new restaurants.  A third of them go out of business in the first year, and about seventy percent of them in the first five.  What about your financing? Do you have it nailed down?  What bank are you working with?  I’d be happy to look over your business plan.”  He spread his hands.  “This is what I do.”

He was obviously in his element, firing all those questions at her.  But the more he talked, the more inept he made her feel.

A business plan?  Well, she had an idea—kinda—in her head, but she had a feeling he meant something far different.  And he wanted to know if she had bank financing?

Thankful for the excuse watching Alicia provided, she didn’t look at him.  Sticking her hands in her pockets, she said, “Ah, no.  That wasn’t where I was going when I said but.  I’d like to open a restaurant, but um…I’m thinking of starting a catering business instead.”

“Ah, that’s a good choice.  You don’t need huge start up costs, and there’s certainly a demand.  So, what plans do you have in place?”

She was evil and deserved to be struck by lightning, but she started to wish Alicia would have some sort of accident.  Anything to stop him from asking questions she couldn’t answer.

“Um, plans?”

Unfortunately, she turned her gaze away from Alicia to him.  Her timing sucked, since at that moment a look of—what?  Disbelief?  Stupefaction? Disgust?—crossed his face.

She’d been mocked and looked down at all her life, but she could tell you, it never got any easier to take.

“You do have some sort of plan in place, don’t you?”

She angled her chin upward.  “Of course.  Just nothing…concrete.”

He narrowed his eyes, as if he were trying to pierce through skin and bone with his gaze in order to see her thoughts beneath.

Yeah, right. She gave herself a mental shake.  He isn’t Superman, and he doesn’t have x-ray vision.

“Okay, so you’re still in the early planning phase.  What have you got in place so far?  I know caterers do a lot of their work onsite, but they also have a lot of prep work they do elsewhere.  Have you rented kitchen space somewhere?  Or are you setting up with a partner who has the space in their home?  And what about transportation?  Do you have a van or truck of some sort for hauling supplies?”

M thought of the promise she’d made to herself after calling her parents earlier.  She’d refused to allow her own mother get her down.  The same held true for this—stranger.  She might not have her own little brain trust going on, but she wasn’t lazy or stupid.  She had goals and motivation.  She would work hard and achieve those goals.

She clenched her fists and got right up in his face.  “None of this is your business, is it?  You hired me to do a job, so keep your questions centred on that.  Will I let my personal business interfere with Alicia?  No.  That’s all you need to know.  You don’t need to know anything about my business, nor do I need to tell you.  Got it?”

“Yes.  I’m…”

“Jonny?”

They both swung toward Alicia.  Her face expressed the distress of her voice as her gaze bounced back and forth between Jonathan and M, before lighting on M.

She sat astride, waiting her turn as the attendants helped the other children off their ponies.  Unfortunately, her ride had come to a halt not far from where they stood, and she’d obviously been privy to M’s outburst.

Propping her hands on her hips, she glared at M.  “Don’t you yewh at my Jonny!”

Go to Installment 14

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It was their usual Sunday night routine. Saying goodbye.

Their youngest, baby Ella, bounced in her mother’s arms until her dad leaned over and planted a raspberry on her cheek eliciting squeals of delight.

Jessica’s lips curled despite the heaviness in her heart.

As a pharmaceutical sales person, travel was a part of Jack’s job description that she’d grown to accept. But it didn’t make saying goodbye any easier.

After smothering their other two kids in hugs and kisses, Jack hopped into the waiting hired car with a wave and a smile. Jessica’s stomach clenched as she thought about how exciting his life on the road must be—business meetings with doctors, dinner at new restaurants every evening, nights spent in luxurious hotels.

After their oldest, Connor, was born, Jessica made the decision to quit her job as a nurse and stay home full time. Now with three kids under five, she still loved every moment of her time at home. But that was her. Whenever she said goodbye to Jack she couldn’t help wondering if he found their home life dull compared to his travels.

Did he look forward to getting back on the road?

Jessica felt a tug on her pant leg pulling her back from her worries.

“Can I have a drink?” asked three year old Zoë.

“Of course, Sweetie,” Jessica replied as she patted the girl’s curly blonde head. She grabbed three plastic cups from the cupboard, and as she poured a round of apple juice for the masses her concerns about Jack were quickly forgotten.

On Monday night, the phone rang at precisely six o’clock. Jessica’s heart pounded with anticipation. Whenever he traveled, Jack always managed to sneak away and call home at the same time. No matter what.

When she picked up the phone, Jessica could barely hear him over the raised voices and clinking of silverware on dishes. He was at dinner with clients.

The kids jumped at her legs anxious to talk to Daddy. After each had their turn, Connor passed her the phone. “It’s your turn, Mommy.”

But as soon as she raised it to her ear, she heard Jack say, “Sorry, hun. Gotta go.”  He was practically shouting to be heard. “Dr. Watts is about to leave, and I haven’t gotten a commitment from him yet. I’ll call you tomorrow. Love you.”

She let out a heavy breath but told herself she could wait until tomorrow to tell him about Zoe’s attempt to dress the cat in a princess gown and tiara.

But on Tuesday evening, Jessica returned home at six-ten following what was supposed to be a quick stop at the grocery store—an impossibility with three kids in tow—to find a message from Jack.

“I won’t be able to call back tonight,” his voice rang out. “The only time Dr. Bryson can meet with me is this evening. Kisses and hugs to everyone.” He sounded distracted, as though he was in a hurry to get off the phone.

Her heart sunk.

The tiara story really isn’t that exciting anyway.

On Wednesday evening, six o’clock came and went with no phone call. Even though she knew he was due home the next night, disappointment weighed heavy in her chest. Her first instinct was to worry. He’d never missed a call before. Had something happened?

Calm down. He’s probably busy with a client, her common sense told her.

But then that meant he’d gotten too busy or just forgot to call.

Either option caused her heart to tighten uncomfortably. But she tried to ignore the sensation as she joined in the kids’ lively dinnertime conversation.

A few hours after the kids were asleep Jessica heard a noise at the front door. Her heart thudded in her chest. Who could it be? She wasn’t expecting anyone.

Wiping her dish soapy hands on a towel, she walked cautiously to the front window to check it out.

But before she reached the foyer, the door swung open and Jack walked into the house. Jessica’s breath caught in her throat, and she rushed to her husband throwing her arms around his neck.

“You’re early!” she mumbled into his shoulder. Her heart sped like crazy—partly from surprise but mostly due to the thrill of seeing Jack.

“I couldn’t stand the thought of being away for another night, so I squeezed all of my appointments into three days. That’s why I’ve been so busy.”

And he couldn’t call tonight because he’d been on a plane, she realized. A pang of guilt gripped her stomach. How could she have doubted him?

He dropped his small suitcase and returned her embrace with both arms. “I’ve had enough stuffy business dinners and lonely hotel stays to last a life time.”

“I thought you liked traveling,” she said tentatively.

Jack pulled back and looked into her eyes. “The only part I like about being away is coming home to you and the kids.”

A wave of relief washed over her leaving a warm glow in its wake. Feeling closer to Jack than ever before, Jessica leaned in and pressed her lips to his.

When she pulled away, she couldn’t help smiling. “Do you want to hear what Zoë did to the cat on Monday?” she asked.

And as they cuddled up on the couch together, the sparkle she saw in Jack’s blue eyes as she talked about their life, their children left no doubt in her mind.

Home really is where his heart is.

The End

Learn more about Marcy Bassett-Kennedy at her SHOWCASE PAGE.

Chapter Four

It took a while to find a parking spot.

“I didn’t even think to check and see if the Blue Jays had a home game today.  If I had’ve known the boys of summer were in town, I might’ve vetoed this particular trip.”

M grinned back at Alicia.  “We’re not worried about a bunch of baseball fans, are we sweetie?  We’ll find a spot to park eventually.”

Alicia smiled back, but didn’t say anything.

They did find a spot, and she managed to back in without causing any damage to the Beemer.

Jonathan looked at his watch.  “Well ladies, we have a choice.  Run to the docks to catch the ferry, or stroll and wait when we get there.  What’s your vote?”

M would rather not run, but decided she’d defer to Alicia.  “What do you think?  Walk or run?”

Alicia scrunched up her face, obviously deciding deep thought was necessary before answering.  She looked up at her brother.  “Will you carry me if we run?”

He made a funny face and shook his head.  “No way.  Run or walk, but you’re using those two little legs of yours.”

“Okay.  Let’s run!”

Ten minutes later M stood on the deck of the ferry, thankful for the slight, but cooling, breeze.

The afternoon had barely begun, and surprisingly, she was enjoying herself.

She’d been honest when she told Jonathan she didn’t know a lot about children.  None of her friends had any so she could count the amount of time she’d spent in the presence of a child in minutes.

She had a feeling Alicia would prove to be a source of endless amusement.  She definitely got a kick out of watching her trying to play Jonathan.

Her level of confidence amazed M.  Despite losing her father—and who knew what had happened to her real mother—she appeared to be a well adjusted little girl.

M couldn’t remember much of her own childhood.  After being involved in too many conversations where friends talked about things that happened in grade one, or friends they had when they were small, she’d done some research.  Why could they recall these events when she couldn’t?

There could be some merit to the whole “ignorance is bliss” concept.  Reading about meta-memory, and learning how children who are neglected and/or abused often don’t remember the early years hadn’t comforted her.  It had only widened the chasm between us and them.  A chasm she resented and constantly tried to bridge.

In one way or another she’d been odd man out her entire life.  She hated it.  It seemed as though the harder she tried to fit in, the more she became aware of her dissimilarities.

Summer had tried to overcome their past by using her looks.  Her face had gained her entrance into another lifestyle.  Unfortunately, Summer’s choices had led her into a life just as immoral and corrupt as their parent’s, it just looked better on the outside.  Money could do that.  How she’d ended up married to William Davenport remained a mystery.

M, not having her sister’s looks, and an aching need to be accepted by what she considered to be “normal” people, had gone a different route.

She sighed and forced her inward gaze out.

It was a beautiful day to be on the Lake, and she’d never made this particular trip.   Although Toronto’s small, secondary airport, known locally as the Island Airport, blocked her view of Ontario Place to the west, she had an unrestricted view across the water to the east.  In front of her, to the south, their destination drew closer.

Toronto’s small clutch of islands offered something for everyone.  From the clothing optional beach on Hanlan’s Island to the children’s amusement park and petting zoo on Centre Island, and a host of interesting options in between.

Surrounded by the sounds of summer, M suddenly felt a sense of freedom she hadn’t experienced in eons.

She closed her eyes and—revelled.  The screech of gulls overhead and the boisterous laughter of children came together in a cacophony that should have unsettled her.

It made her smile.

From the shore, the scent of barbeque wafted on the air and battled with the occasional nasty odour spit up by the Lake.

She tilted her head back and inhaled.

She felt gloriously alive.

She’d come to Toronto with great hopes.  Those hopes had dimmed—nearly expired—when she learned of her sister’s death, but standing here, they rekindled.  She felt as though she stood on the cusp of something great, something momentous, and she vowed to hold on to that feeling.

Jonathan’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.  “You’re awfully quiet.”

M looked at them.  He had Alicia perched on his shoulders, her chubby little legs wrapped like a vice around his neck, and pudgy fists clutching his hair.

The look on her face attested to her total confidence in him.  M suspected that even if he hadn’t had a hold of his sister’s knees, keeping her steady, a carefree expression would still be plastered across her face.

They looked like father and daughter, not brother and sister.  Not in appearance.  Something much deeper.

“You two are very close.  She’s lucky to have you.”

“I think we’re both lucky.  We’ve managed to keep each other sane the last few months.”

M hung her head and looked at her toes.  “I’m sorry about that.”

“I’m fairly confident you shouldn’t be apologizing for your sister’s actions.”

She sighed.  “You’re right, but still…”

“I know.  It’s okay.  Let’s just focus on having fun this afternoon, all right?  I really want you and Alicia to get along.”

M looked up and caught Alicia looking at her with an expression far beyond her years.  Reminiscent of the way Mrs. Brickman had gazed discerningly at her.

She smiled up at her, hoping what they said about kids and dogs was true.  That they were good judges of character.   “I’ll try my best to get along with you, Alicia.  Can you do the same with me?  And if I do something wrong, ‘cause I really don’t know that much about kids, will you tell me?”

She received a cautious nod in answer.

“Good.  And remember, you promised me a show and tell while we’re here.”

This time Alicia grinned and said, “Okay.”

A whole word!  Progress.

Moments later the ferry bumped into the dock and they waited their turn to disembark.

Looking around her, M said, “I’m surprised there isn’t a bigger crowd here.”

“The Ex is open, so my guess is everyone is there.  Thankfully, Alicia is still content with Centreville.”

That made sense.  The Canadian National Exhibition—or The Ex—started late August and ran until Labour Day.  It had marked the end of summer for kids and families in central Ontario for decades.  And while it didn’t attract as many people as it had in its glory days, the fairgrounds, with a huge midway surrounded by shows and exhibits, were still a major attraction.

You couldn’t compare it with Centreville, a mere kiddie park.

Go to Installment 13

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Jonathan led the way out to the garage.  The four car garage.  “I’ll have to get her car seat out of my car and put it in the Beemer for now.  I’ll pick up another one tomorrow, so you have a permanent one here.”

M glanced at Alicia before asking, “Why didn’t Summer have a car seat in here already?”

“Because Summer…ah, because Summer liked the limo, remember?”

Judging from the look that crossed her face he didn’t need to explain that Summer had done her best to pretend that Alicia didn’t exist.  Playing mommy hadn’t been her thing.

A few minutes later, after he deftly buckled his sister into her car seat, M pulled out of the garage.

“Do you need directions?” Jonathan asked.

“Um, I’m pretty sure it’s a straight run down to the lake from here, right?”

“Right.  I’ll guide you out of the neighbourhood.  Once we get onto Avenue Rd, stay on it.  It’ll turn into University, then York, then we hit Queen’s Quay.  We’ll find somewhere to park along the Quay, then get the ferry.”

“How often does the ferry run in the summer?”

“Every half hour, so we shouldn’t have to wait too long when we get there.”

He settled back in his seat and tried not to be too obvious as he monitored her driving.  She was a prickly one, and he didn’t want to fire her ire again.  To the extent possible, he’d like this to be a relaxed afternoon.  Alicia needed a chance to get to know her, and he wanted to see how Em managed her.

His sister had been surprisingly reticent with Em, and that unsettled him a bit.  Generally, she bubbled with enthusiasm for new people and new things.  Sure, the last few months had been hard on her, hard on them both, but her reaction to Em — Emmanuela? — puzzled him.  Alicia and Summer had never been close, largely due to the fact that Summer had kept her at arm’s length, but why shy away from her sister like that?

He sighed.  This wasn’t turning out like he’d expected.  Somehow Em continually slipped under his guard.  He refused to be like his father, so easily swayed by a pretty face.  Okay, that was a little unfair and made his father sound shallow.  His father had spent the years after his mother’s death looking to replace — or at least come close to — the love they had shared.

Jonathan respected the bond that had held his parents together.  He wasn’t so lacking in emotion and common sense that he couldn’t recognize and accept the fact true love existed.

It was the way some went about finding it that he questioned.  People today were looking for love in the oddest places, and as far as he was concerned, they needed to rethink that.  He didn’t need to look too far to see what a bad match could mean.  Sure, people went into relationships with the best of intentions — for the most part — but the divorce rate was staggering.  Obviously, couples were doing something very wrong.  Right from the get go, in his opinion.

He planned to follow in his parent’s footsteps.  It was a rational, logical thing to do.  It had worked for them and it would work for him.  If — when — he married, it would be permanent.  For his sake, for his sister’s sake, and for the sake of any children he would have.

Jonathan returned his attention to her.  She handled the car competently, completely at ease.  He noticed the way she occasionally glanced back at Alicia.  She said she didn’t know much about children, but he’d bet she was a natural caregiver.

“When I pick up the car seat tomorrow, I’ll get you one of those little add-on mirrors for your rear-view mirror.”

She wrinkled her brow.  “Add-on mirror?”

“Yes.  You clip it on to the rear view and adjust it so you can see the back seat.  That way when you want to see what she’s up to, you don’t need to turn around.  I have one in my car.”

She glanced over her shoulder and smiled at Alicia.  “That sounds like a good idea.  I’ll be able to see you, and you can see me too.”  She let her eyes drift over him before returning them to the road.  “Thanks.”

He mentally patted himself on the back.  Yes, this was a good idea.  He had few misgivings that things would work out between Em and Alicia.  Whatever doubts he had — and he was honest enough with himself to admit he had them — were about how she would ultimately impact him.

As a teenager he’d plotted a course for his life.  A life where he kept all aspects of his personality resembling his father locked away in a vault.  He knew — beyond a shadow of a doubt — that his natural tendency was toward right-brain thinking and reactions.  After two decades of forcing his left-brain into dominance he’d become complacent.

He restrained a sour laugh.  Both intuition and impulse — right-brained characterises — had played a large part in his decision to hire her.

No matter how much he’d like to ignore it, a niggle of fear plagued him.  He had a premonition that Em — Ember? — could shake up a life he’d neatly stirred.  That she could force the spontaneous, touchy feely side of him out of hiding, and make him forget that he preferred to be rational, logical, analytical.

Go to Installment 12

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Jonathan and Alicia found her in the kitchen just after one o’clock.  She’d gone out, had a late breakfast, and picked up a few groceries.  She was putting the last of them away when they walked into the kitchen.

M looked at the two of them as they stood there holding hands.  She’d been too distraught yesterday to take a good look at Alicia.

Liar, liar, pants on fire.  You weren’t too distraught to notice her brother.

Despite the fact she was trying to hide behind her brother’s leg, M could see enough to know Alicia was a gorgeous child.  She shook her head.  Some people had it all.

That wasn’t fair.  Alicia may be beautiful and come from money, but she was an orphan.  No one could say she had it all.

She was about five years old, with dark hair and dark eyes.  Dressed in a denim skort, pink t-shirt, and matching pink sport sandals, she peeked at M and then dropped her eyes and let her lashes fan her cheeks.

M wondered if Jonathan had dressed her, and if he was the one to put her hair up in those two cute pony tails that stood straight up on top of her head

Not too sure how to act, and hating it, she said, “Hi, Alicia.  My name is M.  We met yesterday, remember?”

Alicia let go of her brother’s hand and clutched his leg instead.  Hugging tight, she bobbed her head at M.

Who was this little girl?  The shy act was so contrary to her behaviour of yesterday, it confused M.

She looked at Jonathan and raised her brows.

He laid his palm on the top of his sister’s head and leaned back a bit so he could see her face.  “Hey, Allioop.  Say hello to Em.  Remember I told you about her yesterday?  She’s Summer’s sister, and she’s going to stay with us.”

Allioop? So maybe Mr Stuffy, I Don’t Like Derivatives wasn’t so stuffy after all.

While that ran through M’s mind Alicia sunk farther into her brother’s side.  A horrible speculation blindsided her and she thought, no.  It couldn’t be.

She put her hands on her thighs and squatted in front of Alicia.  “Tell you what.  Let’s just get to know each other first, okay?”

Alicia nodded.

“Good.  Your brother said we were going to Centre Island.  I’ve never been there.  Have you been there before?”

Another nod.

“Then maybe, if you feel like it, you can do a little show…,” she bugged her eyes out, “…and tell.”  This time she used her hands against her mouth and imitated big flappy lips.

That got her a little more than a nod.  Alicia grinned, and for just a moment, sparkling brown eyes met M’s.

Jonathan looked at her as she stood up.  “You ready to go?”

She looked down at what she wore and decided it would have to do.  White shorts and a red tank-top.  After all, it was August in Toronto, which, when translated, meant stinking hot.  If you were going to be outside for any length of time, you dressed accordingly.  Both Jonathan and Alicia wore shorts as well.

“Um, yes.  But I just remembered something.  I mailed all my stuff from Winnipeg.  It should arrive here sometime today.”

“Don’t worry.  Mrs Brickman will sign for it if we’re not back yet.”

She grabbed her fanny pack off the counter.  “Then I’m ready when you are.”

Jonathan leaned down and picked up his sister.  “What about you, bobblehead?  Are you ready to go?”

Alicia grinned at him, obviously safe and comfortable in her brother’s arms.  “Uh-huh.”

How could one body host two such disparate personalities?  There was no comparing the man that stood before her now, and the man of yesterday.  Would the real Mr Jonathan Davenport please stand up?

He dug into his pocket and handed M a set of keys.

“Here, keys to the house and car.  Why don’t you drive.”

Huh.  Not a request.  More like a command.

She didn’t take the keys.  Arching a brow, she said, “Should I treat this like a road test?”

He gave her look for look.  “Yes.  I’m assuming your licence isn’t under suspension.  What about your driving record?  Is it clean?”

She couldn’t resist.  Utterly deadpan, she said, “You’re actually assuming a lot more than that.  You’re assuming I have a driver’s licence.  Who said I could drive?”

A look of shock crossed his face, and he snatched the keys away.   “What?  You said you could drive.”

M shook her head.  “No, I didn’t.  You told me I could use Summer’s Beemer, and I asked you how you knew I didn’t have a car.  Whether or not I could actually drive wasn’t discussed.”

While letting Alicia down to the floor with one arm, he dragged his other hand through his hair.  “Well, this isn’t going to work.  I can’t leave Alicia here all the time with someone who doesn’t drive.  Mrs Brickman can’t be doing it.”

She rolled her eyes.  Like there weren’t people all over the city, all over the world, that had kids but didn’t have cars.  “People that don’t own cars can get around, you know.”

Those beast of prey eyes glittered.  “I know that.  But my little sister doesn’t have to be one of them.”

She heaved a sigh and put out her hand.  “Give me the keys.  Of course I can drive.  But let this be a lesson to you.  You don’t know me, so don’t go around making assumptions about me.”

He didn’t hand the keys back.  “What?  I’m supposed to believe you this time?”

M planted her hands on her hips and thrust out her chin.  “Yes.  You are supposed to believe me.  I am not a liar.  I’m not a cheat.  And I’m not…”  She stumbled to a halt, her breath caught, and then she resumed.  “I’m not a thief.  I told you I can drive, and I can.  I never told you I couldn’t, I just questioned it.  If you want to call the Ministry of Transportation and get an abstract of my driving record, you go right ahead.”

Alicia tugged on his hand, trying to get him moving, but Jonathan held his ground and looked down at Em.  Something bigger was going on here, and he didn’t have a clue as to what it was.  Had someone doubted her honesty?  Her character?  As far as he was concerned she screamed trustworthy, so that didn’t make much sense to him.

Palm up, he stretched out his hand, offering her the keys.  “I believe you.  Now, would you like to drive us, or would you like me to?”

She hesitated, searched his eyes, then took the keys.  “Thank you.  I’m sorry for giving you a hard time, it’s just…” She lowered her eyes and gave her head a little shake.  Sighed.  “I’d like to drive.”

“Good.  Let’s get this show on the road, then.”

Go to Installment 11

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They were still chatting when Jonathan walked into the kitchen a while later.

“Good.  You two have met.”

M shifted in her chair as searching eyes roved over her face.  The look was almost — intimate.  As if it was his fingers drifting across her skin, not his eyes.

It made her spine tingle.  Made her breath catch.  Made her nervous — or something.

Finally, he spoke.  “Are you okay?”

It was so unfair.  He stood there in jeans and a pale blue golf shirt, looking oh so perfect.  Like he’d stepped off the pages of a magazine.  His wavy hair was either wet or he’d styled it with some glossy sort of gel.  Since he didn’t seem to be the stylin’ type, she weighed in on the wet side.  And as he walked by, she caught the scent of his cologne or aftershave.  Whatever it was — it was sensuous.  Her nose picked out citrus warmed with something spicy as it followed him.  Hmm, and did she catch a woodsy hint as well?  Surely not all three.  If so, a paradox that certainly worked for her.  Was it a reflection of the man within?

She turned her head — her nose — away and looked down at herself.  She looked like a train wreck.  Again.

Yeah?  So why do you care?  He’s nothing more than your boss.  Try to remember that.

“I’m fine, thanks.  Are we still on for this afternoon?”

He nodded.  “Yes.”

He grabbed a cup out of the cupboard, poured himself a coffee, then leaned back against the counter.  “She’s out back having her swimming lesson.  We’re heading to Centre Island sometime after lunch.  Does that work for you?”

“Yes, that’s fine.”  She glanced at Mrs. Brickman.  “Thanks for the company.  Would you both excuse me?  I need to go call my parents.”

Mrs. Brickman reached over and touched the back of her hand.  “Remember what I said, dear.”

M nodded.  “I will.  Thank you.”  She looked at Jonathan.  “Just give me a holler when you’re ready to go.”

“I will.”

She escaped.  Although what she was leaving behind was probably better than what she was about to face.  She hadn’t talked to her parents in years, and this conversation would be more difficult than most.

Oh, well.  Suck it up and get it over with.

She paused at the bottom of the grand staircase.  She’d never be able to look at a set of stairs the same way.  Somehow in the last two days, stairs had taken on allegorical proportions.  Yesterday she’d stood at the base of the steps outside assuring herself she could do what had to be done.  And here she was again.  Standing, gathering strength for the climb, shoring up her backbone as she mentally faced down a chore she’d rather not deal with.

She took a breath, put her head down, and climbed the stairs.

Her room had an alcove by the window.  At this time of day the sun shone through the glass and landed on the tub chair placed there. She sat, with her cell phone in her hand, trying to gain solace or vitality from the sun’s rays.  She wasn’t sure which.  Probably both.

Finally, unable to put it off any longer, she dialled her parent’s number.  Even though she hadn’t called them for years, she didn’t stop to wonder if they were in the same place.  Her parents would never have the initiative or the ambition to move.  They lived in the same spot they’d lived in when she was born.  They’d just upgraded the trailer to a new — make that slightly newer — model.  If they’d paid their phone bill, this was the number to call.

Her mother answered on the third ring.   ” ‘lo?”

“Hi, Mom.  It’s M.”

She shuddered in disgust when a phlegmy smoker’s cough assaulted her ear.  God, were they still wasting what little money they cheated the government out of on two packs a day each?

“Who?”

She wondered how many children phoned their mothers and were asked that question.  Unless a parent had some sort of dementia, it was unforgivable as far as M was concerned.  And it wasn’t that her mother wasn’t familiar with the name M.  She’d started calling herself that when she was nine.  She’d made everyone else call her that as well.

“Mother, I said it’s M.”

‘Oh.  Whadya want?  We ain’t got no money to give you, if that’s why you’re calling.”

The sun wasn’t helping.  No solace here.

“That’s not why I’m calling.  I’m in Toronto.  I got here yesterday and found out that Summer is dead.  I thought you should know.”

During the next few seconds — eternity — of silence, M felt tension ratchet up her body.  What had happened?  Had her mother hung up?

“D’ ya need us to come there?”

M nearly dropped the phone.  An offer of support?

Tears began to sprout.  That was the most thoughtful thing her mother had ever said to her.  Maybe her parents had changed.  Her heart warmed as endless possibilities swam through her head.

She could nearly hear the whoosh as tension drained from her body.  The steel left her spine, and she relaxed into the chair.

“I…”

“Cause we know she was married to that rich old man.  Did she leave us any money?  Do we have to come see lawyers or sign some papers to get it?”

M sat up, ramrod straight all over again.

How could she have been so stupid?  She had a lifetime’s worth of experience where her parents were concerned.  Why had she foolishly let herself believe they might have changed?

Charlie liked to tell her that not everything was black or white.  Well, it was in her life.

“M?  Answer me.”

“There is no money, Mother.  I just thought you might like to know that one of your daughters is dead.”

“Whadya mean there’s no mo…”

M ended the call.

She sat there, staring at the opulence surrounding her, refusing to cry.  She’d cried over her sister, and that was okay, but she categorically would not cry over her parents.

She was a miles away from them, literally and figuratively.  This room — this house — underscored that.  Much more important than the means of life though, was the way she lived her life.  Her parents may have gifted her with it, but she was the one who’d, all on her own, made something out of it.

But what about genetics?  Could she outrun her roots?  Was she destined to become her mother?  She didn’t want to believe that, but she was afraid she’d add veracity to the belief that children are a product of their environment.

Again, she thought of what Charlie often told her.  There were exceptions to every rule.  That everything couldn’t be black or white.  Life — living — demanded and created the greys in between.  But she had a hard time believing that.  Her life had taught her about the starkness of extremes, not the forgiveness of in betweens.

Last night she’d accepted that part of the reason for her roaming was a search for home, for family.  The flipside?  She was running as fast as she could from the home and family she’d started life with.  Because she knew — she’d known as a young girl — that there might be truth to the claim that she could be nothing more than her environment taught her to be.  One of those poor, white trash, McCallister girls.

If she was going to paint herself into a corner she couldn’t get out of, then so be it.  But she hoped it wasn’t the corner she’d spent a lifetime working her way out of.  With any luck, it would be the corner she constantly strived to reach.

M snorted.  Luck?  She didn’t believe in luck.  It was all about hard work.

She pushed herself out of the chair, and on the way to the bathroom, dropped her cell phone back in her purse.

After brushing her teeth, and washing her hands, she looked at herself in the mirror.  Pushed her shoulders back and made a promise to herself.

She wouldn’t reflect on the conversation with her mother and let it get her down.  She was done with looking at the past.  She’d be positive and use that phone call as a prod.  Whenever she needed a kick in the pants over the coming months, whenever she lost sight of her reasons for being here in the first place, she’d remind herself of her motivation.  She wasn’t her mother — or her father.  She had goals and ambition, and she was going to make something of her life.  And maybe, just maybe, one day she’d have a family she could be proud of.

Go to Installment 10

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Chapter Three

M couldn’t sleep.

Her body was exhausted, her spirit sapped, but her mind refused to hit the stop button.  She’d have been happy with pause, but she was stuck in an endless cycle of rewind, play, fast forward.  Rewind, play, fast forward.

A week ago she’d been so jazzed.  So full of hope and an edgy sort of optimism.  She’d really believed her time had come.  That she was about to find her place in the grand scheme of things.  Find the little niche that said, “This is where you belong.  You’re home.”

But the building blocks had tumbled before she even began.

In some far reach of her mind, she’d subconsciously been hoping her sister would be part of the equation.  That since they’d both be living in Toronto, they’d eventually find themselves back where they’d been when they were kids. The best of buds.

Given how different they were — had been — it was probably a foolish hope, but she’d so wanted to belong again.  She hadn’t really belonged since she was twelve.

Oh, she’d had relationships, friends and lovers both, but she hadn’t felt that special kind of connection since she and Summer drifted apart.

The connection of family.

She realized there were many kinds of family.  The bonds that forge a family could be blood, could be love, could be one, could be both.  And however pathetic, she knew she finally had to admit to herself that her constant roaming was actually a search.  A search for home, a search for family.

M rolled over onto her side, curling into a fetal position around a spare pillow.

Tears began to flow, and before long she was sobbing desperately.

Summer was gone.

No more opportunities to make amends.   She’d wasted so much time assuming there would be a tomorrow.  Tomorrow was here, Summer wasn’t.

She should have tried harder.  For the past eleven years she’d roamed the country looking for family, while resenting, denying, the family she had.  Summer was her baby sister, but M really hadn’t tried that hard to bridge the distance between them.

How could she have been so selfish?  Maybe if she’d been around, been some sort of guiding influence in her sister’s life, she’d still be alive.

She’d never know, would she?

M pulled herself up off the bed and stumbled to the bathroom.  She grabbed a wad of tissues and blew her nose.

The face that looked back at her in the vanity mirror was red and puffy.  Summer had been the beautiful one, while M had often felt like the tacky knock-off.  There was a time she’d resented it, but that was long ago.  Now even the memory of it seemed foolish.

No matter how bad she looked, she could still see some of her sister in her reflection.

How do you deal with losing a part of yourself?  A sibling is essentially made up of the same ingredients you are, just put together in a different fashion.  There is an undeniable — perhaps spiritual — connection between you.  No matter how far apart you drift, that connection remains.

She’d read about people who’d had limbs amputated and how they suffered from phantom pains afterward.  As if the limb was still there.  Would it be like that?  How much time would pass before it really sunk in that Summer was gone?

Even though they’d never been close as adults, her sister always occupied a place in her heart.  In her mind.  She’d often see something in a store and think, Summer would like that.  Or she’d read a book, and think, I wonder if Summer has read this?  Would that just automatically stop now that Summer was dead?  Somehow, she didn’t think so.  It would probably be years before she stopped doing that.

She splashed her face with cold water, then headed back to bed.

*****

The next morning she walked into the kitchen in search of coffee.  Even though her face resembled a blowfish, she’d left the sanctuary of her room to follow its aroma.

A woman of about sixty stood stooped over the open oven door.  She had a muffin tray in one hand and with the other she rubbed her lower back.

Mrs. Brickman, she presumed.

“Here, let me help you.”

M walked across the kitchen, took the obviously cold tray from the woman’s bare hand, and put it in the oven.

With a slight groan, the woman straightened.  “Thank you, dear.  The older I get, the stiffer I get.  But I’m not ready to be called a stiff yet.  I’m Mrs. Brickman, but please call me Estelle.  You must be Summer’s sister, Em.”

M bit her lip to stop the laughter threatening to spill out at the “stiff” comment.  Although her parents had never taught her a thing about manners, she’d learned a thing or two along the way.  One — laughing in someone’s face was rude, and two — treat your elders with respect.

She put her hand out.  “Yes, I’m M.  It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Brickman…um, Estelle.  Is your back bothering you?  Why don’t you sit down and let me finish whatever you’re doing.”

“Nonsense.  I’m just fine.”

Watching her, M knew she wasn’t fine, but she understood pride.

“Was that coffee I could smell?”

“Yes.  Let me get you a cup.”

M shook her head.  “No.  If you tell me where the cups are, I’ll get my own.  But would you do me a favour?  Will you sit and have a cup with me?  Jonathan — Mr. Davenport — showed me around last night, but maybe you could fill me in little bit more.  Like where everything is stored here in the kitchen.”

A grateful smile spread across Mrs. Brickman’s face as she replied.  “I could do that.  Coffee mugs are in the cupboard right above the coffee maker.  On your right.”

“Thanks.  How do you take yours?”

M assembled two cups of coffee, then went and sat down in one of the funky chairs at the granite slab table.

“Would you like me to make you some breakfast?” Mrs. Brickman asked.

“No thanks.  Once you’ve told me where everything is, I’ll get something for myself.  I’ll pick up some groceries later, as well.”

Thoughtful eyes rested on M long enough to make her want to squirm.

“I didn’t know Summer had a sister.  Were the two of you close?”

M caught her breath as an echo of last night’s pain resounded through her.  “No.  Not since we were very young.”

“You’re nothing alike.”

M cocked her head in question.

Her first answer was a sigh.  Then, “Summer lived here for more than two years.  I met you when you walked into the kitchen a few minutes ago.  You’ve helped me, offered further assistance, and with a degree of sneakiness I have to admire, got me to sit down when you noticed I was in pain.  You’re sitting here sharing a coffee with an old woman.  That’s all I’m saying.”

That was all she needed to say.  Summer had obviously done none of those things and it hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“No.  We aren’t alike.  Weren’t.  But I was older.  I took off when I was eighteen.  Maybe if I’d stuck around…”

Mrs. Brickman flashed up her palm, halting M.  “None of that.  Don’t you go blaming yourself.  I’m guessing Summer started life with the same opportunities you did.  She chose to be who she was.  I’d say you’ve made different choices.”

M sighed.  That was true.

“Was Summer the only family you had?  Are you alone now?”

I’ve been alone most of my life. “Our parents are still alive.  They live in Saskatoon.”

“Poor people.  I’m sure they’re devastated.”

Not likely. “Um, well, I’m not sure they know.  I just found out yesterday, myself.”

Mrs. Brickman shook her head, a sad expression on her face.  “Well, if you need someone to talk to after you speak to them, I’m here all day.”

M mentally clapped a hand over her mouth.  It was a miracle she’d been able to restrain herself from verbalizing her thoughts so far.

The last thing she wanted to do was speak to her parents, but Mrs. Brickman had a point.  Her parents should be told.

“Thanks, Mrs. Brickman.  It’s sweet of you to offer.”

“Call me Estelle, dear.  I’m just doing what anyone else would do.”

Apparently Mrs…Estelle — had managed to hold on to a rosy view of the world.  Lucky her.

Go to Installment 9

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She took a deep breath, trying to contain the explosion of grief that suddenly hit her.  Now that she’d relaxed, the reality of it burst in on her.

There’d only been a year between them, and way back when they were still little girls, M and her little sister had been the best of buds.  But somewhere around her twelfth birthday, M had begun to realize there was more to life than what her parents had — or didn’t have.  But Summer, Summer hadn’t been an achiever like M.  She’d been content with what she had, and on the occasions she wanted more, she wasn’t above using her looks — or anything else — to get it.

Over the years, M had made the occasional attempt to reconnect with her sister, but Summer hadn’t been interested.  Instead she mocked M for always working so hard.

Now her sister was dead and she’d never have the chance to recreate the bond they’d shared as little girls.

She looked up as Charlie came around and squeezed into the booth beside her.

He put his arm around her.  “Oh, sweetie.  I’m so sorry.  You okay?  What happened?”

She sniffed and laid her head on his shoulder.  “I don’t know all the details, but she was drunk driving.  She killed herself and her husband.”

He just held her for a moment without saying anything.  After a bit, he asked, “So what are you going to do?  Do you need a place to stay?”

“No.  I’m…ah… I’m staying at her house.  Her step-son’s house.  He and his little sister are living there.”

He pulled back and took her by the shoulders.  “What?  You don’t even know this guy.  You can’t do that.”

“Well, you don’t have room…unless…?”

He pursed his mouth and shook his head, looking a little steamed.  “No, the four of us are still sharing the house we bought together a few years ago.  And space is about to get tighter.”

“Why?  Is someone else moving in?”

He laughed.  A sour laugh.  “You could say that.  Jeff and Kellie got pregnant.”

M’s jaw dropped.  “What?  I didn’t know they were dating.  I thought you guys had a house rule about no dating each other.  You all figured it would mess things up.”

“They aren’t dating.  Have never dated.  They had an accident! Yeah, oops.  So in three months, there will be a baby in the house.”

Okay.  It wasn’t like she’d thought there was a chance.

She reached up and grabbed his hand.  “Don’t worry.  I’ll be okay.  The place is huge, so it’s like living in a motel.  It’s bigger than your parent’s house.  And he gave me a job.  If I help with his sister, I can live there rent free.”

She looked up at him.  “I need to do this, Charlie.  I need to prove something to myself.”

“What?”

“That I can stay in one place.  That I can start my own business.   That I can be someone!”

He gave her another squeeze, then got up and went back to his seat.  “You are someone.  And you make sure you let me know if you need anything.”

They spent a comfortable hour getting caught up on each other’s lives, then she headed back to the place where she’d live for the next while.

And wasn’t the fact she thought of it like that a sad commentary on her life?  It had been a long time since she’d lived somewhere she’d thought of as home.  If ever.  Where ever she laid her head at night was just the place she lived for the time being.  Not home.  A home was more than a roof over your head.  More than the place you hung your clothes.

She found the front door locked when she got back to the house.  Good, someone had seen her note and locked the door.

Unfortunately, she’d have to knock before she got back in.

Jonathan answered the door.

Feeling awkward, she said, “Hi.”

“Hi.  Do you have a few minutes?”

“Uh, yeah.  I guess so.  Is something wrong?”

He shook his head.  “No.  There’re just a few things I thought we should talk about.  You mentioned a trial period.  I want you to know that works both ways.  If this doesn’t work for Alicia, or me, the deal is off.  Like you said, no harm, no foul.”

While she would’ve liked to take offence, what he said was fair.  “Agreed.”

“Good.  I’d promised to take Alicia somewhere for the afternoon tomorrow, so why don’t you join us?  It will give me a chance to see the two of you together.  See if this will work out.”

Oh, yay.  That sounded like more fun than she could stand.  “That’s a good idea.”

He spread his arms.  “And I thought I should show you around.  I would have offered before, but you looked like you needed to rest first.”

She raised her brows and thought, why not just go ahead and say I looked like a hag?

Her expression must have telegraphed her thoughts, because he looked a little chagrined. “Ah, I meant…”

“Forget it.  You’re right.  I was tired.  Sure, I’d love to look around.  It will save me from getting lost at a later date.”

He smiled at that.  “Let’s start with the kitchen.  And I want you to know…well…if you’re going to live here, please treat it like a home.”

That was just weird.  She’d just been thinking she’d never had a home and that this certainly wasn’t one, and now he was telling her to treat it like it was?

She squinched her nose.  “What do you mean?”

He shrugged and spread his hands.  “You don’t need to go out to eat, and you don’t need to let me know if you leave the house.  If I’m home, your time is your own.  Feel free to come and go, and feel free to make yourself a meal whenever you want.  Actually, why don’t you join Alicia and me for your meals?  Mrs. Brickman cooks for us as well, and I can ask her to start making a little extra.  What do you think?”

What did she think?  She thought this was way more then she’d expected.  She thought she’d be treated like one of the servants, and she was pretty sure servants didn’t get to eat with their employers.

She tucked her fingers into the front pockets of her jeans, not quite sure why this conversation was making her so uncomfortable.

“Well, here’s the thing.  Maybe it’s just me, but I feel like it’s rude to just leave without telling someone you’re on the way out.  I mean…I’m not saying I’m going to tell you where I’m going, that’s none of your business, but I will tell someone if I’m leaving the house.”  She lifted her shoulders, as if apologizing.  “It just…seems like the right thing to do.  As far as the kitchen goes, thanks.  I’ll use it, but don’t be surprised if I buy my own food.  And I wouldn’t feel right about eating with you.  If I’m eating in, I can eat in my room.”

“Fine.  That’s your decision.  One thing though…”  He hesitated, clearly choosing his next words carefully.

“What?”

“I live here.  For the time being, this is my home.  I expect you to respect my privacy.  Alicia is not allowed in my office, and she knows it.  You…well, I told you to treat this like your home, and I mean that.  To a point.  Whatever isn’t on tonight’s tour is off limits.  Is that clear?”

M clenched her jaw, and the heat of fury stung her cheeks, while the echo of past allegations rang in her ears.  “Crystal.  Make sure you lock up all your valuables too.  Or have you done that already?”

He opened his mouth, but closed it without saying anything.  Instead, he gestured to the left, indicating they should begin walking in that direction.  To the kitchen, she presumed.

Oh, the kitchen.  It nearly brought tears to her eyes.  It also deflated the bubble of anger that threatened to overtake her.

She’d never been in a kitchen like this.  Oh, she’d worked in fine restaurants with industrial like kitchens, but this, this was her idea of paradise.

Her eyes swept across an area bigger than her last apartment, and took in the gas cooktop — five burners, and easily three feet wide — to the built-in microwave, the sub-zero fridge, two ovens, and two dishwashers, all in stainless steel.

After taking in the important stuff — i.e. the appliances — she let her eyes wander over the rest of the kitchen.  Acres of granite countertop in a black stone flecked with bits of silver set off the stainless steel perfectly.  Gleaming hardwood cabinetry, some with wood doors and some fronted in smoky glass.

She skirted a huge island and walked across the ceramic tiled floor to a doorway on her left.  An enormous butler’s pantry with another fridge!

M shook her head in disbelief.  What she wouldn’t do for a kitchen like this.

She looked at the table, a huge granite slab that extended in an L shape from the island, and wondered if they ever sat in those funky chairs and ate a meal in here.  Or did richy rich only eat in the elegant, formal dining room that was surely just around the corner?  Probably.

Watching her, Jonathan found he had to revise his earlier opinion of her.  He’d compared her looks to Summer’s and found her wanting.

He’d been wrong.

From the moment she’d walked into the kitchen, it was if she’d been lit from within.  She…glowed.  Her eyes sparkled, her cheeks flushed — from pleasure this time.  She seemed to overflow with an energy that practically reverberated through the room.

He watched as awe, desire, and longing spread across her expressive face.

For his kitchen!

He couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like…whoa!

His brain provided him with a visual of both feet slamming on the brakes to halt that thought.  He could help but wonder, so he was not going there.

She wasn’t his type, and he already had a master plan for the future Mrs. Davenport, thank you very much.

He realized she’d just said something, but he’d been so entrenched in his little inner battle, he hadn’t heard her.  “I’m sorry.  Can you repeat that?”

“Do you cook?”

“Me?  If you mean do I throw the occasional meal together, yes, I guess I cook.  But this…”  He swept his arm through the air, indicating the expanse of the kitchen.  “I don’t need this.  I could make due with just the microwave.”

She shook her head and gazed around longingly.

Ah man, she was killing him.

“My father had a cook, but my needs are simple.  Mrs. Brickman does okay, and that’s good enough for Alicia and me.”

For some reason that made her sad.  He could see it in her face.

Why did he care?  Why was she affecting him this way?  He was a sensible man.  He refused to live the kind of life his father had led.  Ruled by his heart — a foolish heart at that.

Jonathan had decided a long time ago — sometime after his father’s fourth marriage — that his life, his decisions, would be ruled by logic, not emotion.

As far as he was concerned, emotion was nothing but a cloud that obscured reality.

Ironic that he’d lacked respect for Summer for being empty.  Shallow.  Or his favourite description of her, an abyss of nothingness.

Here was her sister tying him in knots because she was the exact opposite.  She may give the impression of being controlled, but her face portrayed a merry-go-round of roiling emotion.

He couldn’t afford to be attracted to her.  Or distracted by her.  He knew exactly what kind of women he’d settle down with one day.  And since he wanted to provide a solid home for his little sister, he guessed one day was here.

He wanted a stable environment for Alicia.  Not the kind of hustle and flow they’d both been subjected to.

To that end, the ideal candidate to be his wife would be someone like him.  A thinker.  A planner.  Someone with the same sort of background — not because he was a snob, but because there was a degree of comfort in commonality.

Not someone like Em…Emmie?

What was her name?

Go to Installment 8

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Thanks to Nan Donahue for sharing one of her manuscripts.